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lay all your love on me - op81 (C2)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (6.1K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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02: Love, Sweat, and Secondhand Embarrassment

"Clemmy I swear I wanted to die that entire time. Whoever I offended in an alternate universe I am so so sorry, I truly believe karma is real now," I lamented, voice weak.

Burying my head in my pillow, I could finally appreciate the cool blast of AC (well, it was a little bit of air conditioning but a little is better than nothing) I scratched my right leg that was hoisted up onto the blue duvet cover. If not for the horrible comedic timing of everything, in that moment, I might have said that I was enjoying myself.

On the other line of the phone, thousands of miles away, it was a completely different story.

"What the fuck," Clementine could barely muster out because she was laughing so hard.

"I still don't think any part of this story is funny, Clem," I roll my eyes and trail off.

"But it is! You genuinely should consider a career in stand-up comedy. If you recounted all of this in front of a paying live audience, I'm just saying it could make you a millionaire overnight," Clementine wheezed.

"Oh, shut up, bitch," I retorted, trying to suppress a smile despite my mortification.

"You know it's true though!" Her girlish giggles rang through my room. I could see her face through the screen and it looked like visible tears were streaming down her face from how funny she found this to be.

"I am completely and utterly humiliated. There is no way I can go downstairs and face everyone right now," I whined. It was true, as twenty minutes ago, mid-Facetime with Clementine, I heard the door to the foyer open and heard a lot of new noises.

New people. The neighbors. The rest of the Australians.

Crikey, mate.

There was no way I could face them. And since Oscar was probably their son (he looked way too young to be a father) he had probably already told them about the wretched and humiliating mishap.

"Seriously, Clemmy, you don’t get it," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice but failing miserably. "This is not just some embarrassing story. This is my life, and I have to face these people now."

Clementine’s laughter finally started to subside, and she took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, I get it. But you have to admit, this is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of disaster. You can’t just ignore it. It’s like the universe is telling you to embrace the chaos."

I sighed, feeling a bit more grounded with her calming tone. "Yeah, well, I’m not exactly feeling the universe’s love right now. I feel like I’ve been dropped into some kind of sitcom. And what if they think I’m a total klutz? I can’t even begin to imagine how Oscar must’ve described me."

"It'll be fine. You are a pro at handling horrible situations. I mean, I can really only think that you have had more bad experiences with guys than good ones!" Clem tried to reassure me.

"Wow, thanks," I deadpanned. "Way to make a girl feel special."

Clementine's voice was full of playful sympathy. "Hey, I’m just saying, you’ve survived everything life’s thrown at you so far. Besides, look at it this way: if they’re judging you based on this one incident, they’re missing out on getting to know the amazing person you are."

"Yeah, because nothing says 'amazing' like face-planting into a pile of shampoo and knocking over a bunch of cleaning supplies," I said, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

Clementine laughed. "Exactly! And let’s be honest, if they do judge you for this, they’re definitely not worth your time. Besides, Oscar might even think you’re charming in a clumsy, endearing kind of way. You never know."

"You should really consider a career in therapy. If I lay here and close my eyes for a bit and sleep for three hours surely your advice will work," I retorted.

"Oh be so serious with me now,"

"I am! Now I can add a new skill to my LinkedIn profile," I said, trying to stifle a giggle. "How about 'Expert in Catastrophic Bathroom Mishaps: Master of Turning Shower Encounters into Slapstick Comedy'?"

Clementine burst into laughter. “That’s quite a title! It’s like you’ve got a whole new niche market for yourself.”

“Right? I’m just waiting for the endorsement from ‘The Association of Embarrassing Bathroom Incidents,’” I said, imagining a badge with that exact title. What a big, fat, fucking joke.

“Or maybe you'll become the keynote speaker for the 'International Conference on Unexpected Water-Based Accidents,’” Clementine added, her voice full of amusement.

“I’ll make sure to include a workshop on ‘How to Survive a Bathroom Collision with Dignity and Humor,’” I said with a chuckle. “And don’t forget the seminar on ‘Turning Slip-and-Fall Disasters into Networking Opportunities.’”

“A career to consider!” Clementine laughed. “And you know what? I’ll be your first fan. Just remember to keep me updated on how your new ‘disastrous bathroom mishap’ career is going.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” I promised with a smile. “Thanks for the laugh. It’s nice to know that even in the middle of a fiasco, I can count on you to turn it into a comedy show.”

"What can I say, I will never turn down listening to a free shit show," Clementine winked at me through the camera.

"Clem! What the hell!" I waved my manicured pointed nail at her.

"Bye! Don't die from embarrassment before you come back!" She quipped, then promptly hung up.

I lay sprawled on my bed, dreading the thought of going downstairs and facing the group of new neighbors. The whole idea made me cringe. I was just about to mentally prepare myself for the awkward introductions when a sudden knock on my door jolted me upright. My heart raced as I called out lazily, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Oscar standing there. His eyebrow was raised, and he wore a cheeky grin that did nothing to ease my nerves.

"Well, well, well," he said with an amused smirk. "Looks like you’ve been having quite the chat with 'dearest Clemmy,' haven’t you?"

My face flushed beet red, and I stuttered, struggling to find my words. “W-What are you doing here?”

Oscar leaned casually against the doorframe, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Oh, you know, just overheard you and Clemmy talking about our little mishap. I believe you mentioned something about me being ‘a charming yet infuriating Aussie who managed to turn your bathroom break into a comedy skit.’”

I blinked, stunned into silence. My mouth opened and closed, but no coherent words came out. The sheer embarrassment was overwhelming. Oscar’s casual demeanor and his cheeky grin only made things worse.

“What can I say, my name was called,” Oscar continued with a mischievous glint in his eye. “If someone keeps calling you hot, I mean, wouldn’t you be too curious to listen?”

His smirk only made my breath hitch and my fingers tremble a little more. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I struggled to come up with a response. The playful glint in his eye and his casual attitude did nothing to alleviate my embarrassment. Instead, they only made me feel more flustered.

I took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “W-Well, I guess I didn’t think anyone would be actually listening.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow playfully, his smirk widening. “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. But it was too good to pass up. Especially the part where you called me a ‘human wrecking ball.’”

My face flushed a deeper shade of crimson. “Great. Just great,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m sure I’ve made a fantastic first impression.”

Oscar chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Look, it’s all good. I’ve seen worse first impressions. Trust me. At least you didn’t accidentally set off the fire alarm or flood the place.”

I managed a weak smile, still feeling the sting of embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I’ll try to keep any future disasters to a minimum.”

Look at me, constantly embarrassing myself in front of hot guys. This was the exact reason why I was still bitchless and socially awkward at the ripe age of twenty-one. I could navigate a spreadsheet like a pro, ace exams, and even master the perfect contour, but put me in a room with a cute guy, and I turned into a walking calamity.

I sighed internally, already dreading the inevitable teasing I’d get from Clemmy once she found out I had, yet again, failed to keep my cool around a guy. Maybe I should’ve just stayed in the bathroom and let the ground swallow me whole.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, studying me with a curious look. “You know, you seem like a completely different person right now. Way quieter, more shy… less daring.”

My face flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “That’s not true,” I snapped, crossing my arms defensively. “I’m exactly the same as I was before.”

Oscar’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on me. “Sure, if you say so. But the girl who almost took me down like a rugby player in the bathroom seemed a lot more fearless.”

My nose flared as I shot him a glare, feeling the fire of indignation rise within me. Who did he think he was, making assumptions about me? I’ll show him just how brave I can be, I thought, my fists clenching. If he wanted to see daring, then I’d make sure he regretted ever doubting me. The nerve of this guy! He might have been hot, but that didn’t give him the right to push my buttons like this.

Oscar gave me a lopsided grin, clearly pleased with himself. "Anyway, everyone’s heading downstairs to meet each other. Figured I’d let you know, since, you know, it’s probably not the best idea to hide out up here forever."

My stomach twisted with nerves at the thought of facing everyone after that humiliating encounter. The idea of meeting new people while still reeling from my disastrous introduction to Oscar was daunting. But there was no way I was going to let him see how nervous I actually was. I took a deep breath, nodding stiffly. "Fine, let’s get this over with."

As we walked out of the room and toward the stairs, I could feel Oscar’s presence behind me—large, imposing, and annoyingly close. My face heated up, and I silently cursed myself for blushing yet again. Why did this guy have to make everything so difficult?

It was like shooting a sitting duck. A little small talk, a smile, and baby, I was stuck. I was a grown woman, for god’s sake, not some teenager swooning over a crush. But there I was, getting flustered over a guy I barely knew. Get a grip, I told myself, trying to shake off the absurdity of the situation. This wasn’t supposed to happen—I wasn’t supposed to be this easily charmed.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I hesitated, gripping the railing a little longer than usual. I could feel Oscar’s gaze on me, and it only made my nerves worse. Just as I was about to take the first step down, his hand brushed against mine. The contact was brief but enough to send a jolt of awareness through me. His hand was rough with calluses, moderately enveloping mine in a way that felt both comforting and disarming.

What was it about this guy that made me feel so uncharacteristically off-balance? As I tried to steady my racing thoughts, I reminded myself that I had to keep it together. After all, I wasn’t about to let some smooth-talking Aussie turn me into a lovesick fool—no matter how much my traitorous heart seemed to enjoy the challenge.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my eyes were drawn to two adults who were deep in conversation with my mom. Their warm, friendly demeanor and unmistakable Australian accents told me they were Oscar’s parents. They seemed just as lively and outgoing as he was, which only added to the strangeness of this entire situation.

Then, I spotted Oscar’s siblings—a trio of sisters who looked like carbon copies of him, yet each had her own distinct vibe, like different fonts of the same typeface. They were laughing and joking with each other, their bond evident in the way they effortlessly engaged in light-hearted banter. I felt a pang of envy, wishing I had siblings to share that kind of closeness with.

