#but when i came back up he was facing the corner

[mirohlayo]

F1 DRIVERS AND YOU (their crush)

KISSING THEIR CHEEKS

( include piastri, norris, leclerc, sainz, hamilton, russel, verstappen & ricciardo )

warning : none just fluff

note : little nod to max's 4th championship win, congrats to him, sooo proud !!

─ OSCAR PIASTRI

I know for sure boy was blushing so so hard. But it's absolutely adorable and cute. Oscar is very patient with you, and even though he dreams of being able to touch you in a more than friendly way, of being able to at least have the right to a little kiss, he restrains himself and tries not to act under his impulses. . However, when you decided to quickly kiss him on the cheek, out of nowhere, he actually felt himself melting from the inside. His cheeks have never blushed so much, and his heart has never beaten so quickly.

─ LANDO NORRIS

Ugh, you guys can barely hold eye contact, but he's already so in love. So mad in love even. Despite the fact that you are still shy, especially him, that you struggle to make eye contact without blushing afterwards, Lando can't help but ask for more. Just a little extra. So, when he walked you to your doorstep, he immediately asked you if he could have even a mini kiss. Your lips naturally landed on his cheek, brushing against it, almost like a ghost kiss. And when you pulled back oh... He was already touching the place where your lips rested, cheeks as pink as yours.

─ CHARLES LECLERC

This was absolutely surprising to Charles. But he would love to be able to feel that feeling again. When your lips pressed naturally against his cheek, your hands framing his face perfectly. He didn't move for at least a good two minutes, trying to figure out what just happened. If it was real. He was so shocked that he didn't see you lean in again to place another sweet kiss. He blinked a few times, and you could only giggle silently. Oh, it was the best day of his without a doubt. And if he could live it again, he wouldn't hesitate for a single second before saying yes.

─ CARLOS SAINZ

He only had eyes for you. And he loved seeing you smile, and making you happy. So from time to time he spoils you, and although you don't like it when he buys so many things for you, you always end up thanking him warmly because after all, it's adorable. You always hugged him, hugging him a little tighter each time, but this time it was different. You wanted a change from hugs, so with a surge of courage and love you gently kissed his cheek to thank him. He was dizzy, almost on the verge of passing out. He couldn't hold back a shy smile, and above all he couldn't settle for a hug from now on.

─ LEWIS HAMILTON

He waited there patiently, sitting in a corner of the garage before getting in his car. You were a few feet away from him, watching the mechanics adjust the final modifications to the car. He couldn't help but admire you. And stare at your lips. God, he would give anything to be able to feel them against his skin. And as he was about to get in the car, he stopped when he felt your arm rest on his forearm. And without knowing how, your lips crashed onto his cheek in a quick kiss. His best smile appeared on his face, as he tried to hide his blush by putting on his helmet. Finally, his wish came true, right?

─ GEORGE RUSSEL

He can't stop replaying the scene in his head. He already found you so perfect, so beautiful and incredibly intelligent. It wasn't just a crush anymore, it was George, a simp for you. But already his heart was speeding up just by looking at you, he really thought it was going to stop beating when you gently kissed him on his cheeks. It was pure, sweet and... terribly affectionate. He tried to appear as normal as possible, but inside he was a mess. His whole body was telling him to kiss you and tell you everything he has in his heart right now. And he's sure that day will come soon, because there's no way another day will pass without a kiss from you.

─ MAX VERSTAPPEN

As the race draws to a close, Max is finally a 4th time F1 world champion. And getting out of his car, as he proudly waves his arm to greet the crowd, only one thing is on his mind. You, you and only you. So it was natural that he found you among the crowd, looking at you as if only you existed in the world. His hair was still damp, his face still covered in drops of sweat, but that absolutely didn't stop you from pressing your soft lips against his cheek, for a long time. Passionately. And oh, that sweet gesture was better than any championship. His eyes spoke for themselves.

─ DANIEL RICCIARDIO

He will never, ever stop teasing you about the kiss you gave him. Quite simply because he loves seeing you smile and laugh, but above all because he secretly wants you to repeat this gesture over and over again, for eternity. Honestly, you wouldn't even have to ask him for permission as he will already be ready to receive another kiss from you on the cheek. It was by far the most beautiful experience of his life, and oh, his heart always asks for more when he sees you. So, he hopes to feel your lips on his skin again, even if it costs him to tease you all day long.

[gayeddieagenda]

❤️ 🎵 Number 9 if you’re still doing the prompts? thank you!! I hope you’re having a good day!

another scene prompt game! - 9: listening to the other’s heartbeat + ❤️ 🎵

--

“Huh,” Buck says.

Eddie knocks his ankle against Buck’s. “What?”

“I’m not trying to freak you out,” Buck says. He has his serious face on and that, more than anything, makes Eddie squint at him, suspicious. “When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “I had a checkup a month ago, jackass.”

“Texas doctors?” Buck says skeptically. Eddie huffs at him. Buck adjusts his grip on Eddie’s arm, pressing his index and middle fingers more firmly into Eddie’s wrist. “It’s probably nothing. It’s just, I can’t find your pulse.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, Buck!”

“I’m being serious!” Buck tries another spot on Eddie’s wrist, then another, shaking his head both times: nothing. “You should definitely have a pulse.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, deadpan. “What if I’m already dead?”

Six months. Eddie waited six months to see Buck in person again. Buck had made a noise like a dying animal on the phone, when they realized that he was going to be in the first hour of a 48-hour shift when Eddie and Chris got in from Texas.

Then, when Bobby asked if Eddie wanted to be scheduled for the last 24 hours of the same shift or wait four more days until his first shift back, Eddie signed on for the earlier shift without thinking twice about it. It meant not waiting a second longer to be back where he belongs—at the 118, on the job. It also meant this: seeing Buck for the first time since…since Texas, since everything, surrounded by all their coworkers.

“Don’t worry,” Buck says. “I have something else I can try.”

Buck releases Eddie’s hand. Eddie draws his arm back to his body, unconsciously reaching his other hand up to grip his wrist where Buck’s hand had been holding him a second ago.

Buck gestures at Eddie’s neck. “Can I—”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t want to say it,” Buck said. His voice was low and frustrated through the phone. “Not like this.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, feeling furious, feeling lightheaded. Feeling alone, in a silent Texas house three sizes too big for him. “This is it. I’m here. You’re there. If you’re pissed at me, I’d rather you just tell me.”

Buck reaches for the collar of Eddie’s turnouts. He peels back the velcro strip covering the neck, then undoes the top snaps—one, two, three. He hooks two fingers of one hand on Eddie’s chin, tilting his head back. Sets two fingers of his other hand on Eddie’s neck, just below his jaw, in the divot just behind his trachea, just in front of the muscle.

It’s stupid. Eddie’s fine. He fell down, that’s all. He was rounding a corner to get back to the engine when a kid came sprinting around the other side, running at full force. She ran headfirst into his stomach and they both went sprawling on the grass. Buck caught up to them first, checking over the kid and giving her a sticker after telling her she should consider a career in wrestling. Eddie pushed himself up from the ground, angling to sneak back to the engine and drop off his gear. Buck caught his arm, giving him a where do you think you’re going? look.

So, now they’re here. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, parked in South Pasadena at two in the morning, Chimney’s classic rock radio station still playing quietly from the front seats. The kitchen fire that called them out was put out half an hour ago, but when the upstairs neighbor cracked his door to figure out what had brought a fire truck to his driveway, his cat bolted. Chim spotted her up a tree in the backyard—literally, a cat stuck in a tree. It doesn’t get much more stereotypical than that.

Chimney’s got it handled, apparently, though it’s been twenty minutes and he and the cat are both still in the tree. Eventually, he’s going to get the cat down or some new emergency will materialize from nothing and someone will come looking for Buck and Eddie—but for now, for a minute, they’re alone.

The pads of Buck’s fingers are gentle on the side of Eddie’s neck. His hands are warm. Buck presses in, just enough pressure on Eddie’s throat for him to feel it.

He’s looking Eddie in the eye while he touches him. Eddie looks back. He takes in a slow breath, feeling his throat expand under Buck’s hand. Watches Buck blink back at him. They’re so close like this, Eddie can see where Buck missed a spot shaving just below his sideburns, where Buck’s hair dried flat to his head when he had to pull on his helmet straight out of the shower. He can see where his eyes are crinkling at the corners, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“Nope,” Buck says. “Still nothing.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says dryly. “Do you need to start CPR?”

“I’m sure I can think of something else before it comes to that.”

“I’m not taking off my pants for you to check my femoral.”

“I wasn’t going to do that, Eddie. We’re at work.”

Buck takes his hand off Eddie’s neck. Eddie misses it immediately.

He backs up a little, as far as he can get in the cramped quarters of the ambulance. He rests his hands on his hips, giving Eddie an assessing look.

“I’m not pissed at you,” Buck said, voice low. “That’s why I don’t want to have this conversation now.”

“When do you want to have it?” Eddie asked. He’s angry, and he’s picking a fight, and he can’t stop himself, when this is how he gets to talk to Buck now: in broken halves of conversations, eight hundred miles away. “When you visit in six months? When Chris graduates high school in four years?”

“Come on,” Buck said. “That’s not fair.”

“Then tell me why you’re mad at me.”

“Would you like my opinion?” Eddie asks.

“Pretty sure I’m the firefighter here, thanks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Didn’t realize.”

“Here,” Buck says.

His hands are back on Eddie’s jacket, undoing the rest of the snaps and opening his jacket. He hooks a hand in Eddie’s suspenders, pulling lightly at them, adjusting Eddie until he’s sitting on the edge of the gurney, knees between Buck’s legs. Eddie goes easily.

Buck places a hand on Eddie’s chest, above his heart.

They’re at work, Eddie reminds himself. It’s two in the morning and it’s Pasadena, it’s the distant sound of Chimney going here, kitty-kitty, and the low hum of the radio.

Buck glances at the ambulance doors. They left them open a crack, but all they can see through the gap is the empty street, cast in yellow and red from the streetlamps and the fire engine lights. No one’s looking for them.

Buck turns back to Eddie. He leans in in one movement, replacing his hand with his ear to Eddie’s chest.

It’s awkward, kind of. The ambulance isn’t exactly roomy and Buck is folded in at a weird angle to get his face to Eddie’s chest. Eddie knows he still smells like the kitchen fire, like smoke and burnt fish and sweat. Any second, someone’s going to realize they disappeared and come barging through the ambulance doors and into this, into the tableau that is Buck leaning on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie breathes, chest rising and falling. Buck moves with it.

He was scared to see Buck again. He can admit that now, with Buck in front of him, the way he couldn’t when he was still in El Paso.

There’s a conversation they’ve been waiting to have. They started it a month ago, on the phone, Buck in his loft and Eddie in the kitchen of his rented house in El Paso. By now, Eddie’s pretty sure he’s figured out where this conversation is going to end. He knows he’s not going to find out here, in the back of an ambulance in Pasadena.

They decided, by mutual agreement, that they wouldn’t touch it until after the shift. They kept their word. Instead, Buck’s been doing…this. Messing with Eddie. Sticking close to him. Touching him, under the barest pretense of medical necessity.

It—this, them—has been an idea in Eddie’s head for so long that he started to lose track of what it was, exactly, that he was waiting for. It doesn’t feel real, that Buck could say something on the phone and a month later Eddie could be in Los Angeles again, cashing checks they wrote when they were eight hundred miles apart.

“I’m not angry with you, Eddie,” Buck said, low, into a phone speaker in Los Angeles. Into Eddie’s ear, in an empty room in El Paso. “I’m in love with you.”

Buck’s head resting on Eddie’s chest is real.

It’s right here. It’s the easiest thing in the world, for Eddie to put his hand on the back of Buck’s neck, where the soft ends of his hair curl. For him to breathe in, slow, and feel the weight of Buck leaning on him.

“Yeah,” Buck says finally. His voice is quiet in the back of his throat. Eddie can feel it in his chest. “Found it.”

[goldfades]

CINDERELLA───JOE BURROW

request: "Reader is going out with girlies and dressed sexy that joe almost got mad at reader cuz he doesn’t want reader going out with that dress and suddenly obsessed with boobies and told reader they cant breath in that dress" for @crispppykreme

The dress wasn’t new, but it might as well have been, given how long it had languished at the back of your closet. A slinky little thing, sleek black with a neckline that danced on the edge of scandal and just enough shimmer to catch the light in all the right places. It was the kind of dress that didn’t just suggest confidence—it demanded it.

You were proud of how you looked, admiring yourself in the full-length mirror, twisting slightly to check every angle. The effort had paid off: hair done, makeup sharp, heels that made your legs look miles long. Tonight was about the girlies, a rare night out that wasn’t dinner and wine but cocktails and dancing, the kind of carefree, late-night escapades you hadn’t had in months.

Joe had been fine about it earlier, or at least you thought he had. There was an absentminded “Have fun, baby,” thrown your way when you’d mentioned your plans this morning. But now, as his eyes scanned you from head to toe like he was taking inventory, you could feel the tension radiating off him from across the room.

“You’re really wearing that?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an edge that made you freeze mid-reach for your clutch. You turned slowly, eyebrow raised, trying to read the expression on his face.

“Uh, yeah? What’s wrong with it?” You kept your tone light, playful, even though the way he was looking at you made your skin prickle. Joe wasn’t one to throw around his opinions about your outfits, and honestly, you appreciated that about him. He knew you had your own style, your own vibe. But tonight? Something about tonight had apparently made him forget that.

He stepped closer, his hand running down his face as he let out a slow, deliberate sigh. “It’s not that it’s bad. It’s just…” His gaze dropped to your chest, and he gestured vaguely in that direction. “That dress. I mean, are you sure it’s comfortable? They—uh, you—don’t look like you can even breathe in it.”

For a second, you just blinked at him, your brain scrambling to catch up. Then it hit you, and the corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself.

“Oh,” you said, the teasing lilt unmistakable. “That’s what this is about.”

Joe crossed his arms, clearly trying to play it cool, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I’m just saying. It’s kind of… tight, don’t you think?”

You couldn't stop the grin spreading across your face, even as Joe tried—and failed—to keep his cool. He was too easy to read, the faint crease between his brows giving him away completely.

“Oh, come on,” you teased, grabbing your clutch and turning back toward the mirror. “You’ve seen me wear tighter.”

“That’s not the point,” he shot back, his voice firmer now, enough to make you glance at him in the mirror. He was standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe like some kind of judgmental Greek statue, all broad shoulders and furrowed brows.

“Then what is the point, Joe?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m getting the vibe that it’s not about how tight this dress is.”

He huffed, running a hand through his hair in that way he always did when he was trying to sort through his words. “The point is,” he said slowly, “you’re going out looking like… like that. And I know exactly how guys are gonna act when they see you.”

You turned around now, giving him your full attention. “Guys? Plural? Is that what this is about?”

“It’s not about guys,” he said quickly, but the words came out too rushed, too defensive. He shifted his weight, unfolding his arms, clearly trying to walk the line between annoyed and reasonable. “It’s about… I don’t know. I just don’t want anyone thinking they can look at you like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, stepping closer, biting back a laugh as you pressed your palm to his chest. His heartbeat thumped steadily beneath your hand, but you could feel the tension in him.

“Like… like you’re up for grabs or something.” His jaw clenched, and his eyes darted away from yours, like saying it out loud embarrassed him.

You blinked, genuinely taken aback for a moment. “Joey,” you said, softening your tone, “you realize that’s not how this works, right? Just because I look good doesn’t mean I’m inviting attention. And even if someone does look—so what? I’m coming home to you.”

His eyes flicked back to yours at that, softening slightly, but his lips pressed into a stubborn line. “Yeah, but you’re mine,” he muttered, the words barely audible but so pointed they hung heavy in the air.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. “Yours?” you repeated, shaking your head in disbelief. “What, are you going to put a sticker on me that says ‘Property of Joe Burrow’?”

He groaned, his hand raking through his hair again. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Do I?” you shot back, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Because it kinda sounds like you’re saying I can’t wear what I want unless it gets your approval.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all!” he said quickly, but the way his ears were turning pink made you think he was second-guessing himself.

“Then what?” you asked, crossing your arms now, mirroring his earlier stance. “Because, if you think I’m changing out of this dress just because it makes you nervous, you’ve got another thing coming.”

He stared at you for a moment, his jaw working, clearly torn between frustration and surrender. “It’s not nervous,” he mumbled finally. “It’s just… look, you’re too damn sexy, okay? There. I said it. And I'm not there to make sure nobody thinks they can have you.”

You raised an eyebrow, your grin growing wider. “Ohhh, I see,” you said, dragging out the words. “So, this isn’t about the dress at all. It’s about you being jealous.”

His face scrunched like he wanted to deny it, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he settled for muttering, “I’m not jealous.”

“Right,” you said, stepping closer to him again. “Because you’re totally fine with me going out looking like a ‘damn goddess,’ as I’m sure some guy at the bar is going to say.”

Joe groaned again, tipping his head back against the doorframe. “Do you have to do this?”

“Yes,” you said brightly, standing on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Because it’s fun watching you squirm.”

He sighed, his hands finally coming to rest on your hips, pulling you in closer. “I’m serious, though,” he said, his voice lower now, quieter. “You look amazing. Too amazing. And I trust you—I do—but that doesn’t mean I trust every drunk guy who’s gonna see you tonight.”

“I can handle drunk guys,” you said softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And besides, you know I’d never let anyone get too close.”

“I know,” he admitted, resting his forehead against yours. “I just hate the idea of someone thinking they even have a chance.”

“Well, they don’t,” you said simply, smiling up at him. “You’re the only one who gets to peel me out of this dress later.”

His lips twitched into a smirk at that, and you could feel some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Yeah, you’re damn right I am.”

You grinned, giving him another quick peck on the lips before stepping back. “Now, are you done being dramatic, or do I need to remind you that this is my night out?”

He sighed, letting his arms drop but not stepping back. “Fine,” he said, though his tone still had a hint of reluctance. “But if you’re not home by midnight, I’m calling.”

You laughed, grabbing your Chanel clutch and heading for the door. “Sure, Cinderella. Whatever you say.”

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[rispwr]

Number one girl ・❥・J.JK (Fluff)

pairings : jungkook x afab! reader

genre : frienemies2??, established relationship, fluff, slight angst, enemies in public, bsfs in secret.

sypnosis : what's more confusing than math? your feelings for a man you don't like but you don't hate.

content : student council vp! reader, playfuckboy! jk, bets, ciggarettes, alcohol, parties, club, jungkook map of the soul persona era, no smut just plot and fluff, misunderstanding.

word count : 14,4k

music rec : number one girl by rose, if you want to by beabadoobee, do i wanna know by arctic monkeys, number 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys.

It was 9 PM, And Jungkook had shown up at my door earlier, carrying my favorite food, with a grin on his face. now i was wrapped securely in his arms.

My legs were draped over his lap, and my head rested against his chest, As his hands moved lazily through my hair, his fingertips tracing soft patterns on my scalp. His voice, low, hummed a tune I didn't recognize but found comfort in.

"Kook?" I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest.

"Hmm?" His response was gentle, paired with the subtle vibration of his voice as he kept humming.

I lifted my head, finally meeting his gaze. His dark eyes softened as he looked down at me, his lips curving into a slight smile as his hand continued its soothing motion through my hair.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, my voice teasingly light. "...For dessert?"

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "You want ice cream?" he guessed, amusement flickering in his tone.

I nodded quickly, the excitement bubbling up and escaping in the form of a wide grin. He chuckled softly at my enthusiasm. "Alright," he said with a soft laugh, his hand leaving my hair briefly to tap my nose.

"So, do you wanna let go of me so we can get some?" His voice was playful, his smile knowing.

I raised an eyebrow, feigning sarcasm. "Let me enjoy this moment, Jungkook," I replied dramatically. "When you're not being a moody girl on her period for once."

His laugh was warm, filling the space between us as he pulled me closer, his arms tightening around me. "A moody girl, huh?" he teased, his lips brushing the top of my head as he spoke.

I groaned loudly, burying my face back into his chest. "Kookkkk!!" I squealed, my voice muffled by his hoodie.

That's when it started. His hands, once gentle and soft, suddenly moved to tickle my sides. My laughter erupted uncontrollably, as I wriggled in his grip, trying and failing to escape.

"Stop! Jungkook!" I cried between gasps of laughter, my hands slapping against his biceps in a weak attempt at resistance.

But he only laughed harder, his grip firm as he leaned over me, effectively pinning me beneath him. and soon I was sprawled out on the bed, breathless and flushed.

He paused then, hovering over me with a grin, his dark hair falling into his eyes. For a moment, everything stopped. His laughter faded. His gaze locked with mine.

It was the way his eyes softened as they roamed over my face, the way his breath hitched ever so slightly.

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something.

But then, as quickly as the moment came, it was gone.

"Uh, okay," he blurted, his voice an octave higher than usual as he broke the silence. "Let's go?"

The sudden awkwardness was almost comical. He scrambled off me, sitting up on the bed and rubbing the back of his neck.

I stayed where I was, still lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling in stunned silence. My heartbeat thundered in my chest, and I pressed a hand against it as if that would calm the storm raging inside me.

Jungkook stood then, adjusting his hoodie as he avoided my gaze. "So... you wanna get up and wear a bra so we can go out, hun?"

The teasing lilt in his voice snapped me out of my daze.

"Jeon Jungkook!" I gasped, sitting up and grabbing the nearest pillow. I hurled it at him with all the strength I could muster, but he dodged it effortlessly, his laughter filling the room once again.

"Shut up!" I yelled, my face heating as I scrambled to sit properly on the bed.

his laughter echoing down the hallway as he left the room.

Once he was gone, the silence returned, and I was left alone with my thoughts. My hand instinctively moved to my chest, pressing against the spot where my heart still raced.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, closing my eyes.

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away as I climbed out of bed, grabbing a hoodie to throw over my shirt. The last thing I needed was to overthink this.

Jungkook was just... Jungkook.

Right?

I sighed, making my way out of the room to find him. He was waiting for me at the door, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, that signature grin plastered across his face.

"Ready?" he asked, his tone light and teasing as always.

I nodded, slipping into my shoes as he held the door open for me.

----

we climbed into his car. The quiet hum of the engine filled the silence as he pulled out of the driveway, his hands gripping the steering wheel with casual ease.

"You're not gonna make me pick the playlist, are you?" I asked, settling into my seat and glancing at him.

"Nah, I've got us covered," he said, already queuing up a playlist on his phone. Moments later, our favorite song filled the car, and he started tapping the steering wheel to the beat.

Kiss me Kiss me with your eyes closed Whisper that your heart shows

I couldn't help but laugh as he began singing. well, shouting? the lyrics dramatically.

Hold me, I'm your bunny

Tell me I'm not funny

"Are you auditioning for something, Jungkook?" I teased, watching as he turned to give me an exaggerated wink before returning his focus to the road.

"Maybe. Think I've got a chance?" he asked, his tone light but his grin mischievous.

"Only if they're looking for someone to scare the judges away," I quipped.

He gasped in mock offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Wow. Betrayed by my own princess passenger."

---

We ordered our ice cream quickly, opting to eat in the car rather than sitting outside in the chilly night air.

The car was warm and cozy as we sat, our cones in hand. Jungkook took an exaggerated lick of his ice cream, his eyes narrowing at me like he was waiting for me to mess up somehow.

"What?" I asked, taking a cautious bite of my own.

"You've got..." He gestured vaguely to my face, his expression far too smug for my liking.

"Where?" I asked, swiping at my cheek.

"Nope, not there."

I frowned, trying again, but his grin only widened.

"Here, let me help," he said, leaning across the console. Before I could protest, he swiped his thumb across my cheek, his touch light and fleeting. Then, with a grin, he licked the ice cream off his thumb.

"Jungkook!" I gasped, shoving him lightly as heat rushed to my face.

"What? I was just helping!" he said, his voice dripping with fake innocence.

I tried to glare at him, but the laughter bubbling out of me betrayed my attempt. "You're impossible."

"And you're pretty," he shot back, his tone teasing but his eyes soft.

At some point, Jungkook leaned back in his seat, turning to look at me with an unreadable expression.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head with a small smile. "Just... i like the ice cream"

"Yeah," I said softly, meeting his gaze. "Me too."

The ride back was quieter. His hand rested casually on the gear shift, and every now and then, his fingers would brush against mine. Neither of us moved away.

-----

As I made my way to the student council meeting, I caught sight of him. Jeon Jungkook.

He was leaning casually against the lockers, surrounded by his usual group of guys. His hair was a mess in that perfect, lazy way, and he had that smirk on his face. the one that made the girls around him giggle like he was some kind of god.

I kept walking, my head held high, trying not to engage. We had an unspoken agreement, after all: no interaction in public. Jungkook made it crystal clear he didn't want to ruin his reputation by being seen talking to me. Not that I cared.

The less drama in my life, the better.

Still, I couldn't help but hate the way he gave me mixed signals when we were alone, only to act like a complete stranger in public.

"You good, Y/N?" one of the student council members, Hana, asked as she passed by me.

I nodded quickly, adjusting my glasses as I brushed past her. "Yeah, just heading to the meeting."

"Cool, see you there!"

As she disappeared into the crowd, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw Jakay's name pop up on my screen.

Jakay: Yo nerd, wanna go out later?

I rolled my eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

You: I have a meeting with the student council.

Jakay: Picking them over me, huh?

You: Wouldn't even pick you in a room full of your clones.

There was a pause before his reply came through.

Jakay: Ouch :(

Jakay: Can we at least just FT?

You: You tryna get in my pants or something?

Jakay: Want me to?

I stopped in the middle of the hallway, blinking at my screen. For someone who was usually all jokes, he had a way of toeing the line between playful and annoying.

You: Ew. I'm blocking you.

Jakay: LMFAOOO

Smirking to myself, I quickly blocked his number and tucked my phone back into my pocket.

A few seconds later, another buzz.

Jakay: Wait.

Jakay: You actually blocked me?!!

Not Delivered

Jakay: 💔💔

I stifled a laugh, shaking my head as I made my way to the student council room.

-----

The notifications on my phone lit up as I opened the chat.

Jakay: Can I now finally please come over? Jakay: Pretty please?

Rolling my eyes, I typed back.

Me: Better show up with ice cream.

The reply was immediate.

Jakay: Mint?

Me: You know it. Me: You can go to my place first. You have the key. Clean my table, pleaseee.

Jakay: Alrightt.

Satisfied, I locked my phone and stuffed it back into my pocket. The corner of my lips twitched upward, but before I could dwell on the ridiculousness of my on-and-off dynamic with Jungkook, Namjoon's familiar voice broke through my thoughts.

"Heyyyy," he said, slinging his arm casually over my shoulder as he caught up to me.

"What's up, Joon?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at his sudden appearance.

"Let me walk you home, hm?" he offered with a grin.

I chuckled, shaking my head but nodding in agreement. "Alright, alright."

As we walked along the street, a nearby cafe caught my attention.

"Wait," I said, pausing mid-step. "I'll just grab some coffee." I pointed toward the cozy cafe.

Namjoon followed me inside as I walked straight to the counter.

"brewed coffee and an iced americano, all grande" I told the cashier confidently.

Namjoon blinked in surprise. "Oh, I don't want any—"

"Not for you, bro," I interrupted, laughing as I turned to smirk at him.

He sighed dramatically. "Dang. Cold-hearted."

I rolled my eyes playfully and paid for the drinks. While we waited, Namjoon shifted my bag and books from one hand to the other, balancing the weight. I finally collected the drinks, gripping both cups carefully, while Namjoon resumed his self-proclaimed role as my porter.

"Walked you home, carried your stuff, and still didn't get anything," he muttered under his breath, though his playful tone made me laugh.

We arrived outside my apartment building, and I juggled the drinks to pull out my keys. Unlocking the door, I held it open for Namjoon to step inside.

"Just put my bag on the coffee table, thanks," I said, heading toward the kitchen to set the drinks down.

"Sure thing," Namjoon replied, stepping further into the apartment.

As I turned back around, my breath caught in my throat. Standing in the hallway was Jungkook. Shirtless. A towel hung low on his hips, and droplets of water slid down his chest, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. He looked up, catching my stare, and the corner of his mouth curved into a mischievous grin.

"Done staring?" he teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

I snapped out of it, my cheeks heating. "Oh, shut up, Jungkook," I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended.

Jungkook chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he reached up to rake a hand through his wet hair. The way he was clearly enjoying my flustered reaction only made me more annoyed—or was it embarrassed?

Behind me, Namjoon cleared his throat loudly.

"Ooookayy... so, I'm..." He glanced between Jungkook and me, his brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and realization. "Going?" he said, dragging the word out awkwardly.

Before I could even think of a response, Namjoon awkwardly laughed and moved toward the door.

"Thanks for walking me home!" I called after him, trying to smooth over the awkwardness as I followed him to the door.

"Yeah, uh, no problem. See you around!" Namjoon waved briefly before disappearing into the hallway.

I shut the door and turned to face Jungkook, who was now leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression smug.

"Friends, huh?" he said, his tone teasing but with an edge of something deeper

I crossed my arms, tilting my head with a smirk. "Why? Jealous?" I teased, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook.

His confidence faltered for a split second, and his face flushed a telltale shade of pink. "Why would I be?" he shot back, but the defensive edge in his tone only made me grin wider.

I took a step forward, then another, closing the space between us until we were just inches apart. His eyes widened slightly, flicking between mine, his breath hitching as if he wasn't sure what was coming next.

"So close, Jungkook," I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, leaning in as if to kiss him but stopping short. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his body stiff as a board.

"There's an iced americano for you," I whispered against his ear, my voice soft and teasing.

I heard his sharp intake of breath as I pulled back, grinning at his completely stunned expression. His face was a perfect mix of confusion and embarrassment, his lips slightly parted as if he were about to say something but couldn't find the words.

Turning on my heel, I burst out laughing, leaving him standing there, flustered and dumbfounded.

"Also, go wear some clothes!" I yelled over my shoulder as I walked to the counter.

Grabbing my iced white mocha, I took a long sip, savoring the sweetness while sneaking a glance at Jungkook from the corner of my eye.

He was still frozen in place, his hand running through his wet hair as he muttered something under his breath. Then, finally, he stormed off toward the bedroom, grumbling loud enough for me to hear.

"Unbelievable," he huffed, though the faint smile tugging at his lips didn't go unnoticed.

---

Jungkook disappeared into my room, grumbling something under his breath. I chuckled to myself as I heard him rifling through drawers. He always left a stash of clothes here, sweats, shirts, and sometimes even socks, as if this was his second home. I didn't mind. It just meant I got to see him looking effortlessly cozy, even when I wasn't ready for the effect it had on me.

A few minutes later, he emerged, now dressed in gray sweats and a loose black t-shirt. His damp hair still clung to his forehead in soft waves, and he ran a hand through it as he joined me in the kitchen. Without a word, he plopped onto the stool beside me, his elbow propped on the counter as he reached for my brewed coffee

"Touch it and you're dead," I warned, pulling the drink just out of his reach.

He smirked but pulled back, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"So," he said, leaning against the counter. "How was your student council meeting?"

I groaned at the question, resting my head on my hand. "The same. Boring and stressful. We have so many projects to focus on for the school. I don't know if I can even do it anymore."

I punctuated my complaint with a loud slurp of my iced white mocha.

Jungkook frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You need sleep. And you're definitely not getting any if you keep drinking that," he pointed out, gesturing to the drink I'd been clinging to for dear life.

I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze. "Would you rather this be vodka or... coffee?"

He hesitated for a moment before muttering, "Coffee..."

"Good choice," I teased, taking another sip.

"But seriously," I added, "I've got a presentation and essays due, like, all at once. My calendar's booked solid this month." I let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing my temples. "Might have to block you again to stop you from bothering me."

Jungkook's lips twitched in amusement, but he rolled his eyes. "You know you could just mute me, right? That's a thing."

I shook my head, leaning closer to him with a grin. "That would be too boring. I like being spammed with notifications of a play-fuckboy begging me to unblock him."

As if to punctuate my point, I reached out and booped his nose lightly with my finger.

He scrunched his nose, laughing softly. "You're so annoying, you know that?"

"That's rich, coming from you," I shot back.

Jungkook paused for a moment, his expression shifting slightly. "Hey, Y/N?"

"Hmm?" I hummed, turning to look at him.

"Nothing," he said quickly, glancing away as if he'd thought better of whatever he wanted to say.

I tilted my head, frowning slightly. "What's with you? Are you sick or something?"

"No," he muttered, waving off my question.

"Argh!" I groaned, pushing myself up from the stool dramatically. "I don't wanna be here anymore."

But as I stood, the world tilted abruptly. My legs wobbled, and I felt the ground rush up toward me.

"Y/N!" Jungkook was at my side in an instant, his arms steadying me before I could hit the floor.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with worry as he gripped my shoulders.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, trying to shrug him off. "Just lost my balance."

"You're not fine," he snapped, his jaw tightening.

"I just need to lie down for a bit—"

"Fuck no," he muttered, cutting me off. Before I could protest, he scooped me up in one swift motion, holding me in his arms like I weighed nothing.

"Jungkook, put me down!" I squealed, flailing in his grip, but he only tightened his hold.

"Nope," he said firmly, carrying me toward the door. "You're going to the doctor."

"You're overreacting!" I whined, kicking my legs weakly.

"And you're underreacting!" he shot back, his voice a mixture of frustration and concern.

The door swung open, and Jungkook carried me into the hallway. I buried my face in his chest, mortified as neighbors peeked out of their doors to see what the commotion was.

"Put me down! People are staring!" I hissed, trying to squirm out of his arms.

"Let them stare," he said, completely unfazed as he made his way to the elevator.

By the time we reached his car, I had resigned myself to my fate, crossing my arms with a pout as he settled me into the passenger seat.

"You're ridiculous," I muttered as he buckled me in.

"Yeah? And you're stubborn," he shot back, closing the door and jogging around to the driver's side.

The drive to the clinic was filled with silence. Jungkook's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw set in a way that he was still annoyed or worried.

"You don't have to do this, you know," I said, breaking the silence.

He glanced at me briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. "Someone has to."

The simple statement sent a strange warmth through my chest, and I found myself biting back a smile.

--

At the clinic, Jungkook still refused to let me walk, carrying me inside despite my protests. The doctor confirmed it was nothing serious just exhaustion, stress and low blood sugar.

"You need to take care of yourself," he scolded as we left the clinic. "Eat something, sleep more, and stop living on caffeine and stress."

"Okay, dad," I teased, earning a glare.

--

Back at the apartment, Jungkook carried me inside again, this time depositing me gently on the couch.

"Stay," he ordered, pointing at me like I was a misbehaving puppy.

"I'm not a dog," I muttered, but I stayed put, too tired to argue.

He disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a plate of "real food" and a glass of orange juice, not just your usual coke and apple.

"Eat," he said, setting it in front of me.

I raised an eyebrow but obeyed, taking a bite.

Satisfied, he flopped onto the other end of the couch, watching me closely.

"Feel better?" he asked after a while.

"Yeah," I admitted, avoiding his gaze.

"Good girl."

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "I'll be busy tomorrow," he said casually.

My brows furrowed. "Why? Gonna be busy fucking other girls?" I teased, my voice dripping with bitterness (jealousy) that I didn't even try to hide.

He straightened, tilting his head as he looked at me. "You really think that's all I do?"

"You seem to," I replied, averting my eyes and shrugging like it didn't bother me.

"For your information," he said, leaning forward slightly, "I haven't fucked anyone in four months."

"Wow, I'll give you a reward for that," I shot back sarcastically, though my heart was unexpectedly beating a little faster.

"Come on, Y/N," he sighed.

I looked up, surprised to see him sliding off his chair and kneeling on the floor in front of me. His gaze was soft but insistent, his presence filling the space between us.

"I'll be in Busan tomorrow," he said, his voice quieter now. "It's my mom's birthday."

"Oh," I said simply, unsure where this was going.

