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lokischocolatefountain · 1 month ago

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Battlefront | At Your Service

Fandom: Gladiator II Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x Empress!Reader Rating: M Word count: 5.3k words Summary: General Acacius returns energized by battle when an unexpected guest makes themselves at home in his tent. Warnings: Historical inaccuracies, some historical accuracies, poor description of battle strategy. A/N: Listen, I know Rome never had a single reigning Empress. But seeing loyal husband Marcus Acacius has made me eschew historical accuracy. If Ridley Scott can have characters reading newspapers before their invention, I can have Marcus Acacius being devoted to his powerful Empress wife. I'm thinking of making it a lose series with snippets of these characters' lives together. Like my Married Javi series. So lmk if there's anything you want to read about them.

“What are you doing here?”

The sounds of battle still rang in his ears. The strategies he’d laid out playing out in his vision as he sought to identify problems he could have failed to spot. His heart was restless, every beat reminding him how high the stakes were, reminding him that every young man there was his responsibility. And then you appeared.

Like the brain cooled the body, the sight of you cooled him.

“You dare ask what I do at my own battlefront?” You asked, an eyebrow raised. He stood in place as you took small steps towards him. He rushed ahead, calling attention to his broad shoulders that narrowed down to his waist. Your pace was wholly inadequate for his liking.

“This is not the battlefront, Caesarea,” he said, stopping in front of you and taking your hand in his. “These are my private quarters.” He bowed and placed a kiss on the back of your hand, looking up at you from behind soft brown eyes you did not believe capable of inspiring fear until you witnessed him in battle.

“You forget your place, General. You have no authority to deny me entrance to my husband’s quarters,” you teased. His eyes darkened at your words and the implications they bore. Your relationship had been a delicate one since the two of you left childhood behind. But it was only more so with you on the throne and him the General at your command.

“If you wish to assert your marital rights at this moment, know I will have to as well,” he warned, his hands itching to be upon you. Unlike his soldiers, Acacius had gone many months without the touch of a woman. Some high ranking officers brought their wives and some indulged in whores. Not Acacius.

“What man asks to claim his marital rights? I believed I belonged to a man who knew what was his and conquered it.”

It was all he needed to close the distance between you. In an instant, your fearsome general, covered in the blood of enemies and grime of their land he claimed, pulled you to his chest. His large hands engulfed your face. His lips came crashing against yours, desperate and sloppy. You instinctively reached up to one, caressing his rough hand with your soft one. Teeth clashed against each other. Saliva dribbled down his lips, transferring the dried blood on his face to yours. Smearing you with evidence of his devotion. To you and to Rome.

His hard iron armor covered in leather and embossed with gold dug into your chest in his desperation to feel you. One hand slipped to your neck, holding you in place with the force of a soldier and authority of a husband. His other hand slipped to your hip, rough as he guided you towards the thin mattress on the floor.

“I must have you…” he growled into your ear as his hands groped around through your clothes. He grabbed every part of you he could think of, squeezing as though planting flags on a territory he’d already claimed.

You nodded, the gold and gems that dangled from your ears glinting under the light of the torches that illuminated his quarters.

“Good,” he muttered, pushing your coat off your shoulders, catching it before it fell to the ground and discarding it on a chair. The clips and fasteners that kept your linen, silk, and wool too intricate for his impatience, he tore through anything that did not yield. Delicate fabrics met their end at the hands of the ravenous beast he became at the battlefront, revealing delicious skin underneath. He needed this. Needed to plunge into your tight, wet hole and spend the aggressive energy that coursed through his veins.

He took whores, but that was before he wed you. Married men took other women both back home and especially when at war. As long as they were whores or any other women lower than his wife’s status. It was expected, encouraged. But he was married to the Empress. Anyone he took would be a disrespect to her. Sure, many mocked him behind his back as the Empress’ wife. It did not bother him. Not anymore.

When men depended on one’s instructions to survive each day, they ceased to question his manhood. Further, it was hard to question a man’s ability when he lead the mightiest army the world had seen to victory.

You were beautifully exposed in front of him, your veil, stola, and palla lying in defeat on the ground. Only your tunica, exposing your legs and the shape of your breasts. His lips claimed your neck, biting and sucking on everywhere he knew you favored the way he expertly mapped and attacked the vulnerabilities of enemy territory.

Every bit of skin he touched lit a fire in your belly, replacing the weeks of agonizing solitude with only your inadequate fingers for release.

Buried in your neck, he inhaled your scent, of your sweat combined with the roses and attar from Arabia. He licked, grunting when your gold necklace tainted the taste of your skin. Reaching behind you, he tugged at the fastener, growling when it proved too delicate to be undone by his large fingers. You let out a laugh before slapping his hand away and undoing the offending jewelry in one swift moment. He liked you bare. Needed to rid you of any object that interfered with his preference be it fabric or lustrous gold and gems.

You were an oasis in the desert. For a man surrounded by young men with nothing but rage and fear coursing through their veins. No bath fully cleansed him of enemy blood, mud and grime. Grace to the gods, you were not a woman repulsed by his gory state of being.

You whimpered as he forced you to the ground, laying you out on his small mattress before climbing atop. The pteruges of his armor tickled your thighs as he hovered above you.

“Marcus…I have longed for you every night,” you whispered, your words clenching his heart. You did not have the luxuries that other royal women enjoyed. The wealth and adoration came with a sword at your neck and the weight of all of Rome and her people. Rare was the opportunity to only be a woman in the arms of your husband.

“I think of you day and night. My duty to my Empress by day, my duties to my wife at night,” he said, peppering kisses along your jaw. You sighed, curving away from him to expose more of yourself for his kisses.

“Do your duty then. And allow me to do mine,” you said, reaching below to caress his thigh.

He searched under his pillow and retrieved his dagger. He tucked the tip of the cold blade under your strophium. You gasped as he cut through the layers, your breasts spilling from their restraints. Hands that for months only knew the reins of his horse and the handle of his sword relished in the softness of your breasts. He was no barbarian. He knew to treat a woman with gentle touch and loving words.

His appetite, however, was quick to defeat the gentle Acacius who was allowed his Empress’ hand in marriage. Your breasts filled his hands perfectly, like the gods had shaped them for his sake. For his touch. For his children to feed from. The image formed in the back of his mind, his child drinking from your full breasts as your belly grew with another. His cock twitched at the thought and he acted, forcing your legs apart with his knees.

Fear joined a familiar ache in the pit of your stomach as he slid the blade down your chest, resting it near your core. Your nails dug into his arm and your core throbbed with need. You yelped as he cut through your subligar. The night air caressed your cunt forcing you to feel how wet his bestial acts made you. Your hips bucked up in search of him, desperate to fill the void he’d left in his absence.

He traced the dagger further below and rested it on your thigh. His eyes exuded a hunger you’d seen only in the exotic beasts that devoured gladiators. “Stay still,” he said and placed a soothing hand on your trembling thigh as the other reigned terror on its counterpart. With your nod of understanding, he moved the blade closer and closer until–

You shrieked as the cold blade sat at the edge of your opening. Before you could comprehend, he brought it up before your eyes and licked the blunt edge. His eyes closed and a moan rumbled from his chest as he tasted your arousal.

“You drip for me, melilla.”

“I have been aching for you,” you said through trembling breaths, thinking of every night you touched yourself in his memory. He had made your body his, rending separation tartarus on land. The closest your cunt had felt of him was the ring from his pinky he placed on your middle finger before his departure.

He tossed the dagger aside and it landed with a clang. Your cunt clenched at the sound, thrilled by his animalistic want for you. He cupped your core in his hand, parted your lips and plunged two fingers inside you. It was already much more than you had in his absence, his thick fingers filling you better than your own.

“Please,” you whimpered as he worked you open, your cunt dripping around his fingers with each stroke. He was always gentle with you, but not this time. You didn’t want him gentle. In peacetime, he bowed to you as your loyal subject. In war, when he overflowed with masculine power, you wanted him forceful. Wanted him atop you, taking you with the same ruthless power he did enemy land. You wanted to be unburdened of the weight of your empire if only for a moment. Be husband and wife, not General and Empress.

His hand slipped under your head, grabbing your hair between his fingers. You hissed at the sting of his grip on your hair and reached for his arm instinctively. He withdrew his fingers, pushing them between your lips when you whined to be filled. As you tasted yourself, he aligned his cock up with your weeping entrance. You choked out a sob as he split you open with his cock, your walls burning at the stretch. Tears clouded your vision, but you blinked them away to see your dearest, handsome even in war. Your bejeweled fingers weaved through his dark curls, needing to touch the familiar parts of the man you’d so long yearned to reunite with.

His own hand and a few whores was satisfactory when he was a lone general who did not know the taste of a woman he called his own. He doubted he could find someone else to satisfy his desires now that he had you. His men found this sentiment strange as they chose to relieve their stress with whores and slaves.

None of those fools had the fucking Empress waiting for them at home.

“Look at you…” he rasped, luxuriating at the vision. You were divine. All goddess-like in your beauty even lying on his thin mattress, hair strewn across his pillow and your hairpins coming undone under his grip. No dingy military camp was worthy of a visit from such an ethereal creature. But you were no simple Lady content to stay in the palace surrounded by your riches. He doubted he could stop you from visiting him even if you weren’t the Empress but only his dear wife.

“You like me this way,” he said instead of asking. He did not need to ask. He had seen how you looked at him when he wore his armor. No stranger to combat, the blood and gore did not seem to rattle you. His other campaigns found you in the camps for celebrations. Too many times, he had to keep you at arm’s length out of respect for your station. Now that you belonged to him…

“Always… Always liked my General so. Always wanted to pounce upon you and fight those girls you chose over me.”

He snorted at the jealousy that returned to your visage though he was now all yours. “My severed head would have joined the barbarians had I defiled the Princess, my dear.”

“You should have abstained,” you said, the smile that played at your lips all he needed to know it was but a jest.

“And deprive you of the fruits of my experience with the female form?” He taunted, angling himself to stroke the particularly sensitive place inside you. Your lips opened in a small circle, whatever witty remark you’d concocted now dissolved into a pathetic moan.

He pawed at your breasts, his large hands and the loss of etiquette making you feel mauled by a beast. You pushed up from the ground and into his hands, sobbing as he tugged your nipples, adding to the pain of penetration. He took you in long, hard thrusts, your needy cunt pulling him back in each time he withdrew. Each stroke soothed the pain he bestowed, eased by how he had you leaking around him.

“I need, I need… please,” you begged, too occupied by your lust to find better words.

“Anything you want, Carissima,” he whimpered, bending down and claiming your lips. He smelled of war. Of mud and blood and something vile that should repulse you. He did not kiss like he usually did. Did not explore you and drink your sweet sounds. He took you, forced your lips apart and invaded with his tongue. He bit and drew blood, the taste of iron adding to the familiar taste of your beloved.

“Anything,” he growled, filling you deeper. “I will make you feel me between your legs for days. Make you wince in pain when you ride your horse,” he said, his hot breath and the threat making you shudder. “Would you like that? Like the people who bow to you smell me on you? Make you strategize with my seed dripping down your legs under your dress?”

“Macrus, want…please” you blubbered, your intelligence leaving from his vicious ravaging. Your thighs burned from how wide he spread you to fit himself between your legs. It was an agonizing stretch without the aid of any oils, without his lips easing you open for his thickness. But none of it mattered for you ached more with longing.

Fully immersed in you, he placed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as though he were meditating. He was heavy, his large frame that mowed through enemy men and swung weighty swords through necks now being used to contain you. He took your breath away not only with his stature but with his beauty. You liked to believe him sculpted by the gods to put you in his thrall. To tame the wild princess into the tempered Empress Rome needed.

You needed him to move, to fuck you so thoroughly you would feel him with every move you made until you could reunite once again. But you did not have heart to push him. Not when he looked like a devotee at the shrine of his goddess.

All men thought of in the midst of war was the people they left behind. It did not change when one rose to command the entire Roman army. He opened his eyes, sighing with relief when he found you still there beneath him. He had dreamt so many times lying all alone that he was home with you. He dreamt that the war had ended and he was sat by your side as you read scrolls from senators and discussed fucking sanitation of all things. He dreamt of you returning to his arms, of your kisses and your tight cunt holding him inside you. You were never there when he woke up.

He pinned your wrists above your head, desperate to contain you so he wouldn’t be separated from you again.

