#and then I say something that actually is embarrassing!

[flowersforbucky]

i got it bad

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4.9k

summary/prompt: logan can't help that he has super hearing and overhears you - wade's seemingly sweet, shy neighbor - telling vanessa what you fantasize about doing to him. believing that you won't ever act on it, he takes matters into his own hands.

or - getting yourself off on logan's abs

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, reader is afab, no use of y/n, logan's pov, porn with a little plot, male masturbation, teasing, nipple/breast play, some tit slaps, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, cream pie

Ever since Logan first met you, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his fucking head.

Which is really unfortunate for him, considering you seem indifferent to his existence.

Wade says that you're just an introvert, and that it takes you a while to get comfortable around new people, but after living across the hallway from you for the last few months, Logan is sure that you have no interest in him outside of simple, polite conversation whenever the two of you run into each other.

He first notices you from across the room when you enter Wade and Althea's apartment – his apartment now, too, he supposes. The small space is crowded, but you're impossible for him to overlook. He instantly recognizes you from the polaroid picture that Wade had showed him in the Void.

You’re greeted by Vanessa, who kisses you on the cheek and shoves a drink in your hand before dragging you over to where Logan is listening to Wade and Althea bicker about – what were they bickering about again? All he can focus on is the way your dress hugs your curves and the lipstick imprint that you’ve left on the champagne flute in your hand.

He needs to get out more. Go to a bar, get a job, maybe even try out one of those dating apps that Vanessa has suggested to him – something to get him out of this fucking apartment that he's stayed holed up in since arriving in this universe, because he should not be this flustered by a complete stranger.

“Earth to Peanut,” Wade snaps his fingers in front of Logan’s face. He barely processed anything Vanessa had said while she introduced you. Blah blah, neighbor, something something, lives down the hallway. “Jesus, did you get into the white powder under the floorboard? Your pupils are as big as saucers right now.”

“Oh, go easy on him, Wade,” Althea scolds. “It’s natural for pupils to dilate when looking at a pretty girl.”

The expression on your face matches how Logan feels – surprised, embarrassed, slightly mortified.

“You don't even know what she looks like. She could look like me for all you know,” Wade snorts.

“She brings me homemade cookies and she always smells good,” Al retorts. “I don't need to be able to see her to know that she's pretty.”

“Nice to meet you,” Logan finally speaks up with a forced smile. Leave it to his two roommates to make a simple introduction as awkward as possible. “And no, I am not high on cocaine,” he adds with a pointed glare at Wade.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Logan,” you return the sentiment with a chortle and shy smile. “And don’t worry, I never pay attention to anything Wade says.”

Yukio and her girlfriend with the long ass name that Logan has yet to memorize then walk up and gain your attention, leaving Logan wishing he could redo the entire interaction.

He spends the rest of the night hoping for an opportunity to talk to you again, and feeling disappointed when that doesn’t happen.

The next couple of months go similarly. He runs into you frequently – in the elevator, and the communal laundry room of the apartment complex, and when you’re both checking your mail at the same time.

You always greet him with a smile and ask the typical casual conversation questions – how he's liking his new job (he’s not, but he tells you it’s going fine), if Wade is staying out of trouble (no), and how Laura is doing (she’s doing great, actually), but it never progresses much past that.

As soon as the conversation starts to venture into more personal territory, you seem to shut down. You’ll make some excuse about having somewhere to be, wish him a good day, and then you’re gone.

He can’t help himself. He sees how carefree and talkative you can be with Vanessa and hell, even Wade – and he wants that. At least then he may feel a little less crazy for spending so much of his free time racking his brain for ways to get closer to you.

Maybe it’s because it has been so long since he’s had a crush on anyone, but sometimes he thinks he might be losing his mind with how often he thinks of you – your smile, your eyes, your scent, your voice, and the way that having a five minute conversation with you always leaves him feeling for the rest of the day.

That’s why when he’s walking to his apartment one evening, and hears his name come from inside your apartment, he stops dead in his fucking tracks.

God, he knows he shouldn’t listen. He knows he should keep walking, go into his apartment and close the door.

But it’s not like he has his ear pressed up against your door. It’s not his fault that he has super hearing and that the apartment building has paper thin walls.

His brain is yelling at his feet to move but they stay planted firm right where they are.

“He thinks you don’t like him, you know,” Vanessa says. Logan doesn’t need to be able to see to know that there’s a smirk on her face.

He’s tempted to cause some kind of commotion in the hallway and then dash into his apartment, just to stop Vanessa from saying whatever the hell she’s about to say.

“Logan?” You sound appalled. “Of course I like him.”

“I know that you like him,” Vanessa chuckles. “But I can see why he would think otherwise. You act like you can barely stand to be in the same room as the guy for five minutes.”

“That’s not true.” Your voice shoots up several octaves higher than normal.

Logan sends a silent prayer to whoever the fuck is listening that no one walks down this hallway in the next few minutes and sees him standing still as a statue next to your apartment door.

“It’s not that I simply can’t stand to be in the same room as him,” you continue, lowering your voice back down to its normal volume. “It’s that being in the same room as him makes me want to jump his adamantium bones.”

For a second, he really believes that his two hundred year old heart might stop beating.

“I’m fucking pathetic around him,” you huff. “Last week, I saw him pull his t-shirt off in the laundry room to put a clean one on, and ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about grinding my pussy against his abs. Something is seriously wrong with me, Nes.”

But Logan doesn’t hear Vanessa’s response, because he speed walks away while she’s still cackling. By some miracle, Wade isn’t home, so Logan darts past Althea and locks himself in the bathroom.

What the fuck, Jesus Christ, and holy shit all play on a loop in his mind while he tries to ignore the bulge that has quickly formed in his jeans.

The last words he expected to hear anyone say today were jump his adamantium bones and grinding my pussy against his abs – but the fact that he heard those words come from your mouth in your sweet voice has his cock throbbing so hard that he can't think of anything other than you doing exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about.

Images of you straddling him with your bare, wet cunt rubbing against his happy trail, getting yourself off on his body as he plays with your pretty tits –

He let’s out an audible growl and rips the shower curtain open before turning on the water – straight to his normal hot temperature, too. He knows a cold shower isn't going to do him any good right now.

Standing beneath the hot stream, he thinks of what has transpired in the last five minutes and strokes himself in his hand until warm, white liquid follows the water down the drain.

When he finishes, he stills hears your voice in his mind and gets hard again within minutes.

••••••

Logan hasn’t seen you in three days. Three days might not seem like a long time to go without seeing your neighbor, but it feels like a long fucking time for him. In fact, it’s the longest he’s gone without casually running into you since he first met you months ago.

There’s a reason for this, though – he hasn’t checked his mail in days, hasn’t taken any of his laundry down to the basement in days, and has generally tried to avoid leaving his apartment as much as he can out of fear that he’ll see you. He even went as far as to pretend to be napping when you came by with some fresh baked brownies for Althea yesterday.

He wants to see you, of course. Goddamn, does he want to see you. But after overhearing your conversation with Vanessa earlier this week, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to look you in the eye and pretend like he hasn't been making himself cum to the thought of you on top of him every time he takes a shower.

But after three days, he finds himself missing you too much to keep up his attempt at distancing himself from you.

What if he’s being ridiculous, staying cooped in this apartment to avoid you? What if you’re just down the hallway, thinking about him at the same time he’s thinking of you?

He's tidying up the kitchen when he sees the pink Tupperware container that you’d brought the brownies in yesterday sitting in the sink. The brownies were long gone – they’d all been eaten by him, Wade and Al within the same hour that you brought them over.

Taking the Tupperware back to you would be the nice, neighborly thing to do, right?

With Al already retired to her bedroom for the evening, and Wade out with Vanessa, he takes it upon himself to wash and dry the container.

It’s a Friday night, so he knows there’s a chance that you’ve got plans and might not even be home, but he still takes a few minutes to fix his hair and swipe some deodorant on before walking down the hallway towards your apartment.

As he approaches your door, he realizes that you are home. There’s light spilling from the crack at the bottom of the doorframe and he can hear low music playing inside. A mix of anxiety and anticipation sets in, but he clears his throat and knocks on your door before he can chicken out.

He hears your footsteps approaching and attempts to wipe any sign of nervousness from his face – he’s just returning your Tupperware, for Christ's sake.

“Logan,” you breathe as you open the door. “I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you greet him. He can’t help but relax at the smile that grows on your face when you realize it’s him. “What are you up to this evening?”

You lean against your doorframe, and Logan has to force himself to maintain eye contact. You’re wearing a matching pajama set – a cute pair of velvet shorts and tank top that shows more of your skin than he’s ever seen before.

“I – uh,” he stammers, holding out the Tupperware container to you. “I just thought I’d bring this back to you. They were great, by the way.”

Your smile spreads to your eyes at his compliment.

“Oh, thanks,” you beam. “I’m glad you got to have one. Wade told me that you were asleep when I came by yesterday so I figured he’d have them eaten by the time you woke up.”

“I’m sure he would have, but Al made him save one for me,” he laughs.

He tries to focus on the conversation at hand, but the fact that you look fresh out of the shower definitely isn’t fucking helping. Bare faced with the scent of your body wash and lotion on your skin, his thoughts begin to stray into dangerous territory fast.

“I don’t wanna interrupt your night, though. I’ll let you get back to—”

“You’re not,” you say quickly as he begins to step backwards. “You're not interrupting. Are you doing anything tonight? I just ordered a pizza and there’s plenty. I was gonna watch a movie, if you want…” You trail off, glancing back and forth between him and your apartment behind you.

He can't help but notice that your voice sounds hopeful.

The invitation excites him more than he cares to admit. Sure, the two of you have hung out plenty of times, but it's always been in a group setting – at one of Wade’s get togethers or movie nights, surrounded by other friends.

But never just the two of you – definitely never in your apartment.

He could never think of saying no to you. Especially not when this is what he's been hoping for since he first me you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd really like that.”

You hold the door open for him, letting him enter your apartment. Right away, he notices how different it is from the one that he lives in. Then again, there’s three people cramped into Althea’s – you're the only person who lives here, so you're able to make it entirely your own.

It’s cute, and cozy, he thinks. From your furniture adorned with throw pillows and blankets, to all of your shelves stocked with books, knick-knacks and candles, to the various plants occupying space throughout the living room, it feels endearing and welcoming right away.

“So, where’s Wade at tonight?” you ask as he ventures into the living room. He notes a large cardboard box with an untouched pizza in it on your coffee table. His stomach growls at the sight, and it hits him that he actually is fucking starving.

“He’s out with Vanessa. Fourth time this week,” he answers, turning to find you retrieving two plates from a cabinet in your kitchen. You're angled away from him, and when you raise your arms to grab the plates, your tank top lifts enough to give him a clear view of your midriff. He quickly averts his gaze, pretending to find something on your bookshelf particularly interesting.

“I’m just really glad that they’ve worked through things and seem to be happy now,” you sigh. “He wasn’t in a good place after their breakup. Barely ever left his apartment for the longest time.”

“They’ve got something special, that’s for sure,” Logan agrees.

You hand him a plate, walking past him to your couch. You toss some of the decorative throw pillows to your recliner, making room for him on the sofa. You pat the empty space beside you, an invitation for him to make himself at home.

“Who knows, maybe they'll even get their own place soon and I won’t have to share the living room with him anymore,” he says as he sits down beside you.

It’s a pretty small couch – really more like a loveseat – so it’s a snug fit for the two of you. The skin of your exposed kneecap brushes against the fabric of his jeans as you lean forward to grab yourself a slice of pizza.

“Sounds like you just want Blind Al and Mary Puppins all to yourself,” you tease. You hand him a piece of pizza and close the box before propping your feet up on the table. You lean back, looking at him with a smirk and raised brows.

“If he moves, that dog is going with him and you know it. There’s no way he’d leave her behind,” he shakes his head.

“There’s no way Althea would let him take her. She's grown to be as attached to her as Wade is. I think even you like her more than you care to admit.”

“What can I say? She has a way of weaseling herself into your heart,” Logan sighs.

“Oh, it’s definitely the tongue,” you shrug through a bite of pizza.

Logan grimaces as a vivid image of Mary Puppins French kissing Wade awake flashes through his mind, but he can't help but laugh.

You turn on some action-comedy that Logan has never heard of, and the two of you eat and take turns making comments about whatever is happening on the screen for the first half of the movie.

He tries to stay focused on the film, he really does, but every now and then you readjust your position on the couch, causing him to catch a whiff of your perfume or your thigh will brush against his and he'll have to force his attention back to the characters on the screen.

No matter how distracting he may find your mere presence beside him, he's enjoying himself. This is by far the longest the two of you have hung out together, without the additions of his roommates and other friends. He dreads the moment that the movie ends and he’s obligated to tell you goodnight before reluctantly going back to his own apartment.

During the second act of the movie, he wonders what you’re thinking - if you could possibly be feeling the same way as him – when you randomly sit forward, grab the box of the leftover pizza off of the table in front of you, and stand to take it to your refrigerator.

It's then that he picks up on an odor – not the light floral aroma of your perfume but something new. A scent that answers the question of exactly what you had been thinking about. It’s musky and pheromonal, and even though it’s been a while since Logan has been intimate enough with a woman to smell the scent of her arousal, he recognizes it right away.

When you sit back down beside him, the sweet smell washes over him again and he bites the inside of his lip so hard that he tastes blood. The wound disappears as quickly as it’s formed, but the same can’t be said for the erection that begins to strain against the confines of his boxers.

He eyes the pile of small, decorative pillows that you had tossed to the side and wishes that he could grab one to place over his lap.

The words that you’d said to Vanessa a few days ago begin replaying in his mind for the thousandth time since he’d first heard you say them, reminding him this isn’t one-sided. He may be sitting here attempting to conceal a raging hard-on by shifting his position and subtly adjusting his pants, but Logan’s heightened sense of smell tells him that your underwear are probably starting to feel as uncomfortable as his do at the moment.

Without turning his head, he risks a glance at you. Your eyes are on the movie, and your face is neutral, but your posture gives you away. Your arms are crossed over your chest, the tips of your fingernails digging tiny crescent shaped indentations into the flesh of your upper arm. You have one of your thighs crossed over the other, locked together tightly but that doesn’t stop him from being able to smell how fucking wet you are.

“You know, if my sense of smell is as good as my sense of hearing, then I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’re thinking about right now,” Logan starts, his voice low and gruff. He watches from his peripheral vision as you freeze, your form going rigid.

“But I’d really like to hear you say it.”

You turn to him, your eyebrows quirked but your face otherwise impassive.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. What exactly is it that you’d like to hear me say?” you ask innocently. You give him doe eyes that make his cock finish filling with blood.

He huffs a laugh, picking up on the way that your heartrate accelerates when you look at him.

“I'd like to hear you say what you said to Vanessa a few days ago,” he hums. “I can’t remember exactly, but I think it had something to do with you rubbing your sweet little cunt on my abs. Does that sound familiar to you?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “That doesn’t really sound like something I'd say.”

He knows you’re trying to play it cool, but there’s certain things that you just can’t hide from him – like the way your heart is beating a mile a minute and the way your nipples have pebbled beneath the thin material of your tank top.

“You’re right. It doesn't sound like something you’d say,” he snorts, and leans in so that your face is just a few inches from his. “So imagine my surprise when I walked by your apartment to hear you talking about jumping my adamantium bones.”

He doesn't miss the way your breath catches in your throat or how your eyes flicker to his lips.

“You gonna do it? Or you just gonna keep thinking about it while you're sitting beside me?”

For a second, you say nothing and Logan struggles to read your expression. Then, without taking your eyes off of him, you slowly stand in front of the couch. You reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up.

Logan's mouth goes dry. Suddenly, he's all out of smart remarks.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your pajama shorts, pushing them down your thighs along with your panties, and let them both drop to your feet all while holding his gaze.

With you now stark naked before him, he leans forward, grasping you by the backs of your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. You straddle him, gently pushing him back against the sofa.

He tugs his own shirt over his head while you undo his belt buckle and pop open the top button of his jeans, your hands fumbling when he sheds his shirt.

Logan doesn’t typically think too much about his physical appearance. He knows he’s in good shape, and thinks he’s conventionally attractive enough. But he could see himself getting a bit of an ego, if he had someone looking at him the way you are right now on a regular basis.

You help him shimmy his jeans and boxers down far enough for his cock to spring free. You take him in your hand, using your thumb to smear the thick bead of pre-cum across the head.

“You should be careful listening to people’s conversations outside of their doors,” you hum as you pump him in one hand. You hunch over, lowering your mouth enough to spit down his shaft, lubricating the length. You smirk, glancing up at him from beneath your thick eyelashes. “Other people might not react as happily as me.”

Fuck, he knows it’s been a long time since he's even felt anyone’s hands on him, but he feels a little pathetic at the way his balls are already tightening and feeling so heavy just from the way you’re languidly stroking him.

And as much as he’d love for you to keep your hands on him, there’s time for him later. Right now, what he wants more than anything is the feeling of your pussy on him.

He pulls your hand off of him and then tugs you over his erection, trying his hardest to ignore the way the wetness between your legs glides against the tip of his cock, until you’re flat against the hard expanse of his lower stomach.

“This is what you wanted, yeah?” He grunts. You whimper in response, tightening your thighs around his sides and rocking back and forth with the smallest amount of friction. “Don’t be holding back, wanna feel you make a mess on me.”

His words seem to erase any remaining reservation that you may have had. You brace your hands on his chest and begin dragging your center across his lower stomach, your slick coating the thick trail of hair that goes from his belly button to his waistline. With every backstroke, the head of his cock juts against your ass.

You glide across him easily. Soft, wet, and warm, Logan thinks that if you feel this good on his fucking stomach then there’s no way he’ll be able to handle being inside you.

He leans his head forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. You hold his head in your hands, tugging on his hair with your fingers as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth.

He pulls his mouth away from your breast with a wet pop. “You like this? Using me to get yourself off?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod frantically, your answer coming out as a moan. He gives a quick, firm slap to your other breast. Judging by the sound it draws from you, you like it, so he does it again.

He'd pictured this exact scenario a shameful number of times in the last few days, but his thoughts hadn’t done you justice. Every little noise you make, every little whimper and moan as your clit brushes against the thick bulges of his muscles again and again, sounds sweeter than he could've dreamed.

He places his hands on the meat of your hips, guiding you forwards and backwards across his abdomen at a fast pace.

“Fuck,” you gasp, clenching your thighs around him as tight as you can. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“That’s right,” he coos. “Come on, cum on me.”

You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, drenching the hair on his stomach as you ride out your orgasm on him with a cry of his name.

You collapse against his chest, going still with your face in the crook of his neck as you steady your breathing.

“Look at me,” he whispers after a moment. It hits him that despite the fact that you just humped him until you came all over his abdomen, he somehow hasn’t even kissed you yet.

You pull away from his neck, looking down at him with a dazed expression. He brings your face to his mouth by the back of your neck. He wastes no more time, instantly slipping his tongue past your lips.

He holds you by the globes of your ass, which hovers just above his erection. You grind down, causing the tip of his cock to nudge against your entrance. He groans into your mouth, his cock past the point of feeling like it’s going to explode if he doesn’t fucking feel you.

“We can stop here,” he murmurs against your lips when he breaks the kiss, even though the thought kills him. He doesn’t want to stop kissing you, touching you, tasting you. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this and the last thing he wants is for it to come to an end. “Don’t have to go any further if you don’t—”

“No,” you exclaim with a breathy laugh. “No, I don’t want to stop. Do you want to stop?”

He grins up at you, taking his length in his hand and teasing it through your folds from below you. He coats the head in your juices before nudging it against your hole.

“Definitely don’t wanna stop, sweetheart.”

You sink down onto him at the same moment that he tilts his hips up enough to slip inside you, causing the entirety of his length to fill you at once.

You both go still, adjusting to the new sensation of each other. Your walls, velvet soft and so warm, constrict around him like a vice. He knows you’re likely tired from riding him through your first orgasm, so he begins thrusting his hips slowly, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

“You’re big. So, so big,” you moan – something between a whine and a praise.

“I know, but you’re doing so good, honey,” he encourages as he eases himself in and out of you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You latch your lips to his again, and it’s hard for him to hold back. The feeling of your tight, perfect cunt around him and the taste of your tongue in his mouth is overwhelming. He wants to memorize every movement, every sound you make.

You snake your hand between your bodies, your fingertips finding your swollen clit and massaging languid circles. He feels you flutter around him as you start meeting his thrusts with movements of your own, and he knows you’re close.

“Not gonna last much longer, honey,” he grunts with a sharp thrust. “Feel too fucking good.”

“Cum with me,” you murmur against his mouth.

Your command causes something in him to snap. He releases a throaty growl, pistoning his hips upwards at a harsh pace as he fills you up from below. You constrict around him, crying his name into his ear as you ride out your climaxes together.

You collapse against his chest once more, his cock still nestled inside you. He loses track of how long the two of you stay like that, neither of you wanting to be the first to move.

“Remind me to eavesdrop on your conversations more often,” he huffs a laugh, still slightly out of breath.

You bring your lips to his, smiling as you give him a light kiss.

“I’ll know if you do. I have a doorbell camera. You didn’t notice that?”

thank you so much for reading <3 comments and reblogs are super appreciated. here are a few more of my favorite logan pieces that i've written ✨️

for always and ever is always for you - old man logan x healer reader

diet pepsi - old man logan x reader limousine sex

lavender and velvet - worst variant logan x neighbor reader

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

FINAL PART.

Bangchan x reader. (s,f,a)

Chapters: Part I / Part II / Part III

Synopsis: When a new fuckboy, Minho, moves into the building, Chan’s sense of security is shaken. Minho’s flirtatious confidence and bold claim to win you over rattles Chan, igniting a rivalry. As Chan struggles to defend his relationship, he’s forced to confront his insecurities while proving his worth to you. (18,1k words)

Author's note: It's been fun writing this series. Thank you for enjoying this "fuckboy". Hope you enjoy this one too, my darlings ♡

The early morning light filters through the window, painting the room in soft hues of gold. You blink awake, your senses still heavy with sleep, and it takes a moment to realize where you are—wrapped in the warmth of Chan’s bed, tangled in the sheets that carry his comforting scent.

Turning your head, your gaze falls on him. Chan lies next to you, his face relaxed in sleep, his lashes casting delicate shadows over his cheeks. His soft curls are a tousled mess, a few strands falling over his forehead. He’s snoring lightly, the sound barely audible but undeniably endearing.

You can’t help but smile as your heart swells with affection. Careful not to wake him, you reach out, your fingers brushing his curls gently, marveling at their softness. The light touch doesn’t disturb him; he shifts slightly, murmuring something unintelligible before settling again.

Your hand trails lower, tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone, the slight bump of his nose. He looks so peaceful, so utterly beautiful, that for a moment, you’re content to simply watch him.

You know you should wake him, ask if he wants to come with you to the farmer’s market like you’d planned. But seeing him like this, so serene, you can’t bring yourself to disturb him. Instead, you lean down and press a feather-light kiss to his lips, his soft breathing tickling your skin.

With a final glance, you slip out of bed and quietly gather your things. Pulling on yesterday’s clothes, you tiptoe out of his apartment, careful not to make a sound.

As you step into the hallway, the door closing gently behind you, you nearly jump when you see Minho standing a few steps away, leaning casually against the wall. He’s dressed for the day, a small smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your disheveled appearance.

“Morning,” he says, his tone teasing but not unkind.

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, shyly hugging yourself to hide your rumpled clothes. “Good morning, Minho,” you mumble, offering him a small, embarrassed smile.

“You're a morning person, I see,” he adds with a playful lift of his brow, his eyes flicking down from your head to your toe.