"Do you want to come?" he asked.

"Why?" I blurted out, narrowing my eyes at him.

He hesitated for a moment before answering, his voice steady but slightly unsure. "I wanna... introduce you to her."

My chest tightened at his words, and for a moment, I was completely thrown off. He wanted me to meet his mom? This wasn't something we did. This wasn't how we were supposed to be.

"Okay," I heard myself say before I could think twice.

Jungkook blinked, clearly surprised. "But you said you're fully booked this month," he reminded me.

"I'll make time and clear it up for you," I said, the words leaving my mouth without a single hesitation.

My own reply startled me. Why was I saying this? Why was I rearranging my schedule for him, of all people? He was just a... friend. Right?

"Alright," he said after a moment, a smile spreading across his face. "Pack up early."

Before I could respond, he suddenly stood and scooped me up in his arms again.

"What the fuck, Jeon Jungkook," I grumbled, glaring at him, though the warmth of his arms made it impossible to push him away.

"Relax," he said, laughing softly as he carried me to my room. He pushed the door open with his foot and stepped inside.

With surprising gentleness, he laid me down on the bed and tucked the blanket around me, his hands lingering for a second longer than necessary.

"I'll be here in a sec," he said, his voice softer now. "I'm just gonna clean up the mess in our kitchen."

He stood, giving me one last glance before heading out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

I stared at the ceiling, my heart thudding in my chest as the word "our" echoed in my mind.

Our kitchen.

The casual way he said it sent my stomach into a loop. It shouldn't have meant anything. It was probably just a slip of the tongue. But still, the idea of something shared between us, of an "our" instead of a "yours" or "mine," made my thoughts spiral.

This wasn't normal. None of this was. The teasing, the way he made himself so comfortable in my space, the way I let him take care of me even when I insisted I didn't need it. it all blurred the line of what we were supposed to be.

Why did I agree to go to Busan with him? Why was I clearing my schedule for him?

"Get a grip, Y/N," I muttered to myself, pressing my palms against my heated cheeks.

I groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head. This was going to be a long night.

True to his word, Jungkook returned a little while later. I heard the faint creak of the door as he pushed it open, followed by the soft sound of his footsteps approaching the bed.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice soft and tentative.

I peeked out from under the blanket, squinting at him in the dim light. His hair was now dry, now curling slightly at the edges, and the loose shirt he wore made him look almost boyish.

"The kitchen's clean," he said, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweats.

"Good," I muttered, my voice muffled by the pillow.

He chuckled, the sound warm and low, as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"And you're a pain in the ass," I shot back, though there was no real bite in my tone.

For a moment, we just looked at each other, the quiet settling around us. His presence was grounding, even if I hated admitting it.

"Want me to go home, or...?" he asked, his voice trailing off as if unsure how to finish the sentence.

I blinked at him, surprised by the question. Did I want him to leave?

"No," I said softly.

His brows lifted slightly, and he tilted his head. "You sure? I can just crash on the couch."

"Sleep here," I said quickly, tugging at his arm. "On the bed with me."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Still a brat, huh?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Your point?"

He chuckled softly, the sound almost affectionate, as he gave in. "Alright, alright. Scoot over."

I shuffled to the side of the bed, watching as he slid in beside me. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and the sudden closeness of him made my heart race.

Jungkook turned to face me, propping his head up on one hand. His other hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

"You're comfortable with this?" he asked, his voice low and almost hesitant.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to sound steady.

"Alright," he said again, his lips quirking up in a small smile as he laid back, pulling me against him.

I froze for a moment as his arms wrapped around me, but the warmth of his embrace melted my hesitation. His hand found its way into my hair, his fingers threading through the strands in a soothing rhythm.

"Better?" he asked softly, his breath warm against my temple.

"Yeah," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

For a while, neither of us spoke. The gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek, the quiet sound of his breathing, and the soft touch of his hand in my hair lulled me into a state of calm I hadn't felt in days.

"You're dangerous," I mumbled sleepily.

"Hmm?" he hummed, his fingers pausing for a moment before continuing their gentle movements.

"You make me feel..." my words slurred as i began to fall asleep.

----

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the blinds. I was already up, moving quietly as I packed for the three-day trip to Busan. I still didn't fully understand why I'd agreed to go or how I had so effortlessly rearranged my schedule for him. But as I folded clothes into the suitcase, a small part of me felt... excited.

Behind me, the sound of shifting blankets broke the quiet. I glanced over to see Jungkook stirring, his eyes barely open as he propped himself up on one elbow.

He blinked a few times before his gaze landed on me. "You're pretty," he said, his morning voice raspy and warm, catching me completely off guard.

My face heated instantly, and I fumbled with a bottle of skincare I'd just picked up. "Morning," I muttered, turning to face him briefly.

"You should wear a shirt and get ready," I said quickly, trying to redirect the attention away from my flushed cheeks. My eyes betrayed me for a split second, darting to his biceps. a habit I'd tried and failed to curb. He always had this infuriating tendency to sleep shirtless, even when he wasn't alone.

He smirked, clearly noticing, but thankfully didn't say anything.

After we both finished getting ready, we grabbed our bags and headed out. His car was waiting for us in the lot, and I climbed into the passenger seat as Jungkook loaded the luggage into the trunk.

As he slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, he glanced at me. "What'd you tell them?" he asked, his tone casual.

I grinned, leaning back in my seat. "Told them I was sick. Showed them the doctor's letter."

He chuckled at that, his laugh soft and low.

"You're something else, hun," he said, shaking his head with an amused smile.

We drove in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio filling the car. I found myself nervously picking at the hem of my shirt, my thoughts drifting to what lay ahead.

"So... is your mom..." I hesitated, glancing at him.

He raised an eyebrow, sparing me a curious look. "What?"

"Is she scary?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

"Why? You scared?" he teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Who wouldn't be?" I exclaimed, turning to face him fully. "It's my first time meeting her. First impressions last, you know?"

I slumped into my seat, crossing my arms as anxiety began to creep in.

Jungkook let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling as he glanced at me. "My first impression of you was a scary, strict vice president," he teased.

"Strict?!" I exclaimed, reaching out to playfully slap his biceps.

"Very strict," he said, laughing again. "You wouldn't even let me cut in line for coffee at the canteen that one time."

"You were trying to skip!" I protested, though I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"And you called me out in front of everyone."

"Because you deserved it!"

Jungkook shook his head, a grin still plastered on his face. "And now look at us. Guess first impressions aren't everything after all."

His words hung in the air for a moment.

Us

I looked out the window, my lips curving into a small smile.

"Guess not," I murmured.

I started to relax a little. Jungkook's ease behind the wheel and the familiar way he teased me made it harder to stay nervous.

"Do you think she'll like me?" I asked suddenly, my voice quieter this time.

Jungkook glanced at me, his expression gentler now. "Of course she will."

"You sound so sure," I said, biting my lip.

"Because I know her," he replied, his tone steady. "And I know you. You're... you're great, Y/N. She'll see that."

I blinked at him, caught off guard by his sincerity.

After what felt like an eternity of driving, we finally arrived in Busan. I stepped out of the car, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves swirling in my stomach. I adjusted my shirt, suddenly hyperaware of every wrinkle and stray strand of hair.

Jungkook moved to the trunk, effortlessly grabbing our bags. His casual state only made me feel more out of place, my shyness creeping in.

"Mom! We're here!" Jungkook called out as we approached the house, his voice carrying warmth and familiarity as he rang the doorbell.

A moment later, the door swung open to reveal his mom. Her face lit up the second she saw him, and she pulled him into a tight hug.

"Jungkook, my son!" she exclaimed, ruffling his hair as he grumbled in protest, though his smile betrayed how much he didn't mind.

Then her attention turned to me. Her gaze softened, her kind eyes taking me in as she stepped forward.

"Hello, dear," she said, her tone gentle as she opened her arms and pulled me into a brief but warm hug.

"Hi, ma'am," I replied, smiling shyly as I straightened up.

"Call me Mom, dear," she said, patting my shoulder affectionately, her smile widening as if I'd already won her over.

The unexpected kindness made me relax a little. "Okay, Mom," I said softly, smiling back.

"Perfect," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home."

Jungkook led the way as we stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloping us. It was cozy, with soft lighting and family photos lining the walls. The faint scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, making my nerves ease just a bit more.

Jungkook set the bags down by the stairs and glanced back at me, offering a reassuring smile. "See? Nothing to be scared of."

His mom chuckled, catching his words. "What's this? Were you nervous to meet me?" she teased, her tone lighthearted as she glanced at me.

I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck. "Maybe a little. First impressions and all..."

"Well, let me tell you," she said, reaching out to squeeze my hand gently, "you're doing just fine."

Jungkook smirked at me, clearly enjoying my flustered state, and I shot him a subtle glare.

"Jungkook, why don't you bring your stuff upstairs while I finish up lunch?" his mom suggested, already heading toward the kitchen.

"Will do," he said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the stairs before I could protest.

Jungkook led me through the house, pointing out random things like the cozy balcony view of the ocean. Then he stopped outside a door and pushed it open, revealing what I assume was his old bedroom.

"This is where I used to sneak out from," he said with a mischievous grin, pointing to the balcony door on the far side of the room.

"Why am I not surprised?" I teased, crossing my arms as I leaned against the doorway.

"You shouldn't be," he said, laughing softly as he walked into the room.

The space was simple but cozy, with warm wooden furniture, a few posters still tacked to the walls, and a bed that took up most of the space.

"Guess this is where we'll be staying," he said casually, tossing his duffel bag onto the bed.

"We?" I echoed, my eyebrows shooting up.

He turned to look at me, clearly amused by my surprise. "What? You scared to share a room with me?"

I rolled my eyes, though I could feel heat creeping up my neck. "Just don't hog the bed," I muttered, stepping into the room and setting my bag down.

Jungkook chuckled, leaning against the wall with his hands stuffed into his pockets. "See? Not so bad, right?"

"Not bad at all," I admitted, glancing around the room before my eyes landed on the balcony door again.

The sound of his voice brought my attention back to him. "She likes you," he said suddenly, his tone softer now.

I blinked, caught off guard by the statement. "How can you tell?"

"Because I know her," he said simply, his gaze meeting mine. "She wouldn't be this warm if she didn't."

A warmth spread through my chest at his words, and I found myself smiling despite the lingering nerves.

"Come on," he said, pushing off the wall. "Let's go help before she thinks I'm useless again."

Back in the kitchen, his mom was setting the table, the smell of homemade food filling the air.

"Perfect timing! Jungkook, you can put these on the table," she said, handing him a tray of side dishes.

"And Y/N, dear, could you help me with the soup?"

"Of course," I said, moving to the stove to carry the pot she pointed to.

As we worked together, Jungkook chimed in with little jokes and playful comments, earning a mix of laughs and exasperated eye rolls from his mom.

"Still the same troublemaker," she said, shaking her head fondly.

"Some things never change," I teased, glancing at Jungkook, who grinned shamelessly.

Once everything was ready, we all sat down to eat. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and stories of Jungkook's childhood. His mom had an endless supply of embarrassing anecdotes, and I couldn't stop laughing at the way Jungkook tried to defend himself, his ears turning pink as she recounted his antics.

"Mom, stop," he groaned, burying his face in his hands after the third story about him crying over a lost toy at the beach.

"Oh, don't be dramatic," she said, waving him off. "Y/N should know what she's getting into if she's spending time with you."

I couldn't help but laugh, feeling more comfortable with each passing minute.

After lunch, Jungkook helped clean up while his mom and I chatted at the table. She asked me about school, my family, and my interests, her questions thoughtful but never intrusive.

By the time Jungkook joined us again, I felt like I'd known her for years.

"Alright, Mom," he said, stretching as he stood behind her chair. "I'm stealing Y/N for the rest of the day."

"Stealing her? She's right here!" she teased, turning to pat his hand.

He grinned. "We're gonna go check out the beach."

His mom smiled knowingly. "Go ahead. But don't let her get cold, Jungkook."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a playful salute, earning a laugh from both of us.

As we grabbed our jackets and headed out the door, I glanced back at his mom, who waved at us with a warm smile. For the first time that day, I felt a little less nervous.

-----

We stood at the edge of the beach, the cool breeze tousling my hair as I watched the waves crash gently against the shore. The sun was beginning to set.

Jungkook was standing a little farther away, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I used to come here whenever I felt sad," he said quietly, almost to himself. "It's really relaxing here."

I glanced at him, then back to the peaceful view. "It really is," I agreed, feeling the calmness of the place wash over me. It was the kind of tranquility I hadn't realized I needed until now.

Suddenly, Jungkook moved, taking his phone out of his pocket. "Stand there," he instructed, pointing to a spot near the water, a small smile on his face. "Let me take a picture of you."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the spot he pointed to. "Really?" I asked, trying to hide my smile. "You know I'm not exactly in the mood for a photo shoot."

"Just one picture," he insisted, grinning like he always did when he was being playful. "I promise it'll be a good one."

Reluctantly, I stepped into the spot he'd pointed out, the wind picking up and blowing my hair behind me. I couldn't help but smile, the feeling of the breeze and the soft sound of the waves putting me at ease.

Jungkook tapped the screen of his phone, taking the picture. "Perfect," he said, walking toward me as he looked at the photo. He glanced at me and smirked. "But, no posting this, okay? The school board might think I made an excuse to go out."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "But you are," he teased, clearly enjoying getting under my skin.

I shot him a playful glare. "Shut up," I muttered, though I couldn't help but laugh.

"You know," I began, breaking the silence, "I only stay in Seoul to get away from my parents."

Jungkook looked over at me, eyebrows raised, clearly intrigued. "Why?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

I shifted my gaze toward the horizon, the vastness of the ocean making me feel smaller, but in a good way. "They always want me to be the first in everything," I vented, my words coming out faster than I expected. "Be like this, be like that... nothing I do is ever enough for them. It's always about achieving the next thing, being perfect. I don't know anymore," I finished, the words feeling heavier than I anticipated.

I let out a weak chuckle, trying to push the lump in my throat away. "I don't even know who I am sometimes."

Jungkook's gaze softened, and I could tell he was genuinely listening. But of course, he couldn't leave it without teasing me. "Is that why you're a nerd?" he asked with a playful tone, trying to lighten the mood.

I raised an eyebrow at him, rolling my eyes, but I played along. "Maybe," I said with a small smile, the tension in my chest easing just a little. "I was raised that way."

We both laughed, and it felt like the weight of everything had lifted, just for a moment. Maybe it was the beach, or maybe it was just being here with him,

We stayed there for a while, just sitting on the soft sand, the night sky above us twinkling with stars and for once, I felt at peace. We talked about things that felt too deep to share with anyone else

But eventually, the cool night air started to get to me, and I let out a small yawn. "We should go back. I'm sleepy," I said, stretching my arms and feeling the weight of the day catch up with me.

Jungkook nodded, standing up and offering his hand to help me up. "Alright," he replied, pulling me gently to my feet.

-----

 After cleaning up from dinner and spending hours chatting with his mom, Jungkook and I finally headed back to his room.

"You can take the bed," I said, trying to sound casual as I rummaged through my bag.

"So can you," Jungkook replied, his tone laced with amusement as he tossed his hoodie onto the chair.

I glanced up at him, narrowing my eyes. "Jungkook, it's your bed."

"And it's big enough for both of us," he said with a shrug, plopping down onto the mattress like he owned the place—which, technically, he did. "Unless you're worried about me hogging it."

"You do hog the bed," I muttered, crossing my arms.

He smirked, lying back against the pillows and stretching out his arms. "Guess we'll find out, won't we?"

I huffed, but deep down, the thought of sharing the bed with him wasn't nearly as daunting as it probably should've been. With a resigned sigh, I climbed onto one side of the bed, slipping under the blanket and keeping some space between us.

For a moment, the room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the wind outside and the soft creak of the mattress as Jungkook shifted to get comfortable.

"Comfortable?" he asked after a while, his voice low and warm in the dimly lit room.

"Yeah," I murmured, my back still turned to him.

But then I felt the bed shift again as he moved closer. His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me toward him.

"Kook," I whispered, my voice catching slightly. "If your mom comes in, she might get the wrong idea."

"I don't care," he said simply, his tone steady. His arms tightened around me, and I could feel the faint smile on his lips as his chin rested lightly against the top of my head.

I giggled softly, the sound muffled against his shirt.

"You're not funny," I muttered, though I didn't even think about pulling away.

"And you're funny?" he teased, his fingers finding their way into my hair. He began threading them gently through the strands, his touch soothing and familiar.

the next day

I became aware of a gentle touch against my face, soft and featherlight. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering as if he were memorizing every detail.

When I finally opened my eyes, Jungkook's face was the first thing I saw. He was propped up on one elbow, his eyes warm and filled with a quiet fondness. His lips curved into a small, tender smile as he continued to study me.

"Morning," I said, my voice groggy with sleep as I let out a yawn, stretching my arms above my head.

"Morning," he replied softly, his tone almost teasing but still gentle.

I blinked at him, my brows furrowing slightly as my brain caught up with the moment. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, giving him a suspicious look.

His smile grew, but he didn't answer. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on mine, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.

Flustered, I reached out and lightly smacked his arm. "Stop it," I muttered, my cheeks heating as I quickly sat up.

Jungkook laughed softly, his voice deep and husky from sleep. "What? I'm just admiring the view," he teased, his grin playful but still disarming.

"i hate you" I shot back, my face burning as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

I could feel his eyes following me as I made my way toward the bathroom, his quiet chuckle filling the room.

"Where are you running off to so fast?" he called out, his tone laced with amusement.

"To get away from you!" I shouted over my shoulder, though the smile tugging at my lips gave me away.

As soon as I closed the bathroom door behind me, I leaned against it, my hand pressed over my rapidly beating heart.

---

As we entered the dining room, my eyes were immediately drawn to someone new sitting at the table. Jungkook's brother, Ji-won, glanced up from his phone, his expression brightening when he saw us.

"Good morning," I said with a cheerful smile, adjusting my glasses as I stepped closer to the table.

Ji-won's gaze flickered between Jungkook and me, a teasing grin forming on his face. "Woah, you leave Busan for two years, and you already have a hot, smart girlfriend?"

I felt my cheeks flush at his words, but before I could respond, Jungkook waved his hand dismissively, his voice calm but firm.

"Oh no, she's just my friend. We're just very close," he said, pulling out a chair for himself and sitting down.

The words hit harder than they should have.

Just my friend.

I froze for a split second, forcing a polite smile as I took a seat at the table.

Just friends?

No way in hell "friends" did the things we did. No way they shared beds, whispered soft words at night, or looked at each other the way he looked at me this morning.

"Yeah, right," his mom chimed in, shaking her head with a knowing smile.

Before I could dwell on it further, she turned her attention to me. "Oh, Y/N dear, come here, eat up," she said warmly, handing me a plate piled high with food.

"Thank you, Mom," I said softly, trying to focus on the kindness in her voice rather than the pit forming in my stomach.

As I began eating, Jungkook's mom leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Does Jungkook feed you nice?" she asked, her tone playful.

I laughed, deciding to play along. "He doesn't even want to go to my favorite samgyupsal place," I said, pouting dramatically for effect.

"Hey!" Jungkook cut in, clearly flustered. "I buy you ice cream all the time!"

I raised an eyebrow, smirking at his weak defense. Before I could counter, his mom interjected, her laughter filling the room.

"Well, Kook, ice cream isn't very healthy, you know," she teased, shaking her head at him.

Jungkook crossed his arms, his lips forming a pout as he leaned back in his chair. "Well, if the princess wants it, she gets it," he muttered, feigning sulkiness.

The sight made me laugh softly, my earlier doubts momentarily pushed to the back of my mind.

"That's better," his mom said with a chuckle, patting his shoulder before turning her attention back to Ji-won.

I tried to pretend it didn't hurt.

Jungkook and his mom left for the supermarket, leaving me alone at the kitchen island with Ji-won. I had my laptop open, trying to focus on typing my speech for the foundation day, though my thoughts were a mess.

"So," Ji-won began, breaking the silence. "Do you like Jungkook?"

The question made me freeze, my fingers hovering over the keys. I took a moment, trying to gather myself, then resumed typing without looking at him.

"W-we're just friends," I said, the words feeling heavy as they left my lips.

Ji-won let out a low hum, clearly unconvinced. "Really? Because I don't think friends sleep on the same bed and cuddle each other to sleep... naked."

I gasped, my head whipping toward him. "We do not sleep naked!"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. "Saw you both last night. Jungkook was... shirtless, and you—"

Before he could finish, I cut him off. "No! I was wearing a tank top, and Jungkook was... shirtless." My voice trailed off, accepting my defeat. "But Jungkook always sleeps shirtless!" I added quickly, as if it somehow defended my dignity.

"Right," Ji-won said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. "So, if you're not his hot, smart girlfriend, then... who was he talking about?"

My body went stiff, and my eyes dropped to my laptop screen.

He has a girlfriend?

My heart sank as the thought hit me.

"I-I don't know," I mumbled, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace as I stood, grabbing my laptop. "Excuse me."

"Hey!" Ji-won called after me, his voice filled with teasing humor. "If you don't want Jungkook, I have a friend I can introduce you to—"

Before he could finish, I hurried upstairs, my footsteps loud against the wooden stairs.

In Jungkook's room, I placed my laptop on his desk, my breathing heavy as I tried to steady myself.

"fuck," I muttered under my breath. But the words did little to stop the ache forming in my chest.

"I need air," I whispered, grabbing a few cigarettes and a lighter from my bag.

---

The beach wasn't far from the house. The moment my feet hit the sand, the cool breeze washed over me.

Lighting a cigarette, I took a long puff, letting the smoke swirl in my lungs before exhaling slowly.

Is he really that stupid?

I took another drag, the embers glowing in the fading light of the evening.

Making me feel like this... and having a girlfriend?

All this time, he didn't want me.

Why was I even feeling like this? He was right. We were just friends. Nothing more.

He's my friend, and I'm his... loser, nerd friend.

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as I brought the cigarette to my lips again.

Should've known from the start. He doesn't even want to interact with me in public for the sake of his reputation.

The familiar ding of my phone pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced at the screen.

Jakay: Where are you? Jakay: Nvm. I checked your loc. Jakay: I'll go there with you.

Seen.

I put my phone in my pocket, plugging in my earbuds and pressing to play August by Taylor Swift.

"August slipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine..."

I sank onto the sand, pulling my knees to my chest as I stared out at the waves.

"I remember thinkin' I had you..."

Before I could take another puff of my cigarette, it was yanked from my hand.

"Y/N..."

I looked up to see Jungkook standing over me, disappointment etched across his face. He held the cigarette between his fingers, his jaw tight.

"You told me," he began, his voice low and steady. "You told me you wouldn't smoke anymore."

I turned away, hugging my knees tighter. "You smoke too," I muttered.

"Yeah, Y/N," he said, his voice softening. "But just because I do doesn't mean you should."

Before I could respond, he knelt beside me and pulled me into a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around me, his chin resting on my shoulder.

"You know I care about you, right?" he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. "Even when you're being such a fucking brat... I do. I fucking do, Y/N."

His grip on me tightened as he continued. "I can't handle seeing you do the things I do. It kills me."

I closed my eyes, his words sinking in, but the ache in my chest didn't ease.

I pulled away from his grip, standing up and brushing the sand off my clothes.

"Let's go," I said coldly, refusing to meet his eyes. "It's your mom's birthday party."

Back at the house, everyone was busy setting the table and decorating for the celebration. I immediately went to help Jungkook's mom, avoiding him entirely.

"Happy birthday, Mom," I said with a warm smile as I hugged her tightly.

"Oh, dear, come here more often, yeah?" she said, patting my back affectionately.

"I'll make sure to," I promised, returning her smile as I handed her the plates.

Dinner went by in a blur of laughter and cheer, everyone singing happy birthday as the candles on the cake flickered. But through it all, Jungkook's eyes never left mine.

"Happy birthday!" everyone cheered as his mom blew out the candles.

I clapped along with everyone else, but the weight of Jungkook's gaze made it impossible to focus on anything else. Across the table, his dark eyes locked onto mine

--

After dinner, I helped clean up the dining room, making sure to keep my distance from Jungkook. Once everything was done, I retreated upstairs to his room, collapsing onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

"Y/N?"

The door creaked open, and Jungkook stepped inside, his expression unreadable as he approached the bed.

"Can we talk?" he asked, sitting down beside me.

I didn't answer, instead sitting up and taking a deep breath.

"Why do you... why do you always make me so confused?" I finally said, my voice trembling.

"What?" he asked, his brows furrowing.

"I don't even know what I feel anymore, Jungkook," I continued, my words spilling out. "One second, you're treating me like I'm someone special to you. Then the next second, you remind me we're only friends."

"Y/N, I—"

I cut him off, my voice breaking. "I hate it, Jungkook. I fucking hate it."

Tears streamed down my face as I looked at him, my chest heaving. "You bring me here to meet your mother, and then I find out you apparently have a 'hot, smart girlfriend.'" I paused to take a shaky breath. "I hate that I'm crying in front of you right now."

Before I could pull away, he brought me into his arms. I tried to push him off, but his grip didn't falter.

"You're out there fucking other girls at school," I sobbed, weakly hitting his chest. "And I'm here, being a fool for your words and actions. I don't even know what to feel anymore."

I looked down, my voice barely above a whisper. "I think I'm in love, but I'm not, because I despise your guts. But at the same time... I love hating you because....." i sigh not wanting to drop the L bomb.

Jungkook let me rant, his arms never leaving me.

"Did you drink?" he asked softly.

I froze, looking down at my lap.

"How much?" he pressed.

"Maybe... three. Or seven," I mumbled.

He let out a deep sigh, gently putting me down on the bed.

"We'll talk when you're sober," he said, grabbing my makeup remover and carefully wiping my face.

I stared at him, speechless.

"Didn't your doctor tell you to stop drinking? Smoking? Any of that?" he muttered with a soft chuckle, his voice heavy with frustration.

He paused, his voice barely audible. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I couldn't respond. Instead, i fell asleep. 

-----

I woke up, my head spinning slightly as I blinked at the clock on the bedside table.

12:23 PM.

I shot up, panic coursing through me. "Oh my god," I muttered, scrambling to throw on something decent before rushing downstairs.

As I went downstairs, I found Ji-won, Jungkook, and his mom already at the kitchen table, chatting and enjoying what was left of brunch.

"I'm so, so sorry I woke up late," I blurted, trying to catch my breath as I stood by the table.

"Oh, it's alright, dear," Jungkook's mom said with a kind smile. "Jungkook told me you weren't feeling well. Here, go eat." She pushed a plate toward me, still warm with food.

"Thank you," I said, my voice softening as I smiled back and sat down. Jungkook's eyes were on me the whole time, but I avoided looking directly at him.

"We'll head home in a bit," Jungkook said after a moment. "Maybe later, once Y/N finishes getting ready."

I turned to him, frowning slightly. "D-do you know what happened last night? I don't think I remember much. I just remember you telling me we'd talk."

He tilted his head, his lips pressing into a tight line. "You don't... remember?"

"Why? Did I say something bad? Or wrong?" I asked nervously.

"Nothing," he said flatly, his attention shifting to his phone as his tone grew colder.

The tension in the room was suffocating, so I quickly finished eating and stood up. "I-I'll go dress up," I mumbled, heading upstairs without waiting for a response.

In the room, I focused on packing, trying to push away the unease settling in my chest. I zipped up my suitcase just as Jungkook came in, helping me carry our stuff downstairs to load into the trunk.

---

After bidding his mom and brother goodbye, Jungkook and I climbed into the car. The silence between us was deafening.

"Just drop me off at my apartment," I said, my gaze fixed out the window.

"I know," he replied curtly.

The drive back to Seoul stretched endlessly, each second weighed down by unspoken words. I stole a glance at him occasionally, but his expression remained unreadable, his focus firmly on the road.

When we finally arrived, Jungkook carried my bags into my apartment. He set them down quietly, his movements stiff.

"Bye," he said simply before walking out the door.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the room, and I sank onto the couch, exhaling shakily. My phone buzzed on the cushion beside me.

I picked it up to see Namjoon's name flashing on the screen. With a sigh, I answered.

"Hey, wanna go to a party with me?" he asked, his voice chipper.

"Joon, you know I don't like parties," I replied, leaning my head back against the couch. "Plus, I'm a VP. I can't be doing that."

"Come on! Just this once, pleaseee," he begged.

I groaned, rubbing my temple. "Alright, just this once. But—"

"But what?" he interrupted eagerly.

"What do I get out of it?"

"A really fun time and a cool best friend: me," he answered with a laugh.

"Shut up," I muttered, though I couldn't help but grin.

"Get ready," he said. "I'll come over and help. I know you're clueless about party outfits."

"Excuse me?" I shot back, feigning offense.

"On the way," he said before hanging up.

---

Namjoon arrived a few minutes later, letting himself in with his usual energy.

"Alright, where are our candidates?" he asked, clapping his hands.

I pointed to the dresses hanging in my closet.

The first was a tight black dress, sleek and long with a high slit.

"Too long," he said with a shake of his head.

The next was a baby pink, flowy dress.

"Too cutesy."

I rolled my eyes and held up a white, shiny dress adorned with rhinestones.

"Are you dressing up as a disco ball?" he teased, making me laugh despite myself.

Finally, I pulled out a light pastel green, silky dress that hugged my body in all the right places while maintaining an elegant air.

Namjoon's jaw dropped slightly as he stared at me. "This is it. You're gorgeous," he said, still looking a little stunned.

I smiled shyly and began curling my hair, keeping my makeup natural with a soft, flushed look.

When I was done, I called Namjoon into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready," I said, gesturing for him to come in.

He walked in and froze, his eyes widening.

"Woah," he said.

"What?" I asked, tilting my head.

"You... you don't have your glasses," he said, his voice softer.

"I'm wearing contacts, silly," I replied with a small laugh.

Namjoon shook his head as if snapping out of a daze. "Alright, alright. Come on, let's go."

I glanced at the clock and sighed. "Can't believe it's already 9. It took us seven hours to get me ready!"

"Well, it was worth it," he said with a grin. "Let's party."

The party was already in full swing when Namjoon and I arrived. The bass of the music thumped loudly in my chest as I looked around, the crowd a chaotic blur of moving bodies and flashing lights.

"Hey, Joon? I'm gonna grab some drinks," I called out over the noise.

He nodded, already immersed in conversation with someone.

Weaving my way through the crowd, I was halfway to the bar when I accidentally bumped into a group of guys. The smell of cologne and alcohol was overpowering, and as I glanced up, my heart sank.

It was Jungkook.

And his friends.

"Hey, loverboy," one of them said with a grin, nudging Jungkook's arm. "Look, is that your girl?"

The group burst into laughter, their teasing loud and sharp.

Jungkook's ears turned red, and he hesitated before mumbling, "N-no."

His answer made something in me twist painfully, but before I could process it, one of his friends stepped closer, his smirk widening.

"How does it feel being one of Jungkook's bets?"

The words hit me like a freight train. My breath caught in my throat, and I turned to Jungkook, my vision blurry from the sting of unshed tears.

"Y/N—" he started, his voice panicked, but one of his friends grabbed his arm.

"Let her be," they said, laughing cruelly.

I yanked my arm away from the guy and hurried to the bar, my heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the music.

Sitting on a stool, I poured alchohol into a red cup with shaky hands and took a large sip. The burn didn't matter. anything to dull the ache in my chest.

The hours blurred together. By the time I finished my ninth cup, the world spun hazily around me. I stumbled toward a couch, collapsing onto the soft cushions, my head buzzing.

Two men approached, their faces vaguely familiar from campus.

"Hey," one of them said, leaning in closer. "Aren't you the VP?"

I nodded drunkenly, unable to form a coherent response.

The other one grinned, his eyes lingering too long on me. "You don't seem like one right now."

I tried to laugh it off, but then I felt a hand on my leg, slowly creeping upward.

"Stop," I muttered weakly, but they ignored me.

"STOP!" I cried out, my voice breaking into a scream as I tried to push them away.

Before I could move, a fist flew past me, landing squarely on the guy's face. He stumbled back, clutching his jaw, and I blinked blearily as Jungkook stood in front of me, his chest rising and falling in anger.

"Touch her again, you punk," Jungkook growled, his voice low and dangerous before landing another punch.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as people turned to watch. Phones appeared, cameras flashing as whispers filled the room.

"Isn't that our VP?" "Don't they hate each other?" "What's going on?"

Jungkook turned to me, his face etched with concern as he grabbed my arm.

"Come on," he muttered, pulling me to my feet.

"Who brought you here?" he demanded, his voice sharp as we stepped outside into the cool night air.

"N-Namjoon," I mumbled, giggling drunkenly.

"Fuck," he hissed, running a hand through his hair. "How much did you drink?"

"I-I don't—" Before I could finish, my knees gave out, and I felt myself falling.

"Shit," Jungkook cursed, catching me just in time and scooping me into his arms bridal style.

As he carried me toward his car, I stirred slightly, my head lolling against his chest. "Do I love you?" I mumbled, my words slurring together.

Jungkook froze for a moment, his grip tightening on me.

"I should be mad at you for making me your bet," I slurred, tears streaming down my face. "But... I feel this weird feeling."

"Y/N—" he started, his voice soft, but I cut him off.

"I don't wanna love you, Jungkook," I cried, my words breaking with a sob. "I don't love you. I shouldn't."

My chest heaved as I buried my face against his shoulder. "Why do you do this? I'm so confused. I just wanna be the number one girl in your eyes," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"I hate this, Jungkook... I hate you," I muttered weakly, my tears soaking into his shirt as I finally succumbed to exhaustion.

Jungkook sighed heavily, his expression unreadable as he opened the car door and gently placed me in the passenger seat. He tucked the seatbelt around me, his movements careful and deliberate, before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side.

The car ride was a blur, punctuated only by the sound of my occasional hiccup and the faint sound of his playlist. When we finally reached my apartment, Jungkook wasted no time carrying me inside. His steps were careful, steady, as though he was trying not to move me too much.

He pushed the door open with his foot and gently set me down on the bed, brushing stray hair from my face as I muttered incoherently.

"Kook..." I mumbled, tugging weakly at the strap of my dress. "My dress. Please... undress it."

Jungkook froze, his ears turning red as he looked at me, flustered. "I can't," he said softly, his voice strained.

"Just close your eyes," I slurred, meeting his gaze drunkenly, my eyes half-lidded.

He hesitated for a long moment, his jaw tightening before he sighed, relenting. "Fine."

"Get up," he said, helping me sit up on the edge of the bed. I swayed slightly, leaning on him as I turned around. His hands hesitated at the zipper, his breath hitching.

"Y-you're not wearing a bra?" he stammered as the zipper came undone, the fabric loosening around me.

"The bra strap would make it ridiculous," I muttered, shrugging as though it were obvious.

Jungkook let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he tried to keep his eyes tightly shut. "You're unbelievable," he said under his breath.

He stood and moved to my closet, rummaging for something suitable to replace the dress. Finally, he pulled out a pair of shorts and one of his oversized shirts, a look of familiarity flickering in his eyes.

"C'mere," he said, his voice low but gentle.

I stumbled toward him, my bare shoulders brushing against his arm as he carefully helped me into the clothes. His hands worked quickly, his eyes still closed as he guided my arms through the sleeves of the shirt.

"There," he said once the task was done. "You're all set."

I flopped back onto the bed, letting out a tired sigh. But before I could sink into the mattress completely, Jungkook spoke again.

"Wait, your makeup," he said, reaching for the wipes on my bedside table.

I groaned but didn't resist as he sat beside me, his touch surprisingly delicate as he began to wipe away the remnants of my makeup. The cold wipe against my skin was oddly soothing, and I found myself watching him through half-closed eyes.

"Why do you do all this for me?" I slurred, my words heavy and unsteady.

Jungkook didn't look at me, his focus on carefully wiping away the smudged mascara. "Because I want to," he answered simply.