This was no dream. Even dreams of you didn’t feel as elysian as your true form. He fucked you in short thrusts, grinding against your clit as he did. You dug your heels into his lower back, your hips rising up to meet his thrusts. He cupped your cheek in one hand and you melted into his touch, confounded by his contradictions. He brought your hand between your bodies and you took his direction, rubbing your clit as he returned to a brutal pace.

He grabbed your hip for purchase, his other hand mauling your breast. His balls slapped against your skin, the lewd sounds of skin against skin sounding through the camp.

You cried his name as he rammed into you over and over until you could no longer find an ounce of regard for propriety in you. Word would’ve spread that you were here. Everyone knew the General to be fiercely loyal. Now they would know it was their Empress in the tent moaning like a whore taking their General’s cock. You clenched tight around him at the scandalous thought, wrapping your arms around him to anchor yourself to reality.

He pulled you up off the ground and onto his lap, bouncing you up and down his cock as you kept yourself wrapped around him. You grabbed his hair and pressed yourself against his chest. His dark brown eyes bored into yours, soft even as he fucked you with animalistic vigor. You kissed him, his growl devolving into a mewl like a lion tamed. Your heart beat against your ribs, longing to escape its confines to find the man it belonged to.

You trailed kisses across every bit of exposed skin. The patch above his jaw where his beard never grew called out to your lips and you rewarded it with kisses. He returned them, his strong aquiline nose pressing against your cheekbone.

Full of him, the world disappeared from your thoughts. Your hips moved of its own accord, taking him deeper as he bounced you up and down his cock.

“What d’you think they would say?” he taunted, breathless from the exertion. “Their unshakable Empress being used by her husband in the camps. Your perfect hair tangled, your jewels on the ground,” he growled and you simply mewled, the shame coursing through you only aiding him as he hammered into you.

“Answer me,” he commanded, punctuating the words with harsh thrust. You opened and closed your mouth, eyes trained on his fiery ones as he demanded what he made you incapable of doing. A sob emerged deep from your chest, the only sign you were present in your body.

He let out a mocking laugh. “All of Rome bows to your rousing speeches yet you become mute with a cock stuffing you full.”

You whimpered his name, or you thought you did. You couldn’t be sure of anything in this state. Your thighs shook from the force of his thrusts and your hip hurt where his fingers dug in. Sounds you did not know yourself capable of producing escaped your lips. The fire in your belly blazed wilder and your vision blackened. You felt the pressure wind tighter and tighter. You threw your head back in pleasure, whimpering when you felt his lips on your neck. He lapped at your skin, devouring your natural taste and your sweat. He nipped and bit, mumbling words of praise you couldn’t make out in your dazed state.

His name mixed with curses flowed from your lips as pleasure hit you like lightning. You felt your back hit the floor, your legs folded up as he rammed into you. Your hole spasmed around him as he continued taking you for himself but you lay limp, spent. His warm sticky spend spurted inside you, dripping out onto your thighs and his thin mattress as he buried himself deep before collapsing on top.

He tucked his head in the nape of your neck, panting as you both came down to Earth from the heavens. His body weighed heavy on you, as did his armor. He took the breath out of your lungs but you did not want to be without him. It was the antidote for your aching heart.

“That was quite the welcome, General,” you said, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I did not receive such treatment the last time.”

“You were the crown princess when you last visited me in the battlefront.”

“Ah. You needed me on the throne before serving me this way?” You teased, knowing full well how it pained him to restrain himself from having you before he won approval for your hand in marriage.

“I needed the Emperor to not have my head for defiling his daughter so,” he said, rolling you over and pulling you down by your arms against his chest when you attempted to sit up. You giggled as he placed kisses all over, delighted by how playful he became once he took his aggressive energy out on you.

“He should not have given his General his daughter’s hand in marriage if he was worried about that.”

“Mmm, I don’t know dear. The princess was quite insistent she would only wed the General. Threatened to be caught in the General’s bed if denied.”

“Yes. I hope you are grateful,” you said, giving him your hand adorned in rings, the one he gave you from his little finger gleaming brighter than the rest. He took your hand and kissed it, his eyes so soft with love and devotion for you that you could hardly reconcile them with the hunger they exuded just moments before. The words were merely a jest, but he was indeed grateful.

He was celebrated for his prowess in battle. For the many victories he brought Rome. Many men deluded themselves into the belief that this entitled them a victory of the princess’ hand. Not Acacius. Though your hearts reached out for one other through the years, you were the only one with the courage to act upon it. The one to show the Emperor why only he would be the right companion to a woman on Rome’s throne. For that, he would forever be grateful.

“How goes the battle?” you asked, getting up and depriving him of your warmth. He grabbed a scrap of fabric that was once your tunica and tossed it at you. You caught it and whispered a thank you before cleaning yourself up.

“Who is asking? My Empress or my wife?” He asked, propping himself up with his hands.

“Would your answers vary?”

“They would.”

“Give me both answers, General. Husband.” You asked, wrapping your furs around you and sitting back on his chair.

“Caesarea,” he said, finally rising up. Something shifted between you. Your voice had altered from its girlish relaxed state. Wool covered your body. You were perched on his seat while he stood in front of you in submission to your authority. “We anticipated many deaths from illness but have been spared such tragedy by the grace of the gods. The Eastern front has advanced into the barbarians' territory and they have retreated. However, I expect them to recuperate and retaliate. Our men are advancing faster to take advantage of their momentary retreat. The Northern front is not faring well. Not as we’d hoped. We have received intelligence that the barbarians have armed even women and children to attack.”

“What is your next course of action?”

“We’ve sent troops up North and we need more men to replace them. I was hoping you would grant approval for a few more men from our reserves.”

“How many?”

“One century and a centurion to replace the ones I sent north, and twenty cavalrymen.”

“And how soon do you need them?”

“We can not hold out longer than seven days. Or we stand to lose ground in the East.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Seven days are… It is not enough time. I must send word with Decimus and the men would take time to arrive.”

“I understand.”

“I hope you have told the men you’ve sent North to limit casualties. We are to rule over these people once you have conquered their land. I imagine killing their wives and children wouldn’t endear them to us.”

“I have, yes. They are under the leadership of a good man- Faunus. He trained under me. I know him to be determined and level headed. Has children of his own as well.”

“Being a father doesn’t stop many men from killing children. They simply learn not to see those children as children at all.”

“I have seen that too.”

“I trust your judgment, Marcus. Let us hope you are right about Faunus and his men. What of the rations? Are they adequate?”

“I hear more grains are coming our way from the last harvest. If true, we will not be in want of food.”

“It is, indeed. Is there anything else my General needs?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

“No. Nothing that needs your immediate attention.”

“Well, then tell me what answer you would give your wife. About how the war is going.”

He smiled, his eyes softening and his shoulders relaxing at the permission to change role from General to husband. He stepped closer to you and caged you in with his hands on the armrests. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips and felt you relax. As he spoke, he peppered kisses across your face, enjoying his effect on you. “I would tell you that the end of the war is closer than it was the last time I wrote you. That I long for you every hour I spend in this wretched place. I would reassure you that I am unharmed and ask you to prepare our home for my arrival.”

“Are you?”

He tilted his head in question, making you clarify yourself, “Unharmed. I need to see.”

“Is that why you have come so far? To ensure I am unharmed?”

“Perhaps. I did not want my men to believe their Empress had forgotten them. I come bearing gifts. Letters from families who have not accompanied officers. Fresh fruits and nuts. Toys and books for the children. Some hearings to handle as you said in your letters. To boost morale.”

“You have already succeeded with me there, my dear. My morale is higher than ever,” he said, nipping playfully at your ear and making you giggle. “Back to bed now,” he said and you obliged, wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing him to carry you.

“A happy General makes for happy soldiers.”

“Perhaps I’m not happy enough,” he said, laying you out on his bed, gentle unlike the man he was a while ago. “You must do more, my dearest. For the sake of the poor soldiers.”

You giggled and pulled him down to your chest, sighing when his weight settled on you. You traced the gold plating on his armor with a finger idly, saying, “Oh, iff it is for the soldiers…”

He laughed with you and the two of you lied together, quietly taking each other in. Other high ranking men in your army had the privilege of bringing their families to the barracks, but not your husband. You hadn’t the duty to keep your home but to keep your empire. Though opposition to having you on the throne had begun to dwindle, you did not feel secure in your position. You couldn’t afford peace of mind. There was disease and conflicts awaiting your attention. Plebeians to care for without angering the patricians. Marcus unburdened you of all worries about the war for you knew he would bring victory to Rome. But you worried as wives did about whether their husbands would return at all.

“I will be here for four days,” you spoke up, needing a distraction from your burgeoning fears. “I must see to a few disagreements. Inspect the troops. Maybe I will even polish your swords like a good wife ought to.”

“Oh? What else will you do?”

You squinted, thinking of what else the women in the barracks did for their men that you knew to do. You couldn’t cook. Didn’t know to wash clothes. Did not yet have children to raise. You could spar with him, but that was frowned upon and not at all wifely.

“Clean your quarters?”

“My quarters are clean, Princess,” he laughed softly. You pushed at his chest playfully but he didn’t budge. It had been a long time since you could push him around physically.

“I am not a Princess anymore.”

“I meant it as a term of endearment, not as your title.”

“Surely there is something I can do. I will have time aside from my duties to our people.”

“When you do, mea vita…” he whispered, hot breath tickling your ear. “Lie back here and open your legs for me.”

“Whatever for?” You teased, wearing an expression of confusion as you pretended to think of the answers.

“To do your duty to your husband. To please me,” he said, parting your coat and cupping your sex in his hand. He swept his ejaculate that dripped down your thighs and pushed it back inside you. He wanted it to take. Wanted you full and round with his child when he arrived in Rome victorious. It was their duty, yes. But he wanted children for more than duty and legacy’s sake. He wanted to experience the joy he witnessed in his men when they shared stories of their fatherhood. He could recall a time when he fought only to sate his bloodlust. Since you became more than his friend, more than his Princess, he began fighting to return home to you. He wanted one day to fight with his children in mind.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you with practiced ease. You trembled, sensitive from his rough use, but did not pull away. You needed this.

“Have I not pleased you enough?” You asked, only half teasing. You did not have much experience with carnal pleasure. There were a few men and several women in your past. But the men were not interested in teaching you to please them. It wasn’t entirely their fault, of course. You did not want to please anyone before Marcus. It was a source of insecurity. You’d seen how women swarmed him since he developed from a little boy who sparred with you to a broad shouldered man with a deep voice. What if you were inadequate?

“You are simply too delectable, my dear. Each time I believe myself satisfied, I only want more of you.”

“I have duties to Rome. I can’t always be in your bed.” That was another insecurity you had. That he would find you lacking in wifely duties as compared to other women, those who did not have Rome on their shoulders.

“We barely had each other a week before I was sent here.”

“Mmm… She sounds cruel, your Empress. Separating you from your new wife so early.” He could see how you sought to bury your fears with humor. Duty to Rome and your love plagued you despite reassurances of his unconditional support. The elders often turned their nose up at you, found you lacking as a woman. Though you’d proven yourself both in battle and in administration, old men set in their ways refused to accept you as Empress. Many already whispered about you not having conceived a child.

“She is not cruel. My Empress,” he said, smiling. He wouldn't have you doubting his trust in you, be it as Empress or wife. Everyone was you tartarus, but he would only be your peace. “She is just. She is brave and kind with intellect as sharp as the tip of my sword. The right person to lead Rome into prosperity.”

You melted into his arms and he held you close to his chest, heavy with the weight of doing right by the Roman Princess who lent little Acacius her sword when he couldn’t afford one.

⌘ ⌘ ⌘

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mistydeyes · 1 year ago

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hiiiii I LOVE YOUR WORK!!!!!!!! Can you please do 141 with a model reader who does Chanel,Versace etc and she gets an invite to do Victoria’s Secret runway and they see her down the runway how would they react

she’s not any model shes and icon,sex symbol,brains,she is the moment

big inspo for me ( I want to become a model)

AHHH I LOVE THIS! anon i feel you tho, every time i look on pinterest i just want to be a model! thank you for requesting <3

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summary: The 141 has always had an odd connection of friends, allies, and connections. However, they can't deny that they don't enjoy your luxurious life as a model and the perks that come along with attending one of your shows.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

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A series of events in Milan allowed the 141 to cross paths with you. Staying in a lavish French penthouse was far from what they had expected on a mission dictated by Laswell but her connections with your retired INTERPOL mother had brought them the extravagance of your home and lifestyle. Laswell had to threaten to have their court marshaled if they delayed their arrival home any longer. You thought of that brief moment in summer fondly as you left Gaz a voicemail. "I have a runway in New York coming up, let me know if you'll be on leave," you spoke on the phone, examining your manicured nails, "accommodations and champagne are on me."

