#and doing another write-up for each and every one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jungwnies · 3 days ago

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F1 GRID | the daughter of a rival team principal

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : the daughter of a team prinicipal finds love in another team ୨ৎ : requested : yes

୨ৎ : genre : romance ୨ৎ : tws : father-daughter arguing ୨ৎ : word count : 4799 (~685 words each)

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was so fun to write i love it (charles was a personal favorite >.<)

ʚ・max verstappen

you’ve always known what was expected of you. as the daughter of mercedes f1’s team principal, your life has been one of luxury, pressure, and constant public scrutiny. your father’s legacy has always loomed large over you, and you’ve been trained your whole life to uphold it. but tonight, at a charity event during the off-season, something shifts.

you never expected to meet him. max verstappen—red bull’s star driver, known for his dry humor and sharp wit—has always been in the rival camp. you’ve heard about him, but when you finally talk to him, it’s different. his banter is sharp, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes your heart race. it’s not the usual flirtation you’ve experienced with other drivers; it’s deeper, more genuine.

a conversation turns into a quiet moment away from the crowd, and before you know it, you’re both caught in an unspoken connection. you try to convince yourself it’s just the heat of the moment, but the chemistry between you two is undeniable. as the night ends, the weight of your family’s rivalry presses on you. you can’t be with him. not him. not a red bull driver.

but the connection is too strong. as the weeks go by, you find yourself texting max in secret, sneaking around after races, and spending stolen hours together. you’re falling for him, and it terrifies you. you’re not just risking your own heart; you’re risking your family, your reputation, and the wrath of the media. but when max looks at you with those eyes—full of intensity and something more—you can’t stop yourself.

the pressure builds with every passing day. your family expects you to uphold mercedes’ honor, and you know your father would never approve. meanwhile, max—who’s used to constant scrutiny—becomes frustrated. he’s tired of hiding, tired of sneaking around, and you start to feel the weight of it all. the secrecy is suffocating, but you’re scared of what will happen if the world finds out.

then, during a crucial race weekend, everything explodes. mercedes and red bull are neck-and-neck, both fighting for the title. after the race, max wins, and mercedes is left picking up the pieces. that night, you and max decide it’s enough. you’re done hiding.

you sit across from your father and max’s team principal, the air thick with tension. your father’s face is a mixture of shock and fury as he demands to know why you would choose max. “he’s from red bull,” he says, as if that’s enough of a reason for you to walk away. max’s principal isn’t much better, questioning how this relationship could possibly work.

but max speaks up. “i’m not just a driver,” he says, his voice calm but unwavering. “i’m with her because i love her. i’m not hiding anymore.”

the room falls into a heavy silence. your father’s eyes narrow, a flicker of frustration crossing his features, but as he looks at you—really looks at you—he sees something he can’t ignore. the sincerity in your eyes, the depth of your feelings for max, is undeniable. this isn’t a passing phase or a rebellious act. it’s real.

“you really love my daughter?” your father’s voice is no longer harsh, but laced with something else—caution, perhaps even a hint of understanding.

max doesn’t hesitate. “i do. i love your daughter.”

your father exhales sharply, the weight of his words lingering in the air. “if you ever break her heart, i swear to god, i’ll make sure your engine never sees the finish line again.”

max, looking both relieved and earnest, nods. “i would never, sir. i’d never hurt her.”

over time, both families begin to soften. the media circus doesn’t go away, but the tension between your families does. slowly, the world starts to accept what you already knew: love doesn’t care about the rivalry between teams. it doesn’t care about the rules.

max wins another race. this time, you’re there, not hiding, not pretending. the cameras flash around you, and you stand by his side, proud. he looks at you with that same intensity, but now, it’s not a secret. your love is out in the open, stronger than ever.

and as you walk off the podium together, hand in hand, you realize that no matter what the future holds, you’ve already won. together.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you’ve always been part of the f1 world, living in the shadow of your father, the red bull team principal. but one night, everything changes when you're forced to attend a press conference with him. you’re trying to stay out of the spotlight, your eyes gliding over the room, until they land on him: lewis hamilton. despite the rivalry between red bull and mercedes, something shifts when your gazes meet—an undeniable connection, one that neither of you can ignore.

after the press conference ends, lewis, ever the charmer, approaches you with that trademark grin. “so, you're the red bull princess, huh?” he says, his voice playful, though there's something deeper in his eyes. you nod, taken aback by the intensity of the moment.

"you don’t look like the type to be stuck behind a desk," he adds with a smirk, his tone light but his gaze searching yours.

you laugh, trying to hide how your heart skips a beat. "guess i’m not."

the next few weeks are a blur of stolen glances and quiet exchanges. with every conversation, every private moment, you both feel the connection deepening, though the tension between your families grows. your father’s rivalry with mercedes runs deep, and the last thing you need is for the media to catch wind of anything. but as the whispers start, you can’t fight the pull between you and lewis any longer.

the secrecy wears on you both. the constant sneaking around, meeting in hidden corners, avoiding the constant press. it’s like living a double life, and eventually, it becomes too much. you feel suffocated by the pressure of hiding your love, and lewis, frustrated and restless, isn’t happy either.

then comes a pivotal race. both red bull and mercedes are facing setbacks, and the competition is fierce. the tension is at an all-time high. after the race, the world is still buzzing with the results, but you can't think about anything else. you need to see him.

as the race concludes, you rush through the paddock, your heart racing. cameras flash all around you, but you don’t care. you spot him—lewis, standing in the pit, grinning like he just won the world. without thinking, you run straight to him. the noise of the world fades as you leap into his arms, and he catches you effortlessly, spinning you around in a burst of joy. it’s a moment of pure freedom—a declaration that you’re done hiding.

the cameras capture everything: your arms around him, your laughter echoing through the chaos. the media goes wild. your father, watching the broadcast from his office, doesn’t know whether to laugh or shout. he stares at the screen, eyes widening in disbelief as you and lewis embrace on live tv.

"what the hell…?" he mutters under his breath. his fists clench, watching his daughter—his little girl—defy everything he’s worked for, the legacy of red bull and its rivalry with mercedes. for a moment, he’s stunned, unsure of what to think.

later, when you sit down with him, you brace for the confrontation. but instead of anger, he looks at you with a quiet understanding in his eyes. “you’re my little girl,” he starts, voice softer than you expect. “i’ve spent my life trying to protect you, to keep you away from this madness. but if this is who you love… then i’ll support you. even if it’s from a rival team.”

you feel the weight of his words settle in your chest. the rivalry still exists, but in that moment, you realize that family comes first. your father’s approval means more than anything, and his acceptance gives you the freedom to live your truth.

ʚ・george russell

it’s a late afternoon at the track, the sun casting long shadows over the paddock as the roar of engines fills the air. you’re standing near your father, the principal of red bull racing, watching the teams prepare for another race. it’s business as usual—except, today, something feels different.

as you glance around, your eyes land on him: george russell. mercedes’ promising young driver, always composed and focused. but today, it’s not the usual competitive edge you notice. instead, you spot a technical issue on his car, a minor glitch in the system that could cost him on track. without thinking, you stride forward, your pulse quickening with a mix of adrenaline and nerves.

“george,” you call, your voice cutting through the air.

he looks up, surprised to see you, but a flicker of recognition crosses his face. “y/n,” he says with a slight grin. “what’s going on?”

you point to his car. “there’s an issue with the engine cooling system. you need to recalibrate the sensors, or it’s going to overheat during the race.”

george raises an eyebrow. “and what would you know about that?”

you shrug, a playful smile on your lips. “i come with my dad to work almost everyday, i'd like to think i’ve picked up a few things.”

he laughs softly, shaking his head. “i guess i’ll trust you then. but i’m not sure if i should be worried about red bull’s tech advice.”

“don’t worry,” you reply, “i won’t sabotage you… too much.”

the banter flows easily between you, and there’s an undeniable chemistry that neither of you can ignore. but as you walk away, your mind starts to race. you’re intrigued by him—his dry wit, his easy smile—but you know better than to get too close. your father’s rivalry with mercedes runs deep, and you’ve been raised to see them as the enemy, not a potential partner.

over the next few weeks, you and george find yourselves crossing paths more often. each meeting is brief, a stolen moment outside the paddock or in the midst of chaos during a race weekend. you talk about cars, racing strategies, and even your shared interests beyond the track. there’s an easy connection, a bond that grows deeper with every conversation.

the secrecy of your meetings becomes a burden. you’re both constantly looking over your shoulders, afraid of getting caught. the fear of your families finding out and the potential consequences of your secret relationship weigh on you. yet, with every stolen kiss and quiet exchange, your feelings for george only grow stronger. the risk of it all feels worth it when he’s around.

however, the stress of hiding the relationship begins to strain you both. george’s success on the track only adds pressure. every victory for him is a reminder of the ever-present distance between you two. your father’s disapproval weighs heavily on your conscience, and it’s starting to affect your work.

during a pivotal race, both teams face challenges—red bull’s strategy falters, and mercedes struggles with tire issues. you and george exchange secret messages, working together to help each other’s teams without crossing the line.

as both teams fight to salvage their positions, your collaboration becomes more than technical support—it’s a defiant stand against the rivalry. the race ends with both teams barely staying afloat, but you and george share a quiet triumph, knowing you made a difference.

the media catches on, and the truth comes to light. both families are shocked, but as they see the depth of your love, your father’s anger softens. slowly, the walls between red bull and mercedes begin to crumble.

you and george publicly announce your relationship, standing together before the media, no longer hiding. the rivalry may still exist, but your love has bridged the gap, and together, you step into a new chapter where love, not competition, drives you forward.

later, your father calls you and george into his office, a wry smile on his face. after a moment of silence, he looks at you both, then shrugs. “i suppose if you’re really in love, i can’t stop you. just know… i can’t promise i won’t use my daughter to sabotage mercedes from time to time.”

you and george laugh, and your father chuckles, his eyes softening. "but seriously," he adds, "i trust you both. just don’t make me regret it."

with that, the tension breaks, and for the first time, the future of both families feels a little brighter.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the press room was buzzing with the usual chatter—drivers answering questions, team principals looking sharp, and the sound of cameras clicking at every moment. you were there as part of your father’s entourage, the daughter of mclaren’s team principal. you’d been to countless media events, but today, something felt different.

the crowd parted as a familiar face made his way through: carlos sainz, ferrari’s star driver. his warm smile met yours from across the room. you’d seen him race plenty of times, but there was something about his presence that stood out today—something that made your heart beat a little faster.

you’d heard stories of how intense the rivalry between mclaren and ferrari was. it was ingrained in you from a young age, something your father had hammered into your head. he was fierce about his loyalty to mclaren, and he expected nothing less from you. but despite that, the moment your eyes met carlos’s, you felt an undeniable pull.

he smiled at you, as if recognizing that spark too, and before long, the two of you found yourselves chatting during a brief lull in the press event. he was charming, his wit sharp, and his dry humor caught you off guard. you laughed more easily than you expected, feeling the weight of your father’s expectations and the animosity between your teams fade away in the warmth of his presence.

“you know,” carlos said with a grin, “i’ve always thought mclaren had some of the best engineers. too bad we’re always on opposite sides of the fight.”

you smirked. “guess it’s more fun that way, isn’t it? keeps things interesting.”

the chemistry between you was immediate, and in that brief conversation, you realized you wanted more. but you couldn’t—could you? your father would never approve. ferrari and mclaren had been bitter rivals for as long as anyone could remember. still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something real between you and carlos.

over the next few races, you both found ways to keep in touch, meeting up in secret whenever possible. the stolen moments became your escape, a brief reprieve from the weight of being the daughter of mclaren’s team principal and the strain of hiding your growing feelings for a ferrari driver. every touch, every glance was like a silent promise, and with each passing day, it became harder to keep things a secret.

but the pressure was mounting. the media was getting more curious about the subtle tension between you and carlos. you had to be careful. every word, every action had to be carefully measured.

then came the race that changed everything. the tension between mclaren and ferrari reached its peak. your team was struggling—strategy issues, tire troubles, nothing was going according to plan. and then there was carlos, pulling off a brilliant move and clinching the victory for ferrari. the crowd roared, but for you, the noise faded into the background. all you could focus on was the moment he crossed the finish line, knowing you couldn’t stay hidden anymore.

you rushed through the chaos, your heart pounding in your chest. the cameras were everywhere, but you didn’t care. you didn’t think. you just ran. when you reached him, you didn’t hesitate. you jumped into his arms, and in one swift motion, he spun you around, laughing in joy.

the world saw it all. it was a moment of defiance—no longer hiding your love for him, despite everything you’d been taught about team loyalty and rivalry. the media exploded, cameras flashing as they captured the intimate moment. the tension between mclaren and ferrari had never felt more real, and yet, in that moment, it didn’t matter. you were with carlos, and that was all that mattered.

back at the paddock, you could feel your father’s eyes on you from the distance. he hadn’t yet approached, but you knew the storm was coming. when he finally did, his expression was unreadable, his jaw clenched in frustration.

“what the hell is this?” he demanded, his voice low but sharp.

you took a deep breath, walking toward him. “dad, i… i’m in love with him.”

for a moment, the silence stretched between you. then, your father’s gaze softened, just a little. he let out a long sigh, glancing back at carlos, who was now waiting a few feet away, watching the exchange with uncertainty.

“you really love him?” your father asked, his voice unsteady for the first time.

you nodded, meeting his eyes. “i do. it’s not a fling, dad. i promise you.”

he stood there for a long moment, his gaze flicking back and forth between you and carlos. then, in a move that surprised you, he chuckled—a little bitterly, but still, a chuckle.

“well, if you’re serious about this, i guess i can’t stop you,” he said, the tension in his shoulders easing. “but don’t expect me to go easy on ferrari next season.”

you laughed, relief flooding through you. “deal.”

and just like that, the walls that had once seemed insurmountable between your world and carlos’s began to crumble. the rivalry between mclaren and ferrari wouldn’t disappear overnight, but maybe—just maybe—the future of racing didn’t have to be defined by the battles between teams.

as you stood there, hand in hand with carlos, you realized that love had bridged the gap. you weren’t just the daughter of mclaren’s team principal anymore. you were someone who had found something real, despite all the odds. and that was enough.

the road ahead would be challenging, but with carlos by your side, you were ready to face it all—together.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you’d spent your entire life draped in mclaren orange, fiercely loyal to your father’s team. everyone at the paddock knew you—not as just the team principal’s kid but as a sharp-tongued, quick-witted presence who had zero tolerance for nonsense. so, when charles leclerc, ferrari’s golden boy, casually strolled over during a media event and commented on your bold mclaren jacket, you didn’t miss a beat.

“bold choice for you to critique fashion,” you said, raising a brow. “didn’t you wear that same ferrari polo yesterday? or is it just your uniform now?”

charles blinked before breaking into a grin. “it’s called consistency, chérie. something mclaren might want to try with their cars.”

your jaw dropped, but his cheeky smirk made it impossible to stay annoyed. instead, you laughed. “touché, leclerc. but let’s see how consistent you are on track this weekend.”

it started with playful banter, but the more you ran into charles during race weekends, the more intrigued you became. beneath his smooth charm and the ferrari-red facade was a kind, passionate guy with dreams that matched yours. the chemistry was undeniable, and soon, stolen moments between press conferences turned into late-night conversations over text, and quiet dinners away from the spotlight.

every meeting felt like rebellion—not just against your father’s expectations but against the entire cutthroat nature of the sport. you’d grown up in this world of rivalries, but with charles, you started to see it differently. the sport didn’t have to divide people; it could bring them together.

still, you knew what you were risking. your father had built his career on the rivalry with ferrari, and your mother… well, she’d always been the level-headed one in the family.

the turning point came after a thrilling race in monaco. charles took p1 in a breathtaking finish, and as he climbed out of his car, the crowd roared. you stood at the edge of the podium celebrations, your heart racing—not for mclaren, but for him.

as he spotted you in the crowd, you didn’t care who was watching. you pushed past the cameras and ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him in front of everyone. the world faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

later, when the footage made its inevitable rounds, your father called you into his office. his expression was thunderous, but before he could launch into a tirade, your mother interjected.

“oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “love is love. let her live her life.”

your father looked between you and your mother, his frustration melting into reluctant acceptance. “fine,” he said, sighing heavily. “but if this boy breaks your heart, i’ll have him banned from every paddock on earth. do you hear me?”

“loud and clear,” you said, grinning.

charles became more than just a rival driver; he became your partner. the road wasn’t easy—balancing the pressures of your families, the media, and the sport itself was a challenge—but together, you proved that love could transcend the boundaries of loyalty and rivalry.

in time, even your father warmed up to charles, admitting that maybe ferrari wasn’t entirely the enemy. your relationship became a symbol of change, inspiring others to see beyond the rivalries and focus on what truly mattered.

and as you stood with charles at the end of yet another race, hand in hand, you knew you’d crossed the finish line—not just for love but for a new chapter in both your lives.

ʚ・lando norris

you weren’t supposed to be here—not in the simulator room of a mclaren facility. as the daughter of ferrari’s team principal, you had absolutely no business wandering into enemy territory. but your father had dragged you to yet another pre-season media day, and curiosity (plus boredom) got the better of you.

what you didn’t expect was to find lando norris, slouched in the simulator seat, muttering under his breath as he reset for yet another lap.

“maybe if this sim wasn’t ancient, i wouldn’t be two-tenths off,” he grumbled, smacking the steering wheel in frustration.

you couldn’t help yourself. “ever thought about turning left for a change?”

lando’s head snapped up, startled, before his lips curved into a grin. “great. ferrari’s princess is here to give me driving tips. what’s next? you gonna show me how to do a pit stop?”

“someone has to,” you shot back, stepping into the room. “clearly, mclaren hasn’t figured it out yet.”

his laugh was genuine, softening the edges of his earlier frustration. “careful, or people will think you’re defecting.”

“oh, please,” you said with a smirk. “if i wanted to sabotage ferrari’s reputation, i’d just let you borrow one of our cars.”

what started as playful banter quickly spiraled into something more.

the teasing didn’t stop after that. you’d bump into him at races or media events, and without fail, lando always had something to say.

“so, which ferrari secret are you leaking today?” he’d whisper as you passed him in the paddock.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” you’d reply, raising an eyebrow.

but beneath the sarcasm, there was something else—an undeniable connection that neither of you could ignore. it wasn’t long before stolen moments turned into late-night chats, and teasing jabs softened into something deeper.

you started meeting in secret, far from the prying eyes of the paddock. sometimes it was at quiet restaurants in cities where races were held, other times it was just sitting on the tailgate of his rental car, talking about everything but racing.

“do you ever get tired of all the rivalry crap?” you asked one night, staring at the stars.

“all the time,” he admitted. “but i’ve got to say, it’s a lot more fun with you around. even if you’re technically the enemy.”

you rolled your eyes. “please. if i were the enemy, you wouldn’t still be here.”

the turning point came after a pivotal race. ferrari had a disastrous weekend—your father’s strategy calls backfired, and both cars finished far outside the points. meanwhile, lando claimed p1, his first win of the season.

you should’ve stayed in the ferrari garage, consoling your team and putting on a brave face. instead, your feet carried you to parc fermé, straight into lando’s arms.

“you’re not supposed to be here,” he teased, grinning as he pulled you into a hug.

“yeah, well, someone has to congratulate you properly,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest.

the cameras were everywhere, catching the moment as lando lifted you off the ground and spun you around. by the time your feet touched the ground, you knew there was no hiding anymore.

when your father saw the footage, his face turned a shade of red you didn’t think was physically possible. “you hugged him. on camera. at parc fermé,” he fumed, pacing the ferrari motorhome.

“yeah, dad, i did,” you said, arms crossed. “and i’m not sorry about it.”

your mother, sitting calmly in the corner, rolled her eyes. “oh, please, let them be. even if it’s… inconvenient.”

your father stopped pacing, glaring at her before turning to you. “fine. but if he breaks your heart, i swear i’ll sabotage his car myself.”

when you relayed the conversation to lando later, he laughed, pulling you close. “your dad’s terrifying, you know.”

“yeah, but he loves me,” you said with a grin. “and he’ll come around. eventually.”

lando kissed your forehead, his voice soft. “good, because i’m not going anywhere.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

the first time you met oscar piastri, it wasn’t under the most glamorous circumstances. as ferrari’s golden child, your father had sent you to oversee a joint project with mclaren, which was code for "keep an eye on the competition."

you were mid-yawn at the coffee machine in mclaren's hospitality area, waiting for the machine to finally churn out your much-needed cappuccino, when a voice interrupted you.

“some of us actually have work to do, you know.”

you turned, glaring at the culprit—none other than oscar piastri, standing there with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“well, some of us need caffeine to tolerate said work,” you shot back, not budging.

he smirked. “right, because ferrari's success clearly hinges on how long you hog the coffee machine.”

“it’s only fair since mclaren’s been stealing all the glory lately,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

his laugh was low and unexpected, and it caught you off guard. “touché. but seriously, i need my coffee.”

you rolled your eyes but stepped aside, gesturing dramatically. “be my guest, glory-stealer.”

what started as sharp-witted banter evolved into something… else. the project forced you into countless meetings, strategy sessions, and shared moments of quiet in the paddock.

late nights at the track turned into debates about racing philosophies—he’d argue for precision, and you’d counter with passion. more than once, you’d find yourself splitting snacks when the paddock catering failed you both.

“you’re really committed to this whole ‘traitor’ thing, aren’t you?” he teased one evening, munching on a shared bag of chips.

“it’s called strategic sabotage,” you deadpanned, stealing another chip. “someone has to keep mclaren humble.”

he grinned, leaning a little closer. “you’re terrible at hiding your motives, you know.”

“and you’re terrible at hiding how much you love this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you.

he didn’t deny it.

after a grueling race weekend, where mclaren edged out ferrari in the standings, you found yourself in the paddock sulking with a bottle of water.

oscar appeared out of nowhere, slipping a folded piece of paper into your hand.

“don’t open it now,” he murmured before walking off, his usual nonchalant demeanor intact.

curious, you waited until you were alone to unfold it.

"we make a good team."

the words were simple, scribbled in his messy handwriting, but they hit you harder than you expected.

your flushed face must’ve been a dead giveaway because your father cornered you that evening.

“do you want to explain why you look like a lovesick teenager?” he asked, arms crossed.

you froze, trying to come up with a convincing lie, but he sighed before you could. “it’s piastri, isn’t it? of all the drivers—him?”

“it’s not—” you stopped yourself. lying wouldn’t work. “okay, yes, it’s him. and he makes me happy, dad.”

your father stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. finally, he muttered, “fine. but if he so much as breathes in the wrong direction, i'll send a hit out for him.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, relief flooding you.

when you saw oscar later that night, you couldn’t resist telling him about your father’s “conditions.”

oscar grinned as he wrapped an arm around you. “i think i can live with that.”

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jybyls · 2 days ago

Text

First time || Jinx

Masterlist

Request by anonymous here

Warnings: smut, soft sex, virgin!Jinx, virgin!reader, fingering (r receiving), not proofread, bad writing, and I think that's it.

Words: 1.9k

- 📜🎧🍂 -

"You're so pretty." Jinx mumbled against your neck as you put her hair behind her ear. You hummed, smiling down at her while her lips were travelling down your body. You shirt wad already on the floor, leaving you in sweatpants and a bra. On the other hand, Jinx was still fully dressed. Your hands made their way down her top, slowly caressing her back, which made her shiver under your gentle touch. You didn't want to rush or make her feel pressured to do anything, so you always made sure to keep your touch loving and comforting with her.

"Can I ?" You whispered as your fingers traced random shapes on her shirt. The simple question was enough to make her stomach do a flip. She was still getting used to being asked for consent or opinion on random things. She eventually nodded, "Yeah, you can. I mean, you're already shirtless. It's only fair that way, right, toots ?" She rambled. You could tell she was slightly nervous, so you didn't waste a second to reassure her, "This isn't about fairness. It's about you being comfortable with this, love." You tenderly explained, a hand on her cheek, softly caressing her reddened skin. She nodded again, slowly but surely understanding the situation. You kiss her nose to bring her attention back on you, "So ? What's your answer, baby ?" You murmured.

She suddenly kissed you and quickly pulled away, barely giving you any time to process what just happened, "The answer is yes." She said. Her lips inches away from yours. You nodded, letting your hands go underneath her top, unhurriedly taking it off. Her breath hitched at the cool air, hitting her now bare skin. You were mesmerised by the sight in front of you, your brain could barely think straight but you rapidly remembered who you had before you -a broken soul who needs constant reassurance- so you did your job, "You're stunning, Jinx. It's absolutely stunning." Your voice was full of adoration. The blue haired girl could only believe your words. A smile appeared on her face, and her eyes filled up with stars while looking into your fond ones. No words were spoken, but you both understood the other one's need and leaned into the most passionate kiss you've ever shared.

Your lips moved. I'm synchronisation as her tongue asks for entrance, which you gladly gave. Your tongues are now dancing with each other. The kiss was slow yet heated, hands roaming around every inch of your bodies like you guys were making sure to never forget what your partner's body looked like. The need and desire you were feeling towards one another was basically palpable, and you both definitely knew where this make-out session was going.

Her lips left yours, founding their place back on your neck as her hands went to your back to open your bra but nit before asking for permission that you happily gave. Her fingers quickly unhooked your bra without any problem. You gasped at her efficacy, which, of course, busted her ego. She smirked, taking your bra off to throw it somewhere in her room. Her eyes fell on your breasts, "Oh wow. Didn't know you were hiding all that under your clothes, baby." The rasp in her voice came out strongly, making you melt. Your cheeks reddened at her comment. It made you feel confident, but you couldn't help but ask, "You like it ?" You mumbled, feeling insecure. Jinx's eyes widened, "Like it ?! I love it ! You're gorgeous, toots. Wanna workship you, to be honest." The last past of her sentence came out as a whisper.

"Workship me ? Yeah, you can do that. Only if I get to workship you back ?" You smiled, and she nodded. Her lips found your neck again, going down to your cleavage. She took your time before going further and kissing between your breasts. You breathed heavily but tried to keep it steady. Jinx noticed your irregular breath, so she put her hand on where your heart was and helped you breathe more steadily. "You're safe. Don't worry, doll." She whispered, her lips making their way to your breast. She held your hand, interviewing your hands together when she kissed around your breast and then sucking on your nipple. You let out a soft moan of her name, which indicated her she was doing. She was proud and aroused at the same time. She could already tell this was her favourite sound. She gave attention to both your breasts, massaging the one she wasn't sucking on, eventually leaving small hickeys. You whimpered and moaned each time her lips touched your nipples, you couldn't get enough, and you wanted more of her.

"Jinx..." Your hips shyly jerked, she smirked, "Yes, toots ?" She answered while kissing your abdomen that contracted to the feeling of her lips. She didn't help your state when her hand left your breast to caress your side. You shivered under her touch, only then did you remember to answer her question. "Can we go further ?" You murmured, feeling slightly ashamed for some reasons. Jinx smiled up at you, "I'm ready to go further. Are you ?" You immediately nodded, and a 'yes' quickly left your mouth.

She pecked your lips, her hand leaving yours to undo your pants, your hands instinctively did the same with hers. Now both your pants are off, and your girlfriend didn't wait a second to love on your thighs, proudly smiling at the wet patch on your panties. She was glad you couldn't see how wet she was because she wanted to keep her pride, even if it wouldn't last long. She kissed your legs as you caressed her hair. Her mouth found your panties, looking up at you to make sure you weren't uncomfortable. And you weren't. You were getting impatient because of how painful the pool between in your panties felt.

She understood the message and took your panties off. Her breath hitched at the view of your bare pussy, "God... so pretty. You're absolutely perfect, my love." She praised, "Can I ?" You blushed at her words and nodded, "Yes, you can. Please." You begged and obviously Jinx gave in. She kissed your inner thighs then your clit, your body trembled, you moaned her name. "Feels good ?" She whispered. She was worried she wouldn't be able to make you feel good since she never done this before. "Yeah, you can keep going, darling." You panted, she nodded. She licked up your folds and kissed your clit again, you moaned and your legs shook. She couldn't get enough of your reaction so she kept going.

She sucked on your clit with precautions, her hand massaging your thigh, the other one back into yours, your hand never left her hair. "Should I put a finger in ?" She wondered, you hesitatingly nodded. You've only felt your own fingers inside of you so you were scared, however you wanted to take this step with your lover. "Yes, you should." You murmured, she came up to you to kiss your lips then sweetly smiled at you, "I'll try my best." She whispered, "I'm sure you'll do great." Your hands enveloped her face. You felt her finger going up your folds, leading you to tremble, she massaged your clit in circular motion as she slowly went in. Your walls felt tight our her finger, a gasp came out of your mouth to the feeling of her inside you, she didn't dare to move until you gave her the go and that didn't take long for you to give it to her.

She started moving her finger, she made sure to hit every spot inside of you, her eyes glued to yours not to miss any of yours reaction so she's know when she hit the that spot. She was steadily stirred, listening to your little moans and whimpered that made her ears go red. She felt herself getting wetter, but she brushed the thought away to focus on you and only you. Jinx's finger curled against your gummy walls it sent a shot of pleasure through your body, one that you've never felt before, your back arched with your mouth leaving a moan of her name. Her pupils went darker of lust. She wanted to give you more without overstepping your boundaries.

"Do, um, do you want me to add a finger ?" She unsurely asked, scared of your reaction. However, you were so lost in bliss that you couldn't even think straight. You eagerly nodded and only wanted to feel more of her. Jinx smiled and gently rubbed her other finger against your folds before entering your tight cunt. You moaned out loud, you've never felt so full in your entire but, gosh, it felt so good. "Jinx, fuck, you can go faster." You had a time forming a sentence but thankfully your girlfriend understood your will and obeyed. She went faster and it was so immediate you saw stars within the second.

"Like that, baby ?" She kissed your jaw, teasing you because she knew you liked what she was doing, and it was only busting her ego, "Yeah, keep going, love." You panted, your back arching when you felt her fingers curling, touching your g-spot. A lusty moan came out of your mouth as you felt the heat in your stomach getting stronger. Your walls tightened around Jinx's fingers, which made her groan. The whole time she tried to keep her noises down but she never succeeded, the sight fo you in such deep pleasure in front of her was too much for her to stay quiet, leaving small moans, sighs and whimpers. She took the time to praise you every now, and then when she felt your walls tightening around her, she understood you were close.

She caressed your tummy, "It's okay, toots, let go. Trust me." She gently whispered, her lips ghosting yours, keeping her mouvement steady so you'd get your release soon. And soon you got it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you held into her arms, your body trembling in pleasure when your orgasm hit you. And it hit you like a train. You uncontrollably shook under her from your first orgasm given by someone else. It was so much more intense than all the orgasms you've had by yourself and you weren't complaining because, fuck did it feel good.

Jinx held you against her, kissing your head as she murmured sweet words into your ear until you calmed down. She was so incredibly proud that she made you come undone around her fingers. She couldn't live that moment down. She looked at you with so much love and care. Her pink eyes never looked so warm. Your reaction was impossibly endearing to her she wanted to see it again and again and again, but at the same time, she didn't want to overwhelm you. She was too lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear you talking.

"Jinx, baby ? Are you still with me ?" Your breath was irregular as you spoke, a small giggle leaving your mouth. Jinx shook her head to focus back on you, "Yeah, of course, I'm here, toots." And here she was, everything was so quiet, everything was always so quiet when you were here. No voices, no bad thoughts, nothing. Just you and her against the world. "Did you hear what I said, hun ?" You asked, your hand caressing her cheek, "Nah, your body distracted me." She answered with a cheeky tone that made you blush. You smiled and repeated yourself, "I said do you wanna go next ?" You whispered. She didn't know how to react because she didn't know if she wanted to go next. But she did. She agreed, letting you take care of her. She trusted you with her body.

The night was eventful but unbelievably romantic.

- 📜🎧🍂 -

A/n: Here's my Christmas gift for y'all :) Love you <33

#jinx #jinx smut #jinx league of legends #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x you #arcane #arcane x reader #Spotify #jybyls' writing #jybyls writing’s

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beomiracles · 16 hours ago

Text

𝓟𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝓒𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ In Strawberryland, where all the people are happy, and a little fruity; Little Apricot finds herself drawn to the only thing the village seems to resent. — For in a lonesome house by the far end of the valley, where the sun never seems to shine, and the grass never seems to grow, lives a boy who was once as peachy as one could be.

Nowadays, he's grown somewhat of a hermit, and should his sharp glares not be enough, his harsh words certainly will be when he fends off any visitors that may dare come his way. No one knows what happened to the boy. Though one thing was clear; every peach Beomgyu touched quickly turned rotten. ⸝⸝

𓂃 ��˖ ִֶָ wc, 16k ་༘࿐

𝓹airings peach!beomgyu x little apricot!reader (f) 𝔀arnings heavy grumpy x sunshine trope, fairytale themed (kinda goes in threes, at least in the beginning), mean beomgyu, naive/gullible reader, longing/yearning, unprotected sex, creampie, little apricots cum is described as a jam-like texture, cum eating, oral (f. rec), overstimulation, beomgyu is fuzzy (cause peach fuzz), lot of kissing, loads of sexual tension..

#serene adds ✎.. hello!! I'm so so excited for this fic you guys seriously have no idea, imagine my current excitement and then bump it up 100x! I've worked so hard on this fic, but most of it felt so natural when I was writing, everything kinda just flowed? I hope that shines through!! ahh, and I can never shut up so here we are at 16k when my target was 7k but oh well.. oh but I would love to hear your thoughts on this!! merry christmas!! consider this my gift :3

THIS FIC IS A PART OF AN EVENT, GET REDIRECTED TO THE EVENTPOST !

The sun rises early in Strawberryland, its warm rays casting the plump little houses in an orange glow. It’s quiet, for the colorful meadow has yet to wake up. The birds are still sleeping soundly, the deers hidden in the treeline as they huddle close to one another. All that can be heard is the soft rippling of clear water as it runs along a small stream. Everyone is asleep, all except for one. — Little Apricot rises just as the sun, and she does so with excitement.

Pots and silverware clank together, creating a chaotic atmosphere in your tiny kitchen as you shuffle about. The soft hum of a foreign melody dances across your lips, your hands working diligently as they alter between stirring the jam that was cooking on the stove, and onto unscrewing the lids of the many jars you’d prepared. An outsider would think something big was coming, that this might’ve been a special day indeed.

And it was. For Little Apricot at least.

“Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty…” You point to each neatly secured jar, filled to the brim with creamy orange jam. They’re topped with a matching ribbon, tied nicely around the plaid and orange lid. And they’re now all ready to be handed out. — “Forty-nine…” You trail off, gaze lingering by the last jar, “Fifty…”

With pursed lips, your hands hover above it, debating on whether to shove it in the already full basket alongside the rest. In the end you do. And with your bright orange coat pulled over your body, you step outside, letting the warm sun caress the soft skin of your cheeks, causing a smile to spread across your face. Today was a good day.