I tilted my head, frowning slightly. "How much did you get?"

"Huh?" he asked, his hand pausing mid-wipe.

"How much money did you win?" I repeated, my voice softer but sharper.

Realization dawned in his expression, and he looked away for a moment before muttering, "a hundred bucks."

I let out a drunken laugh, though there was no real humor in it. "Grab my wallet," I said, making his brows furrow in confusion.

"What?" he asked, staring at me as though I'd lost my mind.

"Go ahead. Grab my wallet," I insisted, giggling to myself as I added, "You won me, so I'll win myself again. I'll just buy myself back."

Jungkook froze, his jaw tightening as my words hung in the air.

"But you won me, too," he said softly, his tone laced with a faint teasing edge. "So I guess we both won each other."

I shook my head, my laughter fading. "But I didn't make you a bet," I said quietly, the ache in my chest seeping into my voice.

The words hit him like a blow, and I saw his expression falter, his stomach clearly twisting with guilt. He looked away, his grip on the makeup wipe tightening for a moment before he resumed cleaning my face.

"Are you wearing contacts?" he asked after a beat, his voice low but steady.

"Maybe," I muttered, my head lolling slightly as the alcohol swirled in my veins.

"Let me take them off," he said, his thumb gently pulling down my eyelid. His touch was careful as he removed the lenses one by one, leaving my eyes bare and vulnerable.

"You go sleep now, alright?" he said softly, brushing a hand through my hair.

I reached out weakly, tugging at his arm. "Can you... can you just hug me to sleep?" I asked, my voice small and trembling.

Jungkook froze, his body tensing under my grip. "Y/N..." he began, his voice hesitant.

"For the last time," I murmured, my eyes fluttering shut. "Before you go away."

His hesitation lingered in the air, but eventually, he relented. I felt the mattress dip as he lay down beside me, his arms wrapping around me carefully, tightly.

----

I woke up to a pounding headache, my head spinning as I slowly sat up. The sunlight streaming through the window felt like knives piercing through my skull, and I groaned, rubbing my temples.

As I shifted in bed, I noticed the fabric of the shirt I was wearing. It wasn't mine.

It was Jungkook's.

The oversized shirt hung loosely on me, the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to the fabric. My breath hitched as I brought it closer to my nose, the smell both comforting and suffocating at the same time.

Did he come here? How did I get home?

I tried to piece together the fragments of the previous night, but my memory was hazy. I reached for my phone on the bedside table, the screen lighting up with notifications.

And there it was.

The first video was blurry but unmistakable. Jungkook stood in the middle of a crowd, his fists clenched as he towered over a guy on the couch.

"Touch her again, you punk," his voice growled through the speakers.

The bystanders gasped as Jungkook pulled me up, his arm protectively around my waist.

I scrolled further, finding another video. This time, it was of him carrying me in a bridal style, weaving through the crowd.

The audio was faint, but I could just make out my own drunken voice slurring, "Do I love you?"

Jungkook froze for a moment in the video, his face tightening as he looked at me.

I groaned loudly, burying my face in my hands. "ARGH!" I yelled, the sound echoing in my empty apartment.

I threw the phone onto the bed, pacing the room in frustration.

----

I had barely stepped onto campus when the student council secretary approached me, her expression a mix of pity and worry.

"Hey, Pres is calling for you," she said, her voice low. "You should go to the office."

My heart sank. I shut my eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to prepare for whatever storm was waiting for me.

----

Walking into the student council office felt like stepping into a courtroom. Our president was seated behind the desk, her arms crossed, her expression one of pure fury.

"Hello—" I began hesitantly, but before I could finish, she slammed her phone onto the table with a loud thud, cutting me off.

"Y/N, are you fucking kidding me?" she snapped, her voice sharp enough to make me flinch.

She picked up her phone and shoved the screen toward me. There it was: the video of Jungkook punching the guy and carrying me out of the party.

"I know—" I tried to defend myself, but she didn't let me finish.

"First, you ditch our project meetings for three days, and now you're trending all over school being associated with Jeon Jungkook!" Her voice was rising with every word.

I swallowed hard, guilt pooling in my stomach.

"Do you even realize what this could do to our school's reputation? You're a VP, for fuck's sake, Y/N. Act like it!"

I stared down at the floor, the weight of her words pressing down on me. "Pres, I'm sorry," I murmured weakly.

Her glare didn't soften. "You'll be the one delivering the speech this Friday. Have you prepared everything?"

"Yes, Pres. I have. I'll email you everything today, I promise," I said quickly, hoping to salvage what little trust she had left in me.

She leaned back in her chair, her gaze still hard. "Why were you absent?"

"I, um... I was sick," I lied, trying to keep my voice steady.

Her eyes narrowed, and she scoffed. "Lies."

Reaching for her phone again, she swiped a few times before holding it up to me. "Have you seen Jeon Jungkook's Instagram?"

My heart sank further as I stared at the screen. The feed was filled with pictures from Busan—our trip to Busan.

I swiped through the photos, each one hitting me harder than the last.

The first was a picture of me asleep in Jungkook's arms, my face soft and peaceful against his chest.

The second showed me helping his mom set the dinner table, a smile on my face as I handed her a plate.

The third was of the beach. A candid shot of me laughing, the ocean behind me, my hair wild from the wind.

And then there was the last picture.

It was a candid shot of Jungkook and me. We were standing close, our faces inches apart, like we were about to kiss. The caption underneath read: "My number one girl."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

A part of me fluttered with a strange mix of happiness and flustered confusion. But that fleeting warmth was quickly crushed by the weight of reality.

Was this just for his bet?

The thought tore through me, leaving my heart aching.

The president sighed, snapping me back to the present.

"This is unacceptable, Y/N," she said, her tone cold. "You're supposed to represent the school, not become some tabloid headline."

I nodded numbly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I understand."

"Fix this," she ordered, her words final as she dismissed me with a wave of her hand.

I turned and walked out of the office, my legs shaky beneath me. The hallways felt suffocating, every student's gaze like a spotlight on me. The whispered rumors, the muffled laughs all of it rang in my ears.

How could he do this?

I walked into class, my head still pounding from the events of the morning. As I slumped into my seat, Namjoon turned toward me, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Told you I shouldn’t have gone," I snapped, shooting him a glare. "Now I’m screwed."

Namjoon’s smile disappeared, and he clasped his hands together in a mock plea. "Y/N, I’m really, really sorry. I swear I will never invite you to another party again."

"You mean to not leave me alone at one," I retorted sharply, crossing my arms.

Namjoon winced, nodding. "I was trying to find you, but by the time I did, Jungkook was already there."

I sighed, shaking my head at him. "Alright. Just... don’t let it happen again."

He leaned closer, nudging my arm gently. "So, is it true? Did you ditch your project meetings to go on a trip with Jungkook?"

I glared at him again. "Say another word about that, and you’re dead."

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he turned back to his notebook.

During class, I discretely checked my phone under the desk, ignoring the lesson for a moment. My notifications glared back at me, drawing my attention to Jungkook’s messages from the night before.

Yesterday, 11:03 PM Jakay: Y/N... I’m sorry. Jakay: Can we talk about this? Jakay: I’ll explain everything after the party.

Seen. Blocks.

I locked my phone, shoving it into my pocket and forcing my focus back to the lesson.

After school, I trudged back to my apartment, exhausted and emotionally drained.

"I want ice cream," I muttered to myself as I walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer. My eyes immediately landed on the mint chocolate ice cream Jungkook had bought for me.

As I pulled it out, a small note stuck to the lid caught my attention. The handwriting was unmistakable.

"I love you. I’m sorry."

I stared at the note for a moment, my chest tightening. Then, without a second thought, I crumpled it up and threw it into the trash. My hands trembled as I opened the ice cream aggressively, shoving a spoon into it and taking a large bite.

---

I had just started to feel slightly at ease when my phone buzzed.

Unknown: Y/N, I’m sorry. Unknown: You probably don’t want to talk to me ever. Unknown: I was really genuine about bringing you to Busan to introduce you to my mom. Unknown: I won’t bother you again. Unknown: Good luck with your speech at Foundation Day. :)

I clenched my jaw, my fingers trembling as I began typing a reply.

Me: If you were really genuine, you wouldn’t have posted me on your IG when you knew what could happen. Me: I thought we agreed to not associate with each other in public. Me: I thought it would be a social suicide for you. Me: Unless you were really desperate for that bet money that you had to drag my school life into this, knowing I’m on the student board, a VP. Me: Fix this, because I’m not apologizing or cleaning up a mess I didn’t make. Me: Goodbye.

Seen.

---

The following days were filled with avoidance.

Flowers left outside my door? Ignored. Chocolates with handwritten notes? Straight to the trash. Mint chocolate ice creams? Untouched in the freezer.

I threw myself into student council work, directing Foundation Day projects with single-minded focus. By the time I finally got home each night, I was too exhausted to think about anything or anyone else.

It was the night before Foundation Day. I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, my body aching from the day’s work. The clock read 10:34 PM, and I was just about to fall asleep when my phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

I ignored it, but it rang again moments later. With a sigh, I picked up.

"Hello?" I said, my voice groggy and annoyed.

"Do you know Jungkook?" an unfamiliar voice asked, urgency lacing their words.

"Yes, why?" I replied, sitting up.

"Can you come to euphoria Club, please? It’s urgent," the man pleaded.

Alarm bells rang in my head. I quickly threw on a cardigan over my Hello Kitty pajamas and ordered an Uber, my heart pounding with worry the entire ride there.

---

The club was chaotic when I arrived, the music blasting so loud I could feel it in my chest. I pushed through the crowd, calling out his name.

"Jungkook!"

"Here!" someone called out, waving their hand.

I hurried toward the voice, finding Taehyung and a few of Jungkook’s other friends standing near a slouched figure.

"Y/N...?" Taehyung’s voice trailed off, surprised as I brushed past him to Jungkook.

"Kook?" I said softly, kneeling beside him. "Come on, let’s go home."

He looked up at me, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "I’m sorry, Y/N..." he muttered drunkenly, leaning forward to hug me. "I really am. I fucked up."

"Can you drive?" Yoongi asked, his face serious.

I nodded. "Help me pick him up."

Together, we managed to get Jungkook to his car. He was barely coherent, slurring his words as I buckled him into the passenger seat.

As I drove, Jungkook chuckled weakly to himself, his head lolling against the window.

"I like this girl so much," he mumbled, his words slurred but clear enough. "But she’s still so clueless and confused about it, but i think she's just convincing herself she doesn't want me"

I gripped the wheel tighter, pretending not to care.

"She’s really pretty and smart, y’know?" he continued, his voice soft and wistful.

He paused for a moment before letting out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I won the bet... but I lost her."

My chest tightened at his words.

"So basically, I lost," he said, shaking his head and pressing his palm to his forehead.

"You can’t have both," I replied softly, focusing on the road.

"Why did I even pick the bet over her?" he muttered, more to himself than to me.

When we reached his apartment, I gently guided him to the couch. He leaned heavily on me, his movements sluggish.

As I turned to leave, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist.

"I missed you," he murmured, pulling me into a hug.

I froze, his words hanging in the air as his grip slackened and he drifted off to sleep.

With a sigh, I glanced at the clock on my phone: 1:00 AM.

I stayed where I was, sitting beside him on the couch. Exhaustion overtook me, and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep, too.

--

The shrill blare of my alarm yanked me from sleep, and I groggily blinked at the time.

"Shit!" I shot up, panic surging through me as the realization hit.

"Jungkook! Jungkook!" I shook him awake, my voice urgent.

He stirred, rubbing his eyes before looking at me with a mix of confusion. "What? What’s going on?"

"Please, please drive me to my apartment—quickly!" I said, already scrambling to gather my things. "Today’s Foundation Day!"

That seemed to snap him out of his half-asleep state. "Fuck," he muttered, getting up in a rush to grab his car keys.

"Wait!" I stopped him, heading for his bag. I found the painkillers I knew he’d need and poured a glass of water from the kitchen. "Take this first," I said, holding the pill and water out to him.

He downed it quickly, nodding as he grabbed his jacket and motioned for me to follow.---

We sped through the streets in his car.

"Fuck, fuck," I muttered under my breath, tapping my foot nervously.

"I’m sorry—fuck," Jungkook muttered, his voice tense as he focused on the road.

When we finally reached my apartment, I leaped out of the car, hurriedly grabbing my things. I barely had time to thank him as I rushed inside to get ready.

The next thirty minutes were a disaster. I applied my makeup with practiced speed, slipping into my carefully chosen pretty outfit for the day.

Jungkook had followed me inside to clean up as well, and when I emerged, I found him waiting by the door, dressed sharply in a casual outfit.

"You ready?" he asked, his voice steady despite the chaos of the morning.

"Yeah. Let’s go!" I said, grabbing his arm as we rushed back to the car and sped toward school.

---

The field was already bustling with activity when we arrived, the energy of Foundation Day in full swing. As we hurried across the field, I could feel dozens of eyes on us, whispers trailing in our wake.

"Why are they running together?" "Isn’t that Jungkook?" "What’s going on?"

I ignored the murmurs, my focus solely on making it to the stage in time.

"Okay, just sit there!" I pointed to a chair in the front row near the stage, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Jungkook nodded, taking the seat as I hurried backstage.

Minutes before my speech, the student council president found me, her arms crossed and her expression tense.

"What was that?" she hissed, her voice low but accusatory. "Why were you with Jungkook again?"

"Just... please," I said, my voice weary. "I’m exhausted. Can we not do this right now?"

She narrowed her eyes but said nothing more, stepping aside as my name was called.

Taking a deep breath, I walked onto the stage, my heels clicking against the polished wood as I approached the podium. The field quieted as all eyes turned toward me.

I smiled warmly, gathering my thoughts before speaking.

"Good morning, everyone! Honorable principal, respected teachers, esteemed guests, fellow students, and everyone gathered here today, it is an honor to stand before you on this remarkable occasion, our school’s 14th Foundation Day.

Today, we celebrate not just the number of years but the legacy of excellence, growth, and community that has brought us to this moment.

Foundation Day is not just about celebrating the past; it is about envisioning the future. Let us take this opportunity to commit ourselves to uphold the values of our school and work together to make it an even better place. Let’s aim higher, support one another, and leave a legacy for the generations to come.

Thank you, and happy Foundation Day!"

I finished with a smile, my voice steady and confident. The crowd erupted into applause, and the energy was electric as cheers filled the air.

As I stepped back from the podium, scanning the crowd, my gaze landed on one person.

Jungkook.

He was seated exactly where I had told him to sit, his eyes locked on mine. His lips curved into a small, proud smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

For a moment, the chaos of the morning, the lingering hurt, and the whispers of the crowd all faded. It was just him and me.

With my heart feeling lighter than it had in days, I left the stage, exchanging one last look with him before disappearing backstage.

It was a few hours after the speech when Jungkook found me, tugging me gently by the wrist to lead me somewhere private. We stopped in a quiet corner of the campus, away from peoples eyes and curious whispers.

"Look, I want to explain everything," he started, his voice unsteady but determined.

I crossed my arms, tilting my head as I waited for him to continue.

"Taehyung my friend did a really stupid bet," he began, his words spilling out like he’d been rehearsing them. "He said if I could get you to like me, I’d win a hundred bucks. But during the bet, I realized..." He hesitated, running a hand through his hair nervously. "I realized I wanted you too- fuck- no, I loved you too-"

I cut him off with a raised eyebrow and a small, amused chuckle. "Who said I loved you too?"

Jungkook froze, his mouth slightly agape, before I waved him off with a smile. "Okay, sorry. Go on," I said, letting him finish.

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine. "At first, I really just wanted to win the bet. But the longer it went on, the more..." He trailed off, his hands gesturing helplessly. "My brain just went blank-crazy every time I looked at you. I enjoyed teasing you, making you mad at me, just so you’d keep talking to me. And I really, really am so sorry for everything. for making you feel betrayed, sad, confused-"

He looked down, his voice quieter now. "I can’t believe it took something as stupid as this bet to make me realize what I felt about you." A weak chuckle escaped his lips.

I softened slightly, watching him as he fidgeted.

Jungkook reached out, gently taking my hand in his. "I have to admit... at first, I was ashamed." He hesitated, his gaze flickering up to meet mine. "Ashamed of being friends with the VP. I was a coward, scared of something I couldn’t even explain. But now? All I want to do is kiss you in front of everyone and let them judge us."

His words hung in the air, heavy with vulnerability and sincerity.

I gave him a small smile, shaking my head. "Kissing me in public would only make the rumors worse, Jungkook. It could get us in trouble for committing inappropriate acts at school, you know," I said with a teasing edge, my lips curving into a grin.

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Also," he added, his voice softer now, "the hot, smart girlfriend I was talking about to my brother..." He paused, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It was you."

I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head. "Who said I was your girlfriend?"

His head snapped up, his face a mixture of confusion and panic. "Huh?"

"You can’t just hurt me like that and think you’ll get it easily," I said with a smirk, my eyes sparkling with mischief.

Realization dawned on his face, and he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You’ll have to earn me again," I added, turning my gaze away from him, pretending to inspect my nails.

Jungkook laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. "Alright. I deserve that."

"Also, you can’t get both," I continued, my grin widening. "So, give me the hundred bucks."

He blinked at me, then burst out laughing. "Alright, fine. I’ll Venmo it to you later," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Then, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Can I kiss you?"

I leaned back just a little, raising an eyebrow. "Too fast," I teased, scrunching my nose playfully.

Instead, I offered him my hand. He smiled, taking it and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it, his eyes never leaving mine.

drabbles?

this is literally a rushed lazy fic cuz i was bored. crazy i even made it to 14k word count

will be making a jks pov ver named "number 1 party anthem" tihii.

this isn't actually proof read sooo yeah just tell me what i missed.

[rootedinrevisions]

Since Forever

SUMMARY: After a harrowing near-death experience in the sky when a routine training exercise goes wrong, you and Jake are forced to confront the unspoken tension that's always simmered between you. With a crash landing and a moment that changes everything, the line between squadmates and something more begins to blur.

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this request in! I'm sorry it's been like 3 weeks since you sent it in, but hopefully, it's worth the wait! Hope you enjoy it! xx

WARNINGS: Angst, Mutual Pining, Plane Crash (Smoke, Impact, Head Injury, Blood), Cussing

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The dry California air carried the hum of activity on the tarmac, the heat shimmering in waves off the asphalt as you stood in your flight suit, clipboard in hand. The roar of jets echoed in the background, a familiar symphony you’d grown accustomed to over the years. North Island was as bustling as ever, a mix of old faces and new ones prepping for the upcoming training exercises.

You were focused on your pre-flight checks, meticulously going over every detail on your clipboard. Attention to detail had always been your strong suit, something that had earned you respect in the cockpit and plenty of snide comments from one particular squad mate.

“Still babysitting that clipboard, Ace?”

You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Jake “Hangman” Seresin’s voice was unmistakable—smooth, cocky, and always laced with that infuriating Texan drawl.

“Still babysitting your ego, Bagman?” you shot back without missing a beat, your eyes remaining on your checklist.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him saunter closer, his helmet tucked under one arm, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Jake had a way of walking that oozed confidence, like he owned every space he entered. It was both maddening and, if you were honest with yourself, slightly impressive.

“Touché,” he drawled, stopping a few feet away. “But seriously, Ace, you’ve been doing this long enough to know the damn thing’s not going to sprout wings and fly off without you.”

You finally glanced up, arching a brow at him. “Says the guy who spent fifteen minutes arguing with the crew chief yesterday about the ‘perfect’ alignment of his seat harness.”

“That’s called being thorough,” Jake replied, unfazed. “You should try it sometime.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to your jet. “Is there something you actually need, or are you just here to be a pain in my ass?”

Jake’s grin widened. “Can’t a guy check in on his favorite squad mate?”

“Favorite?” you echoed, snorting. “You must be losing your touch, Hangman. Last time I checked, I was the one gunning for top marks on this run.”

“That’s what makes you my favorite,” he said smoothly, his tone dropping just enough to make your stomach do a small, unwelcome flip.

You hated how he could do that—how he could make the simplest comment sound like it was loaded with a thousand unspoken things. It was part of the tension that had simmered between you two for years, a strange, undefined thing neither of you had ever acknowledged out loud.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” you replied, setting your clipboard down. “I’ve got a jet to fly, and you’ve got an ego to stroke somewhere else.”

Jake tilted his head, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “Careful, Ace. One of these days, that sharp tongue of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

You stepped closer, narrowing your eyes at him as you adjusted the strap on your helmet. “And one of these days, Seresin, you’re going to realize that not everyone is impressed by your southern charm.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a standoff, the air crackling with the kind of tension that was all too familiar between the two of you. Then Jake stepped back, a soft chuckle escaping him as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Fair enough,” he said, his grin still firmly in place. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He turned and started walking toward his jet, his gait as cocky as ever. You shook your head, exhaling slowly as you tried to refocus on the task at hand.

Damn him.

Even now, years after you’d first met, Jake Seresin still had the ability to get under your skin in a way no one else could. And despite the irritation bubbling in your chest, you couldn’t entirely shake the small, secret part of you that liked it.

* * * *

The sky was a perfect blue—no clouds, just an endless expanse stretching out in front of you. It was supposed to be a simple exercise, just another day in the air, but your instincts had been nagging at you all morning. Something felt off.

You were flying at full throttle, running through the mission parameters, your fingers lightly grazing the controls as you focused on the task at hand. In the distance, you could see Jake’s jet—smooth and precise, cutting through the air just like always. You kept your distance, the tension between you two still palpable, even miles above the earth.

Then, without warning, the engine sputtered.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, eyes flicking to the gauges. The warning lights blinked red, and your stomach dropped like a stone. The engine—your primary engine—locked up.

“Ace, you copy?” The crackling voice of your Captain came through your comms, sharp and urgent. “What’s your status?”

You took a steadying breath, trying to keep your pulse under control. The jet was starting to lose altitude, slowly at first, but it wasn’t going to be slow for long.

“Engine’s locked,” you said, voice tight. You glanced down at your instruments again, hoping for a miracle. “I’m losing power. Going down.”

 Jake’s voice exploded through your earpiece. “Don’t do anything stupid, Ace. You hear me? Eject if you have to!”

The words felt like a slap in the face. He was always the first one to play the hero, always telling you what to do like you were some rookie.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Seresin,” you snapped, teeth gritting as you struggled to maintain control. You banked hard to the left, trying to level out, but the jet was sluggish—too sluggish. It was dropping faster now, and the ground was coming up at you way too quickly. “I’m not ejecting.”

“I said—” Jake’s voice broke through again, but you could already hear the Captain cutting him off.

“Ace, listen to me. You have two options right now,” the Captain said, his tone firm, no room for negotiation. “Eject, or try to bring her in. But you don’t have much altitude left.”

You had a split second to make a choice. The sky was shrinking, the earth creeping closer with every heartbeat. Your mind raced—ejecting would be easy, sure. But it would cost you the plane, and it would mean another mission down the drain. And there was always that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you had to rely on someone else to pull you from the wreckage.

You focused, blocking out the voices in your comms, focusing on the controls, on what you could do.

You had one good engine. It wasn’t ideal, but you had just enough altitude to make a hard landing. If you timed it right.

“I’m landing this bird,” you said, your voice steely with determination. You could feel the sweat building under your helmet, your pulse pounding in your ears, but your hands were steady. “I’ve got this.”

“Ace!” Jake’s voice came again, a mix of frustration and panic threading through his words. “You don’t have the altitude—”

“Shut up, Seresin,” you cut him off, your jaw clenched as you took a deep breath. The ground was closing in fast now, the harsh reality of the situation crashing over you. You had seconds to decide how you were going to do this. You could almost hear your heartbeat in your throat as you worked the throttle, pushing the remaining engine to its limits.

“Ace, eject now!” Jake was practically shouting now, but you didn’t have the time to argue. You were already lining up the rough terrain, calculating the risks in your head. You’d done it before—this was just another challenge to overcome. “If you crash—”

“I said I’ve got this!” you growled, pushing the throttle forward and making a last-ditch effort to pull the jet back into some semblance of control.

The sound of the engine was sickening now, almost wheezing, but it was still holding on. You could feel the nose of the plane dip, and you knew it was time. There was no turning back now.

You aimed for the small strip of flat ground, mentally calculating the distance between you and the crash site, praying to every deity that you could pull this off.

The jet dropped faster.

Your stomach lurched.

You could hear the voices of your team—your Captain—fading in the background, their instructions turning into static. All you could hear now was the roar of the engine, your breath, and the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears.

And then the wheels hit the earth. It was harder than you expected. The jet groaned under the strain, the fuselage screeching as you fought for control. The wheels bounced once, twice, and the jet jerked to the side as you fought the controls with everything you had left. The impact was brutal. You slammed into the seat, the world going black for a split second before your mind jolted back into reality.

Your head throbbed, a sharp pain searing behind your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but everything felt off. Dizzy. The pain was sharp, but you couldn’t focus on it now.

Your hands still gripped the controls like you were trying to hold the whole world together. You could feel the tension in your neck, the tremor in your hands.

And then, the voice you hadn’t realized you were waiting for came through your comms, strained and desperate:

“Ace, talk to me. Are you okay?”

You were silent for a moment, trying to find your bearings. The crash had knocked the wind out of you, but you had to focus. You had to focus.

“I’m... fine,” you gritted out. Your vision was blurry, your head swimming, but you needed to keep it together. “I just need to—”

The world went black for a few moments. The crash had been rough, everything moving too fast, and then you were suddenly weightless, disoriented, and struggling to remember how you had even ended up in this situation. The impact had jarred you, rattling your body so hard you weren’t sure which way was up. The cockpit was filled with smoke, the once-pristine view of the sky now replaced by the harsh, metallic scent of burning fuel.

You could hear the sounds of the control tower in your headset, distant voices now muffled and indistinct. Your head throbbed, dizziness clouding your thoughts. Something was wrong—you were wrong—but the panic started to subside as your mind tried to latch onto something, anything familiar.

The sound of a plane's engines revving pierced the air, and that was when you realized you weren’t alone anymore. Jake's voice cut through the haze.

"Stay with me, Ace, I’m almost there" he barked, his tone uncharacteristically sharp, the usual cocky bravado gone. His voice was full of urgency, tight with a level of fear you hadn’t expected to hear.

You managed to open your eyes, the world around you spinning, but through the haze, you saw his plane descending in the distance—he was landing, landing without permission. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing he was disregarding protocol to get to you.

Within seconds, Jake's jet was on the ground, its wheels screeching as it touched down, and he was already sprinting toward you. There was no waiting for rescue teams, no giving orders. It was just him, and you.

Your chest was tight, your breath shallow, and for a brief moment, you wondered if it was all just a nightmare. Then, through the haze of your spinning mind, Jake’s face appeared—his eyes wide, his expression frantic as he reached the wreckage.

Without hesitation, he pulled open the hatch, the cockpit door groaning under the force. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste a second. He carefully pulled your helmet off of you. His eyes moving to the blood that was caused from the impact. His hands then started working to undo your harness, fingers shaking as he snapped the straps free, pulling you into his arms before you could even comprehend what was happening.

His breath was frantic, like he was holding it in, waiting for some kind of confirmation that you were really there. That you were still alive. And in that moment, as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, the world started to stabilize. Your breath came in shaky gasps, your head pounding as the dizziness slowly began to fade.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from your brain. The weight of your body felt heavier than normal, your limbs still stiff from the crash. But it wasn’t just your body that felt like it was slowing down—it was your mind. Everything was racing too fast, the adrenaline still pushing you into action, but in Jake’s arms, there was a moment of stillness. A second where nothing mattered but the fact that you were safe.

"Don’t you ever do that again," Jake muttered, his voice trembling despite the tough exterior he always wore. His words hit you harder than any of the physical pain, and you felt a strange, overwhelming wave of emotion rush through you. It was as though all the walls you’d both built over the years had crumbled with one unspoken truth. Jake was scared, and in this moment, it wasn’t about flying, or missions, or protocols. It was about you.

You barely registered that you were leaning into him, your chest falling against his as you came back to yourself, your body reacting without thinking, your mind still spinning. His hands were gently running over your back, soothing you, grounding you, even though you could feel the anxiety still vibrating through him.

“J-Jake,” you stuttered.

"I'm here. I’ve got you." His words were a soft mantra, repeated over and over as if he needed to hear them as much as you did.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog. 

“I... I’m fine,” you said, your voice shaky as you pulled away slightly, lifting your head from his chest. But the moment you tried to step back, you felt his arms tighten, keeping you close. The intensity in his gaze was enough to make you stop moving entirely.

“No, you’re not fine,” he shot back, his voice low but full of conviction. His hands still rested on your back, holding you steady, like he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. He wasn’t just holding you. He was holding you like he was terrified of losing you.  “You scared the hell out of me, Ace.”

You swallowed, feeling a weight in your chest you hadn’t been prepared for. The vulnerability in his words was jarring. He had never let his guard down like this before. But there it was—raw, unfiltered concern.

The words stuck in your throat, but somehow you found yourself meeting his gaze, feeling the space between you two close, the tension palpable. 

"Since when did you ever care about me like that?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, more of a breathless thought than anything.

Jake froze, his hand still on your arm as he stared at you, his jaw tight, eyes searching yours. For a moment, the world felt suspended in that one breath between you two. He didn’t back away. Instead, his face softened, his expression caught between frustration and something deeper, something he wasn’t saying.

“Since fucking forever, you idiot,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion, almost a growl.

Jake stepped closer, his hand slipping from your arm to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the skin there in a rare, intimate gesture. The contact sent a jolt through you, and suddenly, nothing about this situation felt like just another close call. This felt like something else entirely. Something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

“I thought I was gonna lose you today,” Jake murmured, his voice low, steady now but still thick with emotion. His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “I can’t lose you, Ace. I don’t think I’d make it.”

The weight of his words landed heavily in your chest. The truth between you two was finally out, raw and real. You swallowed, trying to hold back the lump in your throat.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jake,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Not without you.”

Jake sighed and then asked you again, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice softer now. You still felt the ache in your head, the sharp sting in your chest, but it wasn’t nearly as important as the way Jake was looking at you now.

His hands slid down your back, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You could see his jaw clench, the words stuck somewhere between his teeth, and then he shook his head.

“Are you? You sure as hell didn’t look fine in that damn cockpit,” he muttered, his voice low and tight. “You could’ve—You’re the closest thing I’ve got to family out here, Ace," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I... I don’t know what I’d do without you." His words were a stark contrast to the cocky bravado he usually carried. This was real, and it was raw. "You don’t get to put me through that again, got it?"

You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast it felt like it might explode in your chest. All the tension, all the unspoken things that had hung between you two for years, were now laid bare in the open. There was no hiding anymore. No pretending like you didn’t feel it, too.

“Jake…” you started, but the words wouldn’t come. 

Instead, you pulled him down into a kiss—soft at first, tentative, but it was as if something broke open between you. You felt the fear, the relief, the longing all tangled up in that moment. His lips moved against yours, a little desperate, a little shaky, but it was real.

When you pulled away, you were both breathing heavy, eyes still locked, both of you trying to process what had just happened.

“I don’t know what this is, Jake,” you whispered, your voice trembling just slightly.

“I don’t either,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair as if trying to pull himself together.

The words hung between you two, thick with meaning. You didn’t know what was going to happen next, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe you didn’t need to figure it out all at once.

You both stayed there, in the middle of the wreckage, still alive, still here—and for the first time in a long time, that was enough.

But then, all too soon, reality crashes back in.

A voice from outside the cockpit, sharp and professional, cuts through the intimacy of the moment like a splash of cold water.

“Hangman! Ace!” The search and rescue team has arrived, and the urgency in their voice snaps Jake out of his daze. “We need to get them out of there, now. Base is requesting immediate transport.”

Jake pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to steady himself. His hand still lingers on your waist, the warmth of it grounding you, but his eyes betray a hesitation—reluctance to let go of the moment.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here, Ace,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself as much as to you.

You nod, feeling your heart hammering again, but for a different reason now. His gaze softens, and there’s a flash of something unspoken between you—a promise, maybe. You can’t quite find the words for it, but you feel it deep in your bones.

The medics are waiting outside, and with one final, reluctant glance at you, Jake starts to lift you away from the cockpit. With his steady presence, and one arm around your waist, he helps you out of the cockpit.

“Easy now,” he murmurs as he guides you down, keeping you close to his chest as if he can’t bear to let you out of his arms just yet. “Take it slow.”

As soon as your feet touch the ground, the search and rescue team rushes to assist you, but Jake doesn't let go immediately. His fingers linger on your arm, his gaze flicking between you and the team as if he’s weighing something—like he’s not quite ready to leave you in someone else’s hands. He hesitates, looking like he wants to say something, but the team is already ushering you toward the waiting helicopter.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, voice firm.

“Jake, you don’t have to—” you start, but he interrupts, his tone brokering no argument.

“No. I’m staying with you.”

The hum of the helicopter’s blades is loud against your ears, but everything else seems muffled as you lie back on the stretcher, still reeling from the crash and the kiss that’s left a strange warmth in your chest. The medics are busy around you, but you can barely focus on them, your mind still racing, spinning from the events of the last few minutes.

The moment Jake climbs in beside you, his presence fills the space. He doesn't hesitate, sitting down next to your stretcher and taking your hand immediately, his fingers curling around yours like it's the only thing tethering him to reality. His face is tight with worry, but the way he holds your hand gives you a strange sense of comfort, something steady amidst the chaos.

The medics move quickly, checking your vitals and assessing your condition, but you can barely register it, your heart still thumping in your chest as the adrenaline from the crash ebbs away, leaving you exhausted. One of the medics starts to remove your flight suit, carefully peeling it off your shoulders to get a better look at any possible injuries, leaving you in nothing but a thin tank top that clings to your skin.

You feel exposed, vulnerable, as the cool air brushes against your skin. It’s an unsettling feeling, but Jake’s hand is still in yours, and when the medic starts to prod at your ribs, you squeeze his hand instinctively, a shiver running down your spine.

“Hey,” Jake murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he leans in closer, his gaze never leaving you. “Focus on me, okay? Look at me.”

His voice is calm, reassuring, and even though you're still reeling, his presence is grounding you, pulling you out of the haze of discomfort and medical poking. His thumb rubs small circles over the back of your hand as the medic continues his examination, but Jake doesn't flinch. He doesn't pull away.

“Just look at me,,” Jake repeats, his voice steady. “You’re fine. I’m here.”

You manage to meet his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze sends a strange warmth flooding through you, cutting through the nervousness. In this moment, it’s just you and him, as if the rest of the world has faded away. You want to say something—tell him that you're okay, that you don’t need all this attention—but the words get lost in your throat.

Instead, you hold onto him tighter, needing him to keep you tethered, to keep you from feeling so exposed and raw.

The medic moves on to checking your head, and you wince at the touch, the sting of pain making you flinch. Jake immediately leans forward, his hand tightening around yours as he shifts closer.

“Easy, Ace,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. Focus on me. That’s it.”

You nod, trying to focus on his words, trying to push the discomfort and the questions swirling in your mind to the back of your head. His presence is like a lifeline. His voice is the one thing that makes you feel like you’re not alone in this. Like you're not just another casualty.

“Once they’re done poking and prodding, we’re going to get you something strong to drink,” Jake says softly, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile as his thumb brushes against your hand once more. “And I’m not talking about water. I’m thinking something a little more... celebratory.”

A part of you wants to laugh, but you're too exhausted, too wired from the whole experience. Still, there's a glimmer of something in Jake’s eyes now, something more than just the mission or the tension between you. There’s something new in his gaze, like a shift, and you feel it too—this unspoken understanding between you both that things are different now.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?" you murmur, your voice hoarse from the adrenaline. "One minute, you're flying like a maniac, and the next, you're talking about taking me out for a drink like it's a... date."