"This is nice," Price said, dropping his duffle onto the marbled tile of their hotel room. "Are you kidding, Cap?" Gaz said as he opened every door into the massive suite, "This is fucking amazing." When they got off the plane at JFK, they had not expected a private driver who brought them to the ornate hotel. The room itself had four separate bedrooms with two bathrooms filled with the best amenities. Soap had taken the opportunity to run over and open a bottle of champagne while Ghost pilfered the small shampoo and conditioner bottles. While the men explored the vast rooms and fought over the beds, there was a knock at the door. Price opened it to reveal a well-dressed bell-hop boy, holding a tray with an envelope. "Four tickets sent by one of the models," he spoke and Price handled the black envelope with embossed pink lettering. "Hell of invitation," he muttered before he looked at the runway time and shared the details with his team. "Wonder what she'll be wearing," Soap mused as he turned to take over one of the bathrooms.

Behind the stage, there was organized chaos with models running around in their silk robes in between the stations. The chatter roared as they chatted with the various hair stylists and makeup artists. "First VS show?" your makeup artist asked as she applied glitter delicately to your primed lids. "Yes, but not my first modeling gig," you smiled as you felt the pressure on your closed eyes, "Versace was beyond a mess compared to this." The artist laughed as she continued to prep your look. You could see mixes of pink and gold applied to your lips and the apples of your cheeks. "We think an olive green liner would look stunning on you," she said before holding a green eyeliner pencil in hand. You nodded in response as you shifted a bit in your robe. You gently closed your eyes again as you envisioned your latest outfit for the night.

Weeks prior you had visited the city to see your outfit for the night. A sage green bra and panty set decorated with pink and glittery flowers to resemble a meadow. Your wings were made of a delicate rose pink chiffon that was reminiscent of a fairy. "Do you like?" the designer asked as you walked around the stand and examined every stitch and detail. You smiled as you nodded happily, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips. "Any particular inspiration?" you questioned as you made sure to feel the weight of the wings. "The newest line of Victoria's Secret," she spoke dreamily, "the delicacy of nature."

With your makeup and hair done, you walked over to change and receive the final touches from the design team. The group walked rapidly around your figure, assuring every detail would shine when the lights hit your walk. "Have anyone special here tonight?" one of the designers asked as he cut a few loose stitches. "Just a few friends from Europe," you spoke, hoping you didn't sound too entitled. You wanted to talk more but your odd friendship with a small special forces group would definitely reach some tabloids. "You look perfect darling," another designer spoke and you nodded before beginning to walk in your heels. "You can mingle with the others. Your collection is after the classics set," she reminded. You took a deep breath and made some facetious conversation with the other women. They were in awe at your previous shows but you just simply talked as if each was a mediocre experience. "Alright ladies, walk begins in five," a voice called over the comms and you lined up accordingly. As you watched the excited group in front of you, you wondered what you would treat the 141 to for dinner. You were sure if someone knew this is what you thought of before a show, they would laugh.

"Move up, Y/N," the stage manager directed, pulling you out of your food-related musings, "almost time for you to go on." You moved forward, getting into the comfort of your model walk you had done so many times before. You took a deep breath as you heard the live music stream through the curtains and the ethereal light peek through. You looked down at your attire one last time before the model ahead of you returned and it was your turn to awe the show. "Go, go, go," you could hear the stage manager command as the bright lights and menagerie of faces met your gaze.

"I think this is her!" Gaz commented, leaning forward in his chair. "You've been saying that for the past four models," Ghost corrected before he turned to see who was coming out next. As the men directed their gaze to the stage, you confidently strutted onto the platform. They were glued to your figure, perfectly accentuated by the flirtatious lingerie set. The details were delicate and encapsulated your aura. "Fuck." Soap whispered under his breath as the glitter and flower additions to your ensemble shimmered underneath the light. Your wings bounced and looked like they flittered in the air as you made your way in front of the watching crowd. "She's a natural at this," Price commented as he watched the way you walked in a straight line with an air of elegance in each step. He also couldn't deny the way you shined on stage and how the cameras clicked in rapid succession. As you reached the end of the runway, you took an opportunity to look over at the seats you had picked for the 141. You gave a small wink before blowing a kiss in their direction.

Upon your exiting, there was a clamor amongst the group as to who the kiss was directed to. Primarily, Soap and Gaz were at odds thinking you made eye contact with them as you puckered your glossed lips. Price attempted to put a stop to them before Ghost spoke up. "I'm sure that was for me," he spoke quietly, leaving everyone to shelf the conversation and bring it up later over dinner.

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ourfag · 20 days ago

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stede approximately 7 hours after meeting ed (they have been talking this whole time): —especially wildflowers cuz i hardly ever saw any. my father’s house—he kept the lawn completely manicured, just this…depressingly plain…… er, plane

ed: a plain plane?

stede, moving his hand back and forth parallel to the ground (to indicate a plane): that’s right, it was—well, it was sort of a…small plain, i guess, landscape-wise, but it—a really plain plane of a plain

ed, following every word of this: sounds like a pain

stede: fuck ugly. all that grass and no bugs!

ed, now sort of seeing the appeal when you phrase it like that but not saying anything bc fuck dads and fuck the rich and also he thinks its hot when stede complains: like a golf course

stede: eerily like a golf course

ed: did y—actually, i’m afraid to ask.

stede: ooh, go on

ed: …did you ever use it at all? like, for…fancy people barbecues, or…?

stede, becoming increasingly irate about it all: not even—we mowed it, is what we did with it. and we had—my father’d got it from his father, it was—he had me using this little—one of those lawnmowers that look like egg beaters, y’know—

ed: awwwgh, the old-timey ones?

stede: like a push-along that also cuts people’s fingers off

ed: did you cut anybody’s fingers off?

stede: i came pretty damn close once

ed: physically or emotionally

stede: emotionally, mostly. i had a wishlist to santa on the line, i wasn’t gonna risk that

ed: you had—hang on, how old were you when this was happening

stede: i think i was about fifteen

ed:

stede: NOBODY TOLD ME!!!

ed: bro

stede: if anything i think my parents kept it going on purpose. so it’s him i’d get upset with

ed: oh you didn’t like santa then

stede: such a relief to learn he’s made up, i thought he hated me

ed: oh no. what??? why? what the fuck’d they do to you??

stede: nothing egregious, just….. every year i’d write to him, and i’d be explicit about what type of thing i definitely didn’t want, and every christmas that’s what he got me. bb guns, boxing gloves, g. i. joe…

ed: :(

stede: …paraphernalia from dad’s alma mater…there was one year i got to the bottom of the stairs and went, “oh god, santa’s fucked it. that’s all clearly meant for someone else.” so every year after that, santa put my name on everything. just to make sure i knew. embossed, sometimes.

ed: aw. mate, if i’m honest, that does strike me as kind of egregious

stede: well, they were nice things

ed: yeah but he knew you didn’t want em and he gave em to you anyway when they could’ve gone to, i dunno, some rough-and-tumble kid who’d be over the moon about a bb gun… what were you hoping for? what did stede want?

stede: i remember the big one i asked for was always a lawnmower

ed:

ed: OHHH yeah to liberate you from the push-along?

stede: all the time i was push-alonging i’d have daydreams about those big rideable ones

ed’s brain (separately from ed): any lawnmower’s rideable if you’re enough of a pervert

ed, internally, to his brain: i cannot fucking say that to him

ed’s mouth, without permission: any lawnmower—

ed:

stede: ?

ed, sweating: an—an-any lawnmower jokes?

stede, face lighting up because nobody’s asked him that before and he’s got half a dozen ready to go: OOH YES HERE’S ONE—

#taking advantage of these crashless moments to finish and post this one that i found in my drafts #didnt even mean for it to be seasonally relevant it just did that on its own #miss you all still 💌💌💌

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gfmima · 1 year ago

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c. 文豪ストレイドッグス BEAST | bsd BEAST + f!reader t. how he deals with you when you’re jealous

akutagawa leans back in his armchair, the room immersed in a soft, amber hue from the floor lamp; thin fingers trace over the spine of the novel in his hand, absentmindedly feeling the embossed letters under his touch. the normally stern expression on his face bore a hint of frustration as he sent a covert glance in your direction.

the tension in the air was unmistakable — plain to see, hard to dismiss — an unspoken rift between the two of you. what did he do? he asked for tea, a roundabout way of extending an olive branch.

alas, what he got was your wordless indifference, a pointed silence that stretched like an invisible barrier.

he can’t help but recall the catalyst for your weird behavior. honestly, he can’t fathom what you wanted him to do? what you wanted from him? in his mind, you were acting without reason.

at the end of the day, he was in a relationship with you. why must he assuage your concerns about higuchi’s foolish infatuation with him when it had been set in stone he loves you, not her? he can admit he could’ve handled it better for your sake, however, what had been said was said and there was no changing it.

now, as he sat there, he can’t deny that it did matter, even a teensy-weeny bit, and he had a gnawing feeling that he had underestimated the depth of your emotions.

these four walls closed in on him, slowly it compelled him to do something — hell, say anything! he let his stoicism to get the best of him, failing his duty as your boyfriend to be sensitive about the hurt he caused. a sigh escapes his lips…

“i said, can you brew me some tea?” akutagawa tried to ask once more, as he turns a page in his novel. though his gaze remains on the first line of dialogue, he didn’t digest a word; his mind wanders elsewhere.

“why don’t you ask your other girlfriend instead? she always looks very happy to help you.” and continue to work on your laptop screen.

your response, though expected, stung nonetheless. a slick retort delivered without even a glimpse towards him.

the air felt increasingly stifling as the silence persisted, only disturbed by the sound of your fingers on the keyboard. a growing sense of unease casts a shadow over him, he didn’t foresee this level of confrontation, especially from you of all people.

“exactly how long do you intend to behave this way?”

“i could ask you the same thing,” your reply catches him off guard, “how else do you expect me to behave? how would you feel if there was another man interested in me? and i do nothing to prevent it?”

the atmosphere grew colder and colder by the second as he contemplates. he struggles to articulate his feelings to you, his quietude serving as an admission of sorts.

“do you see why i’m upset, ryūnosuke?” your parting words landed on him like a sudden hit to the chest.

he grumbles, “you’re so annoying…”

akutagawa hooks his foot around your ankle, a tiny gesture for reconciliation, albeit a reluctant one. with arms crossed, he averts his gaze, the environment overwrought with unresolved emotions.

“wow, so i’m annoying, huh? you’re the one who can’t even acknowledge my feelings!” your tone drips with irritation as you finally look up to meet his eyes, and for a moment, you could see a hint of exasperation in his irises.

“use your brain — it’s not as if i asked her to like me!”

“but you could make it clear where your heart lies!”

the air fell into an uncomfortable silence yet again, neither one willing to yield. it was frustrating to be caught in a standoff with the man you love, but your jealousy had taken over and you weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily.

your boyfriend utters what you can assume to be a string of obscenities under his breath, as his shoulders collapse. “fine.” he concedes, “i’ll speak to her and make it clear that we’re very much together.”

you raise a brow.

you genuinely didn’t expect him to make the first move and relent. normally, you’d have to be the bigger person and let him have the last say, which often resulted in very late night talks with your friends.

“really? you will?”

he nods. “if that’s what it takes to end your childish worries, then so be it. i’ll tell her.”

the playful roll of your eyes couldn’t hide the way your heart swelled with affection for him. despite his gruff exterior, he cares about your feelings! you uncross your arms, reaching out to place your hand gently on his cheek.

“thank you, ryūnosuke.”

“HA, YOU’RE JEALOUS!” ranpo points a rather accusatory finger, reveling in the satisfaction of unraveling the mystery behind your peculiar behavior in recent days.

you struggle to find a response; your eyes narrow under the subdued lighting of the interrogation room where he cornered you. with every blink, the scene in front of you begins to develop: your dear boyfriend casually seated, his arms behind his head, and a triumphant smirk adorned his lips.

he meets your gaze with unmistakable pride.