Your steps are light and cherry as you skip down the cobbled road that takes you through Strawberry village. The happy song of the melody you sang rings out into the air, and you only tune it down to a soft hum as you approach the first door of the day. — With a gentle knock, you wait, swinging back and forth on two legs as you balance the heavy basket in your hands.

The blue door to the little hut swings open and you’re greeted by a mess of hair as bright and blue as the sky itself. Blueberry Kai greets you with a smile, his sapphire like eyes sparkling in the sun as they land on the basket in your hands. “Hi Little Apricot!” He almost sings the words and you refuse a giggle as you coyly avert your gaze.

“Hi Kai, I brought you one of these..” You reach for one of the jam filled jars, handing the boy it as you await his verdict. — Kai’s smile widens as he takes the jar from you, and it seems small in his large hands. “You’re too good to us Apricot”, he says, though doesn’t refuse your kindness but rather thanks you with the promise of bringing a fresh blueberry pie in the following days.

You continue like that, happily skipping down the road that looped around the village. And for each house you stopped by, the grin on your lips only grew, as did the warmth on your face and the love that filled your chest. Gradually your basket emptied and got lighter, and once you’d delivered Lemon Drop Soobin his jar, all that remained was one.

The bright and orange little jar looks lonely as it rocks back and forth by the bottom of your now comically large basket, and with a small frown you glance toward the forest line. “Hmpf”, you huff, shaking your head sharply before turning on your heel and marching toward the dark trees. You had made enough jam for everyone in this village, and you’d make sure to deliver it as well.

..Suppose you had underestimated the dark and menacing nature of the woods just slightly. But it wasn’t like the forest in Strawberryland was always this…scary, it just so happened to be the part where one individual resided. The youngest of the village speculated that his presence is what caused the nature around him to turn dark, that his vile and evil ways killed everything around him. You didn’t believe such nonsense, yet you found yourself gripping the basket tighter in your hands as you carefully trudged forward.

You’ve been walking for a good twenty minutes, following a sparse dirt road as you peer through the thick tree trunks, when a small cottage suddenly floats into vision. Your heart beat immediately picks up, thumping loudly against your ribcage as you with hesitant steps approach. — The small hut looks just like the others of the village. Or at least, it used to.

The white paint on its sides had been dirtied by nature's force, vines climbed the walls and tangled around the windowsills where the peachy paint had chipped. The roof was a round and once warm shade, though now, it looked just as lifeless as the rest of the house. You wondered how anyone could possibly live like this.

A small wooden sign is shoved into the ground, it is just as battered as the rest of the place and reads the words, “Keep Out!” A flicker of uncertainty passes you by, but you ignore it. It was probably just something he had put up to scare any kids that dared come this way despite their mother’s warnings.

As you heave the steps up his front door, you try to remember what he’d looked like. You don’t think you have seen him for quite some time now. For he only ventured into town when he needed something, and judging by the state of his small cottage, it had been a while. Still, you figured that he deserved a jar of jam just as much as anyone else. It wasn’t like he was a criminal or anything of the sort…He was just, well… Him.

The knock you deliver to his door is just as soft and cheerful as the others had been. Though this time you have to remind yourself to smile, it didn’t come naturally when your heart was palpitating at a near alarming rate. — You wait another minute, nearly two, but there’s still no answer. With a small frown you try your luck again.

Another soft knock.

“Hello? Is anybody there?” You call out, the shaky edge to your voice coming off a lot stronger than you’d hoped. But you hadn't come all the way out here for nothing, and you would be damned if you didn’t get this last jar off your hands. A few moments later, you hear it, the soft rustling of something, of someone, moving on the other side.

And much to your delight, the door swings open mere moments later. Though the sight you’re met with does little to ease the agitated beating of your heart. A tangled mess of unkempt dark brown hair, paired with fierce and menacing eyes and a nasty scowl that stretches across his pale lips. — Peach Beomgyu looked ready to beat you bloody.

Your words get caught in your throat, and as much as you try to swallow, not an ounce of saliva will go down. Clearing your throat, you readjust the basket in your hands, wordlessly extending it in front of you. Beomgyu’s gaze falls on the lonesome jar before snapping back up to you. His brows furrow, twisting his face into even more of an accusing look as his eyes narrow on you.

“What’s the meaning of this?” His voice has got a clean cut edge to it, sharp and impeccably demanding. Suddenly, your usual lines all diminish into nothing, your brain melting into a pile of jam as your mouth goes dry. “I… I brought you some-” — “I can see what it is, do you take me for an idiot?” He snaps, effortlessly cutting you off as he shoves your basket back with a look of sheer distaste.

Your mouth opens and closes, like that of a goldfish mindlessly swimming around in its bowl. “Y-Yes but you see I”, you swallow, “I made it myself.” And though you knew your words to be true, they were hardly convincing as you stumbled over them. Beomgyu’s brows rose on his forehead, but he did not look surprised, merely lightly interested. You counted the win anyway.

With trembling arms you extend him the basket once more, encouraging him to retrieve the jar. But he only looked at it as though it would jump up and bite him in the face. “Well you’ve wasted your time then”, he grunts, averting his gaze as he urges you off his porch. You won’t budge, feet clamming to the old wooden boards as you stubbornly present the jar for him.

Beomgyu scoffs, running a hand through his dark hair, and you’re surprised when his fingers don't catch onto the mess of strands, in fact the brown locks looked almost…soft. You shake your head, blinking twice as you pick the jar up, shoving it against his hard chest as you peer over at him with a determined expression, your lips pressed together in a firm line.

“I’m sure you can reconsider”, you probe, much to little avail as Beomgyu’s scowl only grows. You were sure you’d overstepped for good this time. — But he doesn’t shout, nor does he tell you to get the hell away from his house. He chuckles. And though it’s far from an actual laugh, it’s something other than the tired and displeased groans. It makes your stomach flutter in an unfamiliar way.

You almost expect him to wipe a half-hearted tear from his eye. To maybe condole you on your gullibleness or your overbearing kindness. Well, and a small part of you hopes he might actually accept the jar. — He does none of those things, instead he takes a small, almost unnoticeable step back. And before you know it, the door is slammed shut in your face, leaving you alone in the dark and menacing forest once more.

With a petulant huff, you glance toward the window by the door, just in time to see him drawing the peach colored curtains in front of the glass, blocking him from your view. “Bastard”, you mutter as you step off the porch, kneeling down in front of it to place the jar down, “I’ll just put you right here…”

As you trudge down the dirt path leading from his cottage and back to the village, you can feel his lingering gaze on you, peeking through the light and peachy curtains. You smile to yourself, feeling accomplished despite his refusal, for you did not take his cruel words personally. — At the end of the day an angry person will always be the angriest with himself.

⸝⸝

It quickly becomes somewhat of a habit for you to make fifty jars instead of forty-nine. At first you had told yourself that the number was just much more satisfactory in itself, and that it was easier to make five full batches rather than four and then some. But you could only lie to yourself for so long. And when you find yourself on Beomgyu’s doorstep a third time in the span of two weeks, you know that the extra jar is more than just a number.

He doesn’t answer you when you call for him, but you know he’s there, listening, even though he doesn't want to, because he can’t help himself. And each time, you place the little jar on his porch. The orange jam is a stark contrast to the dull forest all around, and is easily spotted. — You keep returning, not because you fancied being ignored outside his shut door, or because you enjoyed the muddy walk to his little house. But because whenever you returned, the jar from last time would be gone.

And when you for a fifth time find yourself on his porch, swaying back and forth as you hum along to a quiet melody, you’re surprised when the door actually opens. He’s frowning, lips tugged into what you presumed to be a permanent scowl. You wondered if he ever smiled. — Beomgyu gives you a quick one over, his gaze undoubtedly lingering by the jar in your basket.

He clears his throat, “What the hell are you still doing here?” His question catches you off guard and you blink as your attention returns to the present moment. “Huh?” Is all you can muster, the response coming out as a question of your own. — Beomgyu scoffs, rolling his eyes as if he’d just asked you the most obvious thing. “You’ve been out here for twenty minutes, what the fuck do you want?”

Twenty minutes? Had it really been that long.. You would admit that you usually lingered for a minute or two before placing the little jar and returning back home. It wasn’t like you were waiting for him, well… You might have been. Suppose that today your mind had travelled a little too far, even for your own liking. But to think that you’d spent a whole twenty minutes in front of his door, lost in thoughts..

“I… Well I..” You bite the inside of your cheek, your brows creasing into a confused frown. You open your mouth to speak, but what comes out is not a coherent response, rather… “Your hair is brown.”

Beomgyu looks taken aback for once, his own frown deepening tenfold as he regards you with confusion. “So?” He retorts, folding his arms across his chest. — You don’t think it had ever occurred to you, but the unkempt and wild mess atop his head was a dark shade of brown, nearly black. It suited him, sure, it made his already sharp features and dark eyes stand out even more. But you couldn’t help but wonder why…

All of the people in Strawberryland had cheerful and bright colors. You thought of Blueberry Kai’s bright blue hair, Lemon Drop Soobin’s warm yellow and Yeonjun Sorbet’s striking red. Yet Peach Beomgyu had…brown hair? It didn’t make any sense. — Beomgyu looks almost insulted as he waits for you to respond, impatiently tapping his foot against the threshold.

“Isn’t your hair supposed to be…peach colored?” You say, pointing a curious finger to the mess on his head. Beomgyu frowns, reaching a hand up to run through the dark locks as he waves you off, huffing in dismay. “What’s it to you?” He tsk’s, his attention flickering down to the jam in your basket once more, and only when his gaze meets yours do you register the silent question behind his eyes.

“O-Oh, right I brought you more jam!” You force a small smile, the least you could do was be polite. You were determined to make friends with him, one way or the other. And as you hand him the glass container, Beomgyu takes it. It’s a huge first step, and you feel your heart swelling at the action. He twists the jar between his fingers, studying it like it might explode on him any second now.

At last, he gives a small hum of approval. — “It’s good, right?” Your question comes out too cherry, already celebrating your small victory. Beomgyu quickly shoots that bird down with a sneer. “I’m being polite, there’s a difference.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his eyes taking over your hopeful frame once more. “Though I’m sure you couldn’t tell the difference even if you wanted to.”

The door slams shut on your nose.

Suddenly, the forest is cold again, the heat falls from your face, the fire coursing within you being drowned out by a bucket of cold water. Well, there goes that. You wait by his door for another five minutes, but the small cottage is silent. The curtains are drawn, shutting you out, just like he did everybody else.

With heavy steps you climb off the porch, cringing at how the old and withered boards creaked under your weight. Your sigh echoes against the tall trees that loom above you, and you slowly make your way down the muddy path. You had noticed on your second visit that flowers didn’t seem to grow here, any sign of vegetation seemingly drowned out by the nearly unbearing anger and resentment that lingered in these woods.

Had Beomgyu really caused all of that?

You think back to your brief encounter with him, with Beomgyu. But no matter how hard you tried, your mind seemed to get caught on his brown hair, you couldn’t quite shake it off. You only knew one other brown-haired individual here, and that was Gingerbread Taehyun. But Beomgyu and Taehyun were far from alike, and you shake your head once more.

Something was wrong, very clearly so. For the way Beomgyu had disregarded the matter, shoving it aside like it pained him to be reminded of… You longed to know what could have caused it. And you find yourself imagining a different Beomgyu, a Beomgyu that smiled. With light and peachy hair, a pink blush coating his soft cheeks, warming his pale face up. You imagine a Beomgyu with dimples that dented into his skin hard from laughter.

You imagine a happy Beomgyu.

The fantasy makes your steps return to their usual light skip, and by the time you re-enter the lively village, you feel happy again.

⸝⸝

With your basket filled once more, you head down the cobbled road, taking you around Strawberry town. Today you were in a particularly good mood. You don’t know if it had to do with meeting Blueberry Kai out by his berry bushes, or if it had to do with the little rabbit you saw in your garden this morning. But you were determined to make this day a perfect one.

In fact, you were in such a joyous mood that the dark clouds crowding the village did not bother you as you went knocking on each and every door. For each smile you received, for each jar you handed out, the love beating within your heart only seemed to grow. — When you turn off the large road, and venture onto the muddy path taking you deep within the forest, you’re filled to the brim with love. And if there was one person in Strawberry village that needed it, it was Peach Beomgyu.

You think you’re about halfway there when the first droplet lands on the tip of your nose. The cold water makes you frown as it slides down your face, catching on your bottom lip. Sticking your tongue out to taste it, the sweet flavor fills your mouth. After that another one follows, then another one, and another one. It’s not long before rainfall is pouring down over you, clinging to the leaves and splashing against the forest floor in dramatic effect.

Blinking the droplets from your eyes, you scurry forward, pulling your coat tighter around yourself as you hurry. Mud clams to your orange shoes, dirtying them in disgraceful shades of brown. But you carry on, relief flooding your chest as the familiar little house floats into vision. You do not stop to consider who’s door you were actually knocking on when you slam your fist against the weathered wood.

Today, you have no time to wait outside for another five minutes, you have no time to bicker with the grumpy man over his doorstep and you certainly don’t want to turn on your heel and endure the unpleasant walk home. There was little that could diskindle your spirits, but rain and mud were definitely two of them.

Much to your immense relief and surprise, the door glides open a mere minute later, revealing a confused looking Beomgyu. The smile stretching across your lips only seems to make his scowl grow. Yet you persist, giving him your widest and most pleading eyes as you silently beg for him to let you inside. — Beomgyu’s harsh gaze flickers from your wet coat, clinging to your body and the adamant look on your face before shifting to the heavy rain that battered against his porch.

With a displeased groan he steps to the side, allowing you to skip inside the small cottage. Your excitement as you enter his home is followed up by a small squeal, your gaze darting around as you take in the unfamiliar surroundings. — Beomgyu’s house was unlike anything you had ever imagined, not to say that you had spent a deliberate amount of time trying to figure out how he lived, you had merely been…Curious, so to say.

From the peachy curtains to the matching sets of creamy pink pillows that adorned his small sofa, everything seemed to follow a peachy theme. The fireplace sparking in the middle of the room draws your attention and you quickly find yourself huddling in front of it as you rub your cold hands together.

Your quiet ‘woah’ as you pull your orange coat from your wet body rings out into the silent house. The kitchen by the corner looks to have been used recently, a small pot of something placed on the stove. Amazed by the fact that Peach Beomgyu lived like any other resident in Strawberry village, your jaw hangs open as you remain frozen in place.

Somewhere behind you, Beomgyu emerges from the hallway. He stops a good distance from you, leaning against one of the crowded bookshelves pushed up alongside the wall, his arms folded across his chest. You send him a bright smile, “Thank you”, you say, not knowing how else to show your gratitude for his hospitality.

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, a small scoff passing his lips as he averts his gaze, his dark eyes lingering on something you couldn’t quite catch. A brief silence follows, it’s almost awkward.. You’re not exactly sure what to say, what he would appreciate hearing, if anything even suited those pesky ears of his.

So you hum, quietly rocking back and forth on your feet as you glance at the decorations above the fireplace. They were nothing fancy, and most of the tiny figurines looked old, perhaps he’d inherited them. Come to think of it, you don’t remember ever hearing anything about a family member of his. The thought sadeness you for reasons you cannot understand. It wasn’t like Beomgyu was opposed to the solitary life he lived, he’d chosen it for himself, hadn’t he?

Yet you can’t help but purse your lips at the thought of living like this, no matter how cozy his quaint little cottage was, it still lacked the warmth of love. — “It is a lovely home you’ve got”, you say, trying your best to show interest in the way he’d decorated the space. But Beomgyu doesn’t seem to buy into the mundane compliment. He merely shrugs, letting out a small grunt as his dark eyes flicker back to you.

“Why were you out in the rain?” It’s the first time he’s ever asked you an actual question, the first time he’d even seemed moderately interested in anything that regarded you. Your smile only widens, and you can see the way his face twists in distaste at your ever so cheerful attitude. “Well why do you think? I was delivering jam!” The exclamation immediately makes you jump as you come to your senses and you reach for the basket you had discarded on the floor.

The small jar is wet and you wipe it against the sleeve of your shirt before skipping over to him in order to hand him it. Beomgyu’s arms remain stubbornly crossed as his gaze flits between the orange jam and your hopeful grin. With a small groan he relents and plucks it from your waiting hand, shoving it onto the shelf next to him as he averts his attention elsewhere.

You wondered if your presence made him uncomfortable. Judging by the way he stood, the greater portion of his body turned as far away from you as possible, and his jaw clenched, you would guess it did. Then again, was there anyone Peach Beomgyu liked? You did not take his grumpy demeanor or his shortcut responses personally. Still, there was an unmistakable opportunity at hand, and you would be a fool not to take it.

“Mind if I take a seat?” You ask, but you’re already approaching the small couch. Beomgyu’s lip twitches, but he gives a small nod, his arms returning to their crossed position over his chest. His sofa is oddly comfortable, allowing you to sink into the cushion as you lean back slightly. The warmth of the fire caresses your cold face, slowly melting the layer of metaphorical ice that had built around you. No amount of fire would be able to melt the harsh ice block surrounding Beomgyu, you thought with a small grin.

He remains unmoving and unspeaking, quietly watching you from his spot by the corner of the room. You did not insult him on his lack of manners, he had actually allowed you inside his home even as you showed up unannounced, perhaps that was more than enough. — Your attention falls on your muddy shoes and a pang of guilt flares through you. “Oh, sorry, I should’ve taken these off!”

Beomgyu opens his mouth to speak but is quickly interrupted as you kick the pointy orange heels off your feet, scurrying toward the door as you place them right in front of it. “Sorry, I’ll clean it up, don't worry!” You say as you dart for his kitchen. Quickly disoriented, you tug open drawers and pull cabinet doors in search of anything to clean the stain you had left on his floors. “Where do you keep your towels?” You ask, so caught up in trying to resolve the mess you’d unintentionally caused that you didn’t even notice him creeping up behind you.

“Here”, he says as he hands you a peach colored rag. You freeze, for his voice came from just above your ear, his chest nearly pressed against your back. The scent of fresh peaches made you nearly drowsy as you blink before gingerly accepting the cloth from him, trying your hardest to ignore the way your fingers brushed against one another, the tingle that the soft fuzz coating his skin left. “I… Thanks”, you coyly mumble, desperately wishing he wouldn’t catch on to the stammer of your voice as you round him in the small kitchen, quickly slipping away from his intoxicating presence.

What was that.. You think to yourself, brows knitted together in a confused frown as you find yourself on the floor, scrubbing the muddy stains away. The sounds of his approaching footsteps make your eyes widen, and you refuse to turn your head in his direction. — “It’s really not necessary”, he mutters, the usual grumpiness to his voice replaced with something akin to guilt. But you firmly shake your head, scrubbing even harder at the old wood. “It’s fine, no problem! I caused it!” You chirp, ignoring his small huff as you continue to clean.

When you’re done you gingerly rise to your feet, clutching the now dirty rag between your fingers as you bite the inside of your cheek. Beomgyu reaches for it again, but you quickly pull back, you don’t think you could bear feeling his skin against yours a second time. “I’ll put it away!” You quickly say, plastering on the biggest of grins you could muster, “Where do you want it?”

Beomgyu’s expression is unreadable as he studies you for a moment. It looks almost as if he’s about to say something, but he stops himself, shaking his head once as he points down the hall. Quickly nodding, you follow in that direction, the sounds of your feet padding against the floor ringing in your ears.

Finally away from his intense gaze, you exhale a sigh of relief as you turn to relocate yourself. The dark hallway had led you to what you presumed to be a small washroom, racks of clothes crowded the vast majority of the space, and you found a small sink as well. You place the dirty cloth in the hamper before turning to head back. But before you can even get as much as another step in, a door to your left catches your attention. It’s slightly ajar, letting on to the bed inside.

Quickly glancing down the hall once more, you dare a small peek inside. Beomgyu’s bedroom did not match the rest of the house. It lacked all the peachy colors, instead it was crowded from head to toe in… books. Sure the bookshelves in the living room had caught your attention earlier, but just as the old figurines, you’d figured that it was something he’d inherited. Now you can’t help but wonder if Beomgyu actually enjoyed literature. While the prospect did indeed seem odd, it wasn’t entirely out of place either. There was only so much entertainment out here..

But before you get the chance to investigate further, the sounds of floorboards creaking pulls you from your brief trance. Sharply turning on your heel, you make your way back into the living room where Beomgyu was waiting for you. — The rain was still pouring down outside, and you had little clue of just how long you were going to be stuck here.

As your gaze falls on Beomgyu, you feel your breath getting caught in your throat. You don’t know what it was, but something had changed. Something that made you so impeccably drawn to him in a way you could not fathom. You tried to reason with yourself, you tried to shift the blame onto the weather, onto the clumsy mistake of waltzing inside his home without as much as a second thought.

But as your eyes linger by his dark ones, the narrowed gaze he still held, you find that it’s none of those things. Suddenly you know why you keep returning to this small hut, why you bother with the twenty minute walk back and forth, why you face rejection on his doorstep each time. — You felt empathy for him, perhaps even pity. You pitied Beomgyu, the lonely boy who lived all alone out in the forest, with no one to come visit.

And perhaps that was naive of you. To even think that he cared about something as trivial as a bit of company. Yet you couldn’t find it in you to take his mean and cruel demeanor to heart. Because no matter how harsh the bark was, he never seemed to bite. He had let you inside his home, in spite of your persistent nagging on his porch for the past weeks. He hadn’t minded when you dirtied his floors, and even now, he didn’t seem to want you to leave.

So were you really that naive to think that what you were doing was right? That what you were doing was appreciated by him, even if he didn’t show it. You want to think so.

“Do you want me to make you tea?” You chirp, breaking the thick silence that had filled the small living room. Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow at you, but merely shrugs. You weren’t even sure if he had the ingredients to make tea, you had just assumed… It was something everyone had, no?

Ignoring his nonchalant response, you walk past him and into the small little kitchen once more. It wasn’t at all like your big one at home, but then again, you doubted that he spent his days making fifty jars worth of apricot jam. — He doesn’t follow you, and part of you is relieved. His absence allows you to work casually as you still tried to figure out what about him had made you so nervous all of a sudden.

You take your time as you bring out a pot, setting it down on the stove as you fill it with water from the tap. Once it’s slowly boiling, you rummage around to find yourselves a pair of cups to drink from. Pulling drawers upon drawers open, you cough as the smell of dust invades your senses, some of these looked to have been kept shut for years.

As a last resort, you tug the cabinet door above the fridge open. And your eyes immediately widen as they fall on the empty jars stacked inside. All of them are cleaned out, the glass reflecting in the dim light of the kitchen. Your gaze lingers by the orange lids, and the silk ribbons you’d tied around them still intact. A small smile tugs at your lips, your heart warming at the sight. He even kept the jars.

Quickly slamming the cabinet shut when he approaches, you turn to him with a flushed expression. “Where are your cups?” You squeak, the surprise in your tone evident, not having expected him to reappear so soon. — Beomgyu leans against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest as he nods toward the one drawer you had yet to open. Mentally slapping yourself, you turn to it with a tight smile as you pull it open.

As you prepare the herbs for the tea and check on the water, you try to make plain conversation. You ask him about the weather, about what he does during the days or if he has any upcoming plans. You find that he’s a very concise individual, and you’re never able to pull more than a short sentence from him as he begrudgingly responds to your persistent interrogation.

Still, he stays in the kitchen until you finish pouring the cups. Whether that was because he didn’t trust you around his house or because he wanted to be there, remained unknown to you.

The tea is boiling hot against your tongue, yet you insistently bring it to your lips, taking small and hesitant sips as you desperately avoid his gaze. For someone so short of words, he seemed to have no problem staring at you. You told yourself that it might have to do with his lack of social interaction. But his unyielding gaze slowly chipped away at your resolve, making you all the more anxious as you glanced out the window, wishing for the rain to let up soon.

It still felt so surreal, standing in Peach Beomgyu’s kitchen, drinking tea from his cups, as if this was just another Thursday afternoon. But his prolonged silence made the growing tension between you feel anything but mundane and ordinary. Did he really not have anything to say? You had tried every approach imaginable, there was nothing that would get him to utter more than a small hum.

As your eyes peer out the window, and over what you imagined to once have been a garden, a new question surfaces. — Your attention flickers back to him, still by the door frame, he’s gripping the cup in one hand, barely having sipped his tea, he seems far too preoccupied with watching you.

“Don’t you grow any peaches?” You ask, letting your head fall to the side as you take your turn in studying him. Beomgyu’s unreadable expression morphs into a small frown, and he ponders your question for a moment. When a whole minute passes, you think he might not reply at all, it wouldn’t be completely unexpected, for he had little manners as it was. But then he suddenly shifts his weight over to his other leg, readjusting his hold on the cup.

“No.”

He states firmly, finally bringing the peachy mug to his lips as he takes a sip of his tea. It’s your turn to frown, your gaze dropping to the brown mixture swirling in your own cup as you bite the inside of your cheek. “Why not?” — Everyone in Strawberryland tended to their fruits, so why didn’t he?

Beomgyu shrugs, appearing more than disinterested in the conversation taking place. “I don’t like them”, he says, the nonchalance in his tone taking you aback as your eyes snap to him. Don’t like them? But he was Peach Beomgyu, was he not supposed to love peaches? You want to ask him what he means by that, what made him so resentful of the one thing he represented. But the closed off look on his face made you waver. You did not want to blindly push and prod at buttons which you had no clue of.

You remain silent, awkwardly sipping your tea as you avoid his burning gaze.

And as your cups emptied out, the rain stopped.

⸝⸝

Peach Beomgyu did not like visitors. In fact, he detested them. Much so that he had gone to the quite extreme length of putting up warning signs in front of his house. And while the signs did their job at keeping nosey little kids out, they seemed futile on that persistent ball of joy that would skip past them as she neared his cottage.

Beomgyu could not understand what made Little Apricot come back over and over again. He could not understand what kept you in such a jolly mood and he could certainly not fathom the reasoning behind the little jars of jam you would leave behind. — It irked him in a way that was beyond explainable. And every three or four days, he would be pulled from whatever book he was reading by two curt knocks to his door.

Internally groaning he would shake his head, ignoring the fierce ray of sunshine on the other side. But you just wouldn’t leave. The sounds of you humming along to a light melody would slip through the cracks of his shut door, it would creep inside his house and dance across him, taunting him with its sickly sweetness. Beomgyu would swat it away, pressing his nose further into his book as he desperately tried to ignore any signs of your presence.

You would always leave after a few minutes, taking your light and cherry song with you as you did. And Beomgyu would always sigh out in relief, ignoring the small tug at his chest when the silence enveloped him once more. — He would get up, carefully pull the curtains to the side as he watched your bright orange coat disappear into the thick forest of trees.

Then he would open his door, stopping in his tracks as his gaze flickered down to the little jar you’d left behind. When it first occurred he’d slammed the door shut. Ignoring the jar for a good twenty minutes before ripping the door open again with a frustrated huff, finding the jam still there, its bright orange color stinging his eyes.

For some reason, Beomgyu had picked it up, he’d turned it in his hands and opened the lid. The creamy jam smelled just like you, the soft and sweet aroma of apricot prickling his nose in a most unfamiliar way. And he’d taken the jar inside, stubbornly ignoring it for a whole day before he finally caved. — It tasted just as delicious as it smelled, as delicious as you smelled.

Beomgyu finished the jar in half a day, and when it was all empty, he found himself staring at the clean glass with a confused frown. It was just jam. He scoffed as he shoved the empty jar into a cabinet, blatantly ignoring the fact that he had yet to throw it away, telling himself that he might find use for it in the future.

When you returned mere days later, he ignored you, yet he found another jar, just like the first on his porch. It would go on like that, and for some reason, Beomgyu found himself listening after that sickeningly cheerful melody you always sang. And everytime you knocked on his door, his fingers would itch to reach out and open it, for reasons he could not understand, and did not want to.

But on your seventh return, you did not give your usual curt knocks, you did not hum along to any melody at all. At first, Beomgyu didn't even believe it to be you. But as he opened the door, and found Little Apricot on his porch, drenched from head to toe, he found himself unable to move. Not even when you pleaded with him so nicely did it register what you were asking.

And suddenly you were inside his home, the place he treasured so dearly and had sealed off to the rest of the world. Yet you had managed to worm your way inside, and the feeling that bloomed within his chest was like no other. — You were everywhere, the same sickeningly sweet scent of your apricot jam now filled his entire home. It clung to the walls, soaked in the carpets and dusted off on the furniture. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t block it out, and you occupied his mind and body fully. It confused him.

You quickly made yourself at home, and Beomgyu noted that you were just as dutiful about any other task as you were your jam. Rushing about even though you barely found your way, tugging cabinet doors and pulling drawers open as you made the two of you tea. — He doesn’t know why he lets your eager hands wander over his belongings, why he drinks the tea you make him or why he even bothers to answer any of your invasive and prying questions.

He feels nearly dizzy in your presence, it’s a strange and uncanny feeling, a feeling he hasn’t felt in years, if ever. And Beomgyu doesn't know if he should fear the warm and fuzzy feeling that spreads within his chest as he looks at you, or if he should give in to it completely. Though if he did, he feared that you wouldn’t ever look at him the same.

Oh but Beomgyu likes the way you look at him. With big and hopeful eyes. You don’t seem to understand just how messed up he is, or perhaps you do, and in that case you had to be stupid to ignore it. Naive. That was probably the right word. Gullible, sweet, and far too kind for your own good. Did you not know not to trust everything you see? He shakes his head at the thought.

Still, there’s an odd feeling of comfort in the way you embrace him, with your kind words and quiet care as you deliver him jam. He doesn’t want to let go of that feeling just yet, though if he ever tries to pursue it, he thinks you might crumple in front of him. — It has him torn. And as he lies in bed that night, the smell of apricots linger around him, pressing in on him with a demanding force.

He groans as he turns over, burying his face in the pillows. But all he can see is you, your bright orange coat, and he can smell you, you’re everywhere, plaguing his body and mind. He twists uncomfortably, stubbornly ignoring the heat pooling in his stomach, refusing to let his hands wander as he tries to block out any thought of you.

Beomgyu wishes that you won’t come by his house again. He knows he won’t be able to stop himself if you do.

⸝⸝

The soft knock to your door makes you tear yourself from the empty jars you were currently wiping down, discarding them on the countertop as you make your way over to the entrance. Your steps are light and cherry as you skip over, fingers twisting the lock, an excited grin already plastered across your face. — “Blueberry Kai!” You squeal when you’re met with the sight of the blue haired boy, his tall frame looming over you as he gives a shy nod.

“Hi Little Apricot!” He says, his face flushing in an adorable shade of blue. Your gaze drifts to his hands, clutching a blue box tightly. “I uh..” He sends you a coy smile as he extends the box, “Got you this.. As a thank you, for you know.. All you do.”

It’s with wide eyes that you happily accept the gift, feeling its weight in your hands as you gently pluck the lid. Your attention falls on the freshly baked blueberry pie and the sweet aroma immediately fills your nostrils. With a wide grin, you glance up at him, “You’re the best Kai!”

The two of you settle out in your garden, amidst the many apricot trees you had planted, all blooming with ripe and orange fruits. Hungrily wolfing down the pie Kai had brought, you barely make time for conversation as you focus on savoring the flavors on your tongue. And when you for the fifth time exclaim, “It’s delicious!”, Kai can’t help but chuckle.

Once the wave of desire has cooled off, and your stomach starts to feel full, you lean back in your chair as you regard him with a questioning expression. It looked like something was bothering him, for his usual lopsided smile was nowhere to be found, and his brows furrowed across his forehead. — “Is something up?” You ask him as you wipe your lips on the corner of a napkin, gently placing it down as you twist in your seat.

Kai’s head snaps in your direction, and he gives a sheepish look, as if you’d caught his drift of mind. “Yeah I just..” He trails off, as if unsure of how to word himself properly. You wait, your legs swinging back and forth as your bare feet drag through the wild grass, the feeling tickling your sensitive skin.

“Have you been seeing Peach Beomgyu?”

The question was not one you’d expected, and you feel your face heat up as you turn your gaze back to the blue haired boy. “I deliver him jams, just like everyone else!” You say, plastering on an even wider grin as you try and brush past the topic. But Kai doesn’t let it go, his brows creasing even further as he leans forward. “Why? I mean, it’s not like he’s done anything for you.. And I’m not saying I don’t think it’s kind of you”, he takes a breath, slowly letting it go. “But what if he’s just using you, Apricot?”

Your frown makes him immediately continue as he says; “I mean, he’s not exactly friendly.. I’m just afraid you’ll end up getting taken advantage of, your kindness is something many of us take for granted…” — His words made you think, your chin jutted out as your mind traveled back to the visits you’d paid Beomgyu. You recall the many times he’d slammed the door in your face, and the times in which he hadn’t opened it at all. Suppose Kai might have a point…

But you also remember that rainy day not too long ago. You remember the way his gaze lingered by you, the way your heart fluttered at his mere presence. It couldn’t possibly be what Kai was implying, could it? If he was really taking advantage of your kindness, why did your heart beat so quickly at the thought of his name?

“I think he deserves the jam just as much as anyone else in Strawberryland”, you state, nodding to yourself as you sink back in the chair, arms spread on the armrests. Kai bites the inside of his cheek remaining quiet, though the look on his face told you that he wished to intervene further.

“I talk to him”, you shrug, acting as if the matter was nothing short of common for you. — “He is actually quite an interesting person, if you give him a chance.” You send Kai a small smile, but the blue haired boy doesn’t seem to buy it as he runs a hand through his short hair. “I don’t know Apricot… There’s a reason he lives out there..” — “Like what?” You cut him off, leaning forward in an instant with an almost challenging look on your face.

Kai opens his mouth to speak, then he stops himself. You watch as he battles with himself for a moment before finally sighing. “Well he’s…Different.” — “Different how?” You knew you were pushing him now, and that he soon would be caving, but you didn’t care. For a small part of you, a part you had tried to ignore for long, felt the need to defend Beomgyu, even if you hardly knew him, it felt like your responsibility. Because if you didn’t, then who would?

“You don’t know?” Kai suddenly asks and your face falls for a moment. Didn’t know what? Kai shifts in his seat as he glances around your flourishing garden, as if checking for witnesses, and when he speaks again, it's in a hushed whisper. “You know… About the peaches..”, he murmurs, swallowing as he holds your gaze.

“The peaches?” You repeat, a little too loud for his liking as he winces. “Yes”, he mutters between sealed lips. “He can’t… I mean, he says he doesn’t like them, but the truth is he can’t even grow them.” Kai leans back up as soon as he’s uttered the words, hurriedly checking his surroundings once more before shrinking back against the backrest of his chair.

Your face contorts into a confused grimace, “Can’t grow peaches?” That’s ridiculous, everyone in Strawberryland grows their own fruits, what could possibly make him so different? Kai slowly nods as he fiddles with the spoon discarded on his empty plate. “I mean, I’m sure he doesn’t want to either, but even if he did, he physically can’t”, he shrugs before continuing, “That’s why he moved out there, so that the rest wouldn’t have to know how much of a failure he was…” He says the last words with a hint of sympathy, and you couldn’t help the way your chest churned at the thought.