Jake’s grin widens slightly, the kind of smile that only happens when he’s completely unguarded. “I’m thinking it’s more than a date, Ace,” he replies, squeezing your hand again. “Maybe it’s a... celebration. You know, to celebrate you not getting yourself killed.”

His tone is playful, but there’s something real behind it, a tenderness that wasn’t there before. Something that’s been waiting to come to the surface for a long time.

The helicopter ride drags on as the medics continue their work, but Jake stays by your side the entire time, never letting go of your hand, his steady presence like a quiet promise that he’s not going anywhere. His words from earlier echo in your mind, and you realize that, for the first time, you don’t feel alone. Not with him here. Not after everything you’ve been through.

When you finally land back at base, you’re still a little shaky, but the thought of what Jake said—of what he hinted at—keeps you grounded, keeps you looking forward to what comes next, whatever that is.

[creamflix]

part two here

it wasn’t in words, and it certainly wasn’t in grand gestures, but it was there — woven into the quiet corners of your shared life, stitched into the routines neither of you ever admitted to.

you and sukuna didn’t do “romantic.” there were no declarations, no flowery exchanges. hell, you’d scoff at the idea if anyone even suggested it.

but the love was there, silent and stubborn, like the both of you.

you noticed it when you went to grab your shampoo one morning, only to find it full again. sukuna’s brand was there too, lined up neatly beside yours on the shower ledge. when you confronted him about it, towel still wrapped around your hair, he grunted without looking up from his phone.

"wasn’t me," he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching like he knew he was lying.

"right," you’d said, narrowing your eyes. "guess the shampoo fairy came by then."

his response was a noncommittal shrug, but his smirk gave him away.

it was the same when you went to make coffee. his mug was already sitting by the machine, his preferred dark roast brewing without a word exchanged. you didn’t think much of it until you caught him doing the same for you — setting out your mug, pouring it just the way you liked, even when you hadn’t asked.

"don’t make it a habit," he grumbled one morning, catching your amused look as he handed you the steaming cup.

"me?" you teased, blowing over the rim of the mug. "you’re the one making coffee every morning, sukuna."

"tch. don’t flatter yourself," he shot back, though his ears reddened faintly.

then there was laundry day, your least favorite day of the week. sukuna always got to the clothes hanger first, hauling the weight of damp fabric without complaint. he didn’t ask you to help, didn’t even look at you while he did it. but every time, without fail, you’d find yourself ironing, smoothing out the wrinkles he’d leave behind as he tossed shirts into the basket.

"if you’re gonna do it, do it right," you’d gripe, gliding the iron over one of his dark button-ups.

he’d glance at you over his shoulder, one brow arched. "then stop fixing it if it’s so bad."

"maybe i will."

but you didn’t, and he knew you wouldn’t.

there was a rhythm to it all, unspoken but understood. sukuna wasn’t one for sentimental displays, and neither were you, but your actions betrayed you both.

when you stocked his favorite snacks in the pantry or folded his socks the way he liked, it was a silent "i love you."

when he hung your coat by the door after you forgot it again or shoved an umbrella into your hand before you left for work, it was the same.

still, the thought of anyone pointing it out was unbearable.

"you two are cute," a friend dared to say once, watching as sukuna passed you the soy sauce before you even asked.

"shut up," you both snapped in unison, faces heating simultaneously as you turned away from each other.

but later that night, when he set his phone down and you leaned your head against his shoulder, neither of you spoke a word.

love didn’t need to be loud. not when it was tucked into every small, stubborn act you did for each other.

you and sukuna weren’t the type to hold hands in public or plaster your relationship across social media. “weird, couple-y shit” was beneath the both of you — at least, that’s what you told yourselves. you didn’t need to broadcast anything when the proof lived in the details, subtle and quiet, but undeniable all the same.

it was in the way you’d casually grab his jacket before heading out, draping it over your shoulders like it belonged to you. and the way he’d let you, even when he’d grumble about it under his breath.

"that’s mine, you know," he’d mutter as you adjusted the sleeves.

"looks better on me," you’d shoot back, smirking.

he’d roll his eyes, but he didn’t argue. instead, the next time you reached for his jacket, he’d already pulled it out for you.

and then there was the jewelry. you’d notice him wearing your ring on his pinky sometimes, spinning it absently while he worked through emails. or your earrings — simple studs he’d shamelessly tuck into his pocket before heading out, claiming he needed “a little flair.”

"didn’t know you were into accessorizing," you teased once, leaning against the doorframe as he adjusted the earring in the mirror.

"you wear my shit all the time," he replied flatly, glancing at you with that deadpan expression he’d mastered. "fair’s fair."

you had no comeback for that, though your smile lingered long after he left.

even when apart, there were echoes of each other in your days.

commuting to work, you’d pop on the playlist he’d made — a perfect blend of your favorite tracks and his, the 99.5% compatibility a badge of reluctant pride. you’d sit on the train, listening to a song he swore you’d love, and hate how much you did.

he wasn’t immune, either. on those rare days he missed you (not that he’d ever admit it), he’d scroll through your spotify history to see what you’d been listening to lately. or he’d catch sight of flowers in a shop window, lingering just a moment too long on the ones he knew were your favorite before moving on.

you both had your quirks when you were alone, too. sometimes, without thinking, your hand would drift to your arm, tracing soft patterns into your skin the way sukuna did. when you realized it, you’d roll your eyes at yourself, muttering under your breath.

"idiot," you’d say, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you.

sukuna was no better. he’d catch himself staring out his office window, the song you’d sent him last week playing faintly through his headphones. it annoyed him how much it made him think of you, but he never turned it off.

when the two of you finally came home, words weren’t needed. all of it — the small acts, the quiet thoughts, the unspoken gestures — culminated in that one hug.

his arms would wrap around you, firm and grounding, while yours slipped around his waist. the tension from your day melted instantly, replaced by the warmth of his body pressed against yours. neither of you said anything — there wasn’t anything to say.

it was all understood in the way his hands lingered on your back, or how you buried your face against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent.

"miss me?" you’d ask eventually, the words muffled against his shirt.

"nah," he’d lie, but his hold on you would tighten, giving him away.

and that was enough. no declarations, no theatrics — just the quiet assurance of being known, cared for, and loved.

it was a question you’d gotten more times than you could count.

are you sure you two are dating? they’d ask, with raised brows and skeptical tones, watching as you and sukuna bickered over the smallest things.

the answer wasn’t straightforward, because how do you explain a relationship built on years of chaotic familiarity, on the kind of comfort only two people who’d clashed and tangled relentlessly could find?

you still remembered that first day of college, sitting in class and thinking you’d never met someone more insufferable. sukuna was loud, cocky, and so obnoxiously confident it made your skin crawl. he’d snorted at something you’d said during a group discussion, and you’d fired back with a sarcastic quip, the tension between you sparking like a live wire.

"you think you’re so clever, huh?" he’d sneered, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair.

"clever enough to know you’re full of shit," you’d snapped without missing a beat.

it was war from then on. you couldn’t stand how he seemed to revel in getting under your skin, and he hated how competitive you were, always ready to one-up him in any way possible.

and yet, somehow, you two ended up spending more time together than anyone else.

"just here to keep you humble," he’d say, leaning against the doorway of your dorm, that smug grin never leaving his face.

"please, you’re the one who needs the humbling," you’d reply, throwing a pillow at him before grabbing your keys for yet another midnight drive.

it wasn’t all bad, though. between the insults and the relentless teasing, something softened. there were the early morning drives when neither of you could sleep, windows down as you cruised through empty streets, sharing playlists like it wasn’t a big deal.

or the smoke sessions on campus, crouched behind the library where no one could see, only to promise each other, "never again," when you got caught and barely avoided trouble.

halloween was a different kind of tradition. every year, like clockwork, you’d drag him to the drive-in theater, claiming it was the only acceptable way to celebrate. he’d complain the whole way there, grumbling about how cheesy the movies were, but he never once turned you down.

by the time graduation rolled around, something had shifted. the teasing got softer, the jabs less pointed. still, when he finally snapped at you — yelling at you on the quad about how you were "impossible to deal with" — you’d been too stunned to realize he was confessing in the only way he knew how.

"you make me insane," he’d blurted, running a hand through his hair, exasperated. "i can’t stand you, but — god, i like you, okay? you happy now?"

it had taken you a moment to process his words, mostly because you were yelling back, equally frustrated. "you’re the worst! how do you even think this is a confession?!"

but somehow, in all that chaos, you figured it out.

now, years later, the bickering hadn’t stopped, but it had softened into something comforting. you still got on each other’s nerves, but it was different. familiar. the sound of him complaining about your cooking or you groaning about his laundry habits was just another layer to the life you’d built together.

there were no more impulsive smoke sessions or late-night drives — well, not as often — but there were groceries to split, bills to argue over, and an apartment to share.

"you left your stupid socks on the couch again," you called from the living room, holding up the offending pair.

"and you stole my hoodie again," he shot back, strolling in and snatching the socks from your hand.

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. this was it — your version of love. messy, chaotic, and wrapped in years of banter and care.

and honestly? you wouldn’t change a thing.

you heard the whispers sometimes, muffled through the walls or passed between neighbors as you walked by.

“failed relationship.”

the words always carried a judgmental edge, laced with the kind of smug certainty that only came from people who had no idea what they were talking about. you’d scoff and roll your eyes, but the audacity of it stuck with you. all because you and sukuna weren’t the quiet, overly sweet, hand-holding kind? pathetic.

what did they know?

they hadn’t seen the nights when sukuna held you close while you bawled into his chest, a miserable mess of cramps and hormones. they didn’t know how he tried — really tried — to be supportive, offering hot packs and snacks, his voice gruff but oddly gentle.

"here," he’d say, shoving chocolate into your hand like it was some kind of peace offering.

but then, because he couldn’t help himself, he’d ruin it.

"are you seriously crying over a commercial?" he’d ask, incredulous, pointing at the tv.

and just like that, the tears doubled. "you’re the worst!" you’d sob, throwing a pillow at him.

he’d groan, clearly out of his depth, but he never let you go. instead, he’d mutter something about how “women are terrifying” while holding you tighter, stroking your hair even as you blubbered into his shirt.

the neighbors weren’t there to see him the morning after you’d had one too many at a party. you barely remembered stumbling into the apartment, but sukuna had already set up everything you’d need: water, painkillers, even that greasy breakfast sandwich you craved when hungover.

"drink this," he’d bark, shoving a glass of water into your hands while you groaned pathetically on the couch.

"you’re too loouuud," you’d whine, shielding your eyes from the light.

"and you’re a lightweight," he’d fire back, but his hands were already pulling a blanket over you. "don’t do it again."

the thing was, he didn’t have to do any of it. but he did. without complaint.

well, not much of one, anyway.

and what about how he was your parents’ favorite? your mom still gushed about how thoughtful he was, always showing up with her favorite flowers, and your dad kept every sports magazine sukuna brought him, flipping through them like they were rare treasures.

"he’s such a nice boy," your mom would say, sighing dreamily.

you’d gag every time. "nice is a stretch, ma."

but deep down, you got it. sukuna had this way of worming his way into people’s lives, even if he’d grumble the whole time about how annoying it was. it wasn’t sweet in the traditional sense, but it was undeniably him.

and no, you didn’t owe anyone an explanation for your relationship. it wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t have to be. love wasn’t always quiet or polite, and yours had sharp edges and biting remarks, but it was yours.

“you think we’re a failed relationship?” you’d said to him once, smirking as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

he glanced up from the fridge, holding a beer. “what idiot said that?”

“mrs. tanaka next door. apparently, yelling means we’re doomed.”

he snorted, taking a swig. “old hag wouldn’t know love if it bit her.”

“so biting is love, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“depends,” he said, stepping closer, a sharp grin spreading across his face. “you complaining?”

you rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “you're a weirdo.”

and maybe he was, but he was also yours — your college sweetheart, your partner, the guy who sometimes bit you because he thought it was funny. and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way.

sukuna heard it all the time — questions dripping with disbelief, laced with a kind of awe that annoyed the hell out of him. his coworkers couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around it, and his friends from college still brought it up every chance they got.

"seriously, man," one of them had said during a reunion, leaning across the table. "how the hell did you end up with her?"

and sukuna, being the smug bastard he was, never missed the chance to milk it.

"what can i say?" he’d say, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed with that stupid grin. "she couldn’t resist me. practically yelled it out in the quad, begging me to date her."

"that is not what happened," you’d hiss later when he relayed the same story to you.

"oh, but it’s so much better my way," he’d reply, dodging the cushion you chucked at his head.

but if sukuna ever sat down and told them the truth — not the exaggerated bullshit, but the real story — they probably wouldn’t believe him anyway.

because how could he explain the chaos of falling for someone as maddening and stubborn as you, and how he wouldn’t trade it for anything?

he liked how you had this streak of righteousness that made you storm up to people in public settings.

like that one time at a café, when a customer had been rude to the barista. sukuna had barely registered the situation before you were there, fire in your eyes and voice sharp as a blade.

"there’s no reason to be nasty," you’d said, crossing your arms in that way that made even him take a step back.

the rude customer had left with their tail between their legs, and sukuna couldn’t help the little smirk tugging at his lips.

"you’re scary when you’re like that, you know?" he’d said later, earning a glare that only made him like you more.

he liked how animals gravitated toward you like you were some kind of magnet. stray dogs would wag their tails, cats would nuzzle up to you, and there was even that one time with the trash raccoon.

"sukuna," you’d said that night, voice hushed but frantic, "look at him. he’s adorable."

"that’s a wild raccoon," he’d replied, deadpan.

but he still stayed outside with you until it wandered off, grumbling the whole time about how “only you” could make friends with literal wildlife.

he liked the way you’d dismiss other men with just a glare — sharp and unforgiving, the kind that sent a clear message. it wasn’t about jealousy; it was about how you made it crystal clear that you had standards, and none of them were worth your time.

and then there were the little things.

the way you’d offer your seat to someone who needed it, even after a long day at work.

or the way you’d make silly faces at kids across the room, their giggles a bright, unexpected melody in otherwise mundane settings.

he saw it all, even if he never said it out loud. sukuna wasn’t the type for big, flowery confessions. hell, he wasn’t even the type for small ones.

but sometimes, when he looked at you across the apartment — the same apartment you’d gotten for him as a gift — he felt it in his chest, a warmth he didn’t quite know how to put into words.

would he ever tell you? no chance in hell. he wasn’t about to ruin his reputation.

but sometimes, knowing was enough.

my pookie ( @curtins ) saw it first <3 this concept's been in my mind for a while and i finally got to write it. i'll be doing more oneshot drabbles like these, but you can leave few ideas or questions in my inbox if you'd like!!! thanks for reading produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

I Could Give You A Ride

✰ summary: would you want to give a ride to a bartender you randomly meet at a bar? oh, i think you do. but don't forget, it could end earlier than you expect!

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 (bartender!choso x fem!reader, alcohol use, mature language, drunk reader, kissing, neck kissing, tit sucking, reader is riding choso's fingers, quick ending because of choso's excitement lol)

✰ a little note: i originally planned a completely different ending, but i ended it in another way with this silly and funny idea that came to mind. i love my cute emo boy Choso <3

✰ word count: 3.4k

I guess it was about time.

Yes, it was definitely time, because you didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself back. Watching like a creep wasn’t an option anymore; you had to take action. That way, you could confirm your certification as an official creep.

But every time you hyped yourself up, telling yourself “I’m doing it now!” your enthusiasm would fizzle out, and you’d return to sipping your drink.

Why had you even come here in the first place?

After a long work week, you definitely deserved a drink. And, as luck would have it, the handsome and sweet bartender came as a bonus with great cocktails.

Sitting in the right corner of the wide bar, nursing your fourth mojito, and sneaking glances at the bartender, you couldn’t help the unnecessary fluttering inside you. It had all started last week when one of your close girlfriends discovered this place. It might’ve been a bit too quiet for a girls’ night out, but as long as you were gossiping, nothing else mattered.

One of your friends had been mid-sip when she suddenly froze, pointing toward the handsome bartender making drinks at the counter. You, along with the rest of your friends, had turned to stare, mouths agape, as he shook the cocktail shaker like a pro.

“Oh my God… I wish he’d shake me like that,” your friend had blurted.

Eyes still glued to the emo bartender behind the bar, you’d replied, “Since when are emos this hot?”

The shock of your words had been enough to grab all your friends’ attention because it had been ages since you’d expressed interest in anyone.

“I knew there was still hope! Finally, someone’s got you wet,” one of them teased.

Rolling your eyes, you’d shot back, “Girls I only said he’s hot, okay? Anyway, he can be as cute and attractive as he wants, but he’s definitely not someone I’d want to sleep with. Can we stop being creeps and get back to our girls’ night?”

Despite their reluctance, they’d agreed, and the evening had continued.

Of course, you wanted to sleep with him. That feeling had been there from the moment you first saw him. Ever since that girls’ night, all you could think about was that bartender going down on you, giving you orgasms over and over again.

As you racked your brain over how to return to this bar, you finally gave in to temptation and dragged yourself here on a Friday as a well-earned reward.

Sure, you wanted to see the hot emo bartender again, but the cocktail you were sipping was a nice bonus.

When you walked in, there had been empty tables around, but you’d chosen a seat at the bar instead. After all, you’d come here for one reason.

When you locked eyes with the bartender, he smiled at you and walked over, politely asking what you’d like. After ordering your mojito, you’d watched him intently as he prepared it.

The way he precisely measured the ingredients and poured them into the shaker, the way his tattooed, muscular arms flexed as he shook it—it had you pressing your thighs together, trying (and failing) to ease the ache between your legs.

Apparently, emos could be insanely attractive.

Lost in your admiration of the hot bartender, you’d snapped out of it when he placed your finished cocktail in front of you. Your eyes darted from the drink to him, noticing the self-assured smirk on his face as if he knew you’d been ogling him.

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you’d managed a flustered thank you before taking a sip. His smirk had only widened as he walked back to the center of the bar to prepare another drink.

The pattern repeated itself after that. You’d raise your empty glass for another order, he’d collect it with a smile, and you’d shamelessly ogle him as he made an even better mojito than the last.

How long could this go on? You weren’t sure. You wanted to talk to him, to get to know him, but the fear of rejection kept holding you back. It didn’t help that you hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone in ages, so your confidence was shot. Besides, he was working. Why would he stop everything to chat with you? It felt ridiculous.

Maybe the timing just wasn’t right. Or maybe you were just lying to yourself.

Lost in thought, you stared at the remnants of your mojito when a small shadow appeared in front of you. Lifting your head, you found yourself staring into a pair of beautifully lined eyes.

His face held a mix of a smile and an inquisitive expression, as if he were trying to figure you out. The woody scent of his cologne surrounded you, and whether it was the alcohol or not, the sight of his tattooed forearms peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves made him look extra tempting.

Had they been this good the first time you saw him? Oh, absolutely.

You wanted to take back everything you’d said last week because you definitely wanted to fuck him now.

“You don’t seem like you’re having much fun.”

You stood there speechless, continuing to stare at the bartender you found so attractive. When you finally managed to collect your words and decided to speak, you answered in a soft voice, “Uhmm, I don’t know.”

He laughed sincerely at your response. He’d smiled at you before, but hearing him chuckle like this stirred a completely different feeling inside you.

“Usually, people on their sixth drink are in party mode, but for you, it seems to be causing depression.”

You were never someone whose mood dropped when drinking. On the contrary, you became more cheerful and energetic. And yet, here you were, struggling not to press your lips against this emo bartender’s—

Wait. Did he say sixth drink? Because you were pretty sure you were just about to finish your fourth.

With a puzzled expression, you asked, “Sixth drink?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re on your sixth one now.”

Shit. There was no way you were drunk. Who even gets drunk on cocktails? Sure, six might be a bit much, but you’d definitely had more before.

Covering your face with your hands in embarrassment, you tried to process what had just happened. But that warm, masculine chuckle reached your ears again, and you slowly pulled your hands away to look at him.

“I should’ve stopped you after your fourth. I noticed your eyes starting to droop a little,” he said, his face showing a hint of concern. “Do you want me to get you some water?”

“Oh, no, thanks. Normally, I’m a pretty resilient drinker.”

“Sure, I can see that,” he teased, his tone playful and a little mocking.

His words stung a little, so you frowned and tried to prove your point. “I’m serious. I could have six glasses of whiskey and still be perfectly fine.”

Determined to show him you were still steady, you attempted to stand up—only to stumble slightly, prompting the sexy bartender to reach out and steady you.

His long, veiny arms reached across the bar to catch you, holding you firmly. And wow, how many tattoos did this man have?

“Jesus, you scared me, sweetheart.”

Plenty of people had called you “sweetheart” before, but you weren’t sure anyone had ever said it as beautifully as he just did.

“Your voice is so… soft.” You weren’t sure why you said that. You probably should’ve just thanked him for catching you, but instead, you blurted out whatever came to mind.

“If you sit back down on the stool, I can talk to you more. What do you say?”

Within a second, your drunk self processed his words and obediently sat back on the stool. All for the sake of hearing that soft, beautiful voice again.

“Okay, you can talk now, emo boy.”

“Huh! So you’ve already given me a nickname,” he said, leaning on the bar as he got closer to you. “Tell me, did you come up with it while secretly staring at me all this time?”

Well, so you weren’t a secret creep. Apparently, you were a very obvious one. At least that made you a little less terrifying. You felt your cheeks heat up. You didn’t know how he’d noticed you watching him, but in your drunken state, you gave the best response you could muster.

“Guess I’m not the only creep who likes staring at people.”

The handsome bartender’s cheeks flushed at your remark, and you let out a small laugh. There was nothing cuter than a flustered guy.

“You caught me, sweetheart.”

“What can I say? I love making handsome bartenders blush when I’m drunk.” Your hands found their way to his cheeks, gently caressing them. It felt like you were touching the softest thing in the world. He closed his eyes, seemingly enjoying your touch. But then his sharp voice broke the moment. “If you keep this up, I’ll bend you over this counter and fuck you so hard that make you scream loud enough to scare off all the customers.”

Your eyes widened in shock. That had to be your drunk mind playing tricks on you. There was no way he’d actually said that. You were just hearing what you wanted to hear.

“Okay,” you said, as if to reassure yourself of the truth.

“Okay?” he repeated, confused.

“I accept, emo boy.”

He let out a sweet laugh. “You accept me bending you over the bar and fucking you until you scream?”

“Uh-huh, exactly that.”

“I only said it so you’d sober up and realize what you’re doing, sweetheart.”

A small pang of disappointment hit you. No, scratch that—it was a huge pang of disappointment. For a second, you’d hoped he meant it, that he actually wanted you.

Sure, he could make amazing cocktails, but if he didn’t take the number-one bartender rule—never play with drunk customers—seriously, then he clearly wasn’t taking his job seriously either.

“Uh, I see. I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice low as you averted your gaze to the floor. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

“Shit, I—look, it’s 11:30 right now, and we close in half an hour. I can’t let you go home alone in this state, so please—”

You interrupted him, your tone tinged with irritation. “That’s not necessary. I can handle myself.” You pulled out your wallet, placed some money on the counter, and said, “The drinks were great. Have a good night.”

Fueled by your disappointment, you sobered up just enough to stand without stumbling and made your way to the exit.

But before you could leave, you felt a hand on your arm. Turning around, you locked eyes with the “cute, handsome, and deceitful bartender.” He looked at you with a sorrowful expression, like a wounded deer. He knew full well he’d hurt you.

Closing your eyes briefly, you let out a sigh and began to apologize for your unnecessary outburst. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m drunk and overreacting to everything. There was nothing wrong with what you said. I’m just a regular customer, and honestly, I shouldn’t have touched you like that in the first place. I’m really—”

“Please let me give you a ride home, sweetheart. I can’t let you go like this on your own.”

How could you say no to that? He looked like a sad puppy, waiting for your forgiveness. And as much as you wanted to storm off and leave, deep down, the thought of being out alone at this hour scared you.

“Waiting half an hour wouldn’t hurt,” you said, offering him a small smile.

The bartender seemed to understand that you’d let go of your anger, and he returned your smile. He guided you to a more comfortable seat in the lounge area and promised to finish up quickly so he could join you.

The seats were much softer here. Sure, you’d endured the hard barstool for the handsome bartender, but this felt like heaven. Setting your bag beside you and leaning back, you closed your eyes. You told yourself you’d just rest them for a moment. But you didn’t realize when sleep took over.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When you woke up, your eyes opened easily. The bar was dimly lit, with only a faint glow above the counter. The customers had left, and the handsome bartender was sitting on one of the stools, engrossed in his phone.

Why hadn’t he woken you up?

As you got up and walked toward him, he looked up from his phone and turned his gaze to you. That beautiful smile, which suited him so well, appeared on his face.

“Hey, you’re awake. I didn’t want to wake you, and I thought you could use the rest to sober up. Feeling better?”

He didn’t have to be this sweet. You silently swore to yourself that you’d never come here again, but his kindness only made you like him even more.

Taking a deep breath, you finally let out everything you’d been holding inside. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since I saw you last week. I came here today, using the excuse of treating myself, just to come here and see you again. I’m not good at this, and it makes me really nervous. You made it clear you’re not interested, but I still wanted to tell you how I feel, even if I never get to see you again.” By the time you finished speaking, you realized you were out of breath. You had blurted everything out in one go. You might’ve embarrassed yourself further, but at least you felt relieved.

“So, you’re saying you’re a professional creep?” His tone was anything but serious, and when you looked at him, you noticed the barely contained laughter on his face.

You started laughing, a mix of nerves and amusement, and nodded. Pulling your phone from your bag, you checked the time—12:30 AM.

“It’s late; I should—Hmph.” Your words were cut off by his lips pressing against yours. It wasn’t the first time you’d been interrupted tonight by him, but if all interruptions were like this, you’d gladly welcome them.

You dropped your phone and bag to the floor, letting your hands find their way to his long, black hair. The man in front of you kissed you with passion—not rushed, but deliberate, as if he’d been craving your lips all night.

When he grabbed your waist and lifted you, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him to carry you to the bar counter. His lips tasted of mint and strawberry.

Alright, you definitely needed to ask him about that lip balm later.

When he pulled back to catch his breath, you managed to speak. “I thought you weren’t interested in me?”

His light-colored eyes, framed by black eyeliner, stared at you guiltily. “Since the moment you sat on that stool, all I’ve wanted was to taste your lips.” His fingers brushed over your lips gently. “So fucking full and soft. I know the rest of you is just like this, sweetheart.”

As he leaned in to kiss you again, you stopped him, finally asking the question that had been on your mind since the moment you saw him. “Are you ever going to tell me your name, or are you planning to keep the mystery alive?”

He kissed you softly before pulling back. “Choso.”

“Hmmm, do you know what I’m thinking right now, Choso?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked in a low, husky voice.

“You’re going to give me a ride home tonight, but in return, I want to ride you too.”

His eyes widened, and even in the dim light, you could see his cheeks flush. For someone who looked so tough, he was surprisingly shy. Leaning into his ear, you whispered, “Will you let me?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, his earlier dominance now replaced with a more submissive tone.

“Then take me to the lounge area, Choso.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Choso carried you to the lounge. As he walked, you placed wet kisses along his neck, occasionally nibbling his skin, which earned soft groans from him.

When he sat down on the couch, he placed you on his lap. His hands found your breasts, kneading them gently, while his lips latched onto your neck. You weren’t sure which of his actions was more pleasurable—the way his lips sucked on the sensitive spots of your neck, or the way his fingers teased your nipples through your clothes.

Why choose when you could have both?

“Shit—Choso, this feels so good. Please… I don’t just want your fingers,” you moaned eagerly.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging at your top.

“Yes, please.”

The moment he got your top off, leaving you bare before him, his hands stilled, and he stared at your breasts. He looked like a child who had finally gotten the toy they’d been dreaming of, his mouth slightly open in awe. Slowly, he lowered his head to your right breast, placing soft kisses around it.

“Just as I thought,” he murmured between kisses. “Absolutely *smooch* perfect *smooch* and *smooch* so soft.”

After kissing all around your breast, he let his tongue flick over your nipple. When your moan filled the room, he glanced up at you and licked it again, this time keeping his gaze locked with yours. Once he broke eye contact, he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking it gently.

“Oh, God, Choso—fuck, fuck… they’re so sensitive,” you whimpered. The way he suckled your nipple made you feel like you might lose your mind. When his fingers found your other nipple and began teasing it, you arched your back and tangled your hands in his hair, silently begging for this to never end.

“Choso—I’m—I’m—”

He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice breathless. “Fuck, sweetheart, I could come just from sucking on your tits.”

“Do you want me to suck your—”

He placed a wet kiss between your breasts and looked into your eyes. “Not tonight. Tonight is about you. I just want to make you feel good.”

His hands slipped under your skirt, tugging your black thong down your hips before his fingers brushed along your slick folds.

“Choso—ugh, please, just put them in,” you begged.

Obliging, he slid one finger inside you, pumping slowly at first.

His long, thick finger found your G-spot almost immediately, pressing against it in just the right way. As your moans grew louder, he added a second finger and increased his pace, his fingers thrusting in and out of you with more urgency.

“Shit—shit, you’re so tight. If I fuck this pussy, I’ll come in two seconds,” he muttered, his voice strained as if he was barely holding himself together.

“Ahhh, Choso, right there—right—UGHH CHOSO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” You cried out as his teeth gently bit down on your other nipple. Your hands found his hair again as you whimpered, “More—I want more.”

Noticing the way your hips bucked to meet his movements, Choso chuckled against your skin. “I think—I think I’m falling for you. I’ve never seen a pussy this—fuck—this wet before.”

“It’s all for you, Choso. Just—just keep going, and I’m going to—ughhh.”

“Come for me, baby. Come all over my fucking fingers.”

Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers as you screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you. Choso let out a low growl, swearing under his breath as your hips stilled. He gently pumped his fingers inside you a few more times before pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, licking up every drop of your release.

As you lay there catching your breath, your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his shy, muffled voice.

“Uh, um… can we take a little break?”

Though you didn’t know why, you nodded understandingly. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

His brows furrowed as if he couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed. “You—you didn’t notice?”

Laughing at how adorably flustered he looked, you leaned in and kissed him softly. “Notice what, emo boy? If it’s about how good you fingered me, I think we both know how much I enjoyed it.”

“That’s not it…”

Now you were genuinely concerned. “Choso, I don’t understand. What happened?”

Avoiding your gaze, he glanced around the room before finally meeting your eyes with a resigned sigh. “I… I came, too.”

“Oh…”

Alright. You hadn’t noticed that.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, you burst into laughter, making his embarrassment even worse. Determined to make it up to him, you gave him the best blowjob of his life.

And then, as promised, you rode him until you were both drenched in sweat, your moans echoing loud enough for anyone outside to hear.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

choso kamo art by @yappdoll on X.

[sturniqlo]

blushing mess- shy!matt x shy!reader

summary: where shy!matt goes up to shy!reader for the first time

cw: none! pure fluff

an: there is a lot of "uh's" in this chapter to show how nervous they are :)

masterlist | shy!matt x shy!reader | join my taglist

------------------------------------------------

wednesday

the aroma of fresh coffee and pastries hit matt as soon as he walked into the small shop he'd visit frequently. as he stood in line, he examined the room for any open tables he could sit at. he spotted one next to a girl who seemed to be studying. that's the spot, it looks like she's not the type of person to try and make small talk- he had sat to a couple of those people.

hi, can i get a medium caramel iced coffee and a vanilla scone. he rehearsed the order to himself. as he got closer to the register, he kept looking over to the table he wanted to sit at- the girl sitting at the table next to him looked up and locked eyes with him. matt being matt- he looked away as he felt the blush begin to creep up his face. she was pretty- really pretty.

"next in line!" the cashier said. matt gasped and hurried forward. "hello, how are you today." the cashier fixed her hat. "oh- uhm- i'm good today. how are you?" he didn't rehearse this. "i'm good- thank you. what can i get for you today?" she did something on the screen in front of her.

"can i get a- uh- medium caramel iced coffee and a vanilla scone." he fiddled with the debit card in his hand. "unfortunately we sold our last vanilla scone a little while ago." the cashier informed him. matt bit the inside of his cheek.

"do you have a chocolate croissant?" he asked. "yeah, we do." she nods. "i'll take one." one he finished paying, he went and took a seat at the table he had his eyes on. the girl looked up at him and smiled before looking back at her laptop. he scrolled on his phone as he waited for his ordered. from the corner of his eye, he saw the vanilla scone next to her drink.

she must've gotten the last one.

"order for matt!" the barista called out. matt stood up from his chair and walked over to her his drink and pastry. matt went back to his table and glanced over at the girl sitting next to him. she was so focused on whatever was on her screen. he saw how she had a small pout, a slight furrow in her eyebrows, and would occasionally bite her bottom lip.

stop it! she'll think you're weird! he thought and immediately looked away, taking a sip of his drink. as he continued to scroll on his phone and finish his drink and croissant he couldn't help but keep stealing glances.

soon, the girl packed up her belongings and left the cafe. matt frowned. he'll get her next time.

the following days (thursday, friday, monday, tuesday)

the next day, matt returned in hopes to see her again. when he walked in, his eyes scanned the tables, but she wasn't sitting in any of them. he ordered his usual- scone included- and sat down. anytime the door bell chimed open, he looked up, unfortunately she never walked in. on friday- he did the same. matt waited all weekend since the shop was closed to return on monday. on monday and tuesday, there was no sight of her. he was afraid he'd never see her again.

next week wednesday

it was exactly a week later since matt first laid eyes on her. he went back to the coffee shop, only this time he didn't go in hopes of seeing her. he knew he'd never see her again.

"hello, i'll have a- uhm- medium caramel iced coffee and your last two vanilla scones, please." he paid and sat down in his normal table. as he was on his phone- the door chimed opens and out of habit, he looked up. it was her. she walked in with a smile, fixing her tote bag on her shoulder removing her headphones from her ears as she ordered.

although her and the cashiers voices were muffled- he understood what she ordered: a small brown sugar cookie iced coffee and a scone. he had realized he had ordered the last two scones. when his order came out, he picked it up at the counter and went back to his table and sure enough- she was sitting in the table next to his.

he gave her a small smile and sat down mixing his iced coffee with the straw. a few minutes later her iced coffee was ready. she sat back down and took a few sips before returning back to her computer screen.

do it, matt. "did you- uh- did you want a scone?" he asked- even he was surprised by his own voice. "huh?" she didn't quite hear him at first. "a scone- i bought an extra one." he held up the extra scone in the bag. "oh- uhm- are you sure?" a slight blush creeped up on her face- and soon enough he felt his face warming up. "mhm- here you go." he handed it to her.

"thank you.." she waited for his name. "matthew, but you can call me matt- or- or matthew doesn't really matter." she giggled at his nervousness. "thank you, matt. i'm y/n." she smiled, looking away for a split second- the eye contact had gotten a bit too much for her and her face was so hot she was sure it was bright red by now. "you're welcome, y/n." her name rolled off of his tongue easily. the two have each other a smile and turned away from each other.

they both stole glances here and there. until a couple of minutes later when she was starting to pack up, matt had a mental battle with himself. what if she had a boyfriend? even worse- what if she rejects him? or what if he can't even get the sentence out? he sighed to himself. this might be the last time he'll see her.

"hey- uh- y/n." her head whipped from her bag to him. "yeah?" her voice came out soft. she liked this- the attention she was receiving from matt. y/n had always heard from her friends that the boys that went up to them were usually pervs and only wanted one thing. although she was a bit skeptical at first when he offered her his scone. he didn't bother her in a way that made her uncomfortable.

"can i- can i get you number? if that's okay with you, obviously. i- uh- i think you're really pretty. i would love to get to know you." his face beet red- he had obviously never done this before. as soon as those words hit her ears, she blushed. "oh! uhm- sure, yeah- mhm." she nodded, trying to hide her smile had was forming. matt's eyes slightly widen at the face that she had said yes.