“you’re delusional,” you scoff, your own arms crossed, and push yourself away to create a bit of distance between you two.

his eyes lock onto yours, a knowing familiarity etched into his dark irises; it was as if he was unraveling your expression layer by layer. you would’ve found it endearing if you weren’t carried from your desk in the midst of typing a report for kunikida out of the blue, just to be questioned like a homicide suspect.

“deflection is a common sign of jealousy~! t’s best to save yourself the time and embarrassment, and admit it: you’re jealous,” he dares say, as if it were a noteworthy detail that merits documentation.

“hmph!”

your eye twitches.

though seemingly at ease, ranpo was shaken. he knew you had a tendency to go silent whenever you were upset with him. he needs to tread carefully, he cannot undergo another hour of the silent treatment — neither can the agency! god forbid you take a break after seeing him get circled by “fans of his work.”

it was maddening to see a man who boasts as the “world’s greatest detective” stay oblivious while women shamelessly throw themselves at him.

the tilt of his head gives him an air of immaturity. “don’t get upset, i was only teasing!”

“…”

these four walls, adorned with its stale furniture and draped in shadows, became a backdrop for the unfolding drama. the only sounds heard were the whines of his chair as he adjusts his position, plus the light rustle of your coat as you shift uncomfortably to refrain making eye contact with him.

leaning forward, he rests his chin on the palm of his hand, arm prop on the table as he sighs rather dramatically. you were persistent, lips sealed tightly, refusing to say a word.

this was his (actual) last resort.

“do you want me to grovel? is that it?” his patience wears thin. “fine.” standing abruptly, you frown, expecting him to leave the room... however, to your shock, he kneels before you.

“huh, ranpo?!” you shriek, “what are you doing?! the floor is dirty! d’you even know when was the last time they cleaned this room? if they even clean it at all!”

he dismisses your concern. “do you forgive me? for being, uh… dense? i didn’t mean it, i swear!” his voice, a playful tune in the otherwise strained moment, holds a sincerity that surprises you.

“fine.” without hesitation, you gave him a firm nod, urging him to stand and to prevent further grime on his slacks.

ranpo wore a dumb grin on his face, stupid-looking yet very charming, effortlessly drawing a smile from you, the tension in your shoulders giving way. “what?”

fingers entwined with yours, he tugs you forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “it’s nothing, you’re cute when you get jealous.”

#beast akutagawa #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #akutagawa x reader #beast ranpo #edogawa ranpo x reader #ranpo x reader #bungo stray dogs beast x reader #bsd beast x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader

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astralnymphh · 1 year ago

Text

saturated sanctity

tonguefucking raw in the barn, away from dina's eyes ౨ৎ

. part two 𝜗𝜚

❛you had cunt on your mind, 'n cum on your breath❜

PREVIOUS CHAPTER . NEXT CHAPTER > .ᐟ ♡. summary; a chore so innocent and prosaic, far from featherbedding and near to plucking grain from your scalp– turns for the worst, or the best? i soundly connote, fornication ventured on two bends of eager knees, drinking you from beneath the hood 𐙚 .ᐟ ♡. cw; depictions of infidelity, homewrecking, semi-risky sex, jealousy, bit angsty, tension, guilt, pining, tears are shed, playing around, lusting, clit stim (r, fingers and oral), fingering (r), pussy eating (r), scant nipple stim (r), ass groping, ass slapping, breast groping, swallowing slick, pussy slapping, steamy make-out buildup, dirty talk, needy ellie, smug ellie as usual, dom!ellie, sub!reader (i swear sub!ellie is coming next chapter) domestic acts, bold text is flashback dialogue, petnames; babe, baby, good girl (lmk if i missed anything) .ᐟ ♡. pairing; farm!ellie x farmhand!reader .ᐟ ♡. a/n; ending feels a little lazy but it is what it is. hey i'll pull through on ss3 that's like the smut crux, if u get my jizzst..

✵ masterlist ✵ series masterlist ✵ got too lazy 2 proofread right away ✵ WC; 9.8k+

VOLUME TWO - The skin that flakes/ Under the hood

𝄞

Indulgences have the gall to peck at you.

Pecky and prickly as the oncoming hens do, handwriting–on–the–wall misgivings that throttle you off a steady minute by minute track. Small nuances under light of sun kept doing so this week, numerous things apropos of bawdy suggestions wisped by that reckless pink snake of hers– always mere footsteps from running into Dina, ‘I think it would be, really, reaaally hot if you didn’t wear your p-panties at the table, tonight..’ always brain–caked in a bit of alcohol, hiccuping. Or, even when a cold cuff cocoons the hind of your upper–thigh, an inch below the crease of your butt and done as she passes like a ghost behind you in the kitchen.

A plum bruise should have formed from how often you flicked that forehead of hers. But no, of course no. The only thing that formed each time was a cocky curl into her lips, corkscrewing those fine hazel freckles connate to a whirlpool in water.

Owing to the fact that she lacked sufficient care from you, has her pouting when you deny her. Denied her of that fiendish wish to lie beside each other– even if it be upon that packed sofa, or– of her vehement dreams, reposing within sniffing distance of an ambery lit fireplace, running her work–worn fingertips along your hill of chest, letting the beat beneath your breast verse in her hands a tale to beckon her own in accordance, toasting aflutter with love. She would push a kind pressure to said breast, emboss prints to squishy skin, mold it to her liking, and smirk when your nipple erects and bends under her hardy palm.

On the other hand, woe of denial, she sought Dina in your figment. When she wasn't courting twisted fingers up your billowing skirt, she instead smelt her heart in twisting her from the inside out, which– even more woefully, gave Dina the impression that Ellie had come crawling back on starved knees. Woe is her, to misreckon and take what she thought was hers to safekeep.

Arteries, wrenched and awreck, you felt a toy in contrast to what really stood. Worry.

Worries are the hens, pecking at you.

Will Dina catch you two here? Over there? This night, or the inbound day? Tines of time aren't obligated to tell, ringing of peril whenever they yen a sign to sow.

Thoughts would only continue to foment come light of day.

A lemony sun has risen beyond the hill laden skyline, plucking rays for your wake. Muted orange tones mingle and caper into flaming reds on the crest of your sealed eyelids, caught just as you bid adieu to your cotton sogged dream. For dreams die, at every crossroad.

“Mhh..” the gentlest brush of breath hinders sun washed quietude split, and a set of toes curving down to a stretch. Achy aches ache, as there’s enough ache to go around for farm hands such as you, ugh right?

Disturbing be the sunlight drawing blinding rays on your bleary pupils, attempting to shade out familiar nooks of your room. Ah, there we go, hues of sable dark in unvisited corners and shyly crowding the light, fluid out of the clear glass pane. As the couch is situated opposite of this blaring window, it greets you quite rudely.

The moment colors begin to mature and petrify within your vision, you're already hiking up a foot and rocking your bottom off the quaint sofa, veering a peek to the indent left. Slept like a log, huh? Feet plant weight on plods carrying you towards the wardrobe, grantingly aside the wide pearl–border window, flitting a forearm up to block incoming light.

A huff bloats your cheeks and pouts ducky lips, then grumbling a burden off your shoulders, “Hhhmmmm..” no truer words were spoken.

You lodge fingers in oaken crevices and pull a sundry of drawers from their frame, rubbing cotton on wool as you dig without aim on what you may don, this or that, with which and what, where and when. Blah, yawn, bored, you avert your gaze on lucent glass and scrutinize a pine bough panorama– only for your eyes to spring and espy a sparkle.

A gleam of skin.

And a tuft of copper.

Ellie.

Her torso fit in a white ribbed tank, soaked in hues of gray at the dip cut collar, and handsomely clung to her perky breasts. An arm raises, a graceful length likeness of a canopy above her head, stretching freckled flesh over toned muscles, the grooves– shadowed in a whisper of brown, highlighted celestially, and exposing a small auburn bush beneath her pit. A seen groan escapes her slit gob, brows hefty– she crumples them dear into her eye sockets, ruching the thin skin. Exertion tapered her body akin to clay, and it was undeniably hot, scrunching her face up like that. Ellie then juts her hips forward and casts her head rearward as she stretches, releasing all tension in a swing of her arms down.

Seems like she's tending to the fore yards.

Dew gleams honey, sweat paints skin, and portrays your girls as a ruddy rose in dashing spring. Ruddy, yeah, that solar ball in the sky sure made her skin popping arid of paleness. Naturally, her freckles betone like pepper, bulging on her red face– which scrunches in her gripe of stress.

Her lips part, mouthing an obvious, ‘Fucking hell.’ and baring teeth after, slightly. Lashes interwoven, her eyes stayed squinted, only to widen and dart when a muffled shout rattles the walls.

Right, fuck, Dina needs me.

Just as the drizzly auburn–head jogs from a peeking view and presumably into the house, you reverse and capsize through stacks of cloth until you land your choice– a sundress. Hey, it's hot today, let your butt breathe for a change. You dangle it by the thin straps prior to pleating up the skirt and slinking it over your crown, yanking every seam in place. Ruffles hit a stonecast above your knee, a sensible length.

But one question stands unturned.

Bra, or no bra?

Hmm.

No bra.

A proper chest of cotton cradles your breasts come rain or shine, not like Dina would mind with brine, nor judge off the heart– just freeing the girls. No biggie. The woven material lollops to a fare–thee–well, cozy on the curve, ribbing as it falls in place. Now, you just need something on your feet. Striding forth, waxing a gale, bare steps soften on each oak board's scant gap, sylvan grain texture grazing your toes. Just a few feet ayond the couch is your shoe cubby, small box frames home to varied work boots and scuffed sneakers, and based on today, you choose boots, clasping the hardy backstays in a pinch. You crouch and gripe at the sore sting your knees gave, manning it through and sliding foot by foot plumb to the squishy sole of your boots, tying up the cordy laces.

Guh, these boots are near rugged.

Ignoring the plain–in–sight fray to your boots’ hemp laces, you grasp and wrench the icy knob ‘round till the door grinds a cry open. Stepping under the arch, you brisk thump by thump and cut where the hallway bends, advancing the dining table.

A dyad of ears harks your growing din of solid steps, calling, “There you are, did'ja sleep like a log?” mellifluous notes of Dina's cadence carries, veering your sight on the kitchen– where she be, perching an oaken honeycomb rack to forearm.

That I did.

“Yuup–” you pirouette, spanning the table's border and hiking that very ridge plane into your butt, sighing, “sun was there to greet me, obnoxiously.” leaning into the table, you grouse lightheardedly.

“Oh shit– sorry ‘bout that, swear I'll put up a–”

“Don't worry, it's the one thing that actually wakes me up these days,” you crack a quip, chuckling with an open mouth.

Dina caters a kind tug on her mauve lips prior to whisking her eyes returned, a glossy honey to be. Syrupy knuckles press and crinkle in the hilt of a honey fork, pruning waxy slices and welling gold bubbles, crafting a drippy stream that canals into a glass bowl. Through laden light it gains a gilded life, casting a tiny star on the moist blob– and there you witness, nectar of the gods.

Capricious minds might have swiped a dollop of that sweet, sweet delicacy by now.

Weighing the silence, you tempt thoughts racing around your skull. What chore am I assigned today? Where is the cacophony of babbles and gurgles that follow Dina like a haunting spirit? Where did Ellie go? Ellie, Ellie, Els.

God did she look breathtaking in that tight–

A rush of thuds divert your curious eyes to the creaking stairs, preluding the swell of said babbles and a husky voice, Ellie's voice.

“Dina?” hailed she, echoing halfway down the steps, “I changed his diaper!”

Dina cocks her head in heed, crowing back, “Okay! Just– give ‘im to her!” tone knocking against the hollowed walls, then, she sheers attention to you, “mind feeding him?”

You hum a keen, “Mhm.” void of second qualms and wait on that certain honey–head to appear, hearing the increments of footsteps draw lower and nearer.

The honeylike cowl, stria of fawn auburn drapes soft strands to laze with a purpose on her neck, fashioning that scruffy mullet eyes prize after. Honeykin defines the head that tags after gray, deadbeat converse hop the last few steps and plant still on the oaken floor. For a honey so sinful sought you, and buys a bite of time, to stare.

Her liven pasture eyes catch on you, just a moment, and skip away, reminded of what she intends, “Uh, here.” her forearms unfurl and slink to you, offering JJ up in thankful arms.

You rub in bare flesh to hers, scooping the gurgly baby in a shyer than thankful human cradle, foreheads feckly bumping into each other as you swap, a ghosting of heads. A whaff of her work–spent scent digs into your brain, and you had to admit, it was a tinge sort of lovely. She had the farmyard tang about her, blessed with sweat, a firming physique, a stare that caught you a corpus melting in her esse.