“You’re saying I should stay away from him?” It’s not a question but a statement, you didn’t need an answer because Kai had already made himself clear. Yet he gives a firm nod, letting the silverware drop back onto the plate. “Yes”, he says, “I’m worried that whatever curse lingers around him might transfer onto you…Besides, who knows what he’s capable of..”

It hurt, hearing him speak so negatively of Beomgyu. Suppose you had grown a small attachment to the grumpy peach, so what? Delivering him some jam every now and then certainly didn’t harm anyone. You failed to see Kai’s reasoning, failed to see the worry laced within his words. Still, you did something most uncharacteristic, you lied.

“I won’t go see him.”

⸝⸝

Your basket isn’t as heavy as usual when you skip down the cobbled road. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that you had only brought three jars of jam today, and they were all meant for one person. — Throwing a final glance over your shoulder, you venture off the main road, emerging into the thick treeline as you begin the journey to Peach Beomgyu’s house.

Not only had you brought jam, but you’d put in the effort of baking muffins as well. They had come out slightly burnt, their edges a refined and dark black but you didn’t mind, they tasted just as sweet and you were sure they would go well with the jam. — To thank him, that was the goal of today, you told yourself. To thank him for his hospitality as he let you stay last time, and enough jars of jam to last him well over two weeks.

As you near the now familiar house, you can’t help but feel a sense of excitement. It flutters in the pits of your stomach, swirling around as your heart beats steadily within your chest. Had you not been so focused on the task at hand, perhaps you would’ve noticed the way the trees seemed to sway, the leaves rustling despite the lack of wind and the eerie silence that fell over the woods on this particular day.

But you don’t, and soon enough, you’re making the steps up his creaking porch. Your soft knock somehow seems to ring out like thunder in the thick and quiet air. — Glancing around, you prepare for the inevitable wait as you sway back and forth on your feet. But to your surprise, it is mere moments later that the door is ripped open, revealing a disheveled Beomgyu on the other side.

Immediately you notice the subtle flush across his normally pale and cold cheeks. His dark hair stands in all directions, and you frown as your gaze flickers over his dark eyes, his pupils widened to an extent that nearly concerns you. Was he sick? Had you come at a bad time? Your attention falls on the way his chest heaves with each jagged breath he takes, and it trails along his arm, finally landing on the way his fingers bore into the wood of the doorframe to steady himself, knuckles turning white at the sheer force he used.

“Beomgyu, is everything okay?” You ask, blinking the shock away as you readjust the grip on your basket. He doesn’t say anything, and you were just about to suggest coming back another time when he suddenly lurches forward. — You barely have time to realize what’s happening, but the feel of his vice-like grip around your wrist makes you wince as he yanks you inside.

The door slams shut behind you and the smell of peaches suddenly infiltrates your every sense. You don’t think you have ever smelled anything like it before. It was strong, sweet, almost sickly so. It felt far from the citrusy tang apricots carried and you frown as you glance around the area. His living room looks the same, kitchen too, where was the smell coming from? — A chill runs down your spine as you pick up on the sound of a lock clicking behind you. Beomgyu’s harsh exhale is hot against the back of your neck, and it makes the hairs there stand tall as you freeze in place.

When he places an equally warm hand on your shoulder do you realize that the smell is coming from him. He’s practically radiating it. And along with the thick layer of heat that coats him, it pulsates off of him with steady rhythm, slapping you across the face as you squint up at him. Just what was going on.. “Beomgyu..?” He doesn’t answer, and you fervently search his gaze, only to find that he’s looking at something completely different.

You cover your mouth with a trembling hand, a confused and alarmed frown painting the rest of your face. He must have caught something, a virus of some sort, something that made his body flare up like this, something that made him smell so…So truly divine. You shake your head, screwing your eyes shut as you take a step back.

He still hasn’t said anything, not a single word from the moment he ripped his door open. And when he takes a step forward, you find yourself immediately faltering backward. He chases you, with deliberate and long strides, and you don’t stop until your back hits one of his overcrowded shelves, the books and figurines on it rattling as you do. You turn your head in surprise, only to feel his hot fingers on your chin as he steers you back his way.

Beomgyu pries your hand from your lips, his breath audibly hitching in his throat when his eyes fall on your open mouth once more. He looks ready to swallow each shaky exhale you emit, and before you can protest does he slam his lips against yours. — Your eyes shoot open, your hands flying to his shoulders in an attempt to push him back. But Beomgyu was strong, scarily so, and he easily shoves you up against the shelf.

The small noise of surprise gets drowned out by his harsh groan, his hands gripping at your waist as he shoves you against the stacked books. — “B-Beomgyu wait- This isn’t…” You manage to gasp when he parts for air. His face is flushed in a light pink, and the mess of dark brown hair lays in uneven sections across his hungry eyes as he pants. It didn’t make any sense, none of this did.

Your basket had fallen to the floor due to all the commotion and one of the jars had rolled onto the hard wood. Beomgyu didn’t even seem to register the chaos he was creating as he pressed his lips back on yours. He kisses you with a need best described as insatiable, leaving room for nothing but his demanding ways as his tongue shoves past your parted lips, slipping into your mouth with urgency.

The shock slowly begins to wear off and you realize what’s actually going on. Peach Beomgyu was kissing you, well, he was damn near eating you. It didn’t… You didn’t… Your thoughts seemed to cut short, any sense of semblance slipping through the cracks of your fingers as you helplessly chased them. — You should push him off, you should yell at him and ask what in the world had gotten into him.

Because Peach Beomgyu didn’t make friends, and hell, he certainly didn’t kiss people. This was completely unwarranted and you deserved more than an explanation for his near outrageous actions.

For some reason, you find yourself pulling him even closer.

It barely registered at first. Your fingers moved on their own as they clutched the shirt he was wearing, tugging him against you with a force just as strong as his. You couldn’t explain it, the need to be close, the need to give in to every single thought that yelled for you to back away. — Kai’s words linger in your scrambled mind when Beomgyu’s hands go to the back of your thighs, hoisting you into his arms, forcing a proximity that was dangerously close.

Perhaps you should’ve listened to him when he’d told you to stay away. When he’d warned you about Beomgyu. Something was not right with him, you knew that, every fiber of your being told you that this was a bad idea. Yet your mind couldn’t seem to overpower the fire that spread inside your heart, clutching it tightly in its grip, pulling you towards Beomgyu.

You have always followed your heart. You followed it when you delivered jam, because it fluttered when the others appreciatively accepted their jar. You followed it because it beats extra hard when someone smiles your way. You followed it because it made you happy. Even now, you followed it, you followed it through the thick and dark trees, through the wilted flowers and the eerie silence that led all the way to his house.

You followed your heart all the way to Beomgyu, until you finally found yourself in his arms.

A noise of surprise rips from the back of your throat as he walks you over to the couch, setting you down amongst the peachy pillows. He stares down at you for a moment, his tongue swiping across your plump lips, and you find yourself mesmerized by him. In the dim light of the fireplace, he didn't look at all like his cold and mean self. Beomgyu looked warm, flourishing and alive.

The strong scent of peaches radiated off of him in waves, making your eyes flutter as you got a whiff of him. — Your mouth opens, you want to say something, you want to confirm that this moment is real, that this is just not a figment of your imagination and that you are actually here, that he’s actually here and that he’s… Him.

“You smell good.” His voice is gruff, and you can barely make out his dark eyes as he leans down, for his brown hair covers the majority of his flushed face. — You squeal when his lips drag across the juncture of your neck, when his hot tongue presses against your skin. “Like apricots..” He murmurs, as his nose nudging against your collarbone, “But better.”

He inhales sharply, the groan he emits going straight to your core and you feel a strange wave of desire build in your stomach. It felt weird, though not unpleasant, and certainly not unwelcome. — Still, you shriek when his fingers reach for your orange coat, insistently tugging it from your body. Beomgyu doesn’t even seem to register your bashful exclamation as you try to cover yourself, instead he tugs at your blouse, flicking the first few buttons open as his eyes rake across your warm skin.

“Fuck”, he grunts and you would be ashamed to admit that the small slip of his tongue made you throb. — “Do you like this?” He asks, his hungry eyes suddenly latching onto yours. Your face was practically on fire as you nodded, and Beomgyu’s smirk grew wide. “I can tell”, he then adds, making you jump as his hand slides up your inner thigh, stopping all the way under your plaid skirt, his fingers inches from the lining of your panties, “You reek of it.”

“I…” You did not know if that was a compliment or not. But you meekly tried to close your legs, only for Beomgyu to pry them apart again as he pushed your skirt up over your hips. — His breath is warm, much warmer than the fire sparking next to you. It makes your skin flare up as it caresses you.

“Please”, he murmurs, the words barely audible as his head drops down between your thighs. “I need to taste you, just once.” — You weren’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but the strange flutter rising in your stomach had become almost impossible to ignore and out of sheer desperation you nod, breathing out a small, “yes.”

Beomgyu doesn’t need to hear it twice. Two of his long fingers slip around the hem of your panties, tugging the garment down your legs, though giving up halfway when his impatience got the better of him. The sound of cotton ripping fills your ears, making you dizzy as he exhales against your bare cunt, nearly panting against it upon eyeing the orange cream that your arousal had built up.

Your eyes fly open when he first licks a stripe along your core, a surprised moan leaving your lips as you peer down at him. Fingers digging into the plush and peachy couch, you swallow, your gaze training on his brown hair as it buries between your legs, longing to reach out and touch him. — The first, almost hesitant taste he’d gotten only seemed to make him spiral even further and you choke on a small gasp as the bridge of his nose presses against your clit, his tongue dwelling deep inside your cunt as his hands grab at your waist, sliding down your thighs.

His eyes flutter in ecstasy, the creamy taste of apricots overwhelming his taste buds as the acidic sensation floods him. He quickly realizes that he needs more, and a lot of it. “W-Wait, wait, Beomgyu–” The tingling feeling bubbling within you felt like it was about to implode on you, it made your thighs tremble and your head spin as you fought to stay somewhat composed.

But it’s like he’s on a different planet, nothing you said mattered when you were so perfectly spread before him, your warm and inviting cunt just waiting for him to completely devour. Your soft whines and silent pleas made his head spin, and he knew he needed more, as much as possible.

Your head tips back when his fingers suddenly slide between your soaked folds, digging into your quivering cunt as he curls them. — “B-Beomgyu..” His name leaves your lips a mere whimper, though you’re not sure what you’re even asking of him. You want to say something, to convey the heat inside of you, the feelings swirling within your chest and the fierce beating of your heart. But the words get caught in your throat, your eyes screwing shut as pleasurable vibrations course through you.

Beomgyu moans at the taste of your release on his tongue, greedily lapping up every single droplet of creamy apricot as he tugs you closer. He doesn’t seem to worry about breathing, and his chest heaves dramatically against the couch cushion, his hips stuttering as he shudders. — The feeling of his tongue against your clit suddenly goes from overwhelming to overbearing, and your thighs clamped around his head as your hands push him back.

“N-No more!” You gasp, your face flushed in all shades orange as you blink fervently. Beomgyu groans when he separates from your cunt, a displeased look flashing across his desire-filled expression. The lower half of his face is coated in a thick layer of something dangerously close to the apricot jam he’d been feasting on for weeks. He blatantly ignores your gawking stare as he wipes the mess from his cheeks, stuffing his fingers into his mouth, his eyes already searching for more as he attempts to spread your legs once more.

You whine, rubbing your thighs together in embarressment, resisting a shiver as his hand runs across your knee and down your calf. “One more”, he says, and though his voice is masked by a layer of determination, you can still decipher the silent plea as his dark eyes search yours. — Biting the inside of your cheek, you shyly avoid his gaze as you let it wander across his body.

With a slightly shaky hand you point to the shirt he’s wearing. “T-Take it off..” You murmur, the small sentence nearly inaudible. The uncharacteristic smirk he’d been wearing since your arrival quickly finds its way back to his lips and Beomgyu complies as he tugs the garment over his head, discarding it on the floor as he turns back to you with a look of expectancy.

Admittedly so, you had been craving a closer look at him since the day you’d first found yourself on his porch. Something about him pulled you in. Perhaps it was the subtle pink flush of his face, one that had intensified right now, making him almost glow. Or it was the soft fuzz that crawled across his skin, it feels ticklish under the tips of your fingers as you trail them along his naked chest. Peach fuzz, you think to yourself with a small smile. — Beomgyu shudders, but bites back another comment as he watches you with dark eyes.

Your attention flickers to his hair, dark and unkempt. His hair left a lot of questions, some which you had spent more time pondering than you’d like to admit. Your hands card through the surprisingly soft locks, giving them a gentle tug and Beomgyu groans, his head immediately falling forward as he wraps an arm around your waist.

He pulls you onto his lap in seconds, making you straddle his hips, ignoring the way you wince as your sensitive cunt makes contact with the rough fabric of his pants. — Your gaze drops to the not so subtle bulge straining against the fabric, your hands tentatively palming him through the material, carefully gauging his reaction.

The strands of his dark hair tickle your neck as he leans forward to press languid kisses along your shoulder. His teeth drag across your skin, and for a moment you thought he might actually try and take a bite out of you. It was like he was trying to merge with you, to envelop you fully, like that was the only way to extinguish the fire burning within.

He helps you with the zipper, swiftly tugging his hard cock from the confinements of his pants, giving it a few deliberate strokes as he directs kisses to your blazing skin. — You can’t help but eye the way his fingers wrap around his shaft, noting the way he presses his thumb against his slit, shuddering against you as he does. Eager to do the same, you reach out. Beomgyu freezes when your hand joins in on top of his, but makes no move to brush you off.

Saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of light and pink precum dribbling from his flushed tip, it perfectly matched the flush of his face. Beomgyu chokes on a strained moan when your fingers swipe across his slit, gathering the sticky and sweet substance on your hand as you bring it to the lips. — He tastes sweet, like peaches, ripe and perfectly harvested. You sigh at the euphoric taste, your eyes fluttering as your tongue darts out to lick at the remnants that had spilled down your chin.

Beomgyu’s throbbing cock twitches at the sight and he doesn’t hesitate as yanks you forward. “Don’t do that”, he breathes, “Please. Don’t do that.” It sounds as if he’s using all his willpower to hold back. You didn’t want him to. You wanted to see him just as he was, every last bit of him, you wanted to see it all, to familiarize yourself with everything that was him.

“You taste good”, you say, the compliment coming out a little breathless when he presses the tip of his cock against your overstimulated cunt. “Yeah?” He asks, pushing past the tight rim of muscle as he eases his way inside, bringing you back onto his thighs. “You do too.” — His words barely register in your mind, for it’s far too clogged up on the feeling of him, throbbing and alive, inside of you.

His hands are on your waist again, pulling you forward as he sets you in motion. You gasp at the way he brushes up against every bundle of nerves, soft eyelashes hitting your cheeks as your eyes flutter. — With trembling fingers you reach for his face, you wanted to kiss him again, you wanted it more than anything. In this very moment you felt greedy, selfish almost, your body moving on its own accord as you sought out pleasure.

You had always considered yourself a selfless person, always giving and giving, never expecting anything in return. It felt strange, you had never desired anything the way you desired Beomgyu right now. The feeling scared you. Was this what Kai had warned you about? Should you have listened. — Even if you wanted to, you don’t think you could ever stop now. It was too much, he was everywhere, all at once. Yet there never seemed to be enough.

Your lips crash against his with urgency, somehow the kiss turns out sweet. It’s soft, gentle, caring. Beomgyu hums into your mouth, the taste of peaches and apricots mixing with one another. It tastes sweet, refreshing, and exciting. — Your combined moans echo out into the small cottage, the fire burning alongside your already blazing bodies, intensifying the raw and intimate moment.

Suddenly you know what you’d been longing for all this time, what had been missing in your otherwise mundane but joyful life. Delivering jams wasn’t enough, the warm smiles only eased the loneliness in your heart to an extent. No, this, this was what you needed. Another warm body against yours, someone to devote yourself entirely to, someone who acted without expecting anything in return. You would like to think of Beomgyu that way, even though you know you probably shouldn’t.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect- I..” Beomgyu cuts himself off as he pulls back from the heated kiss. Sweat slides down his forehead and you lean in to press a small peck between his furrowed brows. His jaw slacks as he lets ragged breaths pass his parted lips, his hips jerking up to meet yours. — Large hands slide down the sides of your trembling thighs, running over the curve of your ass as he squeezes the soft flesh there.

“D-Don’t know how much longer…I’m..” You stumble over your words, foreheads pressed against one another as small wordless sounds of pleasure rips from your throat. Beomgyu hums, his fingers creeping up your spine, dark gaze trained to your tits, catching the way your perky nipples strained against the cotton of your blouse. — “Fucking perfect.” He grunts, repeating himself over and over, enjoying the way it sounded on his tongue.

His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing it in gentle motions. The action makes your teeth latch onto your bottom lip as tears prickle in the corner of your eyes. With a small cry you feel your orgasm course through you, your cunt desperately clenching around his cock, pulling a string of curses from Beomgyu as his head tips back, exposing his flushed neck and bobbing adam's apple.

The peach cream is warm as it sputters from his twitching cock, spreading throughout your belly when he finishes inside of you. It’s unexplainable, the closeness, the intertwinement, you feel almost bound to him in that moment. — His body feels electrifying against yours, the soft fuzz tickling you when he pulls you to his heaving chest.

It feels idyllic, being so close to him. He doesn’t feel at all like the Beomgyu you had acquainted yourself with. This feels raw, it feels real. The weeks you’d spent carefully peeling the layers back had led you here, a place in which you never would’ve even considered finding yourself in. — And when you peer up at him, you find it hard to ever look away. He looks dazed, half a smirk plastered onto his face as his arms tighten around you.

You did not know if this had been a mistake or not, you did not know if you would come to regret this the following day. But right now it felt just right, just perfect. — You wish to stay like this, if just a moment longer.

⸝⸝

You found that Beomgyu liked to sleep in.

As usual, you had woken along with the sun, rising as the first rays cast upon you. Stretching out with a small yawn, you freeze when your feet hit something hard. Cracking a groggy eye open, you find your toes stubbed against the armrest of a peachy couch. Shaking your head as you blink the sleep away, you glance around. — You were in Beomgyu’s living room.

Your gaze falls on the fire, it had since long died out, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. Then onto the discarded basket, tipped over on the floor a few paces away. And then to your bright and orange coat, thrown on the cream colored carpet. — At last, you settle on him. Beomgyu lays sprawled out on the sofa, taking up the vast majority of it as he forces you into a compromised position somewhere between its backrest and him.

With a small grunt you ease yourself into a sitting slouch, steadying yourself with a hand on his naked chest. The pink flush had gone down, and he no longer looked as if he were on fire. In fact, he looked almost peaceful like this. Blissfully asleep as he takes slow and steady breaths through his slightly parted lips. His eyes move behind closed eyelids, lashes fluttering, as his nose scrunches.

You reach out before you can even stop yourself, fingers carefully carding through his dark hair. Memories of your previous night together flash before you, replaying themselves in crisp clear quality. You remember his warm hands on you, his fuzzy skin against yours, his lips, the way he tasted, the way he made you feel. — Your body tingles all over at the mere thought.

Mindlessly your hands wander, not stopping until they reach a peculiar little mark on his ribcage. At first glance, it looked nothing out of the ordinary, and you would have probably brushed it off as a birthmark, had it not been for the way Beomgyu flinched when you pressed against it. — He groans, rolling over on his side, now facing you as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you to him as his face nuzzles against your stomach.

“Too early..” He complains, his voice muffled and laced with sleep as his hands clumsily grab at your hips. Pursing your lips, you reach for the mark once more, pressing the tips of your fingers against it. Beomgyu groans as he attempts to swat your hand away, persistently ignoring your advances until you finally speak up. — “What’s that?”

“Hm?” He raises his head, blinking against the bright sun before his attention shifts to where you’re pointing at. A small scoff passes his lips, his expression morphing into one of recognition and distaste, like you’d just reminded him of something he’d been trying to forget. — “It’s nothing”, he grunts, heaving himself into a sitting position as he stretches. Your eyes trail his figure with far less shame than you would’ve liked to admit. But as they do, you encounter several marks of the same kind.

“Beomgyu, there’s one here too”, you point to the reddish hue on his forearm. How had you not noticed these yesterday? Then again… Your cheeks flush as you recall the events of last night, quickly shaking your head as you try to rid yourself of such thoughts. — Beomgyu huffs, waving a dismissing hand your way as he tries to brush the topic off. “Don’t they hurt?” You quire, pushing the conversation further.

Beomgyu sighs, running a sleepy hand through his disheveled and dark hair. “Yeah, sure”, he mutters but doesn’t seem too bothered by the admission. — “Had them for as long as I can remember”, he then adds with a small shrug, “something about peaches bruising easily.”

You don’t question him on the topic again, he didn’t seem keen on talking about it. And you respected that. Yet you couldn’t help but get lost in thought as your mind pictured the dark spots. Were Kai’s words true? Had Beomgyu himself began rotting?

⸝⸝

You visit Beomgyu the next day, and the day after that, and even the one to come. He doesn't question your sudden appearances. And you no longer have to wait outside his shut front door, for he opens it right away, even if he lets you inside with nothing but a short nod or a small grunt.

The two of you don’t do much. You drink tea, sometimes you eat biscuits with the jam you brought. Other times he allows you to scour his crowded bookshelves, you use him as your own library, picking a book and returning with it a few days later. — Beomgyu will often sit on the couch, you by the warm fireplace as you ramble on about the book, sharing your thoughts excitedly. Often it felt as if you were conversing with yourself, but you knew that he was listening. You could tell by the way his lip twitched, or the way he rolled his thumbs over one another.

Neither of you bring up that night, the night where you had.. It’s buried, buried beneath the small talk. Buried beneath the tea and the biscuits, beneath the silence of just enjoying each other’s presence. — Beomgyu never tells you to leave, but you do so anyway. And though your heart yearned to spend another night in his house, you were not so sure that it was a good idea. You had yet to tell anyone about it, not even Blueberry Kai knew. The secret burdened you, in a way.

Beomgyu never mentioned the bruises again, so you didn’t either. Sometimes you would catch a glimpse of them, when his shirt slid up as he reached for a book on the top shelf, or when he rolled his sleeves up to do the dishes. If he ever caught you staring, he’d make sure to cover himself again. The sight pained you, and you wished there was something you could do. Anything.

When you weren’t at his house, you spent your days researching, as silly as it might sound. In the short span of a week, you had learned everything there was to know about peaches. From their soft and fuzzy outsides to their pink and creamy insides. You read about growing peaches, about harvesting peaches, you read about which seasons they thrive in and which they don’t. — Safe to say you confidently called yourself an expert.

Yet there was one peach you couldn’t quite seem to figure out.

Beomgyu was nothing like the peaches in the books, with the exception of the soft fuzz that coated him and the pink flush of his cheeks whenever he got flustered. And as the night drags on, your tired eyes follow along the written liens on the page before you in a lazy manner. With your head propped on your hand, you stifle yet another yawn as you blink the sleep away.

No, this wouldn’t do. All answers were not in books, and certainly not answers about Beomgyu. With the quick shake of your head, you slam said book shut, and with newfound determination you rise to your feet. — If you couldn’t ask him about it, then you would simply have to work with what you’ve got; and that was a whole bunch of newfound knowledge on peaches.

⸝⸝

The next morning you leave home before the birds wake. With nothing but a short blink of sleep but energy to feed an army, you march down the cobbled road. You don’t have to look for the small pathway that leads off the main street anymore, your feet take you there on your own, allowing your thoughts to wander as you dwell into the thick forest.

Beomgyu’s familiar house makes your chest swell, and your pace quickens as you approach. — The knocks you deliver to his door are sharp, demanding and slightly impatient. With the small click of your tongue, you glance around the silent woods, tapping your foot restlessly against the old porch. A minute or so later, the door glides open, and you’re met with a freshly woken peach.

“Do you know what time it is?” Beomgyu retorts, though his voice lacks its usual bite, he’d stopped using that with you. “It’s almost seven”, you chirp as you brush past him and into his homely living room, having already made yourself more than comfortable within his house. Beomgyu’s protesting groan becomes a faint background noise as you settle the heavy basket you were carrying onto his dining table.

It’s just now that he seems to notice it, his eyes scouring the items stacked inside, neatly concealed with a plaid blanket. — “What’s the meaning of this?” He mutters as he nears you, his chest brushing against your back as he reaches past you to peel the blanket off. You freeze, swallowing a small gulp as you blink a couple of times. Beomgyu had started doing that.. Being so close, you mean. It was as if the matter of personal space didn’t occur in his mind. Not that you minded, however it reminded you of your night together, and that was something you did mind.

“Peaches..!” You chime, trying your hardest not to let on to your flustered state. Beomgyu, on the other hand, goes silent behind you. His warm breaths are slow and steady against the back of your neck as his fingers fiddle with the handle of the basket. “What for?” He asks, his voice gruff and unreadable.

Hesitantly, you reach for one of the smaller bags, holding it up as you show him the tiny seeds inside. “They’re not peaches yet..” You murmur, and you’re thankful that he can’t see your face as it twists in embarrassment. — “I thought we could plant them together”, the proposal comes out a mere whisper, the words getting caught in your throat as you avoid glancing behind you to get his reaction.

Another eerie silence follows.

It drags on for nearly a whole minute before Beomgyu finally shifts behind you. “No.” He firmly states, the abrupt refusal washing over you like a bucket of ice cold water. This time you can’t hold yourself back from twisting on the spot, coming face to face with him. — “Why not?” You press, your brows furrowing as you grip the small bag of seeds.

Beomgyu leans forward, restricting the already confined space between the two of you. The back of your thighs press against the dining table, and you find yourself leaning backward when his nose nudges against your own. — “Because I don’t like peaches.” His expression is painted with distaste, as if the word itself spread a bitter taste on his tongue. However, you refused to back down, and with a small huff you shook your head; shoving him back as you grab the basket and head for the smaller door that leads out into his garden.

The fresh morning air is soothing against your burning skin, still tingling where his warm breath had caressed. You take in a deep breath, savoring the cool air as it slips down into your lungs. As you do, you survey the garden. While it wasn’t in horrible condition, it looked like it had been left unattended for the greater part of its existence. Yet you march forward, finding a nice open patch of grass as you sink to your knees.

You rummage through the basket in search of the small shovels you’d brought. Then comes the process of tearing up the ground beneath you. It’s a tedious process, but one that you find to quite enjoy. A familiar sensation of calm and peace washes over you as you work just like you would in your own garden; shoveling the soil into a pile next to you.

The sun is warm against your back as you work, yet its rays don't quite seem to reach the lonesome cottage, for the dark forest surrounding you shuts it out. — Wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, you find yourself completely engrossed in the task at hand. Much so that the sound of the door being opened and closed passes you by unnoticed.

Beomgyu’s steps are heavy as he slowly approaches your hunched over form. You feel his presence before you see it. The way his gaze tears holes through the back of your neck, dark and piercing eyes locked on your every move. He stops a pace away, maintaining a safe distance, as if the seed itself were to jump up and swallow him whole.

It’s quiet, neither of you saying anything as you let the tense air speak for itself. You can feel him watching you as you shovel more dirt, having made a decent depth to the hole. Briefly, you consider the fact that this might’ve been a mistake, that you had overstepped once and for all, and that this time, he wasn’t just going to brush it off as insistence. — When you reach for the bag of seeds, he suddenly speaks up:

“Why are you doing this?”

You hadn't expected him to ask that. Quite frankly you had expected him to drag you away. To shut his door in your face and tell you to never come back. His question makes you waver, fingers hovering above the opening section of the little bag as you freeze mid-action. Why were you doing this? To say pity felt derogatory, for you didn’t think Beomgyu longed for pity, if anything he repelled it. So what was it?

“Friendship”, you finally say, your hands resuming their work as you shake a few seeds out onto your open palm. “It’s what friends do”, you add as you turn to peer up at him. It was hard to make out his expression, the sun behind him momentarily blinding you. But his scoff is loud and clear, and you catch the way his fingers twitch as he resists the urge to clench them into fists.

He mutters something under his breath, the words inaudible to your ears. Then he crouches down next to you, the action taking you by surprise. A small, almost unnoticeable smirk is tugged across his lips, it's a strange look on him, one you don’t think you’d ever seen. — “Friendship?” He echoes as he glances toward the bag in your hand. You nod, rolling the seeds on the flat of your palm, “Are we not friends?”

Beomgyu pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze trained on something beyond your line of sight as he peers out and ahead. “I don’t know..”, he murmurs, his eyes briefly dropping to his own hands, splayed out in front of him. — “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend.” The admission is followed by the soft flush of his neck and cheeks, the light pink radiating on his skin.

His words make your chest tighten, the corners of your lips falling as your face drops. Never had a friend? You’d always assumed that Peach Beomgyu liked it better that way. Perhaps not, perhaps he was just as lonely as he looked right now. — Placing the bag of seeds down, you reach over, clasping his hand in yours. The small seeds linger within your intertwined palms, enveloped in the warmth simmering between you.

Beomgyu’s brow twitches, his dark eyes lifting as they lock with yours, a silent question lingering within them. — “I can be your first friend”, you smile, even though your stomach is fluttering with nerves. He looks slightly taken aback, like he hadn’t expected for those to be the words to come out of your mouth. His lips part, only for him to close them soon again, silently nodding.

Your heart was practically ablaze.

Only when his hand squeezes around yours do you seem to remember yourself as you shake your head. “Right”, you say as you point to the little hole you had dug, “Let’s plant these!” — Beomgyu seems hesitant at first, his eyes flickering between your intertwined fingers and the soil patch. Still, he reluctantly gives in as he lets you guide your joint hands toward the hole.

You make sure to gently pat the little seeds in, taking a moment to lean back and admire them before motioning for Beomgyu to cover them with dirt. He complies, gingerly scooping some into his palms as he covers the hole back up. Together you flatten it out, your hands bumping into one another as you do. It’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers flare up in pink whenever they touch yours, and you smile at the discovery.

When you’re finally done, you lean back up, placing your hands on your knees as you regard the small patch with pursed lips. “Now we wait”, you huff, realizing that even with the help of Beomgyu it would take a good couple of months before these were even close to being done. To wait and for so long for something was awfully boring.

With a reclined sigh, you begin collecting the tools you’d used, shoving them back into the basket. Beomgyu had gone awfully quiet next to you, quiet even for him. You pay it no mind, far too busy with re-organizing yourself. It’s not until his warm fingers suddenly grasp your chin, his touch feathery light yet scorching hot, that you react.

Your wide eyes barely manage to meet his upon turning your head before his lips press against yours. The sudden kiss takes you by surprise and you blink a couple of times before allowing your shocked eyes to fall shut. — It didn’t feel like it had that night, this was slow, timid almost, and Beomgyu was far more hesitant this time around as his hand went to your waist. It was cute, you thought.

And when he finally pulls back, there’s a warm pink covering the entirety of his face as he clears his throat into his closed fist. “Do..” He begins, quickly trailing off as he avoids your gaze. “I mean, is that something friends do?” — You frown, mouth opening and closing as you think of an answer.

“I don’t…I don’t think so. I think it’s something that more-than-friends do…”, you shyly admit, watching as the color that had just begun fading off of his face resurfaced once more. — Beomgyu grunts, shaking his head once, as if banishing the embarrassment from his mind, his dark hair falling in uneven sections in front of his eyes. “Then..”, he puts on a more stoic expression but you catch the nervous fidget of his fingers as they play with a strand of grass, “Then I want to be ‘more-than-friends’ with you.” — “If…If that’s okay?” He quickly adds, his face falling for a brief moment.

You can only nod, a grin stretching across your lips so wide that the corners of your mouth hurt. “I would like that very much.” — Beomgyu exhales a heavy sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping slightly as he peers at you through dark strands of hair. You awkwardly clear your throat, feeling your own face heat up at the request you were about to make:

“Can you…do that again? The kiss I mean..”

He chuckles, and you think it was the first time you ever heard him even remotely laugh. — “Without a doubt.”

⸝⸝

Things became different with Beomgyu after that. But it was a good different. It was different because he had started coming to you. — It had shocked you at first, when he’d knocked on your door, and you had opened it, expecting anyone but him. Even more so when he’d willingly accompanied you into town. Though he didn’t say much, he still followed along as you browsed the different stands, humming a quiet yes to whatever you found interesting.

People cast glances your way, but he didn’t seem to care for them. And neither did you, for the warm feeling of your hand in his washed away any other thoughts. — He even met Blueberry Kai once, though their first meeting was stiff and beyond tense, you couldn’t help the way your chest swelled at the accomplishment.

Beomgyu was polite, at least when he wanted to be. He stopped to hold the door for others, picked up a lost purse and returned it to its owner, and he carried your basket when it became too heavy. After a while he started accompanying you when you went out to deliver jams, and the faces of others as they opened the door soon grew from shock to recognition as Beomgyu slowly made his way back into society.

Still, you preferred to spend quiet and lazy days at his house. Away from everyone else, just the two of you, basked in a different kind of tranquility. Sharing soft kisses on the couch, long mornings in bed, reading out in the garden, and having tea in the kitchen. — It was a simple life, a life that had been right under your nose all along.

And the peaches soon bloomed, much to everyone’s surprise. The first ripe fruits, hanging off the tree, pink and plump. Beomgyu watches as you reach for one, plucking it from its branch as you turn it in your hands. — “Perfect, no?” You say as you let your fingers glide over the familiar fuzz covering the fruit.

Beomgyu hums as he, too, reaches for one. The shirt he wore rides up his stomach, exposing his flushed skin to you. But there were no bruises this time, they had faded months ago. And none of you questioned it, though you were certain you knew why. — Beomgyu brings the peach to his nose, inhaling its sweet scent as his eyes flutter. A small smile splayed across his face, that was also something different.

Your gaze lingers on his frame just a moment longer, fixated on the dark hair on top of his head. Only… It wasn’t dark, not anymore. — You reach up to card your hand through his soft locks, fingers catching one a strand by the very top. You run it between your thumb and index finger, its peachy color glowing under the sun.

To think that a little bit of love was all someone like him needed to bloom.

It was a funny thought indeed.

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thecordelialetters · 2 days ago

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The Art of Science

Viktor x artist!fem!reader

WC: 1.4k

An unlikely meeting of a lonely scientist and a student of the arts finding the beauty in themselves and each other.