"cool- i- uh- here's my phone." he grabs his phone from the table and he unlocks it and goes into the keypad so she can type her number in. "here you go. i'll hear from you soon?" y/n hands his phone back and fixes her bag on her shoulder. "yeah- of- of course! it was nice talking to you."

they soon parted ways.

later that day

unknown

hi, it's matt :)

from earlier today at the coffee shop

[starkeysmoon]

KNOTS AND KISSES

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: after a long day at hogwarts, mattheo surprises you by offering to untangle your hair, revealing a softer side you didn’t expect.

content: fluff, mutual pinning, no established relationship, suggestive language, kissing.

words: 1,853

the castle had settled into a hushed stillness, the kind that only came when most students had retreated to their dorms.

you sat on your bed, freshly showered but too tired to deal with the mess of damp, tangled hair sticking to your shoulders.

the soft glow of enchanted fairy lights shimmered across your room, casting gentle shadows on the walls.

just as exhaustion began pulling at your limbs, a soft knock broke the silence, and before you could respond, the door creaked open.

“you’re going to get hexed one day for not locking your door,” mattheo muttered as he stepped inside, his smirk already firmly in place.

his dark eyes flicked over you, taking in your pajama-clad form and the damp strands clinging to your face.

“though i suppose if i’m the one sneaking in, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

you arched a brow at him, too tired to fight the grin tugging at your lips. “is this your way of saying you missed me, riddle, or are you just bored?”

he shut the door behind him with a soft click, the smirk deepening as he crossed the room. “can’t it be both?”

you rolled your eyes as a laugh escaped from your lips, flopping back against your pillows. “what are you even doing here? do you plan to charm my hairbrush to attack me?”

he pushed off the doorframe and strolled over to you, his gaze lingering on the damp strands clinging to your face. “doesn’t look like i’d need to. your hair’s already doing half the job.”

“wow. insightful as ever, mattheo,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

he chuckled, low and warm, as he perched himself on the edge of your bed. “bad day?” he asked, his voice laced with concern, but you could already hear the teasing in it.

you turned your head toward the door, only to find him leaning against the frame, arms crossed, a grin spreading across his face.

“i’m fine,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes.

“just… too tired to deal with this,” you said, motioning vaguely at your tangled hair.

mattheo raised an eyebrow. “too tired? or too lazy?”

you gave him a playful glare. “i prefer ‘tired.’”

he walked over to the bed, his smirk still in place, but his eyes softened when they landed on you. “i think i can help with that,” he said, as if he'd already made up his mind.

“help? how?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious of what he meant.

“well, you don’t have to untangle your hair if you’re that tired,” he said, his voice practically dripping with mischief. “i’ll do it for you.”

“you?” you blinked, unable to hide your amusement. “you’re going to untangle my hair?”

“don’t sound so surprised,” he drawled, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. “i’m full of hidden talents.”

you couldn't help but laugh at the idea.

“like what? bothering me until i lose my mind?”

“that’s one of my favorites,” he admitted, moving to sit down on the bed next to you, patting his lap, gesturing impatiently.

“now, are you going to sit down, or are we going to spend all night arguing?”

you narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn’t stop a small smile from playing at the corner of your lips. “this better not be some trap to mess with me.”

“i’m offended,” he teased, his voice light and playful.

“just sit, and let me work my magic.” he patted his lap again, the mischievous glint in his eyes growing stronger.

sighing dramatically, you rolled your eyes, but there was no resisting him. you climbed onto his lap, positioning yourself so you were sitting comfortably with your back against his chest.

hesitating for only a moment, you shifted to sit on the bed, your back pressed against his chest as you settled into his lap. his hands immediately found your hair, the warmth of his palms startling against your cool, damp skin.

“you’ve done this before?” you asked, more out of curiosity than doubt.

“maybe,” he said, his tone deliberately cryptic as his fingers worked through the knots with surprising gentleness.

“what does maybe mean?” you pressed, craning your neck to glance at him.

“it means don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” he said, smirking down at you.

you huffed, but the way his fingers combed through your hair was oddly soothing, and you felt yourself relax against him.

“you’re quiet,” he noted after a moment, his tone light. “you’re not plotting my demise, are you?”

“not yet,” you murmured, closing your eyes. “this is suspiciously nice, though.”

he chuckled, low and warm, the vibration of it against your back sending a strange flutter through your chest. “what can i say? i’m full of surprises.”

the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, the sound of his voice mingling with the soft crackle of the candlelight as you chatted.

you teased him about his hair-braiding skills, or lack thereof, and he retaliated by pretending to tug too hard, only to gently smooth his fingers through the strands again.

at one point, he paused, his hands lingering in your hair. “you know,” he said quietly, almost hesitantly, “this isn’t so bad.”

“what isn’t?” you asked, turning your head slightly to glance at him.

“this,” he said, gesturing vaguely between you both. “not... being alone all the time.”

his admission caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. but then you reached up, your fingers brushing against his, and you smiled.

“i trust you,” you said softly, feeling the weight of his words in the space between you.

his gaze softened, his fingers pausing in your hair before he continued gently untangling it.

“you do?” his voice was low, surprised in a way that made your chest tighten.

you nodded, feeling the quiet shift between you both. “yeah. even if you are a pain in the arse sometimes.”

he snorted softly, but there was a warmth in his smile. “you know, you’re lucky you’re cute when you’re being stubborn.”

his fingers carefully tugged at a particularly tough knot, and you winced.

“sorry,” he murmured, his voice softening. “i won’t hurt you.”

you laughed. “you’re lucky i like you. otherwise, i might just hex you for putting me in this position.”

“oh, please,” he scoffed, but there was no malice in his voice.

“as if you could live without me.” he tugged on your hair again, this time with much more care.

“hmm, true,” you admitted, letting your eyes close for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his body and the soothing rhythm of his fingers. “you’re pretty hard to get rid of.”

“you’re welcome,” he said with mock humility, and you could feel the grin on his face against the back of your head. “this is just me being a good…friend.”

“good friend, huh?” you teased, your voice light and playful. “who knew you had it in you.”

“you’re the only one who gets to see this side of me, you know,” he muttered, voice surprisingly soft as he continued working through your hair, his hands gentle now. “so enjoy it while it lasts.”

you felt a warmth settle in your chest at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile, even though you tried to play it off.

“you really are soft underneath all that sarcasm,” you teased, your voice warm with affection.

“and you’re not fooling anyone with that fake tough-girl act,” he shot back with a grin, though it was obvious he was enjoying the moment just as much as you were.

his fingers worked through another knot before he reached for a strand near the back of your head, tugging it with an exaggerated grunt.

“how did this even happen? seriously, it’s like you’ve been wrestling with a hippogriff.”

“i do have a very busy life, you know,” you quipped, reaching up to lightly smack his arm. “you’re lucky i’m letting you do this. don’t mess it up.”

“mess it up?” he echoed, his voice dripping with confidence. “i told you i’m a professional.”

you snorted. “right.”

you felt his chest rumble with laughter, the sound so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

he was so close to you, and in this simple, sweet moment, everything felt just a little bit more perfect.

“well, i think i’m done,” he said after a moment, gently setting your hair down, and you could feel the soft caress of his hands against your skin.

you turned in his lap to face him, feeling your heart race as you met his eyes.

“you actually did a good job,” you said, a teasing smile curling at the corner of your lips. “i’m impressed.”

“thank you,” he said, grinning back at you. “i told you. i’m good at everything.”

“everything, huh?” you leaned closer, your breath mixing with his as you smiled. “prove it.”

before he could respond, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a kiss that was anything but soft.

he tasted of warmth, familiarity, and affection. he didn’t pull away, his arms tightening around you in response.

and for that moment, with his fingers still tangled in your hair and his lips against yours, the world outside your little bubble of comfort didn’t matter.

it was just the two of you, tangled together in the way only you could understand.

mattheo riddle masterlist | navigation

[moowmoon]

DOCTOR

— spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

— summary: she was with a cold, and he was her personal doctor.

— c/w: sickness, cold and fever

— w/c: 0.9k

— a/n: hello! how are you guys doing? i had fun writing his one and i kinda wish that spencer was here taking care of me lol! i hope you guys like it and let me know your thoughts, my ask box is always open to talk/share things! english is not my first language, so forgive me if there's any mistake!

The rain drummed softly against the windows, filling the apartment with a constant, comforting rhythm. Spencer entered the living room, his footsteps silent on the carpet. He saw her lying on the sofa, curled up under a blanket, her face slightly flushed with fever. A pile of crumpled tissues rested on the coffee table next to an empty mug.

"How are you feeling?" Spencer asked, his voice low but full of concern. He knelt beside the sofa, studying the tired face in front of him.

"Terrible. But at least you're here." the reply came out hoarse but accompanied by a weak smile.

Spencer smiled back, gently pressing his hand to her forehead. "It's still warm, but better than this morning. I'll make some more tea."

Without waiting for an answer, he got up and disappeared through the kitchen door. From the sofa, she followed his movements with heavy eyes, feeling the heat of Spencer's concern as warm as the blanket.

He walked back into the room with measured steps, carefully balancing a tray in his hands. The mug of tea was spewing fine spirals of steam, and beside it lay some simple but inviting cookies. He stopped beside the sofa and watched her for a moment. She was partially covered, one hand loosely holding the blanket while the other rested on her chest, rising and falling in a rhythm that indicated persistent tiredness.

"I've brought you something." Spencer's voice was low, but full of tenderness.

She opened her eyes slowly and, although she didn't have the strength to move much, she managed to give a weak smile and get up slowly. Spencer put the tray on the side table, picked up the blanket, and carefully arranged it, pulling it up to her shoulders.

"You didn't have to…" the voice came out hoarse, but grateful.

"Of course I needed it." he leaned over and rested his palm lightly on her forehead. "The fever has started to come down. That's good." a small but sincere smile appeared on his lips before he picked up the mug and handed it to her. "Drink it slowly. It's still warm."

As she brought the mug to her lips, Spencer sat down next to her on the sofa, close enough for their shoulders to touch. He watched intently as if monitoring every little movement, and when she took a cautious sip, he spoke, his voice a reassuring whisper.

"Just rest. The paperwork can wait, and you don't have to worry about anything now. I'm here."

She stared at him, her eyes shining with something other than tiredness. A feeling of comfort and gratitude that only Spencer could offer at that moment.

After a few minutes, the room was plunged into a comfortable dimness, with only the soft light of a lamp filling the corners. Spencer was sitting on the sofa, a book open in his hands, his voice low and calm as he read.  Each word came out with an almost hypnotic cadence, projecting tranquil images into the room.

Still wrapped in the blanket, she leaned on his shoulder, adjusting her head so that she could hear the warm timbre of his voice more closely. She sighed, gradually relaxing as the tension left her body.

Without interrupting his reading, Spencer let one of his hands slide down her back, his fingers drawing slow, meticulous circles, a gesture that seemed as automatic as it was intentional.

"You know I could listen to this all day, right?" her voice sounded muffled against his shoulder, laden with tiredness but also a slight humor.

Spencer paused and smiled, closing the book for a moment. He watched her with quiet affection, his eyes filled with a fondness that needed no words to understand.

"And I'd read all day if it would help you get better faster."

She let out a low, husky laugh, her head sinking further into his shoulder. Sensing the movement, Spencer adjusted his arm to wrap around her completely, holding her firmly and gently.

"It's working," she murmured, almost falling asleep.

Spencer didn't reply, just resumed reading, continuing to trace those comforting little circles; the sound of his voice blending with the quiet rhythm of the pages being turned and the rain.

Her breathing became slow and rhythmic, signaling that sleep had finally overcome the discomfort of fever. Her head rested on Spencer's shoulder, her features, once marked by fatigue, now softened into an expression of peace.

He remained motionless for a few moments, listening to that calm, steady sound. Carefully, he adjusted the blanket once more, pulling it up to cover her shoulders and making sure she was warm.

Tilting his head slightly, he observed every detail of her sleeping face. The lips parted, the eyelashes casting delicate shadows against the still slightly flushed skin. There was something deeply comforting about that moment of stillness as if the whole world had been put on pause so that he could be there, exactly where he needed to be.

Spencer sighed softly, a sound of relief mixed with gratitude. He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head before leaning back further on the sofa, the comforting weight against him bringing a sense of belonging.

"You'll be fine," he murmured, even though he knew the words wouldn't be heard. Even so, saying them out loud seemed important, almost like a promise.

As the rain continued its gentle rhythm against the windows, Spencer stood there, his arms tightly around the one he loved, treasuring that moment of peace.

[zoofzoofxx]

—The art of eyecontact—

Pairings ; Axel Kovacevic x fem!reader

Summary ; After the night Axel helped you, it’s evident he regrets his harsh words and is ready to apologize, eager to mend what was broken between you. However, someone has stepped forward, admitting their jealousy and confessing they can’t bear to see the bond between you and Axel rekindling.

Warnings ; mention of alcohol & alcohol usage

Pt. 4

୨୧・・・・♡・・・・୨୧

‘Oh my goodness, yes!’ Sam cried out, bursting into our room with uncontainable energy. Startled by the sudden commotion, I stood up quickly, my gaze darting around the space as golden sunlight poured through the window, illuminating everything in its path and landing squarely on my face.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked, my fingers absentmindedly combing through my tousled hair, still heavy with the haze of sleep.

‘They’ve rescheduled the semi-finals—by two whole days!’ she exclaimed, gripping my shoulders with unrestrained enthusiasm. Her excitement was palpable as she began to shake me, almost as though trying to transfer her joy through sheer force.

A laugh escaped me, light and unguarded. I felt as if I had awakened from the most peaceful, restorative rest I could remember, and her jubilant announcement only elevated the sense of ease and delight lingering in the air.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ I asked, sitting upright in bed, my fingers lightly brushing over the edge of the blanket as I smoothed it out. My mind wandered to my wardrobe, already strategizing the perfect outfit for the day. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Sam at her vanity, meticulously applying her makeup. Her movements were quick but precise, the kind of efficiency that came with years of practice.

‘Breakfast, beach, bonfire, and then sleep,’ she replied, clapping her hands together in satisfaction as she stepped out of the bathroom, her beach outfit perfectly chosen and accessorized. It suited her effortlessly confident demeanor. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll explore Barcelona. Properly this time.’

‘Sounds perfect,’ I said, standing and stretching with a calm, deliberate movement. I wandered to the window, briefly letting the sunlight warm my face, before turning my attention back to my bedside table, tidying the few things that were out of place.

A knock interrupted the moment, and I turned my head toward the door. Sam shot me a glance, with a quick nod, she strode to the door.

I couldn’t hear the conversation clearly, but the tone was unmistakable—coolly polite, with an undertone of tension. When Sam returned, Tory and Kwon followed closely behind her, their presence instantly changing the energy in the room.

‘Tory!’ I greeted warmly, my voice genuine as I crossed the room to hug her. Though our dynamic had been competitive lately, I still couldn’t help but feel a soft spot for her charm.

‘Whoa, hey, Y/n,’ Tory said with a light laugh, hugging me back tightly before stepping away. Her ever-sunny demeanor masked the sharpness in her eyes, which flicked around the room as if cataloging every detail.

I turned to Kwon next, his tall figure leaning casually against the doorframe as though he owned the space. His expression was as smug as ever, and in his hand, he held a small paper bag, which he tossed onto the nearby table with a calculated nonchalance.

‘For you,’ he said, his tone dripping with arrogance. ‘You went a little overboard last night. Figured you’d need this to recover. Electrolytes, aspirin, green tea. You’re welcome.’

I arched a brow, stepping forward to inspect the bag. ‘Thoughtful of you,’ I replied, my tone measured and neutral, refusing to rise to the bait. ‘Though I’m perfectly fine this morning, thank you.’

He let out a quiet scoff, his smirk widening. ‘Right. Because chugging cocktails like they’re water doesn’t have consequences. Try to pace yourself today, or are you planning to make a habit of needing my help?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself, Kwon,’ Sam cut in, her voice sharp as she moved to my side. Her gaze was icy as it flicked between the two of them. ‘We’re perfectly capable of managing our day without your… oversight.’

I could see Tory nudge Kwon lightly with her elbow, clearly trying to break the tension. He merely rolled his eyes, the picture of indifference.

‘Don’t mind him, Y/n. He’s just trying to be helpful… in his own special way,’ she said with a grin, her voice carrying that easy charm she always relied on to smooth things over.

‘I’m glad we caught you before you headed out,’ Tory added cheerfully, brushing her hair over one shoulder as she surveyed the room.

I offered a calm smile, effortlessly dismissing Kwon’s air of arrogance. ‘It’s always a pleasure to see you both,’ I replied smoothly, maintaining my composure.

My gaze shifted to the clock on the wall before I turned back to them. ‘Have you eaten yet? If not, you should join us for breakfast. We’re heading out soon.’ I reached for my bag and began pulling out my neatly folded clothes, carefully laying them on the chair beside me.

Tory’s face lit up as she nodded enthusiastically. ‘Breakfast sounds perfect!’ she said, her energy contagious as always.

Kwon, on the other hand, gave a dismissive shrug, his posture still lazy and unbothered as he leaned against the doorframe. ‘Sure, why not?’ he muttered, though his tone made it sound like he was doing us a favor by agreeing.

I raised my eyebrows slightly at his nonchalance but didn’t comment. Instead, I gestured toward my clothes with a small smile. ‘Give me ten minutes to change, and we can head out.’

Tory sat down on the edge of my bed, making herself comfortable as she kicked her legs lightly. ‘Take your time, Y/n. We’re in no rush,’ she said, her tone warm and inviting.

Kwon, still stationed at the doorframe, crossed his arms and watched the room with that same unreadable expression. His eyes lingered on my methodical movements as I gathered my things, but his expression betrayed nothing beyond his usual air of aloofness. I ignored him, focused on maintaining the order and ease I carried through my morning.

As I stepped toward the bathroom, I glanced over my shoulder at Tory. ‘Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be ready soon.’

‘Always do,’ she replied with a wink, and I couldn’t help but chuckle softly before disappearing behind the door to change.

—

After stepping out of the shower, the faint sound of Tory and Sam talking drifted through the door. Their voices were surprisingly calm, and I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. The tension between them had been far from positive for a while now—ever since Tory joined Cobra Kai. But seeing them exchange words without hostility gave me a glimmer of hope.

I wrapped a towel around myself, wiping the steam from the mirror as I thought about Tory. Despite everything, I understood her choices. Her life hadn’t been easy, and joining Cobra Kai must have felt like her only option at the time. Still, it had put a rift between her and the rest of us.

I was happy to see Sam, in her own way, making an effort to bridge the gap. I knew it wasn’t easy for her. Sam had been hurt too, in ways that she didn’t often talk about, and trusting Tory again wasn’t something that could happen overnight. But even this small conversation felt like progress.

After Tory left our dojo, I had tried to reach out to her more times than I could count. Texts, calls, even dropping by her place—most went unanswered. For days, it had felt like she’d shut me out completely. I told myself it was just her way of coping, but it didn’t make the silence sting any less.

Hearing her voice now, though, talking with Sam instead of arguing, gave me hope. Maybe this trip was a chance for all of us to start over—not perfectly, not easily, but step by step. I smiled to myself as I slipped into my clothes, feeling a flicker of optimism.

By the time I opened the door and stepped back into the room, the air felt lighter. Tory was perched on the edge of my bed, gesturing animatedly as she spoke. Sam, leaning casually against the window, listened with a look of cautious interest. The sight made me pause for a moment, appreciating the delicate balance we were all trying to maintain. Maybe today would surprise us all.

I let Tory and Sam continue their conversation, their voices blending into the background as I shifted my attention toward Kwon. He stood near the doorframe, his posture as casual and self-assured as ever, his arms loosely crossed. As I moved about the room, gathering a few essentials into my bag, I decided to make an effort at small talk, even if Kwon’s usual attitude made it a challenge.

Leaning lightly against the wall beside him, I turned my head and smiled politely. ‘So, Kwon, are you excited for the semi-finals?’ I asked, keeping my tone warm and conversational.

His eyes flicked toward me, the familiar glint of arrogance unmistakable as he smirked faintly. He leaned slightly closer, as if to make his next words more pointed. ‘Excited?’ he echoed, his voice dripping with condescension. ‘More like prepared. Excitement’s for people who aren’t confident in their chances.’

I raised an eyebrow at his response but kept my expression composed, refusing to let his bravado faze me. ‘Well, confidence is a good thing,’ I said smoothly, tilting my head slightly. ‘But even the most prepared fighters can use a little excitement to keep them sharp. Don’t you think?’

He gave a quiet scoff, his gaze briefly flicking to Sam and Tory before returning to me. ‘Maybe for some. But I don’t rely on adrenaline to win.’

I smiled faintly at his predictable response, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. ‘Good to know,’ I said lightly. ‘Though I’d say a balance of both doesn’t hurt. Keeps things… interesting.’

Kwon’s smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. ‘Interesting, huh? You seem awfully calm for someone who’s about to face some serious competition.’

I straightened up and met his gaze, my expression unshaken. ‘Calm doesn’t mean unprepared,’ I replied with an even tone. ‘It just means I trust in the work I’ve put in. There’s no need to overcompensate.’

The faintest flicker of something unreadable crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual air of superiority. ‘We’ll see about that,’ he said with a shrug, his voice low.

I simply nodded, a serene smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I stepped away to give him space. As I moved toward Sam and Tory, I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Kwon’s arrogance might be his armor, but I wasn’t about to let it pierce through my calm.

After joining Sam and Tory, I exchanged a few pleasantries before we all left the room together. The morning sunlight streamed through the hallway as we walked, chatting about our plans for the day. It was decided that after breakfast, we’d split up to enjoy the day in our own ways and regroup at the bonfire that evening. Apparently, one of the teams eliminated from the Sekai Taikai had decided to host a massive gathering on the beach—a gesture to let loose and connect after all the intensity of the competition.

At breakfast, we found a table near the window. I slid into the chair closest to the sunlight, with Sam taking the seat next to me. Across the table, Kwon sat directly opposite me, while Tory casually took the spot across from Sam. It was a comfortable arrangement, though Kwon’s piercing, ever-analyzing gaze was hard to ignore.

I pulled out my phone, letting the easy banter around me fade into the background as I scrolled through my notifications. Nothing unusual caught my eye at first—just the usual updates and a few texts—until a new one popped up, stopping me mid-scroll. It was from Axel.

I tapped on it hesitantly, the memory of last night already creeping back into my mind. The message was simple but sent a wave of unease and something unspoken through me: Meet me after breakfast?

I stared at the words, my thoughts racing. The events of the previous night rushed back with startling clarity—the way Axel had put me to bed after my near-embarrassing state, the softness of his voice, the warmth of his touch as he made sure I was comfortable. My cheeks grew hot at the thought, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken.

Glancing around the room, I scanned for him, unsure of whether to respond right away. It didn’t take long to spot him—sitting a few tables away, hunched slightly as he poked at his food. His expression was unreadable, his focus firmly fixed on the table in front of him. Next to him, Zara appeared to be in the middle of a rant, her voice just loud enough to carry snippets of complaint. She waved her phone in his face, rolling her eyes dramatically, but he didn’t seem to care.

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity as my gaze lingered on him. For a moment, I wondered if he even remembered everything from last night. Did it mean anything to him? Or was it just a matter of responsibility, making sure a opponent didn’t pass out on the spot?

The sudden snap of fingers jolted me out of my thoughts. My eyes darted up, meeting Kwon’s expectant, mildly annoyed expression.

‘You awake over there, or did your phone just suck your soul out?’ he asked dryly, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that bordered on condescending.

I blinked, tucking my phone away quickly to hide the message. ‘Sorry,’ I replied smoothly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear

His smirk was as insufferable as ever, one eyebrow raised in mock concern. ‘Are you going to join us, or are you plotting your next move over there?’

My posture straightened, offering him a calm smile despite his condescending tone. ‘Just catching up on a few things,’ I replied evenly.

‘Must be important,’ he quipped, loosens up in his chair

‘I like to stay prepared,’ I said, keeping my voice light.

His smirk deepened, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, I turned my attention back to Sam and Tory, who were now discussing the best way to navigate the city.

But as I reached for my cup of tea, my thoughts drifted back to Axel. He had already made it clear that this competition wasn’t just about skill for him—it was personal. And whether I wanted it or not, we were locked in a rivalry that neither of us could walk away from.

The question now was whether meeting him after breakfast was worth the risk.

—

After breakfast, Kwon and I were walking behind Sam and Tory as we left the cafeteria, still laughing about Kwon’s ridiculous plans for what he would do if he won Sekai Taikai. His ideas were completely over the top, imagining himself hosting grand celebrations and making impossible demands. I couldn’t help but laugh along, even though part of me knew he was just being his usual, confident self.

But then, I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. I turned around, and there he was—Axel. A mixture of stress and a strange happiness washed over me at the sight of him. I couldn’t help but feel both uneasy and relieved. I wasn’t sure if it was the nervousness from our rivalry or just his presence, but something about him always left me feeling conflicted.

I sighed softly, forcing a smile, and waved at Kwon and Tory, signaling I’d be stepping aside for a moment. Kwon, not looking thrilled at the interruption, offered me a small, almost reluctant smile in return before turning his attention back to Tory.

Sam, sensing the tension, had already made an exit. ‘I’ll give you two some time,’ she said casually, heading for a nearby convenience store to grab snacks for the beach. It was almost as if she knew I’d need some space to handle Axel, though I wasn’t sure if I was ready for whatever conversation was about to unfold between us.

With Sam and Tory gone, it was just me and Axel now, and I couldn’t deny the mix of emotions bubbling up inside me.

Axel stood there in silence for a moment, his gaze fixed on me, and I could feel the familiar tension hanging in the air. Though on the outside I tried to appear calm, inside I was anything but. My heart raced, and my thoughts were a whirlwind, but I kept my posture relaxed, my expression composed.

‘So… what’s up?’ I asked, offering a soft smile, hoping to sound as casual as possible. I folded my arms gently, but there was a nervous flutter inside me that I couldn’t quite shake.

Axel raised an eyebrow, taking his time before responding. He looked around briefly, almost like he was deciding whether or not to speak at all. When he finally did, his voice was steady, though there was an edge to it. ‘We need to talk.’

His words hit me with a jolt, and despite the calm tone, I felt a knot form in my stomach. It wasn’t the friendliest invitation, but it wasn’t exactly a confrontation either. With Axel, it always felt like there was something unsaid lingering between us, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking now.

I took a deep breath, trying to stay composed. ‘About what?’ I asked, my voice as steady as I could manage.

Axel exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing for a moment before softening slightly. ‘About what happened yesterday.’

The mention of yesterday made my pulse quicken, but I forced myself to remain outwardly calm. The memory of what had transpired was still fresh—unclear and confusing—and I had hoped we could just move past it without bringing it up. But now that he’d said something, I realized there was no easy way around it.

‘I’m not sure there’s much to say,’ I replied softly, trying to keep my tone light yet truthful. ‘I remember how you helped me get home safely, and I’m grateful for that. But the words you said a few days ago still sting. You said I’m your opponent, and that there’s nothing between us.’ As soon as the words left my mouth, I instantly regretted them.

He didn’t respond immediately, his expression growing more intense. I knew that was probably not the answer he wanted to hear, but I wasn’t about to add fuel to a fire that didn’t need to burn.

‘It’s not that simple,’ Axel said, his tone firm, but there was something in his eyes that made it hard to ignore. He took a step closer, his presence unavoidable, and I could feel the tension between us rise. ‘You can’t just act like the last few days didn’t mean anything,’ he said, his voice carrying an edge of frustration.

I took a moment to collect myself. Though inside, my mind was racing, I remained still on the outside, careful not to let him see how affected I was. I didn’t want to make this more complicated than it had to be.

‘I’m not pretending anything,’ I said softly, meeting his gaze with calm clarity. ‘I just don’t think we need to make a bigger deal out of it. We’re rivals, Axel. It’s complicated enough as it is.’

Axel studied me for a long moment, his gaze unwavering. He seemed to be searching for something, trying to figure out if I was hiding something or if I truly meant what I was saying. But no matter how hard he looked, I didn’t let him see the storm brewing inside me.

The silence stretched between us, thick with unsaid words. Then, Axel spoke again, his voice quieter this time, but still resolute.

‘I think we both know this isn’t just about being rivals.’ His words hung in the air, and despite my best efforts to remain composed, a part of me felt exposed.

Axel stood in front of me, his expression conflicted as the tension between us hung heavy in the air. His gaze flickered between my eyes and the ground, as if searching for the right words. The soft sounds of the world around us seemed distant, as though it was just the two of us in that moment, suspended in time.

He exhaled, his shoulders dropping as if he’d finally come to a realization. ‘Y/n,’ he began, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than I’d ever heard it before. ‘I regret what I said. I… I didn’t mean it.’

I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him right. My heart raced, a mix of confusion and hope swirling inside me. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, not sure if I was ready for the answer.

Axel took a step closer, his eyes locking onto mine with a level of sincerity I hadn’t seen from him before. ‘I said there was nothing between us. But that was a lie. I pushed you away, and I can’t stand the thought of you thinking that I didn’t care.’ His hand gently brushed against my arm, the contact sending a shock of warmth through me. ‘I care, Y/n. More than I should.’

The words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, neither of us moved. I was frozen, unsure of what to say or do, my emotions swirling in a chaotic dance. But his honesty left no room for doubt. I saw it in his eyes—regret, longing, something that was far beyond rivalry.

Before I could respond, Axel took another step forward, closing the distance between us. His hand reached up, cupping my face gently, as if afraid I might pull away. I didn’t. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up at him, my heart pounding.

‘I was scared,’ he admitted, his voice low and raw. ‘Scared of what it meant, scared of how it might change everything. But I can’t deny it anymore.’

I could feel the tension in the air shifting, the walls we’d both built around ourselves crumbling with every word. My chest tightened as his face drew closer, the heat from his body mingling with mine. Then, before I could think, Axel leaned in, his lips brushing against mine with a softness that took my breath away.

The kiss was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. Instead, I found myself melting into the kiss, my hands instinctively reaching up to thread through his hair as I deepened it. Axel’s arms encircled me, pulling me closer, and the world outside us disappeared completely.

In that moment, there was no rivalry, no past mistakes. There was only the warmth of his touch and the truth that had finally been spoken between us. And as we pulled away, I knew things between us would never be the same again.

Axel’s voice was a soft murmur as he spoke against my lips. ‘I’m sorry for pushing you away, Y/n. I should have never said that.’

I smiled, my heart still racing but my mind at ease. ‘It’s okay, Axel. We’re here now.’

Axel gave me a tight smile, his eyes softening, but there was still an unreadable edge to his expression. ‘I guess… I’ll see you later,’ he said quietly, his voice betraying a trace of uncertainty.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, unsure of how to respond. As Axel turned and walked away, my thoughts swirled—conflicted, confused, but somehow clearer. It was as though a door had cracked open, and I wasn’t sure what was on the other side. I stood there for a moment longer, watching him disappear into the distance, before I took a deep breath and turned toward the hotel’s main entrance.

The lobby felt quieter than usual as I walked through it, the weight of the conversation still lingering in my chest. I could hear the soft hum of distant voices, but they didn’t register, my mind too focused on what had just happened. I made my way to the exit, pushing the heavy door open.

As soon as I stepped outside, the warm air hit me, and I saw Sam waiting by the railing outside the hotel. She was casually leaning against it, a small bag of snacks in her hands, but it was the way she looked at me that told me she had already noticed something wasn’t quite right. Her eyes narrowed slightly, studying me, and I felt a twinge of guilt. She could tell something had happened, even if I hadn’t said a word yet.

‘Everything okay?’ Sam asked, her tone light but with a hint of concern.

I offered a small smile, still feeling the warmth of Axel’s words lingering in my chest. ‘Yeah, everything’s fine. Let’s just go to the beach,’ I said, not quite ready to dive into the details yet.

We walked side by side as we made our way toward the beach, the sounds of the bustling city fading into the background. The salty air filled my lungs as I tried to collect my thoughts, but it was hard to ignore the rush of emotions. Sam didn’t push me to explain right away, though I could tell she was waiting for me to speak.

As we neared the shore, the waves crashing softly in the distance, I finally spoke, my voice low. ‘I… talked to Axel,’ I started, unsure of how to put it all into words. ‘We cleared the air. Kind of.’

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. ‘Cleared the air? What does that mean exactly?’

I sighed, my fingers brushing through my hair as I looked out at the ocean. ‘He admitted he was wrong—about what he said a few days ago, how he acted. He regrets saying that there was nothing between us, that I’m just his opponent. It was… a lot, Sam. But I don’t know if I can believe everything he said yet. It’s confusing.’

Sam nodded, her expression softening as she gave me a sympathetic look. ‘That sounds like a lot to process. But, hey, at least he owned up to it, right? I guess it’s a step in the right direction.’

I nodded slowly, still unsure of what all of it meant. ‘Yeah, I guess. But I’m not sure what to do with it. I’m still trying to figure out where we stand—if things are even going to change between us at all.’

We reached the edge of the beach, the cool sand beneath our feet grounding me, though my thoughts were anything but calm. Sam walked beside me, silent for a moment, before she spoke again, her voice quiet but knowing.

‘You don’t have to have it all figured out right now, Y/n. Just take it one step at a time. And if Axel really means what he said, he’ll show it. Words are one thing, but actions speak louder.’

I looked over at Sam, her words offering a small sense of comfort. She was right, of course. I didn’t need to have all the answers right now. The future was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could handle it. With the ocean in front of us and the warmth of the sun on our backs, I took a deep breath and let the moment wash over me. Whatever came next, I would face it head-on.

With a soft smile, I turned to Sam. ‘Thanks. Let’s just enjoy the day, yeah?’

We continued walking, the soft sand beneath our feet as we searched for a spot to leave our things. After a few moments, we found a quiet area near the shore, away from the crowds, where we could set our bags down. Sam quickly spread out a towel while I placed the snacks beside us.

Once our things were settled, we turned toward the water, the cool waves lapping at the shoreline. The weight of the conversation with Axel seemed to drift away with each step we took toward the sea. As we waded into the water, the salty breeze lifted my spirits, and the sound of the waves drowned out everything else. Whatever had happened with Axel, whatever came next, I knew I wasn’t alone in this. And that thought brought a quiet sense of peace, at least for now.

—

‘Hmm, actually, I’m craving some carbonara,’ I murmur, glancing at Sam. Her eyes light up immediately.

‘I was thinking about chicken Alfredo pasta!’ she says excitedly, clapping her hands together.

‘Oh my god, let’s go home, change, head to a restaurant, and then after dinner, we can go to the bonfire!’ She practically bounces up, her enthusiasm contagious.

‘Great idea!’ I smile, already standing and gathering my things. Together, we headed back, excited for what the rest of the day would bring.

—

As I stood before the mirror, meticulously blow-drying my hair and carefully placing each section into rollers to achieve the perfect blowout effect, Sam’s voice cut through the sound of the dryer. ‘There’s a rather upscale restaurant nearby. Should I secure a reservation?’ she inquired with an air of casual consideration.

I peeked my head from behind the bathroom door, offering her a warm smile and a thumbs-up in approval. Her eyes brightened instantly, and she clapped her hands together in delight before quickly retrieving her phone. The soft sound of her dialing the restaurant reached my ears as I turned my attention back to the task at hand, carefully selecting my outfit for the evening. I moved to the closet, my fingers brushing over the fabric of my beige trousers, before settling on the white off-the-shoulder long-sleeve top I had in mind.

Through the sound of Sam’s conversation, I could hear her thanking the restaurant and concluding the call with a polite farewell, placing the phone down on the nearby counter.

‘We have thirty minutes,’ Sam announced, her voice tinged with urgency as she hurriedly began to sift through her own wardrobe. She was clearly eager to be on our way.