Fairer than the weeks before her touching of you, the bounty it procured was tame, fair is the present. Fairest days, faring a harvest more splendid than dreams carping yonder ebony skies and heavy heads. An unruffled weightlessness many souls find hopes fed in, you found aplenty of in the waking world. With Ellie, you drank laughs, fiddled about the haystacks, snuck apples in your fist– nicking dewey chunks down her gullet in shared kisses, or let her shamelessly tug some of your ass meat in horny hands. Oh, isn't infidelity just the niftiest drug.

Smitten as a kitten, you are.

Carpe diem.

“You’ sleep well?” asked Els in monotone, pitching a paw up to weave through her jumbled locks, splitting strands.

Heaving a breeze, you sigh, “Decent enough, you?” and counter the question, bobbing your stance on bending knees– pray that baby doesn't scream, as always.

“Like a baby,” she asserts, lush of a brag, dropping her hand and poking at the chubby–cheeked fella, who just got a free mention, “not so much this one, yeahh? Did you scream my ear off all night?” cooing.

“Mhm, heard that.” you add.

“Betcha did.”

“Hmm.”

Her eyes peek up, and goddess, it's that look again. Oh yes, the very gaze spilt upon the oaken table that hale spring day, a twinning star. These eyes, ladies and gentle–non–mens’, fondled a plight of husky play sat on the edge of her mucky mind, and it showed vividly in those flourishing pupils that thin her pine–lined eyes. Tilted smirk dotting dimples in her big appley cheeks, cuspid teeth goring a dint in chapped lips crying with dire need of moisture. Sexy– minus the lips maybe.

She knows what effect that look has.

What exactly sits vanward of that hormone tipsy mind, is an excerpt best served in the formula of two tongues tied– for even Ellie herself may strive to compose hunger incarnate at this fledgling hour of daybreak. And yet she cannot. The mere thought of your pussy clots her brain cells. So, how do we fix that?

Play pretend!

“Hey babe,” that auburnette already had her head whipped south towards Dina before you could flit a blink, feet sparking her a brisk carry yon the shabby oak floor. Creak, creak, clonk, foot by foot she departs a sliver of bitterness in your chest.

A demure bitter, a sense you can simply shake off. For now.

“There you are..” spoken so softly from Dina, who still had a rack of flaxen honeycomb in her hold, slanting to an angle, “what took ya so long?” voice curling.

“Wasn't that long,” she emphasized her vowels, “m'here now..”

“Good..”

She was far from there.

“Mhh,” hummed Ellie, pressing her lips into a thin stroke, puckering about to intone a curly, “ohhh, honey– can I have a lick?”

“Mh–mm, that's for the apples.”

“Aww.”

A meshing of lovers. Real love, virgin love, dying love, feigned love, it all wreathes together on the outside– for the sake of earthly vein, tender were those emotions long ago. Hasty do the doves encircle a budding entanglement, and bells chime where dust remains uncollected on wanton hearts. Uncanny, do the crows crawl in their grandeur of an affection died– sprawling sooty wings through tough gravel and mushy mud, rendering them unable to fly again. Unearth that shit, and you're seated for a whole fuckfest, indeed.

So consume what you see with a grain of shit–face nothingness.

Ellie slinks a glide upon Dina, pushing her harsher on the counter's nook and slumping arms to swaddle her torso. She cradled her in the natural bow of her body, projection of her bony hips plated dual plumb dimples in her ass, grinding with a purpose. Denim chafes on denim, bringing a light noise of fabricy licks. The cottony hem of her soiled tank begins to bunch with each rolled hump, proving the friction to be– lustful. Her hands wander her body, not yours, pausing and choking the fat plush of her thighs, losing sunny–ruddy pigment to wanting pressure, then releases, and traces back up.

Pupils of yours aimed so pinpoint on each sweep of her hand, yet, you bore an idle set of gestures. Cupping a waxy rubber bottle in your grasp, brimmed with milk opaque of lily–white and feinting a crisp chill to your fingertips, you park the nozzle to the baby's lips. Giving a squeeze with care, you feed him– idly, idly turned from the scene afore, except for your eyes.

Strain sets a pull on them as you stare.

A bitsy wince of, “Ellie..” dries moistness on her lips, shuddering to an ajar gasp.

“Mhm, like that?” husked with a bass that ripples, so, so deep in her diaphragm, you swore it nearly rattled your ears from where you poise.

A gasp died into, “We can't–”

“But we can..” a frugal answer, meant for one pair of ears only. Only, what a joke. An ill timed joke on Dina.

Had it truly been for one person only, Ellie would not be striking risk right in the butt. Nifty as she is, juggling those risks aimlessly, she stares at you. The crown of her head ruffles up messily on her scruff as it pivots, flushed nose pointed to you, pale lids of supple creases kin to a beach cove as they open, batting reeds of chestnut everlasting. They flap, waiting for you, in the delay of that week–past chance snuffed.

Intimidating, austere demeanor flowering in those buttony pupils– and she eyefucks you with them, even tugging a wink your way. A fucking wink. Her ploy of fondling Dina, so obscenely, clearly dirty, read in gold typeface as ‘Wish this was you.’ loud and proud. Much more so when her digits curl and dig dents in her waist, and her teeth carve marks as she bites her coral lip down, showing you.

She's showing you how she wants to play with you.

Being an unwelcome voyeur, you felt the tail–tug to glance away. And in that fleeting veer, a loud smack resounded and left you surprised on the tips of your boots.

“Uh!” a yelp ejects air from its jailed position in Dina's gullet, forwarding her body with a jounce.

A foul, “Hehe–” trebles a giggle from Ellie, shit–eating grin withal, “so sensitive.. again?” her hand rubbing circles to where she struck ass.

Fuck.

Fuck, because she has uttered those exact words to you before, wetly on the shell of your ear, yesterday. At dead noon eve, stark flat on your bedroom door, a makeout you'd rather not divulge. Though, did Dina hear that thumping racket?

You feel a throb, a throb that drops. It beats from your maddened heart to your aching hole, literally. A web of hot arousal dribbles over the ribbing of your walls, leaking into a sticky splotch on the plateau of your panties. Fern eyes of something unholier–than–the–moan–of–a–devil felt denser working than self–pleasure, it tickled just right.

But it doesn't belong to you, so don't pluck that apple. Ignore that tickle.

“Okay, baby–” Dina gruffs and shoots her shoulders up, nudging Els’ clingy head off, “seriously, I got shit to do.”

“Hmm, suit yourself.” Ellie gave up and wacked her hands up in defense, feigning offense.

You slither that milk–glossy tap gently from purling lips, cooing, “There you go.” as you set the bottle down with a placid thud, spurring a lone finger up to bat slowly upon the baby's nubby nose, how maternalistic of you.

A gait of striking steps softly approaches you. With your head huddled and stance shielded the opposing direction of the two, you couldn't see who that person was. Although, you deemed it safe to assume it may be Ellie, coming to poke at you again.

“Hey, could you help Ellie sweep the barn?” a honeyed voice entrances your focus instead, Dina, of course, “sheep dragged in a whole buncha’ shit, shouldn't take long though.” she notes, casually.

A long droning intervenes “Uhhh, I never volunteered to–”

“You did when you chose to live on this farm with me,” her voice strains, flowing into a breezy chuckle whilst gesturing for you to hand her JJ, “Right, babe?”

“Pshh–”

Bearing aloft, you slink that baby's bum right into her curviform arms, feeling the cottony onesie drag on your forearm as his weight lifts off, bending at the knees scantily.

“Fiiine, I'll muck the– smelly sheep shit for ya’,” her voice bores deeper in exaggeration, becoming a blurry blob moving behind Dina's poise as she slinks forth, “gunna’ need a mask, I think.” and quips, wrapping her lithe arms to a cinch on her waist.

Dina grunts, butting her arms loose before it gets tighter and coasting a few feet yonder, “Barn, please.” reiterated she, flatly.

Tapered as her jaw is, she clenches it further, taking that blow of a refusal to her touch peevingly, teeth to a grind. Jeez, she's quite handsy today.

“Hmmph,” a grunt deadlocks at the fore of her compressed lips, rolling at the neck and cocking aside a signal for you–”c'mon.” she mumbled, clicking her waggish tongue.”

A scoff jumps from you, “M'not a horse.” you squint and trot your feet along, heavy timber steps pittering towards the ajar backdoor, dash of light spilling through.

“What? Didn't say you were.” she headstarts and jerks the door chasmally open, banging against the oaken trim.

“Door!” shouted Dina, now muffled as you enter beneath true light of day.

“Sorry!”

You wince both muck–free feet into a macula of moist earth, feeling your weight sink and squeeze a taint of muddy blob as you hoick off and traipse forth. A kittenly, “I think the only horse here is you– smelling of sheep shit,” comeback lightens the air, giggling, “Peee–yuuu, somebody get me a mask.” and shooing an invisible stench from your nostrils.

“Puuh–lease, as if you don't smell like a hot pile of garbage after your chores,” thrummed out of her gob easily, just so she could smooth in, “Emphasis on the hot.”

“God, you amuse me.” you shake your head low and smile, bloating the inwards of your cheeks ‘till they hugged your nose, two blooming mushrooms.

Her body spirals in a swing of her leg, now walking completely backwards, “Wasn't trying to amuse, m'being serious. U're hot.” she brownnosed, even giving you the fucking eye–up–and–down.

This baser, coy weirdo. Can't go nary a breath without summoning a smile unto you.

Your wandering eyes travel up a stream of fading cumulus clouds, sheer stranding like a veil pierced with astral rays– and you mull mind over answers across those clouds, for how could you reply, origin of wit?

Then, so cross the dumbest, possibly weakest retort, transferring from sky–gaze to mouth.

“Andddddd u're not.” you skip ahead of her with a feign of sass, causing her to whip back around.

“Not what you said last night.”

Okay that's true, but..

You egg her on, splayed palm melding to cold, rusted iron grip of a shovel, “I said a great many things, remind me?” as you tease.

“Gladly.” a hotness more snug than the sun cupped your wrist, pricking your grasp open free of the shovel–hilt and spinning you like a ballerina– knocking shin to shin so you plaster flat on the splintered wood door of that barn. Els hovered close, horridly close, breath fervent to your mid–face, “where should I start, babe?”

You freeze, blizzard of a kindled burn, a smolder trenching roots through your reddening cheeks. That throb, returns. You just couldn't gauge which throbbed more severely– the banging of a mad heart, resounding echoed thwacks against caved ribs, or the chokehold of your beaded clit, squeezing up into your cunt and getting you to chafe moist arousal from your labia, wringing webs across your entrance.

No, not again, not here.

“You should start..” a gulp burdens the words back in your gut, re–rounding with a deflect, “by mucking the stable.” silkenly fallen to a wholly nether topic.

Dumbfounded was the look to darken her visage, bristly brows dropping like sawed trees and cleft of her lips bowing to a frown, unamused, “Seriously?”

“Mhm!” you swerve the shovel handle at her unprovoked, letting her catch it prior to crouching under her barred arms and strolling off towards the sheep stall.

And like a dog, she tailgates hot on your hind. Bark bark bark, yapping ditto to one too, “Why do I gotta shovel shit n’ not you? –Huh?” yet in the most unserious, sportive tone, ever. Dorky smirk lingering in her words, pounding a laser through the thickset back of your skull.

Man, if Ellie was a dog– she'd be a damn Siberian husky. Pining for unending attention and peskily playful, too playful, even.

Each crunch of hay behind you, every little sigh she put forth in bone–dry air, the sum of her laughy scoffs that no way in a verdant pasture heaven wouldn't be expelled without a toothsome smirk. She was the blight of you, your anathema, pockmarking inside your brain imagery of how she looked when you averted your gaze, meanwhile she beheld the rear of your head, cocksure of her annoyance. Oh, and goddess how it never falters to soar her heart high of a heavenly altitude, skirmishing every cloud with her melodious drum of life when even simply laying scrutiny to the hair awry with mess, shrouding your nape in the natural fall of it, bouncing on each step. A love of life that you could give.

That is all her mind bends to, pestering you, so help her goddess, she will enact anything, to make this abominable sin a grounded relationship.

Look upon me, won't you?