Viktor never considered himself beautiful. His dimly lit room contained the basic human needs, a bed, a desk, and a sofa, all provided by the academy. There were no big mirrors besides the foggy one that sat above his bathroom sink. He barely glanced at it other than to fix his bedhead. The bags under his eyes and paling skin were hard to look at. Viktor believed in his work; he couldn't care less about vanity when he poured his energy into the lab daily. In the same way, he cared about his looks he gave the same effort into cultivating relationships. Like the mirror, Viktor didn't spare a glance at someone who wasn't interested in conversing about his projects or his vision for a better world. You were the complete opposite. You took life one step at a time, a personification of stopping to smell the roses come to life. As an artist, you look to beauty in the everyday. Perhaps it was fate your paths crossed, usually, you never dared enter the science wing of the academy but you had finished your painting early and wanted to go on a stroll to clear your mind. It was intimidating being around the brightest minds in Piltover. Most of them looked down on your profession. What was art compared to science? They'd mock you as you passed them, believing their work was revolutionary and way more important than a simple painting. It unnerved you but you'd never show it. A string of curses left Viktor's lips at another failed attempt at the Hexcore. Progress day was just a few weeks away and he had nothing to show for. As he hit his hand on the table in frustration, the vibration pushed the lab door open. The light from the small room shone on your face as you passed. Hearing a man's frustration you cautiously peaked your head through the door. You couldn't see exactly who was in the room but you could make out his back. The man was slender but had broader shoulders clad in a maroon button-up and white vest. His hair was a deep brown that flitted out over his ears. The room was messy, not as messy as your studio. You could see the genius behind the papers strewn over the desks and the many machines being worked on with the smell of oil in the air. Feeling the unusual sensation of being watched, Viktor turned his head to the side finding the door had been breached open. With a cramped hand, smeared graphite from all the writing he had been doing, he grabbed his cane and made his way to close the door. He pushed the opening gently finding the scene of you sitting on the floor, scribbling furiously in your notebook. His amber eyes drifted over your, messy locks tied in a ponytail, paired with gentle features that harmoniously made your face look perfect if it wasn't for the paint smudges on your cheek. He took a peak at your sketchbook finding familiar figures on the page of him in the lab. "What are you doing here little mouse?" He spoke in his soft accent. You stopped sketching and looked up, eyes widening at his presence. "I um...I was just passing by. I'm (y/n) part of the arts department." You looked down at your drawing, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught. The handsome inventor crouched in front of you to sit. He held out one hand, "May I see?" You nodded and pushed your book into his hands, eyes boring into his face. Even under the dimly lit hallway of the academy, he was much more attractive. The flicker from the bulbs danced on his high cheekbones and you swore you could see the specks of brown in his amber eyes. Viktor scanned the page in detail. It was fascinating how you were able to so accurately portray his figure and inventions. Every nutt and bolt and every curve of his body you conveyed beautifully. "This is amazing (y/n)." He gave you a small smile. You beamed shyly in response. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear you spoke up, "May I? Sit with you and draw you?" Albeit shocked at your request his eyes widened.

Frighted you might have scared him off you waved your hands, "If not its okay, I should be getting back anyways." You grabbed the book from his hand and shoved your supplies in your bag.

Before you could bolt away a firm grasp held onto your wrist. "You did not give me a chance to answer little mouse." He smiled gently looking down at you. "Come, sit next to me, I would love to be your muse." You smiled giddly and hopped up dashing into the lab. Viktor chuckled at your antics. He had not experienced meeting someone as sparkling as you. It was as if someone had collected a burst of a newborn star and embodied it into a girl. You carefully danced your way around the lab not wanting to knock anything over but also letting your curiosity draw you in. You turned to the sound of a chair scraping the floor. Viktor had sat down and began writing his research again. Dragging a chair next to him you position yourself at his side with enough space to give you the perfect angle of his face and upper body. The almost burnt-out candle on Viktor's desk cleared the way of the darkness while the two of you worked on your delicate craft in silence. The sounds of scratching pencils battled each other as your furious ideas filled the page. Feeling the way your eyes bore into his skin Viktor couldn't help but feel nervous. What if you actually wanted to leave and were staying here out of pity. Why would you want to stay anyways? He wasn't conversing with you nor was he doing anything worth viewing.

Unable to resist his interest any longer he turned to look at you. Your eyes met paired with the warmest smile he's received in a long time. Your smile made his heart flutter in a way that was concerning. Perhaps it was his condition acting up again. Silently you held up your notebook to his face. The breath in his lungs had dissipated. It was...stunning. Was that really him? The page contained 3 versions of himself. Every wrinkle on his face, the curve of his jaw, and even the bags under his eyes were present. Somehow you had made him look...decent, attractive even. "You flatter me too much little mouse, this looks far better than I do in person." You leaned forward pushing your book on the table. "No this is you. This is exactly what you look like." You brought up a slender finger and traced his features. "See this here? Is also here." One had felt his face the other pointed to different places in your picture. "You are beautiful Viktor." With a soft smile, the light flickered on your face showing the freckles that danced on your skin. "Well, thank you little mouse I like your drawings very much." You nodded and flipped the page to continue. The two of you worked in silence for hours. Neither of you spoke a word but the atmosphere felt like a home on a Christmas night. Quiet but comfortable, filled with some kind of magic. "I wish I had my watercolors." Viktor paused at your honey-smooth voice. "Why is that?" He questioned. His eyes fluttered back and forth over your figure. Fresh laundry, paint, and lavender filled his lungs as you let your hair down from your ponytail. "You have these gorgeous amber eyes that I just want to paint but I can't" You pout. Viktor laughed heartily at your confession. "Well, why don't you come tomorrow night. I will be here again and you can paint me." He took an insecure pause. "If you want of course." You nodded before looking at the time. "Oh my it's so late, I'm so sorry for keeping you. I should head back now." Viktor gently held your hand that laid on his shoulder.

"Do not worry, I was going to be here regardless. Actually, I would like to thank you, your presence was most enjoyable." You blushed and brushed a few locks of hair from Viktor's face. "Well, then I'm glad I could be of good company." Packing up your supplies you couldn't help but notice Viktor's disappointed face. With a smooth tear, you ripped the drawing from your sketchbook. Surprised he jumped up thinking you tore the picture.

"Here! Have it. It will be a promise I'll come tomorrow." Realizing you were giving the drawing to him, he gingerly held the drawing staring at the multitude of strokes that somehow compiled into his likeliness. He swore the room was growing warming, what else could excuse the heat filling his chest. "I'll hold you to that, little mouse."

Authors Note: This is currently unedited and a short but maybe Ill come back to it. I just got a burst of energy to write again.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #arcane #arcane s2 #league of legends #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you

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blog-o-meter · 2 days ago

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25 - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) decides to get her brother’s best friend’s attention and he’s more than willing to give it to her.

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, brother’s best friend!nicholas, dominant tease/bratty submissive, slow burn, forbidden romance??, implied age gap but not by much tbh it’s mostly just power dynamic

required listening: 25 by Veruca Salt

word count: 7,742

a/n: ik I try to wait a week between fics but I’m sawriiii I just loved this one too much to not post immediately. I do have another fic in the drafts but honestly I hate it now so I don’t think I’ll post that one. anyway im already planning on continuing this one YUPPPPP 🙂‍↕️ i just love listening to my playlist and writing xoxo lmk if you’re a veruca salt fan

reblogs, likes, and replies are greatly appreciated and let me know if you'd like to see more!

I never meant to eavesdrop on my brother’s conversations with him — Nicholas. Their voices, along with the sounds of Call of Duty blasting through the tv speakers, always managed to spill through the Jack and Jill bathroom that bridged our bedrooms. I would catch myself lingering by the bathroom door, my book or phone in hand as a cover, pretending I just happened to be nearby. My brother would crack some joke, and Nicholas’s laugh would come through low and warm, and my skin would prickle at the sound. Or sometimes I’d even hear the salacious stories of Nicholas and his fling of the week. Either way, I listened intently.

Nicholas and my brother have been best friends for years. He just showed up to the house one day and just kept coming back, like what happens whenever you find your best friend for life, like how I did. But my brother and I don’t run in the same circles, not really; he has his friends, and I have mine — and they never mixed, not even at our backyard cookouts where we’d each invite a friend or two. We always found ourselves at opposite corners of the house, and it was probably because they were a little older than us.

As a result, I never bothered, or was too nervous, to exchange more than a few words with Nicholas other than the occasional polite conversation, but he always managed to get under my skin either way. It was like he knew, somehow, like he could see right through me, past all my attempts at being casual or indifferent.

I couldn’t control the way my heart skipped a beat every time Nicholas’s eyes flicked over to me whenever I’d pass by them in the living room or as we passed around plates at the dinner table, especially not when I’d pass by him in the hallway and he’d flash me that all-too-famous smirk. I guess that’s why I eavesdropped on them; it was the only way I got to know him without having to say a word to him.

So, I didn’t know what was so different about that night that I just had to get Nicholas’s attention somehow, even if for just a second. I wasn’t sure if I would’ve bumped into him in the hallway, or even the bathroom, or not, but I still decided to slip into the skimpiest set of pajamas I had — a delicate pair of shorts that barely reached the back of my thighs and a camisole that clung to me like second skin. My mom had told me to never wear it whenever there were people over; it was “too revealing.”

“(Y/N)!” My brother’s voice traveled through the bathroom, shouting over his TV.

Hesitantly, I rolled out of my bed, my sock-covered feet quietly shuffling across the floor over to the bathroom. Before I reached the door to his room, I looked down at myself and suddenly grew shy. Maybe I was trying too hard. Would Nicholas notice? Second guessing my sudden boldness, I carefully hid half my body behind the door frame when I cracked open the door to his room.

My eyes flickered to Nicholas, who was perched on the edge of my brother’s bed, controller in hand, leaning forward slightly as he focused on the screen. He didn’t look over right away, but the second I peeked through the crack of the door, his gaze shifted back and forth between me and the TV, his thumbs hesitating on the controller.

“Yeah?” I asked quietly, trying to sound as casual as possible, one of my feet cricketing against the other.

My brother barely glanced at me, his eyes glued to the team deathmatch round they were playing. “Do we still have any snacks left in the pantry or did you finish them?”

I hesitated, feeling Nicholas’s eyes on me. His gaze lingered, scanning over what little of me was visible behind the door. His dark brown eyes were unreadable, but there was something in his expression, something curious, that made me feel both exposed and exhilarated.

“Yeah, there’s still some cookies and chips. I'm not a vacuum,” I said finally, my voice softer now and muttering the last part. I rested my cheek against the frame, my gaze flickering between Nicholas, the floor, and my brother.

“Could you bring us some?” My brother asked, his fingers violently attacking the buttons on the controller, the sounds of loud gunshots and footsteps responding to his every button mash. “We’re in the middle of a round.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice even. I pushed off the doorframe and stepped back into the bathroom, catching the way Nicholas’s gaze dropped briefly, taking in more of me now that I wasn’t partially hidden.

I ducked back into my room, the air feeling heavier as I padded toward the kitchen. My heart was racing, every nerve in my body alive with the lingering awareness of his gaze. It wasn’t just my brother’s casual request that stuck with me, but the way Nicholas had looked at me — like I wasn’t just his friend’s little sister sneaking glances from behind doors.

In the kitchen, I opened the pantry and pulled out the cookies and chips, my nerves bubbling as I anticipated the moment I’d walk into my brother’s room wearing this outfit. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected — maybe a quick glance and nothing more, but the idea was scintillating either way.

My mom strutted into the kitchen then, still in her work clothes. “I thought I told you not to wear that when people were over,” she smirked knowingly. I had a little bit of a tendency to defy orders.

I glanced over my shoulder, feigning innocence. “It’s hot out,” I shrugged my shoulders as I closed the pantry and scampered past her with snacks in tow.

I returned to my brother’s room with the snacks in hand, pausing at the cracked bathroom door before taking a breath and sheepishly walking in. I stepped fully into the room, my bare legs feeling more exposed than they ever had before. “Here,” I called, keeping my tone neutral, like nothing about this moment felt significant, even though my pulse told a different story.

My brother barely spared me a glance as I set the snacks down in front of them, his attention glued to the screen. Nicholas, on the other hand, wasn’t as discreet. He leaned back slightly, one arm draped over his knee as he finally looked up from the game. His dark brown eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, lingering just long enough to make me feel like every inch of my skin was on display under his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t smirk or tease the way he usually did. My cheeks burned as I shifted on my feet, my fingers brushing against the hem of my shorts, unsure what to do with myself.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Nicholas said finally, his voice cutting through the tension. It was smooth, casual.

I smiled softly, more out of nerves than anything else, and started to retreat toward the door. “Don’t get used to it,” I mumbled, glancing over my shoulder. I cast one last glance at Nicholas. He was still watching me, his head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was suppressing a smirk. It was like he knew exactly what I was doing.

Now, I don’t know why I did it, maybe because I was so flustered that I didn’t notice or maybe I subconsciously knew what I was doing, but I left my bathroom door open just a smidge, enough for the soft light of my room to spill out and shine through the darkness of the bathroom, like a beacon in the night begging to be followed. Maybe it was a dare, or maybe I was just curious to see if he’d take the bait.

I threw myself onto my bed, stomach down, trying to calm my ever-racing heart as I replayed the moment Nicholas’s gaze lingered on me. I couldn’t bite back the smile forming on my lips as I pictured the look in his eye when I walked into the room. It sent a thrill through me. Did I finally manage to pique his interest as much as he piqued mine?

My heartbeat was unrelenting, so I reached for the book on my nightstand, hoping that reading a few pages might calm me. Of course, though, I wasn’t focusing on the pages. How could I? When my older brother’s hot best friend was right on the other side of that door?

Eventually, the sound of video games and laughter died down as the minutes ticked into the late night, replaced by muffled conversation before trailing off into complete silence. The only sound I could hear, now, was the occasional turn of the page and my thumping heartbeat, maybe the imperceptible hum of the lightbulb coming from my bedside lamp.

And on the other side, Nicholas could also hear the faint scratch of a page turning, too. He was lying down in his makeshift bed of blankets on the floor, quietly scrolling on his phone. The screen of his phone cast a faint glow on his face, but his attention wasn’t on the timeline of tweets he had planned on reading through. It was on that tiny crack of light spilling into the dark bathroom, the faintest view of my room on the other side.

He couldn’t sleep. How could he? The tight, little number I was bold enough to wear but still shy enough to hide behind the door frame, the way I glanced at him when I passed through to give them snacks, the subtle sway of my hips as I disappeared back into the bathroom to my room as if I hadn’t worn that number on purpose. And now, the crack in my door was basically daring him to walk through.

I didn’t know it, but it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed me. He always looked forward to seeing me scamper through the kitchen as quickly as possible whenever they took it over for whatever they were doing, and he was always equally curious about what would happen behind my door, especially when he could hear me laughing with my friends or my CD player blasting Veruca Salt.

His friend — my brother — was out cold, snoring like a chainsaw. Nicholas glanced at him, then back at the door, then back at him, then back at the door. It was a bad idea; he knew it. I was off-limits. My brother hadn’t told him that explicitly, but he did express his distaste when Nicholas made an off-handed comment about me some a couple years ago and that was enough to deter him. But tonight, my brother was asleep, while Nicholas and I were still awake.

Nicholas turned his phone off then, quietly pulling the blanket off himself and standing up, padding quietly to the bathroom and closing the door to my brother’s room behind him. He tiptoed toward my door, taking a peek through the crack and hoping that maybe just indulging himself in the image of me would satiate him. But the moment he saw me on my bed — twiddling with the end of a braid or two or many as I laid on my stomach, propped up on my elbows as I read, my legs crossed at the ankles, the pajamas I wore barely covering anything — he knew just looking wouldn’t be enough.

My heart raced when I heard the faint creak of my door, but I didn’t look up right away, choosing to pretend I was so engrossed in my book that I couldn’t be bothered to see what had made the noise. What did make me glance over my shoulder, though, was the light clinking of glass.

I turned my head and saw Nicholas leaning against the doorframe curiously inspecting a nail polish I had left on the dresser that was near the bathroom door, a smirk on his face. That set my heart racing.

“Nicholas,” I spoke quietly as I closed the book in my hands, watching him as he continued to fiddle with the things on my dresser — nail polishes, bracelets, a hairbrush.

Nicholas didn’t say anything at first, just let his dark brown eyes sweep across my dresser one last time before they swept across my room, then finally landed on me and took in the scene — the book in my hands, the way I was sprawled across the bed, the faint flush on my cheeks that I couldn’t seem to shake.

He glanced over his shoulder back toward my brother’s bathroom door, still closed, before looking back at me. “Are you usually up this late?” he said finally, his voice low, like he was afraid of breaking the stillness of the moment.

I turned onto my side, giving him a better view of me in my pajamas. His gaze lingered on my torso, and I bit back a smile. “Sometimes.”

He dropped his arms and stepped in, his movements unhurried as he quietly closed the door behind him and looked around my room. I couldn’t believe it. He was in my room.

“Your brother’s out cold,” he said, almost like an explanation, as if I didn’t already know. He turned his head to look at the Heart poster on my wall, arching his back to stretch, his shirt riding up a little to show off the happy trail adorning his lower abdomen. I just about choked at the sight.

When he looked back at me, he had that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You left your door open.”

“Did I?” I asked quietly, lying back down on my stomach but looking at him over my shoulder.

His smirk deepened, like he didn’t believe me for a second. “Didn’t you?”

My stomach flipped, the challenge in his tone making it impossible to look away, but I had to if I didn’t want him to see the heat rising to my cheeks. So I turned my attention back to my book but the words blurred together. I couldn’t focus, not at all. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

He stepped further into the room until he was at the edge of my bed looking down at me, still smirking. “You don’t sound very convincing.”

I shrugged, letting my fingers trail along the edge of the pages. I decided to give him an out, something that would test his resolve. “My brother’s gonna kill you if he finds out.”

He hesitated, just for a moment, before sitting down next to me. The mattress dipped under his weight, and I shifted slightly to face him. “I know,” he whispered as his eyes trailed my bare legs.

He slowly laid down on his side beside me, and it all started with a touch — his hand reaching out to rest on my thigh, his palm hot against my skin. My breath hitched, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let my leg drift closer toward him, the faintest encouragement.

“I should go,” he murmured softly, his fingers brushing up and stopping just short at the hem of my shorts. His eyes flicked up to mine, gazing at me through his abundance of eyelashes.

I couldn’t look away from his dark brown eyes, the way they softened as they met mine, yet held something deeper — something that made my pulse race. I was quiet for a moment, savoring the heat of his hand on my hand, the warmth spreading all over my body. “Yeah, you should,” I whispered, my voice lacking any real conviction.

Neither of us moved.

Nicholas’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just watched me, his gaze flicking to my lips, then back to my eyes. His hand inched higher, stopping just at the edge of my shorts again, as if he were waiting for a signal. And I gave him it, letting my book fall through my fingers and shifting closer toward him.

That was all it took. He leaned in, his hand sliding up my thigh as his lips captured mine in a kiss that stole the air from my lungs. It was slow at first, like he was testing the waters, but it didn’t take long for the tension between us to boil over. Quickly, the kiss deepened. His hands roamed, pulling me closer as I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his hair.

“Tell me to go,” he murmured against my lips, his breath warm on my skin.

I tugged him closer, “Stay.”

Nicholas’s weight pressed into the mattress as he rolled me over, his hands sliding along the curve of my waist and down to my hips as our legs tangled together. My fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer as the world outside my room melted away. Every shift of his body against mine, every brush of his fingertips against bare skin, ignited a fire I couldn’t ignore.

His lips trailed down to my jaw, slow and deliberate, sending a wave of heat rushing through me. His breath was warm against my neck, and I arched into him instinctively, feeling his body tense in response.

I tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he obliged, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. My eyes traced the lines of his shoulders, the way his muscles moved as he leaned back down, his delicate chain dangling over me, his hands framing my face like he needed to commit every detail to memory. My own hands wandered, exploring the warmth of his skin, the tension in his back as he pressed closer.

The cool air hit my skin as he slid the strap of my camisole off my shoulder, his lips replacing it with a trail of soft, heated kisses that moved to my collarbone. My heart raced as I looked up at the ceiling of my room, every sense heightened as his hands roamed lower, his touch firm but unhurried.

My breath caught in my throat as Nicholas’s lips continued their slow descent, every kiss igniting sparks along my skin. My hands moved of their own accord, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as I arched into his touch. His hand slid under the hem of my camisole, his fingers splaying over my ribs as he paused to look at me, his dark brown eyes asking the silent question.

I nodded, and his lips were back on mine in an instant, the kiss growing more intense, as he bunched the fabric in his palm and pulled it off of me, leaving me bare-chested. He pulled back and drank the sight of me in, his jaw going tight as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against mine.

For a moment, I grew self-conscious, thinking maybe he would pull away completely now that he’s seen me half-naked. Maybe I didn’t measure up to the girls he’s been with. “Is something wrong?” I quietly asked.

Nicholas shook his head almost immediately, his forehead still resting against mine as he let out a shaky breath. His hands moved to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks as his dark brown eyes opened to meet mine. They were softer now, but no less intense.

“No, fuck no,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, like he was trying to find the right words and failing. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brown eyes locking onto mine. “You’re perfect, (Y/N). That’s the problem.”

The raw honesty in his tone made my breath hitch, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I swallowed hard, my gaze dropping for a moment before flicking back up to him. “Then why did you—?”

“I needed a second,” he interrupted softly, his voice almost strained as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin. “You’re just—you’re making it really hard to be the good guy here.”

His words sent a rush of heat through me, my heart pounding in my chest as I searched his face. “I’m not asking you to be the good guy,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

“You sure?” he murmured against my lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because if we do this, there’s no going back. Your brother’s gonna kill me if he finds out, and I don’t—” He broke off, his jaw tightening as he pulled back to look at me again. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

I reached up to frame his face, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as I held his gaze. “I want this, Nic,” I said softly, my voice steady now despite the chaos in my chest.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to figure out if I really meant it. Then, with a quiet curse, he groaned quietly, like he was fighting an internal battle, before he leaned down to kiss me again. This time, it wasn’t tentative or testing — it was all-consuming.

I gasped softly into the kiss, my hands gripping his shoulders as he pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine with a heat that made it impossible to think straight. His hands slid down my sides, his touch rougher now, less restrained, like he was done holding himself back.

Nicholas’s lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and I couldn’t bite back the quiet moan that escaped me. He groaned in response, his fingers gripping my hips tightly as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Jesus, baby, you’re gonna wake the whole house,” he muttered, his voice rough and muffled against my skin.

I let out a breathless laugh, tugging on his hair to make him look at me. “You’re the one talking so much,” I shot back, my voice barely above a whisper.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in annoyance. “Oh, is that right?” he said, his tone low and dangerous as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’re the one moaning like you don’t give a shit if your brother hears us.”

My cheeks burned, and I glared at him, my hand smacking lightly against his chest. “You’re an asshole,” I muttered, but the smirk at the end of my lips betrayed any conviction I’d intended to convey.

Nicholas caught my wrist gently, grinning and clearly pleased with himself, and pinned it against the pillows above my head, “And you’re a fucking tease,” he whispered, a teasing glint in his eyes. He planted a wet kiss on my lips, murmuring, “Okay, we both stay quiet then, deal?”

I bit my lip, narrowing my eyes at him, the corner of my mouth twitching with a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Fine,” I whispered, my voice barely audible but dripping with playful defiance.

Nicholas’s grin deepened, and he leaned down, brushing his nose against my own before pulling back completely and resting back on his heels as his fingers trailed down to the waistband of my shorts. His fingers lingered, his touch light but deliberate as his dark brown eyes locked onto mine. His teasing smirk faltered, replaced by something softer, something that made my heart pound harder than I thought possible. He hesitated for just a second, like he needed one last confirmation, and I gave him a small nod, my breath catching in my throat as I lifted my hips slightly.

He exhaled softly, almost like he was steadying himself, before he slid my shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, leaving me completely bare beneath him. The air felt cool against my skin, and I had to fight the instinct to cover myself. Instead, I forced myself to hold his gaze, my cheeks flushed and my heart racing.

Nicholas’s eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, like he was committing every detail to memory. He let out a quiet curse, his jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he leaned down to rest his forehead on my stomach and leaving lingering kisses near my navel.

My fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as I looked down at him. He rested there for a moment, his breath warm against my skin as he closed his eyes, like he needed a second to process everything.

I let out a soft laugh, the sound trembling slightly as I tugged gently on his hair. “You’re so dramatic,” I teased, my voice light but full of warmth. “Are you sure you’ve seen a girl naked before?”

He shot his head up, his eyebrows flared in surprise, and for a split second, I thought I might’ve caught him off guard. But then his smirk returned, sharper now, and he grabbed both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head as he shifted to cover me completely. “Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that,” he growled playfully, his voice dropping an octave as his free hand skimmed down my side, his touch light but promising.

I squirmed under him, trying to hide the way his teasing touch was already getting to me. I don’t know what it was about Nicholas that brought out this side of me — teasing, defiant — but I loved it.

“You’re such a—” My words cut off in a gasp as he pressed his hips against mine, the sudden pressure of his sweatpants against my bare self making me lose my train of thought completely.

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “What was that, baby?” he murmured, his tone smug. “You were saying something?”

I glared at him, my cheeks burning, and wriggled my wrists under his palm, “Nic, the longer you’re not inside me, the more time you’re giving my brother to wake up.”

Nicholas froze, his dark eyes widening for just a second before narrowing into something almost predatory. The smirk tugging at the corner of his lips turned wicked, and his grip on my wrists tightened slightly as he pressed his forehead against mine. But then, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Fine,” he murmured, his tone dropping even lower, sending a shiver down my spine.

He released my wrists, and I immediately brought my hands to his chest, letting my fingers trail over the defined muscles before sliding them down toward the waistband of his sweatpants. My heart raced, my cheeks burning as I hooked my fingers under the fabric.

Nicholas shifted slightly, propping himself on his elbows as he watched me, his dark eyes hooded with intensity. The faint smirk tugging at his lips remained as I hesitated for a moment, my fingers gripping the waistband of his sweatpants. I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and steady, as if he were daring me to go further.

Slowly, deliberately, I tugged the fabric down his hips, the soft material sliding against his skin. His muscles tensed slightly beneath my touch, and I couldn’t help the way my breath hitched as his length slipped out — ready and aching. The tension between us was palpable, the room heavy with anticipation as I pushed his sweatpants lower until they pooled around his knees.

Nicholas’s hands found my hips, his grip firm but not rough as he leaned down to kiss me again, his lips capturing mine in a way that made me forget everything else. His body pressed against mine, the heat of his skin sending a rush of warmth through me as his hands trailed up my sides, fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath my ribs.

For a moment, we just stayed like that, our breaths mingling as we stared at each other, the unspoken tension between us reaching its peak. Nicholas’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes searching mine as if he were asking for permission one last time.

I didn’t bother nodding. Instead, I reached to wrap my hand around his length and guide him in, to which Nicholas responded by burying his head in the crook of my neck and muttering a quiet, “Fuck,” before reaching to replace my hand with his own. “You’re so wet already.”

The air seemed to still, the only sound in the room being the soft rustle of sheets and our breathing — ragged, uneven. Nicholas moved slowly at first, his grip on my hips tightening as he inserted himself into me. I let out a whimper as I felt every inch of him, the way he stretched and filled me, his warmth burning into me like a fire I never wanted to put out.

My hand found its way to his back, my nails digging lightly into his skin as I arched beneath him, a quiet gasp slipping past my lips. “Nic…” His name came out in a breathy whisper, and the sound of it seemed to spur him on. His hips moved, deliberate and measured, and every movement sent shockwaves through me.

“Baby,” he murmured into my neck, his voice strained and breathless. “You feel so fucking good.”

The heat pooling in my stomach grew with every roll of his hips, my body responding to him in a way that felt instinctual, like I had been waiting for this moment all along. His hand slid down to grip my thigh, pulling it higher around his waist as he angled himself deeper, drawing a sharp cry from me that I quickly muffled with my free hand.

“Shh,” he teased softly, his lips brushing against my ear as he chuckled, though his voice was tight with restraint. His breath was warm against my skin as he added, “You don’t want your brother barging in, do you?”

I shot him a glare through my haze of pleasure, but it was useless. Nicholas was in control now, and he knew it. The rhythm of his hips changed, slower but impossibly deeper, making it even harder to stay quiet. I bit down on my lip, my hand reaching to clutch at the sheets as waves of heat rolled through me with every deliberate thrust.

Nicholas shifted slightly, his lips brushing over my jawline before capturing my lips again in a kiss that was just as demanding as the way his body moved against mine. His free hand trailed up my side, his thumb grazing over the sensitive skin just below my ribs, making me shiver beneath him. His hand trailed further down, pressing down on my lower abdomen as if he could feel himself moving inside.

The added pressure made me gasp, my head tilting back as pleasure rippled through me, sharp and consuming, and quickly I covered my mouth again. Nicholas groaned in response, the sound low and guttural, and I realized just how loud he was getting. My heart raced, panic and desire tangling together as I reached up and pressed my other hand over his mouth, muffling the next moan that slipped from his lips.

His dark eyes widened in surprise for a split second before narrowing, a flicker of something mischievous and dangerous sparking there. His hips slowed, the deliberate roll of his body against mine making my own breathing hitch. He didn’t protest my hand, though — instead, he leaned into it, his tongue flicking out to trace along my palm teasingly, his eyes locked onto mine as if daring me to keep him quiet.

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was useless. Every movement of his hips, every flick of his tongue against my skin, was breaking me down piece by piece. He shifted slightly, angling deeper, and I bit down hard on my lip to stop the moan that threatened to escape.

I peeled the hand I had over my mouth, “Nic,” I hissed under my breath, my voice shaking as I glared at him. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned against my hand, his dark eyes hooded and filled with heat as his hips rolled again, drawing another muffled gasp from me. His free hand slid up my thigh, gripping firmly before pulling my leg higher around his waist, allowing him to press even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and my fingers flexed against his face as I tried to stifle my own sounds.

Nicholas groaned again, louder this time, and I pressed my hand harder against his mouth, shooting him a warning look. “Shh,” I whispered harshly, my voice trembling as I struggled to keep my own composure.

He nodded slightly, his lips brushing against my palm in silent agreement, but the way his hips moved told me he had no intention of slowing down. If anything, his pace quickened, each thrust more precise, more deliberate, as if he were testing just how far he could push me before I completely unraveled.

My hand stayed over his mouth, but I could feel the vibrations of his muffled groans against my skin, each one sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me. My free hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging into his skin as my body arched beneath him, helpless to the rhythm he’d set.

The tension between us was unbearable, every movement, every touch pushing me closer to the edge. My heart pounded in my chest, my breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as I fought to stay quiet, to stay in control. But Nicholas wasn’t making it easy. The hand he was using to press down on my lower abdomen slipped between us, his fingers brushing against the sensitive spot where our bodies met, and I couldn’t stop the sharp cry that escaped me.

His eyes flicked up to mine, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as they remained muffled against my hand. He pressed his fingers harder, circling with just enough pressure to send me spiraling. My body tensed, every nerve ending on fire as pleasure crashed over me in waves, and I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. That’s when he let go of the thigh he had wrapped around his waist and guided his hand over my mouth, pressing down to muffle my sounds.

And now, we were both there, covering the other’s mouth with our hands, trying so hard to fight back our moans. All we could hear was the sounds of skin and our labored breaths blowing through our nostrils.

The room was thick with tension, every sound amplified as we moved together, muffling each other as if the act itself were part of the thrill. Nicholas’s hand covered my mouth firmly, his dark eyes locking onto mine as his hips drove deeper, more deliberate. Each thrust sent waves of heat rippling through me, my body trembling as I teetered on the edge of control.

My breaths were shallow, uneven, my free hand clutching at his shoulder as the tension in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. His other hand slid down my thigh, pulling my leg higher around his waist to angle himself deeper, and the sensation was overwhelming. My head tilted back, the cry building in my throat muffled against his palm.

I was close — so close it felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. Nicholas must have sensed it because his pace quickened, his movements more erratic as he chased the edge with me. His lips curved into a smirk against my hand, but the dark intensity in his gaze told me he was just as affected.

When the tension snapped, it was like a dam breaking. My thighs trembled around him, my breaths coming out in sharp, uneven bursts, as I arched beneath him, a wave of pleasure crashing over me so powerful it left me shaking. Nicholas’s hand pressed tighter against my mouth, muffling the sharp cry that escaped me as I clung to him, my nails digging into his back. He groaned in response, his movements faltering as he watched me fall apart beneath him, my hand covering his mouth falling limp over my forehead.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. His hand stayed firmly over my mouth, his other sliding down to hold my hip as his pace grew erratic, desperate.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I realized he was close too. His movements grew rougher, his control unraveling as his own breathing turned ragged. The hand covering my mouth loosened slightly, and I took the opportunity to nip at his finger, earning a low growl from him as he pulled it away.

Nicholas’s eyes snapped to mine, wide with surprise. “What the hell—” he started, but I cut him off with a fierce whisper.

“You better pull out,” I hissed, my voice sharp despite the trembling in my tone.

Nicholas’s jaw tightened as my words registered, his dark eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and urgency. His breath hitched, and I could feel the tension radiating off him as he fought for control, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. “I’ve got it,” he muttered, his voice strained and low, almost as if he were trying to reassure himself as much as me.

“Nic,” I pressed, my tone firm despite the lingering haze of pleasure coursing through me. My nails raked lightly down his back, urging him to listen, to not lose himself completely.

He nodded, his movements becoming deliberate, careful. His hand shifted to grip my waist tightly, steadying himself as his breathing grew heavier. “I’m not gonna—” His words cut off with a guttural groan, and I felt his body tremble against mine, his restraint fraying with each passing second.

At the last possible moment, Nicholas pulled out with a strangled curse, his hand reaching down to finish himself. His dark eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenched as his release spilled across my stomach, warm and lingering. The sight of him unraveling like that, the raw vulnerability etched into his features, made my chest tighten.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was our heavy breathing, his body still hovering above mine as he tried to catch his breath. His head dipped forward, his lips brushing softly against my temple as he whispered, “Are you okay?”

I nodded, my voice catching slightly as I answered, “Yeah, I’m okay.” My hands found his shoulders, grounding both of us as he shifted to sit back on his heels. His gaze softened as it roamed over me, searching for any sign of discomfort or regret.

“I didn’t—” he started, his voice hoarse and unsteady, but I cut him off with a small smile.

“You didn’t,” I reassured him, reaching up to trace the edge of his jaw.

Nicholas exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips. It wasn’t rushed or heated like before; it was gentle, filled with a quiet kind of affection that made my heart ache. When he pulled back, his fingers brushed lightly across my stomach, his touch careful and almost apologetic.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmured, his voice soft as he reached over to grab a discarded shirt, maybe mine, from the edge of the bed.

I rolled my eyes, my lips twitching in amusement as I watched him carefully clean me up, his movements surprisingly gentle despite the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips. When he was done, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my stomach, his lips lingering for just a moment before lying down beside me, pulling me into his arms without hesitation. His body was warm and solid against mine, his breathing still slightly uneven as his fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder.