Your face burns hotter, but you muster a weak laugh. “Why are you even awake this early?”

Minho shrugs, his smirk softening into something closer to amusement. “Wanted to check out the farmer’s market. Fresh produce, you know?”

Your eyes light up, relief washing over you at the change of subject. “Really? I was actually heading there too.”

“Perfect timing,” he says, straightening up. “Want to go together?”

You nod, grateful for the distraction. “Sure, just give me a minute to change. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

As you move past him, hugging yourself tighter, you catch Minho’s amused glance lingering. It’s clear he’s enjoying your flustered state, but he doesn’t say anything more.

Safely inside your apartment, you lean against the door, exhaling deeply. You glance down at yourself—messy hair, wrinkled clothes—and groan softly, vowing to make yourself presentable before facing Minho again.

You can still feel the warmth of Chan’s bed, the softness of his curls beneath your fingers, and the image of his peaceful face stays with you as you quickly get ready. It’s a walk of shame, sure—but you can’t find it in yourself to regret it.

-

Chan stretches out on the bed, his hand instinctively reaching for the space beside him. It’s empty, but the faint warmth still lingering on the sheets tells him you haven’t been gone long. The sunlight filtering through the curtains reminds him it’s Saturday—your farmer’s market day.

He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair as he sits up. Saturday mornings are quiet without you. Your trips to the farmer’s market are a ritual he admires, though he can’t help but miss waking up to your smile.

Throwing on a hoodie, he pads into the kitchen. The apartment is quiet, save for the hum of the fridge. He pours himself a glass of orange juice, sipping it while glancing at the clock. You should be back soon.

As if on cue, the sound of your laughter echoes through the hallway. Chan perks up, moving to the door just in time to hear another voice—deeper, smooth, and unfamiliar.

Curious, he cracks the door open. You’re standing there, balancing bags filled with fruits and vegetables, laughing at something the man beside you has said.

“Let me take that,” the new neighbor, Minho, offers, easily grabbing one of the heavier bags from your hand.

“Thanks, Minho,” you say with a warm smile.

Chan’s chest tightens as he opens the door wider. “Hey, you’re back,” he says, keeping his tone casual.

He leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek and you subtly dodge away again by turning your head, beaming. “Chris! Look who I ran into at the market.”

Minho looks up, flashing Chan a confident smile as he extends a hand. “Morning, Chris.”

“Morning,” Chan weakly replies with a faint smile.

“We bumped into each other,” you explain. “And he’s new to the area, so I showed him around a bit.”

“That was kind of you,” Chan says, the words sharper than he intends.

Minho doesn’t seem fazed. “She's got great taste. She picked out the best peaches I’ve ever seen.”

Chan’s jaw tightens as he opens his mouth to reply, but Minho shifts his attention back to you before he can. “Here, let me carry this for you,” Minho says, gently brushing your hand as he takes another bag from your arm.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it,” you reply, though your smile stays warm.

“Too late. Can’t let someone as lovely as you strain herself,” Minho says smoothly, winking.

Chan’s stomach churns, his grip tightening around the doorframe. “I think she’s stronger than she looks,” he mutters, his tone laced with a subtle edge.

Minho turns, a smirk playing on his lips as if he hears the challenge in Chan’s voice. “Maybe. But I’m just trying to be neighborly.” His eyes flick to Chan’s, sharp with a silent taunt, before he turns back to you.

“Well, I’d better get these inside,” you say, oblivious to the tension. “Thanks for helping with the bags, Minho.”

“No problem,” Minho replies, stepping back toward his apartment. “See you around, neighbor.” His voice is light, but as he passes Chan, his shoulder brushes just enough to feel deliberate.

Chan watches as Minho disappears behind his door, leaving the two of you alone in the hallway.

“Nice guy, huh?” you say, unlocking your door and stepping inside.

“Yeah,” Chan mutters, following you in. But deep down, he knows Minho isn’t just being friendly.

As you step inside, you nudge the door open wider, motioning for Chan to follow. "Come on, don’t just stand there."

He steps in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The moment it’s shut, Chan’s frustration bubbles to the surface.

“So,” he starts, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, “why do you always dodge me when I try to kiss you outside?”

You pause, setting the bags on the kitchen counter. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he says, his tone half-playful, half-serious. “I went in for a kiss earlier, and you just… turned away. Again.”

You exhale, pulling a carton of eggs from one of the bags and placing it in the fridge. “I’m just not comfortable with public displays of affection, Chris. It’s not you—it’s me.”

“Yeah, but it’s hard not to take it personally,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

You walk over to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel like that. It’s not about you. It’s just how I feel. I promise it’s not because I don’t care about you.”

He glances at you, his frown softening slightly. “I just… I like showing the world you’re mine, you know?”

You smile, cupping his cheek. “I know,” you murmur, brushing your thumb against his skin, “but in here, you can kiss me as many times as you want.”

His face lights up at your words, the tension in his shoulders melting away. Without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you so close there’s barely any space between you.

His lips find yours, soft and eager, moving with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. You kiss him back, threading your fingers through his hair, feeling him relax under your touch.

The kiss deepens, Chan’s hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips grow hungrier, and his grip tightens as he starts to lose himself in you. Sensing the shift, you gently pull back, your lips lingering on his for a moment before parting.

“Easy there, tiger,” you tease softly.

He groans, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re killing me.”

You laugh, stroking his hair. “Come on. Let me make you breakfast.”

He sighs dramatically but steps back, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But only if I get to watch.”

“Deal,” you say, heading toward the kitchen, feeling his eyes on you the whole way.

As you start pulling ingredients from the fridge, Chan takes a seat at the table, watching you with a soft smile. Moments like these remind him why he doesn’t need the validation of public displays—this, right here, is what matters.

-

It’s one of those rare weekends where neither of you has work pulling you in different directions, and Chan insisted on making the most of it.

“Just a normal date,” he’d said, grinning like a kid as he scrolled through movie listings.

Now, as you step out of the restroom, the smell of buttery popcorn fills the air. You spot Chan at the concession stand, leaning slightly against the counter as he waits for the popcorn and drinks. He’s smiling, that warm, dimpled grin you’ve come to adore.

But it’s not for you.

The girl behind the counter, probably a college student, is laughing at something he said. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze lingering a little too long on him. You know that look—girls are always drawn to him like moths to a flame.

You don’t even feel a pang of jealousy anymore; it’s practically routine. Still, you’re not about to let her think he’s single.

Walking up beside him, you clear your throat. “Got the tickets?” you ask casually, your voice cutting through their little bubble.

Chan startles slightly, his grin faltering before he turns to you. “Uh, yeah, got them right here.” He pats his pocket like a man trying to prove he hasn’t lost his wallet.

The girl’s expression falters, and she quickly hands over the popcorn and drinks. Chan fumbles with his wallet, hurriedly paying as if he can’t get away fast enough.

Once you’re walking toward the theater, his shoulder brushing yours, he exhales and glances at you sheepishly. “You could’ve let me hold your hand, you know. Then everyone would’ve known I’m with you.”

You roll your eyes, the corner of your mouth quirking up. “I never said you couldn’t hold my hand, Chris.”

His face lights up with a grin, and before you can react, his hand slides into yours, warm and secure. “You’re right,” he says smugly, giving your hand a squeeze. “You didn’t.”

Shaking your head, you let him lead you into the dim theater, his thumb brushing against yours. As the movie starts, Chan leans closer, whispering, “Next time, I’m holding your hand the whole time, no excuses.”

You bite back a smile and focus on the screen, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. Some things about Chan might drive you crazy, but moments like this make it all worth it.

-

The movie is halfway in, but Chan's attention is barely on the screen. Instead, you catch him watching you out of the corner of your eye. His hand stays in yours, his thumb idly tracing circles against your skin, but his gaze keeps flickering your way.

You nudge him gently. “Chris, the screen is that way. You’re missing the movie you wanted to see so badly.”

He grins, unapologetic. “Yeah, but I kind of regret taking you here now.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? And why’s that?”

He shrugs, leaning closer so his voice doesn’t carry. “If we were watching this at home, I could actually cuddle you... maybe kiss you a little.” His grin turns teasing. “Or a lot.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “This whole thing was your idea.”

“I know, I know,” he admits, squeezing your hand. “But I can’t help it. You’re right here, looking all cute, and I’m supposed to just sit here and watch the movie?”

You glance at him, warmth blooming in your chest despite his antics. You’ve always appreciated how much Chan respects your boundaries. One of those boundaries being your aversion to public displays of affection.

But right now, sitting in the darkened theater with no one paying attention, you’re tempted to bend the rules. You put your bucket of popcorn aside, turning fully to face him. Gently, you cup his cheek, drawing his attention to you. His eyes widen, and you can see the curiosity sparkling in them.

“It’s dark in here,” you whisper, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I think we can make an exception just this once.”

Chan doesn’t need to be told twice. He leans in immediately, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, almost testing. But as you respond, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek.

It’s as if he’s been waiting all day for this, and the world outside the theater melts away. The movie becomes background noise as the two of you lose yourselves in the moment.

By the time you both pull back, slightly breathless, the movie is already well past its climactic scene. You glance at the screen, then back at Chan, who looks utterly content.

“We missed most of it,” you point out with a low laugh.

“Totally worth it,” he murmurs, his fingers still entwined with yours.

He leans in again, clearly aiming for another kiss, but you grab a piece of popcorn and pop it into his mouth instead. His lips close around it, his expression shifting to surprise before softening into amusement.

You laugh quietly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Focus, Chris. At least pretend to watch the ending.”

He chews the popcorn, grinning as he leans back into his seat. “Fine, but just know I’m only staying for you, not the movie.”

You shake your head, trying to hide your smile as you settle back beside him. Chan might be incorrigible, but moments like this make you fall for him just a little more.

-

The elevator hums quietly as it ascends, but Chan barely notices. His attention is entirely on you—your hand in his, the faint smile playing on your lips, and the soft glow of the overhead lights casting shadows over your features.

He feels giddy, almost buzzing from the events of the night. The movie had been fun, but honestly, he can barely remember the plot. What he does remember is you, and how you made the entire evening feel like something out of a dream.

Unable to help himself, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. You turn your head, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow, and he grins mischievously.

“So... Your place or mine?” he teases, his tone light but with a playful edge.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Neither. I’m going to my place to sleep because I’m working tomorrow.”

His grin fades into a dramatic pout, his shoulders slumping. “What? No fair. I thought we were having a date night, not a goodnight.”

The elevator dings softly as it reaches your floor, and before he can protest further, you tighten your grip on his hand and pull him along toward your apartment.

Once you reach your door, you turn to him with a sly smile, one that makes his heart skip a beat. “You’re staying at my place tonight, Chris.”

His pout vanishes instantly, replaced with a boyish grin. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

The moment you unlock the door and step inside, Chan pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist as his lips find yours in a kiss that’s anything but restrained. All the affection he’s been holding back spills out as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

His hands wander to your lower back, pressing you flush against him, and he groans softly when you respond with equal fervor. The scent of your perfume lingers between you, mingling with the faint warmth of the apartment.

Chan smiles against your lips, murmuring, “I don’t care how early you have to wake up tomorrow. I’m not letting you go.”

And for now, it seems, you’re just as unwilling to let him go either.

-

"Are you going to be my girl tonight?"

Chan's voice is husky, teasing, as his lips capture yours in a deep, heated kiss. He doesn’t wait for an answer—not with the way your body responds to him. His hands glide down your sides, firm but tender, pulling you closer, despite you already being laid bare before him.

He finally breaks the kiss, only to continue down your body, his lips leaving a burning trail on your skin. You're sprawled across the bed, your legs dangling off the edge, and the way Chan looks at you feels like he’s savoring every second.

“I know you like it when I call you that,” he murmurs as he parts your legs, kneeling before you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. You giggle softly as he places a teasing kiss on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“You are my girl,” he breathes, his voice thick with reverence. “My sweet, sweet girl.”

He punctuates each word with a kiss closer and closer to where you need him most. You barely have time to prepare before he surprises you, tugging your body toward the edge of the bed and positioning himself closer, deeper. Your breath catches as he throws your legs over his shoulders and dives in, his mouth working magic that has you squirming in seconds.

Chan’s skill is unmatched—his nose pressing against your most sensitive spot, his tongue exploring with precision and intent. Your hands find their way to his curls, your toes curling, your body writhing under his ministrations. The sound of your moans fills the room, sweet and breathless, as he pushes you closer to the edge.

And when you finally unravel, shattering in his hands and on his lips, he doesn’t let up. Instead, he lingers, soft kisses marking your thighs, his tenderness grounding you in the aftermath of bliss.

Hovering above you now, Chan takes in the sight of you, your chest rising and falling, your face radiant with pleasure. His dimples appear as he smiles, brushing stray hair away from your damp forehead. He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss so gentle, it feels like a promise.

“Hey,” you tease, your voice light and playful as you encircle his neck with your arms. “Your girl wants you to put it in now.”

His brows raise, his grin widening. “My girl wants it inside?” He presses his forehead to yours, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Now?”

You nod, your sly smile making his chest tighten with affection. “Mm-hmm.”

With deliberate slowness, he drags his lips down your jaw, leaving a trail of heat on your skin. “Only if you say please,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Baby, please,” you coo, and the way the pet name falls from your lips has him grinning, his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

Chan doesn’t need more encouragement. He shifts lower, positioning himself at the edge of the bed. One hand holds your leg open while the other guides himself to your entrance. As he pushes in, his eyes lock onto yours, drinking in the way your expression shifts—the way your lips part in a gasp, the way your body arches to meet his.

Fully sheathed, he pauses, his chest rising and falling as he takes in the sensation of you. With a satisfied smile, he begins to move, the angle perfect thanks to the bed’s height. Each thrust is measured, deliberate, his focus entirely on you. Your hands glide over his shoulders, down his arms, feeling every inch of him. They trail lower, cupping his ass with a playful squeeze that earns you a breathy chuckle.

He leans down, teasing you with a slow kiss before pulling back just enough to ask, “Impressed?”

Your gaze is locked on his, unwavering, and you nod firmly. “Very.”

Your moans mix with his quiet groans, the room filled with the sound of shared pleasure. Chan’s eyes never leave you, watching every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. He’s close—he can feel it, and with the way you’re tightening around him, he knows you are too.

“Where do you want it, hmm?” he asks, his voice rough with restraint.

But instead of answering, you pull him into a kiss, hot and heavy, your tongues tangling as if the world outside doesn’t exist. The kiss steals his breath, and the moment takes him over the edge.

With a groan, Chan pulls out at the last second, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself over you. His hand moves quickly, chasing his release as your hands rest on his thighs, your gaze locked on him in anticipation.

Moments later, with a shudder and a raw moan, his release spills over your chest, painting your skin in streaks of white. You gasp softly, the sight of him undone above you leaving you breathless.

Chan collapses onto his elbows, framing your face with his arms. He kisses you deeply, his lips lingering as he brushes your hair back with tender fingers.

“Stay, yeah? I’ll grab a cloth,” he whispers against your skin, his tone filled with affection.

You stop him with a soft kiss, smiling. “Okay.”

After a quick cleanup in the bathroom, he returns to find you sitting up on the bed, your hair swept back, your skin glistening wet in the aftermath of passion. With gentle care, he wipes you down, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

When he’s done, you reward him with a kiss, your lips soft and full of promise. “Thank you,” you say with a grin.

“Time to cuddle.” He eagerly moves to his side of the bed, ready for his favorite part of the night.

You hold a hand to his chest, stopping him from pulling you in. “Hold that thought,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I have to pee.”

Chan laughs, watching you saunter off to the bathroom, and admiring how beautiful you are with your skin glowing under the soft glow of your bedroom lights.

“That’s my girl,” he delightfully sighs, his smile full of adoration.

-

Chan is already smiling when you step out of the bathroom, his head resting lazily on the pillow, the sheets pooling around his waist. The way he looks at you, with an easy grin and a softness that doesn’t quite match the image he projects to the rest of the world, almost makes you forget to breathe. But his smile drops the moment he notices you pulling on a t-shirt.

"Hey," he whines, propping himself up on his elbows. “Take that off. It’s illegal to wear clothes in bed when I’m here.”

You roll your eyes, tugging the hem of the shirt into place. “I’m cold.”

“Excuses.” He opens his arms wide, an irresistible invitation. “Come here. I’ll warm you up.”

With a small shake of your head but a smile on your lips, you crawl into bed beside him. He helps you taking the t-shirt off and aggressively tosses it onto the floor after. His arms wrap around you immediately, pulling you close until your head rests on his chest. His hand finds its way to your hair, idly brushing through the strands while his other arm holds you securely against him.

For a while, there’s just comfortable silence. Chan’s chest rises and falls steadily beneath your cheek, and you let yourself relax into the comforting rhythm.

Then, out of nowhere, Chan breaks the quiet.

“Why aren’t we dating yet?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“I mean, think about it,” he says, his voice contemplative as his hand stills in your hair. “We like each other, right? That much is obvious. And the… uh, sexual chemistry?” His lips curl into a sheepish smile you can feel more than see. “It’s off the charts. So why aren’t we just… together?”

You lift your head to look at him, raising a playful eyebrow. “What happened to the guy who used to hide in my apartment to avoid having these kinds of conversations with the girls he was seeing? Huh?”

Chan chuckles, the sound low and warm. “That guy grew up, okay?”

You hum, pretending to think. “Who are you? And what did you do to the fuckboy next door?”

He laughs outright this time, shaking his head. “He retired. Sold the title. But seriously...” His voice softens as he meets your gaze again. “I want this. I want us. So why not just make it official?”

His earnestness leaves a slight ache in your chest, but you press it down. Instead, you offer him a soft smile, reaching up to brush his cheek with your fingertips.

“I think,” you begin carefully, “that we shouldn’t rush it. Relationships are a big deal, and I don’t want to mess this up. We’ll know when it’s the right time, Chris. I promise.”

He searches your face for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he sighs and nods. “Yeah. Okay. I get it.”

But you can feel the tension lingering in his shoulders as he pulls you close again. You know what’s bothering him, even if he doesn’t say it. Minho. That bold, smug smile. The little comments that he probably thinks are harmless but dig under Chan’s skin like splinters.

And for all his charm and newfound earnestness, Chan is still afraid. Afraid of losing you before he even truly has you.

-

The bed shakes, pulling Chan from the light doze he’s been enjoying. He cracks an eye open, disoriented, and watches as you bolt out of bed, mumbling something about being late. The slam of the bathroom door jolts him further awake, and he groans, dragging his hand down his face.

A quick glance at the clock confirms it—you’ve overslept. Knowing how rushed you must feel, Chan forces himself up despite wanting to stay cocooned in the sheets a little longer. He stretches, yawns, and heads to the bathroom. The sound of water rushing in the shower drowns out any chance of conversation, so he settles for a quick wash at the sink before leaving you to it.

In the kitchen, he moves on autopilot, pulling ingredients from the fridge and setting the coffee machine to brew. Within minutes, the smell of toast fills the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Chan prepares a cup just the way you like it and grabs a plate with a buttered toast before making his way to the bedroom.

When he enters, you’re perched in front of the vanity, expertly applying your makeup in quick, efficient motions. You glance at him in the mirror and flash a grateful smile as he sets the coffee and toast down beside you.

“Thanks, baby,” you murmur, pausing briefly to take a sip of coffee and a bite of toast before resuming your routine.

Chan smiles hearing you used a petname for him and then he leans against the wall, watching you with a fond smile. “Want me to help dry your hair while you do that?”

You glance at him and nod. “That’d be great.”

He picks up the hairdryer and begins carefully running his fingers through your hair as he dries it, making sure not to disturb your makeup process. It’s a small thing, but he loves moments like these—helping you in the ways he can, being part of your busy mornings.

When you’re finally ready, you sit on the bench by the foyer to put on your shoes. Chan hovers nearby, watching as you lace them up.

“Want me to pick you up at the bus stop later?” he asks.

You glance up, slipping your second shoe on. “I’m working on a photoshoot today. I’m not sure when I’ll be done.”

Chan nods, already mentally preparing to wait up for your call regardless of the hour. You stand, heading for the door, but Chan stops you with a light tug on your arm.

“You’re forgetting something,” he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

You blink and smirk, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “There.”

Chan laughs, holding up your phone. “Not that, genius.”

Your cheeks flush, and you laugh along with him, snatching the phone from his hand. “Thanks. Again.” This time, you cup his face and give him a longer, lingering kiss, leaving him momentarily breathless.

The two of you exit the apartment together, and just as the elevator arrives on your floor, you step inside, waving goodbye with a rushed smile.

Chan stands there, hands in his pockets, watching the doors close with a content grin on his face. He couldn’t ask for a better way to start his day.

The elevator doors slide shut, and Chan stands in the hallway for a moment, a warm smile lingering on his face. He stretches, ready to head back inside for a quiet, lazy morning. Just as he turns to his door, a voice cuts through the peaceful silence.

"Well, isn’t this a cozy little scene?"

Chan looks up to see Minho leaning casually against the doorway of his apartment, arms crossed and a smirk plastered across his face.

“Good morning, Chris. Or should I call you ‘Neighbor Boyfriend’ now?” Minho teases, his voice laced with mock amusement.

Chan’s grin falters slightly, replaced by a frown. “Morning,” he half-heartedly replies, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Minho straightens up and steps into the hallway, his smirk only widening. “Gotta say, you two are quite the sight. She’s so... composed, and then there’s you, acting like a lovesick puppy.”

Chan exhales sharply through his nose, willing himself to keep his cool. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Minho chuckles, casually leaning closer. “I mean, I’ve only been here a few days, and it’s already obvious. You’re head over heels, but her?” He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Hard to tell.”

Chan clenches his jaw but forces a smile. “Thanks for the unsolicited opinion, Minho.”

Minho chuckles again, stepping back toward his door. “Just calling it as I see it. Enjoy your day, Chris.”

He gives a mocking little wave before disappearing into his apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar as if to taunt him further.

Chan stands frozen for a moment, hands curling into fists at his sides. He lets out a deep breath, shaking his head as he steps back into his own apartment, Minho’s words still echoing in his mind.

Ugh. So much for a peaceful morning.

-

Chan wipes the sweat off his forehead as he steps into his apartment, dropping his gym bag by the door. His phone buzzes, and he checks the screen to see a message from you:

Almost done with work! Heading to the bus stop soon.

A grin tugs at his lips, and he glances at the time. “Perfect,” he mutters, making his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. He knows you’ll appreciate him being on time, especially after how hectic your morning started.

Minutes later, Chan is freshly showered, towel-drying his hair as he scans his wardrobe for something decent to wear. Settling on a simple hoodie and jeans, he slips into his sneakers and grabs his phone, ready to text you that he’s on his way.

Before he can type a word, there’s a knock at the door. His brows furrow. It’s too early for you, and he’s not expecting anyone else. When he opens it, the sight on the other side is the exact opposite of what he wants to see.

Minho stands there, a sly grin plastered across his face.

“Chris! Just the guy I was looking for,” Minho says, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Chan crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Minho?”

Minho straightens up, his grin widening. “Oh, nothing much. Just here to show someone where you live.”

Before Chan can question him further, Minho steps aside, and someone else comes into view. His stomach twists as he sees her. Sue.

The familiar face catches him off guard. Sue, with her perfectly styled hair and charming smile, greets him warmly.

“Hey, Chris,” she says, her tone light and casual, as if no time had passed since they last spoke.

Chan’s hand tightens on the doorframe, his mind racing. Of all the people to show up here, Sue is the last person he expected—or wanted—to see.

“...Sue,” he finally manages, his voice clipped. He shoots a quick glare at Minho, who’s now leaning against the hallway wall, looking far too pleased with himself.