In the meantime, I scanned the room for my brown leather bag, which I quickly located beside the dresser. I moved purposefully to grab it, my fingers instinctively reaching for a few essentials—lip balm, a compact mirror, and my phone—before stowing them away with precision. Every movement, though rushed, was deliberate, and the anticipation of the evening ahead added a sense of excitement to the otherwise ordinary act of getting ready.

—

‘Mmm, that was absolutely delicious,’ Samantha exclaimed, placing her fork and knife neatly on her plate. She leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. I was still savoring the last bite of my meal, enjoying every mouthful, but Sam was already thinking ahead.

‘I’m going for a tiramisu,’ I said, setting my cutlery down gently on the plate. Sam’s eyes lit up as she made a mental note of her own dessert choice.

‘I think I’ll go with the cheesecake,’ she replied with a grin, clearly excited about the sweet treat ahead. The waiter passed by, and Sam quickly flagged him down, placing our dessert orders with a touch of enthusiasm.

As we waited for our desserts, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. We discussed the things we might do when we returned to Los Angeles—the places we’d visit, the activities we’d try, and all the adventures we would inevitably have once we were back in familiar surroundings.

‘We should definitely go to the beach as soon as we’re back,’ Sam suggested, her tone dreamy as she stared out the window at the darkening sky. ‘It’s been way too long since we’ve just relaxed, you know? No schedule, no obligations… just the sun and sand.’

I nodded in agreement. ‘And maybe we can check out that new art exhibit downtown. I’ve heard great things about it.’

Sam tilted her head, tapping her chin thoughtfully. ‘That sounds perfect. A little culture mixed with some chill beach time… who wouldn’t love that?’

The waiter soon returned with our desserts, placing the rich, creamy tiramisu in front of me and the decadent cheesecake in front of Sam. We both smiled at the sight of our treats before diving in, the conversation briefly taking a backseat as we indulged in the sweet, velvety desserts. For now, there was no rush, no pressing plans—just the simple joy of good food and even better company.

—

After we ate, we didn’t head back to the hotel but instead made our way straight to the beach. The warm evening air felt refreshing, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was calming. I found myself hoping that I might run into Axel again and get the chance to talk to him, to clear the air after everything that had happened.

As we walked, I suddenly felt a presence beside me, and before I could react, a familiar arm draped around my shoulders. I froze for a moment, instinctively recognizing the clean, woodsy scent of cologne I knew all too well. I turned to find Kwon smiling down at me, his face slightly flushed and his movements a bit unsteady. I could already smell the alcohol on him, and it made me wary.

‘Hey, Y/n,’ he said, his voice a little slurred. He stopped walking, and I followed suit, feeling Sam tense beside me.

‘Kwon, what do you want?’ Sam asked, crossing her arms over her chest, her tone already laced with annoyance. She had never been a fan of his presence, and it was obvious she wasn’t happy to see him now either.

Kwon ignored Sam’s cold response and focused his attention on me. ‘Y/n… I have a question…’ he said, his words dragging a little as he reached for my hand. His hands were warm and soft, but the unsteady way he held it made me hesitate for a moment.

I tilted my head slightly, waiting for him to finish.

‘Can you pleaseee give me a hug?’ he asked, his voice almost childlike. His words were slurred, but there was something in his expression that caught me off guard. It wasn’t the usual confident arrogance or teasing I’d seen from him before. No, this was different. He looked… vulnerable, maybe even a little desperate.

Sam burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but giggle as well. Kwon’s face remained earnest, though, and despite the humor of the situation, I couldn’t ignore the underlying sadness in his eyes.

I softened, realizing that, despite his arrogance, he was in some kind of emotional state—one that probably wasn’t all that different from mine in moments like this. So, with a small smile, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him in a hug.

The warmth of his embrace was brief but surprising, and when I pulled away, Kwon didn’t say anything. He simply looked at me for a moment, almost as if he was processing something. Sam was still chuckling beside us, but there was a sense of quiet tension between Kwon and me, one that I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret.

‘Can we talk, please? Alone?’ Kwon’s voice was low, and he looked at Sam, almost pleading with his eyes. Sam, sensing the shift in his tone, raised her hands in mock surrender.

‘I’ll be by the bonfire,’ she said, pointing to a group of people gathered around the crackling flames a short distance away. I gave her a quick nod and a thumbs up, signaling that everything was fine. She walked off, leaving Kwon and me standing in the quiet space between the noise of the beach and the bonfire.

I turned my attention back to Kwon, who seemed less confident than usual. He was pacing slightly, his hands shoved into his pockets, eyes darting around as if he wasn’t sure what to say. There was an unusual tension in his posture, something different from the usual cocky swagger he wore so effortlessly.

‘So… have you ever heard of “drunk words are sober thoughts?”’ Kwon asked, his words slow and deliberate as if he was choosing each one carefully. There was a hint of vulnerability in his voice, something I hadn’t expected from him.

I nodded, unsure of what to say next. I had heard the saying before, but this time it felt different—more significant. Kwon wasn’t the type to share much, especially when it came to emotions. His usual bravado seemed to have taken a backseat, and for a moment, I could see the struggle in his eyes.

‘Yeah, I’ve heard of it,’ I replied, keeping my voice calm, trying to read him. ‘What does that have to do with this?’

Kwon took a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the sand beneath our feet. He seemed almost lost in his thoughts before looking back up at me. There was a quiet sincerity in his eyes now, something raw and honest that I hadn’t seen before.

‘By that, I really want to say that…’ Kwon trailed off, his words stuck in his throat as if he couldn’t quite find the right way to finish his sentence.

‘Fuck, Y/n, you’re making this extra difficult,’ he muttered under his breath, his frustration evident. He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair, his gaze darting around as if looking for some kind of escape. It was clear he wasn’t used to being vulnerable, and it was making him uncomfortable.

I frowned, sensing the shift in his mood. He had always been so confident, so sure of himself, but now he seemed like he was struggling to find his footing. Before I could say anything, Kwon suddenly grabbed my shoulder, his touch firm but not aggressive. He looked at me, his expression tense but also filled with something else—maybe desperation, maybe hope.

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ he asked, his voice quieter now, a hint of uncertainty in it that I hadn’t heard before.

I hesitated for a moment, but then I nodded. There was something about the way he was looking at me, something that made me want to hear him out, even if I didn’t entirely understand what was going on.

‘Yeah,’ I said softly. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

He let out a breath of relief, as though my answer gave him a small sense of peace. Without another word, he guided me away from the spot we had been standing, the tension between us still lingering in the air but not as heavy as before. We began walking along the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the silence between us.

There was a long silence between us, a thick, suffocating pause that seemed to stretch on forever. The air between us felt charged, uncomfortable, like something unsaid was hanging there, waiting to be acknowledged. I could feel the tension in his posture, the way he was walking just a little too close, but not close enough.

Then, as if it couldn’t stay quiet any longer, Kwon broke the silence. His voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was an edge to it.

‘I hate the feeling when I see you with Axel,’ he said suddenly, his words slicing through the air like a confession he hadn’t meant to make.

I stopped walking, my heart skipping a beat. I turned to him, trying to read his expression, but it was unreadable—like he was fighting some internal battle, the one I hadn’t been prepared for. My stomach twisted as I tried to figure out what he meant, but before I could ask, he looked away, his jaw clenched.

And then, without warning, he took a deep breath and said something that completely threw me off balance.

‘I… I can’t just stand by and watch anymore.’

¡Important!

A/n : Sorry for the cliffhanger, everyone! I’m sad to announce that my posting schedule might become a bit less frequent in the coming weeks. With exam week just around the corner, I have a lot on my plate—I’ll be preparing for a total of nine exams, one for each subject, and I really want to do my best to pass them all.

But don’t worry, this doesn’t mean I’ll stop posting altogether! It just means updates will be spaced out a little more—probably every 4-5 days instead of the usual 1-2 days. I hope you can understand and bear with me during this time.

I’m excited to share that I’m now posting my story on Wattpad as well! You can find me there under the username @zochya. If you prefer reading on Wattpad, the story is available for you to enjoy there too!

Thank you so much for your support and for following along with my story. It means the world to me! Also, apologies for any grammar mistakes—I’m doing my best! I hope you continue to enjoy the story, and I can’t wait to share more with you soon!

[faithshouseofchaos]

Just a little bit— lando Norris x male!reader smut

Word count — 7885

Warnings — use of drugs (weed) smut brat taming, sub!lando dom!reader hair pulling talks of anal praise/degrading body worship, reader calling Lando a pup/puppy reader taking Lando apart, reader using Lando as a toy, face fucking I don’t remember what else.

@alex-wotton @crispysoup318

The evening had started innocently enough, just the two of you tucked away in the quiet of your shared apartment. Lando had suggested the joint as a way to "unwind," and after a little teasing, you'd caved. Now you were both sprawled on the couch, the air thick with the lazy warmth of the high and the faint scent of weed lingering between you.

"You're staring," you said, noticing the way Lando's eyes had fixed on you, heavy-lidded and soft.

''Cause you're hot," he replied without hesitation, his grin lazy as he shifted closer, resting his head on your shoulder. His curls tickled your neck, and his hand found your thigh, rubbing slow circles with his thumb.

"Smooth," you said, rolling your eyes even as heat crept up your neck.

"Is it working?" he asked, lifting his head just enough to nuzzle against your jaw. His voice was lower now, a little rough around the edges, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Maybe," you admitted, leaning back against the cushions as his hand slid further up your thigh, his touch deliberate and teasing.

"Hmm, thought so," he murmured, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth before he tilted your face toward him.

The kiss started slow-soft and exploratory it didn't take long for it to deepen. His hands wandered, tugging your shirt up just enough to let his fingers trace over your stomach.

"You're being bold tonight," you teased between kisses, your own hands finding their way under his hoodie.

"Maybe it's the weed," he said, his grin turning wicked. "Or maybe it's just you." You didn't have to respond before he straddled your rap, his weight pressing down on you in a way that made your pulse quicken. His hands slid over your chest, lingering at your shoulders before curling around the back of your neck.

"God, you're so serious all the time," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in. "But not with me. Never with me."

"You bring it out of me," you admitted, letting your hands rest on his hips, pulling him closer.

"Good," he said, grinding down just enough to draw a low groan from you.

"Because I like this version of you. The one who lets go."

His lips found your neck, warm and insistent as he left a trail of kisses there.

You could feel the smirk on his face when your breath hitched, and his hands wandered again, pushing your shirt higher.

"Lando," you warned, though it came out more like a plea.

Lando's smirk only intensified at your half-hearted protest. He knew he had you, and the way you said his name, all breathless and urgent... well, it only made him more determined.

"What?" he murmured against your skin, his tongue brushing lightly over the spot beneath your ear that he knew drove you crazy. "You don't like it?"

He nipped at your earlobe, his thumbs hooking under the edge of your shirt, teasing the bare skin of your stomach. "You're doing that on purpose," you managed to gasp out, even as your hands tightened on his hips. Lando huffed a laugh, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

"Of course I am," he said, his lips moving to the sensitive skin below your jaw. "You always get so worked up when I tease you like this."

He punctuated his words with another slow grind of his hips, his grin widening when you arched into him involuntarily.

“Lando I’m warning you,” you say groaning as he slowly grinned his hips against yours. Lando chuckled at your attempt to sound threatening, his eyes dark with desire.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” he asked, his tone dripping with mockery as he ground against you again. His hands slid under your shirt, his palms warm against your skin, and he relished in the way you shivered beneath his touch.

“Because I don’t think it’s working,” he said, his lips moving to your throat, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there.

You let out an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes dramatically at his words. Feeling a rush of defiance, you reached up and wove your fingers through his thick, unruly curls. With a swift, deliberate motion, you yanked his head back, forcing him to meet your gaze. The tension between you crackled, as your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him in place just long enough for the weight of your expression to sink in.

“Lando I've had to let you act out for the past couple of weeks and I’m tired of you acting like a brat you hear me,” you said. Lando’s eyes went wide as you suddenly took charge, his breath catching at the sudden spike of pleasure mixed with surprise. His head was tilted back, exposing the strong lines of his neck, and the way his hair was tousled from your grip made him look younger and more vulnerable.

The defiant expression from before was gone, replaced by a mix of surprise and slight admiration. He swallowed, his eyes falling half-lidded as he tried to regain some ground.

“I… wasn’t acting like a brat,” he protested weakly, resisting the pull on his hair.

You arched an eyebrow, your fingers tightening in his hair enough to draw a sharp intake of breath from him.

“You’ve been a brat,” you said bluntly, your voice firm. “Whining and complaining, trying to push my buttons.”

Lando opened his mouth to protest, but you didn’t give him the chance. You pulled on his hair again, earning a deep, rumbling groan from him.

“I’ve had enough. Tonight, I’m in charge, understand?” Something about the change in dynamic, the way you were dominating him so easily, made heat pool low in Lando's gut. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end, and part of him wanted to resist, to fight back. But the look in your eyes, the authoritative tone of your voice… it all made it so hard to struggle.

He swallowed again, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before finally nodding.

“I… I understand,” he said softly, his voice hoarse with desire. A satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth as you felt Lando submit to your command. It was a deliciously heady feeling, having this usually brash and confident man pinned beneath you, his body already reacting to your touches.

“Good,” you said, your voice still firm. “Because I'm done playing games with you, Lando. And I'm damn tired of your bratty attitude."

Your hand in his hair tightened again, pulling his head back further so he was looking directly up at you. Lando’s eyes widened just a little further, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts now. Being at your mercy like this was strangely arousing, the way you were completely in control made his mind go blissfully blank.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he gasped out after a moment, his lips parted and his expression more than a little pleading.

You hadn’t even done anything yet, and already he looked on the edge of coming undone. It was a sight you wanted to see more of. Your smirk turned almost predatory as you looked down at Lando, seeing the way he was already starting to come apart. But you weren’t quite done with him yet.

“I know you’re sorry,” you said, your tone still sharp. “But I don’t think you’re sorry enough.”

Leaning down, you dragged your lips over his exposed neck, leaving a trail of light, teasing kisses. Lando shuddered beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs, his nails digging in just slightly.

Lando’s breath was coming in shallow gasps now, the feeling of your lips against his neck driving him wild. The way they were just skimming over his skin, never lingering long enough in one spot to give him any real relief… it was torture.

He tilted his head to the side, his hips shifting restlessly, seeking friction. But your grip on his hair kept him from being able to do much else, leaving him helplessly at your mercy. You continued to trace kisses over Lando’s neck, savoring the way he writhed beneath you, his body tense and quivering. You could feel the heat of him, the way he was straining against the fabric of his jeans, and it only fueled your sense of power.

“Look at you,” you said, your voice a low, satisfied murmur against his skin. "Already so worked up and I've barely even touched you."

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say that you like the feeling of your hair being pulled on?” Lando let out a low, guttural moan, his eyes shutting tightly for a moment as you tugged on his hair again. The sensation was sending sparks of pleasure straight down his spine, and it was getting harder to ignore the fact that he was very much enjoying this loss of control.

“I… I don’t…” he protested weakly, but it was a flimsy cover at best. It was obvious from his rapid breaths and the flush on his cheeks that he was thoroughly enjoying this little game you were playing. “Oh, you don’t?” you said, your tone teasing as you leaned in, your mouth hovering just scant centimeters from his. “Then why are you getting so excited, hm?”

Lando didn’t answer, his eyes fixed on your mouth, his breathing a little faster than normal. His thighs were tensing and shifting under you, his whole body silently begging for more contact than you were allowing. You pulled back, just enough to keep your lips teasingly out of reach, and tugged on Lando’s hair again. He made another one of those beautiful, strangled groans, his hands clenching reflexively on your thighs.

“You can deny it all you want,” you said, your tone almost sing-song, “but your body is very honest, Lando.” Lando swallowed hard, his eyes half-lidded and his expression slightly dazed. The way you were so calmly in control, with your hands in his hair and your body straddling his, was making coherent thought increasingly difficult.

“Y-you’re being cruel,” he said, his voice wavering just slightly. “I'm being cruel?” you repeated, your tone innocent and slightly mocking. “Is it really cruel when you’re enjoying it this much?”

You shifted slightly, grinding down just a little against his hips. Lando groaned again, his head falling back, the line of his neck exposed. You took the opportunity to run your tongue over his Adam's apple, feeling his pulse fluttering swiftly just beneath the surface.

“God…please,” Lando gasped out, his throat working as he swallowed again. His hips bucked up against yours, seeking more friction. The need in his voice was apparent, his facade of cocky bravado all but evaporated.

"Please," he repeated, his hands tightening on your thighs again. "I need… I need more, please…"

The fact that you had Lando Norris, usually so cool and self-assured, begging for you like this… it was addictive. You wanted to keep him like this, writhing under you, his sharp tongue and clever quips reduced to a pleading whisper.

“You want more?” you said, pulling lightly on his hair again. “Then you have to listen to me. Can you do that?” Lando nodded quickly, his eyes dark and pleading as he looked up at you. The way you were holding him, the way you were dominating him so thoroughly, it was lighting a fire under his skin, and he'd do anything you asked if it meant getting more.

“I can… I can listen,” he managed to gasp out, his hands gripping your thighs again. “Good,” you said, your tone approving as you leaned in, your lips almost touching his again. “Because you’re going to do exactly as I say from now on, understand? No more brattiness, no more arguing. Tonight, you’re mine.”

You felt Lando’s body tense beneath you, his breath quickening at your words. His eyes were fixed on your mouth, his lips parted in anticipation. Lando was torn between the urge to protest your command and the burning need to have your mouth on him again. The way you were so in control, your body pressing down against his, the sharp tugs on his hair… it was all driving him crazy.

“I’m yours,” he finally managed to gasp out, his voice raw and ragged. “Yours, all yours…”

You smiled, a sense of satisfaction filling you at Lando’s complete surrender. He was willingly giving in to your control, submitting to you completely, and it was a rush like nothing you’d experienced before.

“That’s right,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over his. “You’re mine. My disobedient little brat, all tamed and obedient.”

Lando shivered at the words, his fingers twitching on your thighs. “I’ll be obedient,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I’ll do whatever you want, just please… please let me kiss you.”

The desperation in his tone was obvious, his eyes flickering down to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. He looked nearly desperate, his body trembling slightly as he waited for your permission.

The sight of Lando so needy and pliant, willingly letting you dominate him, was intoxicating. You held onto that sense of power for a few more moments, letting him squirm and wait, before finally giving in.

“Since you’re being so good now,” you said, your voice slightly teasing, “I suppose I should reward you.”

And without another word, you leaned down and captured his lips in a bruising kiss. Lando groaned into the kiss, his hands flying up to grasp your waist, pulling you down against him. It was a messy, desperate kiss, his tongue seeking yours with a need that echoed the tension that had been building between you.

His body arched up against yours, his hips grinding up shamelessly as he tried to get closer to you, to press as much of himself against you as he could. You could feel the heat of his skin, the thundering of his heart, and you knew he was completely yours at this moment. You deepened the kiss, your tongue tangling with his, relishing in the sounds he was making against your mouth. He was so reactive, his body moving instinctively against yours, seeking any contact he could get.

Your hands, still gripping his hair, angled his head, giving you better access to his mouth. He opened up to you without hesitation, his breath coming in gasps now as he surrendered himself completely to the kiss. Lando was drowning in sensation, his mind a haze of pleasure and need. The way you were taking control of him, your tongue exploring his mouth, the way your body was pressing him down onto the couch… it was all too much.

“God, you taste so good,” he managed to gasp out, his fingers digging into your waist. His hips were still moving against yours, seeking relief that only you could give him. “Please… please I need…”

“Shhh,” you said, pulling away slightly, your lips trailing down the line of his neck. “I know what you need. And I’ll give it to you, but you have to be patient.”

Lando groaned at your words, his head falling back again to give you more access to his neck. He was shaking now, his whole body tense and thrumming with desire. “I… I’m trying to be patient,” he gasped out, his voice ragged. “But you’re driving me insane here.”

“I’ll give you what you want but first I want you to do something for me”

Lando, his brain still pleasantly fuzzy from the intoxicating combination of the weed and your presence, nodded quickly, eager to please. “Anything,” he said, his voice gravelly and rough. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“Want your lips around my cock” you replied.

Lando’s eyes widened at your blunt words, a wave of heat washing over him. He’d been expecting you to ask for something more tame, but the request was unexpected… and incredibly arousing.

He swallowed, his throat dry, his hands gripping your thighs. “I… I can do that,” he managed to say, his voice coming out a strangled gasp. “I’ll… I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

You chuckled, the sound low and tingled with heat. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” you said, your hand gently carding through his hair. “You’re such a good boy right now, Lando. So obedient, so willing to please.”

Lando let out a soft moan, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. The combination of your words and your touch was sending thrills down his spine, making his body tremble.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice soft and husky. “Please, I want to make you feel good.” Your smirk widened at his words, your fingers still petting through his hair. “Then be a good boy and get on your knees for me,” you said, your tone firm.

Lando’s breath hitched at your command, but he immediately began sliding himself out from under you, his eyes never leaving your face. His hands were trembling slightly as he settled himself between your knees, looking up at you with an expression of eager anticipation. You ran a hand through his hair again, the silky strands slipping through your fingers. “So eager to please me,” you murmured, your eyes locked on his face. “What a good boy you are, Lando. So well-behaved now, aren’t you?”

Lando nodded, his tongue swiping over his lips in anticipation. “Yes,” he breathed out, his hands resting on your thighs, his fingers flexing against your skin. “I want to be good for you, just tell me what to do.”

You held his gaze, enjoying the way he was straining to maintain control, silently begging for your direction. “Unbutton my jeans,” you said quietly, your tone still firm. “Slowly, and carefully. No rushing.”

Lando’s hands immediately moved to your waistband, his fingers deftly unbuttoning the button of your jeans and pulling down the zipper. His touch was so gentle, so careful like he was afraid he’d make a mistake and disappoint you. His breaths were coming faster now as he worked your jeans down your thighs, his eyes tracking the process intently. He was enjoying having a clear directive, his hands trembling slightly as he freed you from the confining fabric.

He looked up at you, his blue eyes dark and intense, awaiting your next command. “Now what?” he asked, his voice a hushed whisper.

You smiled down at him, enjoying the way he was looking up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and submission. “Now show me how good your mouth is,” you said quietly, your hand still playing with his hair. “Show me how much you want to please me, Lando.” Lando let out a shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Your words were making his heart race, his body tensing with anticipation. He wasn’t used to this… from being the one on his knees to being the one being told what to do.

But he found himself craving it, wanting to give you exactly what you wanted. He leaned in, his breaths hot against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs. “I’ll show you,” he murmured, his voice huskier than usual.

You leaned back, giving him more room to work, your eyes fixated on his face. “Good boy,” you said softly, your fingers still weaving through his hair. “Just take your time. There’s no rush.”

Lando nodded, his tongue slipping out to moisten his lips. He shifted a little between your legs, his breath coming in soft, quick pants as he positioned himself in front of your hips. His hands were shaking, his fingers tracing light, teasing circles on the skin of your thighs.

He looked up at you again, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he looked back down. He was working himself up to it, his breaths coming faster and quicker, his body tense.

Finally, after a few moments of tense silence, he leaned in, his tongue swiping gently over your tip, testing your reaction. Your breath hitched at the first touch of his tongue, your hand instinctively tightening in his hair. “That’s it,” you murmured, your voice a little huskier now. “Just like that, good boy.”

Lando let out a soft moan at your praise, the sound vibrating against your skin. He continued to move slowly, his tongue exploring gently like he was trying to commit your taste to memory. His hands were still tracing light circles on your thighs, his touches feather-light. It was as if he was trying to prolong the experience, not wanting to rush through it.

His breaths were coming quicker now, his hips shifting restlessly between your legs. He was enjoying this, the fact that he was making you shiver and gasp only spurred him on.

You leaned back more, your eyes closing as you focused on the feel of his tongue and lips on your skin. It was a strange sensation, having him so willing and eager to please you, but it was incredibly arousing as well.

“That’s it,” you repeated, your voice a little breathless now. “You’re being so good, Lando. Just like that, keep doing that...” Lando let out a soft, needy whine at your words, his movements becoming a little more confident now. He’d found a rhythm that seemed to be working, his tongue and lips working together, his breaths coming in quick pants.

His hands, still on your thighs, were gripping you a little tighter now, his fingers digging into your skin. He was enjoying this, the pleasure radiating off him in waves.

You could feel the heat building within you, the sensations of Lando’s mouth and hands sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You felt almost light-headed, the combination of the weed and the pleasure making everything feel hazy and dreamlike.

Your hand in his hair tugged instinctively, pulling him closer, a gasp escaping your lips. “God, Lando, you’re doing so well,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “Just don’t stop, just like that…”

Lando’s eyes flickered up to yours again, the blue almost completely hidden by his pupils, which were blown wide with need. The sound of your voice, your words of praise and pleasure… it was driving him wild.

He intensified his movements, his tongue and lips working more purposefully, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He was lost in the moment, completely focused on your pleasure, on pleasing you. You could feel the tension building within you, the pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. You could feel yourself trembling slightly, your hips shifting instinctively under Lando’s touch.

You tugged on his hair again, a soft gasp escaping your lips. “I’m getting close,” you whispered, your voice a little unsteady. “Don’t stop… just keep going, please…”

Lando let out a low moan at your words, his movements becoming even more eager. He could tell you were getting close, could feel your body trembling under his touch.

His hands moved up your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft skin. He was determined to push you over the edge, his lips and tongue moving with purpose now, his goal clear. You gasped again, your back arching slightly, your hand clenching in his hair. The pleasure was building now, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Lando…” you managed to gasp out, your voice a choked whisper. “I’m… I’m almost…” Using the grip on his hair you push his head further down on your cock his nose brushing against your hair using him like a toy for your pleasure. Lando's protests faded as he surrendered to your demands, a primal instinct taking over. He breathed deeply through his nose, inhaling the musky scent of your arousal, his desire surging.

He was completely under your control now, his body trembling faintly from the sensations and the thrill of submission. His hands moved to your hips, holding you in place. His eyes were locked on your face, watching your reactions, tracking every little twitch and gasp. He was completely focused on pleasuring you, his own needs secondary to yours.

Your grip on his hair tightened again, your breaths coming in quick, sharp gasps now. The sensations were building, pleasure pooling in your stomach, hot and tight.

His tongue flicked out, lapping at you eagerly, his mouth forming a tight seal around you. He could feel you tensing, could sense your impending release. He wanted to taste you, to swallow every drop. He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours as you neared the edge.

Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze, his eyes dark and filled with need. He looked like he was completely consumed by the moment, by the need to please you.

"Lando..." you managed to gasp out, your voice trembling. "I'm... I'm right there, don't stop."

Your body shook with the effort to hold on, to prolong the pleasure for just a few more moments. "Lando... I'm going to..." you gasped, your voice strained and hoarse.

Lando's eyes flashed with triumph at your warning, a wicked grin spreading across his face despite the awkward position. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue swirling rapidly around the tip of your cock while he took you deep, his throat sucking you off expertly.

Your breath caught in your chest, your body arching involuntarily at the sensations coursing through your body. He could feel you throbbing against his tongue, taste the salty drops of pre-cum leaking from the tip. With a muffled groan of encouragement, he took you to the hilt, his nose pressed flush against your pelvis as he swallowed around you, coaxing out your release.

That was all it took before you were spilling your seed down your throat. Lando swallowed eagerly, his throat convulsing around your cock as he greedily gulped down every spurt, not wanting to waste a single drop. As you shuddered through your climax, he continued to suck and lick, drawing out your pleasure until you were completely spent and trembling above him.

With a firm hand in his hair you hold his head still fucking his face riding out your high using him and once you were done You pushed Lando gently but firmly back onto the couch, your eyes fixed on his face. He was still panting from his efforts, his chest heaving, his lips red and swollen.

"Your turn," you said, your voice still a little breathy.

Lando's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and anticipation flickering across his face. He propped himself up on his elbows, his body tense and trembling slightly.

"My turn?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "What... what are you going to do?" You smirked down at him, your eyes roaming over his flushed and breathless form. Your fingers traced a light path down his chest, over his abs, stopping just above the waistband of his jeans.

"I think you know," you said softly, your touch teasing.

You position Lando's arms so that his biceps bulge and flex, the muscles rippling under his tanned skin. You can't help but mark him, biting and kissing his arms, running your hands over the defined muscles.

Lando gasped at the feeling of your teeth and lips on his skin, his body arching up towards you instinctively. His muscles flexed involuntarily as you touched him, the combination of your bites and your kisses sending little jolts of pleasure through his body.

He was completely at your mercy now, his body reacting to your touch, his breath coming in hot, quick pants.

Your heart raced at the sound of his plea, the desperation in his voice. You loved having him like this, completely at your mercy, begging for more.

You moved your mouth to his other bicep, biting and sucking at the skin, leaving a trail of red marks. Your hands continued to roam, tracing over his chest, his abs, and the muscles of his stomach. You were taking your sweet time, enjoying the way he was trembling and arching under your touch.

Lando's fingers curled against the bedsheets, gripping tightly as you continued to touch and mark him. His hips bucked up, seeking friction, any sort of touch that would ease the growing heat between his legs.

You smirked down at him, enjoying the way he was growing more and more desperate with each passing moment. You knew exactly what he needed, what he was craving.

But you weren't going to give it to him just yet. Not when he looked so good like this, begging and pleading for your touch.

"Please, please, please," Lando chanted, his voice breaking with desperation. His vision was starting to blur, his mind fogging over with need. He couldn't take it anymore, he needed something, anything, to relieve the pressure building inside him.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his words, his voice thick with need. He was so desperate, so wrecked, and it was entirely your doing.

You ran your hands down his sides, feeling his body shiver under your touch. "You want something, Lando?" you asked, your voice low and teasing. Lando's head thrashed back and forth on the pillow, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold back. "Y-yes," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Please, I need... I need you to touch me. Please." His voice grew quieter, more vulnerable.

“But I am touching you. I just love your arms so much.” You said lightly biting his bicep. Lando let out a gasp, his eyes widening at the feel of your teeth on his skin. He was trembling now, his body tensing and relaxing under your touch.

Lando let out a frustrated sob, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. "N-no, that's not enough," he whispered, his eyes squeezing shut in desperation. "I need you to touch me down there. Please, just for a second, I promise I'll be good."

Your heart leaped at the sound of his words, your breath catching in your throat. You loved seeing him like this, so needy and desperate, begging you to touch him.

You leaned over him, your lips finding his ear. "You want me to touch you down there, Lando?" you breathed, letting your breath fan over his skin.

Lando shuddered violently at your breath against his ear, a choked moan escaping his lips. "Yes, fuck yes," he gasped, his hips lifting involuntarily as if seeking your touch. His eyes fluttered open, hazy with lust, begging silently for your mercy.

You chuckled lightly at his obvious need, his body practically trembling with it. You ran your fingers slowly down his chest, your goal obvious.

"You want me to make you feel good, Lando?" you asked, your voice a low, sultry murmur. "You want me to make you feel really good?"

Lando's response was immediate and desperate, a needy whine escaping his throat. "Y-yes, please," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. His body was taut, coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. "I'll do anything, just please, please touch me."

Your heart raced at the sound of his words, his voice thick with need. You loved having him like this, completely at your mercy, begging for your touch.

You let your fingers dip lower, tracing over his abs, and his hip bones, before finally coming to rest at the waistband of his jeans.

“god lando have I told you how much I *love* body lately?” you asked looking back up at him.

Lando's breath hitched at the feeling of your fingers dancing over his skin, his body thrumming with anticipation. "Y-you have," he managed to stammer out, his eyes locked on yours as he watched your hands move lower and lower. "But I don't mind hearing it again."

You smirked at his response, enjoying the way he was so focused on your every touch. You teased the skin of his hip for a moment, relishing in the sound of his breathing hitching and growing faster.

"You have a nice body, you know," you said, your voice a low, sultry murmur. "So fit, so muscular...so *toned*."

Lando's chest heaved as he struggled to breathe, his heart pounding in his chest. The way you were talking about his body, the way you were touching him, it was all too much.

“I love your hands too,” you say casually holding his hands and kissing them. “And your fingers,” you said, sucking on one of his fingers, tasting the salt that was mostly from his sweat.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his moans, his body reacting so desperately to your touch. You knew you had him completely at your mercy, that he was helpless under your touch.

You continued to move your mouth over his hand, kissing and licking at his fingers, his palm, his wrist... tasting the salty sweat on his skin and loving every second of it.

Lando's chest heaved with ragged breaths, his heart racing wildly. Every movement of your mouth, every flick of your tongue was sending shockwaves through his body, making him tremble and quake beneath you.

"Please," he begged, his voice a strangled gasp. "Please, I need more, I need you to touch me, please." Lando let out a strangled whimper, his body arching towards you, seeking more of your touch. "More of...anything," he panted, his eyes pleading with you, his voice desperate. "Just keep touching me, please, I can't take it anymore."

You chuckled at his response, unable to resist teasing him a little longer. "Anything, huh? Well, I did say you have a nice body, didn't I...?"

You shifted your position slightly, straddling him now, your hips pressed against his. Lando's breath hitched at the sudden feeling of your weight against him, his eyes widening at the new contact. He let out a strangled gasp as you ground down against him, the friction sending a shockwave of pleasure through his body.

You leaned down, your chest pressed against his, your lips hovering just above his. "You like this... don't you, Lando?" you whispered, your voice low and sultry. "You like feeling me on top of you, don't you? Pressing against you like this...?"

Lando's response was immediate, a desperate whine escaping his lips. He arched up towards you, his hips moving involuntarily against yours. "Y-yes... god, yes," he managed to gasp, his voice thick with need. "I love it, love feeling you on top of me."

“Yeah, I bet you do. You’re nothing but a desperate needy slut who wants to be used any which way don’t you pup?” You say.

Lando whimpers at your words, his body shuddering involuntarily, a mixture of shame and excitement fluttering in his lower stomach. He closes his eyes, not able to look you in the eye as he nods slowly. "Y-yes," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I... I want to be used. By you."

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, your eyes widening in surprise. You hadn't expected him to be so... submissive, but it was clear that he was enjoying every second of it.

You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear, your voice low and sultry. "Are you going to be a good boy for me, Lando?" you murmur. "Are you going to do everything I say?"

Lando's breath hitches again, the hint of a whine escaping his lips. "Y-yes," he murmurs, his voice soft and submissive. "I'll be good, I'll do anything you want, just please keep touching me."

You smile against his skin, thrilled at his response. "Good," you say, pulling back to look at him. "Because I plan to have a lot of fun with you. But let's start with something simple, shall we?"

Lando nods eagerly, his eyes locked on yours, his body trembling with anticipation. "Anything," he whispers, his voice filled with need. "Just tell me what to do."

You sit up a bit, your weight still pressing down on his hips. You reach for his wrists, wrapping your fingers around them and pinning them down above his head. "Keep your hands like this," you instruct. "Don't move them unless I say so."

Lando nods again, his eyes wide as he watches you pin his wrists above his head. He swallows hard, the feeling of helplessness sending a ripple of excitement through his body. "Okay," he whispers, his voice trembling a little.

"Good boy," you murmur, smiling down at him. "Now, don't move. I want to take a look at you."

You shift slightly, your eyes roaming over his body, taking in every inch of him. You love the way he looks like this, his body completely on display for you, his wrists held helplessly above his head.

Lando squirms slightly under your gaze, the feeling of your eyes raking over his body making him feel both exposed and excited. He keeps his hands where you told him to, though it's a struggle to keep them still.

"You're so beautiful, you know that right?" you say softly, your eyes meeting his. "You look so good like this, pinned under me, completely at my mercy."

Lando lets out a ragged gasp at your words, his body arching up involuntarily. "Only for you," he whispers, his voice thick with need. "I'm only like this for you."

"That's right," you murmur, a possessive edge to your voice. "You're mine. Mine to do with as I please."

You lean down, your lips ghosting over his collarbone, your teeth nipping gently at his skin.

“Now what do you want me to do? Hmmm?” You asked adding “Do you want me to ride you or fuck that ass of yours?”