My daydream was abruptly shattered when Oscar’s large, warm hand clasped onto my shoulder, his fingers pressing gently but firmly against my skin. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, making me jump slightly as a flush of heat rushed to my cheeks. His chuckle, deep and amused, rumbled behind me, the sound wrapping around me like a teasing caress. He was standing on the step just above me, close enough that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. His presence was unmistakably felt—broad, solid, and way too close for comfort, yet somehow not close enough.

His fingers lingered on my shoulder, almost as if he was testing my reaction, and I could feel the warmth radiating from his touch, seeping into my skin. The space between us seemed to shrink with every passing second, and I could barely concentrate on anything but the weight of his hand and the steady beat of my heart hammering in my chest.

Oscar leaned in slightly, his voice low and smooth as honey. “Jumpier than I thought,” he drawled, his tone dripping with playful mischief. “Didn’t take you for the shy type. Especially not after our little bathroom tango.” His grin widened, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that was both infuriating and ridiculously charming.

My pulse quickened at the way he was looking at me—those eyes sparkling with amusement, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I swallowed hard, my mind racing to come up with a retort, but all I could focus on was how his hand, still resting on my shoulder, felt both protective and possessive. The air between us crackled with a tension that was impossible to ignore, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

I could quite literally cut the sexual tension with the dullest fucking butterknife in the world.

I tried to muster a sharp retort, something that would wipe that smug grin off his face, but my brain was too busy short-circuiting to cooperate. All I could manage was a stuttered, “I-I’m not shy! You just—caught me off guard, that’s all.” The words tumbled out, weak and unconvincing, and I mentally cringed at how feeble they sounded.

Oscar’s grin only grew, clearly enjoying my flustered state. He leaned in a little closer, his gaze locked on mine with a playful intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “Off guard, huh?” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “So, you’re saying if I hadn’t surprised you, you’d be able to keep up?”

I opened my mouth to respond, determined to regain some semblance of dignity, but nothing clever came out. Instead, I just stood there, caught between wanting to pull away from his teasing and feeling inexplicably drawn to his warmth. His hand slid from my shoulder, and the absence of his touch left a surprising chill in its wake.

Realizing that my window for a comeback was closing, I finally managed to sputter, “Y-Yeah, exactly.” I immediately cursed myself for sounding so pathetic. Not exactly the sharp comeback I was hoping for. His smirk deepened, and I could tell he wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Oscar replied, his tone still dripping with amusement. He straightened up, giving me a quick wink before stepping down to the next stair. The playful glint in his eyes told me he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin, and he was loving every second of it.

As he moved past me, I finally found my voice—too little, too late—and muttered under my breath, “Cocky bastard.” But it was quiet enough that I hoped he didn’t hear it. To my dismay, Oscar paused, turning back with a raised eyebrow and an even wider grin.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Care to repeat it?”

My cheeks flamed as I quickly shook my head. “Nope, nothing. Let’s just… go meet everyone.”

Oscar’s grin didn’t falter as he took a step closer, still looming above me. “You know,” he began, his voice casual but with that familiar teasing edge, “I’ve already met everyone else. Your mom, too. And I’ve gotta say, you two seem like complete opposites.”

I blinked up at him, caught off guard again. “Opposites?”

He nodded, leaning against the wall with that effortless ease he seemed to have perfected. “Yep. Your mom’s all smiles and warm welcomes. You, on the other hand… well, you’ve got this whole ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe going on.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or just messing with me again. “I do not have a ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe.”

Oscar’s lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh. “Oh, you totally do. But don’t worry,” he added with a playful smirk, “it’s kind of endearing. Keeps things interesting.”

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Glad to know I’m so entertaining for you.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying, opposites attract, right? Besides, your mom already likes me. You could take a few notes.”

His comment sent a fresh wave of warmth to my cheeks, both from irritation and something I couldn’t quite place. “I don’t need notes from you,” I shot back, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

Oscar just chuckled, giving me one last teasing wink before turning to head down the stairs. “Whatever you say, mate. Just try not to tackle anyone else while you’re at it.”

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A girl with short hair and a devious grin matching Oscar's grinned at me as well entered the kitchen. Shimmering her hands like "jazz hands", she rolled her eyes and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

I turned to face the new arrival, immediately recognizing her as one of Oscar’s sisters—one of the three siblings who seemed to share his penchant for mischief. Her cropped hair and sharp, playful eyes made her look like she’d just stepped out of a rom-com where she was the resident troublemaker, always stirring the pot and having a laugh at everyone else’s expense.

“Hey, party people,” she said, her voice dripping with a teasing lilt. She shot me a grin that was almost a mirror image of Oscar’s, mischievous and knowing, like she was in on some inside joke I hadn’t been let in on yet. I could feel the same heat from before creeping up my neck. Why did it feel like these siblings were reading me like an open book?

“Looks like someone’s already made a grand entrance,” she continued, flicking her eyes between me and Oscar with an amused smirk. “Oscar’s been talking about you nonstop since we got here. Said something about a ‘bathroom fiasco’ that deserves an award?”

I shot a glare at Oscar, who was leaning casually against the counter, looking far too pleased with himself. “Did he now?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the mortification clawing at me.

The girl laughed, light and musical, but with an edge that told me she was fully enjoying every bit of this. “Oh yeah, he’s been filling us in. But don’t worry, we’re used to his tall tales. I’m Hattie, by the way,” she added, extending a hand with exaggerated enthusiasm as if we were meeting on the set of a game show rather than in my kitchen.

I hesitated for a beat before shaking her hand, trying to muster a smile that didn’t look too forced. “Nice to meet you, Hattie. I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she interrupted, her grin widening. “You’re the girl who almost took out my brother. Honestly, I’m impressed. No one’s ever managed to knock him off his game quite like that.”

I glanced at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an infuriatingly smug look on his face. Maisie’s comment hung in the air, both a compliment and a lighthearted jab. I couldn’t help but feel like I was once again the butt of some inside joke between the siblings.

“Yeah, well, it’s a special talent of mine,” I said, trying to sound casual but feeling like every word was being scrutinized. “Guess I just have that effect.”

Hattie laughed, the sound bright and unapologetically amused. “Oh, I like you already. But hey, if you’re gonna hang out with us, you better be ready for a little friendly chaos. And maybe a few more unexpected collisions.”

Oscar gave a soft snort of laughter, and I could feel his eyes still on me, assessing, teasing, and—annoyingly—almost impressed. I tried to ignore the butterflies that seemed to be staging a full-on rebellion in my stomach. Clearly, this family thrived on playful torment, and I had somehow found myself right in the middle of it.

“Don’t worry,” I said, straightening up and forcing a confident smile. “I think I can handle whatever you guys throw at me.”

Hattie's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she gave me a mock salute. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to the chaos, mate.”

Oscar chuckled again, giving me that damn wink before pushing off from the counter. “Oh, she’s ready for it. Trust me, she’s already made quite the impression.”

The other two girls strolled in, each with their own distinct energy that filled the room. One had a fierce, confident look, dark hair tied up in a messy bun, and a leather jacket that screamed ‘cooler-than-you’ vibes. The youngest, a curly-haired, bright-eyed whirlwind, practically bounced into the kitchen, her infectious smile lighting up the space.

“So,” I said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sudden influx of new faces. “I’ve met Oscar, obviously, and… Hattie, right?” I glanced at the girl who had first greeted me, who nodded with a playful smile. “But I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your names yet,” I continued, pointing between the other two sisters.

The girl with the leather jacket gave me a wry grin, leaning casually against the counter. “I’m Edie,” she said, her voice dripping with casual confidence. “The cooler, smarter middle child.”

Mae, the youngest, immediately chimed in, rolling her eyes at her sister. “And I’m Mae, the fun one,” she said with a giggle, her curls bouncing as she hopped up onto a stool. “Edie’s just mad she wasn’t born with my charm.”

Edie snorted, pretending to be offended. “Please, you’re like a tiny tornado of chaos. But yeah, I guess she’s not wrong,” she added, shooting me a smirk. “Mae’s got a way of making everything a little… livelier.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their playful back-and-forth. “Nice to officially meet you all. And thanks for the heads-up on your brother’s antics,” I said, glancing at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an amused glint in his eye.

“Oh, trust me,” Hattie added, her grin widening as she nudged Oscar with her elbow. “We’ve got years of experience keeping this one in line. You’re welcome to join the effort.”

Oscar threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Wow, ganging up on me already? This is why I never bring girls home,” he joked, though there was a hint of genuine warmth in his voice, like he was more than used to—and secretly enjoyed—their teasing.

Mae leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just wait till we start telling you all the embarrassing stories. Oscar’s got quite a few, and we’ve got no problem spilling the tea.”

Oscar smirked, shifting his weight just enough to close the distance between us, his presence suddenly feeling a lot closer, a lot warmer. He leaned in with a casual ease, his movements smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to make me squirm. His voice dropped into a playful, low tone, rich and velvety, each word dripping with deliberate charm. “Oh, don’t worry about them,” he murmured, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “I’d much rather hear your stories. You’re far more interesting than anything they could say about me.”

The way he looked at me was like I was the only person in the room, his eyes lingering on mine with a bold, flirtatious glint that sent a shiver down my spine. His grin was maddeningly confident, a little crooked, and devastatingly irresistible—the kind of smile that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. It was teasing, suggestive, and far too charming for its own good, like he was daring me to blush, daring me to react.

I felt the heat creeping up my neck, a slow burn that spread across my cheeks, making my skin prickle with the sudden awareness of how close he was. My mind scrambled for something clever to say, but his flirtatious tone, the way his eyes roved over my face as if he was reading every reaction, left me tongue-tied. It was like he was peeling back layers with just a look, searching for the part of me that he could fluster with a few well-placed words and that infuriating smile.