The silence that followed was thick but not uncomfortable. Nicholas’s fingers moved gently across my skin, as if he were trying to map every inch of me. My cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat steady and grounding beneath my ear. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, even as a thousand unspoken thoughts swirled between us.

It felt natural, lying there with him. His hand slipped to my hair, tangling in the strands softly, and I let out a contented sigh. Neither of us said anything for a long time, the stillness interrupted only by the sound of our breaths syncing together.

Nicholas was the one to break the silence, his voice low and husky. “What time is it?”

I blinked, my mind still clouded from everything that had just happened. I tilted my head toward my bedside table, squinting at the digital clock. “Almost three,” I mumbled.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face while tightening the arm he had around me briefly before letting out a resigned sigh. “Your brother’s gonna wake up in a few hours.”

“Exactly,” I muttered, untangling myself from his arms and sitting up, “which is why you need to get out of here.”

Nicholas smirked as he sat up as well, his dark brown eyes watching me closely. “Kicking me out already?” he teased, his voice low and playful. “I’m starting to feel used, baby.”

I rolled my eyes, climbing out of bed and walking past my dirty camisole that was discarded on the floor to reach into my dresser and pull out a clean shirt, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“You’re the one that asked me to stay,” he quipped, leaning back on his hands as if he had all the time in the world.

I shot him a warning look, but it only seemed to amuse him further. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I grabbed my shorts from the floor as I walked back over to the bed and tossed them in his direction. “If you’re so eager to hang around, you can help me get dressed. I think that’s the least you can do after fucking your best friend’s sister.”

Nicholas froze for a moment, his smirk faltering as his dark eyes widened slightly at my words. A laugh escaped him, low and incredulous, as he shook his head. “Wow, you really don’t hold back, do you?”

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Am I wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed my shorts from where they landed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he beckoned me closer with a playful glint in his eyes. “Alright, princess. Let me help.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I stepped closer, though the flush creeping up my neck betrayed my nonchalance. Nicholas patted his thigh, gesturing for me to stand between his legs. His hands were warm as they slid up my calves to my thighs, holding me steady as he crouched slightly to help me into the shorts.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as he guided the fabric up my legs. He tugged the waistband gently, his thumbs brushing against my hips before snapping the shorts into place. His dark eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a moment, the teasing glint softened into something quieter, something that made my heart stutter.

I reached for the clean shirt I’d left on the bed, but Nicholas beat me to it, picking it up with a smirk. “Arms up,” he instructed, his tone mockingly authoritative as he held the shirt open.

Rolling my eyes but unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips, I raised my arms, letting him slip the shirt over my head. His hands brushed against my skin as he adjusted the hem, smoothing it down over my waist. When he leaned back on his hands to admire his handiwork, his smirk returned, but it was softer now.

“There,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Good as new.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, my stomach fluttering. I bent down and reached for Nicholas’s clothes and tossed them to him.

Nicholas caught the bundle of his clothes easily, the smirk on his face growing as he stood to pull his sweatpants back on. I watched as he stuffed his dick into his sweats, my cheeks growing hot as he then slipped into his shirt. The chain around his neck glinted faintly in the dim light as he adjusted it, his dark eyes flicking back to mine.

Nicholas smiled softly, running a hand through his tousled hair as he stepped toward the bathroom door.

I followed him as he reached for the door, keeping my voice low. “Please don’t tell anyone about tonight.”

He turned to face me, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe as his smirk softened into something more genuine. “Relax, baby. Your secret’s safe with me.” The teasing lilt in his voice was gone, replaced by a quiet sincerity that made my chest tighten.

I nodded, swallowing hard as I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. “Good.”

He pushed the door open slowly, peeking into the bathroom to make sure it was still quiet on the other side. Just as he stepped through, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk returning in full force. He winked, disappearing into the bathroom with a quiet click of the door.

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door as the reality of everything that had just happened settled over me.

My skin still tingled everywhere he’d touched me, his hands, his lips, the way his voice had dropped when he whispered my name. It all replayed in my head, over and over and over. With a deep breath, I turned back to my bed, doing a horrible job of biting back the smirk on my lips.

I should’ve been panicking — thinking about what my brother would do if he found out, but all I could feel was a heady mix of excitement and disbelief. I had just slept with Nicholas, my brother’s best friend.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x fem!reader #nicholas alexander chavez rpf #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez fanfic #nicholas alexander chavez fic #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez x fem!reader #fic-o-meter

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captain-huggy-bear · 2 days ago

Text

Scratchy

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, smut - lil' spicy, lil' racy, lil' bit of Lottie is feeling touch starved and it shows 😅 Not for the kiddos at all! Get off my lawn!

Summary: Quinn will do most things to make you laugh, his favourite thing about growing out his beard is the fact that it's a weapon of mass destruction when breaking that laugh out of you. It also makes you a little weak at the knees and hot behind the collar too which is a bonus.

Notes: I haven't kissed someone in 3 years, okay? I miss the scratch of a beard and Quinn has such a good beard at the moment, leave me alone! Don't judge me, just enjoy the fruits of my imagination.

Also Merry Xmas/Happy Holidays for tomorrow, this is my present to you all :) xx

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a still sort of evening, the sort of dim, cozy quiet that only ever seems to happen when the night is dark, and you've made your way back to Quinn's apartment after a date to the silence of his apartment.

The lights are low, but warm because Quinn had changed all the bulbs to a soft amber after you expressed how much you missed the warm glow of the old street lights from your childhood. You're curled up underneath Quinn's arm on his white sofa, both of you pretending you're watching Home Alone but really it's just white noise as the two of you cuddle up together. The TV taking a background role to the two of you, the main actors in this play.

Technically, you should consider getting your shoes on, grabbing your jacket and going back to your apartment, the clock ticking closer and closer to 11pm, but you both know that's not going to happen. It's a Saturday and Sunday means no work for you, Quinn has a bit of a gap before he has another game, and there's absolutely zero urgency or desire from you to leave the spot you're in. You've never been more comfortable.

Every date night goes the same way. Quinn picks you up from your apartment, bringing flowers to the door and wowing over your outfit. Looking at you like it's the first time as he calls you beautiful or pretty or any other compliment he can think of, before taking you to dinner somewhere the two of you have been wanting to try. Dinner is always fun, the two of you bantering back and forth, feet hooking together under the table, and hands twisted together on the tablecloth whenever you're not eating. Then Quinn always asks if you want to come back to his for a movie, every single time you say yes as he helps you into your coat and into his car. Like clockwork you always end up curled up together on the sofa, something playing in the background that neither of you are really paying attention to and like always you end up staying the night, the spare toothbrush now not spare, but yours, and a couple of drawers holding your essentials for the inevitable sleepover. Sometimes Quinn jokes that you might as well move in, except it's not really a joke and you both know that the minute your lease is up you'll do just that.

Quinn's cheek is pressed into the crown of your head as you lay back together across the sofa, your legs are tangled like tree roots, one of his hands resting on your thigh that's slung over his lap, the other wrapped around your shoulders, fingers brushing soothing circles into your upper arm. Your eyes feel heavy in that soft, comfortable sort of way, not sleepy but relaxed as you lean into the crook of his neck, pressing the odd kiss to his shoulder every so often - lazy, content, sweet.

He loves moments like this, where he's not captain, just Quinn, just your boyfriend. Where he can watch the way your shoulders relax around him, feel the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips, the press of your lips to his shoulder. It's that sort of slow intimacy that has him tilting your head towards him, hand cupping your cheek as you rearrange yourselves to face each other.

"You're so pretty, baby..." It's a mumble, soft and sweet, his bottom lip poking out just ahead of his top. You're tempted to catch it between your own but don't get a chance before he's pressing his lips to your forehead, dragging them down across your temple and cheek.

The scratch of his beard tickles slightly and it has you twitching and pursing your lips to contain a giggle. That little shake of your shoulders as you try to hide it has Quinn stopping just shy of your lips, hovering in place with that delectable smirk of his that he gets from time to time (but not often enough).

"Does my beard scratch, baby?"

"Nooo..." You deny it even as he teasingly brushes his cheek against yours, purposefully brushing the bristles of his beard against your skin until you squirm in his lap, twisting yourself up and above him to avoid it. Your hands planted firmly on his chest as if that will keep him away from you and keep your skin free of beard burn. As if you're strong enough to stop him if he truly wants something.

It's not a sensation you actually dislike despite the way you scurry out of his reach, in fact, he knows you love when he grows out his beard. The scratch of it always sends little shivers down your spine, but it sets your nerve endings off in a way that always makes you giggle like a little kid. It's cute, has been since the first time he kissed you and you pulled away laughing in such an endearing way he couldn't even be offended.

Quinn doesn't let you scurry away for long, flipping the two of you until you're on your back underneath him, he shifts a pillow under your neck as he does so. A small gesture but one that speaks volumes about his priority of making sure you're always comfortable. His hands bracket your head, nose brushing against yours as he stares down at you under his lashes, big eyes softening at the corners. He's so beautiful that you think you might combust in that moment, having all his attention on you like that makes you squirm.

"You're such a liar. This doesn't scratch? At all?" He doesn't give you much time to answer. Long fingers and wide palm of his hand gently encircling your neck, thumb hitting just underneath your jaw, holding you in place as he scrapes his face against yours roughly, the scratch of his beard across your cheek forcing a giggle from your throat that has him stopping briefly just to savour it. It's one of his favourite sounds.

The reprieve doesn't last long, Quinn moves, rubbing his cheek down from your own to the sensitive skin of your neck. Your legs kicking out at the sensation, fingers grasping the back of his shirt as you laugh harder, despite all protests you lean your head away to give him more room.

"Oh, yeah, this totally doesn't scratch! Not a tickle, huh? Such a liar, pretty girl." He rubs his beard across your neck and shoulder, the sensation has your toes curling, a hand sliding up his neck and into his hair, fingers gripping tight to silky brunet strands.

"Quinn!" You laugh it out, but there's a hint of desire riding your tone, eyelids fluttering closed. The scratch of his beard, one of your guilty pleasures, a secret you think you have kept well, but that Quinn knows all about. Has ever since the first time he shaved and your eyes held nothing but disappointment that you tried your best to hide, same way he knows you love when he keeps his hair a little longer. You're terrible at poker.

"Nuh, this is your punishment for lying to me!" He stops briefly to press a kiss into the underside of your jaw, even then his beard scratches as he does it, an inescapable sensation that has your fingers tightening in his hair, "Not really a punishment though is it, baby?"

"Shut up..." You mumble it out, embarrassment riding your tone even as your toes curl and your back arches into him, a leg rising to wrap around his and pull him closer.

"Oh, what? Cause you're embarrassed? My pretty girl's embarrassed that she likes my beard?" He brushes his cheek back against yours again for emphasis, nose trailing across your cheek.

"Quuiiinnnn..."It's an embarrassed sort of whine you let out as you turn your head into the pillow behind you, cheeks warm as a squirm out of embarrassment and something like desire winds its way to your stomach.

His fingers grip your jaw, turning your face back towards him, not allowing you more than a moment to hide away from him. Quinn's lips find their way to yours, open mouthed and soft as he captures your bottom lip between his. He lowers himself down to you, body squishing yours into the sofa, hips rocking against yours in a targeted fashion. You pull at his hair as you writhe beneath him, legs trying to pull him closer, a sigh breathed against his mouth like a prayer.

"You were saying?"

"Shut up..." It's an absent sort of mumble, unable to really think of anything else to say when he's this close to you, this warm, when all you really want is for him to kiss you again.

"Is that the only thing your pretty little head can come up with right now?" He's being mean as he squishes your cheeks together, lips a breath from yours as he mimicks you, "'Quinn!' 'Shut up!'"

"You're being mean..." You pout even as the familiar burning twisting sensation stirs in your gut, even as you struggle not to wiggle your hips against him and pull him in for a kiss.

"I guess I should get off you then, since I'm so mean?" He starts to move away, your head shaking vehemently no at the illusion of distance, "Oh, no? Thought I was mean?" Quinn attempts to push off and move away from you, arms defined and strong, straightened up next your head as he pretends to pull off you.

"Stay, please?" Your legs lock around him like a vice as he attempts to back up and put distance between you under the pretence of leaving, teasing you even as he has absolutely no intention of actually going anywhere.

"Is that all you want, sweet girl? Just me to stay right," he punctuates the end of his sentence with a roll of his hips back between yours "here?" He's rock hard against you, but he doesn't really care, this isn't really about him, it's about you and all he wants is to get you off. He could care less if he cums tonight. Not when you're whining into his neck and looking up at him like you might cry if he pulls away from you right now. Clingy and needy, desperate for him in a way that has his heart. He loves the idea that its him you want, only him, that no one else can fill that space.

Your neck almost cracks with how rapidly you shake your head, because as much as you want him to stay pressed against you, warm and heavy and delicious, you're not sure if that's enough anymore. Not when Quinn's commanding your attention, domineering over you like the captain he is.

"Use your words, baby, 'm not a mind reader, can't read that pretty little brain of yours." It's breathed out against the shell of your ear, the first stop before his lips trail down the side of your neck. This time the scratch of his beard is anything but funny, a little whimper leaving your throat as he sucks a hickey into your neck, one he's determined to make stay for at least a week, next to the beard burn you're definitely going to have as well.

"Want you, Quinny" Your fingers make their way back to his hair, its grown out so far in the season, long enough for you to tug on it when his own long fingers slide between you and tap your sternum.

"I'm right here, baby." It's frustrating and even more so as you squirm because you can feel his smirk against your neck, know he's purposefully acting like he doesn't know that you want his fingers in you.

"No, want you." you try to emphasis the point without words, too shy, always too shy to say what you're actually thinking and wanting and it always gets to Quinn. God, you're so fucking cute, how you refuse to tell him even while you're rutting against him and tugging on his hair.

"Here?" His fingers slip further down, hand pressed against your belly before slipping around to your waist, grip tight but not enough to leave marks.

You shake your head again, frustration building as you try to wiggle his hand lower.

"No? Mmm.." A kiss lands on the front of your throat and down to the dip where your sternum starts, while his hand moves again this time to your outer thigh, pulling you leg tighter against his hip, "Here?"

"Baby..." your voice actually cracks and breaks and when he pulls back to look at you there are tears in your eyes, frustrated tears that get to him and make him more than a little weak for you. He loves you too much to keep teasing you, pressing a kiss to your lips before mumbling against them.

"Oh, I see, you want me here instead, huh?" Quinn presses his thigh up between your legs, pressing firm against your cunt. You really can’t help it as you roll your hips against the intrusion, the fabric of your underwear brushing against your sensitive clit with each roll. It's an attempt, an effort to find some sort of friction, some sort of relief from the desire that burns in your belly and has your panties slick.

"Sweet girl wants to ride my fingers till she gets off? I got you, baby, don't worry." He doesn't expect a response and he doesn't get one, not really, just a babbling mess of words that broadens his smirk because you’re so pretty rutting against his thigh as you lie underneath him. You tug at his hair so hard he nearly hisses, but he's taken worse hits in a game before and he'd let you pull all his hair out to hear the way you whine under him.

Quinn's mouth covers yours at the same time as his hand slides up your thigh, long fingers pushing your panties to the slide quickly. Even quicker is the way he slides one finger into you, thumb seeking your clit in double time, as you moan into his mouth, hips wriggling against his hand.

"You're so fucking wet, baby, this all for me?" He murmurs it against your lips, thumb circling your clit as he presses a second finger into you, curling them until he finds that spongy little spot inside you, the spot that has you crying out his name and gasping for air, back arching off of the sofa and towards him.

There's not much mercy from Quinn as he thrusts his fingers into you, each time determined to curl against that same spot, his lips kissing from your mouth to behind your ear, sucking and licking hickies into your skin like your his own personal Monet painting.

It’s a third finger stretching you open, eased by the sheer amount of wetness that you drip with, and the way his beard scratches at the delicate skin of your neck, creating a shivery sort of delight through you, that has you cumming so hard and so fast that you think he might have broken a world record. You're gripping so tight around Quinn's fingers that he worries he might lose circulation in them.

You whine and moan his name so loud that he’s grateful he lives alone, no roommates, no brothers, no parents. Your body shivers and rolls, tensing and relaxing as your orgasm rolls through you in waves, as Quinn works you through it, thumb rubbing your clit and fingers still working against you but more gently this time, careful of your overstimulated nerves. “Fuck, there we go, I got you, baby...look at you, so fucking pretty."

Your hips jerk away from his touch, overstimulated and overly sensitive, Quinn lets you push his hand away, drags it out of your panties and catches your eye as he slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking you from his skin. He hums like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted and in his opinion you might just be.

His hand, still wet from his spit, cups your cheek gently. You press your cheek into it, eyes blinking up slowly at him as he rubs soft circles there. Soft and tender as he waits for you to catch your breath and come back down from it all, as his eyes watch you for any ounce of discomfort.

“You okay, baby?”

"Mmm...?" Quinn can't help but chuckle at the way you look up at him a little dumb smile on your face, eyes half-lidded and hazy. He’d be worried if I hadn’t seen that look on your face before.

"That good, huh? Got you a little stupid, baby?"

"Mmmm..." Quinn presses soft kisses across your face. Hitting the high points of your cheeks, the top of your forehead, the tip of your nose and the end of your chin. Careful as he helps you come down from it all, you start coming too a little, worried as you call out that he hasn't cum yet and he just shushes you. Tells you this wasn't about him, that he's fine and really, he is. He's happy just servicing you tonight, he knows he'll get his reward in the morning, the soft sort of sex that's all tender and sweet, the best kind.

He eases himself off you, even as you whine about it, hands and fingers grabbing at him, trying to pull him close again, always clingy after you cum.

“Need to get you cleaned up and ready for bed, baby...'m not goin' anywhere, don't worry.” Quinn's hands find yours, pulling you up with him as he stands from the sofa.

He's gentle as he guides you and your wobbly legs to the bathroom, as he helps you undress fully and stand under the warmth of the shower. His hands soft as he washes between your legs and over your sweat soaked skin, pressing soft soothing kisses into the beard burn and hickeys across your neck, even as he smirks proud of himself, of the marks he's left on your skin, claiming you as his for anyone to see.

He's careful as he washes your hair and helps you remove your makeup that has smudged. He's steady and sure as he helps you into one of 'your' favourite t-shirts, one you stole from him and claimed months ago.

You breathe out a soft sigh when you finally curl up under the covers with him, his body engulfing yours in his arms, pulling you back tight against him. You feel safe, so utterly at peace that it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep in Quinn's arms, even as he keeps his eyes on you with a soft smile, more than happy to stay awake just a little longer, just to capture this moment for a little while.

#18+ mdni #huggy bear writes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes/reader #nhl imagine

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starlightkun · 18 hours ago

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⇢ word count: 16.3k ⇢ genre: fluff, college au, brother's best friend trope, christmas/holiday themed, baseball player!jisung, rich kids!reader and chenle, part of my 2024 hallmark movie marathon ⇢ warnings: chenle and reader are annoying as hell together lol (they love each other but would die before saying ily), everyone’s parents suck!, only minor proof-reading bc i wanted to post for christmas, FAKE pro baseball players mentioned (idk anything abt baseball and was not going to research any real baseball players and be wrong abt them ok) ⇢ extra info: this is part of my 2024 hallmark movie marathon, three short, unrelated fics starring jisung all with cheesy hallmark christmas movie-esque premises. there’s no continuing plotline between fics in this series, they’re all standalone fics ⇢ author’s note: ok so this one isn’t exactly “short” but as always, i got carried away. im just happy i got this one out in time and it didn’t end up being 20k+ lmao. anyway, this is my last fic of my 2024 hallmark movie marathon, and of 2024, and i hope you guys had as much fun reading them as i did writing them! happy holidays and i will be back with even more fics in 2025! ⇢ 2024 hallmark movie marathon

“I know what you’ve been trying to do this whole time. You’re not ‘very into baseball,’ you’re into Jisung.”

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20

Clicking the ‘submit’ button for your last final paper of the semester, you let out a sigh of relief. You were done, for now. The time in the corner of your laptop read 10:58 p.m. You’d submitted with an hour to spare. Usually, you hated cutting it so close, but four of your five classes this semester had assigned fifteen-page papers, and you wanted to take your time researching, outlining, drafting, and editing all of them before the deadlines.

There were only a few other students scattered around the library so late on the last academic day of the semester. One table away from you was another student, a boy who had also been hard at work on his laptop for the greater part of the past four hours. You had seen him around campus, not in any meaningful way, but enough that his face was familiar to you. And tonight, you had been stealing glances at him—when he let out a groan or a sigh that rang a little too loud in the dead silence, pushed his hoodie off his head to reveal his dark hair and handsome features, or stood up from his chair to go to the vending machine around the corner and walk around the library to stretch his obscenely long legs. Yeah, you’d done a bit of ogling, you also needed a break every now and then.

He was still typing away at his laptop when you had packed up for the night and were heading out, your path taking you right by his table. You were never usually this bold, but maybe it was the rush from finally being done with finals week, or how late it was, but you found yourself stopping next to the end seat the cute boy was occupying.

Upon realizing that you were there, he looked at you with wide, uncertain eyes, slowly taking his headphones off. “Hm?”

“Are you going to be here till closing?” You asked him knowingly, a playful smile on your lips and bag of gummy candy in your hands. You had bought it during a vending machine break earlier in the night but never ended up opening it.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m hoping only another thirty minutes…”

“Here.” You offered the candies out to him. “I’m done for the night.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You set them down next to his laptop. Not wanting to take up any more of his waning time left to submit his assignment, you started off towards the exit again. “Good luck. Have a good break.”

“You too…”

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21

“You didn’t get his number?!” Your roommate gasped in horror after you told her about the cute guy from the library. She had been asleep when you got home last night, and now the two of you were packing in preparation for your respective winter break plans. Sooyoung was heading back home while you and your brother would be driving to meet your parents at your family’s winter house in the mountains.

“Or his name,” you confirmed sadly. “I mean, the poor guy only had an hour left of the semester to submit whatever he was working on, there was no way he would’ve wanted me wasting it.”

“You have got to find him when we get back.”

“I’ll try,” you agreed.

There was a long honk from outside your dorm, and you rolled your eyes before peering out your window. Sure enough, your brother’s sleek black SUV was outside.

“Alright, I’ll see you in two weeks, Soo.” You hugged your roommate goodbye. Before you could even grab your bag, there was another obnoxiously long honk, followed by a series of shorter honks.

You immediately videocalled your brother.

Chenle picked up, already complaining. “Y/N, hurry up! You always take forever—”

“Shut the fuck up!” You retorted, flipping off the camera. “You’re so fucking annoying, I swear to—”

He laid on the horn again, and you could hear complaints start up outside from other people yelling at him to shut the fuck up. Then, you swore you heard another voice in Chenle’s car, quietly suggesting that he stop, but it was too indistinct for you to properly identify.

“Who was that?” You squinted at him suspiciously.

“I told you I was bringing a friend—”

“I know, I meant which one?”

“Get your slow ass down here and find out, or we’re leaving you!” With that, he hung up.

You pocketed your phone with a quiet scream, then turned to your roommate. “Ugh! Can you believe we’re related?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately, not even looking at you.

Hauling your stuff downstairs by yourself, you were a little out of breath by the time you shoved the front door of your dorm open. Your duffel bag started slipping down your shoulder, and as you readjusted that, you weren’t even looking out for the uneven slab of concrete that you knew stuck up in front of the entrance. Your toe caught on it, and you let out an unfortunate ‘eep!’ as you tripped forward. Your bag slid off your shoulder again, catching on your elbow and swinging around, the weight making you stumble a little more. You stayed upright, and you were thankful that only your brother and his friend saw all that. Yeah, Chenle was going to tease you for the entire three-hour car ride, and Mark or whoever was coming with would definitely get in on the ribbing, but you had plenty of dirt on them too. It was the natural order of things.

“Clumsy ass,” Chenle yelled at you from the car, the driver’s side window rolled down. You flipped him off on instinct. “Jisung, go help her before she hurts herself.”

Jisung. That was a new one. Admittedly, you didn’t know all of your brother’s friends, you two ran in different circles at school. You were usually introduced them in passing if you happened to run into each other at events, or some you knew from before college, like Jeno and Jaemin, the twins who lived next door to you guys growing up, or Mark and Donghyuck, who you all went to high school with.

A car door opened and closed before a tall figure was walking around the front of the car to meet you on the sidewalk. You blinked in surprise as you recognized Chenle’s friend that was approaching you, and not because of your brother. The cute boy from the library was standing in front of you, seemingly having a similar sense of déjà vu as he froze, hand already outstretched, reaching for your duffel bag.

“Hey again,” you chuckled, putting your bag strap in his hand. “Did you get everything turned in on time?”

“Yeah, I did.” Jisung unfroze and smiled at you, and you swore the sun seemed dim in comparison. “Thanks for the candy, by the way. Completely forgot to tell you that.”

“It’s okay, you were busy.”

“I’m Jisung, by the way.”

You nodded towards your brother’s car. “I had guessed.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Right.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“I had guessed,” he quipped back.

Chenle honked again, then yelled, “Come on!”

You rolled your eyes. “Pain in the ass.”

Chenle popped the trunk for you from his seat, and Jisung put your duffel bag in among their things that were already packed, then he took your suitcase to put away as well. As you opened the passenger door, your brother immediately shook his head.

“Nuh-uh.”

“What?” You looked at him incredulously. “I always get shotgun!”

“And Jisung gets carsick in the backseat.” He pointed at the boy standing awkwardly behind you. “I’m not having him puke all over my car. You’ll survive the backseat for once.”

Hating his condescending tone, but with no other option, you graciously stepped aside. Jisung gave you a quiet ‘sorry, thanks’ as he opened the back door for you. After buckling yourself into the middle seat and Chenle starting his music, everyone was ready to go.

“Y/N, Jisung,” Chenle made introductions over his shoulder, jabbing his thumb between you two. “Jisung’s on the baseball team and was in my bio lab last semester. Y/N is my annoying little sister.”

You kicked the back of his seat. “By ten months. As soon as you popped out, Mom and Dad were so disappointed they immediately decided to have another kid.”

“Regret saying yes yet, Jisung?” He asked his friend smugly.

Jisung, meanwhile, had been staring straight ahead at the road, clearly feeling uncomfortable as he didn’t want to get in the middle of your typical bickering.

“Ignore him, Jisung.” You leaned forward between their seats over the center console, your tone much more friendly. “So you’re on the baseball team? Do you have an athletic scholarship or something?”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” he answered hurriedly. “Uhm, it’s the only way I could afford to go here. Full ride as long as I keep my grades up.”

You all did go to a rather expensive private university—your parents were alumni, they wouldn’t have sent you anywhere else, of course.

“Wow, so you must be really good, then.”

“I mean, I don’t know—”

“A full ride, I would think they only give those out to the best players, right?”

“Well—”

Chenle cut in, “You’re making him nervous, Y/N. Back up, for fuck’s sake.”

You didn’t back up. “Am I making you nervous, Jisung?”

“No, it’s fine,” he rushed to reassure you, finally turning around in his seat to face you. He let out a squeak as soon as he did, probably not anticipating that you’d be as close as you were. He sat back in his seat, propping himself up against his seatback on his forearm. “Uhm, it’s just that this is only gonna be my second season. Still a rookie, you know. I don’t think I’m that good.”

Jisung sort of reminded you of a little hamster when he was nervous like this, and your lips twitched with amusement. He really was cute.

“When’s baseball season?”

“Practice officially starts in January, first game’s in February.”

“Don’t you get cold out on the field?”

He shrugged self-consciously. “I mean, we’re moving around a lot. And we have hand warmers and stuff for when we’re on the bench.”

You kept eagerly asking him questions. “What position do you play?”

“Pitcher. I’m a switch pitcher—I can pitch left or right-handed—so they like that.”

“So it’s a surprise for the other team?”

“No, you have to declare which hand you’re going to pitch for each batter beforehand,” he admitted, then quickly tacked on, “But it still kinda throws them off!”

You hummed thoughtfully. “What about when you’re hitting the ball?”

“I could do either, but I prefer my right.”

“You’re never this interested in my friends,” Chenle interrupted accusatorily.

“Because I already know like, way too much about the twins, Hyuck, and Mark. Wish I could unlearn some of it, actually,” you snorted. “And you’ve been trying to get me into sports for our whole lives. What’s the problem?”

“Basketball,” your brother corrected you. “I’ve been trying to get you to watch basketball with me. Jisung plays baseball. Wrong sport.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m five,” you snapped, kicking his seat again.

“Stop kicking my seat like a five-year-old and I might,” he retorted.

You scowled at the back of his big head.

“I can see you pouting in the rearview mirror.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, flopping back against your seat.

“Saw that too.”

“Wasn’t trying to hide it!” You snipped back childishly. Turning your focus back to Jisung, who was looking out the passenger window, you asked, “Is he like this to you, Jisung?”

“Don’t answer that,” Chenle directed him before the other boy could open his mouth. “She’ll tire herself out.”

“Oh, you’re insufferable!” You spat. “Talking about me like I’m not even here! Or like I’m Daegal!”

“Well, Daegal is actually trained.”

“Pull the car over, I’m going to beat your ass!”

“Hey!” Surprisingly, it was the soft-spoken Jisung who raised his voice over the sounds of you two fighting, shocking both of you into silence. He continued, “Chenle, you’ve been antagonizing Y/N ever since we pulled up in front of her dorm, man. Then you act like she’s crazy for being pissed off at you. It’s honestly pissing me off.”

Chenle huffed loudly, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel, before he finally said, “Fine. Sorry, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever. Thanks for apologizing because Jisung told you to.” You unbuckled and scooted over to the seat behind Jisung, buckling back in and looking out the window at the scenery rushing by.

The car was silent other than Chenle’s music, which he turned up as you pulled out your phone.

[you: i found out cute library guy’s name]

[soosoo: omfg the cia has nothing on u]

[soosoo: SPILL]

[you: i didn’t stalk him, turns out he’s my brother’s friend. his name is park jisung and he’s on the baseball team]

[soosoo: your brother’s friend that you’re going to be ALL ALONE WITH in the mountains for the next TWO WEEKS???]

[you: not ALL ALONE, chenle will be there, remember?]

[soosoo: unfortunately]

[soosoo: WAIT i found him on the team’s roster online and WHEW GIRL]

[soosoo: attached image.]

It was a screenshot of Jisung’s athlete profile on the university’s sports page. The small ID photo he had on there honestly did him no justice.

[soosoo: how is ur brother always friends w the HOTTEST GUYS who ALSO PLAY SPORTS????]

[soosoo: i need him to hook me up fr]

[you: don’t tell me ur thinking abt jeno and jaemin rn]

[soosoo: always]

[you: u don’t need chenle to hook u up if u rlly want, im friends with them too??]

[soosoo: YOU WOULD????]

[you: but you’d have to pick one]

[soosoo: god i am not your strongest soldier]

[you: exactly what i thought]

At the mountain cabin, you three were the first ones there, of course. You parents wouldn’t be arriving until Christmas Eve due to their work schedules. The house was already decorated like something straight out of a Hallmark movie—lights, red and green bows, candy canes, baubles, and other decorations all throughout.

“Wow,” Jisung breathed out, stopping in the foyer and turning around, his eyes wide as he took it all in. “Your parents are really into Christmas, huh?”

“Not really.” You had also stopped to watch his slow circle of awe. “They pay somebody to set it up.”

The wonder dropped off his face and was replaced with confusion, his brow furrowing. Chenle yelled for him from further in the house, and you jerked your head for him to follow. Your brother was at the threshold of the hallway where all your rooms were located.

“Yours is there,” Chenle pointed Jisung to one end of the hallway as you slipped by him to head to the bedroom at the other end. “Y/N’s is on the other side.”

“We share a bathroom,” you called over your shoulder as you opened the door. “Don’t use all the hot water in the morning!”

“And I’m upstairs.” Your brother indicated to a small ladder between Jisung’s room and the bathroom in the middle. “I got the loft. Won it in rock-paper-scissors almost two decades ago.”

“You cheated!” You reminded him loudly from where you had started unpacking your things in your room.

“Sore loser!”

“Sore winner!”

“Anyway, holler if you need something.”

You were still unpacking when there was a soft knock at your open door. It was Jisung leaning in your doorway.

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly.

“Hey.” You smiled at him brightly. “Bathroom’s the middle door. We both have doors that connect to it, so knock before we go in? Even if the light is off?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Jisung continued silently watching you unpack, then finally blurted out, “You egg him on.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Chenle.” He held his hands up in front of him defensively as you opened your mouth. “I know he started everything back in the car, but you didn’t help.”

You sat back on your feet in front of your open suitcase and dresser drawers. “Yeah, I know I’ve got a temper problem. I need to work on it.”

“I didn’t say anything in front of him because I kind of got the feeling that he was being extra mean because I was there.”

“When we’re hanging out with friends that we kinda share, like Jeno and Jaemin or whoever, it’s fine. You know, they met both of us at the same time. But I think when we’re with people that are his friends, it’s different,” you explained, gesturing to an armchair in the corner for Jisung to sit in while you talked. “We were always in the same grade and stuff, so obviously people assumed we were twins. That’s also why he really gets on the ‘little sister’ thing. When we got to college, we were both relieved to finally be different people, you know? Have different friends, different things that were ours.”

“You seem to understand him really well.”

“Known him my whole life,” you pointed out. “And just because I understand why he acts like this doesn’t mean it still doesn’t piss me the fuck off.”

“To answer your question from the car, no, he doesn’t treat me like that. He’s sarcastic, sure, but not like that.”

Zipping up your empty suitcase, you started on your duffel bag that was on your bed. “Sorry you had to deal with us like that, even more so that you had break us up. I’m sure the next two weeks were flashing before your eyes, huh?”

“Honestly, I’m just glad you didn’t actually start beating him up,” he chuckled.

“Me too, that would’ve been embarrassing.” You added, “For him. To get his ass beat in front of one of his buddies.”

He looked out the room down the hallway, checking to see if Chenle was coming, then admitted, “Don’t tell him, but I was sort of calculating how many swings to let you get in before it would look unreasonable for me to not intervene.”

“Oh really? And how many would you have ‘let me’ have?” You grinned, using finger quotes over ‘let me.’

“One good punch and a hair pull, I think.” He looked to be sizing you up, a teasing glint in his eye. “You seem like you fight dirty like that.”

“Could claim you didn’t want to hurt your friend’s little sister, let me get a few more in.” You mimicked punching and kneeing the air. “At least let me knee him in the balls.”

“I’ll consider it in the event you two do actually brawl while we’re here.”

You looked up at the ceiling, thinking about your brother up there somewhere. “Eh, we’ll make up properly soon. One thing about us, we fight a lot, but it’s never for that long.”

“Okay, now I’m worried about the next two weeks.”

You laughed, maybe a little harder than his joke warranted, but you couldn’t help it—he was cute, he was funny, and he was making your chest feel tighter and your head spin faster the longer you were around him.

“Why are you in here?” Chenle had appeared in your doorway, looking genuinely perturbed at the visage of Jisung sitting in your chair.