Lando's eyes widen at your question, his breath catching in his chest. He swallows hard, his mind suddenly overwhelmed with the possibilities of what you could do to him.

"I... I don't know," he whispers, his voice a little shaky. "I just want... I want you. I want you to... to do whatever you want to me."

You smile at his response, loving the way he seems so eager to be completely at your mercy. "Are you sure about that, Lando?" you ask, your voice low and silky. "Because I have some ideas."

Lando nods eagerly, his eyes fixed on yours. "I'm sure," he whispers, his voice thick with need. "Please, I just... I want to feel you. In any way you want."

"Then I guess it's my choice then, isn't it?" you say, your smirk widening. "I could ride you...

You pause, letting the image sink in, watching the look on Lando's face as he processes it.

...or I could take what I want from you. From behind."

Lando's breath hitched in his throat at your words, his eyes dilating as he looked up at you. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. His body tensed under your words, his muscles coiling like a snake ready to strike. "From behind?"

"Yes, from behind," you murmur, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Me taking you, using you, however I want?"

Lando's voice comes out as a low, guttural sound, a cross between a whimper and a moan. "Yes... Yes, I would..." He wiggles his hips a little as if to emphasize his point. He's putty in your hands right now.

You smile at the way he responds to you, the way he's so completely at your mercy.

"Good," you whisper, leaning down to brush your lips against his ear. "But first, I want you to tell me something. Something I want to know."

Lando tilts his head slightly, his breath coming in quick little pants as he waits for you to speak. "What... what do you want to know?" he asks, his voice cracking a little with anticipation.

You smirk, your hand running down his chest, your fingers tracing over his abs. "I want to know... have you ever done this before?"

Lando's eyes widen, his cheeks flushing red at your question. He hesitates for a moment, looking up at you with a mixture of embarrassment and shame.

"I... I have," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Once."

You raise an eyebrow, a spark of curiosity in your eyes. "Oh really?" you murmur. "With who?"

Lando's cheeks flame at the question, his eyes averting yours. "N-never mind," he mumbles, suddenly looking embarrassed. "It doesn't matter. It was just... a one-time thing."

You let out a low chuckle, amused by his reaction. "Oh, but I think it does matter," you say, your hand trailing lower, coming to rest on his hip. "Now I want to know."

Lando lets out a shaky breath, his body tremoring slightly under your touch. "It's... it's not a big deal."

He's trying to avoid answering, but you can see the way he's squirming, the way he's avoiding eye contact. Whatever it was, it must have been pretty wild.

"Come on," you murmur, leaning down to brush your lips against his neck. "Just tell me. It won't leave this room."

Your fingers dance over his skin, trying to coax him to open up. Lando lets out a low, shaky breath, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your lips on his neck.

For a moment he's silent, his head tilted back, his body arching into your touch. Finally, he whispers, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “Max.”

You can't help but let out a gasp of surprise at that, your eyes widening. "Max..." you murmur, your mind instantly conjuring up all kinds of scenarios.

"As in Max Verstappen?"

Lando nods, his eyes still squeezed shut, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "Y-yeah," he whispers. "It... it was a few years ago. We were both drunk. It was stupid."

You can't help but smile at his confession, amused by the thought of the two of them together.

"You naughty boy," you murmur, your fingers tracing over his chest. "Have you done anything else with him since?"

Lando's breath hitches in his chest, his eyes flickering open as he looks up at you. "No," he whispers, shaking his head. "Like I said, it was a one-time thing. It was a mistake. A drunken mistake. It meant nothing."

You can see the guilt on his face, the way he's suddenly avoiding your gaze. "Are you sure about that?" you ask, continuing to trace your fingers over his chest. "Did you enjoy it?"

Lando hesitates for a moment, his lips parted in a silent gasp. He's fighting his own body, trying to resist the truth that's written all over him.

Finally, he nods, his eyes meeting yours again. "Y-yeah," he whispers, a shudder rippling through him. "I... I enjoyed it, yeah. Both of us did."

You let out a low chuckle at his confession, the image suddenly crystal clear in your mind.

"Mmm," you murmur, your hand still dancing over his skin. "I can only imagine."

“Now enough of that.” You said your hand moving from Lando's chest to his pants unbuttoning and then unzipping his jeans.

Lando's breath hitches at your touch, his body arching towards you instinctively as you unbutton and unzip his jeans, his hands still obediently pinned above his head.

He looks up at you, his face flushed, his eyes wide with need. "Please," he gasps, his voice thick with desire.

You can feel the tension in his body, the way he's fighting himself, trying to resist the overwhelming need coursing through him.

"Why can't we?" you ask, your voice low and silky. "You want this. I want this. What's the harm?"

Lando bites his lip, a whimper escaping him as you slowly tug down his boxers, freeing his hard length. He's so big and thick, already leaking pre-cum. "I... I race tomorrow," he stutters, a weak excuse even to his ears.

You let out a soft bark of laughter, amused by his attempt to reason with you when his body was begging for your touch.

"We'll keep it simple then," you murmur, wrapping your fingers around his length and giving him a slow, tentative stroke. "We wouldn't want you to overexert yourself. His head falls back against the pillows with a soft gasp. The warmth of your hand feels incredible, and he struggles to maintain his train of thought. "Simple...?" he manages to choke out, his hips unconsciously thrusting into your touch. "What do you... ah... mean..." Lando gasps at your touch, his hips thrusting involuntarily into your hand. "F-fuck," he stutters, his body arching off the bed. "

You chuckle at his reaction, loving the way he's already falling apart under your touch. You continue to stroke him, your movements slow and measured, driving him mad.

Lando whimpers under your touch, his body tense, his hands still obediently holding the position above his head.

"Please," he gasps, his voice tight with need. "I- I can't... I need..."

"Need what?" you ask, your hand still working slowly up and down his length, enjoying the way he's coming undone under your touch. "Tell me”

Lando shivers, his eyes squeezed shut, his body arching up under your touch. "I... I need you," he gasps. "I need more...please...I-"

You love the way he's begging you, the way he's willing to do whatever you tell him to do just to get your touch. "Mmm," you murmur, releasing your grip on him just long enough to reach down and unfasten your pants. "I'll give you more, pup. Just be good for me, okay?"

Lando nods eagerly, his eyes opening to look at you, his expression a mix of desperation and desire. "Y-yeah. I can be good," he whispers, his voice rough with want. "I can be so good for you. Please..."

"That's what I like to hear," you murmur, straddling him, your knees on either side of his hips. You run your hands down his chest, feeling the way his body trembles under your touch.

Lando's breath hitches at your touch, his chest heaving as he gasps for air. His eyes are dark with desire, fixed on yours as he waits for what you're going to do next. "Now, hold perfectly still for me, puppy," you murmur, positioning yourself above him. "Can you do that?"

Lando lets out a ragged gasp, his hands balling into fists above his head, his body tensing to keep himself still. "Y-yeah," he whispers. "I can do that."

"Good boy," you murmur, a smile playing on your lips. You reach down and guide him, positioning him at your entrance, and feeling the way he twitches and pulses against you. "Now, just relax...and let me take care of you.”

Lando lets out a deep moan at the feeling of you taking him, his back arching off the bed, his hips straining to keep still, as he tries to control himself under the overwhelming sensation. "Oh...oh god," he gasps, his voice thick with desperate need. "You feel...you feel so…”

"Yeah?" you say, grinning down at him, loving the way he's struggling to control himself. "You like that, pup?"

“Uh huh,” Lando said in between the weed and the way you were using him for your gain Lando couldn’t think. His mind was hazy but god he felt good… real fucking good.

[badkitty3000]

Powerless

This is based on a request I received for a Five x female reader that is just as brilliant as Five, but too shy to act on her feelings for him.

Summary: You have had your eye on Five since he first started at the university. Eventually you build up a friendship, but even though you pick up a few hints that maybe he wants something more, you just can't bring yourself to act on it. Luckily, Five has more than enough confidence for the both of you.

Five x Female Reader, 9.5k words, One-shot, reader request

Warnings: Smut, dominant Five, explicit sex

Every time you saw him walk past your reference desk at the university library, it became that much more apparent. You wanted him. On the days he wasn’t there, it was easier to pretend that you had no real interest in him outside of the subject matter he lectured about. You told yourself that you were attracted to him on a purely intellectual level, and nothing more. As if the thought of advanced quantum physics got your pulse quickening and your cheeks flushing.

Then there were those days when he would stride purposefully past, a man on a mission, coffee cup in hand, and dressed in his signature tailored suit. That’s when your little lies to yourself became much harder to believe. He would lock eyes with you, scanning your face with his piercing gaze and half-smile, before continuing on his way and suddenly you couldn’t think straight. On those days, if someone approached you for a simple question, like the library hours, you would stare back at them for several seconds before having to clear your parched throat and ask them to repeat themselves. 

Unfortunately, there was no getting around it: Five Hargreeves was not only brilliant, but also sexy as hell. And you couldn’t get him out of your head.

Not that it really mattered. It was no secret that he was a wanted man by most of the staff and students there. You would watch as the more out-going women and men would make a point of cornering him on his way out of his lectures, trying to block the doorway so he couldn’t move around them. Some of them would even find excuses to lightly brush against his arm or shoulder, pretending they were just being friendly, when you knew damn well they just wanted to touch him. You’d had the same urge yourself, but you certainly weren’t going to act on it.

Not only would you never have enough nerve to be that forward, but you have observed his reactions to these advances and it usually does not go well. It’s subtle, but it’s there. The way he flinches slightly at their touches. His obvious disinterest in whatever they are trying to talk to him about. The way he shoulders right past them with hardly a second glance; intent on getting out of there as quickly as possible.

But he always manages to take the route that goes past your desk, pausing sometimes like he wants to say something but then thinks better of it before hurrying away again. 

Five has been working at the same university as you for the past several months. It was a big deal when he was first hired. He was the youngest professor they had ever had on their faculty, and everyone was curious. As it turned out, this twenty-something year old man was not what anyone had expected. He was incredibly smart, but he was also brusque, no-nonsense, and sometimes just flat out mean. When he had started, he was given his own office, but for classes he preferred to use the smaller lecture room inside the vast library, although there were plenty of real classrooms around campus that he could have chosen.

Reputation aside, you were inclined to believe there was more to him than being a young, handsome, snarky genius. You were always observant when it came to people, which was part of the reason you worked at the reference desk when you weren’t working on your doctorate. You liked the quiet of the library, and the smell of the books surrounding you. You liked watching people go about their business and the way they interacted with one another. You also liked helping people, even if you were, by nature, an introvert. When it came to talking about the subject matters that interested you, then it was hard to get you to shut up. Unfortunately, there weren’t too many people that wanted to casually chat about theoretical physics and the illusion of time. Most people just wanted to know where the bathroom was.

So, since his arrival, Five had been on your radar for people-watching, but you had never spoken to him. You had once lingered outside the door of one of his classes, watching as he hurriedly scribbled figures and theories on the board, all while his students tried in vain to keep up. When one would dare to interrupt him and ask a question, there would be an aggravated sigh and a terse answer before he would continue on. The subject matter of string theory and how the concept of time is only a reflection of change was nothing you didn’t already know. You were currently working on your own thesis in that area. At one point, you considered taking a seat in the back of the room, but decided against it. You didn’t really like attention drawn to you, and besides, the class was much too rudimentary. But you never failed to slow your step as you passed by the room when he was teaching, just to hear the sound of his voice.

**********************************

“Excuse me, but I can’t seem to locate this book.”

You were engrossed in your research when a piece of paper floated down onto your desk. You recognized the voice immediately, even before looking up. When you did, there he was, apparently waiting for your response. You had never been that close to him before, and he was possibly even more gorgeous up close. His dark brown, messy hair fell over his eyes as he peered down on you with an amused expression. A dimple started to form on his cheek when the corner of his mouth turned up. He was not a huge man, but he still dwarfed your diminutive stature. Nearly everyone was taller and bigger than you, so that wasn’t new. But the way he held himself and the confidence that he exuded made him appear that much larger. You found yourself wondering what the weight of his body would feel like on top of yours.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” 

You finally got your brain to start working again and you blinked a few times before sputtering out an answer. “What? Oh no, you’re not. I’m sorry…I was just in my own little world I guess. What can I help you with?”

Five pointed down at the paper he had pushed at you. “That.”

On the paper was the name of a physics book that you were already familiar with. “Time: From Concept to Narrative Construct,” you read out loud. You looked back up at him with a small smile. “This is a good one.”

“You’re familiar with it?” Five asked, surprised.

You nodded. “I’ve been consulting it myself for my own research.” Reaching down into your bag that was near your feet, you pulled out a copy. “That’s why you can’t find it. I didn’t think anyone would miss it since it’s just been gathering dust on the shelf for years.”

A genuine smile crossed Five’s face and he leaned in over the desk. “I’ve never met anyone else that would read that voluntarily.”

With a laugh, you held it out to him. “I don’t think I have either. But here you go.”

“No, it’s ok, you can keep it. It sounds like you need it more than I do. What is your research about?”

“I’m currently writing a thesis on the theory of time as a social construct. I know it’s been done, but I’m hoping I can find something new and exciting to add to the field.”

“Very interesting,” he mused while still wearing that sexy, know-it-all smile. He held out his hand for you to shake. “Five Hargreeves. Nice to meet you.”

His hand was warm and firm while his long, slender fingers wrapped around yours. After introducing yourself, you felt your face flush with heat. Just the simple touch of his hand was enough to send a little bolt of pleasure through your body and you looked down at the ground, tucking a strand of your long, brown hair over your ear.

Five seemed to hold onto your hand for longer than necessary, which was nice, but you knew it didn’t mean anything. He had clearly come over here for a book and nothing more.

“Maybe we can meet up sometime and discuss our theories,” he suggested.

You couldn’t believe he was actually suggesting that, but you held in your astonishment and just nodded with a smile. “That would be nice.”

With another cock-sure smirk, Five turned and walked away while you were left sitting there, staring after him with a dreamy look on your face.

The weeks passed and you and Five had become friends. Well, maybe not fully friends; it was hard to say with him. One minute you would be having an in-depth conversation and the next he was saying a quick goodbye and hurrying away. You met for lunch at the university cafeteria to discuss everything from wormholes to the theory of time travel. When you started asking personal questions, though, he tended to shut up. But, that’s ok. You loved your little moments with him and being able to show off your intellect that nobody else appreciated.

“You really are incredibly smart, you know that, right?” Five said one day out of the blue, as you were picking at the wilted lettuce of your salad.

You looked up with raised eyebrows. “Oh…”

“I mean it,” he said, and suddenly his voice was much softer. The way he was looking at you was throwing you for a loop. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re brilliant.”

With your face flushed, you laughed softly. “Thanks, Five.”

He smiled and his green eyes flashed with something like affection before he looked down at his own food. You didn’t know what to make of this exchange, because there was no way in hell that he would be interested in you as anything more than a colleague. There was just no way. You watched as he took a drink of his water, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and you almost made an audible whimpering noise at the sight. What you wouldn’t give to run your lips over his slender neck, and trail kisses under his strong jaw. He caught you staring at him and you quickly looked away.

************************************

The night you decided to go out with your friends, they had picked a loud dance club in the seedier part of town that was definitely not your usual scene. But you really needed a good time out with the girls to relieve some of your academic stress, so you didn’t argue. You wore a tight dress that showed off your petite frame, and curled your hair into waves that hung down your back. You slapped on some dark eye makeup and red lipstick before heading out.

The club was packed, with the music pumping and the dance floor full of people grinding all over one another. You were not in the mood for meeting anyone though, you were just there to hang out with your friends and have a couple of drinks. 

As you shoved your way towards the bar, a hand grabbed onto yours. You instinctively pulled it away, but when you looked up to see who it belonged to, you saw Five. He had a drink in his hand, most likely whiskey or bourbon, and he was dressed in his signature suit. You tried to cover your excitement on seeing him, but you smiled broadly and tried to yell over the thumping bass.

“Five! Why are you here?”

He leaned in close to you to be heard. That was the closest you had ever been to him, with his mouth just inches from your ear. He smelled like aftershave and mint, with a slight hint of the whiskey he’d been drinking. The slight scruff from his cheek scratched lightly against yours for half a second. It was intoxicating and you closed your eyes as he talked.

“I could ask the same of you. This doesn’t seem like your scene.”

You shrugged. “This is where my friends wanted to go, so I just followed along.”

“Is that right? Do you always do what other people tell you to do?”

When you looked at Five’s face, he had that smirk plastered on, and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to be flirty or not. He was just so damn hard to read.

“Depends on the person who is telling me,” you replied with a slight upturn of your red lips before blushing at your own minor innuendo.

A thoughtful look crossed over his face, followed by a slight nod of approval. “I see.” Then he leaned in close to your ear again. “That is very good to know.”

You chose to brush this comment away before it started taking up residence in your brain and causing all sorts of dirty thoughts. He was just trying to have a conversation, that’s all and nothing more. If it was coming across as flirty, it was probably because his drink had loosened him up.

“So, you didn’t answer me before. This place doesn’t seem like your scene, either. Why are you here?”

Five nodded towards the bar where a tall, lanky man in tight pants appeared to have a small group of people engrossed in a story while he gestured animatedly with a shot glass in his hand. “My stupid brother dragged me here.”

“Oh,” you said with a sly grin. “Do you always do what other people tell you to do?”

Five slowly shook his head ‘no’, then took a long drink from his glass, all while looking you in the eyes. “Not really. I’m usually the one calling the shots.”

You swallowed hard, and looked nervously around. You didn’t want him to see you acting like a fool just from some little throw away comment that you were making a big deal about in your head. 

“Well, I was on my way to get a drink.” When he didn’t say anything in return, you continued. “I plan on going out on the dance floor, though.” You paused. “You should join us out there.”

Five laughed sharply. “Oh, fuck no.”

Thinking maybe you insulted him somehow, you looked away again. “Oh, well…ok. I’ll see you around I guess?”

His hand came to rest on your shoulder. “I might not dance,” he said, brushing his cheek against yours as he talked close to your ear again. “But watching you out there would be more than enough entertainment for my night.”

Once again, you were thrown by his comment. It could be taken as flirty, but then again, why would he be flirting with you? He must have been teasing you; insinuating that you would look silly dancing. Suddenly your face was burning again.

“Yeah…ok,” you said quietly, unable to hide your embarrassment. “Bye, Five.”

As you walked away, you felt him staring after you. You didn’t dare turn around, but you could picture the intensity of his gaze on your back. He had rattled you, and because you didn’t know what to make of his comments, you couldn’t decide if you should be annoyed or not. After getting your drink and heading to the dance floor to join your friends, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You had lost track of him in the crowd after your exchange, but you knew he was still there because his brother was still holding court over at the bar. So, the fact that maybe he was watching you made your body tingle with excitement. If he was, then you decided to put on a decent show for him.

For the next hour, you never left the dance floor. The music continued on an endless loop of pounding basslines, while strobe lights flashed over the crowd, dulling your senses and lulling you into a trance. Swaying your body with the beat, hands in the air, while you worked your hips and ass in enticing circles, you lost all of your usual inhibitions. You weren’t sure where your group of friends had gone, but you didn’t care. As you looked out into the sea of strangers surrounding you, one familiar face stood out. 

It was Five, and he was indeed watching you. The strobe lights created an eerie effect of showing him clearly one second, and then gone the next. Each time he reappeared into your view, he was closer. Making his way through the throng of dancers, he slowly neared you, never taking his eyes off you. When he finally reached you, you stopped dancing. It was much too loud and overstimulating on the dance floor to try and talk, so you both stood staring at one another with half-smiles on your faces. After a moment, you started moving with the beat again. Five continued to stand still, his drink in hand. Laughing, you turned around so that you were faced away from him, and continued your sensual dance moves.

You knew you looked good in your tight dress, and even though you still weren't sure of his intentions, you wanted Five to notice. Another minute passed before you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. You were pulled flush with their body as they moved in rhythm with you. Warm breath fanned across your shoulder and neck, and you smiled to yourself. Pushing back against them, you let your head fall back onto their shoulder while your hands came to rest on top of theirs.

“Five…” you started to say as you turned your face towards him.

The face that greeted you, however, was not the one you were expecting. This was a stranger; some man you had never seen before and he was running his hands all over your body while his erection poked into your ass.

You shrieked and tried to pull away. “Get off of me!”

The club was loud and the lights were disorienting as you struggled against the man, but he just held you tighter. You could see the predatory smile on his face, making your skin crawl. Clawing at his arms that were wrapped around you, you tried to throw your body backwards to loosen his grip. That only seemed to make things worse by pushing your ass harder into his groin. You heard him moan next to your ear and you started to panic.

“Let go, you stupid fucker!” you screamed next to his face while trying to kick and pry his arms off of you. You scanned everyone around you, trying to catch the eye of someone that may be able to help. Everyone was lost in their own worlds, and no one was paying any attention to the sexual assault that was occurring just a few feet away.

Something you did must have worked because suddenly his arms were ripped away from you and you were free. There was a loud cry of surprise from the crowd around you, and when you spun around, you saw the offending man lying in a heap on the floor. A circle of people had formed around him while he writhed on the ground holding his bleeding face.

That’s when you saw Five again. He was standing over the man, glaring down at him with a sneer, while his hands remained balled into fists at his sides. As his chest rose and fell with angry breaths, his eyes met yours.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, although no one could hear you. “Five.”

Taking a few stalking steps towards you, he grabbed onto your arm, pulling you to him with a worried look. You couldn’t hear him, but you could read his lips. “Are you ok?” 

You nodded with wide eyes, still trying to fully understand the situation. Before anything else could be said or done, a large bouncer made his way through the crowd. Seeing that there was an injured man on the ground and that Five was clearly the cause of it, he immediately grasped onto Five’s upper arm and pulled him away from you.

“Come on, asshole. Out you go,” he snarled while pushing Five in the direction of the door.

“No wait!” you tried to yell out, but your voice was lost in the deafening music again.

The man Five had clocked had struggled to his feet and was stumbling away, still holding his badly broken nose. The rest of the crowd went back to their previous dancing and the circle filled in again. You were left looking at the back of the bouncer’s head as he forced Five out of the club.

Looking around for your friends, but not seeing them, you pushed your way through the dense dance floor and out into the bar area. It was still crowded, but less so, and the strobe lights weren’t affecting your vision anymore. You saw the door to the club open and close again, with the bouncer walking back towards you, alone, and you hurried towards the exit.

Outside, your ears were ringing as you took in a deep breath of the cool night air. When you saw him sitting on the curb, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Five!” you cried, before hurrying over. He looked up at you through his fringe of hair before sweeping it off his forehead with a smile. “Holy shit.” You sat down next to him, keeping your legs straight out in front of you so that your short dress wouldn’t ride all the way up. “Are you ok?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’m ok. Are you?”

You nodded. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “I saw some creep trying to molest you, and since it didn’t look like you were appreciating it very much, I thought I’d intervene.”

“Wow,” you breathed out, shaking your head. “I had no idea you were the knight in shining armor type.”

“I don’t think my armor is very shiny, it’s pretty tarnished most days,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well, anyway…thank you.”

He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t read, but his facial features had softened. “You’re welcome.”

You glanced down at his right hand. “Oh shit…your hand. It’s all bruised.”

Five flexed his fingers and shook out his hand. “This is nothing. I’ll be fine.”

When you ran a thumb lightly across his reddened knuckles, you thought you heard a hitch in his breathing. But when you looked back at his face, you found it unreadable again.

“Thank you again, Five. Really.”

He nodded and then looked back at the club. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be welcome back there again, not that I’m complaining. But you go back in. Go have fun with your friends.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Sit here until my brother decides he’s had enough of being a slut so I can go home.”

You pulled your mouth to the side in thought and then bumped his shoulder with your own. “You know, that club isn’t all that great. The fresh air feels good, actually.”

Five didn’t say anything, but you did see a slight smile cross his lips before it was gone again. He looked over at you, his face more serious than you’d seen it before, with his eyebrows pulled together in a way that made you want to attack his mouth with your own.

“I used to be special, you know,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I was born with special abilities. The power to time travel and teleport. I had them most of my life. Then they were violently ripped away from me and I haven’t been the same since.”

You stared back at him, not knowing what to make of this. He was clearly joking, but you couldn’t figure out what the joke was. His face was dead serious and his tone of voice conveyed an air of sadness.

“I don’t understand,” you answered hesitantly.

He shook his head with a short laugh and raked a hand through his hair again. “I know, I sound like a lunatic. I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s true.” He looked off into the distance and sighed, pulling his legs up and resting his arms on his knees. “I spent most of my long life cursing the powers I had because they only ever seemed to bring me more misery. But now that I am finally rid of them…I can’t explain it, but it’s…” His voice trailed off as he searched for the word he wanted. “Painful.”

The way he said ‘painful’ cut right to your heart and you lightly rested your fingers on his arm. “What is painful, Five?”

He continued to look out at the dark sky. “You know, back there, when I punched that fucker in the face? That felt so much better than it should have. It was a rush I hadn’t felt in a long time. And yet…it still wasn’t the same. With my powers, I could have really wasted him. Probably would have had some smart-ass comment for him, too. And I sure as shit wouldn’t have been caught by some lumbering, asshole bouncer, no matter how much bigger he was than me.” He sighed again before turning to face you. “I know this makes no sense and you probably think I’m fucking insane, and I’m sorry. I just…fuck…some days I wish I weren’t so goddamn ordinary.”

“Five, you are the least ordinary person I know. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

His eyes searched your face and suddenly you realized how close you were to one another.

“But you don’t believe me, do you?” he softly.

You paused, taking in the sadness that was evident in his eyes. He somehow appeared years older, with the weariness of an older man. What he said made no sense. But you didn't think he was crazy.

“I believe you, Five.”

His eyebrows furrowed even more. “You do?”

“I think so. But I’d love for you to tell me more about it. I’d like to hear about your life.”

“I’d like to tell you,” he said with a slight nod.

A cool breeze passed over you and you shivered. Five shrugged his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders. You resisted the urge to bury your nose into the fabric to inhale the scent of him. Instead, you just smiled. 

“Again, very chivalrous of you,” you teased.

He smiled. “Don’t get used to it.”

After another glance back at the bar behind you, you turned back to Five. “Well, it doesn’t look like the people we came here with are going to be joining us anytime soon. So, how about you tell me everything now.”

“Here?”

“Why not? You’ve got me curious now.”

Five paused. “Yeah, alright. Why not? But just so you know, I won’t blame you if you suddenly want to run back inside or down the street to get away from me.”

You laughed. “I can’t imagine doing that.”

“Well, just wait.”

Over the next hour, you and Five sat on the curb, ignoring the drunken groups of people that would come stumbling past you on their way in or out of the club. You were fully invested in his story. The longer he talked, the more enchanted you became, until it felt like you and he were the only people in the world. He told you all about past timelines, his power to manipulate time and space, and his ultimate downfall that led to a lifetime of loneliness and suffering. He explained about his family and all of their suffering, as well. How he just wanted to save the world and all of them with it. And about how a few years ago, it was all stripped away from him.

“So, being that I had no identity and I looked like a fucking child, I didn’t have a lot of prospects. My family took me in for a while until I figured things out, which I am grateful for but was no picnic. Eventually, I was able to secure a few fake documents in order to get a job and weasel my way into an upstanding position.” He flashed you a devious smile. “That PhD I have hanging in my office? Not exactly legit.”

You laughed, astonished. “You mean you don’t have a doctorate?”

Five shook his head. “Worse. I don’t even have a high school diploma.”

Your mouth hung open for a minute before you let out a loud, long laugh. “Holy shit! You really are a genius!”

Five laughed along with you until you both quieted down and a comfortable calm settled over you both. When he looked at you, he appeared lighter. Like he wasn’t so world-weary anymore.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“Listening. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to talk to about this.” He looked away again. “And I don’t expect you to believe any of it, but the fact that you didn’t run away screaming means a lot.”

“I already told you. I believe you. And thank you, too.”

“For what?”

“Trusting me. Not too many people confide in me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m usually so quiet, or because I’m small and look younger than I am. But no one seems to take me seriously most of the time. So, thank you for seeing something else in me.”

“I see a lot of things in you,” Five said. 

Just as you were about to convince yourself that maybe there was something going on between the two of you after all, the bar door opened behind you, the sound of thumping music and loud laughter spilling out into the night. When you turned, you saw your group of friends come stumbling out, giggling and falling over one another.

“There you are!” one of them laughed, pointing in your direction.

“Ooh, she’s not alone, either.”

As your face burned bright red, another one of your friends made a loud shushing noise. “Shut up, you guys…she’s trying to seal the deal. Damn, girl, go for it! He’s smoking hot!”

“Ok, then…” you said over the loud laughter, barely risking a glance in Five’s direction. You slipped his jacket off and handed it back to him. “I am so sorry. They’re usually not this obnoxious, I swear.”

Five chuckled. “I’m very familiar with being surrounded by obnoxious people.”

You stood up and Five followed. Your friends started to flag down a cab as you awkwardly smiled down at the ground.

“Thanks again for punching that guy.”

“My pleasure.” He paused. “By the way,” Five started with a grin. “I wasn’t initially sure you needed help. It looked like you were enjoying it for a second there.”

When you looked at him, he tilted his head to the side with a cocky smirk, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. Your face burned hotter.

“Um…yeah. I guess I thought it was someone else at first,” you answered truthfully.

“Hmmm…” Five mused. “Interesting.”

Just then, you heard your friends call you over as a cab pulled up. With a wave, you left Five on the curb and got in the car. But the rest of your night was consumed with thoughts of him, and the amazing story he had told you.

*****************************

A week passed and you had been working late. The campus was quiet on the way to your car, but on a whim, you decided to cut through the building where Five kept his office. As luck would have it, you saw the light on behind the frosted glass of the door. You thought briefly of passing right by, but then you gathered enough courage to rap lightly against the frame. After a few seconds, he opened the door.

Looking amazingly fuckable, Five had shed the jacket and vest of his usual three-piece suit, and was left in his white dress shirt and black slacks. His hair was messier than normal, and when your gaze drifted behind him, you saw an opened bottle of whiskey on his desk.

“H-hi,” you stuttered out. “Am I interrupting you?”

Five paused for a second, looking you up and down, before shaking his head slowly. “No.”

He didn’t elaborate and you thought maybe you’d made a mistake coming there, but he suddenly seemed to snap out of whatever haze he had been in. He opened the door wider and gestured inside. “Please, come on in.”

You nodded, stepping inside, and he shut the door behind you with a loud click that made you jump. He was still eyeing you up as he walked to his desk and picked up the bottle of liquor.

“Can I pour you a drink?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

After another moment of silence, with just the slosh of liquid and clink of the bottle against the desk to fill the quiet, Five handed you the glass. You took it from him and his fingers brushed against yours in the process.

You cleared your throat before taking a small sip. The whiskey burned on the way down, but it was delicious. “What are you doing here so late?”

Five shrugged. “Just don’t feel like going home.”

He wasn’t exactly being short with you, but you could tell he was holding something back. After your deep conversation that night outside the club, you felt that you had made a real connection with one another. This, however, seemed like you had taken a step backwards.

“Oh.” You looked around, noticing the somewhat messy mahogany desk that acted as his work station. Behind it rose a wall of bookshelves that were filled with what you imagined to be very advanced physics texts. There didn’t appear to be any real personal items anywhere. No photos of family. No trinkets or tchotchkes on display. Not even any awards or plaques, although you were sure he’d earned some.

“So,” you started nervously. “I’ve figured out my thesis.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. The theory of time travel and its hypothetical consequences on multiple timelines.”

He paused before snorting out a laugh and taking a drink out of his own glass. “Sure you are.”

“I’m serious. You opened my eyes to a whole new world and I want to learn more about it. I thought…you know…I thought you could help me with my research. Since you have first hand experience.”

His eyebrows drew together as he peered at you over his glass. “Why would you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Throw your entire life’s work down the drain for some stupid ass theory that no one is going to believe. They’ll laugh at you.”

You were hurt, but tried to hide it behind a small smile. “People will believe, Five. I believe you. And we have the scientific facts to back it up. Or, at least, you do. But you can teach me. You can explain all of the physics required to work your powers.”

“I don’t have any powers,” he said dryly.

You sighed loudly. “You know what I mean. Come on, I thought you would be excited by this.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I can help with whatever you need.”

There was another awkward pause while you regarded one another, but since he didn’t say anything else, you assumed that was the end of the conversation.

“Thank you. This is really going to change our field, Five, you have no idea.” You set your glass down on the desk. “Well, it’s late, so I’ll leave you be. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

As you moved towards the door, you heard him slam his glass down next to yours. “That’s it?”

When you spun around, you had never seen him looking at you the way that he was right then. You obviously had made him mad in some way, but you weren’t sure what it could have been. His darkened eyes narrowed as they scanned your face and then your body, the muscles in his jaw working in quiet concentration. It unnerved you, but it also made your heart flip in your chest.

“I don’t understand.”

“What more do you want from me?” he asked, voice low and measured.

You swallowed hard, voice trembling as you answered him meekly. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what else to do to make you notice me.”

“I…I do notice you. Of course I do. We have a whole thing…I thought we were friends…I…,” you stammered before he cut you off with a shake of his head and a step towards you that had you backing up.

“That’s not what I mean and you fucking know it,” he stated plainly, right before he took another step and then another, all the while corralling you away from the door and back into the room.

You sucked in a loud breath as your butt hit the desk behind you, trapping you. “Five…I really don’t–”

“Stop,” he hissed. “You’re the smartest person I know, so cut the shit. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Stop pretending that you don’t.”

At that, you felt a fire light inside of you. It was a combination of the months-long hunger you’ve felt for him and the urge to defend yourself against his asshole remarks.

“Whatever the fuck you’re talking about Five, I’m not playing your little guessing game. If you’re accusing me of something, just say it.”

His lips curled into a sinister smile as he crowded into your personal space. “Fine, I can be blunt. I have done everything I can think of these past few months. We had good conversations, we connected; I tried flirting, although I admit I’m not very good at it. I knocked some shit head to the ground for you.” He stopped and swallowed hard, his voice becoming quieter. “I told you everything.”

“But you’re still not telling me what you want,” you argued, trying to stay strong as your eyes drifted to his lips.

“You,” he rasped. “I want you. And I think you fucking know that.”

You shook your head almost imperceptibly. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Liar,” he said with a smirk before closing the few inches between you, making you lean back with your hands supporting you on the desktop behind you. You drew in a sharp breath as his hand trailed gently over your cheek, spreading what felt like fire across your skin as he placed his palm against the side of your neck. “Tell me the truth.”

With a hard, audible swallow, you raised your hand to clasp it around his wrist. His skin was warm against yours and you could feel his thrumming pulse under your fingers. “I want you, too. I just didn’t think–”

Cut off from finishing your thought, Five’s mouth was on yours in a heartbeat. Your lack of resistance was immediate as you gave into him; kissing him urgently as you clenched harder onto his wrist. The quiet whimper that you gave made him smile as he used his teeth to gently nip at your bottom lip.

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” Five said when he pulled away.

“What have you been thinking about, exactly?” you said with a flutter of your eyelashes. You weren’t sure where this new assertiveness was coming from, but you let your free hand slide down the side of his chest and stomach before hooking a finger into the belt loop of his pants. 

A feral look crossed Five’s face as he pressed into you. With an easy twist of his wrist, he forced your hand off of him until he was the one grasping yours. Taking your soft gasp as a positive reaction, he did the same with your other hand. He leaned his head in close, his eyes closing as he brushed his lips against yours for just a second.

“Fucking you,” he replied plainly, as if that were obvious, his voice even and low. He pushed his thigh between your legs. “Right here.” His mouth trailed along your jaw; the scruff of his chin scraping against your neck. “Making you come on my cock while you’re moaning my name.”

As if he put some sort of spell on you, you automatically whined out, “Five…,” as your eyes fell shut and you pressed your groin against his leg.