I tried to steady my breath, but his proximity was overwhelming. I could catch the faint scent of his cologne—fresh, with a hint of something spicy—and the subtle shift of his body as he leaned closer sent my senses into overdrive. Every nerve seemed to hum in response to his nearness, and I could feel my face burning hotter, betraying me with every second that I failed to look away.

Edie made a gagging noise, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Ew, Oscar, seriously? Can you not flirt for like five seconds? It’s embarrassing.”

Mae giggled, giving Oscar a playful shove. “Yeah, gross. No one wants to see that. Save it for when we’re not around, Romeo.”

Hattie snorted, shaking her head as she watched Oscar with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “He’s always like this. Thinks he’s Mr. Smooth. Don’t let him get to you.”

But Oscar only chuckled, clearly unfazed by his sisters’ teasing. He turned back to me, his grin widening as he caught sight of my flushed cheeks. “Aww, look at that,” he said, his voice soft and teasing. “Did I make you blush? How cute.”

I quickly tried to hide my face, mortification bubbling up as I realized there was no escaping the heat radiating from my cheeks. “N-No, you didn’t,” I stammered, though the pink tint on my face said otherwise.

Oscar’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in just a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not very good at hiding it, you know. It’s kind of endearing.”

I could practically feel my cheeks getting even more red, if that was even possible. His sisters snickered behind us, enjoying the show as much as they enjoyed tormenting him.

Mae nudged Hattie, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “He’s really laying it on thick, huh? Someone needs to put a leash on this one.”

Hattie snickered and turned to me, giving me an exaggeratedly sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, he does this to everyone. It’s part of his ‘charm offensive.’ Just don’t let him get away with it too easily.”

“Yeah, make him work for it,” Edie added with a laugh. “And don’t let that blush fool you. He’s got enough of an ego without you feeding it.”

Oscar just shrugged, clearly unbothered by his sisters’ ribbing. He kept his eyes on me, his smile softening just slightly. “They’re just jealous because they know I’m right. You really are something else.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to fight the smile that was creeping onto my face despite my best efforts. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, crossing my arms in an attempt to compose myself.

Oscar leaned back, finally giving me a bit of space but not without one last wink. “Impossible’s my specialty,” he said, the playful challenge hanging in the air.

Hattie clapped her hands together, breaking the charged silence that had wrapped around us. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s change the scene before this kitchen gets any steamier,” she said with a sly grin, glancing between Oscar and me. “What do you say we all head out to the pool? It’s hot as hell today, and I could use a swim.”

Mae’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and she bounced on her toes with excitement. “Yes, please! I’ve been dying to jump in all morning. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Edie shrugged, pushing off the counter. “Sounds like a plan. Beats sitting around here watching Oscar make a fool of himself,” she said, shooting her brother a pointed look that he brushed off with a careless smirk.

I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden change in plans. The thought of the pool—cool water, bright sun, and lounging with these new, vibrant personalities—was tempting, but my mind immediately jumped to what that would mean: changing into a bikini, being under the sun's scrutiny, and, worse, the idea of Oscar’s eyes on me again, but this time with even less to hide behind.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, trying to sound casual, though my heart was starting to race for an entirely different reason now. “Just give me a minute to get changed.”

As I slipped back into my room, I rummaged through my suitcase, finding the bright bikini I had packed on a whim but hadn’t quite planned on wearing in front of a whole audience of strangers. It was a pretty number—a little more revealing than I was used to—but suddenly, the idea of wearing it around Oscar felt daunting. My insecurities bubbled up: the nagging thoughts of whether my stomach was flat enough, if my thighs looked alright, or if the faint stretch marks I tried so hard to ignore would be too noticeable under the bright afternoon sun.

I took a deep breath, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I tugged at the fabric, trying to adjust it in a way that made me feel more comfortable, but the nerves wouldn’t settle. I could already imagine Oscar’s eyes lingering on me, his playful smirk turning into something more appraising, and the thought sent a rush of heat to my cheeks. God, why was I letting this get to me? It was just a pool. Just a bikini. Just Oscar. But the more I tried to rationalize, the more those little fears crept in, whispering doubts that made my stomach churn.

I was so lost in my own thoughts, adjusting and readjusting the strings and trying to silence the negative self-talk, that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a sudden knock rattled my door. My heart leaped into my throat, and I spun around, my breath catching as I called out, “W-Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came Oscar’s familiar voice, muffled but still clear enough to send a jolt of nerves through me. “Just checking to see if you’re alright in there. You’ve been quiet, and, well, didn’t want you chickening out on us.”

His tone was light, but there was something softer in it, something that caught me off guard. It wasn’t the usual teasing or the cocky one-liners I’d grown accustomed to in the short time I’d known him. This felt… genuine. A flicker of concern threaded through his words, almost like he actually cared if I was okay. My cheeks flushed anew, this time from the unexpected warmth of his attention rather than embarrassment.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my cover-up as I tried to piece together my swirling thoughts. Was this the same Oscar who had been smirking at me in the kitchen, flirting shamelessly in front of his sisters? The same Oscar who seemed to relish every moment he made me blush or stumble over my words? It was strange, almost disarming, to hear him like this—concerned, attentive, with none of his usual bravado.

My heart fluttered at the thought. What if there was more to him than just the cheeky guy who lived for teasing? I couldn’t help but feel a small, unexpected tug in my chest, an urge to believe that this side of him was real and not just some act. But then, just as quickly, my rational side kicked in, reminding me that I’d known Oscar for all of three hours, most of which had been spent flustered and caught up in his whirlwind of charm.

Was I reading too much into this? Was I letting my own insecurities and wishful thinking color my perception of him? It was hard not to, especially when he swung so easily between flirty and sincere, keeping me constantly off-balance. I barely knew this guy, yet here I was, letting my mind wander into dangerous territory, imagining depth and sincerity that might not even be there.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my thoughts. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions—didn’t want to let a few kind words make me think I’d seen some hidden side of him. But it was hard not to feel flustered when his voice had softened like that, when he’d taken the time to check on me instead of just joking about how long I was taking.

The knock on my door, the concern in his tone—it all felt so different from the playful Oscar who’d swaggered into my life just a few hours ago. Maybe it was nothing, just a moment of decency, a brief glimpse of something real behind the jokes and teasing. Or maybe I was just overthinking, desperate to see something more in him because he’d managed to get under my skin in a way I wasn’t quite prepared for.

I sighed, feeling my cheeks heat up once more as the realization hit me—I was blushing again, and not just from embarrassment this time. There was something about Oscar, something that made me want to believe he was more than the carefree charmer he projected. But whether that was true or just wishful thinking, I couldn’t be sure. Not yet.

“I-I’m fine!” I called back, trying to steady my voice, but it came out shaky, betraying the mix of anxiety and embarrassment that had settled in my chest. “Just… getting ready.”

There was a pause on the other side of the door, long enough that I thought he might have walked away. But then, Oscar’s voice cut through again, softer this time, and with a teasing edge. “You sure? I promise no one’s gonna judge you out there. Least of all me.”

The reassurance felt sincere, but I couldn’t help the way my mind raced with all the what-ifs. What if he did look? What if I didn’t look good enough? What if this stupid bikini made me feel more exposed than I could handle? I glanced at myself one last time in the mirror, trying to summon the confidence that I usually wore so easily, but right now felt like it was hiding somewhere I couldn’t reach.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I finally managed, forcing a smile I hoped he couldn’t hear through the door. “Just... give me a sec. I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time,” Oscar said, his voice fading as he finally moved away from the door. “But don’t take too long. You don’t wanna miss the fun.”

As his footsteps retreated, I let out a shaky breath, trying to collect myself. I ran a hand through my hair, giving myself one last pep talk before heading out. It was just a pool day, I reminded myself. Just a stupid pool day with some new people and a guy who was way too good at making me blush. And maybe, just maybe, it would be fun—if I could get out of my own head long enough to let it be.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09

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whiteeyes-is-a-mad-scientist · 1 day

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The new seawing in the reef

Sunhunter waited silently in the sand. She hated being so… out in the open. Especially now. She jumped hearing a dragon rise from the water.

"Relax. Just me." Snapping turtle shook off a stray piece of seaweed. His spots gave a faint yellow flash in the moonlight. "If your here just to tell me that I'm in danger I know…" sunhunter frowned at the familiar look the seawing held.

"I'm here to offer you a way out actually." He trudged through the sand as it began to clump on his wet talons. He shook the sand off and opened his talon. Within it was an earring, a shiny pearl carved in the shape of a star. "Oh its beautiful… but how is jewelry supposed to help me?" Sunhunter took it into her talon to further examine.

"Argile made it so he could come with me into the deep palace. He doesn't really come into the ocean these days." He glanced toward the deep blue "it's enchanted. It'll turn you into a seawing as long as you wear it."

Sunhunter felt her scales shiver "Snapping turtle… I can't… all my visions... they come in water I don't want to imagine how awful it would be in the water…" she shook her head. "How do you know? You've never been in the ocean." He leaned forward "Sunhunter you don't really have a lot of options here. The skywings are after you… they can't go into the ocean."

Snapping turtle was right. The mercenaries and assassin's were getting more crafty. Even those against the skywings would give longing glances at her. No doubt gaging whether or not the bounty was worth it. "I..I dont know how to be a seawing.." she frowned "I don't know aquatic or how to swim or or-" "I'll teach you." Snapping turtle flashed a rare smile. "What about the talons? I still want to help the peace effort…" she looked at the earring. "Oh for moons sake forget the talons! This is your life in danger!" He exasperated "Sunhunter… please… I dont want to see you become some trophy for the skywings.." His eyes were weirdly desperate.