Chan forces himself to meet her gaze, bracing for whatever reason she’s here—and for whatever game Minho thinks he’s playing.

-

Chan sets the glass of juice on the coffee table in front of Sue, trying to balance politeness with the unease creeping up his spine. He forces a small smile as she thanks him, her eyes scanning the room before landing on him again.

“Nice place, Chris,” she says, her tone light, her lips curving into a warm smile. “It’s cozy.”

“Thanks,” he replies curtly, sitting down on the armrest of a nearby chair instead of joining her on the sofa. He fiddles with the hem of his hoodie, feeling the seconds stretch awkwardly between them. “So… why are you here, Sue?”

Sue’s expression brightens as if she’s been waiting for the question. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a tie, holding it up.

“This,” she says, a playful tone in her voice. “I believe it’s yours. From that wedding we were at a while back. You left it behind.”

Chan stares at the tie for a moment before taking it from her. It’s familiar, all right—the tie he wore the night they reconnected. He thanks her, though the gesture feels unnecessary. A tie isn’t exactly something worth returning.

“You really didn’t have to go out of your way for this,” he says, placing it on the coffee table.

Sue shrugs, crossing her legs. “I thought it’d be nice to stop by. And I figured it’d give us a chance to catch up.”

She leans back, her gaze softening. “It was such a surprise seeing you again that night. It brought back so many memories, you know?”

Chan nods, his smile tight as he feels her words start to linger in the air. He’s polite but cautious, sensing the subtle shift in her tone.

Sue continues, her voice lowering slightly, as though sharing a secret. “And if we're being honest, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since then.”

Chan freezes, the implication behind her words settling heavily between them. His heart sinks as he realizes where this conversation is heading.

Clearing his throat, he straightens his posture. “Sue,” he starts, his voice measured. “I think I wasn’t clear enough the last time we talked.”

Sue tilts her head, her smile faltering ever so slightly.

“I know what you’re trying to do here,” Chan continues, his tone gentle but firm. “And I really don’t want to lead you on.” He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m seeing someone right now. It’s… getting serious.”

For a moment, Sue doesn’t say anything. Then, her expression shifts, disappointment flickering in her eyes as she processes his words.

“Oh,” she murmurs, lowering her gaze. “I… I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Chan interrupts, his tone softening. “Really. I’m flattered, Sue. You have no idea. If anything, I feel like my teenage crush has finally come full circle.”

Sue blinks, her lips curling into a reluctant smile. “Teenage crush, huh?”

Chan chuckles, feeling the tension ease between them. “Yeah. I mean, come on, you were way out of my league back then. And still.”

Her laugh is genuine now, and she shakes her head. “I guess timing was never on our side.”

“Guess not,” Chan agrees, a warmth settling in his chest as they share a moment of mutual understanding.

As the laughter dies down, Sue rises from the sofa, smoothing her skirt. “Well, I should get going. Thanks for the uh... juice and the honesty, Chris.”

Chan stands, walking her to the door. “Take care, Sue.”

She gives him one last smile before stepping out into the hallway. As the door clicks shut behind her, Chan exhales deeply, feeling a strange mix of relief and gratitude. Timing really wasn’t on their side—and for once, he’s perfectly okay with that.

-

Chan’s knuckles rap softly against your door, the sound almost drowned out by the racing of his heart. He adjusts the hem of his hoodie nervously, rehearsing his apology in his head. When the door opens, your bright smile greets him, and all of his words evaporate on his tongue. Without a second thought, he steps inside, cups your face, and kisses you.

The kiss lingers, soft and apologetic, before he pulls back just enough to speak. “I’m sorry about last night,” he begins, his voice low and earnest. “I meant to pick you up, but something—”

Before he can finish, a figure emerges from your bathroom. Minho steps into the living room, his white t-shirt clinging to his chest, soaked through as though he’d just been caught in the rain.

Chan freezes, his words dying mid-sentence. Minho runs a hand through his damp hair, offering Chan a sly smile before addressing you. “Hey, the shower head’s fixed, but it might still leak a little. You’ll probably want to check it later.”

Your smile falters slightly as you glance between them. “Thanks, Minho. Let me grab you a towel.” You disappear down the hallway, leaving the two men alone.

Chan shifts uncomfortably, glaring at the floor while Minho leans casually against the wall.

“Rough night, huh?” Minho starts, his tone far too conversational. “Must’ve been, with your guest and all.”

Chan’s jaw tightens, his gaze snapping to Minho. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Minho shrugs, feigning innocence. “Oh, nothing. Just thought it was interesting helping your friend return your tie. You know, the one you left in her hotel room?”

Before Chan can respond, you return, handing Minho a towel. “Here,” you say with a warm smile. “Thanks again for helping with the shower.”

“No problem.” Minho takes the towel, winking at Chan. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

As the door closes behind Minho, Chan lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His gaze moves to you as you sit down on the sofa, looking at him expectantly.

“Okay,” he says, standing in front of you. “I need to explain something.”

You nod, but your attention drifts almost immediately. Your eyes flicker downward, then linger a little too long.

“Are you listening?” Chan asks, noticing your distracted expression.

You blink and meet his eyes, caught off guard. “Yeah, of course,” you say, though your gaze quickly strays again.

Chan follows your line of sight and catches on, his cheeks flushing as he realizes where you’re looking. “Hey, my eyes are up here,” he teases, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Are you even listening to me?”

You finally snap out of it, sitting straighter. “I am,” you insist, though your shy smile betrays you. “It’s just…”

Chan raises an eyebrow, waiting.

You hesitate, then admit, “It’s hard to focus when you’re wearing those grey sweatpants.” Your cheeks heat as you gesture vaguely toward his lower half. “They’re… distracting.”

The flush on Chan’s face deepens, and he stumbles over his words. “What? These? They’re just—” He glances down, clearly self-conscious now. “I wasn’t—this wasn’t—”

You lean closer, your voice dropping to a seductive murmur. “I don’t have much time before work so…” You let the sentence hang, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Can we talk about it in the shower?”

Chan’s breath hitches, his brain short-circuiting at your suggestion. The apology he had so carefully crafted is long forgotten as you take his hand, pulling him toward the bathroom.

-

The steamy mist envelops the bathroom as Chan steps in, his heart racing the moment his eyes land on you. Warm water cascades down your body, tracing paths he longs to follow with his hands and lips. He stands there, momentarily stunned, feeling like he’s witnessing something ethereal.

Unable to resist any longer, Chan moves closer, slipping his arms around your waist. The heat of your skin against his sends a shiver through him, and he presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, letting his lips linger on the beads of water glistening there. His mouth trails up to your neck, the salty-sweet taste of your skin driving him wild.

You turn in his arms, your hands resting firmly on his chest. The mischievous glint in your eyes makes his pulse quicken. Gently but insistently, you push him back until his back hits the cool tiles of the shower wall. Chan’s breath hitches as you lean into him, your wet body pinning him in place.

Your lips hover tantalizingly close to his, and he instinctively leans forward, only for you to pull back, teasing him with a sly smile.

“Patience,” you murmur, your voice low and sultry.

He groans softly, his hands finding purchase on your waist as you finally close the gap, kissing him deeply. Chan melts into the kiss, his arms pulling you impossibly closer, the warmth of the water surrounding you both like a cocoon.

You move your lips down to his neck as your hand glides down his front, not stopping until your hand meets his hardening member. He's helpless as you're kissing his sensitive spot and your hand wrapped around his length, and the warm water does nothing but contribute to the rise of the temperature.

As you slowly stroking his cock, you press your mouth to his ear. “Mmh... so big.”

Chan drops his mouth on your shoulder, drinking in the scent and beads of water on your skin. His hand snaking down your back, kneading on your ass cheek.

“Want to feel it getting bigger in mouth,” you whisper and with that, you put your knees down on the bathroom floor.

Your hand keeps stroking his cock while your eyes fixated on him, you tease its head by circling it with your thumb. You begin teasing his tip with kitten licks and you hold his cock slightly upward to land a lick along his length, earning a raw groan from him.

You slyly smile seeing him losing focus of you but you surprise him by cradling his balls in your hand while your mouth starts taking his length. You take and keep on taking his length until it fully disappeared into your mouth.

Chan lets out a deep growl as you close your lips around his length and sucking at it, your tongue feels hot around him, oh... he knows he's about to lose it soon.

While keeping the eye contact, your head bobbing as you pull away and take more of him, twirling your tongue around it, sucking him harder and using your hand to compensate the rest that you can’t take.

Next thing he knows, Chan is teetering on the edge, it's the way you're looking at him, your eagerness to please and just how good you are with your mouth. He tangles his hand in your damp hair, breathlessly he says, “I'm about to cum, baby.”

With your mouth full of him, you can exactly respond to him but ypu blink your eyes, signaling that you hear him. You slowly pull away, replacing your mouth with both hands now, continuing building the tension that's about to burst soon.

You tilt your head upward, watching him falling apart at the seams as you tirelessly pumping him with your hands. A smile tugging at your lips ad you wait for him to come undone before you.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” he says with a rushed tone.

You close your eyes to brace yourself to receive his load on your face and you gasp as the first streak of his seed lands on your cheek and some more landing on your chin and around your mouth. When you think he's done, another one lands across your eyelid.

“Chris, not my eye!” you grumble with a playful laugh. You keep your eyes closed and freeze, unsure on what to do.

Chan pulls you up so he can help you with it, he collects some water from the shower and gently, he washes your eyes with it and eventually all over your face.

“There. Done,” he announces as he wipes the last of his cum on your chin and gives you a quick kiss on the lips.

You slowly open your eyes and smile at him. “That was fun,” you teasingly comment.

Chan shyly smiles and pulls you close. “I think that was hot.”

Your arms slide up to rest around his shoulders, and you look at him with a playful yet expectant expression. “Alright,” you say with a grin. “I’m ready to listen now.”

Chan blinks, momentarily disoriented, before the memory of why he came over resurfaces. “Right… Sue,” he begins, his voice slightly breathless. “She stopped by yesterday to return a tie I left behind. That’s all it was.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head. “Uh-huh. And why’d you leave your tie at her place in the first place?”

“It was from a wedding I went to, remember?” he explains hurriedly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips. “I didn’t even realize I left it. She just… used it as an excuse to show up.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, leaning your forehead against his. “Chris, you could’ve just told me that. No need to make it a big deal.”

He sighs, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I know, I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not… like that anymore.”

You chuckle, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “I know you’re not. But for the record, if you get into trouble again, you might want to hide your ties better.”

Chan laughs, his heart feeling lighter as he kisses you again, this time slower, savoring the moment. All his earlier worries melt away under the warmth of your touch and the water cascading around you both.

-

The soft hum of conversation fills the lobby as you step in, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. Your eyes scan the space and quickly land on Minho, standing by the mailboxes, sifting through a stack of letters. He looks effortlessly put together, dressed casually yet sharply, and you can’t help but smile as you approach him.

“Morning,” you say, catching his attention. He looks up, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk.

“Morning. Shower still working?” he asks, setting the mail aside.

You nod, feeling a bit sheepish. “Yes, perfectly. Thank you for fixing it this morning. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” he says with a wave of his hand, as if it were no big deal. Then his gaze flicks to your bag. “Heading to work?”

“Yeah,” you confirm with a small smile.

Minho tilts his head slightly, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “Want a ride?”

“Oh, no, I’m good,” you reply quickly, shaking your head. “It’s not that far, and I don’t want to trouble you—”

“Trouble me? Please,” he interrupts, his smirk widening. “It’s literally on my way. Just say yes.”

You hesitate for a moment, but Minho raises an eyebrow, clearly not taking no for an answer. “Come on,” he urges. “Unless you want to be late?”

With a soft laugh, you relent. “Okay, fine.”

The ride starts off light, the radio playing softly in the background as Minho drives. He’s casual, one hand on the wheel, the other draped over the gear shift. It’s comfortable, easy—until he glances over at you and breaks the silence.

“So,” he begins, his tone teasing but laced with curiosity. “You and Chris. What’s the deal?”

Caught off guard, you blink at him. “Uh… what do you mean?”

“I mean, are you guys… serious? Casual? Still figuring things out?” He spares you a quick glance before returning his focus to the road.

You shift in your seat, feeling a flicker of nervousness. “We’re still getting to know each other better,” you answer carefully. “It’s… new.”

Minho hums thoughtfully, and you can tell he’s not convinced. “You sound like you’re hesitating,” he observes, his voice soft but perceptive.

“I’m not hesitating,” you counter quickly, meeting his gaze briefly. “I’m just… being careful.”

“Careful,” Minho repeats, the word hanging in the air. Then his tone turns playful. “Is that because Chris has a bit of a, uh… reputation?”

You can’t help but laugh softly at his bluntness. “No, it’s not that,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s because… I like him. A lot. And I don’t want to ruin this—for either of us. Like I did with my last relationship.”

Minho’s teasing demeanor softens slightly, and he gives you a sidelong glance, a flicker of understanding in his expression. “Ah, I get it. You’re serious about this one.”

“I am,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I just want to do things right.”

A beat of silence passes before Minho’s smirk returns, albeit gentler this time. “So, you’re saying I don’t have a chance?” he asks, feigning disappointment.

You laugh, the sound genuine and light. “Sorry, Minho. I’m very much taken at this point.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh, playfully smacking the steering wheel. “Chris is a lucky bastard,” he grumbles, though his tone is laced with good-natured envy.

You shake your head, still laughing softly. “He’s… something else,” you admit, warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of Chan.

Minho glances over at you again, his smirk softening into a smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re happy, neighbor.”

As Minho pulls up in front of your workplace, he shifts the car into park and turns to you, a teasing smirk already forming on his lips. “Well, here we are,” he says, gesturing grandly like a chauffeur.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say with a grateful smile, reaching for the door handle.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies. Then, just as you’re stepping out of the car, he adds with a mock-serious tone, “But don’t think I’m fixing your shower again.”

You freeze mid-step and turn back to him, laughing softly. “What? Why not?”

“Because next time, I’m charging you,” he quips, leaning back in his seat. “Or better yet, I’ll let Chris deal with it. He can pick up a wrench for once.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop smiling. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Minho grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Good. Now go have a nice day at work. And tell Chris he owes me for this ride, too.”

Shaking your head, you step out of the car, shutting the door behind you. “Thanks again, Minho,” you call out with a wave.

“Anytime,” he replies, winking. “But seriously—no more broken showers.”

You laugh, turning toward your workplace as Minho drives off, his playful words lingering in your mind and leaving you with a lighthearted smile for the rest of the morning. You can’t help but feel a little more certain of the path you’re on—with Chan, and maybe even with Minho as a good friend by your side.

-

The evening air feels warm and easy inside Chan’s apartment. You're perched on a stool next to his DJ setup, your fingers hovering uncertainly over the turntable as Chan stands close, guiding you through the basics. His voice is soft but enthusiastic as he explains how to cue up tracks, mix beats, and create seamless transitions.

“See? Just like this,” he says, demonstrating the movement with fluid precision. His hands brush against yours, and you feel the slight buzz of electricity from his touch.

You bite your lip, pretending to concentrate. “So, what happens when a girl comes into your DJ booth?” you ask teasingly, glancing up at him with a playful smirk.

Chan grins mischievously, his dimples deepening. Without missing a beat, he takes you gently by the waist, pulling you into the open space of his living room.

“This happens,” he replies, starting to sway with you to the beat of the music.

You laugh, a little awkward as you try to follow his lead. “You know I’m terrible at dancing, right?”

“There’s no such thing,” Chan counters, spinning you around playfully before demonstrating a goofy dance move, making you burst into laughter. “See? Now you’re better already.”

Shaking your head, you try to mimic his move, but it’s hopeless. He chuckles and takes your hands, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you. “Alright, let’s make it simple,” he says, lowering his voice. “Just follow me.”

Despite the upbeat track playing in the background, Chan slows his movements, leading you into a slow dance. The contrast feels silly and intimate all at once, and your heart beats faster as he gazes at you with a soft, unguarded look.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours, and you melt into the kiss. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, anchoring you as the world shrinks to just the two of you and the music in the background.

When you pull back, you tilt your head and narrow your eyes playfully. “Do you do this with every girl who comes into your booth?”

Chan smirks, his dimples making another appearance. “Absolutely not,” he says smoothly, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I’m very selective about who gets into my booth… especially who gets to touch my turntable.” He pauses, his grin turning cheeky. “And let’s be honest, no one handles my knobs like you do.”

Your jaw drops as you laugh at his lewd joke, swatting his arm. “Chris!”

He laughs along with you, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “What? It’s true,” he says with a wink, pulling you back into his arms for another dance, the music now forgotten as the two of you move to your own rhythm.

The music hums softly in the background as Chan’s lips move with yours, his hands firmly holding your waist as the two of you sink into the plush sofa. The warmth of his body against yours, combined with the way he kisses you—urgent yet tender—sends shivers down your spine.

Chan’s fingers trace slow, teasing patterns along your sides as the kiss deepens, pulling you closer. His breath hitches as your hands tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a low groan from him.

Then comes the knocking.

Chan stiffens slightly but doesn’t stop, his lips still lingering on yours. When the knocking persists, you reluctantly pull back, breathless. “Chris,” you murmur, your lips still brushing his. “Someone’s at the door.”

He groans audibly, his forehead dropping against yours. “Ignore it,” he mutters, his voice heavy with frustration.

The knocking grows more insistent, and you nudge him lightly. “You can’t just ignore it forever.”

With a resigned sigh, Chan pulls himself up, running a hand through his messy hair as he trudges to the door. He swings it open, already prepared to send whoever it is away, but freezes when he sees Minho leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Chris,” Minho greets with a smirk, his tone infuriatingly casual. “Nice party you’re having. Could hear it from my place.”

Chan narrows his eyes and lets out a sigh. “What do you want now, Minho?”

Before Minho can reply, you appear behind Chan, peeking over his shoulder. “Minho,” you say with a smile. “What brings you here?”

Minho straightens up and gives you a polite nod before turning back to Chan. “I actually need a favor,” he starts, leaning just a little too casually against the doorframe. “There’s this heavy piece of furniture I need to move from my old apartment, and I figured Chan here could help me out. It’s too much to handle on my own.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, clearly unimpressed by the request. Deep down, he’s looking for an excuse to say no, but when you glance up at him with an encouraging smile, he knows he’s already lost.

“That’s so nice of you to ask Chris,” you say warmly. “He’s always so helpful.”

Chan exhales sharply, knowing he can’t refuse in front of you. “Fine,” he mutters, his tone begrudging. “When do you need help?”

“Tonight,” Minho replies, his grin sly and victorious. “I’ll swing by to pick you up in... 15 minutes?”

“Okay,” Chan replies just so the conversation ends quickly.

“Thanks, man.” Minho gives Chan a quick pat on the shoulder before sauntering off, clearly pleased with himself.

Chan closes the door a little harder than necessary, turning to you with a pout. “You know I didn’t actually want to do that, right?”

You laugh softly and loop your arms around his neck. “I know,” you tease. “But I like having a boyfriend who’s nice and kind. It’s very attractive.”

Chan pouts deeper, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t like him.”

You nudge him playfully. “Come on, Chris. We didn’t like each other at first either, remember?”

He crosses his arms, his pout unrelenting. “This is different. I’ll never, ever be in love with Minho.”

Laughing, you pull him into a hug, resting your head against his chest. “Good,” you murmur with a smirk. “One reformed fuckboy is enough. I don’t think I could handle another one.”

He softens under your touch, his arms coming around you as he mumbles, “I told you, I’m not that anymore.”

You lean back just enough to meet his eyes, a teasing smile on your lips. “Exactly. That’s why I’m keeping you.”

He grins despite himself, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his earlier frustration melting away entirely. He sighs as he pulls away, knowing he has to get ready.

“I'll go get changed.”

You playfully slap his butt as he walks towards his room. “Now, that’s my good boy!”

-

The car ride to Minho’s old apartment is tense. Chan sits in the passenger seat, arms crossed as Minho keeps throwing questions his way.

“So, you and her... it’s serious?” Minho asks, eyes flicking between the road and Chan, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Chan sighs, looking out the window. “How far are we from your apartment?”

Minho ignores the deflection, his grin widening. “You’re dodging the question. Come on, it’s me. You can tell me. Is she ‘the one,’ or is this just a phase?”

Chan keeps his gaze firmly outside, biting back his frustration. “Are we there yet?”

Minho laughs, clearly amused by Chan’s silence. “Touchy subject. Got it.”

When they finally arrive, Chan follows Minho up the stairs, carrying a dull sense of hope that this errand will be quick. Minho unlocks the door, and the sound of music and chatter spills out. The apartment is crowded, with people milling about and laughing loudly. Chan frowns.

“I thought we were here for a table,” he says, glancing at the scene unfolding before him.

“We are,” Minho says nonchalantly, stepping inside and greeting his friend.

Chan hesitates at the door before reluctantly following. Minho is already chatting away, and before long, a drink is being pressed into Chan’s hand.

“Relax,” Minho says, grinning as he sips his drink. “The table’s in the kitchen, but look at it—it’s holding up all the drinks. Can’t exactly take it now, can we?”

Chan’s eyes narrow as he spots the dining table in question, completely covered in bottles and snacks. He exhales sharply, already regretting agreeing to this. “So this is a party. Not a quick errand.”

Minho shrugs, his grin unrepentant. “Two birds, one stone. Come on, have a drink. Socialize a little. You used to be great at this.”

Slumping into a seat, Chan takes a reluctant sip from his drink, more out of necessity than enjoyment. He knows Minho well enough to realize there’s no rushing this.

As the evening drags on, Minho leans back in his chair, eyeing Chan with a mischievous glint. “You ever miss it?”

“Miss what?” Chan asks, his tone clipped.

“The lifestyle,” Minho says, spreading his arms. “No strings, no commitments. Just fun. You were the shit back then. Why’d you give it up?”

Chan takes another sip, avoiding the bait. He knows what Minho’s doing.

Minho smirks, leaning closer. “Me? I don’t get it. Settling down when you could have this.” He gestures around the room. “You’re still young. Still good-looking. You could have it all. Why lock yourself down?”

Chan keeps quiet, his grip tightening on his glass.

Moments later, a group of girls approaches their table, all bright smiles and curious eyes. Minho grins, clearly in his element, and introduces himself—and Chan.

“This is my boy Chris,” Minho says, slinging an arm over Chan’s shoulder. “He’s a legend. Used to be the life of every party.”

The girls giggle, their attention now focused on Chan, who shifts uncomfortably. Leaning in close, Minho whispers in Chan’s ear, his tone low and tempting. “You can have fun, you know. No one’s going to find out. I won’t tell her.”

Chan’s jaw tightens, the words cutting through him like a blade. He sets his glass down, staring at the table. This is what Minho wants—to see if he’ll crack, to see if he’ll slip back into old habits.

But Chan knows better. He’s not that person anymore. And he’s not about to prove Minho right.

-

The moment Chan leaves, you find yourself wandering around his apartment. Though you've been here countless times, something about being alone in his space feels different. It’s like you’re seeing it through fresh eyes—the meticulous way he keeps everything in order, the slight personal touches that reflect his personality.

You run your fingers along the edge of his desk, smiling at the neatly stacked papers and perfectly aligned pens. His living room is spotless, not a cushion out of place. Even his shoe rack catches your attention, with every pair arranged in perfect color coordination.

When you peek into his bathroom, you can’t help but chuckle softly. His toiletries are lined up like soldiers on parade, everything from his toothbrush to his cologne standing in perfect order. It’s so Chan—practical, disciplined, and oddly endearing.

As you wander further, you pass by the laundry room and pause. A small pile of clothes spills out of the dryer. Without thinking, you step inside, deciding to fold them for him.