“Just like that,” he praised with a smirk, holding your wrists just a little tighter. “Only louder.” When your hazel  eyes opened again, they were met with his emerald ones staring steelily down on you. “We could play this game a little more, but I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

You blinked up at him, your lips parted, and you gave him a small nod of assent.

He dove onto your mouth again, his tongue slipping inside, as he squeezed your wrists. When he moaned quietly, his body flush with yours again, you tried to free your hands so that you could feel more of him, but he held tight. When he moved away from your mouth, he slid his soft lips over your cheek and down your neck, nuzzling into you with his nose and chin.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. You’re the only one that understands me,” he whispered before finally letting go of your wrists and boosting you up onto the desk. Your skirt rode up your thighs as you spread your legs just enough to let him stand in between. 

Letting your hands roam over the soft material of his dress shirt, following the curve of his firm, trim waist, and around to his back, you answered him softly. “I do understand you, Five. You’re amazing.”

He didn’t say anything to that, only continued kissing down your neck and over your collarbone. His fingers came to rest at the hem of your sweater, lifting it just slightly above your waistline before stopping. Drawing his head back, he looked deeply into your eyes. That untamed intensity was still there and you held your breath in anticipation of what was going to come next.

“Do you know how to be a good girl?” he asked in that tone that made your mouth water.

His brazenness took you off guard, but only for a second. Fuck, you wanted to be his good girl more than anything. “Yes,” you breathed out a little too eagerly; the panties under your skirt already soaked.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his eyes searching your face and then your chest. “Because I’m going to need you to be very, very good for me.”

You had never been so hot for someone in your life, and you felt like you were going to die if you didn’t feel more of his body on you. He pushed his hips in closer, his hard cock dragging across your pelvis, and enticing you even more.

“Five…” you whimpered.

“Shhh,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you. The feel of his lips against yours and the heat of his skin was too much and you bucked your hips sharply against him, your butt sliding forward on the desk. He drew back from your mouth, breathing hard. “Stay quiet for me, ok, sweetheart? Can you do that?”

With another pathetic nod of your head, you let him completely take command. He pulled your body roughly towards him, moaning quietly as his fervent kisses deepened and you gave yourself over to whatever power he had over you. He could have told you almost anything, and you would have followed his orders. He was all you needed; all you cared about at that moment. And, fuck, if he didn’t feel amazing with his sizeable dick straining in his pants and pressing against you.

Five was back to pulling at the bottom of your shirt, but this time he didn’t stop. You helped him by raising your hands over your head while he yanked it off. Taking a moment to look you over, his hands made their way around to your back, already working at your bra clasp. You didn’t protest, and soon you were topless while his eyes roamed hungrily over your naked chest.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he moaned before attacking your mouth again.

You made soft moaning noises as his fingers grazed over your breasts and down your stomach. You had spent so much time imagining what this would feel like and now it was really happening. He had pulled away again, breathing hard as he watched his own hands as they sensually massaged your tits, before moving down and around again. As he squeezed your ass roughly, you captured his mouth with yours, not willing to wait for him to come to you. He didn’t resist or back off, even as he continued exploring your body. Sucking at his lips, biting voraciously because you couldn’t get enough, you devoured as much of him as you could get. 

Your breath was ragged and harsh as you breathed through your nose, unable to tear yourself away from his delicious taste. With a sudden flinch, Five drew back from you, leaving you panting for air. Raising his hand to his mouth, he pulled his fingers away, showing a small amount of blood on them. Five smiled evilly and licked at his lower lip.

“Biting?”

With a slow smile, you blinked up at him. “I’m sorry. You just taste so damn good.”

He made a humming noise low in his throat as he regarded you thoughtfully. With no warning, he pulled you off of the desktop, and spun you around, ignoring your sharp cry of surprise. With the edge of the desk digging into your lower stomach, you felt Five’s hands on either side of you, his strong fingers grasping at your hips. The unmistakable feeling of his hard cock pushing against your ass was next, and you supported yourself with your hands as you pushed back in response.

One of Five’s arms snaked around to hold you tighter across the front of your waist as he leaned over, covering your back with his body and nuzzling his face against the side of your neck.

“Good girls don’t bite,” he warned, his voice thick with lust. “You lied again.”

You shook your head, your hair hanging down and covering your face. “No, I can be good.”

“Hmmm,” he murmured into your neck. “Let’s see about that.”

Five moved his body so that he had you fully at his mercy. Trapped between him and the desk, you could barely move, and he was strong enough to keep you there as long as he wanted. But you had no desire to leave. Feeling him hard, with his chest heaving against your back, and his harsh breath covering your shoulders, you couldn’t think of any place else you’d rather be. 

His hands were on your tits again, squeezing and pushing them together, all while he sucked painful bruises down your neck. You would be marked with his love bites tomorrow, that much was clear, and there would be no way to fully cover them. You had a feeling that was exactly what he wanted, though. Just the thought of everyone seeing what he had done to you was enough to send another surge of wetness between your legs.

Five’s hands slowly made their way down your sides and then your thighs, before coming to the hem of your skirt. This time, unlike with your sweater, he did not hesitate to pull it up. Bunching it around your waist, you were fully exposed to him, aside from the very small pair of thong underwear you were wearing.

“Oh, fuck,” Five moaned as he caressed your ass cheek, and then gave it a light slap. “God, this ass is perfect.”

He enveloped your entire body again, leaning over you so that your upper half was forced down onto the desk. You let out a whimper and bit at your lower lip in an effort to control yourself. You wanted him so badly it hurt, but you also wanted to be good for him, just like he asked. So instead of crying out and begging for him to fuck you, you stayed quiet. The only signs that you were desperate for him were the harsh sounds of your breathing and the way your ass rhythmically rocked against his crotch as if it had a mind of its own.

His fingers wound into your hair as he gave it a tug, forcing your head back as he whispered softly against your neck; his lips tracing feather-light patterns over your skin, but never kissing you.

“Tell me you want me.”

Your answer caught in your throat as you closed your eyes. “I want you.”

Five moved his mouth down to your shoulder, the vibration of his dark voice sending a blissful chill down your spine.

“Tell me you want my cock.”

“I want your cock,” you whined, not even a little ashamed of your submission or arousal.

When Five’s fingers slid their way around your front and into the side of your panties, you gulped in a loud breath and exhaled with a sigh. He knew what he was doing, that much was clear, and he began quickly working you into a frenzy while you shamelessly rolled your hips with each stroke of his hand. Slowly massaging your throbbing clit with his thumb, he entered you with his middle finger. You were so wet for him that you were dripping down his hand and onto his wrist. That just seemed to urge him on, and he continued to slide in and out of your hole with ease, hitting every nerve on the way, until you were moaning and panting with desire.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded. He sucked another bruise onto your shoulder and pressed his thumb harder against you, making you cry out.

“Yes! Please…I want you to fuck me!”

“Say it again.”

“Five!” you whined pitifully. “I want you to fuck me! I’ve been wanting you to fuck me for so long. Just…please!”

With a quiet laugh, Five removed his fingers from between your legs. In another second, he was pulling your panties down your hips and thighs, until they fell onto the floor. Left in nothing but your bunched up skirt, you waited for his next move.

For a minute, you only heard the rustling of clothing mixed with his harsh breathing. When you looked to the side, you saw his shirt being discarded onto the floor. You instinctually made to turn around, but he immediately placed a hand on your back, keeping you in place. His palm was warm and firm against your bare skin as you submitted to his wordless request. The sound that followed was the clinking of metal on metal as he began to undo his belt with his one free hand.

You involuntarily pushed your ass back, but received nothing in return except for a low chuckle. The agonizingly slow pace with which he was unzipping his fly was killing you. A thin river of your arousal slipped down the inside of your thigh, but you could do nothing but wait.

When finally you felt his warm, thick cock slide against your backside, you let out a shaky groan.

“What do you think, sweet girl?” he teased, rubbing the swollen head between your legs, spreading your wetness over you both. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes…fuck yes…” you gasped. You could barely make out any words; your focus was entirely on his dick and how badly you wanted him inside of you.

You widened your stance when he used his foot to gently nudge your feet apart and allow him better access. His hands grasped at your hips as he pulled you back, and you let your head hang down. 

Five eased his cock into your waiting pussy, pausing a few times as he stretched you open. You forgot to breathe as he pushed slowly into you until you were fully penetrated and you heard him make a low growling noise as his pelvis became flush with your ass.

“Five,” you whispered under your breath as you remembered to take in oxygen again.

“What is it, darling?” he asked, the restraint evident in the tightness of his voice.

You arched your back in desperation and made a sad, crying noise that might have sounded painful if you didn’t answer him loudly. “More! Five, please!”

Hugging you tightly to his chest, his dick still fully buried inside of you, he moaned against your shoulder. “Fuck…you are my good girl, aren’t you?”

After one grunting slap of his hips against your ass, you braced yourself with your hands in preparation. Any restraint that Five had been holding onto before that moment was lost, and he began fucking you hard and rough; pounding his thick cock into you over and over again while you whined and moaned beneath him. He told you how beautiful you were, and how long he had been waiting for this moment, all while driving himself deeper inside of you. His dick was hitting just the right spot and you had never felt this amount of intensity from someone else before. You wanted more. It didn’t matter that he was giving you everything he had, his firm body covering your back and his warm mouth brushing down your neck. You still wanted more.

When his fingers found their way to your clit again, that’s when you started to really lose it. You sounded like you were sobbing as you cried out his name, but it was all from pleasure and you reached down to press his hand harder against you.

“Yes…oh god…fff–oh yeah…oh my god…Fi-ive…aaAHH!”

Right as you were about to tip over the edge, Five pressed his forehead against your shoulder. “Let me come inside you. Please.”

You nodded eagerly and squeaked out a weak “Yes” before fully giving yourself over to the building warmth in your groin. The orgasm that washed over you was the most intense you had ever experienced. Your entire body was trembling as your fingers dug into the desktop and your ass pushed back against him in sporadic thrusts. Five delivered one last punishing drive before his hips stilled and he emptied himself inside of you. Your moans were mixing together, combining with the humid air from your collective panting. The scent of sex and arousal filled the room as hot waves of pleasure pulsed over you both. Five’s last rasping growl faded out as you tried to catch your breath. He held you close to him, his hair tickling your neck as his damp chest heaved against your back.

When he slipped out of you, he placed a soft kiss next to your ear before letting you go and backing away. You turned around, facing him for the first time since he had bent you over the desk. His hair was disheveled, with strands of it sticking to his forehead. His eyes that were once dark and piercing were back to their soft green as he gave you a shy smile and pushed his hair back. You took in his hard body, all sculpted abs and lean muscle. Your mouth watered at just the sight and even though you were still in the process of coming down from the strong orgasm he just gave you, you couldn’t help wanting him again.

“Well…” you said with a smile as you leaned back against the desk. “You may not have a real doctorate, but I can say with certainty that you have earned a very real Phd in fucking, Professor Hargreeves.”

Five’s eyebrows raised up his forehead before letting out a shocked laugh.

“What?” you said with a casual shrug. “I’m an introvert…not a prude.”

“Clearly,” Five noted with a smile before bending down to pull up his pants that were still around his ankles.

“No, no,” you said. “Don’t bother. Just take them off.”

With another pleasantly surprised smile, Five did just that and stepped out of his pants. While you pushed your skirt the rest of the way off, he neared you again, holding you close to his naked body and looking down on you with gentle eyes. His hand came to rest on the side of your face.

“I know I’m not special anymore, but you gave me something back. Something I had lost. Thank you.”

“Five, you are special. You’re special to me.” He leaned down to kiss you sensually, and your body responded immediately, already trying to pull him in for more. “Besides,” you smiled as you perched yourself up on the desk again, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I think you just proved you have all the power you need.”

Five’s arrogant grin grew as he pressed his already hardening cock between your legs. “That I do, sweetheart. But, I think we may need to prove this a few more times.” He kissed you roughly on the mouth. “For science.”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

When Daryl entered the apartment, the day's catch slung over his shoulder, he was greeted with the sound of happy childhood play. It was only another second before you rounded the corner chasing after Judith and RJ with your arms out and some kind of strange papery thing perched on the top of your head.

"We must—Oh!" you froze when you saw him standing there on the mat and his eyebrows lifted. "Hi," you said, giving him a bright smile, the apples of your cheeks warming. "Didn't know you were back," you said, laughing a bit nervously.

"Just got in," he said, smiling at you the tiniest bit as he toed off his boots. "Everythin' okay?" he drawled.

"Oh, yeah! We had—Jude, slow down!—we had a blast," you laughed again.

"Thanks for watchin' 'em." His eyes wandered up to the papery thing on your head. "Ya look ridiculous in that thing," he said, but he was still smiling and his blue eyes seemed extra bright. "What is it, a party hat?" he chuckled. RJ and Judith skidded into the room again.

"Uncle Daryl!" He ruffled their hair and gave both of them big bear hugs. RJ reached out to touch the soft fur of the rabbits on his game stringer.

"A party hat?!" you repeated. "It's my helmet! Jude made it for me!"

She beamed.

"Helmet? What are ya, football player?" he asked.

"Football—? No! Obviously, I'm a knight, Daryl," you said. "It's my armor helmet!"

He chuckled again. "Righ'. Sorry. Of course yer a knight," he said fondly. You felt a wash of heat in your face and chest as his eyes met yours again, soft and smiling. "Yer stayin' for dinner then?" he asked, slinging his pack down beside the front door.

"Well, I don't know. I'll have to ask the prince and princess," you said, bowing to Jude and RJ who both broke into giggles again.

Jude came and grabbed your hand, tugging on it. "Please, please, pleeeease stay for dinner!"

"Your wish is my command!" you said dramatically. RJ and Jude cheered and raced into the living room again.

Daryl was shaking his head, a boyish smile on his face. "Ya know if ya keep this up, they ain't ever gonna let ya leave."

You sighed, finally pulling the paper hat from your head. Your eye contact with Daryl was magnetic. You shrugged. "That wouldn't be the worst thing..."

He shook his head, chewing on his bottom lip a moment. "Nah. Wouldn't be at all."

Prompt: "You look ridiculous in that thing."

[apoemaday]

Wildly Constant

by Anne Carson

Sky before dawn is blackish green. Perhaps a sign. I should learn more about signs.

Turning a corner to the harbour the wind hits me a punch in the face.

I always walk in the morning, I don’t know why anymore. Life is short.

My shadow goes before me. With its hood up it looks like a foghorn.

Ice on the road. Ice on the sidewalk. Nowhere to step.

It’s better to step where the little black stones are. Not so slippery.

I guess the little black stones could be lava. Or do I exoticise.

A man hurries past with a small dog. No one says Hello.

A pink schoolgirl passes. Looks in my face. No one says Hello.

Who would expect to see a walking foghorn out so early.

Wind pushes more. I push back. Almost home.

Why did I come here. New wind every day. Life is for pushing back.

Now it is dawn. A gold eyelid opens over the harbour.

People who live here learn not to complain about the wind.

I go inside and make tea. Eat bran flakes. Read three pages of Proust.

Proust is complaining (it is 1914) about the verb savoir as used by journalists.

He says they use it not as a sign of the future but as a sign of their desires –

sign of what they want the future to be. What’s wrong with that? I think. I should learn more about signs.

The first thing I saw the first morning I went out for a walk in Stykkishólmur was a crow

as big as a chair. What’s that chair doing on top of that house? I thought then it flapped away.

A crow that big is called a raven. Corvus corax in Linnaeus’s binomial system. Each one makes a sound

like a whole townful of ravens in the country I come from. Three adjectives that recur

in the literature on ravens are omnivorous. Pernicious.

Monogamous. I’m interested in monogamous. I got married last May

and had my honeymoon in Stykkishólmur. This year I returned to Stykkishólmur to live with my husband

for three months in one small room. This extreme monogamy proved almost too much for us.

Rather than murder each other we rented a second place (Greta’s house)

near the pool. Now we are happily duogamous.

There are ravens on the roof of both places. Perhaps they are the same ravens.

I can’t tell. If Roni Horn were here she’d say ravens

are like water, they are wildly constant. They are a sign of Iceland.

I should learn more about signs. I came to Stykkishólmur to live in a library.

The library contains not books but glaciers. The glaciers are upright.

Silent. As perfectly ordered as books would be. But they are melted.

What would it be like to live in a library of melted books.

With sentences streaming over the floor and all the punctuation settled to the bottom as a residue.

It would be confusing. Unforgivable. A great adventure.

Roni Horn once told me that one of the Antarctic explorers said To be having an adventure

is a sign of incompetence. When I am feeling at my most incompetent

as I do in Stykkishólmur many a dark morning walking into the wind,

I try to conjure in mind something that is the opposite of incompetence. For example the egg.

This perfect form. Perfect content. Perfect food.

In your dreams said a more recent explorer (Anna Freud) you can have your eggs cooked as perfectly as you want

but you cannot eat them. Sometimes at night when I can’t sleep

because of the wind I go and stand in the library of glaciers.

I stand in another world. Not the past not the future. Not paradise not reality not

a dream. An other competence, Wild and constant.

Who knows why it exists. I stand amid glaciers. Listen to the wind outside

falling towards me from the outer edges of night and space. I have no theory of why we are here

or what any of us is a sign of. But a room of melted glaciers rocking in the nightwind of Stykkishólmur

is a good place to ponder it. Each glacier is lit from underneath as memory is.

Proust says memory is of two kinds. There is the daily struggle to recall where we put our reading glasses

and there is a deeper gust of longing that comes up from the bottom of the heart

involuntarily. At sudden times. For surprise reasons.

Here is an excerpt from a letter Proust wrote in 1913: We think we no longer love our dead

but that is because we do not remember them: suddenly we catch sight of an old glove

and burst into tears. Before leaving the library I turn off the lights.

The glaciers go dark. Then I return to Greta’s house. Wake up my husband.

Ask him to make us some eggs.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 19

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Nothing

A/N: This is lowkey a pretty boring chapter lol but i really didnt wanna just jump right into the next bit, so ill probably post the next one right after!

The bar was alive with the familiar buzz of laughter, clinking glasses, and low music, but tonight felt different. Tonight, you and Bucky weren’t just walking into your usual booth as friends, as two people who danced around each other for years. Tonight, you were something more, and everyone would know it.

Bucky’s hand brushed against yours as you entered, a subtle but grounding gesture. His fingers lingered, warm and steady, before he finally slid his arm around your waist. You glanced up at him, catching the small, reassuring smile he shot your way. For years, you’d craved moments like this. Now, they were real, and the world felt a little steadier.

Sam was the first to notice, his gaze snapping to the two of you as you approached the booth. He froze mid-sip of his beer, his eyes widening before he stood up dramatically, spreading his arms wide. “Well, holy shit! Would you look at this! Holding hands and everything! Hallelujah—finally!!”

The table fell silent, all eyes turning toward you. Natasha and Wanda exchanged knowing smirks, and Steve, seated in his usual corner spot, leaned forward slightly, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as he took it all in.

Bucky chuckled low in his throat, squeezing your waist as he nudged you forward. “Well,” he said, smirking at Sam, “someone had to put you out of your misery eventually.”

“Oh, please,” Sam shot back, grinning. “My misery? Barnes, you’ve been in love with her since the dinosaurs roamed the earth. I’m just glad the rest of us don’t have to watch you suffer anymore.”

Wanda let out an excited squeal, practically jumping up to pull you into a tight hug. “Finally!” she exclaimed. “You two were driving me crazy. I’m so happy for you!”

You laughed softly, the warmth of their reactions easing the tension that had been building in your chest all week. “Thanks, Wanda,” you murmured. “It means a lot.”

Natasha leaned back against the booth, crossing her arms with a smug grin. “Took you long enough,” she drawled. “But I’ll admit, the slow burn was fun to watch. Better than reality TV.”

The group burst into laughter, the energy at the table light and easy. Bucky slid into the booth, pulling you down beside him. His arm rested casually along the back of your seat, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as if he couldn’t help but touch you.

But then your eyes flicked to Steve.

He hadn’t said anything yet. He was sitting in his usual corner spot, nursing a glass of whiskey, his face calm but carefully guarded. His eyes flicked between you and Bucky for a fraction of a second before he finally smiled—a polite, distant smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Congratulations,” Steve said, his tone kind but restrained. “You both deserve to be happy.”

Your stomach twisted. The cracks in his mask were subtle, but you could see them. You wanted to say something, to reassure him that this didn’t change anything between you, but before you could find the words, Steve leaned back in his seat and took a long sip of his drink, effectively removing himself from the moment.

You forced yourself to smile, but your chest felt tight. Bucky’s hand brushed against your shoulder, pulling your attention back to him. “You good?” he murmured, his blue eyes searching yours.

You nodded, offering him a soft smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”

But as the group started talking and laughing again, you couldn’t help but notice the way Steve’s eyes lingered on his drink. And when Natasha leaned across the table to whisper something to Wanda, you caught her glance at Steve, her gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite place—longing, frustration, maybe even sadness.

Your chest tightened further. You were happy, truly, but there was an unshakable weight that came with knowing the ripple effects your relationship with Bucky had on the group. The laughter continued around you, and Bucky’s arm stayed firmly around your shoulders, his warmth anchoring you. But every time you met Steve’s eyes across the table, a small pang of guilt twisted in your stomach.

You weren’t just navigating a new chapter with Bucky; you were navigating the fragile balance of a friendship that felt more delicate than ever. And as you caught Natasha watching Steve, who was watching you.

The bar was alive with the warm buzz of chatter and laughter, your group nestled into the corner booth like you always were, drinks scattered across the table. For the first time in what felt like forever, things felt… normal. Easy.

Sam was halfway through an animated story about one of his more adventurous days at the VA, his hands flying around as he described some “wild” shuffleboard tournament involving a 92-year-old named Agnes. “And I swear to God, she hustled me. Agnes had that killer glint in her eye. I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everyone burst out laughing, Wanda clutching her stomach while Natasha shook her head, muttering, “Should’ve seen that coming, Wilson. Never trust anyone with that much bingo experience.”

Bucky’s laugh came deep and unrestrained, his head tilting back as his free hand squeezed your leg. His other hand, resting on your knee, gently rubbed small circles into your skin as if grounding you, even through his laughter. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver of happiness through you. You looked over at him, your chest tightening when you saw the pure joy in his face, the crinkle of his eyes, the twinkle in them as they caught the low bar light. This was your Bucky. This was home.

And in that moment, everything felt right. The weight of the last few weeks lifted, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to simply exist in the bubble of joy that surrounded your friends.

But then, your gaze wandered.

Across the table, Natasha sat beside Steve, her hand casually toying with the edge of her glass. At first, it was nothing out of the ordinary—Natasha, composed as always, listening to the group’s banter with her usual smirk. But then, as Steve leaned forward to share his own jab at Sam, her eyes lingered.

And that’s when you saw it. Really saw it. The way her gaze softened as she looked at Steve. The way her lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, one that seemed reserved only for him. The way her fingers, usually so deliberate and precise, nervously traced patterns on the rim of her glass. It hit you like a freight train— how could you have been so oblivious before?

Your stomach dropped, and your mind spun. How had you missed this? All the little moments, the quiet exchanges, the way her demeanor shifted when he was around—it all clicked into place, a puzzle you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

Steve, blissfully unaware, was chuckling at Sam’s next ridiculous quip, his broad shoulders shaking as he leaned back in the booth. Natasha’s eyes followed him, her expression softening further, almost imperceptibly.

You wanted to say something, to acknowledge it somehow, but before you could, the server appeared with a tray of shots, breaking the moment. “Alright, next round!” the server announced, setting the tray down with a flourish.

Everyone cheered, grabbing their glasses and raising them high. Bucky leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You okay?” he asked softly, his hand giving your leg a gentle squeeze.

You forced a smile, nodding as you grabbed a shot. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

His eyes lingered on you for a second longer, searching, before he smiled and pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “You worry too much sweet girl, but im here no matter what's going on in that pretty little head” he murmured, his words a promise.

The group clinked glasses, Sam yelling, “To Agnes and her ruthless shuffleboard skills!” before throwing back his drink. The warmth of the whiskey burned your throat, but it didn’t quite chase away the new weight in your chest.

As the night carried on, the laughter and teasing continued, but your eyes kept drifting back to Natasha and Steve. You couldn’t unsee it now, couldn’t ignore the quiet longing in her gaze, the way she seemed to absorb every little thing Steve did. And for the first time, you realized just how deeply entwined all of your lives were—how every choice, every relationship, every word could ripple through your group in ways none of you could fully predict.

But for now, you let yourself focus on the warmth of Bucky beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his laugh like a lifeline tethering you to the present. Whatever the future held—for Steve, for Natasha, for all of you—you’d face it together. But tonight? Tonight, you’d hold onto this moment, this joy, just a little bit longer.

When the night finally wound down, Steve excused himself before the rest of the group, his usual good-natured demeanor replaced by a quiet reserve. His steps were quick, purposeful, like he needed to get away before anyone could stop him. But you couldn’t let him leave like this.

“Steve,” you called softly, your voice catching in your throat.

He paused, his shoulders stiff as he slowly turned to face you. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his face calm and composed—but his eyes betrayed him, dark and heavy with emotions he couldn’t hide. “Hey,” he said, his tone too casual, too forced. “What’s up?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you took a tentative step closer. The cool night air bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. “I just… I need to know if you’re okay.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It never did these days. “Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Steve,” you said more firmly, your brows furrowing as you searched his face. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know this is… hard. And if you need anything, if you need time away from me, I—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice low but resolute. “I don’t need space. I don’t want space. I don’t want to lose you, even if…” He trailed off, his jaw clenching slightly before he continued. “Even if things feel complicated right now.”

His words twisted something inside you, and for a moment, all you could do was nod. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you whispered. “I just—I don’t know how to make this easier for you.”

Steve let out a quiet laugh, but it was bitter, devoid of humor. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands like he was trying to ground himself. “You can’t, and I wouldn’t ask you to. It’s not your job to make this easier for me.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the weight in his gaze stopped you.

“Look,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with resignation. “I’m happy for you. For both of you. I’ll figure out the rest on my own. I always do.”

The silence between you was deafening, and you could feel the walls Steve had so carefully built pressing between you. You hated it—hated that you couldn’t bridge the gap, that you couldn’t fix this.

Finally, he sighed, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “You know,” he began, his tone quiet but laden with sadness, “there was a time I thought maybe… if I’d said something sooner, things would’ve been different.”

Your heart clenched painfully, and you couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes. “Steve…”

He gave you a small, sad smile, waving off your words. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I didn’t, and that’s on me. But it’s not all bad. You’ve got your happy ending now, and… I’ll find mine eventually.”

You reached out instinctively, your fingers wrapping gently around his hand. “You deserve the world, Steve. And when you find someone, they’re going to be the luckiest girl alive.”

His smile faltered, just for a second, before he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

The sound of the bar door opening behind you pulled you both from the moment. You glanced over your shoulder, and there was Bucky, stepping out into the cool air. His expression softened as his eyes landed on you, and without hesitation, he walked over, his hand finding its place on the small of your back. The touch was subtle, comforting, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore.

Bucky’s voice was gentle but edged with curiosity. “Everything okay?”

You nodded quickly, brushing at your cheek as you turned back to him. “Yeah. Just needed a minute with Steve.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked to Steve, and there was a moment of silence, a quiet understanding passing between them. “Hey, man,” Bucky said, his tone genuine. “Can we talk for a second?”

You hesitated, your gaze bouncing between the two of them, but Steve gave you a reassuring nod. “Go on,” you murmured to Bucky, stepping slightly to the side.

Bucky leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll see you inside,” he murmured, before turning to Steve.

As they moved a few steps away, you stayed rooted to the spot, watching them. Your heart felt heavy but strangely hopeful as Bucky and Steve exchanged quiet words, their silhouettes outlined by the streetlights. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could see the respect in their stances, the way they were trying—really trying—to make this work.

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy like the weight of all the years they’d shared. The hum of the bar behind them was a distant echo, muted compared to the tension in the cool night air.

Bucky leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees, his head bowed slightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, raw. “Steve… I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just—”

“Stop,” Steve interrupted, holding up a hand, his tone resigned but calm. “You don’t have to explain, Buck. I’ve had plenty of time to figure it out.” He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head as his gaze flicked up to meet Bucky’s. “She was always meant for you. I get that.”

Bucky froze, guilt and sorrow etched into every line of his face. “That doesn’t make it right,” he said hoarsely. “You’re my best friend, Steve. And I—”

“You love her,” Steve said, cutting him off again, his voice softer now but no less certain. “And she loves you. That’s all that matters.”

Bucky’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. The words should have offered relief, but they only deepened the ache in his chest. “It’s not that simple,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “It’s never been that simple. You were always there for her when I wasn’t. You picked up the pieces when I messed up. I don’t know how to fix that.”

Steve let out a long breath, leaning back against the wall, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “It’s not about fixing anything, Buck. It’s not about me, either.” His lips curved into a sad smile. “She chose you. She’s always chosen you, even when she didn’t know it.”

Bucky’s hands clenched into fists on his knees, his knuckles whitening. “And you? You’re just supposed to what? Move on? Pretend it doesn’t hurt?”

Steve let out a dry, humorless laugh. “What else is there to do? You think I haven’t known all these years? I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Buck. The way you look at her.” He glanced down at his boots, his voice dipping lower. “I never stood a chance. Not really. But I always held out hope.”

Bucky flinched at his words, his chest tightening painfully. “Steve…”

“Don’t,” Steve said, his tone firm but not unkind. He looked up, his blue eyes steady despite the sadness swimming in them. “You don’t have to apologize for loving her, Buck. You think I wouldn’t have done the same if I were in your shoes?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered but understood. Bucky’s head dipped, his jaw working as he struggled to find the right words. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked finally, his voice quiet, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Steve hesitated, then offered a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll get there,” he said honestly. “It’s not easy, but it’s not supposed to be. Just… don’t screw this up, okay? She deserves someone who’s all in. Someone who won’t run the second it gets messy.”

Bucky let out a small, broken laugh, his eyes glistening under the streetlights. “I won’t. I promise. She’s it for me, Steve.”

Steve nodded, his expression softening as he pushed off the wall. “Good. Then do right by her.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulder, his grip firm but brief, and took a step back toward the bar. “Now get inside before she starts thinking we’re out here plotting something.”

Bucky watched as Steve turned and walked back toward the entrance, his silhouette illuminated by the warm glow of the bar lights. The tension in his chest eased slightly, but the weight of their conversation lingered.

“Steve,” Bucky called after him, his voice steady but earnest.

Steve paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Bucky said simply, the word carrying more weight than he could ever fully express.

Steve’s lips twitched into a small, genuine smile. “Always, Buck.”

And with that, he disappeared into the bar, leaving Bucky standing alone under the stars, more determined than ever not to let Steve—or you—down.

The morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a soft golden glow across the apartment. The city was still waking up, the distant hum of life filtering through the cracks of the world outside. Inside, everything was still—quiet but warm.

You shuffled out of your room, still in your oversized sleep shirt and fuzzy socks, rubbing your eyes as the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit you. The sight that greeted you was enough to make your heart do a little flip.

Bucky was standing at the stove, shirtless, his gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His hair was a mess of soft waves from sleep, and he had one hand on the frying pan, the other holding a spatula as he carefully flipped pancakes. The muscles in his back flexed with every movement, and for a moment, you just stood there, taking it all in.

“You’re staring, doll,” he said, his voice gravelly from sleep but tinged with amusement. He didn’t even turn around; he just knew you were there.

You smirked, padding over to the counter where the coffee pot sat waiting. “What gave it away?”

“I’ve got a sixth sense when it comes to you.” He glanced over his shoulder, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Or maybe I just heard you stumble into the wall on your way out here.”

You rolled your eyes, pouring yourself a mug of coffee. “It’s too early for you to start with me, Barnes.”

“Never too early,” he shot back, returning his attention to the pancakes. “Besides, you love it.”

“Debatable,” you teased, taking a sip of your coffee. You leaned against the counter, watching him move with ease around the kitchen. “What’s all this, anyway?”

“Thought I’d make you breakfast,” he said, plating a stack of pancakes and setting them on the counter. “Figured it’s the least I can do since you’re stuck with me as a roommate.”

You raised an eyebrow, grabbing a fork from the drawer. “Oh, so now you’re trying to bribe me into keeping you around?”

Bucky smirked, finally turning to face you, his arms crossing over his broad chest. “Something like that. Is it working?”

You pretended to think about it, twirling a piece of pancake on your fork. “Hmm… I don’t know. You do hog the covers at night.”

“Lies,” he countered, stepping closer and leaning against the counter beside you. “You’re the one who turns into a human burrito and leaves me with, like, a sliver of blanket.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” you admitted with a laugh. “But you snore.”

He laughed, his head tilting back, and the sound was so pure, so carefree, it made your chest ache in the best way. “I do not snore.”

“Do too.”

“You’re imagining it, baby,” he said, leaning in a little closer, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Admit it—you just like having me close.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it.”

You didn’t deny it. Instead, you nudged him with your shoulder, breaking the momentary tension with a grin. “What’s the plan for guys’ night tonight?”

“Sam’s got some stupid idea about poker and whiskey,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Probably just gonna end with Steve lecturing us about the health risks of drinking too much.”

“And you’ll love every second of it,” you teased, taking another bite of pancake.

As you leaned back against the counter, sipping the last of your coffee, Bucky nudged your hip with his. “What’s the plan for girls’ night? Anything exciting, or is it just the usual chaos?”

You grinned, setting your mug down. “The usual. Probably face masks, way too much wine, maybe even a terrible rom-com. It’s a sacred tradition.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds dangerous. You think you’ll bring up the whole Steve and Natasha thing?”

You froze for a second, his question catching you off guard. “Why would you think I’d bring that up?” you asked, feigning innocence.

He shot you a look, one eyebrow arching. “Oh, come on. I know you. It’s been bugging you since the bar last night. You think I didn’t see the way you were watching them? Your eyes were practically glued to them.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yeah, well… maybe I will. She used to do it to me all the time, so I think it’s only fair.”

“Do you, though?” Bucky asked, leaning a little closer. His voice was softer now, less teasing and more thoughtful. “Do you think it’s fair to poke at her about it?”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s with the sudden wisdom, Barnes?”

He smirked, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just saying, Nat’s not you. You’ve always been a little more… open about your feelings. She keeps her cards close, you know? You might not get the reaction you’re hoping for.”

“I’m not hoping for a reaction,” you said, though even you didn’t sound convinced. “I just… I don’t know, Buck. I’ve been thinking about how much she must’ve been holding in, how long she’s felt that way about Steve. And now I feel like an idiot for not seeing it before.”

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, grounding. “You’re not an idiot. You were caught up in your own stuff. Nat’s good at hiding things—trust me, I’ve been on the receiving end of that more times than I can count.”

You sighed again, the weight of everything settling in your chest. “I just feel like I should say something, you know? Like, if I don’t, it’s like I’m ignoring it. And she deserves more than that.”

Bucky tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “Just… be careful, okay? Nat’s not as tough as she makes herself seem sometimes. She’s been there for you through a lot, and I know you want to be there for her. Just… don’t push too hard.”

You nodded, his words sinking in. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he teased, grinning. “I’m always right.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Barnes.”

“Hey,” he said, his grin widening as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re the one who’s stuck with me now, sweetheart. Might as well get used to it.”

You tilted your head up, your eyes meeting his. “Oh, I’m used to it. Doesn’t mean I won’t call you out on your nonsense.”

“Fair enough,” he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Now, promise me you won’t stir the pot too much tonight?”

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin. “No promises.”

“Figures,” he muttered, shaking his head with mock exasperation.

As he turned back to the sink to rinse the dishes, you watched him for a moment, a warm, contented feeling blooming in your chest. It was moments like this—simple, easy mornings together—that made everything else feel worth it.

And tonight? Tonight you’d handle Natasha in your own way. You just hoped she’d be ready for it.