You tuck a finger around the tiny hook lock, opening the large sheep stall, “Because–” you pause, cutting past the rails and drawing an arm over to grasp a rickety rake, elevating it over the half–wall, “someone's gotta uncover the shit first.”

Her knee pooches out mildly as she recasts her weight on a wall, twiddling her thumb over every scuffed mark of the shovel, examining its ridges beneath her print. Yet, her eyes stayed absorbed in you, taking the waft of every leg stride, arching of your spine as you stoop down, extension of your hands grasping the rake's shaft– stabbing the crooked tines into a labyrinth of heaping hay, the screaming of metal scraping on concrete, causing her ears to tremble and tighten, alongside a squint. The noise muffles, then awakens as she relaxes her facial muscles, slacking her jaw to speak, “Y'really good at that, y'know..” mumbled, even.

“Mmht–” you smack your tongue moist, dithering your head in puzzled wags, “–I am literally just raking the ground,” humbled you, thinking of her dumbly so, “weirdo.”

“Pshh, yeah, but I bet you'll have this whole stall swept in like a minute tops.” she claims through a fried rasp, vailing her pale lids low as she stares– stares of yearn.

Further squashed upon hilarity, you whack a tuft of hay clean through air, then stake the rake upright to a wooden beam and lean, staring back rich with spite, “And I bet an hour for you, what– just standing there?”

“I don't see any shit yet, m'waitin’ on youu..” her vowel drawls long, smug–fuck expression curling those rosy lips.

“Oh really?” your thumb unlocks from the lot of your clutching digits, breaching the rake with a springy sound as it bludgeons against the oaken column. Ranging your foot forward, you brace the skimp distance from you to her, planting softened steps.

Maraschino cherry of her chubbed cheeks, a puckish smirk reads more and more intently as you approach. Each thwack of sole leather to hardy ground is a pump of excitement for her– reckoning your current passage as a rite of igniting something. Sway of your hips, stopping of your tracks in front of her, she wonders– or hopes, of what you'll do next.

You gave that freckled face a prompt pore–over, recognizing that flare of her brows jerking up slightly when you park optics onto her slit–open ones, inhaling, “Then let me do it.” and splaying your palm up to the ceiling, expecting the shovel plumb in–hand, easily.

“Hmm, nah.”

You furrow a lone brow, “Why not?”

“Cuz’ I got it.” spoken cockily, lips flubbed out and head swung like a whip, winding the crescent strands of burnished hair out of her eyesight.

So cavalier.

If Dina were here, the place’d be fuckin’ primely polished. Be for real.

“Sure,” you blunt your accent, nigh on sarcasm, “what's gotten into you?” pleating your fist to a ball, you slot it between the warm pocket of breast to bicep, crossing your arms.

You.

You– are what's gotten into her. Two horny adults unchaperoned, in the convenience of privacy, sub rosa, a smidgeon apart, lusting with their parts of lechery, staring down at sorely empty hands that could be full of each other's flesh, it doesn't fare well. Emptiness, a sphere of it, sleeping in palms where it is an unwelcome voyeur– snoring, vibrating. Dormant touch never falls short of pulsation, like a magnet, it reaches for her.

Stroking the shovel rod as she does, with those knobby fingers of hers, twining the length, was patently suggestive. Soft rings resonate with each tug of her clewed hand, rubbing up and down, slow and thorough, what the fuck.

And worst–best of all? Eyes. Her sooty, pebble blown pupils thinning the evergreen in her eyes, pierced yours. Forbidding ones.

God, wary of reality or not– admit this, it was definitely hot. Hot, how her ashen lids embrace the snow and veins, a human cadre of gossamery skin. Hot, because they read debaucherous– and could carbonize a bible to cinders with a single glance, sacrilege to poetry, ergo; ‘Fuck me’ eyes. And lastly, hot, as they sat a throne upon a wicked smile, exposing her front teeth lightly, spit line attached top to bottom. In short, breathing you in, made her high off lust.

Asudden, the bow indenting her mouth is backwashed in a swallow, and her eyes disappear beyond the hood of her brow bone, captivating her soul upon a sigh. A sigh she breaks contact for, a sigh she must take, in lieu of composure– when all she perceived of you was a temptation.

A bastion of forced air swells up her cheeks, lukewarm on the gums, pouty of the lips, “Fffffffuck–” mouthed she full of that exhale, shaking her head to a low duck.

“Fuuck, what?” a mimic of her quiet curse befell your lips, curving tone and brow in confusion.

That's when her head perked, an inch, a slanted inch, bedeviled eyes divided by the drop of a short russet strand, mouth pursing to vowel out, “You.” hoarsely.

“Like ‘Fuck you bitch’ or in a ‘I'm gonna fuck you’ typa’ way?” you undulate your head cartoonishly, heightening the emphasis of both those options, cause both appeared likely.

Fluff of her brows crooking weirdly, she gawks with an inlay of temptations, bought, “That is the dumbest fuckin��–” she chuckles dryly, nose facing heavenward as she spins the shovel, going clockwise ‘round you, “–question, I've ever heard.”

Step by step, on beat, you slowly spun with her encirclement, noticing now that you're inclined to back up into the wall as she kitty–corners you, idle mitt pressing finger wads to textured wood, laying spread.The scratch of it smooches your shoulder blades as you smush plane on the wall, calves ghosting wales of wood coarse enough to leave blushy marks, and yet you rely on it to camouflage from her intimidating gaze.

A heartbeat hastens, brimming your throat with a blockage capable of consuming the words before ears could, tethering a timid gasp out instead.

Ellie rasped deep, “Cat got your tongue, hmm? Don't back down ‘n me now..” the heat of her face hovers close, cocking her head laterally to fit perfectly in your headspace, air blown from every syllable fanning your sutured mouth.

The weight her stare threw upon you was, probing, and direful. Every attempted scape–glance was a gut instinct, a reflex when shagged to a set of human bars. Flesh of bone, bone in flesh, arm to arm, what a bloody mess.

You curl your shoulders inwards, pressing folded elbows skin–tight to your ribs, “Dumbest question?” a gulp cuts the sentence, “you didn't even answer.”

“Want me to?”

“Yeah,” in defense, you tested her, “I do.”

“Ohhaha– okay..” Els’ cadence rose to amused laughter, shifting on her feet slightly, “We can fuck.” but she spoke it like you requested of it, although, did you?

Fuck.

A bulbous mass pushed your legs clean apart, trampiling the dress to a tight pull around your thighs. Confounded, you drop sights, sinking your chin in towards your neck and realizing– it was her knee.

Rough denim rustles clemently, a whisper of two fabrics meeting, between your quads. A friction so faint, so hush, begins to purr more acutely when a– ahh, pressure. A carnal pressure is given, given with urge, urging on your barely confined clit.

It stings as she drives her knee in, getting you to clench your insides, to seize up.

A juxtaposition doomed to interblend skin.

You impel up on the wall, heel sloping to rest on the flat trim. It smashed your pussy lips, causing a chafe, ramming fabric inside the rim of your hole, a velvety draw of sleek depressing on the cotton tongue of your panties makes it stay there. Thereupon, her groin grinds a roll, nudging your pussy on top of her knee.

“Remember this, babe?” Ellie gives thrall to the dense steel in her vocals, ticking her head aside more to pass that breath firmly on your ear, “–‘member how good my knee felt? Mhm? ‘So fuckin’ good’, you said?”

A diabolical coo, she's trying to get under your skin figuratively– and literally further.

But it surfaced that memory like a buoy, erecting ayond the navy sea line with its eye–catching signal. In you, it materializes. Last night, came a blanket of umbra, yawning its penumbra in the horizon. Witching hour, obscene–eyed, gloaming your senses and eating away at deceit. Deceived? Yeah, that's how you felt, daylight by day bright, a misinterpreter.

All throughout the day, she would ghost right past you en route to Dina, much like earlier– and love up on her. Spread her taint of arousal between you, her, and you, then her again. Leading on last night, where she stowed her knee, just like now, affirming how mortally she may succumb to madness without your vulnerable phasing unto her, except, in a casual way, short of poetry. On top of that continuous grind she gave on your groin, she marked you with a claim so bold,

So freakish, so outré.

Dirty with her perverted thoughts.

You remember it, hard.

‘You love me just as much as your pussy does, face it.’

Hence, her knee felt as fucking liberating as it did that stone stark night. Your clit throbs with an ache, coiling your womb in moreish begs, more, moree.. please more.

“I remember.” uttered softly, throat shutting on the words as you choke up in sensation.

A cordial chuckle blows summery hot on your ear, “Hehe, good,” and is soaked deeper in with a puckered kiss, popping quietly, “Good girl.”

That made you shiver, in a growing delight. A heat seeping between your folds, has you bearing down on her knee, slopping that raw precum all over the ruined seams of your underwear. In bodily reaction, your cunt shriveled in on itself, squelching a drop on barely–there textile– glossing a wet patch on the knoll of her knee.

Ellie espied that moistness saturating through her jeans and spreading warm on flesh when it seeps, slinking her leg a wimp inch out to gauge the spot, a fucking masterpiece, smack dab on her knee, “Fuck,” she spews, pinning teeth to lip, “for me?” she questions, even with an obvious ass answer staring her in the eyes.

Forget Dina, this felt right– too right.

“For you.”

Her teeth bare vast in a smirk, doubling up her cheeks, “God, I love you.” because finally, fucking finally, she will have her cake and eat it too.

But first, eat the space before you.

And so she does, tucking the wad of her nose squashed in the crevice of your nostril and cheek, brushing of her mildly cracked lips greet yours to part, a balmy ask of entrance. Wagging against, the skin barely hugs with cushy compress, then she nips your bottom lip and wedges her own between, indulging the bump of your cupid's bow to cradle a whisker inside her suckled hold– her humid realm of fog. Buds connected, she felt like butter searing, softness melting, disintegration inside your clasp of a satiny hole, and she was pungent of farmland, muck sweat, everything you could have prest for. Ellie pushes passion in the form of little spit bubbles down your throat– ingesting your voice, your taste, your brain, essence in whole. Taking each other in your own two gullets, bolts of song, and long gaping moans– and even longer pants of make–out exhaustion.

“Mhhh,” she shoves another groan to rattle your teeth, hopping over cloud nine with each moan you reciprocated– like music in a fairytale, a ballad, or of a siren song, splendidly spellbinding, yes? “–fhhck yeshh–” She hums, forwarding a buck of her knee fiendishly.

You yelped, and she liked that, an impish grizzle pushing past the swollen smile and drags saliva across yours.

But.

Those hands once empty, cannot lie powerless to being so. Hers, fly from the wall behind your head and trace down your biceps, buckling unfurled over the bulge of your loose breasts and cup them tender, giving a squeeze that dimples flesh above the neckline of your dress. Not a complaint rose from you, you liked it, yearned hard of it– loved it.

She could tell by the mere movement of your back, arching into her grasp, getting her fingers to squish them even flatter, laughing the kiss to a pause, “Look at you–” she hinds back to look at you, taking your eager rush to follow her lips into regard, “fucking cutie.”

“Don't call me cutie.” you astern.

“Why noott–”

“No.”

A grin enlightens her anyways, “Got it,” and slides her lip back between yours, suckling the plump of your upper, “Mhmm..” hummed so gravelly, so good on your ears, yummy.

This girl will be the first suspect of your murder. Murder of love.. in spring.

Adjourning the freshly–sown kiss with a sloppy smack, you interrupt, “Y'know–” mhhp, a quick peck, “–think I love you too.”

“Think?” she knits her brows together dumb on your featherly melded foreheads, squishing the grooves that form in–between, “could already tell from last night,” her rasp makes it sound of a patent fact, chuckling like an asshole when you whine amid her tease, “hmm–hm, sorry babe.”

“God, you're such a dick,” you bind your head lower and ghost your barren lips over her chin, smiling amongst your dim shadow.

Index and thumb of her hand thaw ripely of your chin, exerting under the bone and beckoning you up with a kind pull, “Would a dick do this–” she twines you to the left, “Mmph,” pasting a kiss beneath one eye, “or this,” twines you to the right, pasting another peck, “or even this?” and lastly, twines you faceward.

Patent of her pattern, you expect a delicate pair of those blood swell, pouty lips to spare something planets away from porny lust– a promise, that none of this was bad. However, hopes are dashed like a racehorse when your chin rears free and a blur of her auburn head plunges out of sight, and under the hood.

“Els’, where are you–”

Oh.