You reach for the first item, a hoodie you’ve seen him wear so many times before. Lifting it to your nose, you inhale deeply. The scent of fabric softener mingles with the faint, familiar smell of Chan himself—clean, warm, and comforting. An unexpected ache blooms in your chest, a longing for him even though he was right here just hours ago.

Smiling to yourself, you finish folding the clothes and set them neatly on the counter. You glance at the clock, realizing it’s later than you thought, and decide to wait for him to come back. You make your way to his bedroom, lying down on the bed that smells just as much like him as the hoodie did. It doesn’t take long for sleep to claim you.

-

As the night drags on, Chan finally decides he’s had enough. He stands, leaving his half-finished drink on the table, and starts making his way toward the door. The noise and chatter fade into the background as his only focus is getting out of this suffocating situation.

“Leaving already?” Minho’s voice cuts through the din, and Chan turns to see him catching up, his grin still infuriatingly smug. “What’s the rush, man? We haven’t even moved the table yet.”

Chan sighs, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not wasting any more time here. You didn’t need me for this. You just wanted an excuse to drag me into your mess.”

Minho laughs, stepping in front of him to block his path. “You’re so obedient these days. Might as well put a leash around your neck and hand it over to her, huh?”

Chan’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “Move, Minho.”

Minho tilts his head, mock curiosity in his eyes. “What’s the rush? Afraid she’ll get mad at you for staying out too late? Or is it guilt because you know I’m right?”

Chan glares at him, but doesn’t respond. Instead, he pushes past, his hand already on the doorknob.

But Minho isn’t done. “You know, relationships like yours don’t last long,” he says, his tone deliberately casual. “Guys like you? You get bored. You might not want to admit it, but I know you, Chris. You’ll start to crave what you gave up. And her?”

Chan freezes, his grip tightening on the doorknob.

Minho takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a mockingly sympathetic tone. “She doesn’t even address the relationship, does she? Never flaunts it publicly. Almost like she’s already bored of you. But hey, maybe that’s a good thing. Makes it easier for you to go back to your old self.”

Chan exhales sharply, his knuckles white as he grips the doorknob. He turns his head slightly, just enough to meet Minho’s gaze. “I’m not the same as you, Minho.”

With that, he steps out, slamming the door behind him. The cool night air hits him, but it does little to cool the frustration simmering in his chest.

As he walks away, Minho’s words echo in his mind, planting seeds of doubt he desperately doesn’t want to acknowledge.

Is Minho right? Would you get bored of him? Would he?

Chan shakes his head, trying to dispel the thoughts, but they cling to him like shadows, following him all the way home.

-

The sound of the front door opening wakes you. Disoriented, you scramble out of bed, brushing your hands through your hair as you hurry to greet him.

Chan steps inside, his jacket slung over his arm and a weariness etched into his features. His eyes meet yours briefly, but there’s none of the usual warmth in them.

“Hey,” you say softly, approaching him. “You look exhausted. Was the furniture that heavy?”

He doesn’t respond, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the back of the couch. His silence makes you hesitate, but you press on. “How was it? Did you—”

“Do you even think of me as your boyfriend?” he suddenly bursts out, his voice sharp and filled with frustration.

The question hits you like a punch to the gut, leaving you momentarily speechless. “What?”

Chan steps closer, his eyes searching yours, his tone a mixture of anger and vulnerability. “Do you? And if you do, why don’t you ever talk about us? Why don’t you ever want anyone to know? Do you want this relationship? Or are you already bored with me?”

You stare at him, completely thrown off by the intensity of his words. You’ve never seen him like this before—so raw, so unguarded. It’s clear something is bothering him deeply, but you can’t figure out what triggered it.

“Do you even want to be with me?”

“Chris…” you begin, but your voice trails off when you see the exhaustion in his eyes.

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair and turns his back to you, avoiding your eyes. “I’m not feeling well tonight.”

You take that as your cue to leave him alone. Nodding, you grab your things, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight,” you whisper before slipping out the door.

As you walk back to your apartment, your mind races. What happened tonight? Why was he so upset? You replay his words over and over, trying to piece together what might have caused such a drastic change in his mood. Something feels off, and you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t just about tonight.

-

The next morning, you find yourself standing in front of Chan’s door, your knuckles poised mid-air. You’ve been replaying last night’s events over and over, trying to make sense of his sudden outburst.

You knock softly once, then twice. On the third knock, you pause, lowering your hand. Maybe he’s still sleeping. He probably needs the rest, you think to yourself, chewing on your bottom lip as you hesitate to disturb him further.

Just as you’re about to turn and leave, the door across the hall creaks open. Minho steps out, his ever-present smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Morning,” he greets casually, leaning against his doorframe as if he’s got all the time in the world.

You offer a polite smile and greet back. “Morning, Minho.”

Deciding not to linger outside Chan’s apartment, you turn and make your way toward the elevator. Minho follows, his footsteps echoing lightly in the hallway.

As you press the button to summon the elevator, you glance at him. “So, did you manage to get that furniture back to your place last night?”

Minho’s smirk widens slightly, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, something like that.”

His vague answer doesn’t sit right with you, but you choose not to press further. Instead, you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking again.

“Minho, can I be honest with you for a second?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Sure.”

You turn to face him fully, meeting his gaze with calm determination. “I like you. I think you’re a great guy, and I really appreciate how friendly you’ve been. But I just want to make sure we’re clear about something.”

He tilts his head slightly, his smirk faltering just a little.

You continue, your voice steady. “I’m with Chris. We’re building something together, and he’s been working really hard on leaving his old habits behind. I know it’s not always easy for him, but he’s trying, and I want to support him in that.”

Minho’s expression doesn’t change much, but there’s a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe—behind his eyes.

“I’d really appreciate it,” you say, your tone firm but not unkind, “if you could stop… whatever it is you’re doing to him. I want us all to stay friendly neighbors, but I need you to respect that Chris and I are in this together.”

For a moment, Minho doesn’t say anything, his smirk fading into a neutral expression. Then he chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You step inside, glancing at him one last time.

“Thanks for understanding, Minho,” you say, offering a small smile.

As the doors close, you can’t help but wonder if your words got through to him. You don’t know what exactly happened last night, but you’re determined not to let anything—or anyone—get in the way of what you’re building with Chan.

-

Chan heard your knocks this morning. He was sitting on the sofa, debating whether to open the door. He wanted to. He even stood up, reaching for the handle, but then your voice carried through the door.

You were talking to Minho.

At first, he tensed, expecting some kind of casual banter, but what he heard instead made him freeze. You were telling Minho off. Not angrily, but in a calm, respectful way that had him smiling despite himself.

Chan leaned against the door, listening to every word, and for the first time in a while, he felt lighter.

Now, as the hours tick by, he waits for you to come home. His ears are tuned to every little sound in the hallway, and when he hears the chime of the elevator, his heart jumps. Without thinking, he scrambles to the peephole. There you are, stepping out of the elevator, looking just as calm and composed as you did this morning.

Chan feels a surge of emotions he can’t quite untangle. Guilt for the things he said last night. Gratitude for the way you stood up for him. Relief that you’re still here.

He retreats back to the sofa, sitting down heavily, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t have a plan. Part of him wants to rush out and hug you, to thank you. Another part reminds him of the way he hurt you last night, and the words that might have planted doubts.

His thoughts spiral until a knock at the door snaps him back to the present. He’s on his feet in an instant, heart racing. When he opens the door and sees you standing there, smiling softly, it takes everything in him not to collapse into you.

“Hey,” you say gently. “Just want to check if you're feeling any better.”

Chan doesn’t respond with words. He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug. His face buries in the crook of your neck, and he breathes you in, letting your presence soothe the storm inside him.

You don’t hesitate. Your arms circle his back, your hand rubbing slow, comforting circles. “Aw, poor baby,” you coo playfully, your voice warm and teasing.

Surprisingly, Chan doesn’t mind. He lets himself melt into your touch, holding you as if you’re the only thing anchoring him. Because right now, that’s exactly what you are.

-

The room is dimly lit, the warm glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows as Chan curls into you on the bed. His head rests against your neck, his arms securely wrapped around your waist as if you’re the only thing tethering him. He sighs softly, comforted by your fingers threading through his curls.

Every now and then, you press a gentle kiss to his head, and Chan feels his heart swell. Moments like these are rare, and he’s determined to soak up every second.

You take his hand, your fingers lightly tracing the rough calluses on his palm. “Where did these come from?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

“Deadlifting,” he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled against your neck.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise. “And how much can you lift?”

“Three-fifty,” he answers casually.

You gasp, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Three-fifty? You can lift that much but crumble like a baby from a slight fever?”

Chan pouts, his lips jutting out adorably as he buries his face deeper into your neck. “That’s different,” he grumbles, voice tinged with mock indignation.

You laugh, the sound light and teasing. “Aw, is my big strong man pouting?” you coo, planting a soft kiss on his pout to make it disappear.

For a moment, everything feels lighthearted and easy, but Chan knows he can’t avoid the topic forever. He exhales deeply, adjusting slightly to look at you. “I need to talk about last night.”

Your fingers pause in his hair, and you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, your eyes filled with understanding. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Chan hesitates for a moment before speaking. “It wasn’t about Minho. Not really. I mean, he has a way of... getting under my skin, but that’s not why I blew up.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s me. My fears, my insecurities. I’ve spent so much time trying to change who I was—trying to be better for you—and sometimes I worry I’m not enough. Or that... you’ll realize I’m not worth it.”

You frown, your hand cupping his cheek. “Do you really think that?”

He nods reluctantly. “Last night, when I said all those things... I didn’t mean them. Not really. I was scared. Scared that maybe you don’t see this—us—the same way I do. And I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

You soften, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Thank you for telling me. And I’m sorry too—for anything I’ve done that made you feel like that. I want you to know that you are enough, Chris. More than enough.”

His chest feels lighter at your words, and he leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around him. “Always.”

As you settle back into the embrace, Chan feels himself relax completely. The warmth of your touch and the reassurance in your words lull him into a sense of peace. His breathing slows, and before he knows it, sleep starts to claim him, safe in the comfort of your love.

-

The sound of soft breathing fills the room as you glance over at Chan, still fast asleep. His features are peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily. You carefully slide out from under his arm, pressing your knuckles gently to his neck to check his temperature. It's lower than before, a relief that makes you smile softly. Quietly, you adjust the blanket over him, tucking him in snugly before stepping out of the room.

Your mind races as you head to your apartment. Dinner time is approaching, and you remember Chan once mentioning his favorite comfort food. It’s been a while since you’ve cooked, but for him, you’re willing to try.

Gathering ingredients from your fridge, you return to his apartment, silently letting yourself in. The kitchen is as neat as always, but it doesn’t take long for it to be filled with the sounds of chopping, sizzling, and the occasional clatter of a utensil. You hum softly as you stir the curry, hoping it will turn out as close as possible to what he likes.

You’re so focused on your task that you don’t notice Chan until you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind. His warmth and familiar scent surround you, and his voice, soft and a little groggy, breaks your concentration. “What you doing?”

You glance over your shoulder, smiling at him. “Making you curry. Thought you might want some comfort food.”

His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, and a small smile tugs at his lips. “You remembered?”

“Of course,” you say, turning back to the stove. “But don’t thank me yet—it could be inedible.”

Chan leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms still loosely around you. “I’m thanking you anyway,” he murmurs.

You try to act unfazed, brushing him off with a teasing smile, but the warmth in his voice makes your heart flutter.

When the curry is finally done, you serve it with some rice and set the plates on the table.

Chan takes a bite, his eyes widening slightly as he chews. He grins, shoveling in another mouthful before looking at you with exaggerated enthusiasm. “This is amazing! Like, Michelin-star worthy. No, better!”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re just saying that because I made it.”

“No, I mean it! This is comfort food and happiness in one bite,” he says, still grinning as he digs in.

Watching him eat so heartily makes you momentarily forget your own plate. He looks so genuinely happy that you can’t help but feel a warm glow in your chest.

“Do you like it?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

“Like it? I love it,” Chan replies, his voice bright and sincere.

As he finishes the last bite, you remember something important. “Oh, by the way, I have to go out of town for work tomorrow. I’ll be back Friday.”

Chan’s expression falls into a dramatic pout. “Who’s going to take care of me while you’re gone?”

You chuckle at his reaction. “Minho can,” you tease, watching as his pout deepens.

“I’ll starve,” he mutters, slumping in his seat.

You roll your eyes and lean closer, gently patting his cheek. “You’ll survive.”

As Chan finishes the last of his curry, he leans back in his chair, looking content and drowsy. His cheeks are slightly flushed, probably from the warmth of the food and the lingering effects of his fever. You watch him quietly, a smile tugging at your lips as he gives you one of his bright, boyish grins.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Nothing,” you reply softly, shaking your head. “Just glad you liked it.”

But it’s not nothing. Not really. As he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand and watching you with those warm, chocolate-brown eyes, something inside you feels steady, sure. This isn’t just a fleeting feeling, a passing infatuation. It’s deeper than that.

In Chan, you see someone who works tirelessly, who loves with everything he has, even when he’s afraid. Someone who has his flaws but owns up to them, who’s willing to grow and try harder. He’s not perfect, but he’s real. He’s kind, patient, and someone who makes you feel safe just by being near.

You reach out, placing your hand on top of his. “You know,” you say softly, your voice carrying a weight of sincerity, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this certain about anything before. About how I feel about someone.”

Chan blinks, caught off guard by your words, but the way his face softens tells you he understands. “Yeah?”

You nod, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “You’re the person I want to be with, Chris.”

For a moment, he’s silent, his expression unreadable. Then, with a shy but radiant smile, he squeezes your hand. “I’m glad. Because… I feel the same.”

The moment feels still, like the world has quieted around the two of you. You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and when you pull back, the look in his eyes is one of pure affection.

“Now,” you say, breaking the quiet with a teasing grin, “finish your curry so I can clean up and start packing for tomorrow.”

Chan laughs, the sound light and happy, and as he dives back into his plate, you can’t help but think that, with him, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

-

Chan wipes his forehead with the towel slung around his neck as he steps into his apartment, still catching his breath from his gym session. The familiar hum of quiet greets him, but his first thought isn’t about the silence—it’s about you.

Grabbing his phone off the counter, he unlocks it with quick swipes, scrolling through to see if there’s a text from you. Nothing. His brows furrow slightly as he opens the messaging app, his thumb hovering over the screen to type. Where are you? he begins, but the sound of a knock at the door stops him mid-sentence.

Setting his phone down, he walks over to the door and opens it, and there you are. Leaning against the doorframe, you look up at him, your eyes wide but glittering with a playful edge. His heart gives an involuntary thump against his ribcage.

“You didn’t text me you were here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, though his mind is already spinning at the way you’re looking at him.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, your gaze drops, roaming over him like you’re savoring every detail. He suddenly becomes hyperaware of himself—his black compression top clinging to his chest, the sheen of sweat on his pale skin, the way his grey sweatpants hang on his hips.

“Hey! Eyes are up here,” he teases lightly, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You blink, snapping yourself out of it with a slightly sheepish but unapologetic grin. “Right. Sorry.”

You straighten up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I just came by to remind you—it’s pajama party tonight. Be ready by 9.”

“Got it,” Chan replies with a nod, though he can’t help noticing the way your eyes still linger on him, making him feel like he’s under a spotlight.

You flash him a sly smile, leaning in close enough for him to catch a hint of your perfume. “I can’t wait for tonight,” you murmur, and before he can say anything else, your lips press against his in a slow, lingering kiss.

When you pull away, your eyes sparkle mischievously, and with one last glance—one that travels shamelessly from his head to his toes—you turn and start walking back to your apartment.

Chan leans against the doorframe, watching you go. You glance back just before closing your door, flashing him another teasing smile that makes his chest tighten and his pulse race.

He closes the door with a soft click, leaning his back against it as he exhales slowly. His pulse is still racing, and it has nothing to do with his post-workout adrenaline. The way you looked at him just now—the glint in your eyes, the sly smile, the lingering kiss—was enough to leave him completely disarmed.

He glances at the clock to check how much time he has until he has to go to your place. His lips tug upward in a small smile as he thinks about it. Pajama parties with you were always something to look forward to, a mix of playful banter, laughter, and quiet moments where the rest of the world seemed to fade away. But the way you'd just looked at him… He had a feeling tonight would be different.

“Cold shower,” he mutters to himself, already heading toward the bathroom. "Definitely need a cold shower."

Shaking his head, he pushes off the door and heads inside the bathroom. The memory of your lingering kiss makes his lips tingle, and he absentmindedly touches them as he grabs a towel.

“You’re really gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles to himself, stepping into the shower and letting the cold water wash over him. It doesn’t do much to cool the warmth that spreads across his chest, though.

As he dries off and changes into something comfortable, his mind drifts back to you—your smile, your voice, the way your eyes seemed to linger on him. He can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Tonight, he tells himself, will be another reminder of just how much you mean to him.

And honestly, he can’t wait.

-

Chan inhales deeply before knocking on your door, his nerves already getting the better of him. He tries to keep calm, shaking out his shoulders and muttering under his breath to steady himself. When the door finally clicks open, and he sees you standing there with that soft, welcoming smile, it’s like the air is stolen from his lungs.

“Hey,” you say gently, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice quieter than usual as he walks into your space.

The scene you’ve set hits him instantly. The lights are dim, candles flicker softly around the room, and the scent of something sweet and warm lingers in the air. You’ve transformed your sofa into a makeshift bed, complete with blankets and pillows, all perfectly angled toward the TV.

It’s obvious you’ve gone all out tonight, and that realization makes Chan’s pulse quicken. He knows where this could lead if he lets it, but he silently resolves not to give in so easily.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you tell him, already heading toward the kitchen.

He nods, sitting on the edge of the sofa and rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to steady his thoughts. You’re just here to watch a movie. Keep it together, Chan.

When you return, balancing a tray of snacks in your hands, Chan smiles at the sight of you—until you set the tray down and shrug off your silk robe.

His throat goes dry.

You’re wearing a silk slip dress that clings to your figure in all the right ways, but what nearly makes him lose composure is the white stockings you’ve paired with it. He swallows hard, suddenly hyperaware of how close you’re standing.

You sit next to him, curling your legs up on the sofa as you flash him a teasing smile. “Ready?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, clearing his throat as he fixes his attention on the TV.

The movie starts, and Chan leans back slightly, trying to focus on the screen. But then you shift closer, snuggling into his side, your warmth seeping through his clothes.

“So, how was your day?” you ask casually, your fingers grazing his arm.

“Good,” he manages, his voice steady despite the way his heart is hammering. “Spent most of it at the gym.”

“Is that why you're so tense?” you murmur, your hands sliding to his shoulders. Before he can respond, you’re massaging the knots in his muscles with deliberate care.

Chan sucks in a breath, closing his eyes briefly as he mutters, “I–I'm fine.”

You hum softly, but from the corner of his eye, he notices you’re barely watching the movie. Your gaze is on him, studying him with an expression that’s both mischievous and affectionate.

“This is a good movie,” he says, desperate to break the tension.

“You’re a good movie,” you tease back, your tone light but laced with heat.

Before he can protest, your lips brush against his neck, slow and deliberate. Chan’s breath catches, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his resolve wavers.

“Focus,” he whispers to himself, gripping the edge of the blanket tightly.

You don’t make it easy for him, planting more soft, heated kisses along his neck, your hands tracing slow patterns over his chest.

Somehow, by sheer willpower, Chan makes it to the end of the movie, though he has no idea what happened onscreen. His thoughts were too consumed with resisting the endless temptations you threw his way.

As the credits roll on the movie, Chan exhales a long breath, his muscles tense from an evening spent in quiet restraint. He feels like he’s been holding his breath the entire time, caught between wanting to let himself relax and staying vigilant.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, standing up and heading to the bathroom.

Once inside, Chan splashes cold water on his face, gripping the edge of the sink as he stares at his reflection. Get it together, he tells himself. You’ve made it this far.

He dries his face, takes a steadying breath, and steps back into the living room. The sight waiting for him freezes him in place.

You’re lying on your side, one arm propping your head up, the hem of your silk slip dress riding high up your thigh. His eyes trail down, catching a glimpse of the garter encircling your leg—a detail so provocative it sends his resolve teetering on the edge.

Chan swallows hard, forcing his face to remain impassive as he approaches the sofa. “So,” he says casually, his voice steady despite the way his heart races, “what movie are we watching next?”

You smirk, your eyes sparkling with mischief. Instead of answering right away, you reach out, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down beside you. Chan lets himself be tugged into the space next to you, your warmth immediately invading his senses.

You lean in closer, your voice low and teasing as you finally reply, “What you’re watching next… is me.”

Chan freezes, his breath catching as your words sink in. For a split second, his mind goes blank, and then he feels the corner of his lips curve into a smile, his carefully constructed resolve cracking just slightly.

“That’s it! I give up,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with a mix of amusement and surrender. He takes you by the waist with force, sending the two of you collapsing onto the mattress.

-

A triumphant smile spreads across your face as Chan finally gives in, his whispered declaration of defeat filling the quiet air between you. Before you can say a word, his lips find yours, urgent yet tender, his hands gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you. Though you're already straddling him, he pulls you closer, closing any remaining distance as if afraid of letting you slip away.

His lips wander to your neck, brushing soft, tickling kisses that make your shoulders twitch in delight. You can’t help but giggle, the sound light and airy in the warmth of the moment. When his head tilts up to meet your gaze, you gently cradle his face in your hands, his flushed cheeks warm beneath your palms.

“Chris,” you begin, voice steady yet filled with quiet conviction. “I’m ready. Let’s do this. You and me.”

Chan freezes, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat too long. The silence stretches thin, but then he pulls you into another kiss. This time, it’s different—deep, deliberate, and brimming with every emotion he can’t put into words. Your hand presses to his chest, and beneath your fingertips, you feel the frantic, erratic rhythm of his heart.

It gives you pause. You pull back slightly, just enough to study his face. His breathing is shallow now, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Concern prickles at the edges of your joy. “Are you okay?” you ask softly, brushing your fingers along his jaw.

“I’m fine,” he replies, but his voice is barely above a whisper, and it doesn’t convince you.

His heartbeat only quickens, thundering against your hand, and a flicker of panic crosses his eyes. “Chris,” you murmur, your worry rising. You start to slide off his lap, intending to get him some water or give him space, but his arms tighten around your waist.

“Don’t,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly as he holds you close. His lips part, struggling to form the words. Finally, with a quiet, almost trembling breath, he confesses, “I love you.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice makes your chest tighten. The weight of his words lingers in the air, fragile and unguarded. Suddenly, everything makes sense—his uneven breathing, his racing heart. It wasn’t fear, but the overwhelming intensity of his feelings for you.

Relief floods through you, and you let out a soft sigh, cupping his face gently. “Gosh, you worried me,” you murmur, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. Pressing your forehead to his, you let out a slow, steady breath, grounding both him and yourself in the moment.

Gathering your courage, you lean in and press a feather-light kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Chris. So much,” you whisper, your voice trembling with sincerity.

His eyes search yours, wide and hopeful, his emotions laid bare. As the tension melts from his body, he exhales deeply, a sound filled with relief and quiet joy. You stay like that, foreheads touching, your breaths mingling in the shared stillness.

Gradually, the wild rhythm of his heart begins to settle, syncing with the steady cadence of your own. In that moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you—connected, understood, and wholly in love.

-

Chan towers over you, his eyes dark with want as he works with practiced ease, removing each piece of clothing until there’s nothing left but the soft white stockings clinging to your legs. You feel the heat of his gaze, the weight of his admiration, and it sends a thrill coursing through you.