Sunhunter sighed and slipped the earring on. A deeply cold chill ran through her scales. She shut her eyes tightly as the world spun, she stumbled forward and met Snapping turtles chest. Past the pounding in her head she could hear him "Its alright… Argile struggled a bit as well…"

Her scales stopped tingling and the pounding headache faded. She felt snapping turtles wing on her back, brushing softly. She also felt her new gills, webbed toes, and flashy spots. She opened her eyes to find her new night vision. Also finding herself needing to look up toward snapping turtle "Oh making me shorter than you is unfair." Snapping turtle snorted "Welcome to being the short and stocky tribe."

Sunhunter stumbled steadying herself. She used to be shoulder heavy but now her weight was all over. She felt stronger despite being shorter. Snapping turtle stared and sunhunter rolled her eyes "I know I look stupid don't I.." "No.. I think you look good as a seawing. I like that the earring chose a mix of more saturated green-ish blue scales. Unique in pattern but not out of place for a seawing." He smirked "but I do miss your original look."

Sunhunters face scales felt faintly like her sandwing warm ones but it went away quickly. She smiled "I have a great hunger for fish now." "Beats those awful roasted tarantulas you used to eat." He stuck his tongue out. "You never tried them so don't start." Sunhunter raised her head, her shiny sea ready scales catching the moonlight. Watching the moons for a moment she turned back to snapping turtle "Well what should my new name be? Sunhunter isn't... seawing... like."

He glanced away "hm.. clam?" "Clam?" Sunhunter retracted "Are you saying I have a big mouth?" She glared. "No! I just- ugh ill get something else…" He rubbed his chin "I'm not good at names…"

Sunhunter sighed before flopping into the sand. A faint dizzy feeling hitting her like a wave "So when does the dizzness stop?"

Snapping turtled perked up as she curled into a C "Cove! Your new name should be cove." He smiled as sunhunter titled her head "Hm... I do like it... but it doesnt mean something dumb does it?"

"No no... A cove is just a small bay often secluded. The waters often have a greenish blue look." He nudged her with a wing "I can show you."

"Ok... but dont let me drown..." She steadied herself and headed toward the water

Snapping turtle chuckled "Of course."

#wings of fire #wings of fire oc #wings of fire art #wof art #wof #wof ocs

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just-a-itty-bitty-kitty · 2 days

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Thinking about how the Narrator doesn't really know if the world stays saved when we die, and yet in some cases He tries to reassure/console us during our 'last moments'.

"You've paid a terrible price, but you've saved us all." He doesn't know that. Maybe He's just trying to describe it into existence, hoping that if you die with the thought, it'll become true? But in other times, He's sure that our death means doom for whatever world we've left behind. "The world doesn't stay saved if you die." Then why tell us that we've saved it?

I also think it's interesting how emotional Narrator gets by the end of each chapter 1. He treats us differently based on our actions and how we approach the situation.

If we try and save the Princess, he purposely makes our death as long and painful as he possibly can, presumably, out of pure spite. "It is agony. But you aren't dead yet." "She sinks the blade into your chest again, and again, and again... and you feel every inch of burning pain that slices itself into your body."

If we resist his instructions at first, but give in later, he seems genuinely apologetic. "This can't actually be how everything ends..!" "I'm sorry, but it is." or "As much as I'd preferred for things to have gone differently, I can't deny the reality of what has happened." He wants this to work, and he wants us to come out happy and content by the end of it.

He seems caught off guard in the Spectre route if we try to kill her while she's in our body. "Slay her would slay you. Are you sure you're willing to do that?" One would expect Him to immedietly be on board with whatever plan gets rid of Her, but the "heroic"(in His eyes) gesture immedietly makes Narrator develop a soft spot and start to worry for our well being. He doesn't like the idea of the hero being denied their happy ending.

He genuinely believes the Princess to be a manifestation of everything evil in the world and constantly denies her any personhood. It's not an active choice either, as Narrator is an Echo with a set amount of beliefs that cannot be changed. He never changes His mind about anything and one of His core beliefs is that He is right. He has to be, otherwise everything he'd done, everything he went through, it would all be for nothing.

That which was once a defensive thought, shaped by his own hurt and unwillingness to see another perspective, becomes a universal truth.

#slay the princess #the narrator stp #this isn't a narrator apologist post but it kinda is at the same time #mf is kinda evil but also doesn't really have a choice #but also not having a choice was his choice but also also his choice was shaped by the hurt he had endured during his lifetime but also-#and yet i think he genuinely cares for LQ in a way #we're his hero <3 #talk about a favorite child #this is all my interpretation ofc ofc

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thesleepyfable · 3 days

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~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 12: ~

Operation Spy Part 1:

Here we go. The moment we've all been waiting for. The rescue. How will it go? Knowing this lot...

Step 1. Grab the yellow paint and mark the infected containers.

Step 2. Load the infected inside.

Step 3. Get back to the mainland.

Step 4. ...

Well, we'll see what happens afterwards.

Brodie and Roper waited at the Under Rig. They watched the horizon. An outline of a cargo ship came into view. It was a strange feeling. They were all so relieved because this was it - they were going home - but how can you just walk away from this? Easy. You don't.

The pair had to count their lucky stars. They weren't dead like Gregor or turned into something no one thought possible like Rennick. They can still have a normal life. Until then, they just had to go through an investigation, followed by a debriefing and possible firing from Cadal to cover their own arse. It's not like anyone here would care. If Cadal was thinking about sending anyone here to another rig, then they had another thing coming.

'So, what's your plan, Roper?'

'I think I'm going to take myself and the misses on that long needed holiday to Spain. What about you?'

'Take myself and Raffs back to Skye and...'Brodie shrugged. 'I dunno. Rethink my life choices.'

Roper wasn't daft. He was basically the crew's therapist when he wasn't manning Marine Control, and he knew something was bothering Brodie. Which was an oddity in and of itself because nothing bothered him. He was a father figure to most of the younger lads here, especially Raffs. Brodie's known him since he was a child. Roper's eyes lingered towards Brodie's crossed arms. His hands gripped to the sleeves as if he were hanging onto them for dear life. His breathing was laboured, which he'd just pass off as the cold.

'Don't blame yourself,' Roper said. Brodie's shoulders and jaw tensed. 'Raffs is fine. You're fine.'

'I know.' Brodie spoke through gritted teeth. 'But, I shouldn't have let him go down there.'

'He wasn't infected.'

'The lad wasn't ready.'

'Yes, he was, Brods. If none of this happened, he'd be going head first back into that diving bell. Give him time. He'll tell you what he wants.'

Of course, Roper was right, and with a supportive pat on the shoulder, he made his way to the Deck for an update. Brodie continued to watch the cargo ship come into view and took a deep breath to help himself relax.

'He's right.' Raffs' voice broke Brodie out of his spell. The pair had failed to notice that the young man was just around the corner. He approached and leaned against the railing. He seemed happier today. More relaxed. His wide eyes were calm, and his hands weren't shaking. 'I mean - Yeah, I was terrified, but I knew I was safe. Plus, I did hit my head in there. Of course, I'm going to be shak-'

Brodie didn't let Raffs finish his sentence. He just grabbed the young man he saw as his son and held him close. Raffs knew what this was. He's felt this crushing hug before, where Brodie kept him close and refused to let go. The last time he felt it was when Raffs nearly fell down the stairs carrying one side of a dresser. You couldn't fight it either. Any second now...

'I'm sorry.'

There it is.

Raffs returned the hug, though he could never have the strength of Brodie. 'I'm fine,' he said with reassurance whilst he pulled away. 'Just needed to wrap my head around all this.' Brodie's heard that excuse before, but he'll take his word for it. As long as he was okay.

The same couldn't be said for Muir.

Anxiety suddenly gripped him, and the heartbeats he could hear weren't helping. If this was his power from The Shape, then it was frankly shit. The excitement from everyone made him uneasy. There was no warning. The anxiety just came knocking on the door before kicking it down. Muir's mind began to race with ridiculous possibilities. What if the ship sank? What if the police are waiting for Caz to just shoot him? What if The Shape isn't really dead and it'll follow them to the mainland? What if he's taken away and he never gets to see Innes again?

Muir held his breath with a thousand yard stare. No one seemed to notice. Not even Innes, who came into the container with a backpack he left for his partner. All of Muir's eyes turned to him, yet his head stayed seated in the same position.

'Alright. That's all of your stuff.' Like everyone else, Innes was happy. 'Yes. I brought the bloody harmonica before you ask. But don't go playing it until we get ye home.' Muir didn't answer and continued to stare. His mind wouldn't shut up. Everyone's heartbeats drowned out whatever Innes said. It was an echo for him. Everything began to blur. Not because The Shape had suddenly returned, but because he was crying. Muir could finally allow himself to breathe again. Innes looked, and his smile dropped. 'Muir?' He felt a tendril wrap around his hand, and he instinctively began to stroke it with his thumb.

'Please don't go.'

Innes frowned. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Stay in here with me.' A pause. 'What if this doesn't work? And what if I'm taken away, never to be seen again?'

'I think that's impossible.'

'Innes, please!' Muir snapped as he began to tighten his grip on Innes and shook his head, because he couldn't run a hand through his hair anymore. 'I don't want to be on my own.'

Innes moved towards him and wiped Muir's tears away. Muir hugged and pulled him closer for him to rest his head on his shoulders. Of course, Innes allowed it and, in return, gave Muir a kiss. 'Alright... Alright, Muir. I'll stay, but we have to be quiet.' Muir nodded before buring his head into Innes.

The pair were so worked up in themselves that they didn't notice Gibbo, Trots, and Roy watching. None of them were surprised. They all suspected something for a while. I'm glad to see they had their confirmation.

Roy often wondered what that felt like. To love someone so near and dear in that way. He's loved friends and family, but nothing you could conclude to be romantic. His only real love outside of that would be football and cooking. He caught on that the three were just staring at this point and gave Gibbo and Trots a small tap.

'Right, you two, get in.'