“Because we’re talking?” You answered for him. “Or is he only allowed to talk to you while he’s here and I have to take a vow of silence?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he snickered, walking in and flopping on your bed.

“You first.”

“You want to do lunch in town then get the tree?” He checked the time on his phone. “Mom and Dad know how much you like Christmas tree shopping so that’s the only thing not done.”

“Or is it just another responsibility to pawn off on someone?” You snorted, opening the door into the adjoining bathroom to put your toiletry bag away.

Your brother’s distant voice called after you, “Even if it is, we can still have fun!”

You took a deep breath, and came out of the bathroom with a smile on your face. “You’re right. Let’s do it.”

“Ew, stop that, it’s creepy.” Chenle threw a pillow at you.

You caught it and chucked it right back at him. “What? Smiling?”

It hit him in the face before falling to the floor. “Yeah, exactly. I’m done trying to cheer you up, keep being a little Grinch, it suits your face better.”

You climbed on the bed and grabbed a pillow to smack him with it. “Quit being fucking rude!”

He laughed and cackled, rolling away from your pillow attack until his eyes went wide with panic as he went right over the edge of the mattress and landed on the floor. It was your turn to burst into laughter at the sound he made, and when he started groaning and complaining, you knew he was fine. Jisung was also laughing from his seat.

You finally gathered yourself enough to peer over the edge of the bed, looking down at where Chenle was sprawled out dramatically like a cartoon character that had been crushed by an anvil. As soon as he looked at you, he started giggling too.

“What about this one?” Mr. Song, the elderly man who had run the Christmas tree farm in town for as long as your family had been coming for the holidays, was showing you around to the various trees they had for sale.

“Ah, too skinny.” You shook your head. “We have a lot of ornaments. And a vaulted ceiling too, so we can get a taller one.”

“Right, of course. How could I forget?” His eyes crinkled fondly as he walked you around by the elbow. “You and your brother have gotten so big, Y/N. I remember when you two were up to my knee. Always playing hide and seek in the trees.”

“We used to think you were Santa Claus,” you giggled, gesturing to his big, bushy beard. “We told everyone we knew that we got our Christmas tree from Santa every year.”

“Good to see that Chenle and your boyfriend get along so well.” He nodded to where Chenle and Jisung were throwing snowballs at each other. More accurately, Jisung was pelting them at Chenle with scary precision, and Chenle was doing his best to throw some back in between peals of laughter.

“Oh, Jisung is Chenle’s friend from school, he’s not my boyfriend,” you clarified quickly.

“My mistake.” Mr. Song patted your arm.

After circling the next one Mr. Song showed you, you were content, inspecting how dense the branches were, the height, and general shape.

“Guys!” You yelled out to get Chenle and Jisung’s attention. They ceased their (unfair) battle, meandering over to you. “What do you think?”

Chenle gave it a once-over before nodding. “Great pick as always, Y/N.”

“Is that going to fit through the front door?” Jisung asked skeptically, trying to fit his arms around it to gauge the size.

“It will,” you promised as Chenle pulled out his checkbook.

Two of Mr. Song’s grandsons brought the tree up to the cabin in their truck, and you had to open both front doors all the way for them to carry it in. They got it set up in the corner for you, and you sent them on their way with an extra cash tip.

“We’ve got to let the branches settle before we can decorate it,” you advised Jisung. “So we’ll do that tomorrow.”

“Y/N’s got a whole thing about the tree,” Chenle added from one of the couches, turning the TV on.

“Smells nice,” Jisung piped up.

“Did your family have real trees or artificial ones?” You asked, taking up the other couch.

Jisung seemed to momentarily panic about where to sit, before taking the empty space at the end of Chenle’s couch, facing you. “A fake one. It came with the lights already on. Easier for my mom to set up.”

“One or two?” Chenle asked abruptly.

“What?”

“Two!” You answered, and Chenle immediately played a movie from whatever streaming service he was scrolling through. You went to fill Jisung in, “It’s a game we like to play. One of us will assign numbers to things in our head without telling the other, and you have to reply with a number without really knowing what you’re picking.”

“I couldn’t decide which movie to watch,” Chenle added.

“So, instead of a coin flip, you used Y/N?” Jisung clarified.

“Sort of. You can do it for more than two options. Like…” You tilted your head back and forth as you tried to think of one on the spot. As soon as you had, you perked up. “One, two or three?”

“Three?”

“Hot chocolate it is.” You stood up from the couch and headed towards the kitchen.

Jisung turned in his seat to keep you in his eyesight. “Wait, what were the options?”

“That’s part of the fun.” You smiled. “Sometimes you never know.”

A few minutes later, you came back into the room with three mugs of hot chocolate, and handed one each to Chenle and Jisung before sitting back on your couch.

Several movies, rounds of various video games, and large pizzas later, you were beat. Standing up from your couch, you stretched and started grabbing everyone’s plates.

“I’ll get these if you guys put the food away?”

Chenle gave you a thumbs-up, his eyes locked on his phone screen.

“Night!” You tossed back over your shoulder as you traipsed out of the room.

“Night!” Your brother echoed.

“Goodnight!” Jisung replied.

As soon as you were bundled up in your blankets in your room, you videocalled Sooyoung. She picked up, the familiar scenery of her childhood bedroom in the background.

“Hey!” She beamed. “How was day one? Kill Chenle? Make any moves on cute library guy?”

“We know his name now, Soo!” You laughed.

“But a nickname is so fun and mysterious!”

“I did almost kill Chenle in the first ten minutes of the car ride,” you groaned. “Jisung surprisingly came to my defense.”

“Your brother’s friend took your side against him? Wow…”

“He’s really sweet, he’s making an effort to be my friend too.”

“Friend? Or something else?” She waggled her eyebrows.

“I don’t know, it’s been one day,” you giggled, rolling over onto your back. “Anyway, how’s your family?”

You stayed up chatting for another hour before finally going to sleep, giddy with thoughts of what could happen tomorrow.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 22

In the morning, with no alarm for class to get you up, you woke up, rolled over, and went back to sleep several times. Eventually, you decided that it was time to get up, and slowly shuffled out of your room. Chenle was already up, by the stove cooking something. Jisung was nowhere in sight, probably still sleeping.

Upon hearing your footsteps, he looked over his shoulder. “Morning.”

You grunted back.

“Mom called.”

You made another noise of acknowledgment, still rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you lumbered over to your seat at the table. Your brother set a plate of pancakes down in front of you, and you squinted up at him suspiciously. Typically he would’ve made you get your own plate, or more likely, make your own food. Actually, it was kind of weird that he was up before you. He must not have gone back to sleep after talking to your mom. It wasn’t unusual for her to have called early in the morning—your parents’ work took them all around the world, and often the only free time they could find had them calling at odd hours.

“They’re not going to make it for Christmas, Y/N,” he told you softly, still standing next to your chair.

“Of course,” you scoffed, lip curling with distaste as you picked up your fork.

“They’ll be here on the 26th, and we can do everything with them then.”

“Are they staying for New Year’s?”

His silence was all the answer you needed.

“Of course,” you repeated with more venom in your tone than before, dropping your utensil back down onto the table. “What the fuck else should we have expected? Honestly, why do they even fucking bother?”

He put a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Chenle, don’t apologize for them.” You patted his hand. “It’s not your fault.” Pushing your chair back, you stood up. “I’m not hungry right now. I’m going out back.”

“I’ll save your plate.”

Shoving boots on your feet and pulling a heavier coat on, you opened the door in your bedroom that led directly out onto the back patio. It had snowed last night, so you had to shuffle through the fresh layer to get to the swing seat back here. The cold morning air bit at your nose and cheeks, and you tucked your hands into your pockets to keep them warm—you’d forgotten gloves. Sighing, you watched your breath fog up in front of your face, until your tears overtook your vision and you couldn’t see anything past them.

You pulled your knees to your chest on the porch swing, pushing your face into the thick material of your pajama pants. Why did it still hurt so bad? They did this all the fucking time.

The sound of feet crunching snow came to your ears, and you wiped at your face as you looked up at who was approaching you. It was Jisung, two steaming mugs in his gloved hands.

“Uhm, Chenle said you weren’t hungry. Does cider count?” He offered one out to you.

You chuckled, accepting it, grateful to have something warm to wrap your chilly fingers around. “No, it doesn’t. Thanks, Jisung.”

“It’s pretty out here,” he commented, looking around at the scenery. “Or not, if you want me to go back inside.”

You laughed again, gesturing to the empty half of the porch swing next to you. “You can stay.”

Jisung brushed off the snow from the rest of the porch swing before sitting down. He wedged his mug of cider between his legs and you watched him curiously as he started taking his gloves off. He offered them out to you, making you shake your head.

“I’m fine, I’ve got the cider—”

“So do I.”

“Then how about this.” You plucked one glove from him and put it on your right hand, which was holding the handle of the mug. Your left cradled the body of the mug, where all the warmth was. “Glove goes on the colder hand.”

He chuckled, slipping his remaining glove on his left, and wrapping his right hand around the mug. “Innovative.”

“Thank you.”

The smile faded as he turned more somber. “I’m sorry to hear that your parents’ plans changed.”

You took a sip of the cider, staring out at the still landscape of snow-covered trees and mountains. “Me too. You think I would be used to it by now.”

“Chenle was talking about maybe going to this ice-skating place later. If you’re feeling up to it.”

“That’s what’s nice about having him. No matter how much stupid shit we fight about, we’ve at least got each other when they do stuff like this.” You half-smiled to yourself. “You know, sometimes I think they did that on purpose. Had two kids instead of one so they wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving us alone all the time.”

The tears had come back, and you wiped at them with your bare hand, not wanting to soil Jisung’s glove that he had given you. Shaking your head at yourself, you said derisively, “I’m sure I seem pathetic to you. Rich girl crying in her family’s winter vacation home because mommy and daddy won’t make it for Christmas.”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

You turned your gaze to Jisung to find him already looking at you, so sincerely, too. Swallowing down more tears, you asked, “Why aren’t you home with your family? I’m sure you’d much rather be with them than stuck here with us.”

“My parents are divorced. Every year, my dad and his wife go on some cruise for Christmas, and my mom spends it with my stepdad’s family. They say I’m welcome there, but they’re all strangers, except my mom.” He shrugged half-heartedly, blowing across the surface of his cider. “I know it’s kinda my fault too, I’m not making an effort to get to know them or whatever. But I just… don’t want to.”

“How’d you end up coming along with Chenle then?”

“Last year I stayed at school for Winter Break. Met Chenle in the spring, and when Winter Break plans came up this year, he was appalled at the idea of me eating at the dining hall for Christmas dinner.” Jisung chuckled, and you smiled fondly, able to imagine your brother’s horrified face. “It wasn’t even an offer, he decided for me.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here instead of eating dining hall food by yourself.”

“Me too.”

“And I’m sorry your parents suck too.”

“Shitty parents club.” He held his mug out to you.

You clinked your against it in a commiserative toast. “We need Chenle out here for our full membership.”

“Yeah, but this swing only fits two people…”

You smiled a little as you sipped your cider. “Then I guess it’s just us for right now.”

Jisung smiled back. “Guess so.”

That afternoon, as promised, you three went ice skating. The local nature reserve had a lake that always froze solid, and would rent out ice skates and sell hot chocolate and other treats to earn a little extra income—free admission if you brought your own skates. You were the first one to get your skates on, and shuffled onto the frozen lake excitedly. There were a few other people out here—couples, families, groups of friends—but the area cordoned off for ice skating was big enough that everyone had plenty of room to spread out. A wide smile immediately spread across your face. Chenle knew you well, which was a blessing and a curse. He knew exactly how to push your buttons and cheer you up.

Speaking of, your brother smoothly skated up next to you, smug look on his face. “Better?”

“With a head that big, I’d hope you’d have a good idea every so often,” you teased, lightly bopping him through his beanie.

“Ungrateful.” He snapped one of your earmuffs against your head, not hard enough to hurt.

You two had been milling back and forth waiting for Jisung, and you looked back over at the bench where you’d all been tying up your skates to find him still sitting there, fiddling with the laces.

Chenle followed your gaze. “What is he doing? He had them tied when I got up, I thought he was right behind me.”

You shrugged, exiting the ice to stop in front of Jisung on the bench. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just—” Jisung swallowed, squinting and scrunching up his nose nervously. “I’ve only been ice skating once, and I was a kid, so…”

“You don’t know how,” you finished.

“I mean—Yes.”

“Come on.” You offered out your arm out to him.

He waved his hands as he refused. “I’m going to do something stupid like fall and end up breaking your arm or—”

“No, it’ll be fine,” you assured him. “Seriously, I did ice skating lessons as a kid.”

“You did?”

“You’re in good hands, I promise.”

Jisung grabbed your arm, and using both you and the bench as leverage, stood up. He looked around warily as you patted his back.

“There you go, you got it. Now, you get to walk until you get to the ice.” As you coached him through the basics of operating his skates, you slowly guided him closer to the edge of the ice. You stepped onto the ice first, keeping a hold on both of his gloved hands for him to cautiously join you, one foot at a time.

“You didn’t think to tell us you’ve never skated?” Chenle questioned dryly as he joined you two.

“I have!” Jisung defended himself. “Once…”

“Well Y/N can teach you,” he offered you up. “She used to do lessons, till she got kicked out.”

“Wait, for what?”

You rolled your eyes at your brother just having to bring that up. Nudging Jisung forward to start moving his legs, you began relaying the story, “I called my coach a bitch to her face and refused to apologize.”

“Just because or…?”

“First of all, I was seven, so impulse control wasn’t even in my vocabulary. Second of all, she called another little girl in the class fat to her face! She had just gotten a new competition dress, it was this really pretty purple one with sparkles and stuff all over it, and the teacher told her she shouldn’t wear it because something about the pattern made her look bigger or something ridiculous. A seven-year-old! She’s just lucky she didn’t get an ice skate to the face!” Your rant picked up steam and volume as you continued, feeling freshly pissed off as you recalled the incident.

Jisung frowned, looking troubled as well. “That’s awful.”

“I know! Honestly, I’m glad I got kicked out. I hated that woman.” You pulled him away from a divot in the ice. “Watch out. Don’t want your blade getting caught in that.”

“Thanks. You seem to have retained a lot.”

“I didn’t get very far before I was booted,” you scoffed. “But I guess we still went to rinks and out here pretty frequently, so I haven’t lost the basics, at least.”

“So are we decorating the tree later?”

“Yep, should take the rest of the day.”

“Seriously?”

“We’ve got a lot of ornaments.” You snickered at his wide eyes, looking to your other side where Chenle had been skating for confirmation. Instead, your brother had disappeared. Confused, you scanned the figures on the ice, finally spotting him far ahead of you, skating backwards at an impressive speed. “He left us.”

Jisung finally detached his eyes from where they’d been glued on his feet, chuckling when he saw Chenle as well. “He’s not very patient, is he?”

“Not a virtue he was born with, no.” You turned your attention back to Jisung. “Think you’re getting the hang of it?”

His grip tightened on your arm. “If I say yes, are you going to let go of me?”

“No,” you laughed. “Not until you’re ready.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“But let’s try this.” You moved to hold both his hands, skating backwards in front of him. “Okay?”

“You can’t see behind you,” he said, nervously glancing between your face and over your shoulder.

You checked over your shoulder. It was clear, and you redirected your path to make sure you weren’t heading directly at the next closest people. “I’ve got it.”

“I feel like I’m leaning forward too much, how do I—Wah!” The distinct clank of Jisung’s skates hitting each other rang out, and he fell forward.

Not wanting him to faceplant into your skates or the ice, you braked and tensed your arms to try to keep him up. However, since you had braked and he obviously did not, his forward momentum sent him catapulting directly into you. His arms wrapped around your waist as his legs scrambled against the ice trying to find his footing again. You readjusted your hold on him to clutch him under the arms in an attempt to keep him up, but with all the layers that you were bundled up in and the slippery ice, it was a losing battle. You were a good skater, but you couldn’t haul him back to his feet like this. So you decided to just let the two of you slowly descend, squatting down until you could plant your butt on the ice and kick your feet out on either side of Jisung, careful not to hit him with your blades.

“You alright?” You asked him, pulling his beanie back from where it was entirely obscuring his eyes.

“Please tell me I’m dead,” he groaned, the half of his face that you could see was completely pink and his eyes were squeezed shut. His head was pressed against your middle as he was still clinging onto you.

“No, you survived that,” you laughed. “And so did I. No broken arms or other bones.”

“Will you kill me anyway?”

A spray of ice showered both of you as Chenle stopped next to you guys, proceeding to double over with laughter. “Clumsy ass.”

“Nice, thank you,” you scoffed, wiping off the cold ice from your face, then a couple drops that had gotten on Jisung’s cheek. “Anytime you’d like to quit being an asshole and help us up.”

“I don’t know, you two look pretty cozy to me.”

Jisung somehow turned even redder, squirming in your grasp. “Y/N, I’m sorry!”

“Chenle, shut up!” You scolded your brother. “You’re making Jisung freak out and he’s going to hurt himself!”

“You make him sound like a scared prey animal,” he snickered. Letting out a sigh, he patted his friend’s back. “Alright, Jisung, come on.”

With Chenle’s assistance, Jisung got to his feet, and you were then able to stand back up on your own. Brushing snow off your legs, you shivered, and saw that the entire front of Jisung’s pants were soaked through thanks to the ice, and you could feel that the back of your own had suffered a similar fate.

“I think that’s enough ice skating for today,” you declared. “My ass is quite literally going to freeze off if we stay out here any longer.”

Jisung nodded quickly from where he was clinging onto Chenle to stay upright now. “I’m skated out.”

“Good thing my car has heated seats then,” Chenle said, beginning to drag his friend back towards the exit.

After a hot shower and in a fresh change of warm pajamas, you were in front of the Christmas tree with all of the boxes of decorations for it. You had already wound the lights around it when Jisung joined you in the living room, hair still damp from his shower—he’d given you first shower out of guilt.

“Hey, you know where Chenle is?” You asked, flipping open boxes of ornaments. Chenle’s loft bedroom had a private bathroom, so you figured he’d be out by now.

“He got a call—Mark, I think,” Jisung informed you.

“Oh, that’ll take an hour,” you snorted. “You can help me. Put any ornaments that have Chenle’s name on them aside, he gets to put those up whenever he’s done.”

“Any ornaments with your name are yours to put up?” He guessed, reaching into a box and pulling out an ornament in the shape of a bear with a Santa hat on. The white band of the hat had ‘Chenle’ written in cursive.

“Yep. Everything else is fair game for you. Quick tip, any bear ornaments will be Chenle’s. That’s his parent-assigned motif.”

“Got it. And what’s yours?”

You held up the honeybee ornament that you’d just fished out, letting it dangle and twist in the air, the yellow gems catching the light. “Bees. They had a theme, kind of.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.” He reached up to hang a blue and gold ornament on a higher branch, though you could feel his eyes on you as you put your own up on a middle branch. Finally, he blurted out, “Are you sure you didn’t get hurt earlier?”

“Yeah, Jisung, I’m okay,” you chuckled. “Really, we were both wearing so many layers we were practically bubblewrapped.”

He visibly relaxed. “Okay, good.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. But I crashed into you, not the other way around.”

“True, but you had a much less graceful descent.”

He visibly grimaced, a bashful smile on his face. “Mm-hm. Thank you for bringing that up again.”

“Pretty sure you brought it up again,” you teased, nudging his arm with yours as you reached in front of him to hang an ornament.

“And I would love to change the topic now.” He grabbed an ornament in the shape of a snowman.

“What’s your major?” You decided to save him this time. “You and Chenle had bio lab together, but I know he took bio for non-majors, so you’re not a STEM major either…”

Jisung made a buzzer noise, and you blinked at him in surprise. He cracked a grin as he said, “Cybersecurity.”

“Ah, so you’re a baseball jock and a little computer geek…” You nodded slowly, grabbing another ornament. “The duality of man, truly.”

“Geek?” He repeated incredulously.

“What? I think it’s cute.” You giggled and put up the glass snowflake in your hand. Then, you turned back to him hopefully. “Ooh, actually, my laptop gets possessed sometimes ever since Chenle clicked on one of those sketchy porn pop-up ads when we were fourteen. You don’t think you would be able to take a look at it sometime, would you?”

Jisung visibly sustained whiplash at your words, his head jerking back and eyes going wide before he furrowed his brows. “Wait, what? How old is your laptop? He did what to it? What do you mean it gets possessed? What exactly does it do?”

“Uhm… it’d probably be easier to show you.”

“Y/N, this thing is old enough to drive.”

You put your hands on either side of your laptop’s screen as if you were covering its ears, giving Jisung a stern look. “Sh! You’re going to hurt her feelings!”

He continued to look at you over his glasses, entirely unamused. This was the first time you’d seen him wear them—even in the library, he’d had contacts in. Now, with him wearing his casual clothes, glasses, sitting on your bed and attempting to fix your laptop, you felt like you were going to lose it, truly. Especially when you’d catch a whiff of his shampoo, and you’d have to stop yourself from leaning in to follow the smell of cinnamon.

“Seriously, why do you still have it? Chenle has the newest Macbook,” he asked, fingers flitting across the keyboard.

“Because it works fine!” You insisted, removing your hands. “I get the internal stuff cleaned out regularly, and make sure all the software is updated and everything.”

“It still gets software updates?”

“It just… gets possessed every so often.”

“I wouldn’t call the occasional possession ‘working fine.’”

“When it’s not possessed, it works great! And it doesn’t even happen that much, only like, once a month.”

“Once a month since you were fourteen?” He squinted at you in disbelief where you were sitting on the opposite side of the laptop screen. “And you kept the damn thing?”

“No, once a month now,” you clarified. “It happened the first time when Chenle clicked on that porn ad, then maybe once a year for a few years after, and slowly started happening more and more often.”

“And he was watching porn on your computer because…?”

“So it wouldn’t be on his internet history.”

He snorted. “Of course. I should’ve realized.”

“Can I watch?”

“Oh, uhm, sure?” He readjusted to make room to his left side on the mattress, angling the laptop that way as well.

You shuffled around to the other side of the computer, dropping to lay down on your front, propping your chin up with your elbows to observe. Tilting your head, you rested it against Jisung’s knee that was next to you. His hands froze over the keys, and you lifted your head back up, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Sorry—Is this okay?”

“Y-Yeah, you’re fine.” He nodded quickly and pushed his glasses up as he returned his attention to the screen.

Leaning your head back against his knee, you settled in to watch him work on your laptop. You couldn’t follow what exactly he was doing to the computer, opening and closing different windows, folders, and applications. You zoned out, watching his hands and fingers deftly move over the keys instead. He was muttering to himself under his breath, his low voice pleasant to listen to even if you couldn’t make out the words he was saying. This close to him, you could smell the cinnamon better, and were starting to think that maybe it was actually a body wash or cologne.

“Y/N?” He said your name, making you snap out of a daze as you realized he was calling for you. “Hello?”

“Hm?” You perked up a little.

“We need to do an exorcism.”

That woke you all the way back up. “Wait, what?”

“Complete reset. Wipe everything and redownload the OS.”

“But I have everything on there!” You pleaded, stretching your hands over the keyboard to prevent him from doing anything else. “We’ve been through so much together! You can’t kill her!”

He sighed regretfully. “Is there an electronics store or something around here? We can get an external hard drive to back up all your personal stuff.”

“There’s a mall like an hour away. Chenle and I need to go gift shopping anyway so we can go tomorrow!”

“Why did I hear my name?” Chenle’s voice came from further down the hallway. He must have finished his call with Mark. Your brother poked his head into your room, briefly pausing when he saw you and Jisung. “I thought you guys were decorating the tree…?”

“Remember how you downloaded a virus trying to watch porn on my computer in high school? Jisung is fixing it for me,” you said pointedly, never missing an opportunity to bring that moment up. “But we need to buy something. I was telling him you and I need to go gift shopping anyway, so we can all go to that mall tomorrow.”

“Please tell me the thing you’re buying is a new laptop.”

“Never! She’s going to outlive you if I have anything to do with it!”

“Based off the fact that it sounds like a jet engine taking off right now, I’m pretty sure that was a threat on my life.”

MONDAY, DECEMBER 23

“Okay, so you’ll need at least this much storage for the files that you have right now,” Jisung explained, motioning to a few different options of hard drives that the electronics store had. He then gestured to a few more. “But if you really want to have her until Chenle’s dead, you might want to consider some more storage.”

You grinned, bumping his shoulder affectionately. “You said ‘her.’”

He covered his mouth as he let out a sputtering laugh, his cheeks turning pink. “Oh God—I didn’t even realize. That’s—Ah, you’re rubbing off on me.”

“I like that one,” you declared, pointing to one hard drive that was a similar colorway to the laptop case you had.

“Yeah, that’s more than enough storage.”

After purchasing your hard drive, you and Jisung headed out of the electronics store together. Chenle had already gone off to gift shop on his own so you and Jisung couldn’t see what he bought you.

You turned to Jisung. “Want to help me shop for Chenle?”

“Sure.”

The two of you meandered around the mall, popping into stores that seemed promising from the outside. As you passed by a jewelry display in a window, you tapped on the glass in front of a pair of earrings.

“Those are cute,” you commented, slowing down but not stopping entirely.

“You think so?” Jisung questioned, looking at them over your shoulder as you kept walking.

“Mhm.” You nodded, then clicked your tongue. “I’d get them, but I already have a pair like them.”

“You do?”

“Yep.” Keeping your gaze on the passing storefronts, you said levelly, “I don’t want to assume anything about what you think of me, Jisung, but I want you to know that I don’t expect a present from you. We only properly met two days ago.”

“Yeah, that’s… really reasonable,” he chuckled, the relief evident in his voice.

“Seriously, if you fix my computer, that’ll be the best Christmas present I get this year, hands-down. I don’t care what expensive crap my parents get me or surprisingly thoughtful, niche thing Chenle somehow manages to find.”

“I didn’t realize how much my computer exorcism skills were worth.”

“To me, they’re priceless,” you assured him. “I wish I had something to offer in return.”

“Hey, you already taught me how to skate,” he insisted, nudging your arm.

You tilted your head side-to-side contemplatively. “One could argue whether I was successful at that…”

“Completely my fault that the lesson got cut short, not yours.”

“Alright, alright. I suppose a computer exorcism can be our quid pro quo for ten minutes of ice-skating lessons.”

“I didn’t pay much attention in my high school history class when Mr. Yoo was talking about the bartering system, but I’m pretty sure those two things are equivalent, yeah.”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth and squeezing your eyes shut as you started to go a little light-headed from how hard you were laughing. You were still walking forward alongside Jisung, and felt him grab your arm and tug you towards him at the same time he warned, “Watch out.”

You couldn’t see whatever you must’ve almost walked into as you were still trying to sober up from your chuckle fest, covering your face as more giggles bubbled up every time you tried to close your mouth. Jisung kept you right next to him, guiding you through the mall crowd with a gentle but steadfast grasp on your arm, not letting you bump into anybody or trip over anything.

“Are you really still laughing?” He asked, and though his words were exasperated, his tone was overly fond, letting out a soft laugh of his own at the end. “I don’t think it was that funny…”

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, shook his hand off you, and suppressed your giggles to say, “Fine. I don’t think you’re funny at all and I hate you, actually.”

Jisung’s mouth parted as he stared at you in shock, and you couldn’t keep the bit going for very long when faced with his adorable look of being totally caught off-guard and floored, even if both of you knew it was all a joke. You grabbed his arm this time, your laughs getting muffled in his sweater as you buried your face in his shoulder and leaned against him for support.

“Oh my god, you looked like I ran over your dog or something!” You gasped for air between guffaws, apologetically rubbing his arm.

“You’re…” He trailed off, letting out a sigh instead, reaching for your purse that was on your arm and now awkwardly crushed between you two with you holding his arm. “Here, I’ll take that.”

He had already been carrying your shopping bags that you’d been acquiring from the various stores, and you now stopped to wordlessly shimmy off your purse for him to shoulder on his opposite side from you. You reattached yourself to his arm that you had been holding, and though his cheeks were turning pink, he had a small smile on his face as he looked down at his phone to check the time.

“Did your family assign you an animal too?” You asked him, your eyes getting caught on a kiosk of Christmas ornaments as you continued your journey through the mall.

“What?”

“Like how my parents decided when we were born that Chenle’s a bear and I’m a honeybee,” you explained, quickly looking back over to Jisung. “Did you ever have an animal or something that was like yours?”

He scrunched his nose as he thought, then shook his head. “No, not that I can remember. I always had a bunch of different stuffed animals.”

“I think you look like a hamster,” you informed him. “Especially when you do that with your nose.”

“Do what with my nose?” He questioned, his nose unintentionally twitching and scrunching up again as his eyes flitted around nervously.

You giggled, squeezing his arm tighter as you couldn’t help but coo over how cute he was. “That!”

He covered his nose with his hand, and though it obstructed half his face, you could tell he was pouting behind it.

“I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious, I’m sorry!” You apologized, grabbing his hand and trying to pull it away from his face. “I think it’s really cute!”

He stubbornly kept his nose concealed. “You still haven’t told me what it is…”

“You just scrunch up your nose sometimes, like this—” You imitated it, doing your best not to make it look like you were mocking him. “Seriously, it’s adorable! Please don’t ever stop, I might die!”

Jisung’s eyes crinkled and he dropped his hand back down as he chuckled. “Well we can’t have that.”

Your phone buzzed in your hand then, and you saw that it was your brother calling. “Mm, hold on, it’s Chenle.”

“Hey, where are you guys?” Chenle asked on the other end.

“We’re still on the first floor,” you told him. “By the pretzel stand. Where are you?”

“What have you two been doing? I’m on the third floor; I’ve been through the whole mall already. I’m done,” he scoffed. “Stay there, I’ll come to you.”

“I had to get my hard drive first, remember? You got a head start.”

“Anyway, are you done?”

“No, I have a couple more people to find gifts for.”

“Alright, hold on, I see you.”

You craned your neck looking for Chenle, still with your phone to your ear. “Damn bitch, how many old ladies did you take out on your way here?”

“Only two,” Chenle’s voice came through your phone and from directly beside you at the same time. He was loaded up with shopping bags on both arms.

You jumped out of your skin before rolling your eyes and hanging up the call. “Did you see a place that sold bath bombs and stuff?”

“Yeah, second floor, directly to the left off the escalator.”

“That’s my next stop, SooSoo loves that stuff,” you declared.

“There’s a baseball specialty shop on the third floor,” Chenle stated, eyes lingering on where you were still holding onto his friend’s arm. “If you want to go check it out, Jisung?”

You perked up, giving him an enthusiastic smile. “That sounds awesome! You totally should.”

Jisung turned to Chenle and nodded. “Yeah, sounds cool. Let’s do it.”

“I’ve still got a couple people on my list, so I’ll call you guys when I’m done so we can meet up and go,” you said, reaching for your purse that was still on Jisung’s shoulder. He handed it back to you, and you hurried off to take care of your final errands.

Back at the house, you watched on with bated breath as Jisung performed his laptop exorcism. The screen turned on, which already was good news. After a few more progress bars, you eventually saw your homescreen and looked at him with guarded hope.

“I still need to transfer your personal files back over. And you won’t know if it worked unless it just never gets possessed again, but…” Jisung gestured to your laptop with a certain finality.

“Ahh, thank you! Thank you!” You cheered, hugging him.

“O-Oh, you’re welcome,” he mumbled, hesitantly hugging you back.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 24

Christmas Eve was ushered in with a fresh snowfall overnight, and maybe the Christmas spirit finally possessed you, because all three of you were outside playing in it like little kids. A rather lumpy snowman had already been built and decorated with various rocks, sticks, and kitchen utensils. Snow angels were scattered around, and Chenle had just thrown the very first snowball, hitting Jisung squarely in the back of the head.

You laughed incredulously as the pitcher turned around and calmly started packing snow between his hands.

“Are you stupid?” You snickered at your brother, who was also preparing another snowball.

Before he could finish readying that one, Jisung wound up and launched his snowball, nailing Chenle in the face. You weren’t even focused on your brother as he desperately wiped the snow off his face with both hands, however, your eyes still watching Jisung, who was chuckling to himself. You’d been too preoccupied at the Christmas tree farm to really watch any of their snowfall fight that had happened there, and obviously hadn’t gone to any of Jisung’s games before, so this was the first time you’d seen him really use any of his pitcher skills. While it wasn’t a proper pitch, the practiced ease and skill that he clearly possessed even in doing something as silly as throwing a snowball was admittedly really attractive.

Chenle had taken his loss and grabbed a stick to start writing something in the snow, a good distance away from where you and Jisung were, his back to the two of you.

Stepping deliberately closer to Jisung, you said, “That was really cool, Jisung.”

He fidgeted with making sure his beanie was down over his ears. “Ah, I mean, it wasn’t a real pitch or anything—”

“Then can you teach me how to pitch for real?” You requested sweetly. “I’m very into baseball these days.”

“Uhm, y-yeah,” he agreed, clearing his throat and nodding. He stooped down to pack more snow between his hands into a round sphere, then held it out for you. “Here, that should be the right size.”

You graciously accepted it, then looked at him expectantly.

“Do you prefer to throw with your left or your right?” He asked.

You held up your dominant hand holding the snowball, and he nodded.

“Okay, uhm, you should stand with your feet like this.” He demonstrated the correct positioning himself, and you copied.

Jisung went through the basic steps with you, making minor adjustments here and there, and you were actually finding it sort of interesting, outside of the cute boy teaching you something he was passionate about. Learning a new skill or something to that effect. When he was showing you how to actually move your arm when throwing, you were genuinely trying to do it per his verbal instructions, but apparently there was still something wrong with the way you were doing it. And so he walked behind you, covering your gloves hand with his. You could feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, and his other hand grabbed your opposite shoulder to correct your posture as he manually moved your arm through the correct motion. Slow at first, talking through it.

“Feel how it’s different than what you were doing?” He asked, doing it again, a little faster this time.

But you were long gone, your brain white noise and your vision blurring a little bit (but that was mostly due to the cold wind hitting your eyes). He still smelled like cinnamon, and you wanted to listen to his voice all day. Jisung could read you a car manufacturer’s manual for all you cared.

“Mm, mhm,” you agreed absentmindedly.

“Alright, I’m going to step back and let you throw your first pitch.” He patted your shoulder and did just that, leaving you feeling even colder.

You momentarily panicked as you grappled in your short-term memory for anything that he had just been saying. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, deciding that you would probably suck anyway, and to just fucking do it. Trusting your gut and muscle memory of what Jisung had just been walking you through, you did your damndest to throw that snowball in something akin to a pitch.

Amazingly, the snowball actually hit the trunk of the tree that you had been aiming for, and you stared at it in disbelief, hands hanging down by your side. Jisung clapped, the sound dampened by his gloves, but his cheers were surprisingly upbeat for how soft-spoken of a guy he was.