Your lips curl into a sly smile as you meet his eyes. “This isn’t fair,” you say, your voice low and teasing. “Take it off.”

He doesn’t argue. With a grin that makes your breath hitch, Chan reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the chiseled perfection of his chest and abs. The sight steals the air from your lungs—it always does. No matter how many times you’ve seen him like this, it feels like the first, like you’re witnessing something sacred.

You sit up slowly, your gaze locked on the hard ridges of his torso. Your fingers lift almost instinctively, tracing the outline of his muscles, the way his body shifts and flexes beneath your touch. His skin is warm, smooth, and alive under your fingertips.

Leaning forward, you press your lips to his abs, soft at first, letting them linger for a moment before moving to the next spot. You taste the faint salt of his skin, the heat of him, and it makes your pulse quicken. His breath hitches as your kisses turn bolder, your tongue flicking out to trace along the defined lines.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you gently nip at his skin, your teeth grazing just enough to tease. The sound is playful, dripping with mischief, and you feel a rush of satisfaction when his body tenses in response.

You glance up, catching his gaze. His smile is tender yet filled with unmistakable desire, his dimples deepening in a way that makes your heart flutter. There’s something intoxicating about the way he looks at you, like you’re his entire world.

You let your lips trail lower, your fingers continuing their journey, savoring every second. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, a silent declaration of your adoration. You linger, taking your time, committing the feel of him, the taste of him, to memory.

And as you feel him relax under your touch, you can’t help but smile, knowing he’s completely and utterly yours in this moment.

You brace your hands against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. With a sudden surge of boldness, you push him down, catching him completely off guard. He falls back onto the bed with a soft grunt, his sly, mischievous grin spreading wider as he looks up at you.

You straddle him, your thighs framing his waist, and his gaze darkens with anticipation. There’s nothing between you now, and the heat radiating from his body only fuels your desire.

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” you confess, your voice low and dripping with intent. “Of riding your abs.”

His brows lift, and his dimples deepen as he lets out a low, amused chuckle. “Yeah?” His voice is a rich hum of approval, laced with arousal. “Then don’t let me stop you.”

He props his hands behind his head, his biceps flexing as he settles back to watch you. “Do whatever you want, baby,” he murmurs, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m all yours.”

You feel a rush of exhilaration as you scoot forward, positioning yourself so that your core hovers above his perfectly sculpted abdomen. Slowly, deliberately, you lower yourself, your wetness meeting the firm ridges of his abs. His body tenses beneath you, muscles hardening, and you gasp softly as the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you.

Chan flexes beneath you intentionally, giving you exactly what you need, and the friction only heightens the thrill coursing through your veins. You begin to roll your hips, dragging yourself along the hard contours of his body, painting him with your essence.

Your head tilts back as a moan slips from your lips, the sensation unlike anything you’ve felt before. His hands remain where they are, but his eyes follow your every movement, dark and heated, his mouth slightly parted as if he can feel every wave of pleasure you’re experiencing.

“Look at you, baby. So perfect,” he murmurs, his voice strained with desire.

The way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing in the world—makes your pulse race even faster. His chest rises and falls steadily beneath your palms, but there’s a tension in his body, a barely contained restraint that tells you he’s just as affected as you are.

You grind harder, your movements becoming more erratic as your pleasure builds, and the sound of your moans fills the room. Chan watches you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his tone low and reverent. “Take what you need, baby.”

And you do—letting go of everything else and losing yourself in the intoxicating rhythm of your body against his, feeling completely and utterly alive under his gaze.

-

Your body is a vision before him, a masterpiece of curves and softness that Chan could never tire of admiring. As you settle onto your hands and knees, the arch of your back catches his breath in his throat, the way it flows so naturally into the curve of your hips. He's already buried deep inside you, but the way your body welcomes him only fuels his desire to savor every single moment.

His hand glides down your spine, his touch reverent as though he's committing every dip and line to memory. The softness of your skin makes him whimper—a sound he doesn’t try to hide—his fingers trailing upward until they reach the nape of your neck. Without hesitation, he tangles his hand into your hair, gently tugging to tilt your head to the side, baring the column of your neck for his lips.

He dips down, pressing hot kisses along the sensitive skin, each one deliberate and full of hunger. The way you shiver under him only spurs him on, and he tightens his grip, tugging your head back further. Your lips part slightly, just enough for him to claim them in a rough, demanding kiss, the kind that leaves no room for doubt about who you belong to in this moment.

Without warning, Chan begins to move, his hips setting a steady rhythm that has you gasping into his mouth. The way your body reacts to him, the way you’re already melting under his touch, sends a rush of satisfaction through him. He grins against your lips, knowing he’s in complete control, playing with the balance of gentle and rough in a way that keeps you guessing.

“God,” he groans, his voice deep and strained. “You’re so perfect like this. Do you know what you do to me?”

Your moans grow louder, and Chan feels your body start to tremble. He knows you’re close, and it only drives him to push you further. His lips trail back to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs, “Bite the pillow, baby. I’m not holding back anymore.”

With that, he releases your hair, letting your head fall forward onto the pillow. He watches as you follow his command, sinking your teeth into the fabric while your hands clutch the sheets. The sight sends a fresh wave of arousal through him, and he plants both hands firmly on your hips.

Then he lets loose. His thrusts become harder, faster, each one drawing a sharp cry from your lips muffled by the pillow. His grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he drives into you with relentless intensity. Sweat beads on his forehead and runs down his chest, but he doesn’t slow down—not until he feels you clench around him, your body trembling violently as your release washes over you.

“That's it,” he growls, his own pleasure building to its peak. “Let go for me. Come for me, baby.”

The way you pulse around him is almost too much to bear, but he keeps going, determined to give you everything before letting himself fall over the edge. And when he finally does, it’s with a guttural groan, his body shuddering as he pours himself into you completely, lost in the overwhelming sensation of having you in every possible way.

Chan watches as your body shudders beneath him, the aftershocks of your climax slowly ebbing away. He gives you a moment to recover, his hands gently tracing soothing patterns over your hips and lower back. Carefully, he pulls out of you and rolls you onto your back, his movements tender as though handling the most precious thing in the world.

His eyes search your face, concerned yet soft. “Are you okay?” he murmurs, brushing a stray strand of hair from your damp forehead.

You meet his gaze with a weak but contented smile, nodding. “I’m okay.”

Chan leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek, and finally to your lips. “Good,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of relief and affection.

He gives you another moment, letting you bask in the afterglow. His lips pepper soft kisses along your collarbone and shoulders, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, grounding you in the tenderness of the moment. You let out a small, blissful sigh, and he can’t help the smile tugging at his lips.

When you start shifting under him, signaling that you're ready, Chan positions himself between your legs again. He kisses you deeply, his lips molding to yours as if trying to convey everything he feels but can’t say. Then, he enters you once more, this time with infinite care, his movements slow and deliberate.

His thrusts are unhurried, every roll of his hips designed to make you feel cherished. His lips barely leave yours, his kisses deep and consuming. When he pulls back to breathe, he whispers sweet nothings against your lips, his voice a soothing melody.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze locked with yours. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

Your hands find each other amidst the tangle of sheets, fingers lacing together as you share this quiet intimacy. Chan feels something new, something deeper—a connection that goes beyond the physical. For the first time, he feels like he’s truly becoming one with you, not just in body but in soul.

The sheen of sweat on your skin doesn’t matter. The messy sheets don’t matter. All that exists in this moment is you and him, moving together in perfect harmony.

When the two of you finally reach your peak, it’s as if time slows, the world narrowing to the shared rhythm of your breaths and the racing of your hearts. He presses his forehead to yours, groaning your name as you both shatter together, your bodies trembling in unison.

After a long moment, Chan shifts slightly to look at you, his expression soft and full of adoration. “How you doing?”

You let out a tired laugh, your voice teasing. “Remind me to send a thank-you note to your personal trainer.”

Chan blinks, then bursts out laughing, his chest shaking as he collapses beside you. “Oh, gosh,” he says between his shy laughs, pulling you into his arms.

You nestle against him, a playful grin tugging at your lips as you add. “That if my hand can ever grip a pen again.”

Chan shakes his head, still laughing as he presses a kiss to your temple. “I think I’ll keep that note for myself,” he murmurs. “After all, I’m the one who gets to make you feel this good.”

You hum in agreement, your smile softening as you drift into the comfort of his embrace. And as the two of you lie there, tangled together, Chan feels a deep sense of contentment, knowing this moment is one he’ll carry with him forever.

-

The movie is long forgotten, a faint hum in the background as Chan lies sprawled on top of you, his body perfectly molded to yours on the makeshift sofa bed. His head rests just above your chest, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat grounding him. Your fingers weave through his curls, gentle and soothing, while he trails soft kisses across your chest, his lips brushing against your skin like whispered confessions.

He’s elated—completely and utterly elated. The words you said to him, “I love you too,” keep replaying in his mind, wrapping around his heart and filling him with a joy he can hardly contain.

He lifts his head slightly to look at your face, illuminated softly by the glow of the room. You’re so beautiful, so perfect, and it feels like this moment is too good to be true. His chest tightens with emotion, and for a fleeting second, he wonders if he needs to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.

“What are you thinking, mmh?” you ask, your voice soft and teasing as your fingers trace his temple.

Chan hesitates for just a moment before answering, his voice low and earnest. “I’ve been thinking about the future. About you being in it. And how… happy that makes me. For the first time, I can’t wait to live that future with you.”

Your lips curve into a playful smile. “Oh yeah? What kind of future are we talking about?”

His cheeks flush slightly, but the words come naturally. “A house. A family. Seven kids. And a dog, of course.”

Your eyes widen, and you gasp in mock horror. “Seven kids? Are you serious? You’d better find another girlfriend if you want seven kids because I’m not doing that.”

He grumbles, a mix of amusement and protest, and buries his head into your neck. The scent of you, the warmth of your skin—it’s all so grounding.

“Too late! You can't back out now,” he mumbles against your collarbone as he possessively holds you. “This fuckboy is yours.”

Your laughter vibrates through him as you wrap your arms tighter around him, holding him close. You press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he feels himself melting further into your embrace.

Chan closes his eyes, sinking deeper into your warmth. For the first time in his life, he feels like he’s standing at the beginning of his happy ending—and he’s never felt so sure about anything.

-

As Chan watches you sitting at the vanity, carefully applying your makeup, he still can’t believe this is his life now. This is his morning—seeing your face illuminated by soft daylight, your focused expression softening whenever you notice him watching. It feels surreal, like the culmination of every quiet dream he’s ever dared to have.

You catch his gaze in the mirror and smile, and Chan’s heart squeezes. He walks over, placing a cup of coffee on the table in front of you, and leans down to kiss the top of your head.

“Thanks, baby,” you say, turning to press a quick peck on his lips before going back to your routine.

As you finish getting ready, Chan busies himself, making sure your bag is packed and you’ve got everything you need for the day. When it’s time to leave, he walks with you to the door.

At the elevator, you pull him into a kiss, your hands resting gently on his chest. He savors the moment, every second a reminder of how deeply he’s fallen for you. When you pull away, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his voice soft as he asks, “Want me to pick you up at the bus stop later?”

You shake your head, slipping a spare key into his hand. “Or you can wait at my place instead.”

Chan stares at the key in his palm, overwhelmed by what it means. It’s not just a key—it’s your trust, your willingness to let him into your life even more deeply. His chest tightens with gratitude and joy, and he leans in for another kiss, slow and lingering, pouring all of his emotions into it.

The sound of a door opening down the hall interrupts the moment. Chan pulls back, turning his head, bracing himself for one of Minho’s sarcastic remarks. But instead, Minho’s door swings open to reveal Sue stepping out.

Chan freezes as Sue says something to Minho, who smirks and leans down to kiss her. The shock must be written all over Chan’s face because Sue looks startled when she notices him.

Minho, on the other hand, is his usual unbothered self, raising a hand in a casual wave. “Morning!” he calls out with a sly grin.

Sue walks toward the elevator, her steps hesitant, and exchanges an awkward smile with Chan. “Hey, Chris.”

“Morning, Sue,” Chan replies with a smile.

“So... This must be the girl you’ve talked about,” she says, glancing at you.

Chan’s cheeks burn as he nods and glances at you. “Yeah. This is my girlfriend.”

You smile warmly, looking between Sue and Chan. “Oh, is this Sue? The one you had a crush on when you were a teenager?”

Chan groans, embarrassed, as Sue’s eyes widen before both you and Sue burst into laughter. Thankfully, the elevator comes and saves Chan from further embarrassment.

“Good taste, Chris,” Sue teases, giving him a wink before stepping into the elevator.

You press a quick kiss to Chan’s lips before joining Sue in the elevator. “See you later!” you call out as the doors close.

Chan stands there for a moment, the absurdity of it all sinking in. His first love meeting his current girlfriend—and laughing together, no less. Added with the fact that Sue is also hooking up with the neighbor he hates so much, Minho. He shakes his head, chuckling softly to himself as he walks back to your apartment, amazed at the twists life throws his way.

Back inside your apartment, Chan locks the door behind him, letting out a deep sigh as he leans against it. He turns the spare key over in his hand, still marveling at how much his life has changed.

The morning had been a whirlwind, but somehow, it left him feeling more grounded than ever. Watching you confidently interact with Sue—teasing him like it was the most natural thing in the world—only solidified his feelings. It struck him that while his first love had been a naive dream, you were his reality, and everything about it felt right.

He makes his way to the sofa, the scent of your perfume lingering faintly in the air. Sitting down, Chan stares out the window, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Life had a funny way of surprising him, weaving paths together in ways he couldn’t have imagined. And now, holding the key to your apartment, it feels like a metaphor for more than just trust—it’s an open door to the future you’re building together.

Chan leans back, running a hand through his curls. His phone buzzes on the table, and he picks it up to see a text from you.

“Miss me yet? ;)”

He shakes his head, grinning as he types back:

“Always.”

As he hits send, Chan realizes he’s not just happy—he’s completely at peace. For the first time, the unknown doesn’t scare him. He’s not caught up in what might have been or what could go wrong. Instead, he’s focused on what’s in front of him and what’s to come.

And he knows, without a doubt, that it’s you.

-

Support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or consider tipping me on my ko-fi!

@svintsandghosts @abiaswreck @ppiri-bahng @drhsthl @idkluvutellme @biribarabiribbaem @skz-streamer @biancaness @hanjisunginc @elizalabs3 @laylasbunbunny @kpopformylife @caitlyn98s @hann1bee @mamieishere @is2cb97 @marvelous-llama @bluenights1899 @sherryblossom @toplinehyunjin @hanjisbeloved @sunnyseungup @skz4lifer @stellasays45 @severeanxietyissues @avyskai @imseungminsgf @silentreadersthings @army-stay-noel @rylea08 @simeonswhore @yubinism @devilsmatches @septicrebel @rairacha @ven-fic-recs @hyunjiinnnn @lostgirlinthewoodss @schniti-is-in-the-house @jisunglyricist @minh0scat @simplymoo @inlovewithstraykids

[goldfades]

paige bueckers x medic reader blurb

idk why this has been on my mind but here's something to feed you guys while i recover from whatever the fuck last semester was

here’s the thing about paige bueckers: she’s annoying.

not in the throw-your-clipboard, tear-your-hair-out kind of way, but in the she’s-too-charming-for-her-own-good kind of way. the kind that makes your pulse skitter and your cheeks burn, and—worst of all—she knows it.

you’re certain she figured it out the first time she winked at you during pre-season. she’d just finished a shooting drill, her braid swinging like a metronome as she jogged over to your side of the court, flashing that grin—the one that’s equal parts mischief and sunshine.

“think i’m pushing it too hard, doc?” she asked, her hand brushing yours when you handed her a water bottle. your stuttered response? a dead giveaway.

and now, it’s practically her sport. teasing you, that is. not basketball though she’s otherworldly at that too. but here she is, six months post-acl surgery, stuck in the monotony of rehab, and somehow still making you feel like the one who’s sweating under bright gym lights.

“you’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you?” her voice cuts through your focus as you jot down notes on her progress for the day. when you glance up, she’s watching you from the training table, her injured leg stretched out in front of her, an ice pack wrapped snug around her knee. her head tilts, blonde strands falling loose from her messy bun, and there it is—that look.

“i don’t even know what you mean by that,” you mutter, knowing full well she’s waiting for you to take the bait.

she leans back on her elbows, her lips curving into a slow smile. “i’m just saying, if you don’t stay close, how am i supposed to recover? pretty sure moral support is in your job description.”

you roll your eyes, even as your heart hammers against your ribs. “pretty sure my job description is making sure you don’t blow out your knee again, bueckers.”

“so you do care about me.” her voice lilts, sing-song and undeniably smug, and god, you’re starting to regret all the years you spent chasing a degree instead of learning how to mask a blush.

you try not to sigh too loudly, scribbling something on the clipboard even though it’s just a nervous scribble now. she’s watching you like she knows—because, of course, she does. she always knows. it’s like she has a sixth sense for your embarrassment, and worse, she’s figured out exactly how to weaponize it.

“i care about all my patients,” you say, finally looking up from your notes to meet her gaze. it’s meant to come off clinical, professional, but the way her eyes sparkle makes you feel like you’ve said something embarrassingly sweet instead.

“but do you care about me more?” she asks, tilting her head, her voice dripping with fake innocence.

you deadpan her. “paige.”

“what?” she grins wider now, the kind of grin that should probably come with a warning label. “i’m just trying to gauge my ranking on the medic hierarchy. am i at least in the top five?”

“you’re lucky you even have a ranking,” you mutter, setting the clipboard down and moving closer to check her ice pack. you’re trying—really trying—not to make a big deal about how close you are to her now. but then her hand shifts, casually brushing against yours as she adjusts the pack herself.

and just like that, your resolve? gone.

“aww, come on,” she says softly, her voice lower now, almost teasingly gentle. “you can admit it. i’m your favorite.”

your lips press into a thin line as you busy yourself with checking the straps on the ice pack. “you’re impossible.”

“you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” she counters, and it’s so smooth, so shameless, that you actually pause mid-motion.

you glance at her, half tempted to say something snarky, but she’s already watching you with this expression that’s somehow both playful and too much. like she’s trying to figure you out and enjoy herself at the same time. it’s unfair, really.

“is this what you spend your time thinking about?” you ask, attempting to sound exasperated. “ways to embarrass me?”

“not just ways to embarrass you,” she says, and the mock sincerity in her tone is criminal. “also ways to make you smile. you should smile more, you know.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to give her the satisfaction, even though—damn it—you’re already fighting the urge to crack a grin. she sees it, of course. she always sees it.

“you’re insufferable,” you mumble, stepping back to grab another piece of equipment you need for her session.

“but you like me anyway,” she calls after you, her voice sing-song.

you don’t respond this time, opting instead to take an extra moment to gather your thoughts while pretending to look for something in the cabinet. when you turn back around, she’s already back to lounging on the training table, her arms folded behind her head like she’s posing for a magazine spread.

“okay, let’s get serious,” you say, trying to steer the conversation back to anything resembling professionalism. “how’s the pain today? any stiffness?”

she shrugs, but there’s a flicker of something more serious in her expression. “a little. nothing crazy.”

“you need to let me know if it gets worse,” you remind her, stepping closer to start her mobility exercises. “overdoing it isn’t going to help your recovery.”

“yes, ma’am,” she says, her tone light, but you catch the way her eyes soften when she watches you. it’s different from her usual teasing—quieter, more thoughtful—and for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with it.

you busy yourself with guiding her through the exercises, focusing on the mechanics, the angles, the movements. but it’s hard to ignore the way she keeps glancing at you, her smile smaller now but no less present.

“you’re good at this,” she says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

you blink, looking up at her. “at what?”

“this,” she gestures vaguely, her hand moving to encompass the room, the exercises, you. “taking care of people. making them feel like they’re gonna be okay, even when they’re not sure they will be.”

her words catch you off guard, and for a second, you don’t know how to respond. it’s so… earnest. too earnest for someone who’s usually throwing out flirty one-liners and over-the-top winks.

“that’s… my job,” you manage to say, your voice quieter now.

she shakes her head, her gaze never leaving yours. “nah. it’s more than that. you’re more than that.”

and just like that, the air feels heavier, charged with something you can’t quite name. she doesn’t say anything else, just watches you with those impossibly blue eyes, like she’s waiting for you to say something back.

but all you can do is focus on the way your heart is racing, the way her words linger, soft and unshakable, in the space between you.

it was hard to forget the day it happened. the sound of it—a sickening pop that cut through the air like a gunshot—still haunted you sometimes, echoing in your mind when the gym got too quiet. you’d been courtside, clipboard in hand, watching as paige went down. she didn’t get up right away. that was how you knew it was bad.

paige bueckers wasn’t the type to stay down. she played like she was invincible, like nothing could touch her. but that day, she just lay there, clutching her knee, her face twisted in pain. it wasn’t just the physical agony that got to her, though; it was something deeper. you could see it in her eyes when she finally looked at you as you rushed to her side—this raw, unfiltered fear. like she’d just watched her whole world shatter in an instant.

“is it bad?” she’d asked, her voice barely above a whisper as you carefully assessed her knee. there was a tremble in it that you weren’t used to hearing, and it made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

“we’re gonna take care of you,” you’d said, dodging the question because you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the truth. not yet.

she’d nodded, but her jaw was clenched, her hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the bench where you’d helped her sit. and when the scans came back, confirming what you’d already suspected, the devastation in her face nearly broke you.

the weeks that followed were some of the hardest you’d ever seen her endure. paige wasn’t herself—not the confident, fiery leader everyone knew and loved. she was quieter, angrier, and you could tell she was struggling to keep it all together. rehab was slow and painful, and there were days when she’d show up to the training room with this blank look in her eyes, like she wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same again.

but then, there were the moments when you caught a glimpse of the paige you knew. the one who refused to stay down for long. like the time she’d walked in with her crutches slung over one shoulder, grinning like she’d just won a championship. “figured i should start carrying these instead of letting them carry me,” she’d joked, and for the first time in weeks, you’d seen a flicker of that unshakable determination in her.

those moments grew more frequent as time went on. she threw herself into her recovery with a single-minded focus that was equal parts inspiring and infuriating. there were times you had to physically stop her from pushing herself too hard, reminding her that she wasn’t invincible. but she’d just roll her eyes and flash you that grin, saying something like, “gotta keep you on your toes, doc.”

and now, watching her sit on the training table, her ice pack wrapped around her knee and her confidence radiating from every pore, it was hard to reconcile this version of her with the one you’d seen at her lowest. the injury hadn’t just changed her; it had shaped her, strengthened her in ways that even she probably didn’t fully understand.

“what are you thinking about?” she asks suddenly, breaking through your thoughts. her voice is lighter now, teasing as always, but there’s a softness in her gaze that catches you off guard.

you hesitate for a moment before shrugging, a small smile tugging at your lips. “just thinking about how far you’ve come.”

she raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “yeah? and what’s the verdict?”

“the verdict,” you say, setting your clipboard down and meeting her gaze, “is that you’re still a pain in the ass.”

her laugh is loud and genuine, echoing through the room in a way that makes your chest feel a little lighter. “you love it, though,” she says, grinning like she knows a secret.

and maybe she does. because no matter how many times she teases you, or how much she flusters you, you can’t help but admire her resilience—the way she got back up when the world tried to keep her down.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[pha55ed]

I'll Be Home || F1/F2

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: you introduce him to your family, he's terrified by he still pulls through

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

When you told Carlos to come to your family's party, he instantly accepted with glee. Except, right after he began to panic and process the preparation needed to go into this. It was sweet to see his smile drop so quickly, meaning he put his thinking mode on.