With their belongings tucked away in the corner, Gibbo, being bigger of the pair, went first and soon settled by using his bag as a pillow. Trots soon followed and didn't exactly know what to do with himself. He had this coat pocket, but it was just awkward for him. Like Rennick, he felt like a rescue horse being led to a stable.

'Hope you don't mind me sharing with you, Gibs.'

'As long as there's no Cadal this or Cadal that.'

'Oh no, this has made it worse,' Roy laughed. 'But hey, if he gets bored, Animal Farm is in his bag.' It wasn't. Trots knew it wasn't. The comment got Gibbo laughing. Trots just smirked before using the tendrils to make himself taller before giving Roy a quick shove on the shoulder with a chuff.

'Off with ya, ya prick.'

'Seya on the other side, lads.'

Of course, the men weren't in complete darkness. Along with the sun coming through at the bottom of the door, Caz and Finlay made some adjustments to the containers, other than paint. A few holes for the natural light. No one thought about possible rain, though.

'Are you really going to use your infection to get a Union?' Gibbo asked out of curiosity.

'Of course,' Trots said. 'How can they say 'no' to this?'

'Ah Christ.' Maybe Gibbo should have taken Rennick as his container-mate. He made his stance known by grabbing Trot's bag and holding it over his head like a pillow trying to block out the noise.

'Right, you two Roasters,' Finlay said in her usual tone that commanded your attention. She was never scared to use it towards Rennick and Addair before, and them being infected didn't change that. The pair awkwardly stood in their own shared container. 'I better not hear a peep out of either of you.'

'I want off this rig, Finlay,' Rennick said in that tone when you're about to get an earful. 'Why the fuck, do you think I'm gonna be loud?!'

'Because you always have to get the last word.'

'Then give me my own container.'

'No. We take you in pairs. Muir's too big for anyone else.' Except Trots, but wanted to be with Gibbo. 'Now keep ye' voices down, or I'll come in there and ring both of ya necks.'

Was Rennick scared of Finaly? No. Was Addair scared of Finlay? Also, no. But, the pair had to admire her attitude, even if they didn't like being spoken to like this. She always carried herself with authority and had bigger balls than most of the men here. Even if she couldn't swim.

'Hey Finlay?' Addair called as she began to close the door. Finlay stopped and listened. 'Why did the military say no to you?'

'Because they don't take women. Is that why they refused you, Addair?'

With that, the door shut, and Finlay could finally feel her blood pressure return to normal. Faint snickering from Rennick could be heard through the metal, followed by a small smack. She spotted Roper and gave a thumbs up, who gave one in return.

Within minutes, the cargo ship docked beside them, and a man stepped off and onto the walkway that connected to the rig. Thankfully, the sea was calm this afternoon. Roper went to greet him.

'Are you Rennick?' He asked.

'No,' Roper said. 'We did a headcount. We lost him.'

'Didn't take a lifeboat?'

'Considering none of them worked, the answer's no.'

The man noticed the exhausted look in Roper's eyes. He was putting it on just so they could leave faster. They then noticed the amount of holes and smashed windows were on Beria. And this was only one part. Their eyes went wide and confused as they scanned the rig before looking to Roper for answers, who exchanged a look that said, 'I know.'

Nothing else needed to be said. The man gave a nod of approval. 'Oh, and we still have some equipment that Cadal will want back.'

'Will they?'

'Do you want to pay for anything we lose?' Seems Caz's sarcasm had finally rubbed off on Roper.

'Fair enough.' He turned and called to his crew. 'Get the crane going!'

And breathe.

Soon, the crew of Beria were safely secured on the cargo. The infected were all sat next to each other, but the equipment sat on top. So much for the holes to give them sunlight. Maybe they could see in the dark?

Caz found himself watching the containers from the safety of Bridge. He couldn't feel their presence from this distance, and it left him on edge. He hoped they were okay. Yes, even Rennick and Addair. He turned and, along with the others, watched the Beria slowly disappear from view.

'Good riddance.'

#Still Wakes the Deep #Still Wakes the Deep: Still Here AU #My Writing

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 2 days

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If I have to deal with brain rot about this absolutely awful man, so do y'all! Really looking forward to playing Dead Money so I can torture you with more.

Dean Domino (Fallout: New Vegas, Dead Money DLC) NSFW Headcanons

Is the King of Swing good in bed? Complicated question; he's too selfish to say that he is with any confidence. It depends on the day, frankly. He was a massive slut back in his prime, and he's perfectly well acquainted with how to show you a good time when the two of you are in bed together. Whether or not he cares enough in that moment to bother to make you cum is an entirely different matter. There are days he wants to show off, wants to hear you tell him how good he is, but there are also plenty of days where he'll happily use your body to jerk himself off and won't think for a second about your pleasure beyond what it'll do for him. On days like that, he wants you wet/stretched enough to take him, but that's all he cares about.

I've discussed this with folks a bit in replies on other posts, but I think it's very worth elaborating on: he would be so fun to dominate. He'd be the world's most petulant, bratty sub, and so confident that you wouldn't be able to break him, that he'll stay cool and in control of the situation, no problem. However, he's sorely mistaken. Dean Domino is a brat who was made to be broken. Tie his ass up and beat him a bit. Edge him until he literally cries. He insists he won't beg; prove him wrong. It's the sweetest sight you've ever taken in. I've never met a single character who needs to have his cock slapped like a million times more than him. And honestly, I think if you gave him the full routine and then treated him completely neutrally over the proceeding few days, as if nothing had even happened, he'd beg then, too, desperate to experience what you made him feel again...though not without a lot of petulant bitching first. How dare you act like you can drag him around by his prick, just because you absolutely can if you do it right...?!

Any ongoing relationship with Dean is going to be a constant power struggle. As insecure as he obviously is, he's forever rearing to "put you in your place" in a litany of ways; talking down to you, insulting you flippantly, all the nonsense you see from him when you interact with him in-game. If you don't push back at him (or show him where his place is, per the previous point), he will absolutely walk all over you, including sexually. Maybe that's what you're into. He doesn't really care all that much as long as he's getting whatever he wants out of you.

Biter. Always has been. Used to get a kick outta fucking actors and actresses and just covering them in bite marks and bruises that would be incredibly difficult to cover with makeup, because he likes attention and he's possessive, even of toys he doesn't particularly want to play with anymore.

Almost never takes off those goddamn sunglasses (because, in my mind, he thinks they make him harder to read...plus, he has super light-colored eyes, and once he's traveling the desert, he's constantly blinded by the sun), but one of the rare times you can guarantee he'll remove them is when you're giving him head. He wants to be able to see every detail of you worshiping him with your lips and tongue.

Obviously he's big into degradation, which is clear in the way he speaks to you, about you and others. He can, however, be persuaded to be rather sweet (though still entirely self-aggrandizing) when he's in a good mood. He'll tell you how gorgeous you look...on his cock. What a pretty voice you have...why don't you sing for him some more so he can hear how good he makes you feel? Every compliment also has to basically be a positive comment to himself, as well.

Leg and ass man. He makes some comments about Vera that hint at this, but he's not usually quite so tactful about it. Will openly grope you in public, both to embarrass you a bit and because he doesn't care enough to hold back when he feels like touching you.

Really enjoys a giving you a good cum facial. He finds it just the right mix of disgusting, dominating, and possessive. If he can find a way to force you to keep his cum on your face, he will. Even better if someone else sees you that way.

#dean domino #dean domino x courier six #dean domino x reader #fallout new vegas #fnv dead money #dead money

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pasaatimonarkin · 3 days

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No crying in the Burlesque club I part 5

Han Jisung x reader feat. OT8 Stray kids

Mafia!au

Warnings: cursing, guns, mentions of blood, sexual language, SMUT at the end [please skip the end if you are a minor or don't feel comfortable reading smut]

Words: 7,3k [aka long]

part 4

note: I haven't read this through yet so if there are spelling mistakes, I apologize.

Your eyes opened slowly. You hadn’t slept that well in a while and it felt like you never wanted to wake up. But your eyes quickly widened as you saw the scene in front of you. You were snuggled against Han’s bare chest, his arm circled around your waist. You dared to look up and there Han was, already staring down at you with a sleepy smile that made your heart flutter. "Good morning” He murmured, his voice gruff with the remnants of sleep.

"Morning," you replied, almost whispering. He gently stroked your hair with his good hand. "How'd you sleep?"

You sat up, cheeks flushing pink with the realization of what had happened the night before. You had been dreaming of this moment in secret. Hoping he would feel the same as you. "I slept... fine," you said, your voice a little shaky. "How's your shoulder?"

Han nodded, grimacing slightly as he moved his arm. "It'll be okay," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thanks to you."

You smiled but couldn't help but wonder if the kiss had been a mistake, if Han regretted it. If the kiss was just from the heat of the moment. You searched his expression, looking for any sign of discomfort or regret, but found none. Instead, his gaze was intense, as if he was trying to read your soul. The silence between you grew heavier, charged with unspoken words and unanswered questions.

It was like Han saw your uncertainty and took the lead. "I meant the kiss," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You have?" you whispered.

Han smirked, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards in a way that made your heart race. "Yeah," he said, his voice taking on a playful tone. "You didn't know?" He teased.

You felt a warm blush spread across her cheeks. You were never sure if his constant flirting was because of his personality or because he had set his eyes on you from the start. "I... I didn't," you stammered.

Han sat up and leaned in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, now you do," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "And I'd be more than happy to repeat it, if you'd like."

Your pulse quickened, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, closing your eyes as you felt his lips brush against yours. It was a gentle kiss, his hand slid down to the small of your back, pulling you closer. Without thinking you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

As you broke apart, Han smirked. "So, is this the part where you say you've always wanted to kiss me too?" His sarcasm was light, the tension in the room dissolving into a playful banter that felt both new and incredibly natural.

You thought about telling about your feelings but decided to take part in his play. "Maybe," you said, taking a small pause "But you're not getting off that easy. You owe me an apology for taking so long."