“Wow! That was a really good first pitch!” He congratulated you, holding up both his palms for you to high-five. “So awesome…”

You high-fived him, but stayed holding onto his hands, wide smile overtaking your features. “Thank you.”

“I—You’re welcome.” He held onto your hands too, throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed.

“Jisung!” Chenle yelled out, reminding the both of you of his presence. “Can you get my phone? I made Daegal out of snow and I want to take a picture. It should be charging on my bed.”

“Yeah!” Jisung called back. He gave you a regretful look, letting your hands go to trudge back up to the cabin.

Rounding on your brother, you stomped over to him, observing the admittedly cute snow-Daegal for a moment before addressing him.

“You can get your own phone,” you scoffed, crossing your arms.

“I thought I might hurt Jisung’s feelings if I told him to leave to his face,” Chenle replied nonchalantly. He looked at you over his large-framed sunglasses. “I feel like I have to warn you, as your big brother—”

“By ten months.”

“—about Jisung.”

You gave him a sour look, knowing that he knew that you wouldn’t be able stop yourself from asking a follow-up question to a statement like that. “What about him?”

“I know what you’ve been trying to do this whole time. You’re not ‘very into baseball,’ you’re into Jisung.”

You immediately got fired up, hands balling into fists at your sides. “Don’t you dare start pulling the ‘my friends are off-limits’ card now. You’ve never—”

“Hey, I like Jisung.” He held up his hands defensively, an amused smirk on his face. “If I had to make a tierlist of my friends for you to date, he’d be like, the only one in S-tier.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Do you have a fantasy draft of boyfriends for me too?”

“I’m genuinely trying to help you here, alright?”

“So, what? Does he have a girlfriend or something?”

“Not exactly…” Chenle sighed. “Right before we left, during finals week, he met this girl in the library and just absolutely fell head-over-heels, okay? Like, he’s never even looked once at all the girls who show up to his games, but this one says three words to him and gives him some candy and he’s a goner. I don’t get it.”

It took everything in you to suppress your giddy grin and instead cock your head, playing dumb as you asked, “Wait, did he even get this girl’s name?”

“No, he never got a chance since they were both working on finals stuff,” he answered. “Anyway, I’m just trying to warn you. You’ve got to compete with the romanticized version of mystery library candy girl that he has in his head.”

“Mm. Tough competition,” you nodded with mock solemnity.

“I’m serious, Y/N. He called me at like midnight walking back from the library to tell me about it. He’s got it bad.” As if suddenly realizing everything he had just told you might dampen your spirits, Chenle’s entire demeanor shifted, and he gingerly patted the top of your head. “But uh, you’ve totally got this. I’m rooting for you, lil sis.”

“Right. Thanks… big bro,” you replied with intentional stiltedness, softballing a punch to his shoulder.

That night after dinner, you all sat down around the Christmas tree for your family tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve. You sifted through the presents under the tree, some of which were ones that had been shipped here ahead of time by your parents or other extended family, others from Chenle.

“Hmm… one or two?” You asked, your eyes on two particular gifts.

“One,” Chenle and Jisung answered unanimously.

You grabbed the one that had been under your left hand, returning to your seat next to Jisung. Chenle had already picked his box, and fished out a gift bag, plopping it in front of Jisung. He seemed surprised, blinking down at it.

“But—”

“I got you more than one gift, dummy,” Chenle cut him off, already guessing what his confusion was about. “Go ahead.”

“No!” You stopped Jisung. He looked at you with alarm as you snatched the gift bag away, putting it back under the tree and replacing it with a different, much smaller one instead. “Open mine.”

Jisung looked even more confused, and slightly betrayed. “I thought we agreed we weren’t doing gifts…?”

“Yeah, but then I saw this and…” You smiled sheepishly. “Just open it!”

Shaking his head, he pulled out the tissue paper, then removed the object at the bottom of the bag. It was wrapped in more tissue paper to protect it, which he carefully wrapped, revealing the ornament that you had bought yesterday while you were split up. It was in the shape of a hamster popping out of a present box, and as soon as you saw it at the mall kiosk, you knew you had to get it for him.

Jisung turned it over his hands, looking up at you still a little confused, but with a smile. “Wait…”

“It looks just like you!” You giggled, taking it from him to hold it up next to his face. Aiming your next question at Chenle, you asked, “Doesn’t it?”

Your brother started laughing, reaching forward to tweak one of Jisung’s cheeks. “Ha, she’s right. How adorable.”

Jisung pushed his hand away, rolling his eyes. His gaze softened when he looked back over at you. “Thank you, Y/N. It’s great.”

“Hang it up!” You urged, giving it back to him and gesturing to the tree.

He got up on his knees to reach forward and affix it to an empty branch, between a bear ornament and honeybee ornament.

“Okay, Y/N, you next,” Chenle directed.

Ripping the wrapping paper off the small box, you were met with a small jewelry box, and took that lid off. Inside was a pair of ornate, bejeweled earrings, a little flashy for your taste. You checked the card.

“Great-Aunt Ying,” you announced, and Chenle let out an ‘ahh’ sound in understanding. You put the lid back on the box and set it aside. “SooSoo will love those.”

“Who’s that?” Jisung asked curiously as your brother started unwrapping his present. “Not your great-aunt.”

“Sooyoung, my roommate since freshman year,” you explained. “She’s also like, my best friend. And those earrings aren’t really my style, but I know she would wear them like, all the time, so I’ll just give them to her when we get back.”

Chenle’s box was a bit larger than yours had been, and was similarly stylish. He turned it over to shake the lid off and make the contents fall out all in one go, catching the fabric that fell out in his hand. Holding it up, it was a tie in what looked like a nice material, a monochrome and not exceptionally busy pattern on it.

“Another tie, wonder who it’s from…” he snorted, picking up the card. “Oh, Great-Uncle Feng. Surprise.”

“Does he think you’re eating all the ties he gives you or something?” You snickered.

“I think he’s so old he forgets he’s given me a tie before and thinks I don’t own any.” Chenle then offered it out to Jisung. “You need a tie? If not, I’ll ask the other guys.”

“I would need a suit first…” Jisung admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Chenle stared at him in disbelief, then sighed. “Okay, so we’re getting you a suit when we get back to school.”

“What do I need a suit for?”

“Don’t you have formal stuff that you have to go to for baseball? Awards or press conferences or something?”

“That’s maybe once a year. I just rent a suit!”

“Jisung, don’t say another word, you’re going to kill me.” He put a hand over his heart as if it were going to give out any second.

You chuckled at their antics, starting to clean up the trashed wrapping paper. “Christmas movies?”

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 25

You felt like a little kid, unable to sleep the night before Christmas morning. It was after midnight, so it technically was Christmas now. And even thought you knew that neither Santa nor you parents were coming, you were still oddly giddy. You had already videocalled Sooyoung to recap the developments of the day, but you were still replaying everything in your mind, kept up with thought of Jisung. How it felt being that close to him when he was teaching you to throw a snowball, the information that apparently he was just as smitten with you after the library as you were with him. Even Chenle’s unofficial blessing put your mind at ease—not because your brother determined who you dated, but he knew Jisung better than you did and was brutally honest, so if he said that he liked Jisung for you, you knew he meant it.

Pushing your covers off, goosebumps immediately popped up on your legs that were now exposed to the cool air. You treaded over to the bathroom door. The light was off, but you still knocked. When there was no response, you opened it. You didn’t stop there, however, continuing on to the opposite door, which you knew led to Jisung’s room. Taking a deep breath, you knocked softly on that one too.

You heard the rustling of sheets and quiet padding of footsteps before the door handle twisted and opened, Jisung on the other side. He looked down at you, nose scrunched up in bewilderment.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked, rubbing one of his eyes behind his glasses.

“Yeah. Uhm, sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, I uh, I couldn’t sleep, actually.”

“Me neither.”

“Oh.”

There was a pause, and you fidgeted with the ends of your longsleeve. “Do you want to hang out for a bit? Since we’re both up…”

“Oh! Y-Yeah, sure.” He stepped back from the door, motioning you in. “Uhm, come in.”

“Thanks.” You stepped inside, and he closed the door behind you.

The bedsheets were rumpled on one side, so you sat down on the other side, pulling the blanket over your chilly legs. Jisung watched you, frozen halfway from the bathroom to the bed for a second.

“I’m cold,” you told him, turning your phone on.

“Of course, right,” he breathed out, snapping out of his trance.

He climbed under the covers as well, putting a headphone in his ear opposite from you and pressing play on a video on his phone. Curious, you peeked over at his screen to see what he was watching. It looked like a bunch of clips of professional baseball pitchers.

“It’s my favorite pro pitcher,” Jisung blurted out, pausing the video again. He had apparently noticed you snooping at his screen. “Well, that’s currently active. He’s a lefty, and he does this thing on some of his pitches where he gets this spin and—”

You blinked as he had abruptly cut himself off in the middle of his sentence. Tilting your head, you asked, “What? Why’d you stop?”

“You’re not really interested in baseball, are you?” He questioned, turning his eyes down to his lap. “You’re just being nice.”

“Hold on—”

“It’s okay, you can go back to what you were doing, I don’t want to bore you.”

“Jisung,” you giggled, turning over on your side fully to face him. “You really haven’t figured it out?”

His brow furrowed and he pouted slightly as he seemed to genuinely be confused. “Figured what out?”

“I’m interested in baseball because I’m interested in you,” you said bluntly, watching the gears turn in his head before his eyes widened.

“Wh—Oh. Really?”

“Mhm. But Chenle did warn me that apparently you’re head over heels for some mystery girl that you met in the library during finals week who gave you candy,” you teased, letting out a wistful sigh. “So I have no chance…”

Jisung dropped his phone to cover his face with both hands, letting out a noise of embarrassment from deep in his chest, shaking his head. “Oh my God…”

“I told SooSoo about you too,” you informed him. “After the library.”

He opened his hands to peek at you meekly. “Really?”

“Really.”

Jisung glanced upwards, and you snickered.

“Chenle’s not like that. He’s not going to care unless you’re a dick to me.”

“Because only he gets to be a dick to you?” He joked, slowly removing his hands all the way from his face.

“Yep. Same for the girls he dates. Nobody gets to be a bitch to him except me.”

“So, now what?” He asked nervously, glancing around the room.

“Now, you’re going to finish telling me about your favorite pitcher,” you stated, scooting over until you were snuggled into his side, head resting on his shoulder so you could see his phone screen better.

Jisung grabbed his earbud case from the nightstand, bringing the other one out. He offered it to you, and you put it in as he turned his phone back on. He restarted the compilation, but didn’t press play yet, instead launching back into his explanation from before, excitedly talking faster now.

“So this is Hwang Myungjun. Like I said, he’s my favorite pitcher that’s in the league right now. He’s a lefty and—you’ll see it in this video, but—he does this really cool thing on some of his pitches where he can get this certain spin on the ball and…”

You listened to him go on and on with a smile on your face, breathing in the warm smell of cinnamon.

In the morning, you stirred a little, sighing and pulling the covers up to your nose. Covers that smelled like cinnamon. Opening one of your eyes, you were greeted with Jisung already wide awake, sitting up against the headboard, staring at you from behind his glasses.

You rubbed your eye and yawned. “Christ—Did you sleep at all?”

“Yeah, we get up early for baseball conditioning, so I don’t really sleep in even on days off.” He rubbed the back of his neck, ears turning pink. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Good morning…”

“Morning,” you mumbled, yawning again. “Sorry for falling asleep here.”

“It’s okay. Sorry for talking you to sleep.”

“No, it was nice. I like your voice.” You pushed yourself into a half-sitting position. Pecking his cheek, you added, “Merry Christmas.”

His face flushed as he smiled down at his hands. “Merry Christmas…”

Climbing out of bed, you stretched your arms over your head, then wrapped them around yourself. “Anyway, I should emerge from my own room. Just because he doesn’t care if we date doesn’t mean Chenle needs to think something other than watching baseball compilations happened in here last night.”

Jisung squeezed his eyes shut and nodded his head. “Good idea.”

“See you in a few.” You bid him a momentary farewell, opening the door to the adjoining bathroom.

Shuffling back into your own bedroom, you almost screamed when you saw a figure sitting on your bed in the dark. You grabbed for the closest thing in your reach, a candlestick on the dresser next to you, ready to swing. The figure turned on the lamp next to the bed, and you saw that it was Chenle, still contemplating hitting him anyway. You decided to set your weapon down, however.

“What the fuck?!” You hissed, stalking up to your bed and grabbing a stuffed animal to chuck at him instead. He caught the stuffed bee, holding it to his chest as he smirked at you.

“Something you want to tell me?” He raised an eyebrow. “About where you’ve been?”

You followed his line of sight between you and the bathroom door that you just came out of. “What are you, the piss patrol? Can’t a bitch pee in peace around here?”

“Toilet didn’t flush, sink didn’t run,” he immediately shot back. “Also, I’ve been in here for the past hour.”

“Don’t be weird about it—” You held up a finger in his face threateningly, and a victorious grin immediately spread across his features. “Jisung and I talked about how we felt, and I fell asleep in his room. Nothing else, okay?”

Chenle gave you a look that told you he didn’t entirely believe you, but he didn’t press you any further. “God, how am I going to choose between being your brother of honor and his best man?”

“We haven’t even gone on a date!” You grabbed a pillow and tried to pushed it over his face to shut him up. He narrowly saved himself from being smothered, cackling as you resorted to smacking him with it instead. “As if I’d even ask you to be my whatever you just made up! You’ll be lucky if you even get an invite, I swear to—”

The door to your room was thrown open from the bathroom, Jisung looking around the room wildly. “Y/N! Are—”

You stopped your assault on your brother to smile breathlessly at Jisung. “Oh. Hi.”

“I heard you yelling, I wanted to make sure…”

“I’m fine,” you reassured him. “Thanks, Jisung.”

“I know!” Chenle announced loudly. “I know everything, Park Jisung! Last night, you and my little sister—”

You succeeded in smothering Chenle this time, muffling whatever obnoxious things he was about to spew.

After breakfast and opening presents in the morning, Jisung excused himself to go call his parents. Chenle tsked, turning the gaming console on to start up one of the new games he’d gotten and tossing you a controller.

“He tell you how he ended up coming with us?” Your brother asked, his gaze on the screen.

“Yeah. His dad goes on a cruise and his mom is with his stepdad’s side of the family. So he would’ve just been at the school if you didn’t bring him,” you replied, only paying half-attention to the opening cutscene.

“At least ours pretend to make an effort,” he scoffed. “His mom didn’t even offer to pay for his plane ticket.”

“Hm?”

“His mom and stepdad live on the other side of the country. They technically ‘invite’ him to Christmas every year, but he’d have to get himself there and back.”

“So it’s hardly a genuine invite.”

“And you know what his stepdad does?”

“What?”

“CEO of that logistics company that Mom and Dad are always talking about. The big one.”

“Shit, really? And he can’t be bothered to pay for his wife to see her own son once a year?”

He clicked his tongue. “Apparently not.”

A few levels into the video game, Chenle’s phone lit up with a text. He paused the game, and sighed upon reading the message. “Jisung says we can eat lunch without him. He’s suddenly not feeling well.”

You winced. “I take it his phone calls didn’t go well.”

“You go check on him. You can handle crying people better than me.”

You nodded in agreement, getting up from the couch. Outside of Jisung’s bedroom door, you listened carefully first, just in case he was still on a call. It was quiet, and you knocked softly.

“Jisung?” You called out. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away.

Opening the door, you saw him laying on the bed on top of his covers, his back to the door. You stayed in the doorway, asking, “Do you want to be alone?”

“No.”

You sat down on the bed behind him, still giving him his space. “Do you want to talk or do you want quiet?”

“My dad didn’t even pick up,” he muttered. “And my mom—God, I got to tell her about school for all of five seconds before she started gushing about how her grandbabies are learning how to write or whatever. I’ve never even met those kids, honestly, I don’t give a fuck about them. They’re not even her grandkids, they’re her husband’s. Apparently, one of them is on a little league baseball team. When she started saying I could teach him how to pitch when I come to visit for summer, I pretended the call was dropping and hung up. ‘When I come to visit’—I live with my dad in the summer because he didn’t move away from me.”

“I’m sorry, Jisung,” you said, feeling the hurt in your heart as his voice tightened and cracked.

“It’s funny, they used to have these-these blowout fights every year about who got me for Christmas,” he sniffled. “And now that they moved on and got their new families, they couldn’t care less about me.”

“Lucky for me and Chenle, then. Because we got you this year.”

He laughed, finally rolling over to face you. He wiped at his eyes, but you still saw the tears that had run down the side of his face. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” You gently stroked his hair, brushing some of it out of his face.

Jisung scooted closer, until he could pillow his head in your lap instead, his eyes fluttering shut as you resumed your ministrations. “I’m glad you guys got me too…”

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 26

A knock on your bedroom door woke you up. It opened, and somebody who was neither Chenle nor Jisung peered in.

“Merry Christmas, sweetie,” your mother hummed lightly. “Are you up?”

“Mm, yeah,” you grunted, pushing yourself up against your pillows.

She came over to press a kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.”

“Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas,” you smiled up at her, letting her take your hand in hers. “Did you and Dad just get here?”

“A few minutes ago. Your father’s getting Chenle.”

There was a loud thunk from above you, followed by a yelp and two very familiar and similar laughs that you recognized as your families’. You chuckled as your mom rolled her eyes fondly.

“I think he was successful,” you snickered.

“We’re going out for breakfast when you’re ready,” she informed you, squeezing your hand before letting it go.

“Mmkay.” You yawned as she headed for your door. “I’ll let Jisung know.”

She paused, tilting her head. “Who?”

“Didn’t Chenle tell you his friend was coming? Park Jisung?” You pointed at the room next door.

“Oh, I thought he was bringing Mark for some reason.” She looked at you with concern. “Does Jisung like basketball too?”

“I… don’t know? He plays baseball?”

“Oh. Hm.”

“So, what are you studying, Jisung?” Your mother asked, stirring sugar into her coffee.

The five of you were at a diner in the small town at the base of the mountain, you, Jisung, and Chenle packed into one side of a booth and your parents on the other. The car ride had been filled with you and Chenle filling your parents in on your various happenings from this semester, but now your parents seemed to have zeroed in on the newcomer.

“Cybersecurity,” he rushed to answer.

Both your parents seemed impressed by that. Your dad spoke next, “And what do your parents do?”

“He’s got an athletic scholarship, Dad,” Chenle cut in before you could. You both knew what he was really asking about.

“Full ride,” you added proudly. “Baseball. He’s the pitcher.”

“Really?” Your dad’s interest was piqued—he was a bigger sports fan than your brother.

“Yes, sir,” Jisung replied.

“The school doesn’t give out full athletic scholarships frequently. You know that?”

“No, sir, I-I didn’t know that.”

Your dad took a sip of his own coffee, regarding Jisung like he was evaluating his investment portfolio. “So what makes you so valuable?”

“W-Well, uhm, I-I don’t—”

“He’s ambidextrous,” you answered for him. “He can pitch with both hands.”

“Switch pitcher?” Your dad hummed thoughtfully. “You know who the best switch pitcher in the history of the league is, right?”

“Kim Beomjin, sir,” Jisung replied firmly.

“Has he passed your test, yet, Dad?” Chenle scoffed. “Come on, stop treating him like he’s interviewing at the company.”

“I was trying to get to know—”

“You were being a bit much, dear,” your mother interrupted your dad’s attempts to defend himself.

“Alright. My apologies, Jisung.”

“It’s fine, sir, really.”

You didn’t understand why your mother had asked if Jisung liked basketball until you got back to the house. Your parents had brought a few more presents with them, including, kindly, a couple for Jisung. Except they hadn’t been expecting Jisung, they had been expecting Mark, which evident in the gifts. Both Chenle and Mark loved basketball, so the matching jerseys for their favorite team would’ve made the perfect present, if it had been Mark receiving it.

“I’m so sorry, Jisung,” your mother kept apologizing, clearly embarrassed at the mistake.

“No, I-I like basketball too, ma’am,” he tried to reassure her.

“It’s a requirement for being my friend,” Chenle helped him out. “If only I could’ve made it a requirement for being my sister.”

“If we got to pick, I would’ve made not being annoying as fuck a requirement for being my brother,” you retorted.

“Language!” Your mom scolded you, at the same time that your dad warned Chenle to “Be nicer to your sister!”

Your parents were gone again after dinner, leaving in a flurry of hugs, kisses, and promises of celebrating Christmas together properly next year. As soon as he’d shut the door behind them, Chenle turned to you, cynical disbelief on his face already.

“No way,” he chuckled and shook his head. His phone rang then, and he tutted. “Gotta take this. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Jisung was already in the living room, and you plopped down next to him on one of the couches, dropping your head into your hands.

“Your parents seem nice,” he said quietly.

“Mhm, they’re really great when they’re here,” you agreed bitterly. “Sort of makes it hurt worse. It’d be easy to just hate them if they left us all the time and changed plans last-minute and were awful when we did see them. But they do all that shit, and then I see them and it’s good. And it makes me start thinking that maybe it’ll be different, maybe they’ll really keep their promises next time.”

“I get that.” He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. “But maybe this time you just don’t get your hopes up. Might be easier on you.”

“Yeah, probably.”

With a sigh, you sat up, turning into Jisung’s side and snaking your arms around his waist. He wrapped his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head. His other hand slowly rubbed your back, encouraging you to relax into his embrace even more.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 31

The morning of New Year’s Eve, the three of you were sitting around the kitchen table silently eating breakfast scrounged together from various leftovers and the singular grocery store trip you’d taken since Christmas. Then, there was a knock at the front door, and with your cereal spoon sticking out of your mouth, you gave Chenle and Jisung a bewildered look. They, however, didn’t seem put off at all.

“Y/N, can you go see who it is?” Chenle asked you, returning his gaze to his phone screen.

“Are you expecting someone?” You retorted. “You go answer it.”

The knocking came again, more insistent this time.

“Y/N! Just get it!” Chenle demanded loudly.

“Fine! Fine!” You got up, stomping over to the front door.

Opening the solid wood door, your jaw dropped when you saw six figures on the other side, before you were tackled in a hug by the one at the front.

“Surprise!” Sooyoung squealed, nearly squeezing the air out of your lungs.

“Soo!” You gasped, hugging her back. “What are you doing here?”

“We were invited!” Jaemin informed you cheerily, grabbing you for a bear hug next.

“We’d never pass up an invite to a Chenle-Y/N party,” Jeno’s eyes twinkled as he pecked the crown of your head.

“Especially a New Year’s Eve party,” Donghyuck added.

“Since when have we been throwing a New Year’s Eve party?” You spluttered, still in delighted shock as you took in all of your friends standing in your foyer.

Mark hugged you too. “Chenle texted us a couple days before Christmas to see if we could make it for New Year’s.”

You grabbed your roommate’s hand, bewildered the most by her presence. She wasn’t friends with Chenle or any of the other guys standing there, to your knowledge. “But how did you…?”

“Jisung’s idea,” Chenle had joined you all, standing at the threshold of the foyer with the baseball player. “We figured out that Renjun and Sooyoung were in a study group together this semester and…”

You’d spotted Huang Renjun, one of Chenle’s friends from college whom you’d met several times before, hanging back on the fringes of the group. You smiled at him before beelining for Jisung, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek a couple times in your excitement.

“Thank you!” You were smiling ear to ear, so much that your cheeks hurt, but you couldn’t help it.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” Jisung returned the hug, rubbing your back. “My late Christmas present to you.”

You let him go to hug your brother next, hooking your chin over his shoulder and squeezing him so tight you felt like your chest might burst, and you hoped he could feel how much all of this—how much he—meant to you. Despite everything you may say or do to each other. “Thanks, Chenle.”

“Of course,” he whispered, hugging you back just as tight.

“SooSoo, I’m serious, not that much has happened!” You promised, laying on your bed to watch as she got settled in your room. She had of course insisted that you filled her in on every details of everything that’s happened between you and Jisung, including things that she had already heard before since you two talked almost every night. “It’s only been like a week, and my brother is literally here.”

“We all saw those little cheek kisses earlier,” she replied pointedly. “You’re at least going to kiss him at midnight, right?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, quite literally kicking your feet as you thought about it. “Onto you—You just spent three hours in a car with them, have you figured out if you want me to set you up with Jeno or Jaemin?”

“We took two cars. I was in Renjun’s with Donghyuck,” she informed you with a desolate sigh.

“Why did you—”

“He offered because he knew I didn’t know anybody except him, and I didn’t know how to explain why I wanted to go in the other one!”

“Foiled once more by empathy and kindness.”

“I’ll figure it out before we go back to school!”

“Maybe you can get one of their numbers on your own before then.”

Despite the reputations that ‘Chenle-Y/N’ parties carried amongst your friends, and your friends also bringing enough alcohol to host a full-blown kegger, the event itself was pretty low-key. You’d gotten the firepit on the back porch going, food ordered, music going throughout the house, and had already completed several different games.

You were fixing yourself a cup of eggnog in the kitchen when you spotted someone out by the firepit. Pouring another mug, you took both out with you. Jisung looked up when he heard the back door open. He smiled as he recognized that it was you, scooting over on the bench to make room for you to sit with him.

“Eggnog?” You offered a cup out to him. “I didn’t spike it, but I can go add something in if you really want.”

“No, this is perfect,” he chuckled, his laughs rising as white wisps in the cold air. “I’ve been thinking…”

“About?”

“Were the three options hot chocolate, cider, and eggnog?”

It took you a second to catch up, but once you had recalled your first night in the mountains, you burst into laughter, nodding. “Yeah, those were the three options when I made you pick a number.”

He smiled, taking a sip of his drink. “There was something else, that I was thinking about.”

“Oh?”

“Are-Are we going to kiss at midnight? Do you want to? I know we haven’t gone on a real date or anything—”

“I do want to kiss you,” you admitted. “Do you?”

He nodded hurriedly. “Yes, god.”

“You still seem… fidgety. We can wait, if you—”

“That’s not it.” He set his cup of eggnog down, and you did as well. “I want to kiss you. I just don’t want the first time I do to be in front of a bunch of our friends.”

You smirked, tilting your head curiously. “Are you asking to practice before?”

He blinked. “I don’t think I was before, but I definitely am now.”

You snickered a little, leaning in and gently touching your lips to his in a feather-light kiss. He let out a small sigh against your lips, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek and pull you closer, sealing his mouth over yours. Everything was warm, no matter the fire or the cold wind or the thick jacket you were wearing, you were being heated from the inside out.

When Jisung pulled back, he had such a dazzlingly soft smile on his face that you couldn’t help but stare, wanting to burn that image in the back of your eyelids forever. He moved to duck his head shyly, but you grabbed his face.

“I think we might need some more practice before midnight,” you teased, nuzzling your nose with his affectionately.

“Mm, of course,” he agreed humorously, kissing you again. And again, and again, and again.

⇢ 2024 hallmark movie marathon

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001

@classicroyalty @giirlfriendd @shaqs-oatmeal @sofipolii01

@tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69

@winkeuu

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rafesbangs · 3 days ago

Note

was literally just reading all your work and you write so well!! new fav blog fr, i was wondering (if you're interested) if we could have some rafe x kook bestf!reader fluff, angst kinda one-shot story? thank youuu !! <3

thank you soso much ml !! ofc ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

req! 𝜗𝜚 kook!reader sneaks out to a boneyard kegger, & bsf!rafe gets pretty protective.

c!w; fluff ! for once, bsf!rafe, soft!rafe, possessiveness, overprotective guy friend, icky males, drinking, a brief physical fight, tiny mention of blood, mostly very fluffy with a tinge of angst ! notes; i can't believe this is my first fluff work lol ! i kinda wrote loads oopsie, i hope you enjoy <3

you sneak out of your house, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards. the night air is cool against your skin as you walk through the empty streets, the buzz of the kegger ahead growing louder with each step. it’s just past midnight when you reach the boneyard, the ground is uneven, the sand mixing with beer-stained grass, and the smell of salty air mingles with the faint scent of weed and sweat.

you grab a red solo cup from the keg, its warmth feeling strange against your fingers. your eyes scan the crowd, taking in the sight of everyone laughing, shouting, and dancing—people you mostly know but can never remember their names the next day. you slip into the chaos, easing into conversations, letting the alcohol dull the edges of the night. everything’s blurry, but in a good way, like you can finally breathe.

“hey,” a voice says, way too close to your ear. you turn, finding some random boy—a touron, probably. his blue eyes are too wide, his grin a little too eager. “you’re cute. want a drink?”

you arch an eyebrow, taking a small step back. “no, thanks. i've got one,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. you’re not interested, but you don’t want to be rude.

he doesn’t get the hint. instead, he takes a half-step toward you, leaning in as though he’s trying to get into your personal space. “oh come on, don’t be like that. one drink won’t hurt.”

you cross your arms and take another step back, annoyance creeping up your spine. “i said no, okay?”

he just laughs like it’s some kind of game, and that’s when you start to feel the frustration bubble up. you don’t want to make a scene, but it’s clear this guy doesn’t know how to take a hint. every time you move away, he follows.

“seriously, i’m not interested,” you snap, voice growing more annoyed. “go find someone else.”

the boy’s smile falters, but his hand comes out to touch your arm, a move that feels more possessive than friendly. before you can even say anything else, a shadow cuts through the crowd, and you hear a familiar voice bark, “hey, man, leave her alone.”

you glance over, relief flooding you when you see rafe, your best friend, pushing through the crowd, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. his presence has always been a kind of shield for you, and this time, it’s no different.

the touron boy looks up at rafe, sizing him up like he’s about to say something smart, but rafe doesn’t wait. he steps closer, his voice colder than you’ve ever heard it. “i said, leave her the hell alone.”

the tourist smirks. “or what?”

before you can even blink, rafe’s already moved. his fist connects with the touron's jaw, knocking the boy off balance, and the crowd around you steps back, forming a ring. it’s over before you can process what’s happening—a punch here, a shove there, and the guy crumbles. rafe doesn’t stop. another hit to the stomach, and the touron goes down, blood trickling from his lip.

you’re frozen for a moment, shock settling in your chest, but when rafe finally steps back, you see the blood smeared across his knuckles and the red pooling around his nose. it’s not much, but it’s enough to make your heart stop for a second.

“oh my god, rafe,” you rush to him, your hands hovering at his shoulders as you try to figure out what to do. “are you okay? your nose…”

he swipes at it with the back of his hand, but it only makes it worse. his eyes narrow, his face flushed with anger, but his voice is rough, like he’s trying to convince himself he’s fine. “yeah, i’m fine. it’s just a scratch.”

“rafe…” you trail off, frustration mixing with your worry. you want to help, but he’s already brushing you off, turning his back to you to walk away.

“let’s get out of here,” he mutters, walking toward the edge of the party. you follow, watching him, unsure of what to say. your stomach twists, unsure whether to be relieved that it’s over or angry that he’s hurt, again, because of you.

the two of you make your way down the beach, the sounds of the party growing distant behind you. it’s too quiet, and you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

“you shouldn’t have done that,” you say finally, breaking the silence. you’re still angry, but your voice cracks with worry. “you didn’t have to get into that fight. you could’ve just-”

“and you shouldn’t have snuck out in the middle of the night to get drunk at a kegger alone!” rafe snaps, his voice rougher than usual, and you flinch at the bite in his words. “what the hell were you thinking? you know i worry about you.”

you swallow hard, the sting of his anger hitting you like a slap. “i didn’t mean to… i wasn’t trying to-”

“you’re reckless,” he interrupts, throwing his hands up in frustration, and you step back, feeling the weight of it settle deep in your chest. his words cut through you, sharper than you want to admit, and you stare at the sand beneath your feet.

“i’m sorry,” you say quietly, your voice small now, “i didn’t mean to make you worry. i didn’t-”

rafe stops walking and turns to face you, the moonlight catching the blood on his hands and the jagged split on his knuckles. he looks at you for a long moment, his expression softening just a little.

“it’s not just that,” he mutters, the words barely above a whisper. “i care about you. i don’t want anything to happen to you.”

you feel your chest tighten, your heart fluttering unexpectedly. you step closer to him, unsure of what to say, but then your arms are around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“'m sorry rafe. thank you f'caring, so much about me” you whisper into his shirt, the words soft, sincere. you feel the tension in his body for a moment, like he’s not sure what to do with this closeness, but then he wraps his arms around you too, just a little hesitantly at first, before he holds you tightly.

“don’t thank me,” he mutters, his voice breaking a little. “i’m just... doing what you deserve.”

but when you pull back to look at him, his eyes are full of something else, something that feels a little more vulnerable. you reach up, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, and that’s when you see a tear, slipping down his cheek, a quiet, unexpected crack in his facade.

“rafe…” your voice trembles. “what’s wrong?”

he swallows hard, avoiding your gaze. “it’s just… no one ever thanks me for caring. they just expect me to always be the one looking out for everyone else, but no one ever... gives a damn about me.”

you blink, heart catching in your throat. “that’s not true,” you say, pulling him back in closer, holding him tighter. “i care. i always care.”

he sniffles, his shoulders shaking just slightly as he pulls away, his expression softening but still strained. “dad doesn’t love me 's much as he loves sarah. he’s always telling me how proud he is of her. he- he never says it t'me. and i try so hard. i do everything f'him, everything to make him proud. 'm just invisible to him”

the weight of his words hits you like a punch to the gut, and you squeeze him tighter, not knowing what else to say. “’m so sorry, rafe,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “i can’t imagine what that must feel like. but you’re not invisible t'me. you never will be.”

his breath hitches, and then, finally, he lets go. tears slip down his face now, the kind he’s always kept hidden. you hold him as he breaks down, your arms around him, offering what little comfort you can.

you both sit there in the sand for a long time, the sound of the ocean surrounding you, the night stretching on like a long, quiet exhale. finally, rafe pulls back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“thanks for being here,” he says, voice still rough, but softer than before. “for… f'caring.”

you smile at him, your heart full. “always, rafe. i’m always here for you.”

when you finally sneak back to your house, you help him up to your room. in the soft glow of your bedroom light, you clean the blood off his hands, gently tending to his wounds. rafe watches you, the affection in his eyes evident as he gazes at you with a softness you don’t see often.

“y'always so damn careful with me,” he murmurs, his voice full of something unspoken.

“'ts because i care,” you whisper, holding his hand in yours, feeling the warmth between you that has always been there.

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zepskies · 21 hours ago

Text

Yeessss we love a refill. 😂

(LOLL girl no worries. You strike me as a fun drunk. Plus, the other night I had one strong glass of wine and that somehow did me in for the night. I guess that's what I get for trying a "Super Tuscan" red. 😂😂)

Aww you're amazing. Thank you so much, my friend!! 🥹 And best believe, I saw you released two parts of a new Russell story and they're already bookmarked in my TBR. 💖💖

Now, on to the rest of your lovely comments on the ESC finale!

Loved that little moment of jealousy there. How do you like tasting your own medicine, Russ? 😂

Right?! Lmao all that Reenie teasing coming to bite him in the ass.