Despite Carlos being loved by so many, he's still so nervous. You both sit in the car for almost 5 minutes just chatting to help calm him down. He's fidgeting with his hands, pushing his hair back and forth to perfect it, and he's doing his best to remember the ice-breakers he learned online.

"I promise, they'll love you no matter what." You say, grabbing his hands to stop his constant fidgeting. "You're going to do great!"

You knew he was going to try and "but" you so you quickly jumped outside the car. Which made his jaw drop, since he swore to forever open every door for you, no matter what. Instantly, he runs outside of the car and before you can even step 2 feet away from the car, he gently pushes you back into the car and shut the door.

He's saying something outside of the door, definitely complaining about losing his streak. By the time he opens the door for you, gently reaching for your hand to bring you inside, you can see most of your family outside ready to greet you.

Carlos is embarrassed, terrified that he just seemed like a controlling monster. But you knew your family, and you knew they would have adored his commitment to treating you like a princess. And you were right, they greeted him with welcome arms and loved his gesture.

Charles Leclerc | 16

He was well prepared for this day. It was like he was training to be in the military. The day you invited him to your family dinner, he's been grinding day and night to create the most perfect answers and conversation starters. He had his outfit ready and steamed, shoes cleaned, and even did an intense night routine to prepare.

So when he comes to your family's house, he's well prepared. You can't help but try to hold your laugh back at how serious he's taking this all. All your effort to hold back the laugh instantly comes out the second Charles begin to speak to them, because his chill-rich-nonchalant act came apart so quickly.

Your family brings up anything and instantly Charles is unable to hold back a fun fact he knows. Even something as random as a bananas then turned into: "Did you know if you add them to smoothies, it actually ruins the vitamins of the other fruits? I also dressed up as one on stream haha! Look!"

He's also unable to hold the touch guy persona with the kids. They instantly melt him, making stupid jokes with them. He's severely behind on trends though... Mentioning whips and nae-naes, the troll face, and G-mod. But that's fine, it makes the kids giggle at his old knowledge.

He's even acting like a fool with the dog. Trying to get the dogs to sit, roll over, and failing miserably. It makes everyone laugh and chuckle at him. But it's not at his expense, but instead at the pure energy he has to become part of this family. Which makes him instantly accepted by everyone in your family, including the dogs.

Lando Norris | 04

Before his fuck-boy reputation, there was rookie-Lando. The sweet boy who didn't grow pubes yet,,, somehow... And although you met Lando in his new era, filled with confidence and sass, you saw the real him behind his persona.

His palms were sweating, his voice was slightly higher, and his smile was flashing every second out of nerves. Anyone could tell he was nervous, he looked like a high schooler about to give a presentation. You two sat in the car, about to leave but he gently asked you:

"Can we stay in here for a minute?" He asks, turning to you as he fixes his sweater.

You were confused slightly. It was normal when you asked to stay in the car for a minute to redo your lip combo, since he usually ate it off of you. But Lando doesn't have a lip combo, or any makeup at all.

"I'm just," He could tell you were puzzled, "Nervous.. I wanna just talk to you, get the nerves out."

You smile at his words, he looked so cute being so nervous to meet your family of weirdos. "Lando, you'll do great! I know for a fact that they're going to love-"

"No no. I don't need reassurance or anything, thank you though love." He cuts you off. "I just, jus' want to talk to you. You calm me down."

"Talk about what?" You ask.

"Anything." He shrugs. "You just, calm me down." He says, making you smile from his simple yet impactful words. "You're like a walking vape."

"Oh shut up!" You smack him playfully, "You ruined a good moment!" Chuckling at his comment. But your chuckle brought a smile to his face, but this time it was a genuine smile.

Not out of nervousness or fear, but a real smile. Your laugh was able to brighten him up within a split second. And that's all he needed. Because truthfully, he didn't care too much of what your family thought of him. Of course he wanted them to like him, but he's able to accept other's opinions. All he really cared for was that you loved him, and he knew you did.

Oscar Piastri | 81

"Should I wear my midnight blue tie or navy blue tie?" Oscar asks, holding both up for you to look at. He was sweating bullets at the idea of meeting your entire family for the first time. Even though you reassured him endlessly that your family would love him, he wasn't certain on it.

"Either works, love" You say, trying your best to multi-task answering his stupid questions while getting ready yourself. You knew he wasn't trying to be annoying. It was cute to you that he was so nervous, despite him being on the verge of a breakdown.

"Okay what about white or black socks?" You told him white. "What length though? Above or below the ankle???" You told him above. "Okay, but should I pick the ones with a logo or no logo-"

"Oscar." You said firmly. He gulped, he knew he should have picked the no logo socks, what a stupid question! But that wasn't what you were going to say. "I promise you'll be perfectly fine. They don't care what you wear, how you sound, or even what you like."

"I know, I know, but I don't want to disappoint them." He says before remembering, "Oh shit! We need to leave soon! I need to pick up the bouquets I ordered for your family on the way there-"

You couldn't help but laugh at him. Every question he asked was just further proof that would be perfectly fine meeting them all. You had no doubts that your family would adore him: which they did.

Oliver Bearman | 87

The second Ollie stepped foot into your family's party, he was bombarded with questions. Bringing a tall, handsome, and talented young man into your family automatically made him lovable. They almost forgot about the fact that the only reason he was there was because of you.

He can't escape the grandmas and aunties fawning over how cute he is and all the uncles can't stop bothering him with questions about cars. Even your little cousins love him, asking him annoying questions that he handled really well.

Before you know it, he's carrying your baby cousin in one arm, holding a paper plate filled to the brim with food, wearing your uncle's hat that he insisted suited Ollie more, and being forced to tell everyone his facebook so they can stalk him.

The night lasted hours, but thankfully all your family got drunk or sleepy. Meaning you two were able to escape from the party. The second you're in the car, he sighs. It confused you, was he tired? Relieved to leave? Sad???

"Do you think they liked me?" He asks you. Which you instantly want to slam his head into the window.

"Yes Ollie, they liked you." You say with a smile, giving him a kiss on his cheek. "They loved you."

Paul Aron | 17

You've met Paul's family many times due to them being extremely present in his life. His sister always makes sure to check on him, taking you out for little gossip coffee dates. His brother is constantly calling Paul, making sure to tease him endlessly. And his parents are always there to encourage you two and take you on their family vacations.

So now that it's Paul's turn to be part of your family, he feels so nervous. He's ruffling up his hair for the 100th time, mumbling the lines he practiced to say. It's just a small get together for the holiday season, but Paul insisted that he should still be dressed nicely.

Once you arrive, you're on time... By 10 minutes. Despite you insisting that no one ever comes early to a family party, he doesn't care. He'd much rather be early and help set up than be late and risk ruining his first impression. Besides, if there's less people, then he can make sure he talks to every single family member.

And his plan worked really well. He's helping set up the plates and utensils while chatting with your aunt about how he loves her decor. Making her feel appreciated, finally someone saw the effort she put into picking the perfect width of a fork handle!

He helps your uncle prepare the back yard by opening all the lounge chairs. Which lets him make small talk with him, where they both find out that they love Star Wars. Now your uncle loves him because he can finally talk to someone who's as passionate as him.

Paul keeps doing this with every family member that arrives, being able to talk to them each one on one in order to create a bond. Because in group settings, Paul tends to get a tad bit nervous. He doesn't know when to jump in or what to say instantly.

By doing this, you both return home with every single family member loving him. And each of them remembering him from the little facts he shared with them. He was so respectful, engaged, and sweet the entire day. You couldn't help but just want to shower him in kisses for putting in so much effort and energy into your family.

Pepe Marti | 21

"Tall and tan and young and lovely," are lyrics dedicated to a girl but they perfectly fit Pepe. Because he instantly charms the entire family with his sweet smile and handsome looks. You're worried that he might get stolen from you by the end of the night.

He's just a future uncle in training. Making all the aunts laugh with quick jokes and then heading outside to sip on a beer while helping light a fire. He's even forced to help clean the grill and get a new gas tank to light it up.

You feel so much more mature now, no longer feeling part of the cousin crew but instead a future auntie in the making. He makes you feel so domestic, so warm and nurtured that the only thing you want to do is share the love of being cared for.

And you can't help but just fall for him deeper. And the same goes for him.

Despite being assigned random tasks to complete, he always makes sure to check up on you. Giving you a quick peck on the cheek as he walks back and forth from the kitchen to the yard. Making sure to shut down any rude comments from your aunts by turning it into a joke. Squeezing your hand three times under the dinner table to remind you that he loves you.

He couldn't have been more perfect.

[candycandy00]

I’ve Been a Naughty Girl! - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic

The mall Santa is hot as hell, and your friends dare you to sit on his lap and tell him you’ve been a very naughty girl! 

Smut. 18+. Sukuna as a mall Santa. Fem Reader. Very rough (but consensual) sex and oral sex. Cream pies. 

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

Part of CandyCandy’s Kinkmas 2024!

The mall is crowded, full of busy shoppers buying last minutes gifts. It’s only three days until Christmas after all. To be honest, you enjoy the hustle and bustle, the excited energy that seems to fill the mall along with the holiday music blasting through the speakers. 

Every store has garland covered in clear lights draped across the aisles, wreaths hang on every door, and in the very center of the mall stands an enormous Christmas tree. 

Your friends came along with you to pick up some items, and the four of you are having a blast. Especially when you walk by the giant tree. At the base of it, there’s a roped off section where kids are lined up to meet “Santa Clause”. 

One by one they sit on his lap, tell him what they want for Christmas, and smile for the commemorative photo. You have fond memories of doing that as a kid, but you don’t remember Santa ever looking like this. 

You and your friends all stop and stare, your mouths slightly open and your eyes wide. Because this Santa is hot as hell. He’s huge, tall and muscular enough to make the big red chair he’s sitting in seem tiny. The fake beard does little to cover the black tattoos on his face, and pink hair is sticking out of the back of his hat.

The kid on his lap is screaming, throwing a loud tantrum while the mother seemingly pays it no mind. The little boy is yelling about some kind of toy he wants that the store is sold out of, demanding that Santa make one for him and bring it Christmas morning. 

You watch as the buff Santa leans down and whispers something into the kid’s ear. The boy instantly falls silent, looking up at Santa with a terrified expression. The boy doesn’t move a muscle or make a sound until the photo is taken and his confused mother pulls him off Santa’s lap. 

“Wow,” one of your friends says beside you, “I wouldn’t mind being on his naughty list.”

You laugh and say, “Same. He can deck my halls any time!”

All of you giggle, then your friends start to walk away. You stay rooted to the spot, still watching the man. There’s an animalistic attraction drawing you to him, something primal and powerful. You just can’t look away from him. 

Your friends look from you to the Santa, probably noticing the look of lust in your eyes. 

“Just go talk to him,” one of them says. 

“And say what?” you ask. “I can’t just walk up to the mall Santa and tell him I wanna fuck him!”

Your friend grins. “Actually, you can. Get in line and go sit on his lap.”

“Oh come on, that’s for kids! They’d probably kick me out of the mall for that,” you say. 

Your other friends have stepped back over, wearing excited expressions. 

“Do it!” one of them cheers. 

“I dare you!” the other says. 

You look back toward the Santa, and his eyes suddenly shift up, meeting yours. A smile spreads over his face, but it’s not the jolly Santa smile you expected. This is a devious, predatory smile. All teeth. 

God, you’re already getting wet. 

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you announce. “But if I get in trouble you guys better be ready to bail me out!”

Your friends laugh and playfully push you toward the line. When you get there, the kids and parents give you looks ranging from confused to offended. It’s embarrassing to be standing there, but it’s the only idea you have for talking to this very sexy Santa. 

The wait is torture. With every child that takes their turn, you get closer, and you grow more nervous. What if he thinks you’re being ridiculous? What if you just imagined the attraction in his gaze when he smiled at you? 

Oh well, it’s too late to back out now. The child in front of you in line is smiling for the photo, and you’re next. 

When it’s your turn, the “elf” ushers you forward, seeming completely disinterested in an adult wanting to meet Santa. Maybe others have done this today. You wouldn’t be surprised. 

You gather your courage and walk over to Santa. You’ve been mentally rehearsing what you’re going to say, how you’re going to get him all riled up. You’re hoping to leave with his number. 

He pats his lap when you’re standing right in front of him, and you giggle nervously as you sit on one of his muscular thighs. As soon as you do, he reaches down and pulls both your legs up, so that you’re fully sitting across his lap. His hand is resting on your thighs, just above your knees. 

You’re so glad you wore a short skirt today. 

The “elf” suddenly looks concerned, their eyes darting about to see if anyone else is noticing this inappropriate scene. They’re probably wondering if they should say something. In that case, you should probably act fast. 

“Santa, I’ve been a very naughty girl this year,” you tell him in your sweetest voice. 

His grip on your thigh tightens slightly. “I happen to like naughty girls,” he replies, his voice deep and smooth. “So what do you want for Christmas?”

You giggle again, shifting just a little, enough for him to feel your ass moving in his lap. Then you lean in close to his ear and say, “I want a big, tall guy with tattoos to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

You expected his eyes to widen in surprise, perhaps a shocked expression. But no, this Santa simply grins at you. “If that’s what you want, I can give you your present right now.”

Huh? Right now?!

He slides you off his lap and stands up, taking you by the hand and leading you away from the chair. The elf looks horrified. 

“Hey, your break’s not for another hour!”

Some of the kids begin whining, crying out, “Where are you going, Santa?”

A parent huffs an incredulous, “We’ve been waiting in line for thirty minutes!”

Santa has nearly pulled you to the edge of the roped off area before he stops and turns back to look at them all. He gives them a look. Just a single glance, and it’s enough to silence them all. Then he lifts the rope, pulls you under it with him, and heads to the south end of the mall. 

You let yourself be pulled. With every step, your heart beats faster. Where is he even taking you?

He makes a turn down a hallway, toward the restrooms. Is he going to fuck you in a stall? But no, he walks right past them and through a door clearly marked as “Employees Only”. 

Your excitement builds even more. Now you really do feel naughty, stepping into a section of the mall you’re not supposed to be in. As a kid you once snuck into an area like this in another mall, and even though nothing happened, you still felt like such a rebel. That same feeling is creeping back into your mind. Because this time, something will definitely happen. 

He leads you past several doors, probably break rooms and offices, before opening one and pulling you inside. It’s pitch dark until he flips on the light switch, revealing an empty office. There’s a couple of desks but no computers on them or even chairs to sit on. You suppose that’s why no one is using it. 

The lock on the door clicks, and your heart nearly stops. You turn to face him, but just as you do, he suddenly rushes forward, pushing you against the nearest wall in the cramped little room and covering your mouth with his. You don’t even remember when he pulled the fake beard off. 

Apparently he’s not interested in chatting or even exchanging names. “Santa” it is then. 

You raise your arms when he pauses to pull your sweater up and over your head, then unhook your bra yourself just to speed things up. You’re as hungry for him as he seems to be for you. 

He yanks down your skirt, leaving you in cute candy cane striped panties and your red ankle boots. Before stripping you any further, he practically tears off the black leather belt around his waist and jerks open his red Santa coat. 

Oh. Oh god. Those tattoos line his well sculpted torso, absolutely mesmerizing you. Your mouth goes dry, your pussy gets wetter, and you can’t resist putting your hands on his chest, tracing the black inky lines with your fingers. 

He allows you a few seconds to admire his body, then puts one firm hand on your bare shoulder. “Kneel,” he says in an authoritative tone that sends a shiver down your spine. 

You’re happy to comply, dropping to your knees in front of him as he unbuttons his pants. You watch with breathless excitement as he lowers his pants slightly and pulls out the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. In thickness and in length, no other cock can even compare. Fuck, he’s going to wreck you. 

Leaning forward, you place one hand on the meaty organ. Your fingers can’t even reach all the way around it, but you begin stroking it anyway before giving it a few kitten licks just to tease him. When you look up, you realize he’s not a man to be teased. 

Not the least bit amused, he says, “Open your mouth, naughty girl.”

You open as widely as you can, and he shoves into your mouth, instantly hitting the back of your throat. You gag, but keep yourself under control. He grips your hair with one hand and begins pumping in and out, your lips automatically tightening around him while your tongue fights to keep moving along his length. Your throat’s going to be raw tomorrow, but right now you don’t care.  

He keeps moving, keeps shoving himself down your throat while holding your head steady. You’ve never had your mouth fucked so aggressively before, but it’s got you so turned on, your hand slips down the front of your panties. 

You hear him laugh above you as his grip on your hair tightens. “You really are a naughty girl, huh?”

His cock is throbbing in your mouth, his pulse quickening as your throat constricts around his tip. You think he’s close, but it’s another five minutes before he pulls almost completely out and then shoots his entire hot sticky load onto your tongue. His cum floods your mouth, so much that you’re struggling to swallow it all fast enough to take a breath. 

When you finally get it all down, you pant for a few minutes. He helps you to your feet, which is likely the closest you’re going to get to gentlemanly behavior. 

Which is fine. There’s plenty of sweet guys you can call if you wanna be fucked like a delicate princess. Today, you want to be ruined. 

His hands are on your hips before you have time to be shocked that he’s hard again already. With one jerk, your panties are in shreds. Then he’s lifting you up by your waist and shoving you against the wall, his own body pinning you there, your feet dangling above the floor. 

He wastes no time with talking or asking if you’re ready. He knows you’re drenched and practically in tears, wanting him inside you as soon as possible. So he buries himself completely in your warm, tight pussy, going all the way in, pressing into your cervix. 

For a moment, you see stars. You open your mouth but no sound comes out. But then he begins thrusting, and you find your voice. 

“F-fuck…! S’too big!”

He grins down at you. “Oh? I thought a naughty girl like you could take me.”

Not wanting to be outdone, you wrap your legs around him and clench as tightly as you can, your hands moving up to hold onto his shoulders. “I can take you, Santa,” you say, though your voice is shaky. 

You’ve never felt so full in your life. It’s like he’s hollowing you out. But your arousal is dripping out around him and you can feel your pulse in your clit. His hard body rubs across it with every thrust, leaving you moaning and babbling. 

“So good… gonna cum… please let me cum, Santa!”

“Not yet,” he says, fucking into you even harder. You whine and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your teary face into his wide shoulder. Your whole body is trembling. 

He suddenly shoves in so deep, you think he’s in your rib cage. “I’ve got an extra special present for this naughty little pussy,” he says. “So take it!”

With that, thick ropes of cum shoot inside you, even more than he shot in your mouth. And as he’s filling you up, he says, “Now you can cum.”

You release all the tension in your body, stop fighting the raging orgasm that’s been beating on your door, begging to be let loose. You cum so hard you cry, clinging to his neck while you quiver in his arms and his cum continues spilling into you. 

Once it’s over, your spent legs slide from his body and he pulls out, letting your feet touch the floor again. Cum pours out of your pussy, dripping down your thighs while you pant and lean against the wall. 

After a few minutes, you stumble over to an empty desk and place one hand on it to keep yourself steady. 

“Uh oh, looks like you can still walk,” you hear Santa say. With wide eyes you look back at him. He’s grinning that same predatory grin. “Guess I haven’t granted your wish yet.”

You can only let out an exhausted groan as he bends you over the desk and lifts one of your shaky legs up, plunging his cock back into your sticky, cum filled cunt. 

Maybe you bit off a little more than you can chew with this Santa. But it’s a Christmas you’ll never forget. 

As his hand reaches down and around to rub your aching clit, you cry out in pleasure, your fingernails scratching the chipped paint on the desk. And you realize he’s just getting started. 

He laughs when you start babbling again, fucking you even harder as he says, “Looks like you’re getting what you want for Christmas, naughty girl!”

Tag List:

@coldluminarykoala @atomicweaselpaperapricot @chocoyanchan @calculust-prime 

[wonderjanga]

Super Grandpa

When Superman first made his debut, people were in awe of him. Children and adults alike held awe and wonder for him. As for elderly, they also loved him. As for why? Because he was like the second coming of Captain Marvel. A super who was the hero during the fourties’ to sixties’. Naturally, other people besides the elderly noticed this too. This led to a theory popping up that Superman was Captain Marvel’s son or grandson. Most people were leaning to grandson though because if he was the Captain’s kid, he’d be at least fifty years old now. Not the twenty something year old guy they know. But yeah, people think they’re related, here’s a couple reasons why.

Supes: *being interviewed*

Lois Lane: *holding a mic up for Clark to speak into* “Superman, who would you say inspired you to become a hero?”

Supes: “Uh- I’d say…” *sounds and looks a little embarrassed* “Captain Marvel? I mean, look at me.” *gestures to himself* “I just have more blue than him. Plus, I mean he was my hero as a kid. I had the power to be like him so I decided to put it to use.”

A lot of people thought that sounded like a little kid talking about their parent being their hero, even though Clark was in all actuality, just talking about Marvel being his hero in general.

or

Wondy and Supes: *meeting each other for the first time*

Wondy: *nostalgic smile* “You know, you remind me of my brother.”

Supes: “Brother?”

Wondy: “He went by Captain Marvel?”

Supes: “Wait, seriously?” *bros ecstatic on the inside*

Wondy: “Yes. You look similar. Your suits are similar. Your ideals are similar. I’m sure you two would’ve gotten along wonderfully.” *sounds sad towards the end*

Supes: “I hope so.”

(This is the Wonder Woman that first came to America during WW2)

or

Supes: “Well, I myself have never met Captain Marvel, but my parents actually met him.”

Flash: “Wait, really? Were are your parents also superheroes?”

Supes: “No, they were normal people. He met them when they were teenagers apparently.”

Flash is over here thinking “Okay, so he might not be his dad, but he could be his uncle or cousin.” As for how the Kents knew Billy, he met them when he stopped them from getting into a car crash.

Then the time bubble popped, and Captain Marvel appeared once again. You couldn’t even ask Clark how he got the man to sit down with him at a diner and eat pie with him.

Marvel: “So you’re a hero too?”

Supes: “Yup. I’m part of the Justice League.” *nervously eating his pie*

Marvel: “What’s that? Are they like the JSA?”

Supes: Yes, sir, some of the members from the team actually joined us after they disbanded.

Marvel: “Sir…? Please don’t call me that. Also, they disbanded?”

Supes: “Yeah, during the 80s I think they disbanded.”

Marvel: “Dang… well at least that’s good.”

Supes: “Why would that be good?”

Marvel: “Oh well, the them disbanding part isn’t good, but the fact that you and others stepped up to create another superhero team that could spread hope throughout the states is incredible.” *smiles*

Supes: *absolutely fangirling inside* “You think so?”

Marvel: “Oh, absolutely.”

or

Marvel and Supes: *teamed up to fight some alien*

After the fight…

Marvel: “Gosh! You were just amazing! I’d love to fight with you again.” *smiles and ruffles his hair, cause he’s so darn tall*

Supes: “You could do that if you join the league, you know?” *internally screaming because his idol just ruffled his hair*

Marvel: “I really should. I’d thought about joining the JSA before the whole… y’know, suspendium.”

Supes: *trying to sound nonchalant* “We’d love to have you.”

People thought Marvel looked like a proud dad while Supes looked so happy to be praised.

So yes, the Marvel and Superman being family theories are strong.

Meanwhile, during all of this, Billy just thinks this guy is a cool dude.

[nlvrr]

GOAL OF THE HEART | jude bellingham

summary: a joke about being terrible at football leads to a flirty one-on-one session with jude, where teasing turns into something more.

warnings: none!

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

it started out as a joke. during a group hangout, you’d admitted—half embarrassed, half amused—that football and you simply didn’t mix. you told them that you might actually be the worst player alive, no exaggeration needed.

jude, who’d been sipping on a drink nearby, nearly choked when he heard you. his eyes immediately lit up with playful disbelief, that signature grin spreading across his face like he’d just found the world’s biggest challenge.