A gale of air spills up the gap of your thighs, sought upon by the whipping of your sundress’ hem up crinkled in her dual grasps, pushed against your hip bones. Knees grind in shallow dust, planting just next to your parked feet with a soft rub between the four, the perfect position, an orgasmic view. Ellie lets a gasp free upon eyeing the fat blotch soaked thoroughly to a glisten, fabric eased in your labia, showing her the shape of it. God, ‘think she saw you clench just now.

She balls the fabric to one hand, dropping her other and husking dry, “There she is– fuck, missed me?” a waggy finger rises to your clit, toying it in meager flicks– almost as to pet it.

A wince cries from you, “Ahh–” and you perk on your toes, inching away from her fingertip now padded in your sodden arousal.

Yet that fucking finger follows, pressing a hiemal print to flatten your bloated clit, clothed labia hugging the willowy knuckle. Cocky chuckle– likeness of her unabashed assholery and spilt through grit teeth, she muses in your clamping pussy lips, “Hehe, yeah? Need my fuckin’ fingers, huh?” and those damned coos, that tender tune, gosh– you can't get enough of it.

But you've had your fill of plaguing rumination.

Dina's away, nay a breath of her lingers here, not a peep of her can disrupt you, disrupt what you feel– how Els’ makes you feel. It's not wrong, if you're not the one suggesting it. It's not immoral, if it was never held in the hands of your intention. It's not your fault, if you let it transpire. Nothing to rue, not your sin, not your wrongdoing.

So you pluck the apple.

An ease of your quads down pricks your clit with the poke of her finger, cushing the delicate flesh, “Mhm– yes, yess.” whined you, nigh on breathless.

“That's right,” thick is her voice– like a coddling of wood thicket, pushing past the devout lips that embed themselves in the chub pliancy of your belly, lain of a smooch to your womb, a quiet one, “thaat's fuckin’ right.” and jerking your clit measured with tease, idly rubbing.

The gentle marrow of that contact with your belly and your clit, sent you aquiver. Your abdomen, shaking lightly against her mouth with a breath in, lading your stomach with a rise, high–strung by that simple kiss. Too sweet, you thought, sweetly toxified of honey, unorthodox to how hoggish she usually strikes as– you expected her usual playfulness.

Softness can be addictive, and her version of soft, definitely was.

“Soo fuckin’ good t'me..” her lips detach only to press back in, multiple times, same exact spot. She wouldn't dare budge, not when it was deemed her duty to kiss you there by some unknown force, or her own accord. Ellie whispers, lugging those honey–drug lips over the pouch of your belly, “need that good fucking pussy n’ my mouth.”

A tilt, a modest slant of your hips projecting your crotch against her collarbone was your ask of entrance, and she gave her answer so fast.

“Hold this,” she cranes the clump of skirt to one of your paws, letting go when you meet fingers over fingers with her and hold your skirt to your ribs. She stops playing with your clit completely, tracing said finger up your groin and under your pantyline, pleating the band in on itself as she journeys it to your knees– letting it freefall from there.

Despite the milk–warm weather lambent to your forehead when settled under the sun, meant zilch to the cooler world inside the barn. Not wintry, but a tangible change sensed in your bare pussy. That's why you fastened your quads to a clench, nearly sucking in your cunt– oh, and the fact that two olive fern eyes are bluntly viewing it. Stage fright, much?

A fried gasp of, “Ohh, shit–” chills it further with exhalation upon discovering the raw truth to your aroused pussy, engorged in size and pinkish in sex irritation. Ellie was drunken in that eyeshot of serumy precum wetting a film between your slit, drawing gluey webs over your hole, barely open for full study. She needs you open, she longs to see, gulping a horny thought audibly before speaking, “spread them pretty legs for me, hmm? C'mon, it's just me–” she assures, donning that calming placidity whilst palming the round of your knees apart to guide you, “–there we go, uh'huh, fuck..” departed of her voice, husky as she studied the open spread of your filthy hole, dripping for her like it fucking knew she was looking at it.

All you could engage was a tunneled stare down of your protruding crotch and her reddish–brown dusted crown, the slump your knees took clung on the flank of her biceps– plowing with an indent in her bare sun–baked skin. Els’ face so sanguine compared to the paler pigment of her fingers, which now push your thighs uncomfortably agape to the extent of bulging fat between her knuckles. Eyes bark, luring under lids so heavy and lashes like a vignette– they bark and say, ‘Keep your fucking legs open.’

Say no less.

Taken in awe, “She's so fucking pretty–” she curses with meaning, a means to make it known, licking up a river between your folds upon seeing that exhilarating view, cupping a glob of slick in her pink muscle.

“Shit..”

Withdrawing her tongue, she swallows the creamy delight, “Prettiest pussy ever, ‘uh'huh, that's right.” Ellie being Ellie, she slaps it, eyeballing the spongy skin recoiling.

“Ah!”

“Yeah..”

Your nude cunt was honeydew heaven in her eyes, gleaming wet like grapefruit, that's why her tongue was already slipping out on open air. Head inching to intimacy, the button of her nose dovetails seamlessly between the tippity top of your folds, and your clit, kissed with a hot spell. That bud, it fit perfectly in the wrapping of her lips, straightaway suctioned further into the gummy pucker of her mouth.

An ache zaps that little bouquet of nerves and coerces you to nearly swoon over it, yelp hitching, “Ha– aah,” and shudder teething, “Ellie..” with a hump of your glutes butting her head back, only stirring that hungry mouth of hers to pop off and swaddle it back in, tongue flicking.

Her nostrils sunk deeper in, airflow turning muffled in your crotch– yet her moans remained, abounding, vibrating on your sensitive pearl, “Mhhhh, mhmm.” rumbling deep under the soft squelching her moving jaw brought to fruition.

Ellie, you fucking god, giving those plumate licks that are barely there, but scarily paired with deftness, getting you to squirm and squeal, “Yess– baby, yess..” That pink muscle snagging under the hood sometimes, smacking that pretty tiny clit of yours around with foams of flavor whisking onto her taste buds, humming in the notes of sex.

“Mhhh, fhhck.” her lips sever an inch, mumbling into your clit, “fuck you and your pretty little hole, god, fuck you.” she curses, cause how dare you let her impulses conquer, returning a trio of digits along your legs and swiftly finding your pussyhole, dilating the lips apart and shoving all three inside. How dare you, engross her ears in your moans echoing akin of a cathedral in her skull, ushering her to fuck you unholy.

“Ellie!” you wail, hoisting on your toes a second and clutching her in those slobbering walls– which only gushed a leak of arousal on her digits, and blocked her from further thrusting slightly, taken aback by the sudden stretch.

Her lips pop off again, slurping up the wet laces strung to her pout from your fattened labia, “Schlp– jesus, you are fucking tight,” the deepness rippled in her voice, groggy from the moist caking her gob, “let me in, don't push me out.. c'mon..” she coos gently, eyeballing the swallow her fingers took past your soaked lips, knuckles disappearing.

“O–ohh,” you tried to mouth ‘okay’, but the word just didn't fit the part.

“Just like that..” Ellie cools a fresh sigh, praising with a proud curl on her face, “Good fuckin’ pussy..”

Letting go, your gut loosens and heightens the sensation of her skinny fingers bottoming soundly inside your vagina, feeling the callouses rub as they curl and tickle your angelsent spot, airing lips find purchase behind her fingers– and a pointy nose bumps your clit pervaded with purpose.

Spry is the moan, moaning over ‘spilled milk’, “Oh my g– uhnn..” woe is you, clawing phantomly at the spring that coils inside your womb, unknowingly providing Ellie's eager mouth with your precum.

The physical reality around you, suddenly only consisted of you, her, the barrier that stills your back, and a void inside you– being filled.

Literally.

And figuratively? Cause jeez, you must give sanctuary to a sin–eating, fleshoid beast inside your bone prison of a body, coming back here for seconds like that.

Might you be the dirty.. dirty dog instead?

Rivers of filth, she pumps those glossy droplets out of you, leathery scars caressing your ribbed canal with each pleasuring undo of your senses, she steals them like they are impartial to your bliss– bliss is all she needed you to feel for her. Fuck the worry, trash the heartache, yank the anxiety out, and soften into a pretty blob atop her fingers.

Her sultry blessing sitting upon those fingers, that's how she deems you– you do well to remember that. Her, willing frame of hips thrusting back down on the friction she gives, burrowing her nose a scent so naturally seducing, a pheromone, fucking elates her own throbbing pussy. Nothing sugary, nothing stomach–churning, just the taint of you. The threading of her jean's crotch was enough of a brute, bullying her egged clit by driving a split in it, flattening the fleshy hood everytime she shifted weight from knee to abdomen, poor her.

“Huhnn– shit,” heaved grizzlier in her carp of stimulation decay, lack thereof rubbing one out herself and watching your delicate skin expand and crease. How could you blame her– her hand looked so right plugging your hole.

You suck your belly in, drawing tense on that thickset motion playing with your g–spot, whimpering, “Els’, please.. I can't..” a well floods in your waterline, searing with tears of crystalline iodine.

You really can't.

That scruffy mullet hides most of her big cranium, but, it was so fucking hot seeing the nominal stroke of her face, blushing strawberries betwixt your butter–spread legs. Her nose bobs north and south, dragging the bulb of cartilage over that nippy rosebud she happily exhales onto, pushing you over the earthly edge born of paltry touching. Ellie cognizes the slick–clear gospel that you were pending climax, manifesting as your needy bear downs into her slopping mouth practically lactating your pussy juices deep in the pit of her stomach, and the swelling of your wooed clit led on by her tongue, growing big and reddish on her nose to where it clasps the tip in a pillowy fashion, dabbing a glob of creamy sap.

A mouthquake splutters wetness mixed with her spit across your inner–thighs abd vibrates your folds, betrothal of her voice waking back up, sourly muted, “She's– suh good.. mhphh– to me..”

“Ellie..” you falter on breath, leavening in pitch.

“Phh–” a frothy sound garbled in your pussy lips, pushing her spit bubbles inside your gaping hole and traveling deeper with her fingering you, “makin’ this pushhy’ mine..” flubbed she, lapping up her cupid's bow of smeared sleek.

Your hole clamps her in as the pang begins to tick its patchy count of time, wearing the glass knot of your womb to a cracking, and troubling the base of her digits.

“Fuck, you wanna’ make this harder?” she sterned to the velvety rim of you locking on her triple shafts, porking webs of your pre–finish to teardrop down your walls as her palm splashes against your loch–sodden slit and mashes your g–spot repeatedly, plush of your labia bouncing in ripples. The noises were abundant, and pornographic, mushy as she fixes so much of your arousal on the pads of her fingers, hormones spiking at the lewd noises, “you hear that baby, ooh, fuck.” foxily ‘ooed’ that foxy–maned girl, beguiled in how your pussy spurts for her.

It wept in slaps, eliciting a palping squelch to bang, bang– bang– pound, brandishing a chilly tempest through and through your bloating labia, quivering as it readies to release. The stuffing was intimate– like a punch inside your spirit, coaxing the fragile glass to a rend, ergo, pushing out every lash of pure lucid squirt.

On the beat of your hole gushing, yelps batting you shut in the plain intensity such an orgasm brought forth, tore Ellie from simply just watching– to drinking every drop. Her voice, dusky in the backdrop of your wails sounded, “Yes– yess, babe fuckk that's it.. mhm, all over my fuckin–” her words wane as her lips clock in, a sudden rush of void fleets with her fingers sheathing out, drawing a long lubricous bunch of webbing only to be nourished in the warmth of her mouth– pursing into your labia and shaking about as you squirt.

Ellie has no shame in getting soiled of you, even the devil himself blushed at the linkness of her mid–face pancaking your lissom skin apart, spewing you wide.

“Ah! Nuh– nonono, t'much, too– uhhnn..” your throat fails you, clumping wads of words that wanted to breach, but her mouth was too good, and it's fucking obvious that she wouldn't stop, not when she can have you like this, bucking onto her flat tongue. Sinfully good, disgusting in the rawest fashion, making your crotch burn with ecstasy more than it already did.

Water upon the push of her mouth, blowing in and slopping noisily at the meat of your pussy lost it's carry to your ears. A biome of shadow, veils your vision and a pressure rains less than tender between your eyes, blurring everything before you, ebbing the grasp of your skirt to an impossible job, hands ashake. All you could gauge above the hood was fiery sweat, hot, steaming– taunting sweat, licking at your forehead.