I absolutely loved their pizza and movie date at home. And they already shared so much with each other 🥹 The fact he felt secure enough to open up to her after this short amount of time says a lot, considering Dory hasn't even told her the story yet. I love them 😭🤍

Aw I'm so glad you loved it! I felt like they needed something low-key that allowed them to reconnect and be there for each other after all the chaos. I debated if having Russ open up like this was too soon, but since she was so honest with him about her past trauma, I thought he would feel that kindred spirit connection, enough to be honest himself.

I haven't forgotten about the "oh, my brother thought I killed our dad" part of the story though. 😂😂 When I eventually write another story for this series, I want to incorporate that reveal somehow when we finally dive into Ashton Shaw in the show. (Maybe I'll read ahead in the books. 👀)

Honestly, in this day and age, it's always best to wait for renewed consent (even though I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have minded in the least lol). Loved that he recognized that and hesitated!

Right? 🙃 Exactly what I was thinking in having him hesitate, even though you're right, she would NOT have minded. 😂 I still thought that little moment of her pulling him down to join her was needed. 💜

Poor girl 😂💕 The morning after is always a tad awkward – especially if everything is still in the balance of will they/won't they and nothing *sexual* has happened yet 😅

LOL exactly. It's a bit of an odd situation all around, even though they've already shared some romantic moments. 😅💜

Absolutely adored this exchange! ❤️ Oooof, and that smut may have been my undoing for tonight! Holy hell!!! 😮‍💨🔥🌶️

Ahaha I had to research bullet sizes and everything. 😏❤️‍🔥

Honestly I'm really flattered you enjoyed the steamy parts, because I feel like smut writing is my weakest link, though I do my best. 😅😂 You write it so well, so that's an extra special compliment coming from you!

Again, she's so cute 😆🤍 I do hope they work something out. I don't think Russell would've necessarily taken the "big" step, knowing her feelings on this, if he hadn't planned to try and make it work somehow ❤️

Lolll she's trying her best to be slick! 😂 Yeah, I think Russell already knew his connection with her was different, and worth pursuing, he just wasn't sure about the reality of how it was going to work until this moment. 💜

Perfect ending, friend 🥹💚 (You know I love a bit of drama and angst in an ending lol) I loved this series so goddamn much! It fit so well with every character and gave so much that the show didn't (like that awesome family reunion of the three Shaws). Can't wait to get into the one-shots over the holidays 😍

Aww thank you! I wanted to be realistic with his lifestyle potentially posing a problem, but at the same time, both of them being willing to figure it out and try to make this work. 💕

I so appreciate you for saying that ESC felt authentic within the Tracker world, because that's something I always try to do, but it was challenging with this new show/world and how much we still don't know about the Shaw family. (But I HAD to include that reunion. 🥹)

I so hope you enjoy the little bonus one-shots whenever you get to them!!

Merry Christmas, my friend!!! I hope you and your family are having so much fun. ❤️❤️

Every Second Counts - Part 5

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him.

AN: I thought about breaking up this chapter into two parts, but for some reason it didn’t feel right. I hope you enjoy the finale! I think this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for…

Word Count: 7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, ‘90s movie reference, mutual pining and tension, and a strong dose of smut.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 5: “Damn Worth It”

You borrowed Russell’s cell to call Dory from the hospital. You let her know that Charlie was stable and resting, and that Russell was bringing you home.

You should’ve known that when you two got there, you wouldn’t have the kind of privacy you craved. Colter and Dory were waiting in his car, parked in your driveway. They met you in front of your house, where Dory pulled you into a big, swaying hug. She cried, you cried, and her brothers hung back to watch the warm scene.

Dory pulled back to get a better look at you. She hesitated to touch the bandage above your brow.

“God. Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you sniffed, wiping at your face. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Dory actually had your keys. After she handed them to you, you took in a steadying breath, and you unlocked your front door without incident this time. You invited everyone in.

Even though you told her not to, Dory began straightening up a bit for you. She had Russell take out the trash while she washed the dishes.

Meanwhile, you pulled Colter aside in the living room. You led him to sit with you on the couch.

“Can I at least give you $1,000?” you asked. It was all you had left in your savings, but the man had literally saved your brother's life, and yours as well. “I know it’s not much, compared to what your jobs usually get you—”

“Please,” Colter said. He touched your arm. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you and Charlie are safe.”

You teared up all over again, but you gave him a smile and held his hand with both of yours.

“Thank you,” you said.

Russell happened to spot the cozy little scene from the doorway. He couldn’t help staring, and trying not to frown.

When Colter caught sight of his brother loitering (and that look on his face), Colter tried to hide most of his smile. He let go of your hand, patted your shoulder and stood. You followed him to the kitchen, where he went to check on Dory. Russell filtered in behind you both.

“Hey, wanna grab some lunch?” Colter asked his sister.

She gave him a raised brow. “Wow, my brother actually wants to hang out with me instead of rushing off to the next job?”

He gave her an amused look. “I’ve got some time.”

Dory was happy to hear that, but her expression dimmed when she turned to you.

“Would you want to go? Or do you need to rest?” she asked.

“Oh, I need to get cleaned up, and then sleep for about ten years,” you said. “But you go, D. Have fun.”

She frowned. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”

“Well, she won’t be,” Russell chimed in. “I’m gonna hang out here for a bit, clean up and take little power nap myself.”

At that, Dory slowly smiled, both amused and suspicious. Her gaze slid back to you.

“Are you sure?” she asked. You read the double meaning laced in her tone.

“Yeah, definitely,” you said with a smile, and the beginnings of a warm blush. “You guys go ahead.”

There was a knowing gleam to her own smile, but Dory shrugged and gave you one last hug. She and Colter said their goodbyes to their older brother before they headed out. It left you alone in the house with Russell for the first time since this all began.

“Um, you can use the guest bathroom if you want to shower,” you told him. “Towels are under the sink, and feel free to borrow any of Charlie’s clothes if you need.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got a bag in the car with some stuff,” Russell said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “I take one wherever I go.”

“Smart,” you nodded. “Very prepared.”

A strange silence stretched between you two, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m just…gonna go clean up,” you said. “We can order some food after?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he said. He was amused as he watched you scurry off, after giving him another smile over your shoulder.

Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a small trill of nerves himself. It brought him a little bounce in his step as he headed out to his car to grab his stuff.

By the time you were done showering and drying your hair, Russell had ordered a pizza (and a side of fries). You padded out into the living room in an old college shirt and pajama shorts. He tried not to linger his gaze on your smooth, bare legs.

“Sorry, forgot to ask if you’d want something else to eat,” he said.

“Pizza is perfect,” you said. At this point, after almost a full day without food, you’d eat sliced bread out of the bag. You gave him a teasing look. “I’d ask you if you wanted a beer, but I’m afraid it’s not up to your standard.”

“Well, that’s okay. I happen to have brought a sample for you, just like I promised,” he said, with that grin of his you’d come to expect.

He retrieved a case of homebrew from his car, but you had to add some ice cubes into a tall glass before you joined him back on the couch. You poured the contents of a bottle into the glass.

“Sorry, I know this is sacrilege, but I can’t drink warm beer,” you said.

“I can’t fault you, though I didn’t really peg you for a pizza and beer kind of girl,” he said. He tipped a swig of beer into his mouth, right from a lukewarm bottle. He was a purist.

You quirked a brow at him and took another bite of your pizza slice.

“Why not?” you asked, after swallowing a mouthful of pepperoni and mushroom.

Russell shrugged. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“No, no. I want to hear this,” you said. “What, because I teach college students?”

Russell looked over at you and leaned on his elbow, resting above his knee.

“You’re a college professor with a handful of degrees,” he said. “I’ve got a GED and a give ‘em hell outlook on life.”

You shook your head at that.

“We’re different. That’s not a bad thing,” you said. “And like my brother, you’ve fought for this country. You’ve saved lives, including mine. I’d say that’s pretty damn special.”

His head tilted at that. He didn’t want to remind you that, just like you saw today, he’d taken lives too. Perhaps just as many as he’d saved. You could debate the quality of those lives, but in the grand scheme of things, he knew what he was. A trained killer.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling a familiar weight.

You didn’t like the pensive look on his face, so you aimed to distract him.

“Want to watch a movie?” you suggested.

Russell inclined his head. “Sure. What you got?”

That was how the two of you ended up finishing the box of pizza and a case of beer while laughing at Tommy Boy, of all things—one of the best '90s buddy road trip comedies of all time. Apparently Russell had never seen it before, but you enjoyed watching him experience it for the first time. He had a deep, infectious laugh that made you laugh just by proximity.

Later in the movie, the reluctant, unlikely duo of Tommy and Richard hit a deer, and tried to transport it in the car. Russell both laughed and cringed when the animal woke up and thoroughly wrecked the car from the inside. You noticed his reaction and nudged him in the arm.

Russell held in a grunt of pain when you unintentionally hit his injured shoulder, bandaged underneath his gray henley.

“What if that was the Chevelle,” you teased.

He cast you a playfully chiding look. “Woman, don’t even joke.”

You laughed and squeezed his forearm in a friendly gesture. But he thought there was more than just friendliness when you shot him that little smile. He decided to take a chance.

“Come ‘ere,” he said. He slid a hand around your waist and guided you closer until you came to lay against his side. You allowed yourself to rest against him, splaying your hand flat against the firm wall of his chest. Your heart tripped up faster, but you also relaxed more fully for the first time since you got home. You let out a long breath, and you used the remote to lower the volume on the movie a little.

“Do you think Charlie will be able to get past this?” you asked quietly. “Think he’ll be okay?”

Russell hummed as he thought back to his conversation with your brother in the hospital. Charlie was still young, but he seemed to realize what he’d done, and what he needed to change. He wouldn’t have volunteered himself for rehab if he hadn’t.

Russell brushed your arm with his thumb. “Well, I think he knows what he needs to do. If he’s anything like you, then he’ll be all right.”

Your mouth tugged upward, though you considered his words with a sigh.

“He hasn’t had it easy,” you said. “He was barely eighteen when our parents died. Suddenly he had to be an adult. In fact, he almost didn’t finish high school. Had to take care of the funeral, had to get a job, had to take care of me…and I didn’t always make it easy on him.”

Russell’s lips curved in light of your faint smile. Then, your expression dimmed.

“He pulled me out of the car,” you admitted. Russell looked down at you.

“You all were there?” he asked.

“My dad was driving. We’d just gone out to dinner as a family,” you said.

You hesitated as the scenes once again filtered through your mind. Some things were hazy. Others, you could see with perfect clarity. You remembered how your parents argued about the best way to get home while the pouring rain beat down overhead, half-drowning out their voices.

You remembered what the flash of a red stoplight looked like through the car window, with streams of water coming down, and a dead leaf stuck to the glass.

You remembered the sound of horns blaring in your ears, the crunch of metal on metal. Your mother’s scream. The feeling of being suspended, and then ricocheted painfully through time and space.

Then the smell of exhaust, and the metallic tang of blood.

“We were heading through a terrible storm,” you said, after letting out a long breath through your nose. “By the end of the night, it was just me and Charlie in the hospital.”

He’d broken his arm, but thanks to him, the only thing you really walked away with were a few cuts and bruises, and the memories of that day. They were like old scars, painful and tender at the touch.

Russell shook his head, his brows knitting together. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “And I’m sorry too. I know you understand what it’s like to lose a parent.”

The movie played on as that new weight settled between you. Russell fell into his own thoughts as he continued to rub your arm in comfort. His own past wasn’t like yours, but he did understand some of your pain.

“How much did Dory tell you about how we grew up?” he asked.

You shifted a bit, so you could see his face too.

“I know your dad took you all to a cabin in some sort of compound in the woods, when you all were still pretty young.”

“He taught us to live off the land. Drilled us, really,” Russell explained, noting your raised brows. “Yeah, he was…well, a paranoid bastard, to be frank. We still don’t know all of why, and what drove him to move us out there.”

“Dory said he was…eccentric,” you said. Russell snorted.

“He was a piece of fucking work,” he said. “Half the time I hated him, if I’m honest.”

That part was hard to admit, even if it was true. Your hand soothed across his chest, more comforting as you listened. Russell’s lips quirked. He liked that about you, that you were willing to listen without judging him, or his family. Maybe that was another reason Dory seemed to love you so much.

“But one night, it was like he snapped,” he said.

For a moment, he was lost in the memory. His father’s anger, and the damn crazy look in his eyes.

“What happened?” you asked quietly.

Russell glanced at you again. “I don’t think you wanna hear this right now.”

You shook your head. “No, I do.”

He hesitated, but that earnest look in your eyes got him. Still, he surprised himself when he actually told you. He explained it the best he could, the way he saw it in his mind’s eye.

Their mom had been missing, hadn’t come home yet. Then his dad had torn around the house like a man possessed, until he told them it was time to leave for their own safety. Dory had been scared, especially when he grabbed her, yelled at her.

That was the one thing Russell couldn’t tolerate. So he snapped, yanking the older man back and shoving him away. It was one of the first times Russell had ever defied his father.

Ashton Shaw left them then, heading out into the night and the rain. Maybe he’d realized what he was doing to his own kids, his own family.

Colter wanted to follow after him, but Russell stopped him. Being the eldest, he took on the responsibility, even if he’d been reluctant. We’re better off without him…

He was barely sixteen at the time, but Russell knew he’d seen his father arguing with someone—a man he’d seen before, talking with his mother. And then…

“I watched him die that night,” Russell said.

Your hand clenched in his shirt, reminding him that you were still in his arms, still listening. He remembered that scene, looking over the cliff to find his father’s broken body down below.

“He fell, and I couldn’t stop it,” he said. “And to this day, I still don’t know what all that was about.”

He’d been reluctant to tell even Colter that it still haunted him sometimes; that night, and the not knowing.

You pulled yourself up further so you could meet Russell’s gaze.

“I’m so sorry,” you said.

The movie had long faded into the background, but at least it gave some white noise for the next heavy beat that passed between you two. His eyes eventually fell away from yours.

“It’s old history,” Russell said at last.

“It’s not just history,” you denied softly. “It’s your life.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just hummed in agreement. He encouraged you to relax against him again, with a warm hand on your back. You settled and released another contented sigh. Even though Russell’s story weighed on your heart, you did feel closer to him. It made you feel like you understood Dory better too, and even Colter.

Russell rubbed your arm. “You doin’ okay? You’ve had a long day.”

“Day and night,” you agreed. Your eyes closed against your will. “But, yeah…I think I’m okay now.”

At that, he smiled. He laid a kiss on your forehead.

“Good,” he said.

A few minutes later, Russell heard your soft, deeper breaths in sleep. He chanced grabbing a throw blanket laid over the back of the couch. He managed to toss it over your body, but he made sure it covered you. You shifted in your sleep and curled up more comfortably against him.

Russell smiled down on you fondly. He’d learned a hell of a lot more about you in just the past couple of days, but ever since he met you, he’d been picking up on the important things. The things that made you the woman you were.

And he wanted more, he realized. He wanted more time with you.

That turned out to be the last real thought he had before his eyes closed on him too.

Russell didn’t wake again until the credits on the movie were rolling near the end. You were still knocked out. So he carried you, blanket and all, over to your bedroom.

He smelled the remnants of your floral shampoo and body wash in the air, likely coming from the bathroom. It was an intoxicating mix, one that had infiltrated his nose ever since you came out of the shower today.

It was only 6:00 p.m., but it might as well have been midnight. He laid you down toward the middle of the bed. There was still space on the other side. Very tempting.

She did offer, he thought, remembering what you’d said at the hospital. And yet, he hesitated.

Before he could make a decision, you made it for him. Your hand reached out to hook in his shirt.

Russell looked down at your sleepy smile.

“Get over here,” you said, tugging him downward. He chuckled and wrapped his hand around yours. He allowed you to guide him over, and he somehow managed to roll onto the other side of the bed without crushing you.

“Reflexes like a cat, I tell ya,” he quipped.

You giggled softly. He took off his first layer of defense (his pants), leaving him in his henley and boxer briefs. He settled into bed behind you and slipped an arm around your waist. He fit in snug against your back.

“Mmm,” he sighed. His lips pressed behind your ear, smiling there. “Feels nice.”

“Mhmm,” you agreed.

He couldn’t see your smile, but you held his arm in place. For the first time in a while, you weren’t alone.

In the early morning, you woke up to warmth and closeness. The man in your bed snored lightly, mouth parted in sleep while he faced you. You smiled.

How could a man who felt dangerous, in more ways than one, also make you feel safe? It was a wonder. Though when an idea hit you, you carefully slid out of bed.

Russell eventually roused in his own time. He blinked awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stretched out his limbs in your very comfortable bed. This sure beat rusty motel springs.

He realized that he was alone in the room, but he heard you puttering around the house. He allowed himself to doze some more.

A few minutes later, you returned to greet him with a couple of mugs, drawing him back into the waking world with the rich smell of coffee.

“Aww yeah, that’s the stuff,” he said. He groaned as he slowly sat up.

You laughed and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he said. His voice was deeper and rougher with sleep, washing down your spine pleasantly.

He accepted the mug you offered him. He took a sip and hummed in pleasure at its bold flavor. It wasn’t as sweet as he usually liked it, but it was exactly what he needed right now.

“I just did a little sugar and creamer. That okay?” you asked.

“It’s good,” he nodded. And you looked good, he noticed, with your bed-tousled hair and an open robe over your tank top and little shorts.

“Do you want to meet Dory and Colter for breakfast?” you asked. “Dory texted me this morning.”

Russell’s brows shot up.

“Colt stuck around?” he asked.

“Yeah, Dory asked him to stay at her place last night,” you said. Russell hummed in response.

A bit of an awkward lull fell between you. You’d felt bolder yesterday in the hospital, but now, you weren’t entirely sure what you were doing with a man who just slept somewhat-but-not-altogether platonically in your bed.

“Um, I’ll just…get ready then,” you said, pointing to the bathroom. “You…take your time.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.”

He peeled back the covers and climbed out of your bed, away from the sheets that smelled like you.

You watched him go when he headed across the hall back to Charlie’s room. You sighed and beat your hand against your own forehead in frustration. What the hell am I doing?

You’d literally invited him into your bed last night, but he hadn’t done anything more than hold you while you slept. It was incredibly kind, and it said a lot about him, despite his rough-around-the-edges exterior. You were just a little disappointed that he’d been a perfect gentleman about it all.

You rolled your eyes at yourself. What did that say about you?

You shook your head and resolved to freshen up. There was still a cut that the ER nurse covered with a butterfly bandage above your brow. You cleaned it up and applied a new bandage. Then you put on some makeup to cover the ugly bruise on your cheek and the dark circles that lingered under your eyes.

God, look at me. You actually wouldn’t blame Russell for not being into you enough to make a move.

A bit disheartened, you changed out of your pajamas to slip on a nice, but comfortable dress over your bra and underwear. Afterward, you paused to stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. What exactly do you want here?

“Hey, uh—” Russell’s voice startled you, making you flinch. Maybe you were still jumpy.

He raised an apologetic hand. “Sorry. Just thought I’d ask if you want some toast or something. I don’t think my stomach can wait ‘til we meet up with Dory.”

You smiled faintly. “Sure, go ahead. Whatever’s there, you’re welcome to.”

Russell paused, tilting his head. There was something off with you. He saw it, and felt it.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away.

Russell’s spidey senses began to tingle. He approached you and laid a hand on the counter, inches from yours.

“You sure?” he said. He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully.

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile.

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped.

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you. Instead, his hand drifted down to your neck, cradling your jaw. His thumb brushed over your lower lip this time, smudging your lipstick a little. Your eyes met his, but they’d already lowered, to the path of his hand. You were tempted to nip at his thumb, or better yet, suck it into your mouth.

Perhaps he read the thought crossing your face. Because when those darkened eyes flicked up to yours, he finally bowed his head to kiss you.

You took in a deep breath, and you melted into his mouth with a moan of wanting. A craving from the depths of your heart, finally being fulfilled.

You didn’t let yourself think anymore. You gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. He cupped the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as he deepened the kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, and you let him in. You met his every kiss with the same fervor, claiming him right back, demanding just as much.

Your hands slid up his chest and helped him shrug off the green jacket first, then his shirt (Led Zeppelin this time). He hooked an arm around your waist and brought you flush against him, so he could turn you around and walk you back to the bed.

You clung to his bare shoulders and savored the feeling of his warm, calloused hands burning up your thighs and ass, bunching the skirt of your dress. You helped him get it over your head and toss it onto the floor along with his clothes.

As he held you by the waist, his gaze dipped for a moment to take you in, from bare thighs and hips and lacy panties, all the way up to your breasts cupped in your bra. Through panting breaths, you smiled and blushed at the heated depths of his green eyes. You felt like your heart was beating in and out of rhythm.

But you managed to get a hold of your nerves long enough to drag your hands down his chest, down to his belt. You unclipped it for him and took your time in sliding the entire belt out of its loops. Then you let the brown leather fall to the floor.

Russell raised a brow at you, smiling. Taking your challenge for what it was, he unbuttoned his jeans himself and aimed to step out of them, but he had some trouble when one of the pant legs got caught around his ankle and sock-covered foot.

“Shit,” he muttered as he stumbled a little. “Hold on.”

Unable to help a small giggle, you grabbed his left arm to help steady him. He hissed in pain, but he cleared his throat to cover it. You gasped as you realized what you’d done. You noticed then that he had a bandage tightly wrapped above his elbow, right below one of his tattoos.

“What’s this?” you asked in concern. You held his arm with both hands. “Did you get shot? Did you get this looked at when we were at the hospital?”

Russell staved off your questions with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay. This is old, just still healing up,” he said.

You frowned up at him. “You got stabbed, shot, what? When did this happen? I thought you worked in private security.”

“A couple months ago. I got, uh, grazed. Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Sometimes the job gets a bit dicey.”

He could tell though, that you weren’t going to let it go easily.

“Let me see,” you said, trying to peek under the bandage. Russell laughed and gathered you into his arms to stop your attempts. Your concern warmed him, but it wasn’t necessary.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. I promise. Can we focus on the fun part, here?” he said.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but Russell saw the testiness in your eyes. He dipped down to kiss you, swallowing whatever snippy remark you were about to make.

You weren’t the only one giving into a craving here. Russell’s was bone-deep, molten in his blood, and getting to see you, to feel your soft body under his hands was already so much better than he’d imagined. His hold tightened on your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin.

A shudder ran up your spine at his touch. You circled your arms around his neck and let him continue ravishing you, then laying you down onto the bed.

While you were careful about avoiding the bandage, your hand did drift down his arm, and further still, to palm at the straining bulge pressing against you. And Jesus Christ, did it feel generous. He grunted at your touch and paused with his lips against your jaw.

“Well hey there, cowboy,” you said, adopting a more sensuous tone. “I had a feeling you’d be packing. What’s that, a .45, or a 38 Special?”

Russell’s eyes blinked wide. Then he erupted with deep laughter that made his shoulders shake. Aside from throwing a punch, your brother must’ve taught you something about guns too.

“Well thank you, kindly,” Russell said, putting on a bit of a southern drawl, just to tease you. “But you’re about to find out, naughty girl.”

You giggled as he began to kiss your neck, languid and sloppy. He blazed a wet trail down the column of your throat and between your breasts. His beard rasping against your skin made you shudder a little, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, you quite liked that a lot.

He slipped a hand underneath you to unclip the black lace. You arched into him so he had easier access.

He slid the bra from your body and tossed it somewhere behind him. Just as he’d imagined, you had beautiful tits. His lips explored each of them in turn, squeezing supple flesh and rolling your sensitive, hardened nipples with his tongue and fingers.

It was a prequel, you thought, for what talents that mouth might have further down. You had to moan just at the idea, your fingers clenching in his hair, but also at the sensations he was drawing from your body wherever he touched. The man clearly knew what he was doing.

He traveled lower still and laid slow, occasionally nipping kisses across your stomach, hips and thighs. His fingers hooked around your panties and lowered them down your legs. You felt his warm breath panting against your thigh. You glanced down at him and tensed in anticipation.

“Still good?” he checked, squeezing your hip. You smiled and reached for his hand. Russell gave it to you, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand in affection.

“I think I’m about to be,” you said cheekily.

He smirked. His other hand smoothed up the inside of your thigh and slipped past your folds, finding wetness that already coated his digits.

“Goddamn. You’re soaked,” he said, just a hint teasing. “Bet if I put my mouth on you, you’d fuckin’ drown me.”

Again, he stopped whatever smart quip you were about to levy at him next when his fingers found your clit. You let out a gasping moan instead.

He decided that he already loved that sound. He endeavored to pull it from you, again and again when he began working you open with his fingers and pumping them inside you. He enjoyed seeing you writhe and arch against his hand. Your hands squeezed his arms, his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself.

His thumb circled and strummed your clit in a rhythm only he could hear in his head, until you couldn’t help biting your nails into his shoulders when you came. You shuddered your release as your core throbbed with warmth and slick around his fingers.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he said. His voice rasped deep with arousal. “Wouldn’t even mind if you did drown me.”

You huffed in response, unable to form speech just now.

Next time, Russell thought. He slipped his fingers out of you and licked them clean, making your eyes widen. He smirked and stroked your thigh as you came down, a shuddering mess.

After taking a second to regain your breath, you pulled him down for a kiss, both grateful and fueled by a passion you couldn’t put into words. What you felt for this man was instinctual, from the moment you saw him. And yet, it was also so much more. It was raw, and real, and maybe even beautiful.

The thought spurred you on as your hands moved with purpose down his body. Your nails caught at the waistband of his boxer briefs as you tried to roll them down. You got it halfway down his thighs, enough to let his hardened length spring free. You bit your lip at the mere sight of him. Goddamn.

Your hand slid around his cock, near its weeping head. You used the beads of wetness there to work your way smoothly down to its base. Russell’s body tensed above you, just before he groaned low in pleasure.

You pushed at his chest to have him let you up.

“Your turn, baby,” you said. It would be one hell of a challenge to get your mouth down that beautiful 44 Magnum, but you were more than willing to try.

To your surprise, Russell shook his head and guided you back down.

“Let’s pin that one for next time too. Wanna be inside you already,” he said.

You blinked, but then you nodded in breathless agreement. He kissed you deeply, devouring you with his teeth grazing your bottom lip. His tongue soon slipped out to soothe it.

“Condom?” he panted, between kisses.

“Oh, yeah. Um…bathroom, bottom drawer,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure why you were whispering.

“Okay, two seconds,” he said.

He left you in the bed, quite literally hot and bothered, and very naked. You crossed your arms over your breasts on reflex while you tried to recover. Your core was still tingling, and your heart was beating fast, though you couldn’t stamp out the smile forming on your face.

You heard the sound of foil unwrapping and clothed rustling. When he came back to the bedroom, you finally got a full picture of what you were in for. You unconsciously licked your lips as your gaze dipped down his body, and the indeed impressive package at full mast, and full display.

A grin curved his lips when he caught you staring. He climbed back onto the bed with just a bit of struggle with all the blankets coiled about. He pushed a heavy blanket out of his way, accidentally shoving it to the floor.

“Back to business,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed, and you welcomed him back, sliding your hands up his arms and shoulders. You hooked your thigh around his hip as he found his way back between your legs. Holding his bearded face in your hands, you pulled him in for another kiss that reignited you both.

He sunk his hand into your hair and treated you to another slow, deep kiss. Until your thigh tightening around his hip urged him to satisfy what you both had been wanting and waiting for.

He grabbed your thighs and angled you higher. Then he lined himself up at your entrance. Looking into your eyes, your breaths mingling together, he sheathed himself a little at a time. A keening moan fell from your lips.

He started with shallow thrusts, giving you time to adjust. But that in itself was a torturous tease. It made the coil in your lower belly start to tighten again. Pleasure began to thrum inside you, ever slowly. Your head tipped back into the pillows with a gasp.

“God, Russell, please,” you uttered. You squeezed his arms on reflex, your heels digging into his ass.

“I know, baby. Gonna fucking wreck you, I promise,” he said with a grin.

You huffed in amusement. That was a hefty promise.

Though a moan tore from your throat when he finally bottomed out, stretching your inner walls. He groaned along with you. His lips fastened to your neck as he gave you deeper thrusts.

“You feel so good,” you said raggedly in his ear, raking your fingers through his hair. You felt every damn inch of him.

“You too, baby. So damn good,” he gritted out. “Tell me what you want.”

He raised your thigh a bit higher, his fingers pressing into flesh.

“Ugh, fuck,” you gasped, as he hit a particularly delicious angle. “Whatever you want to give me.”

“You sure about that?” Russell asked, panting against your neck. Your nails dragged down his back between the muscles in his shoulders, hard enough to earn a halting groan from him.

You nodded emphatically. “Yes!”

His lips hinted at a smile. “Okay, hold on."

Before you could even respond, he pulled out of you all the way, just so he could guide you over onto your stomach. He pulled you up onto your hands and knees. As he ran a hand down the gentle slope of your back and around the curve of your ass, you breathed harder in anticipation.

“So damn beautiful,” he muttered.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. You unconsciously bit your lip as your heart couldn’t help but swell at his words. Russell met you with a look that betrayed his desire, making your lower belly tremble as well.

He parted your cheeks and slotted himself between your thighs from behind. You once again felt the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, and then pushing back in with one deep plunge. Both of you let out moans of relief at the feeling.

Pretty soon, he was pounding into you deeper and faster than before. Oh, fuck yes…

You clawed at the headboard, trying to find something to keep you stable. Russell’s arm slid around you for a solid support. You held onto him right back with one hand while he continued to drive into you, earning each and every sound coming out of your mouth. He’d finally angled you just right, so he could hit that special spot inside you with every thrust. Your pussy clenched on him in response, making him grunt in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re close. I can fuckin’ feel it,” he said, panting. He laid a biting kiss where your neck met your shoulder. You cried out in both pain and pleasure, your inner walls once again squeezing on him.

“Yeah,” you nodded, breathless. “This time, you’re gonna come with me.”

You reached back and tangled your fingers into his hair. He held you to his chest and squeezed your breast a bit roughly. You uttered a wanton sound. You dragged his hand down your body to part your folds. You used his fingers to press against your clit.

He picked up your hint, and then took control, massaging you with his fingers. There you began to tremble from the inside out. Warmth emanated from your core and spread outward, down to your toes as you came even harder on his cock.

Russell wasn’t far behind. His voice joined yours as his body locked up, and he spilled hot into the condom. You almost wished he’d come freely inside you, so you could really feel him. Regardless, your body was boneless when he lowered you down onto the bed afterward.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

He chuckled and kissed your shoulder, before he fully pulled out. Panting for breath though you both were, you managed to twist onto your side and reach a hand for his cheek. Your fingers slipped higher from there, cupping the back of his neck. Your thumb swept tenderly across his cheek, and you guided him down for a proper kiss.

Russell obliged you, his lips meeting yours plush and wet. He brushed strands of your sweaty hair away from your forehead with affection.

Somehow, that last kiss was softer than all the rest.

One thing was for sure though. There was no way you two were making it to breakfast.

“I kind of feel bad now,” you later confessed.

You and Russell were taking a few minutes just to recover under the messy sheets. He held you while sitting up against your headboard. He almost craved a smoke. You’d given him a damn workout.

He smirked at the thought. Admittedly, his mind was more on focused on the scenes replaying in his head than on what you were saying.

“Dory doesn’t get to see you guys that often,” you continued, “and who knows how long Colter will seriously wait for us to get out of bed.”

Russell’s attention drifted back to you at that.

“Come on, it’s not like they know why we’re running late,” he said. You gave him a knowing look.

“Are you kidding? They were already suspicious when you brought me home yesterday,” you replied with a laugh.

Russell grinned and rubbed your arm. He knew you were probably right, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Yeah, well. That was damn worth it,” he said.

You smiled. You rolled your head over on his shoulder, so you could see his face, but you became contemplative as uncertainty crept in. You let in a breath to gather your courage, and you decided to take a chance.

“You know, drug dealers aside, Laramie isn’t such a bad place to live,” you pointed out. “We’ve got a movie theater, a couple good outlet malls, a new Tex-Mex restaurant that just opened down the street. I’m gonna have to find a new bar though.”

Russell smiled at you. He knew what you were suggesting.

He sighed as his amusement faded.

“Look, even if I stay…” he hesitated.

He looked into your eyes and saw the vulnerability there. You were being honest with him, putting your heart into his hands. The least he could do was be honest. He covered your hand where it rested on his chest.

“If I’m on a job, I could be gone weeks at a time. I won’t be able to tell you where I am or what I’m doing. That’s gonna be hard on you,” he said.

He knew his friend Doug made it work with his wife, but their relationship wasn’t without friction because of the job he and Russell shared.

“I can handle it,” you said firmly.

“You just had a little freak out over a scratch earlier,” Russell pointed out, with a gesturing hand at his bandaged arm.

“Okay, that’s different,” you said.

You wouldn’t say it now, but there were things that still concerned you about his job. You had a strong feeling that "private security" wasn’t all it entailed. However, after what he’d done for you, after what he’d done for Charlie, you knew that Russell Shaw was a good man.

There was something good here, and you didn’t want to lose it this time. You shifted in his arms, so you could face him.

“Look, we can sit down and figure all that out,” you said. “But do you want to at least try? Or…am I reading this wrong?”

Russell stared back at you ruefully. He raised a hand to touch your cheek, grazing your soft skin with his fingers.

“No, you’re not,” he said.

In fact, what he felt already ran deeper with you than he’d like to admit. He let out a long breath through his nose.

“Okay,” he said at last. “If we’re gonna do this, let’s do it right, I guess. I’ll book a motel here in town for now. If things go well, I can…I don’t know, find an apartment.”

Your answering smile broke him down further, even as it warmed him inside. You turned over to circle your arms around his neck, and as an added bonus, pressing your bare breasts against his chest. You kissed his cheek with a happy hum. He laughed at your enthusiasm. He also accepted your sweet path of kisses that led to his lips.

He groaned when it became not so sweet, with your tongue slipping hotly against his. His hold on your hips tightened.

“Uh oh. Baby, we can’t do this now,” he chuckled, even though your hand was already wandering down his body and under the sheets. You both were supposed to be getting ready to meet his brother and sister for lunch.

“Five minutes,” you said against his lips. All the while, you were pushing him back onto the bed. You began to kiss down his chest, and lower still.

Russell snorted. Right.

But he wasn’t about to argue with you. He had a gut feeling…one that made him almost certain.

He’d found where he wanted to be.

AN: Well, then! I hope you enjoyed the "happy ending." 😘 I always get a bit sad at the end of a series, but thank you to everyone who's followed the ride on Every Second Counts. Let me know what you thought of how it all shook out here at the end between her and Russell! 💜

Read the Sequel:

Want more ESC? Read the next one-shot, Lost Time (18+):

Summary: When Russell takes longer than usual on a job out of town, you realize how hard it is to live half a life with him.

▶️ Keep Reading: Lost Time

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