“the worst player alive?” he repeated, leaning closer as if he needed to double-check. “nah. you can’t be serious.”

“dead serious,” you replied with a shrug, though you felt your cheeks heating under his gaze. “i’m a lost cause. don’t even try.”

he leaned back, crossing his arms with an air of smug confidence. “oh, we’re not letting that slide. i could coach you in, like, an hour. easy.”

“that sounds like a waste of your time,” you said with a laugh, but jude’s grin only widened.

“you scared?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing in mock challenge.

and that was it. somehow, you ended up agreeing to a one-on-one training session, and now, here you were at the park, standing awkwardly on the grass while jude twirled a football like it was part of his hand. the late-afternoon sun hung low in the sky, bathing everything in golden light.

he set the ball down in front of you, already smirking. “all right, superstar. let’s see what i’m working with.”

you shot him a look before kicking the ball… straight into your own shin. it bounced pitifully off to the side, and you winced. jude, meanwhile, doubled over with laughter.

“oh my god,” he gasped, hands on his knees. “okay, that was worse than i thought it’d be.”

“shut up,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

“no, seriously,” he said between chuckles, walking over to grab the ball. “you’ve got, like, negative ball control. i thought you were joking!”

“do you want me to leave?”

he bit back another laugh, stepping closer until he was face-to-face with you. “you’re not getting out of this that easy.” his grin softened into something more encouraging. “but don’t worry, i’ve got you. you’re in good hands.”

“debatable,” you muttered, earning another laugh.

jude spent the next twenty minutes attempting to teach you the basics—emphasis on “attempting.” he showed you how to dribble with the inside of your foot, how to balance, how to aim. but every time you tried, you either tripped, kicked the ball in a completely wrong direction, or sent it rolling barely two feet in front of you.

“this is hopeless,” you groaned, throwing up your hands after yet another failed attempt.

“nah,” jude said, walking back over with that same annoyingly cocky grin. “you’re just… how do i say this nicely? really bad.”

you smacked his arm lightly, glaring at him even though his laughter was contagious.

“okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “maybe we need a new approach.”

before you could ask what he meant, jude stepped behind you. his chest brushed against your back as he rested his hands on your arms, guiding them downward.

“relax,” he said, his voice dropping a little lower, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. “you’re way too tense. just focus on the ball.”

it was impossible to focus when his breath was warm against your ear and his hands were moving so gently yet firmly.

“you sure this is about football?” you shot back, glancing at him over your shoulder.

his lips curved into a smirk, and he leaned in just slightly closer. “why? is something distracting you?”

“you’re so annoying,” you muttered, cheeks flushing.

he only chuckled, his hands still resting lightly on yours. “keep telling yourself that.”

after what felt like a century, you finally managed to kick the ball into the makeshift goal. it wasn’t exactly a highlight-worthy shot—it rolled awkwardly into the bottom corner—but it counted. you turned to jude, expecting a teasing remark, only to find him lying flat on the ground, arms stretched out like he’d been dramatically defeated.

“you win!” he groaned, clutching his chest like he was in pain. “the student has surpassed the master.”

“oh my god, get up!” you laughed, walking over to nudge his side with your foot.

“i mean it,” he said, grinning up at you. “i’ve been absolutely humbled. what a performance.”

you rolled your eyes and plopped down on the grass beside him, both of you flushed and out of breath.

“admit it,” jude said after a moment, turning his head to look at you. “you had fun.”

you tilted your head toward him, raising a brow. “fun? with you? never.”

he grinned, shifting so he was leaning up on one elbow, his face suddenly a lot closer to yours. “nah, you love it. you love me, actually. go ahead, say it.”

“keep dreaming, bellingham,” you shot back, but the way his gaze dropped—just briefly—to your lips made your heart skip.

“for real, though,” he murmured, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face, his hand lingering for just a beat too long. “you did good today.”

you bit back a shy smile, pretending to brush it off. “well, what do i get for being your star player?”

he tilted his head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “how about dinner? you earned it.”

your heart raced, and before you could argue, he added with a smirk, “plus, someone’s gotta keep the coach company.”

rolling your eyes, you laughed. “you’re unbelievable.”

but you didn’t say no.

[thezombieprostitute]

Dr. Studmuffin

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: new years kiss with a stranger

Warnings: Drugs used in a medical setting, Emergency room setting, Ex-boyfriend angst, Physical injuries. Please let me know if I missed any.

You're in tears, and not just from the pain. This was supposed to be your comeback. Your personal revolution. New Year's was a time for renewal and remaking yourself. You were going to prove to everyone, especially Bryce, that you didn't need him. That you could stand proud on your own two feet.

You'd splurged on the clothes, finding ones that not only fit you like a second skin, but that made all your best features pop. You got your hair done by a professional, even adding some highlights that would match the dress and your makeup choices. Every time you looked in the mirror you knew you were killing it! This was going to be your night. Your year!

And then you tripped on your too-high heels and likely broke your ankle.

It took everyone at the party several minutes to stop laughing. You're certain Bryce is still laughing about it. No one wanted to give you a lift to the emergency room so you had to call yourself an ambulance. Thankfully the paramedics were nice enough. Especially after the pain meds kicked in and you went from uncontrollably sad to uncontrollably sad and loopy.

You hated being loopy. You just couldn't stop talking and you inevitably said too much. Doesn't matter you primarily apologized for things that weren't your fault and made it rain compliments, you still talked nonstop and would eventually be called annoying. Thankfully the redheaded nurse taking care of you didn't seem to mind every time you repeated how pretty you thought she was. She actually was pretty good at assuaging the worst of your fears.

And then he showed up.

The first time you laid eyes on the ER doctor you blurted out, "well hello, Dr. Studmuffin!" You slapped your hands over your mouth, face burning with embarrassment. Apparently he felt it too with how pink his cheeks got.

"I see Natasha wasn't exaggerating," he chuckles as he rubs on some hand sanitizer.

"I am so sorry, doctor! I know that was very disrespectful. I mean, it's not disrespectful to call you handsome, because you really are. But it's wrong time, wrong place, right? Plus, you're a doctor! You've gotta be super smart for that! So reducing you to Dr. Studmuffin just feels so inadequate. I'm---"

He raises a hand to stop you from talking. His cheeks are still blushing but his smile is, thankfully, gentle instead of condescending or egotistical. He puts on some gloves and walks to your heavily bruised ankle. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I tripped on my shoes," you explain. Tears start to form as the embarrassing memory comes back. "I tripped in front of everyone and they just laughed and didn't try to help me and I was just trying to be better! Trying to improve myself and stand on my own without my ex and then I tripped and fell, right in front of him!"

The doctor grabs some of the tissues from the table nearby and gently wipes the tears from your face.

"The notes from the paramedics say that you had to call them yourself? No one tried to help?"

You nod, a fresh flow of tears starting. "It was supposed to be my night to remake myself. My night to be...to be not me. To be bold, daring, and kiss a stranger at midnight. But instead, here I am with...Can you please tell me your name so I might stop calling you Dr. Studmuffin?"

"I'm Dr. Rogers, but you can call me Steve."

"Thank you, Steve."

"I'm gonna examine your ankle now. I need you to tell me if, when something hurts, okay?" You nod your understanding.

After several squeaks and hisses in pain with explanations as to the type of pain he tells you it's likely a minor fracture but he's going to have to get some x-rays to confirm that.

You sigh, "I was supposed to be drinking champagne and, instead, I'll greet the new year with a dose of radiation." The tears start forming again. "Maybe they were right about how much of a loser I am."

Steve's jaw clenches and he gently lifts your chin, wiping away the tears with another tissue. "Don't do that. Don't let the bullies win. If you do that, they just get worse." He sees the confusion on your face and continues, "I don't like bullies. I got bullied pretty much my whole life."

"Who'd bully a Studmuffin like you?" you blurt.

He chuckles. "I wasn't always built like this. Used to be super scrawny."

"Aww! I bet you were so cute!"

That alone would make his cheeks burn but then Natasha walks in, "Dr. Studmuffin, you're needed in room 32." He gives her a glare but she just smiles back. He sighs, knowing he's never going to hear the end of it.

"Okay, she needs some x-rays and can you make sure Mace is her Radiologist? He'll probably have the most patience for her loopy state."

"Oh, yes, please let me have someone patient!" you exclaim. "I cannot be trusted not to annoy someone right now!"

Natasha smiles at you, "don't worry. I'll make sure you're in good hands."

After Steve catches a few moments to breathe, he looks around to see if you're back from getting your ankle x-ray. He's disappointed to see you're not back yet.

"Don't worry, Dr. Studmuffin," Nat teases. "She'll be back soon enough."

Steve's face goes pink. "I just wanted to do a follow up is all."

"You know you can't lie to me," she smiles. "She's someone who was trying to pull herself together, indicating personal strength. She cooed when you told her you were a scrawny kid, indicating a lack of shallowness on her part. And, I know you saw her chart. She's a chemist, so she's likely highly intelligent. She's exactly your kind of girl."

"She doesn't actually find me attractive," Steve counters. "It's just a bit of Nightingale Syndrome."

Nat laughs uncontrollably for a minute. "Steve, that's when the medical caretaker has a thing for the patient. Not the other way around."

Steve's face goes completely red as he realizes his slip up.

"I'll make sure you're on break around midnight so you can give the lovely lady that kiss with a stranger she was looking for," Nat winks before heading off to another patient.

Your back in your room, wallowing in misery as you look at the time. So close to midnight. You know your "friends" are having a blast. Likely still laughing about you. And here you are, alone and miserable.

Dr. Studmuffin, Steve, you internally correct yourself, comes in.

As he rubs his hands with sanitizer he says, "good news. While it is a partial fracture in the bone, your tendons and ligaments are unharmed. That'll make the healing process a lot easier on you." You nod glumly and he checks his watch. "I'm actually going on break here in a little bit, just in time for midnight. I...I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like to greet the New Year with me?"

Your eyes widen in shock. "You...you want me...you want to kiss me for New Year's?"

"Only if you'd like that," he's quick to assure. "Stick it to those bullies, get a kiss with a stranger, and all that?"

"Yes, please!"

He checks his watch again, "and with that, I'm on my break." He turns on the TV. It's muted but you can still see the countdown.

When the clock hits zero, he leans in for a kiss. Still loopy from the pain meds you wrap your arms around his head and pull him in for a deep kiss, catching him off guard, but making him smile.

Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad year for either of you.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[cosmicanakin]

𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐒 SKIES & 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 TIES

000. PROLOGUE ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ִ ݁ ♡ .

✸ 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟓; the first time you and jensen met.

PAIRING. cowboy!jensen x female reader ꒱

SYNOPSIS. in a stormy december of '95, your world shifts when jensen arrives at your family's ranch. what starts with an awkward meeting becomes something unexpectedly sweet.

WARNING(S). awkward first meeting | subtle flirting | hand-holding | jealousy | mentions of small town gossip | unrequited feelings | peer pressuring parents (?) | ranch work | storm preparation | self-consciousness | social anxiety.

kari yaps. hiii there, i feel SO soso happy n giddy inside, seeing all of u as excited as i am for this new series !!!! i'll try my best to keep up w it, esp this upcoming week for xmas <3 & if it isnt finished by then, hopefully by new years it is. HOWEVER, if it isnt done once the new year rolls in, someone yell @ me, i give u full permission !!!!! im crossing my fingers, though. n e ways :) love yall smmm <3

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ୨ৎ 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘.

DECEMBER brought the kind of cold that made texas feel foreign. you weren't expecting company that morning, which explained your current state: sleep shorts, an old long sleeve baby tee that had seen better days, and crew socks that reached above your ankles. your hair was a mess, tangled from sleep, but you didn't care—until your dad's voice boomed through the house.

"honey, alan's boy is here to help with the storm prep!"

you froze, halfway through pouring your coffee. through the kitchen window, you caught sight of a red chevy pickup truck pulling up, and your stomach dropped. everyone knew alan ackles' son—jensen was practically dallas royalty when it came to ranch families.

"coming!" you called back, but it was too late. the screen door creaked open, and there he stood: tall, broad-shouldered, in worn jeans and boots, his green eyes catching yours immediately.

"jensen, this is my daughter," your dad said, clapping him on the shoulder. "sweetheart, this is jensen."

you wanted to die right there, especially when his lips curved into a slight smirk. "nice to meet you," he drawled, his voice deep and warm. "nice pajamas."

your face heats up in embarrassment. "i wasn't exactly expecting visitors at seven in the morning."

"storm's not gonna wait for proper attire, darlin'," your dad chuckled. "why don't you go get dressed? you're helping us today."

"what? dad, no—"

"actually," your mom chirped, appearing from nowhere like she always did when there was potential for embarrassment, "if you help today, we can hit the mall this afternoon."

you narrowed your eyes. "promise?"

"cross my heart."

yeah, you're never going to the mall.

twenty minutes later, properly dressed in jeans and boots, you found yourself trailing behind jensen and your dad toward the stables. the horses needed tending first—they were always priority during storms.

"beauty's been real fussy lately," your dad was saying. "might need extra attention."

"i can handle the horses," you offered quickly. anything to avoid more awkward interaction with jensen.

your dad nodded. "good idea. jensen and i'll check the fencing. don't forget to clean their areas too."

you watched them head off, relief flooding through you until beauty, your black mare, nudged your shoulder. "i know, girl," you muttered. "i'm a mess."

the next hour passed peacefully enough. most of the horses were being difficult—storm weather always made them antsy—but beauty kept them in line with warning neighs whenever they got too rowdy. you were halfway through brushing down the last horse when boots scuffed against the stable floor behind you.

"need any help?"

you jumped, spinning around to find jensen leaning against one of the stalls. "jesus, wear a bell or something."

he laughed, pushing off the frame and walking over. "your dad said to come check on you. more workers showed up to help with the heavy lifting."

"'m fine," you said quickly, turning back to the horse. "almost done."

"you sure? because that one looks about ready to bite."

as if on cue, the horse snapped its teeth, and you jerked back. jensen stepped forward, his chest brushing your back as he reached for the brush. "here," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "let me."

you stepped aside, watching as he effortlessly calmed the horse with a few gentle strokes. "show off."

"nah," he grinned. "just been doing this since i could walk. your ranch is different though. bigger than ours."

"yeah?" you leaned against the stable wall. "how so?"

and just like that, the awkwardness melted away. jensen told you about his family's ranch, about learning to ride before he could properly run, about the differences in how each ranch operated. by the time your dad called everyone in for dinner, you'd almost forgotten about your embarrassing first meeting.

your mom, ever the hostess, had prepared enough food to feed an army. neighbors started arriving, filling your house with chatter and laughter. you showered and changed, choosing a soft sweater and clean jeans, your hair finally tamed.

"movie time!" someone called after dinner, and suddenly the living room was full of kids your age, all piling onto couches to watch christmas reruns.

you tucked yourself into the corner of the couch, trying to take up as little space as possible. but then jensen sat next to you, his thigh pressing against yours despite the space on his other side. you tried to scoot away, give him room, but he just moved closer.

"cold?" he whispered, and before you could answer, his hand found yours.

your palm went instantly clammy. across the room, you caught daisy oliver's glare—everyone knew she had a thing for jensen, had been trying to catch his eye for months. you tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened.

"relax," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "this okay?"

you nodded, unable to form words, and spent the rest of the night hyper-aware of every small movement of his hand against yours.

the next morning, you hid in your room, avoiding the inevitable goodbye when his dad came to pick him up. you'd heard the rumors about him and daisy so holding his hand felt like crossing a line you hadn't meant to cross.

you didn't know then that jensen had never looked twice at her. didn't know that he had spend the whole ride home telling his dad about the girl in pajamas who'd caught his eye. didn't know that this was just the beginning.

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 taglist. @deanswidow @a1ecmcdowell @beausling @titsout4jackles @frosttbitessam @aileenunfiltered @deansbite @jasvtsc @fallbhind @ostaramoon @lacydollette @ultravi0lence14 @rubyvhs ◟ ☆ ݁ ⋆ 🏇 ˚⊹ ˖ ﾟ✶ ݁. comment OR send an ask to be added / removed !!!!!

𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍 © 2024. ✶ please DO NOT copy or plagiarize my works.

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ SYLUS | dream come true (christmas special)

── ◜sylus x fem!reader — mini one shot 1.5k words ◜sylus decides to prepare a surprise for her as a christmas present author's note | christmas specials from the rest of the LI on my profile

Christmas wasn't her favorite holiday, but there was something different this year: Sylus was by her side. She knew he wasn't a big fan of the holiday either, she'd noticed, but the idea of doing something together excited her.

"Where are we going?" She asked, letting out a breath. A cloud of smoke came out of his lips, making her laugh. Even as an adult, that still made her laugh. Sylus had been leading her to 'a surprise' over ten minutes ago, but she just didn't see any surprises and she was freezing to death.

"We're almost there." Sylus turned to look at her and a small smile formed on his lips, barely perceptible.

She sighed in frustration and continued walking in silence for a few more minutes. Her gaze was fixed on her shoes and the way they sank into the snow with each step. Sylus had shown up at her house two hours ago, forcing her to get dressed saying he had a surprise for her. She wondered how he knew she had no plans specifically for that day, had Mephisto told him something? Had he spied on her schedule?

"We arrived." Sylus' voice brought her out of her bubble. She looked up excitedly, but her expression changed completely when she saw what was in front of her.

"What is this?" she asked confused, she hadn't even noticed when she had stopped walking, but Sylus had stopped in front of her.

"It's for us." She felt him take her hand and force her to walk with him, she followed him trying not to fall but she was still too shocked to walk normally.

A large ice rink was in front of her. She recognized it perfectly, it was the typical ice rink that the mall put up every year during Christmas. But it was empty.

"Sylus, I told you I can't skate," she muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but she still didn't sound shocked, she had told him that two weeks ago. She had mentioned to him that she had always wanted to do Christmas things like in the movies, like skating, something she didn't even know how to do. She had never tried to learn because she was embarrassed by the looks of the people around her.

"I know. I rented the whole ice rink for us, so you can learn." She blinked in confusion but forced herself to keep quiet. He'd rented the whole damn ice rink… for her.

She remained silent as Sylus helped her into the small space where there were benches to put on her skates. She also remained silent when she put on the skates Sylus had brought for her, she had really thought of absolutely everything.

"Sylus… I'm going to fall." She sighed in frustration as she looked at the ice rink in front of her. It was huge and completely empty, which was comforting.

"You'll be okay, I'll hold you. Come here." She stood up and walked very carefully to the edge of the ice rink. She stood there for a few seconds, there was some snow because there was no roof, but nothing that would bother her.

She blinked as she felt Sylus' arms wrap around her hips. Her body tensed and suddenly she no longer felt nervous about the ice rink… It was Sylus' body pressed against hers and his arms holding her close that made her nervous.

She entered the ice rink slowly. She kept her feet steady because she didn't dare let Sylus go, at least not at that moment. First she needed to find balance.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, letting Sylus lead her. He was actually the one doing all the work, pushing them both across the ice rink. She kept her feet completely firm, she was still too nervous and afraid that the second she separated from Sylus she would end up with her face against the ice.

"You said your dream was to ice skate during Christmas," he replied quietly, his lips too close to her ear. She remembered it, they had watched one of her favorite Christmas movies together. She was surprised that Sylus remembered. "You also said you were embarrassed to be seen."

"And that's why you paid for an entire ice rink?" She tried to look over her shoulder and when she turned her face she noticed how close Sylus was to her. She quickly looked back, feeling her cheeks warm. If she hadn't noticed, she could have accidentally brushed their lips.

Sylus smiled when he noticed the way her face had turned quickly. "Does it bother you?"

"I'm surprised." She shrugged. She knew that anyone else wouldn't have done the same thing, but Sylus wasn't just anyone.

It was new for her, she appreciated every detail that Sylus had with her, but no one had done the same before. She didn't know how to accept anything that came from him without feeling ashamed.

"I'm going to let you go now." She blinked repeatedly as Sylus' voice brought her out of her thoughts. She looked over her shoulder in fear but Sylus was no longer beside her and was not pressing his body against hers.

He pushed her gently, letting her skates slide across the ice. She gasped in a mix of surprise and terror of end up with her face against ground. It took her a couple of seconds to regain the balance and he prepared to catch her if she fell, but it wasn't necessary.

She looked at Sylus with excitement and slowly slid down the ice until she reached him again. He gently grabbed her wrists to hold her and smiled due to the excitement and happiness on her face. When the girl looked up again she met Sylus' piercing eyes, her smile fading slightly due to the nerves caused by the way he looked at her.

"Thank you… for this."

"You did it yourself." He shook his head not wanting to take credit for something so simple.

"I'm not talking about that." She rolled her eyes. She knew Sylus knew she was referring to the whole ice rink surprise.

She looked up at the sky, feeling a snowflake falling on her face, a sign that it was going to start snowing. He had fulfilled her Christmas dream.

[paigesbasketball]

Shadow the Hedgehog Headcannons

Shadow the hedgehog x reader Warnings: None Notes: just shadow if he were being a tease to his significant other (a little sum cause the movie was dropped)

Sarcastic Remarks: Shadow loves to make sarcastic comments, often poking fun at your habits or quirks. He'll tell you things like, "Guess I’ll have to show you how it's done, again," whenever you try to do something he thinks you can’t handle.

Mocking Your Speed: Since he’s known for being incredibly fast, Shadow might tease you about not being able to keep up. "Hurry up, unless you're planning on slowing me down," he’ll smirk, knowing full well you’ll catch up in your own way.

Feigning Ignorance: Shadow loves pretending he doesn’t know something when he clearly does, just to get a rise out of you. If you ask him for help with something, he might say, “I’m not your tutor,” then end up showing you anyway.

The ‘Unexpected Compliment’: He’ll drop a compliment in the most unexpected way, making it seem like he’s trying to be rude at first. "You actually look halfway decent today. Guess it’s the lighting," he'll say with a smirk, knowing you’ll blush or respond defensively.

Teasing Physical Touch: He may deliberately brush up against you or playfully nudge you when you're not expecting it. Sometimes, it’s just to mess with you, and other times, it’s to see how you'll react to the sudden closeness.

Over-the-Top Drama: Shadow might act overly dramatic when you do something he finds amusing. "Oh, sure, that’s how you’re going to solve it? Classic,” he’ll say with exaggerated disbelief, even if it’s a simple solution. It’s all in good fun to see your reaction.

Competitive Tease: In friendly competitions or games, Shadow will never let you forget who’s winning. “Not bad, but I am the ultimate,” he’ll taunt, grinning whenever you get even a tiny bit close to beating him.

Mocking Your ‘Flustered’ Moments: If you get flustered or embarrassed, Shadow loves to notice and point it out with a sly grin. “Did I say something that made you blush? How cute,” he’ll tease, not letting you live it down for a while.

"I’m Not Interested" (But He Totally Is): Shadow will act uninterested when you flirt or compliment him, saying things like, “Stop wasting your time,” but his small smirk or subtle eye contact will tell you otherwise, making you wonder if he’s just playing hard to get.

Unbothered Smirks: Whenever you try to challenge him or show off, he’ll give you that signature smirk and say, “Is that all you’ve got?” His teasing tone makes it sound like a challenge, even if he knows he’s got it all under control.

Tease and Walk Away: Shadow is notorious for saying something teasing and then walking away before you can respond. He loves leaving you with no time to react, knowing you’ll be caught up thinking about what he said.

Messing with Your Routine: If he sees you’re in the middle of something important, Shadow might deliberately distract you with a harmless comment or playful taunt, just to see how easily you can lose focus.