Han chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Oh, really?" He raised an eyebrow. "What's the going rate for a kiss these days?"

You smacked his chest lightly, trying to keep a straight face. "I'll think of something," you said, your voice laden with amusement.

Han's laughter was genuine, the kind that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. The sound of his laughter made you smile, you had never heard him laugh like that. Han leaned back on the pillows, his arm supporting his head as he watched you. "I'm all ears," he said, his tone playful.

Before you could come up with a suitable reply, a voice called Han from downstairs. It was Chan. The playfulness drained from the room as quickly as if someone had flipped a switch.

Your eyes grew wide with panic. "What do we do?" you whispered, your grip tightening on the sheets.

Han's expression turned serious, the playfulness vanishing like a ghost at daybreak. "I better go," he murmured, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Let’s talk more later"

You nodded, your heart racing. If Chan found out about what happened he would be angry. He had made it clear that you shouldn’t be a part of his world. And shared feelings could be turned against you.

"Han!" The voice called out again, more insistent this time.

Your eyes darted to the door, and you fell back on the bed "Chan can't know," you whispered urgently.

Han nodded, his gaze never leaving your "I know," he said, his voice low and steady. He knew the rules of this world better than you. And he also respected your brother for wanting to keep those.

Han stepped to your bathroom, and you heard him turn on the shower. When stepped back into the room, he had a towel on his shoulder and hair wet, making it look like he just came out of the shower. He checked if his black jeans were fine as he had slept with them on.

With a final nod, Han strode to the door, leaving your room. "Be right there! I was just in the shower” You heard him yell before closing the door behind him. His voice was casual, like nothing else had happened.

You smiled to yourself, thinking about the last two kisses you shared with Han. You couldn’t believe everything that had happened during the weeks you had been in Strays house. It also dawned on you whether you could actually have a relationship with Han, considering the life he had. Could you still keep your own lifestyle with the Burlesque club? And what happens if Chan finds out?

Your mind was once again storming with questions. With a sigh you raised up from the bed and went to the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would slow down your brain for a moment.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of tension and unspoken glances. You two moved through the house like two magnets, drawn to each other. You were too scared of Chan’s reaction that you decided to keep your distance.

The way you gazed each other made you have butterflies in your stomach every time. The feelings you had had about him felt to be increasing hour by hour. You couldn’t help but wander if Han shared the exact feelings too.

As night fell, you knew Han would be leaving the house soon, it was Tuesday. He, Changbin and Seungmin would be racing tonight and the others would be watching. You received a text from Han' "Meet me in my room”. The screen of your phone glowed like a tiny sun, illuminating your face in the darkened room. You quickly hopped off you bed and tiptoed down the stairs. When you reached Han's door, you took a deep breath and pushed it open. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, going through his phone. His outfit was all black like always: Black jeans with a t-shirt tucked into them and a leather jacket.

"I've got a race tonight," Han said without looking up. "I'm leaving soon."

"Can I come?" you asked, hope lacing your words.

Han's gaze finally met yours, and he smiled shortly before answering "You can't," he said firmly. "It's not safe."

You felt a pang of disappointment, but knew he was right. The underground street racing was fraught with danger, and you had no place there. "But I would like to see you race," you protested, voice a mix of desperation and longing.

Han sighed heavily. "I know," he said, his voice tight. "But you can't. I don't want to risk you getting hurt. I can’t keep my eye on you there”.

“I want to see what it’s like. What you guys do when you disappear on Tuesdays and Fridays” you tried to explain. "Besides you're hurt," you pointed at his shoulder. "I want to make sure you’re going to be alright”. You crossed your arms on your chest, trying to make yourself more believable.

Han stood up and with two steps he was standing right before you. “Lee Know is there to make sure my shoulder can handle it.” He took your hands in his and looked in your eyes. "Chan will be there, too. And if he sees you, he is going to be furious. He might not know about our feelings, but he knows we have been spending most of the days together. It’s going to seem like I brought you in the middle of danger in purpose”.

Your eyes stared back into his. It was true, he had been the one keeping eye on you for these past weeks which meant he sticked to your side like glue. And you also knew that Chan didn’t want you to be part of their world at all. Any day now he could be telling you to go back to your own apartment – surprisingly he hadn’t yet.

“Alright fine” you muttered, “But please explain what makes the races so dangerous?” you asked your voice going high, because you knew what the danger there was. Like usually you just couldn’t give up that easily.

Han smirked slightly “Oh I don’t know. You could say that the other mafia men with their guns and knives but I could be wrong” he sneered, voice full of sarcasm. Han gave your hands a gentle squeeze before letting go. "Jeongin is going to stay here. He'll keep you company," he said, his tone softer now.

You nodded, though you couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at being treated like you always needed babysitting. "Yeah," you said, trying to keep the edge out of your voice. "I know he stays to babysit me."

Han chuckled. "Is that what you think?" He reached out and gently tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. "Maybe Chan just doesn't want you to be lonely," he said, his tone teasing.

"Yeah, right," you said, rolling your eyes, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips because of his touch. The warmth of his fingers lingered on your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Well, good luck then," you said with a sigh.

Han leaned in, his face serious for a brief moment. “Thank you. And don’t do anything stupid. Alright?”

Before you could respond, he closed the space between you and kissed you again, this time with a gentle passion that took your breath away. When he pulled away, his eyes searched yours.

Your heart was racing. Yeah, you were totally going to do something stupid. "Okay," you whispered, a new idea forming in your mind. "I'll be waiting for you."

Han nodded; his expression unreadable. "I'll be back before you know it," he said, turning to grab his keys from the dresser.

You watched him, your mind racing. You wanted to go, you wanted to see what happens there and most importantly, you wanted to be with Han. "I'll be waiting," you repeated, trying to hide your intentions in your voice.

Han's eyebrow quirked at your words, but he didn't question them and moved to the door. "See you when I get back," he said, his hand on the doorknob.

You watched him go, your mind already planning a way to go with him. Once you knew that Han wasn’t inside the house anymore, you left his room to find Jeongin. You checked the living room and there he was, laying on the couch. You sighed before entering, trying to make your voice steady "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

Jeongin looked up from his phone, his eyes half-lidded. "What's up?"

You took a deep breath, heart racing with excitement and fear. "Could you keep a secret for me?" you asked.

Jeongin looked at you quizzically. "What kind of secret?"

"I want to go to the race," you said. "I want to see what it’s like."

Jeongin's gaze sharpened, and he sat up straighter. "You know it's not safe for you," he said, his voice firm.

You nodded and sat next to him. "I know, but I have to be there," you said, voice filled with a fierce determination that even you were surprised "Please, Jeongin”

Jeongin studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. He knew the risks of the streets, the danger that lurked in the shadows of the underground racing world. But he also knew what had happened between you and Han. See you were not the problem of gossip, but Han was. With a sigh, he nodded. "Okay," he said finally. "But only if you promise to stay safe."

Your eyes lit up with gratitude. "I promise," you said fervently. "Thank you, Jeongin."

He gave you a stern look. "If you get hurt, or if anything happens, it's on me," he warned. "And if Chan finds out, I’m dead meat and so is Han."

You nodded solemnly. "I know," you said, eyes shining with understanding. "I know how Chan would react”

Jeongin sighed, his gaze flickering with concern. "Okay," he said finally. "But you're going to have to be smart about it. Stay in the shadows, keep your head down."

You nodded eagerly, mind racing with the excitement of the plan. "I will," you promised. "Thank you, Jeongin."

Without wasting another second, you hurried up to the garage but stopped at the door to see if Han’s car was still in there. It was. Only his and Jeongin’s car remained, and you quickly made your way to Han’s car. Where should you hide? In the backseat? No, he will see me in there.

You heard steps and without thinking you popped the trunk open and climbed inside, closing it right after with a soft thud. Your heart was racing with a mix of excitement and fear. You could have just made up a huge mistake. The space was tight, filled with the scent of gasoline and leather. You curled into a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The darkness was complete, and you could feel the car shifting slightly as Han climbed into the driver's seat.

The engine roared to life, and the car lurched forward, sending your heart racing even more. You had never done anything so reckless, so dangerous before. Yet here you were, hiding in the trunk of a car that was about to race through the streets of Los Angeles, driven by the man you had kissed the first time just last night.

The drive was a blur of turns and acceleration, the vibrations of the car resonating through your bones. You could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The cold metal of the trunk pressed against your back. You had acted so fast that you couldn’t dress up properly as you were only wearing a white top and leggings- oh and no shoes.

When the car finally came to a stop, you waited with bated breath, listening for any sign of danger. The engine cut off, and the silence was deafening. You reached for the trunk release, hand shaking with anticipation. But it wouldn't budge. Panic began to set in as you realized you might be trapped. What if Han doesn’t look in the trunk? You couldn’t just start banging it or scream, someone else could hear.

You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself, reminding herself that Jeongin knew where you were, you could text him if you were there too long. But the thought didn't do much to ease the anxiety gripping your chest.

The minutes stretched into an eternity, the silence in the trunk broken only by the distant sound of car engines revving and the occasional shout of excitement. You could feel the vibrations of the car, the throb of the bass from the stereos of nearby vehicles, and the occasional jostle as people moved around the car. You heart hammered in your chest, the excitement turning into fear.

You felt Han – or at least you hoped it was him – to sit on the driver’s seat and start the car. As the car started moving again, you realized with a jolt that Han wasn't just driving to the race; he was going to race with you in the trunk. Your breath hitched, and you braced yourself against the cold metal, knuckles turning white. The car picked up speed and the engine growled

The race had begun.

You felt the car come alive beneath you, the engine roaring like a beast unleashed from its cage. The sudden jolt of acceleration pushed your back against the trunk, your breath leaving you in a rush. Your heart hammered in your chest. You had never been this scared since the first might you were brought to Strays’ house when you were on Changbin’s motorcycle.