"You Could Use Some Help": If you’re struggling with something, Shadow will occasionally offer his help in a teasing way. “You could use a lot of help,” he’ll say, just to make you roll your eyes before he steps in to assist.

Becoming More Touchy: After spending more time together and getting to know you, Shadow begins to show more affection in a subtle, touchy way. He may rest a hand on your shoulder or casually wrap an arm around your waist when you're close. It's his way of expressing how much he's grown to care for you, but in typical Shadow fashion, he’s still a little reserved about it. These moments are rare, but they show his soft side emerging as he grows more comfortable with you.

So... i fear after watching the movie I have fallen a little for shadow, like i have been with the fandom for along time since i have played that games as a child but wheeeewwww movie shadow did sum to me or maybe it was the final push...

-Caty writes

[moralesluvr]

Hey!! Would you ever do like fluff with mom!billie (like some headcannons or something?)

aweee yes this is so sweet !!

fluff w mom!billie

billie is most definitely the ‘fun’ mama

she’s always taking your little ones to candy stores, parks— she always tries to catch a break to make time for you and your babies

she doesn’t like being away from the kids at all. she will be quick to cancel interviews or shoots if you or your babies really want some family time

family’s always #1 to her. always.

you and billie don’t having the same eating habits, as she’s vegan and you’re not— but you both agreed not to push anything on your children

they do eat pretty healthy though, fruits and veggies are a part of every meal they eat (she praises this)

billie doesn’t realize the importance of a bedtime. if your kids wanna go somewhere, she’ll just load everyone up in the car and go there

“babe. the kids are supposed to be asleep at 9:30, why did you take them on your taco bell run at 1– something in the morning?”

she’d just shrug with a laugh, “sage and celeste really wanted a baja blast, was i supposed to say no?”

but if it becomes a pressing issue, she’ll push the bedtime they’re supposed to have

mom!billie is ALWAYS singing.

singing the kids to sleep, on the way to school, in the kitchen— it’s constant

your son, sage, 100% learned guitar from finneas and billie loves to sing along while he plays

celeste, your daughter, has such a beautiful voice, but she’s just a little shy. so billie definitely gives her private music classes in your at-home studio to help with her comfort

everyone sings together. even if you can’t sing, everyone will be in the car jamming out and singing along to the song

when sage was born, billie was always slightly terrified of being a mother

he was your first child and she had pretty much no knowledge on children

but after reading literal manuals that maggie gave the two of you, she naturally became the best mother

she definitely wasn’t always perfect. she tries her best, but there’s moments where she may lash out on your kids or get annoyed when she’s really stressed

mom!billie is 100% an apologizer.

billie thinks that just because they’re kids doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve apologizes. if she fucked up, she’s gonna take ownership for it

“mama’s sorry, kiddo. whenever i get like that, just tell me, okay? the way i said what i said wasn’t okay. you do need to listen to me, but i need to listen to you, too. i love you, okay?”

soooo very big on saying ‘i love you’

she wants your kids to know that they’re her entire world, and saying i love you regularly is definitely a part of that

dropping them off at school, she’s hollering ‘i love you!’ out the window before she drives off, which definitely embarrasses your kids lmao

before bed, it’s a necessity. tomorrow isn’t promised, and billie won’t take a single day with your family for granted

we know that bills sometimes can swear like a sailor, but around your kids, she watches her mouth, at least when they’re young

as they grow into teenagers, though, her authentic personality will show a little more.

she doesn’t want your kids to cuss at you or at her, that’s her rule. if they’re saying something to express themselves then she doesn’t really care too much, it’s just about time and place

does not fuck w drugs. like as they get older, if she finds out your kids are dabbling in that shit, it’s WRAPS

when your kids were babies, she prioritized going outside and actually doing things, not just being glued to a TV or ipad all the time

has def written many songs about your kids, a lot of them are unreleased because she likes to include personal details sometimes, but she def has a few songs sprinkled in her discography

billie doesn’t like when your kids are mad at her or when she has to harshly discipline them, but she will. quickly.

“cel, stop touching that before we have an issue.”

“why is this assignment not turned in? get it done by tonight or i’m gonna have your phone.”

she disciplines them in a way that’s kind of funny, though. maybe not to your kids, but it makes you giggle

“sage i swear, i don’t wanna keep hearing this whining about you poking your sister. leave celeste alone or i’m going to cut your fingers off.”

“bro, why do you have a missing assignment in guitar? you PLAY it at home? i swear, you just be doin’ shit.”

even though sometimes discipline is necessary, and hurts sometimes, billie loves your babies till the day she dies <3

send an ask to be added to my taglist !

taglist: @vharperr | @47lake | @hopingforgoodblogs | @zendayasredbottoms | @chrissv4mp | @mseilishmwah | @justtr | @natbelovasblog | @lovelyy-moonlight | @bilsdillldough | @billiesrighthand

[alexthetrashyracoon]

Fantasy au nobody asked for but I give you anyway.

Tags: Flowerfairy Reader, traveling mercenary Ghost, a bit of cursing, momentarily character death but we stay above the ground don't worry, a bit angsty but it gets a happy ending, I promise <3 (if that flops I'll cry)

Word count: 1350

"We shouldn't go this way." They flatly said and fluttered next to Ghost's face, brows in a pinch with their hands pressed against their rips. "It's dangerous."

Ghost grunted and swatted at them, not hard enough to hurt them or cause them to crash to the ground, but to get them out of his face. "You've been traveling with me long enough. You should know by now I don't care how dangerous it is as long as it gets me to the place I need to get." He says and leaves the cobbled path to take the short cut through the woods.

They huff and flutter after him. "I warned you."

It's been three months since Ghost met the little flower fairy, caught in some bandits' bottle. Ghost was hunting the group of bandits down, a big fat reward waiting for him when he brought back the leader, dead or alive it didn't matter.

So when he cleaned the camp, he found the bottle that had rolled under a sack and at first, Ghost had discarded it as trash, not looking twice at it but then he heard the little banging sound on glass and checked the bottle again, finding the little thing inside.

At first Ghost wasn't sure if he could believe his eyes. It wasn't everyday after all that someone came across a fairy, tiny human with wings on their back, but they pinched Ghost hard enough for him to believe it.

Ever since then Ghost allowed the fairy to graciously follow him, if they promised to keep their mouth shut, which they never truly did. They were talking all the time, chatting about whatever was on their mind. And Ghost, he would never admit that out loud, actually enjoyed the company for once. He was used to traveling alone, never bonding with others or keeping friendships alive for long. But something about the fairy was different.

At the end of the shortcut, Ghost finds himself standing in an opening that looks quite peaceful, not enough for him to drop his guard but the scenery is nice for a change.

He turns around to face the fairy who sits on his shoulder like usually when their wings get tired. They barely weigh anything more than a feather, even if he teases them all the time that if they keep eating so many cookies that he won't be able to keep walking with them on his shoulder. They always pout in return and don't talk to him for exactly ten minutes before chatting about some flower they have passed on their way.

"See. No danger around." Ghost grunts and decides it's time for a break, to replenish his strength and energy while enjoying a bit of nature's beauty. He puts down his backpack and sits down next to it. "Wake me in an hour."

The wake-up call never comes, or at least, not an hour later, but several hours, considering that the sun is going down right now and Ghost finds himself in a cage with his arms bound behind his back with rough rope. "The fuck is going on?" He asks, his tongue heavy as he speaks, eyes needing a few moments to focus again, ears still ringing, making hearing hard. Someone must have knocked him out cold when he took a nap, how embarrassing for someone like him to get caught off-guard by some amateur bandits.

Something... Someone, steps in front of the cage. "Look at that. The shithead who killed my brother is awake." That someone kicks the bars of the cage, making Ghost flinch at the rattling sound that comes with it.

He quickly gathers himself again, checking the guy outside the cage but not recognizing the person. "I killed many brothers... So, who the fuck are you?" Ghost asks, sounding overly confident, as always, even in situations where he should show a bit of restraint. Especially in situations like this.

The person grabs onto the bars of the cage and rattles them, baring his teeth like an animal. "You dick. I'll make you remember before... Hey! What the fuck! What is that?!" The bandit jumps and swats at something in the air but can't quite catch it.

Ghost's eyes widen, his fairy is back, he has been asking himself where they have gotten lost while he was in that cage. But he can't let their distraction be for nothing, he uses the chance to break the binding and steal the key from the bandits' leather belt to get out of the cage.

"Shit!" The bandit curses as he turns to look between Ghost and whatever is attacking him but decides to ultimately pay attention to Ghost, the bigger threat. Ghost's fairy uses the chance to get away to safety, leaving Ghost to fight without worrying about getting them into more danger.

It's clear as day that Ghost is no amateur and that there was no way in hell that the bandit would ever win. But somehow he managed to get away, right where Ghost's little fairy waited for him.

Ghost isn't fast enough to save them, he watches as the now bleeding bandit grabs the little fluttering thing and squeezes his hand shut until the noises stop and the forest completely falls silent.

He makes quick work of the bandit, he doesn't even look at his face as he cuts off his head. All he cares for is the little fairy in the bandits hand that's laying there, like a little doll, unmoving.

"Come now. Don't play with me, little fairy." Ghost says and picks their body up with shaking hands.

He never felt like this before, so damn helpless and clueless. What is he supposed to do? How can he turn back time to get his fairy back. The little chattering fairy that he learned to care for.

"I know you warned me it's dangerous... I should have listened." He says, not crying. He can't. He won't. Ghost never cries. Even if he wants to. "It's my fault you're dead. I'm sorry."

He remembers the promise they made a few weeks ago.

"Let's see the world together. You and I." They have happily announced back then and Ghost couldn't say now to their happy, smiling face. "Let's see the world together. You and I."

He would give his own life just for one more chance with them.

A single tear rolls down Ghost's cheek. It's more than he ever allowed himself before. It lands on their tiny body, staining their clothes.

Ghost searches for a spot to bury them, he knows they love flowers, so why not bury them in a field of them.

Just as he's finished with the hole in the ground, the air picks up, the breeze becomes warmer with flower petals and leaves flying through the air, surrounding him.

"That hole is way too small for someone as big as me."

Ghost knows that voice, he looks down only to find the body missing. Instead he sees naked feet, human feet standing in front of him, he looks up, following the long legs.

"How?" He asks, ignoring their nakedness and standing up, touching them, their humanly sized body. "I saw your dead body. He squeezed..."

"I don't know, Ghost. In my last moment I just remembered that we promised to travel the world together and when I opened my eyes again, I saw you on your knees, digging that hole." They explain with a smile, gratefully taking the woolen cloak from Ghost's hands and wrapping it around their shoulders. "I think Lady Fate is still not done with our story, Ghost."

At first it was a big change, gone was the tiny fairy fluttering around his head all the time, but Ghost quickly got used to seeing the other human next to him every night and day. Ghost had to teach them how to be human at first but he was sure that this was a challenge they would master too. One step at a time. And this time, Ghost would listen to his fairy turned human more often.

[insomniadreamzz]

Hiiii I love your writing! Maybe you could do a jinx x bigger like chubbier reader with a SHIT TON of stretch marks who’s just really insecure especially cus jinx has such a nice body and reader js doesn’t 🥲🥲🥲 totally asking for a friend! Heh… he… hm. 😑😑

Aww thank you! ❤️ Ofc I can. I hope you like this one.

Before I start this. Everyone is perfect just the way you are, thin, chubby, tall, short every body is amazing their own way and I will love to write this because I do want to include every kind of person in my x Reader stories ❤️

Fluff and a lot of love in this short❤️ plus a little nudity and mentions of chubby reader

———

Perfect

You knew Jinx for a long time now and you were friends. Actually you had a crush on her but you never dared to tell her, you were insecure about your body, you weren’t thin like her, you were a little chubby which made you feel like she wouldn’t like someone like you.

Jinx just finished working on something before she joined you on the couch in her workshop, sitting down beside you she sighed. „Done! Finally. Now I can take a little pause.“ She said as she leaned back, your eyes falling on her beautiful body resting beside you. „You definitely deserve a pause. I didn’t see you doing anything else today.“ You mentioned and she answered with a hum, nodding her head. Suddenly she turned to her side, hugging you tightly. She loved cuddling with you especially after working, it just calmed her down.

„Thankfully you are here. You don’t know how much this helps me.“ Jinx said with a soft whisper, making you blush a little bit. „How so?“ You dared to ask and Jinx smiled, a little giggle leaving her lips. „Because my voices a silent, they finally shut up when I cuddle you. Crazy right?“ She mentioned and it meant everything to you. You hugged her back and various options went through your mind. You wanted to kiss her but would she like it? Maybe she liked someone else? Maybe you’re just a good friend to her and nothing more. Friends can hug like this after all.

Your insecurities start overwhelming your mind you didn’t even notice Jinx staring at you. „Hey is someone home there??“ She asked, patting your head and made you get back to reality, looking at her, feeling a bit embarrassed by driving away with your mind. „Sorry what?“ You asked, causing Jinx to laugh at your reaction. „You’re cute.“ She said before pressing her lips against yours. Your eyes widened in shock but seeing she really wanted it, having her eyes closed you realised this wasn’t a daydream, closing your eyes and kissing her back.

The kiss lasted for a little longer, wishing it would never end but Jinx pulled back, looking at you with a loving gaze as she caressed your cheek. „Was this enough to show you how I feel?“ She asked with a teasing voice as her fingertips caressed your cheek so gently. You just nod slowly, not really finding the right words to say, her hand now moving underneath yours shirt, feeling your skin. The feeling of her cold hand against your skin made you shiver and tensed a little bit, she noticed and frowned in return. „Is everything alright? I mean…we don’t have to if you…“ „I want to!“ You cut her off. „I just…I am not as pretty as you are.“ You mumbled as you looked away from her gaze but she grabbed your face to make you look back at her. „This is bullshit.“ She said, encouraging you to take your shirt off, with a deep blush and a uncomfortable expression you again looked away. The stretch marks on your body were just the worst, you hated them.

„We don’t have to if you-…“ You started but get cut off by another kiss from her, her thin, fragile body pressed against yours, the contrast was huge but she didn’t care. Jinx loved you just the way you are and she showed, kissing you deeply as her hands caressed your body. Soon pulling back to catch her breath.

„You’re perfect.“ Jinx mumbled against your lips and you finally trusted her, feeling loved and you wouldn’t want this moment to stop, eventually ending up to explore each others bodies and making each other feel good.

[narxcisse]

★ — You have a WHAT— !?

Pairing: Viktor x GN!Reader

CW: OnlyFans (don't do it in irl, have some self-love. 😐), modern au, suggestive, recording with him, implied sex(?

English isn't my native language

You’d been living with Viktor for a few months now, and while you two had settled into a comfortable roommate dynamic, there were still plenty of boundaries. Viktor was, after all, a reserved and intensely private person. You, on the other hand, were a little more… free-spirited.

That’s probably why the revelation hit him like a freight train.

It started innocently enough. Viktor had been borrowing your laptop to work on something after his own device had overheated. You had, of course, told him to go ahead without thinking about the open tabs you’d left behind.

The moment he opened the browser, his eyes widened. Your profile stared back at him—your stage name, the carefully curated content, and the glaringly obvious subscriber count. He blinked a few times, unsure if he was hallucinating.

By the time you walked into the living room, coffee in hand, Viktor was sitting there, your laptop on his knees, looking like he’d just uncovered a conspiracy.

“Care to explain this?” he asked, tilting the screen toward you.

Your blood ran cold as your eyes darted to the laptop. The tab. Oh, no.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, nearly spilling your coffee. “I, uh… can explain.”

Viktor arched an eyebrow, clearly amused despite the slight redness in his ears. “I certainly hope so.”

You set your coffee down, running a hand through your hair. “It’s not a big deal. It’s… a side hustle. Pays the bills. And it’s not like I’m doing anything illegal.”

He hummed, leaning back on the couch. “A side hustle, you say? Judging by your subscriber count, it’s a rather… successful one.”

You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or mortified. Maybe both. “Look, I didn’t think it was something you needed to know about. It’s just… a thing I do.”

Viktor tapped his fingers on the laptop, his gaze thoughtful. “I’m not judging,” he said finally. “I just… didn’t expect it. You’re quite bold.”

You huffed out a laugh, relieved that he wasn’t outright horrified. “Well, thank you, I guess?”

He smirked, closing the laptop and handing it back to you. “Just make sure to clear your browser history next time. And if you ever need help with… production or branding—”

“Viktor!”

He chuckled softly, standing up and grabbing his cane. “What? You know I have an eye for design. Let me know if you ever need a logo.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, though you couldn’t help but laugh. Leave it to Viktor to turn your most embarrassing moment into a business opportunity.

---

It started as a joke, one of those late-night conversations fueled by too much takeout and not enough sleep. Viktor had brought up your OF account in passing, teasing you lightly about your "entrepreneurial spirit." You’d laughed it off at first, but somehow, the idea of him being your co-star had slipped out.

He’d arched an eyebrow at the suggestion, his lips quirking in a smirk. “You’re serious?”

“I mean…” you trailed off, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Why not? You’re… well, you know, attractive. I think people would lose their minds.”

To your surprise, Viktor had actually considered it. He wasn’t shy, but he had a reserved, almost clinical approach to most things. “If it’s purely professional,” he’d said eventually, his tone careful but intrigued, “then I suppose I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And that’s how you found yourself here, in your shared bedroom, with the camera set up and Viktor sitting at the edge of your bed, looking almost too composed for what you were about to do.

“You’re sure about this?” you asked, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, suddenly nervous.

Viktor adjusted his position, leaning on his cane with a slight smirk. “I don’t make decisions lightly. You, on the other hand, seem rather flustered for someone who does this regularly.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day I film with my roommate.”

His gaze softened slightly, and he reached out, brushing his fingers against yours. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll take it slow.”

The camera started rolling, and all your nerves seemed to dissipate the moment his lips met yours. Viktor’s touch was deliberate, his movements precise as though he were approaching this like one of his experiments—focused, attentive, and surprisingly passionate.

You quickly realized that Viktor’s calm, calculated demeanor translated into an intensity you hadn’t anticipated. He was all in, every touch and movement deliberate, as if he wanted to ensure that this wasn’t just convincing on camera—it was unforgettable.

When it was over, you were both breathless, tangled in the sheets as the camera’s red light blinked softly in the corner of the room. Viktor let out a soft chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Well,” he said, his voice teasing, “I think that went rather well.”

You laughed, still catching your breath. “You’re a natural. I might have to recruit you more often.”

He smirked, his amber eyes glinting with amusement. “Careful. I might start demanding a share of the profits.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him. “We’ll see about that.”

But as you lay there, Viktor’s arm draped lazily over your waist, you couldn’t help but think that this was definitely one of your better ideas.

— Guys, I found a dubious wifi connection, but I guess I'll use it until I have to go home lol.

[nneteyamss]

ROSES — 19. FAWK

(partly written)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊

y/n walked to the park, clutching her jacket closer to her body. the december air blew into her face making her cheeks red as she buried her face further into her scarf.

“why the fuck couldn’t i have picked somewhere warm… my ass should not be put in the cold at 8 o’clock at night.” y/n mumbled to herself, already regretting leaving her warm bed. from a distance she spotted intak seated on a bench, looking at his phone. he was bundled up in a big winter jacket and a scarf wrapped around his neck. yet he had hat, letting snow fall and stick to his black hair. intak suddenly looked up hearing y/n approach and stood to greet her.

“hey… thanks for meeting with me, sorry it’s cold.” guilt instantly ran through y/n’s body because he seemed nervous.

“sorry for making you wait, i don’t know why i picked outside..”

“no it’s okay, i just got here a couple minutes before you.”

y/n simply nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets. the silence was lasted as neither of the two said anything after that.

“uhm do you want to sit? i cleared the snow off the bench.” he gestures to the bench and she nods. they sit down and another awkward silence fills the air.

“so, what did you want to talk about?” y/n turns to him, breaking the silence.

“oh right! i wanted to apologize again about the other day. i shouldn’t have kissed you without asking or so suddenly like that.”

“i appreciate and accept your apology, but why were you there?”

“i don’t know how to explain this without sounding crazy but i knew jaehyun was going to be there, and i had a weird feeling he was going to try something. i came in disguise and i approached you because i saw him walking up to you” y/n started at him with a blank stare, processing what he just said.

“so you were stalking me?”

“well no… but yes? yes to an extent!” intak fumbled over his words, not expecting that question. he thought of it more as keeping an eye out on her for a space she knew the man she so says didn’t like was going to be in. now that she said it though, it kind of seemed like stalking. “sorry” he mumbled.

“your disguise was ass by the way, you should’ve asked shota for his fake mustache” she giggled looking ahead of her. the situation was getting too serious, and she felt the need to make it more lighthearted.

“no way… he said the SAME thing. how do YOU know about the fake stache?”

“i’m the one who bought it for him of course!”

“this is like a full circle moment, what the fuck.” the two laughed together at the moment. who would’ve ever thought that shota having a fake mustache would arise in this convo. however, the laughter eventually died down and intak turned serious. he turned to y/n and grabbed her hands, which were now out of her pockets.

“listen, i need to talk about the main reason i wanted to talk. please don’t say anything until i’m done.” he was dead serious, y/n nodded and pushed down any jokes she could’ve made in the moment. “we’ve been fake dating for a couple months now. we both know the original reason this started. but y/n… i really like spending time with you, like a lot. you’re funny, gorgeous, caring, and so much more. i didn’t plan it but i thought this was just gonna be some fun side quest activity. the more time i spent with you and got to actually know you and your personality, the more i started to actually like you. i tried to fight it off because i mean this relationship wasn’t real and i’m your brothers friend, but i can’t help it. i really… really want this to be real. we get along so well, and there’s a connection. what i really called you out here for was to ask this. i really really like you, could i have the honor of being your boyfriend?”

the long speech was followed by silence. one blink, two blinks, no words. embarrassment gnaws at intak who immediately started to regret asking out of fear of her not feeling the same. yet, he didn’t say anything and let her take her time.

“intak, i didn’t know you felt that way. i feel like this is very sudden though. i need to think about this before i answer, im so sorry” intak nodded and gave her hands a squeeze before letting go. “i’ll text you, i just need to think.” she said again before standing up.

“that’s okay” he gave her a small, yet warm smile. his cheeks were red and his hair was getting damp from the snow. y/n reached forward and pulled his jacket hat onto his head.

“you should get home before you get sick… it’s cold and you don’t have a hat.” the words left her mouth quietly, but intak still heard since the night was quiet was well.

“you should get back as well”

y/n nodded and put her hands back in her pockets, “i’ll see you.” she said and began making her exit of the park and going back home, leaving intak standing in the cold. by time she got in her car and started driving away, intak made his way to his car, waving as she backed out the parking spot.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊

previous — masterlist — next

taglist (closed): @cloudmrk @yyangj3lly @vehaez @mmjhh1998 @gomdoleemyson @alethea-moon @jkslvsnella @starfilledgaze @solvrse @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @nerdsungie @lovesuhng @tokitosun @dokgrayson @222brainrot @jakeshuneybby @antifrggile @cyjzzl @nctseventeensworld @bloomyroses @doughyk @lovefooi @chaerinmin @chenlesfavorite @urlocalbeaner5 @thegracerammy @lionzyon @fairyoflia @haefelt @sunflowerbebe07 @seventeeneration @apolloxxivmin @onlyhyunjin @pinklemonade34 @adorwooks @angelpiixie @jkxlvrr @hisrkive @sunghoonsgfreal @zzurao @mango-bear @bee-the-loser @callita @lttlekomori @neozon3nha @calssunflower @natokkiz @joonsprettygf

notes: lalala guess who finished finals, passed all their classes, and got back to work again this week (i need to make all the money i can over break for psyfe and 127 concerts) 🙂‍↕️