The car took a sharp turn, and you slammed against the side of the trunk. You bit your lip to keep a surprised scream leave your lips. Your eyes squeezed shut as the world outside tilted and swayed. The smell of gasoline grew stronger, mixing with the scent of rain-soaked streets and the faint hint of fear that clung to the air.

The car jolted as it hit a pothole, and you heard the squeal of tires as Han corrected the course. The engine roared in protest, and you felt the car shift gears. The reality of your situation began to set in. You were in the trunk of a car, hurtling through the streets of Los Angeles, with no way out. If you crashed, you would be trapped and probably dead.

And then, suddenly, it was over. The car came to a stop, the engine's roar fading to a purr. The world outside was quiet once more and you heard Han stepping out of the car. You waited, your breath shallow, listening for any sign of Han's return. You could hear the distant murmur of the crowd, the crackling of a radio, and the occasional clang of tools. The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline lingered in the air.

The moments dragged on, and then you heard it: Han's voice, low and steady, speaking to someone outside the car. "The first round went well." you heard the other voice say.

You heart plummeted. There were more rounds? The thought of being trapped in here, unable to move or breathe, while the car roared through the streets again was almost too much to bear. Panic set in, your breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps.

But then the lid of the trunk creaked open, a wash of cool, damp air filled the space. Han's face appeared; his eyes widened at sight of you in the trunk. "Y/n?" he barked, his eyes wide with shock. "What the hell are you doing in there?"

You voice was small and shaky. "I wanted to see," you said, voice barely audible over the clamor of the race. "I wanted to know what happens in these kinds of races."

Han's expression was a mix of shock and concern. "You could've gotten hurt," he said. His hand paused midair as if unsure of what to do next.

"I know," You whispered, her voice shaking slightly. "But I'm okay"

Han stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, with a sigh, he offered his hand and helped you out of the cramped space.

"I don't know whether to be angry or impressed," he said finally, his voice a low growl that you could feel in her chest. His hand remained wrapped around yours, his grip firm but gentle.

You looked up at him. "I'm sorry," you began, but Han cut you off with a shake of his head.

"Don't be," he said, his voice gruff. "But you can't do that again." His eyes looking at yours, looking for any signs of injury or distress. "You could’ve been hurt. Badly"

You nodded, feeling the nausea from the race finally dissipate in the fresh air. "I'm okay," you assured him, voice still trembling. "I won't do it again. Being in the trunk was...terrifying."

Han's expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're one brave little thing, aren't you?" he teased, shaking his head in disbelief. Despite the danger, his voice was gentle.

"Or just a little crazy," you retorted, cheeks flushing at his words.

Han chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Crazy enough to hide in a trunk during a race," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and concern. He squeezed your hand gently. "Come on, let's get you inside before you catch a cold."

You stepped into the garage, the bright lights assaulting your eyes after the darkness of the trunk. The space was filled with the sounds of mechanics working on cars, the smell of oil and gasoline thick in the air. Han led you to a quieter corner, behind a big tower of tires, his hand still wrapped around yours, protective and warm. "You can wait here," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Stay out of sight, okay? Don’t let anyone, especially Chan see you"

You nodded and he took steps backwards to leave the corner but suddenly stopped. He took off his leather jacket and handed it to you. “Put this on, you’re shivering” he whispered. You took the jacket and with a nod, Han walked away. You hadn’t even realized you were shivering, mostly from the adrenaline than cold but appreciated Han’s thought and put his jacket on. It was warm and smelled just like him.

There was a small hole in the corner of the garage. Through it, you could see the tail end of the races, the cars zooming by in a blur of lights and color. Your eyes searched the track, trying to find Han among the other racers. Your heart leaped in your chest when you finally spotted his car. You watched as he took turn after turn with skill, the tires screeching in protest against the wet asphalt.

The races ended with a flurry of activity, the air thick with the scent of victory and defeat. The engines wound down, the shouts of the crowd echoing through the garage. The other drivers began to file back. And then, finally, Han's car pulled into the garage, the headlights blinding you momentarily before they flickered off. You watched as he climbed out, his eyes scanning the area before landing on you.

"So, what did you think?" he asked, his voice gruff as he walked to you. There was a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"I had no idea it was like this. I thought it would be messier”

Han chuckled, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of the race. “Yeah, it can be”

Before you could say more, the sound of booted footsteps echoed through the garage, and a familiar voice called out, "Han!" You recognized Chan’s voice immediately. You heart skipped a beat, and you stepped back further into the shadows.

"Go sit in the car," Han murmured urgently, his eyes darting towards the open garage door. "Lock the doors. I'll be out soon."

You nodded and didn't have to be told twice. You slipped away from the shadows of the garage and move to the car. You slid into the passenger seat. The scent of Han lingered in the air. With trembling hands, you locked the doors, the click echoing in the quiet of the garage. You watched as Han's silhouette grew smaller as he moved towards the other drivers, his shoulders squared, and his head held high. He was in his element like a king in the land of speed and danger.

You settled into the seat and took a deep breath. You tried to get comfortable, adjusting your position to alleviate the ache in your legs. The garage outside grew quieter as the racers dispersed, their engines fading into the distance. The hum of distant traffic became the only sound, a lullaby to the city that never truly slept. The adrenaline from the race began to wear off, leaving you feeling drained and vulnerable. Your eyes grew heavy, and you felt like you could just fall asleep.

But just as you were about to drift off, the sound of the locks opening jolted you awake. You sat up with a gasp, heart hammering in her chest as the driver's side door creaked open.

"It's just me," Han said gently as he slid to the driver’s seat and closed the door behind him. You sighed in relief.

“So, now you saw what we are doing for two days of the week. Was it as interesting as you thought?” Han asked with a smirk as he started the car.

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know what I expected”

“Gun fights, crashes, blood, hot chicks? Nah, we race for real” Han said half-mockingly and half serious, eyes fixating on the road ahead.

You felt kind of embarrassed for doing all that just to see that it was only a job for them. You looked through the window as Han was driving through the dark streets. Han placed his hand over yours and your head shot back at him. “I have to admit it was nice to know that you were watching me there” He smiled, drawing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand, “and I also have to admit that you look pretty sexy with my jacket on” he winked. You smiled back at him before laying back on the seat and closing your eyes. The warmth of the car made you sleepy and you decided not to fight it. As you were drifting to sleep, you felt Han’s hand on yours the whole time.

"Ready for the grand finale?" Coco's sultry voice echoed through the dimly lit dressing room, a question directed at the mirror as much as it was to you, Cherry and Lucky. Her eyes, sparkled with excitement as she applied a final coat of crimson lipstick.

You sat quietly in the corner and stared at Coco. You had to watch her flirt and give herself to Han even after you made it clear to her that Han was not available. Han turned down all Coco’s requests and said that he was not interested. For some reason Coco just didn’t give up, like she was determined to get Han to herself.

Cherry and Lucky were looking at Coco with the same feeling. You told them about you and Han and god you didn’t hear the end of ‘I told you so’s. They were as surprised as you that Coco was so bold and didn’t care if Han had someone or not.

The music grew louder, a seductive rhythm that seemed to pulse through the very walls of the club. A hush fell over the crowd, meaning the next performance was about to start. Your and Lucky’s shows were done, Coco’s and Cherry’s remaining. Coco turned to you with a wink. "Showtime, darlings."

You felt your heart clench in your chest as Coco sashayed out of the room, the sound of her heels fading as she went. It irritated even more as you knew how she would be acting on stage: trying to seduce Han as always. You hated being jealous and didn’t want to feel that way. But it was all so knew with Han still. You weren’t sure if you two were together together and if Coco could play her way to Han’s liking.

“You should go sit with Han, make his interest set on you. That will make Coco go nuts on the stage” Lucky winked at you.

“I don’t want it to seem like I’m using him to get back on her” you murmured.

“And you’re not. If you really want to be with the guy, show it. And make him show you that he doesn’t give seven shades of shit about Coco” Cherry said sternly but still smiled at you.

You thought about it and with a deep breath, you stood up and smoothed out your short, black dress. “Alright” you nodded, channeling the confidence you had seen in Coco's eyes, and made your way through the hallway. The air was hot and thick with the scent of hairspray and sweat. Emerging into the dim light of the side stage, you searched the sea of faces for Han. His gaze was on the stage where Coco was already swinging her hips to the music.

Ignoring the flutter of nerves in your stomach, you made your way through the packed audience. You reached had and without a word, you slipped into the empty chair beside him, your hand brushing against his. Han startled slightly, looking down at your intertwined fingers before meeting your eyes.

The music grew more intense, the spotlight moving to Coco as she continued her grand finale. You felt the heat of the lights on your skin as you watched Han watch Coco’s performance. His face was blank, not showing any reaction whatsoever but his eyes never left Coco

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the tension was palpable. Coco's movements were a tease, each gesture calculated to provoke a reaction. The anger bubbled up inside of you, a potent cocktail of jealousy and frustration. You had never felt possessive before, but the sight of Han’s attention on Coco stirred something primal. Your eyes narrowed, the corners of your mouth turning down in a scowl as you observed the way Coco's hips swayed and her smile grew brighter with every seductive move. It was clear she was enjoying the effect she had on the audience.

Han was observant and sensed the shift in your demeanor. His eyes darted from the stage to your tightly drawn face, noticing the tension in your shoulders and the way your grip on his hand had tightened. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur against your ear. "You okay?" he asked, genuine concern lacing his words.

You took a deep breath and turned to look at him. “It’s just..I-“ you trailed off, unable to describe the feeling you had, you were irritated, frustrated, jealous..

"You're pissed," Han said, his voice gentle as he squeezed their hand.

You nodded, “yeah” you huffed. “It just seems like she is finding her way to carve into you” you admitted.

Han chuckled, the sound low and warm. "You're adorable when you're jealous," he teased, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand. His eyes held a mischievous glint, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the annoyance from your voice. "I'm not jealous," you protested weakly, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

Han's grin only widened. "Sure, you're not," he said, his tone teasing as he stood up and tugged on your hand, motioning you to get up and follow him.

As you walked away, Coco's eyes followed you two, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. You looked at her and saw her annoyance that Han was leaving in the middle of her performance. You couldn't help but sneer at Coco.

Han pulled you to the big bathroom and leaned against the sink, his arms folded across his chest. "So, you are jealous?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

You avoided his gaze, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “It’s not that” you mumbled.

Han leaned closer; his breath warm against your face. "Then what is it?" he whispered, his eyes dancing with amusement.

You looked up at him, the anger in your eyes slowly giving way to something softer. "It's just... she's got you all worked up, and... " You paused, trying to find the right words. "I’m annoyed by that”

Han's smile grew into a full-blown grin. "So, you're more than just a little jealous," he whispered, his voice dropping to a playful growl.

You swatted at him, trying to keep the irritation from your voice. "I'm not jealous,"

"Really? Then why don't you tell me what you're feeling?" His eyes searched yours, the playfulness in his tone belying the seriousness of his question.

You felt the weight of his gaze and knew you couldn't keep it in any longer. “I already told you” you said quietly.

Han cupped your face with his warm, calloused hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones gently. "You know I don't care about Coco, right?" Han's voice was steady, his gaze unwavering.

Your eyes searched his, looking for any hint of dishonesty. "But it seemed like you like watching her" you accused, voice barely above a whisper, knowing you sounded stupid and jealous.

“I only enjoy your shows, Y/n," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that sent shivers down your spine. Before you could respond, Han's lips found yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a declaration, a promise, a silent reassurance that Coco's performance meant nothing to him compared to the connection he shared with you. His hands cradled your face, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your body responding instinctively to Han's touch. You melted into the kiss, feeling the anger and tension drain away as if it had never been there. Han's kiss grew more insistent, his hands moving from your face to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer. His tongue danced with yours and you wrapped your arms wound around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

When you finally broke apart, you both were breathless. "You're mine," Han murmured, his voice gruff with want. "Always." Your breath hitched, the possessiveness in his words sending a thrill through you. You leaned into him, feeling his chest against your own and the steady beat of his heart. "Then show me," you whispered, like you weren’t sure if you wanted him to hear you, but he did.

Han's eyes darkened, and without another word, he took your hand and led you back through the crowded club.

He opened the door to a small, private dressing room next to the one where you usually spent time. This was the one Coco always used, needing to have her own room. Han pulled you inside. The room was a whirlwind of feathers and fabric, the scent of Coco's perfume lingering faintly in the air. Youfelt a pang of irritation, but Han's presence washed it away. He locked the door behind you.

Turning to face you, Han's eyes were filled with a fierce intensity that made your heart race. He stepped closer, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb traced the line of your jaw. "Tell me if you want me to stop” he whispered.

You felt the passion in his touch. The anger and jealousy inside them had transformed into something desperate. You nodded.

With a gentle tug, Han turned you to face the mirror. His hands slid down your neck, tracing the collarbone before coming to rest on the zipper of your dress. Slowly, deliberately, he began to pull it down, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. Your breath hitched as the fabric fell away, exposing your bare skin to the cool air.

The music from the main stage grew louder and the sound of applause and cheers for Coco, but you couldn’t concentrate on anything else than Han’s eyes. You watched in the mirror as he stepped closer, his chest brushing against your bare back. His hands continued their descent, his fingers grazing the softness of your skin as he pushed the dress down further.

The fabric pooled at your waist, revealing the black lace of your lingerie. He reached to unclasp the bra, his movements sure and practiced. The material fell away. He cupped your gently, his thumbs brushing over the hardened nipples, eliciting a soft moan from you. You could feel the heat of his arousal pressing against your back, the evidence of his desire as undeniable as the passion in his eyes.

There were butterflies in your stomach the whole time. It was all so new, the touching and the desire you felt. You turned around to face him. Your hands found his belt. You wanted him, needed him, more than you had ever wanted anything. The sound of the zipper lowering was like a gunshot in the quiet room, the tension between them palpable. Han's hand covered yours, stilling your movements. He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered, "Let me." You nodded as he unbuckled the belt and let his jeans fall on the floor.

Han's hands moved with purpose, the fabric of your dress sliding down your body until it was at yourr feet. You stepped out of it, legs trembling slightly. He took a step back, his eyes roving over you, taking in the sight of your nakedness. You felt exposed, vulnerable and wanted to cover yourself. But Han was quick and reached out to your hands, “Don’t, you look beautiful” he assured. Your cheeks flushed with warmth at his words, and you let your hands fall down to your sides.

Without another word, he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest. Han's hand found the curve of your waist, pulling you closer and placing his lips on yours. His kiss sent a thrill through every nerve ending of yours. You moaned into his mouth; the sound muffled by his eager lips.

As you kissed, Han's hand trailed down to the juncture of your thighs, his fingers finding the dampness that had been building. He teased you through the lace of your panties, the fabric already soaked with desire. Your legs trembled, and you had to lean against the makeup table to stay upright. The anticipation was unbearable, a delicious torment that made you ache for more.

With a low growl, Han hoisted you onto the table, your legs wrapping around his waist. The coolness of the countertop sent a jolt of pleasure through you. His hand found its way under the lace, his thumb circling your clit with a gentle but insistent pressure. You moaned, your head falling back as sensation overwhelmed you.

Han's other hand snaked up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking the sensitive peak as he continued to kiss you deeply. Your hips rocked against him, seeking more, needing more. He chuckled, against your skin as he bit gently at your neck. "So eager," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

He slid your panties aside, his finger slipping inside, stroking them with a slow, purposeful rhythm that had your eyes rolling back in your head. “Han” you moaned his name, the sound a desperate plea that he was all too happy to answer. His movements grew more urgent.

Your kisses grew sloppy with desire. Your nails dug into his back, urging him closer, deeper. You could feel the tension coiling in your stomach, the delicious pressure building with every stroke. You had never felt this good.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, your body begging for release. You didn’t care if anyone heard you. With a final, desperate cry, you shattered, your climax crashing over you like a wave. Han's name was a litany on your lips as you rode the waves of pleasure, your body trembling uncontrollably. He held you through it, his fingers never stopping their sweet torment until your breathing evened out and your eyes focused on his once more.

Satisfaction and love shone in Han's gaze as he kissed you gently, his hand still buried between their legs, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. "That's just the appetizer," he murmured. “Unless you want me to stop”

You shook your head frantically and Han smirked. He stepped back, allowing you to catch your breath, and pulled you down from the table and stood on your shaky legs. The air was thick with anticipation as Han stood, his arousal pressing against his boxers. Your breath came in shallow gasps as you watched him reveal himself.

He stepped out of his own clothing, leaving you both bare in the soft glow of the room. Your eyes roamed over Han's body, admiring the way the light played over his muscles.

You reached out, fingertips brushing against his erection, and he hissed in a breath. The contact was like a spark, igniting the flames of passion once again. Han's hand shot out, grasping your wrist, and he leaned in, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of their neck. "Not yet," he whispered, his voice a dark rumble.

Guiding you to the velvet couch in the corner, Han pushed you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours. He laid down between your legs, his erection pressing on your thigh.

Han leaned down, capturing your mouth in a fiery kiss that left you toes curling. His hands roamed over your body, leaving a trail of fire. He took his time, savoring every inch of your skin as if it were

the sweetest dessert. His thumb found your clit again, his touch feather-light, teasing you back to the brink of madness.

Your hips bucked, desperate for more, and Han chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through your body. "Patience," he murmured, his eyes dark with lust.

Anticipation was exquisite. You reached down, your hand shaking slightly as you wrapped it around his cock, feeling the pulse of his desire against your palm.

Han groaned, his eyes falling closed for a brief moment before snapping open again. The fire in his gaze was intense. You stroked him slowly, savoring the feeling of his skin against yours. His hips rolled into your touch, his breathing growing harsher with every stroke.

With a growl, Han took control, pushing your hand away and positioning himself at your entrance. He paused, locking his eyes with yours. You nodded, the silent consent all he needed.

He slid into you with a slow, deliberate movement that had your eyes rolling back in your head. The stretch was heavenly, filling you completely, erasing any doubt or jealousy that had been there before. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel every inch of him. Han's eyes never left yours as he began to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm.

Your hands roamed over his chest, nails scraping lightly over his skin as you moaned his name.

The sound of your lovemaking filled the room. Han's movements grew more urgent, his strokes deeper. You could feel the beginnings of another climax building, your body tightening around him.

Your breath grew ragged, your body moving in time with Han's, your hips rising to meet his every thrust. The feeling was indescribable, a whirlwind of pleasure. You felt your orgasm building, a tight coil of sensation in your core that grew tighter with every stroke.

Han's hands found yours, fingers lacing together. You could feel your walls tightening around him, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the scream that threatened to escape as Han's thumb found your clit once more, applying just the right amount of pressure. With a final, powerful thrust, your orgasm hit you ike a tidal wave, crashing over you and leaving you gasping for air. Han groaned, his own climax following closely behind, his body shuddering with the force of it. You clung to each other, lost in the moment, as the waves of pleasure ebbed and flowed between you.

As you came down from your high, Han collapsed onto you, his weight a comforting warmth. You laid there, your breath mingling, hearts beating in sync. The room was quiet, only the club’s music could be heard behind the door.

Your mind was racing with the realization of what just happened. You stroked Han's hair, feeling the dampness of his sweat, the softness of his skin.

"Are you still jealous?" Han's voice was a gentle rumble, his question a soft caress against your ear.

You shook your head, smiling softly. "never heard of her," you murmured.

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