Her nose headbutts into your vagina, slinking languidly as her head finally smacks off your numb folds, laughing, “Holy fuck– y'taste so good,” the air windy to your soaked entrance, convulsing in front of her barren eye, “shoulda’ let me lick you sooner.”

Huff, and puff, until the binds of your chest blow down, sprouting with an entire current of air, panting more than dramatic as you dwindle down like a bird's plume, “Too.. huh– haah, bad.”

A new kiss is savored to your clit, absorbing the snift her snort gave, “Haha– yeah yeah, n'you liked it, don't lie.”

No lie was home to call. You’ve a truthful virtuality.

You truly did like it, love it, cave obsession over that moment– for now it passes, and not a peck of guilt ran prickly on your arm hairs, saving your gullet free of a stony gulp. No crows died in the revelation of your scandal, only doves, encirclement in a trance chirping nuptials to be had.

I really do love you, Ellie.

Is that so bad?

“I can’t catch my– oof,” you grab sudden air with your fructifying lungs, “–can’t catch my fuckin’ breath.” and the struggle was visible, muscles like puppet strings to your fingers losing proper grasp and billowing the skirt plop on her head.

The rotund shape of it wiggles from the draping hem, continuing to laugh when her wet–handed fingertips poked thin on your ankle, bulging on both sides as she drew your panties back up all the way, slithering under your skirt’s canopy and stretching the band to a snap on your hips, skin tiding, jerking you off warning, which for sure winded the breath back in ya.

“Sheesh, no care for my panties at all?” remarked you of fun wit, gliding your thumb apart to rub the bend of your hip crest.

“You literally ruined them before–”

“And whose fault is that?” you winched from the barn wall and met pupil–to–pupil with her rising figure, revealing how slick–fucked her face really is, glossing with evidence of your cunt.

“Mine..” proudly, guilt was basal to her tone, nonexistent, inching closer to you with a slight wobble swaying on her heels.

You hark the crunch of gravel below, but keep your gaze airborne, Ellie–borne, “Exactly.”

“Cause m'hot?”

“No,” you rock your head, evil smirk deepening the corners of your lips to your gums, “that's a dumb question.”

Her arms begin to slink at fore, elbows chafing her flank, “Wow, stole my line.”

“Still dumb.” you pinch the neckline of her tank, straining it up to wipe her mouth clean.

“Coulda’ just used my hand.” she still does, the dork, purging any excess to the hill of her bent wrist.

You scrunch your nose fakely, “Uck,” and express, mumbling, “Bring a rag next time.”

Her hands then drop, creeping towards your sides, “Didn't think we were gonna–”

“Liar.”

Those strapping hands bend with wrinkles in her knuckles as they plant pleasantly on your hips, fingernails curling with lustier keys, tugging you plane on her body, “You're so fucking cute,” is all she could say, because there was no stem of denial baying for a different answer,

Doing this was always lingering a tail on her thoughts.

“And such a bitch, fuuck– want you so bad,” complained she, pushing the last of her grizzled groans past her blood–swell lips, which now dive in the sweaty nook of your swan neck– bespattering the sensitivity, “–need y’so bad..”

You comb a paw of fingers through her honey–cresten mane, dividing strands apart and giving a fond press to her scalp, whispering upon her pale–rosen ear, “Then have me–”

“I can’t,” her crumbled lips fail to cling, dragging dry beneath your ear, “I fucking can’t.” wearily said, wearing her voice to nothing.

Infidelity.

Wasn't nice at all, on both sidewalks.

A purer bid of tears wet her cheek, drenching into the flesh of your neck as she pushes into you, holding you dear, vast afar from intentions to let go.

“I know..” was a rare comfort, and wasn't one to you right now– for plucking that apple, ripped you of innocence. A blind eye you turn when sensuality is awake. Enrapture chokes your senses, sweeps you in the moment, clouds your memory of those ugly, nasty etceteras– those facets that deplore it. Even now, when Ellie collapses weight onto her ankles, pressing you into that same wall you saw heaven on, touching heartbeats incandescent for each other's total consumption, weeping wet on your bare shoulder– it hurts, aches you to say, “But I don't want to know.”

Clutch of your neckline, she bruises her knuckles tight in it, spiteful almost– gagging on tears that roll the wrong road, “Guh– fucking hell, don't say that..”

“Ellie, it's–”

“Don't.”

“Not your fault.” you flap your fingers up, palm still glued, patting her head.

She doesn't belong to you.

Yet you act like she does.

Pity.

A sniffle is the intake of air you feel before her nose skims off, craning her neck to an angle where she can gaze adjacent to your cheek, for beholding may prove a demise. But she can't forgo this one ask, this dream perched upon her brain, “Babe..” she purrs, dead of cadence.

“Hmm?” a whirl invites your nose to her cheekbone, offering you the picture of her side–profile. Oh, those lashes so dashing, they curl, darken her snow of eye, and trap tears.

Why, it's as if a rainbow overcasts those auburn reeds.

Ellie's capsized tune finds its stream back to that scratchy rasp, silkenly intoning on your earlobe, “Can you sleep with me tonight?” her buds ghost the rim, popping on the syllables.

Is that even possible?

You debate with the figments in your mind, casting doubt over your facial muscles, knitting, “Ellie, you know–”

“I don't.”

“Els.”

Long forked strokes of her fingers run up your jaw, scrolling you to then focus on her face cocooning your entire sight, and a husk enlaces you, “Forget about Dina,” a glimmer summons her lips to curl once again, “just tonight, fucking please?”

Fucking please.

A silence rots in the cordial space sparsely separating you, wrenching her brows with a ravine indenting between them– the serious look you love. And her hold of hands appear to deepen in your cheeks, claiming your skin as one, melting into her prints, squeezing a reply from you.

“Please?”

Odds may dote on you, think about this.

“Okay.”

(couldn't tag everyone who wanted to be)

taglist; @whore4abby @aouiaa @ellieslittlewhore @baumbii @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @fleshunger @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @fairyysoiree @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @disaster-bi-suki @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @ellieswh0r3 @beemillss @elsmissingfingers @bugaboodarling @slynxs @maleelee @savannahsdeath @beforeimdeceased @fleshunger @williamellieslilho @mcqueeferson @pretty-prrincess-13 @naomis-daydream @weridcatttyy @gold-dustwomxn @evera-era @criminallydownbad @yohibmbi @ang3licpretty

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thecapricunt1616 · 10 months ago

Text

Allspice (c.b oneshot)

𝐵𝓁𝓊𝓇𝒷 (𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐵𝒯𝒞): You were so engrossed in the work, that you hadn’t even realized someone had approached your table until they cleared their throat awkwardly. Your gaze slowly travels up, seeing a blue apron covering a white shirt, tattooed hands holding- your meal? Your eyes flicker up to his piercing blue ones. “Chilean Sea Bass” he sets it in front of you. You snort a laugh. “Hm.” You look around before back at him “These people” you motion to the restaurant. “Other patrons. Which meals of theirs did you bring out- Chef?” You accentuate the last word, it was all too uncommon for a chef to personally bring a meal out to a table.

♡ O.S Inspo: Forever & Always - Fearless (TV) ; "Was I out of line, did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide like a scared little boy?" ♡ Pairing : CarmyxAFAB Reader as little physical description possible | She/Her pronouns used, NO use of Y/N :) ♡ Summary: You have a very successful Culinary Review blog, the social media manager of one of your new hometown restaurants 'The Bear' has been dying to get you out to try their food. But since the EC is a bit of an overzealous competitor, you end up having to go back for round 2- you end up having a delicious dinner, and a free show.

♡ W/C: 4,381

♡ Posted Date: 03/18/24

♡ A/N: FIRST THING: I am HORRIDDDD at writing Claire- I'm much better at writing Carmy cause were alot more similar- so this Claire isn't gonna be CRAZY canon, but I think she got the job done. Anyway- EEEEEP!!! Here is my VERY FIRST ONE SHOT EVER!! Inspired by my amazing, wonderful, PRECIOUS FLOWER @daysofyellowroses that can be found here :) AAAAA!!! My precious Rose I hope you enjoy this, It could ABSOLUTELY have a part 2 if y'all like it. I ended it here cause I'm sooo wordy and I didn't want it to turn in to a multi-chap. fic by mistake...but ofc if y'all want more just tell me and ill get RIGHT TO WORK!!! I really hope this comes off how I saw it in my head. There's no smut/sexy stuff, just mutual pining and flirty teasing, I hope thats ok!! aaa here we goooo!!! Enjoy <3

♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, Drinking alcohol (Literally it LOL)

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Being a Food Critic wasn’t an easy gig, as much as people wanted to believe it’s simply going to famous restaurants, trying their most popular dishes- and giving your opinion, it was much more then that.

Each and every aspect of the restaurant was under your review, from the second you walked in the door, you were judging everything. From the atmosphere, to the music, to the decor, to the comfortability of the furniture all of it, was to meet your expectations if the owner of the establishment wanted a good review.

Today was finally the day you'd review one of the restaurants that had sent 3 requests for you to feature a review of them on your blog.

The Bear. Interesting name, you thought.

With the rugged name- you’d assumed a more millennial hipster-New American vibe. But when you’d arrived- you were quite…impressed? That instead of leaning into that all too common aesthetic, it was more of a classy, comfortable vibe.

They’d not even had bear art, anything of the sort. It was pure comfort, mixed with subtle class. The kind that spoke to the cost of the dishes- but wasn’t in your face obnoxious. The only ‘Bear’ was the little golden bear embossed into the leather menu you’d been handed when seated at the table.

The way you did your reviews was…a tad unusual - some chefs in the industry called it ‘unfair’ but you called it…the fairest things could be. Instead of telling them when you’d be swinging by for a review since where’s the fun in that you’d call, make a reservation under some random name, and they’d know you’d accepted their offer when the review had been posted on your blog.

It felt most honest and fair because you were one of the most renowned food critics in the country right now. If they knew you were coming- any EC with a brain would spend the night before your arrival, prepping the entire restaurant and staff - assuring they’d be on their best behavior to try and squeeze a higher grade out of you.

But you were just a reader once upon a time, years ago- when you realized in culinary school that the making of the art didn’t interest you, it was the observing. Food wasn’t just about taste, but rather the whole experience. And if every famous food critic you’d taken interest in back in the day- never got a true experience due to their notability? You’d never have gotten into this field. So, you were most keen on keeping things fair.

A woman with mousey brown hair comes up to your table, dressed in the typical waitress slacks and black button up shirt. “Hello! Welcome to The Bear. My name is Sam, have you dined with us before?” she asks.

You sit up in your chair, peeling your eyes from the menu. You give her a small kind smile “I haven’t” you replied, urging her to continue her script.

“Well welcome in, we're so happy you chose to spend your evening with us. So for our menu” she opens it in front of you. “Here” she points “are our wine options, fabulous selection this month. Then we have draft beers right next to it. On the following page” she points “all of our craft cocktails, then this,” she points in the bottom corner.

“Our house cocktail - Just called The Bear. It’s wonderful, if you like old fashions you’ll love this - made with Bearface Triple Oak Whiskey.” She said and you nod.

“That please. That’s what I’ll start with” you said and she nodded.

“I’ll get that right in. But quickly, just so you’re aware” she flipped the page and pointed.

“These - are the dishes of the month. Each crafted by one of our two head chefs, they change monthly so if something calls to you I recommend you try- because it won’t be back” she said. You raised your eyebrows a bit in surprise and nod.

“Thank you” you said and she gives a nod before heading off to the bar to put in your drink order before heading off to tend to other tables in your section.

Having an alternating menu intrigued you, for such a high end establishment- one with a Michelin star at that- implementing such a menu would consistently have their star at risk. One dish, one app, one drink- that was not up to par and it would be revoked. You guessed the owners of this place liked living on the edge, as if being in this industry wasn’t already being constantly on edge.

You gaze over the menu, the Chilean Seabass sounded like a fair assessment. Seafood was quite difficult to get right, especially in the springtime before peak season, and you’d be able to judge the consistency of the chopping and such because there was a fresh tomato corn salad that came with it. That was your rule when you came to judge restaurants, one main course, and one dessert.

You’d felt like the main courses were the true stars of the show anyhow, and it would be unfair to muck up your palate with an app that was usually something easy to get right (since they were usually fried, covered in cheese, or some kind of carb). And the dessert usually showed the restaurant's creativity, which you loved to see, so 2 dishes was your max.

The waitress returns with the cocktail, setting it down with a napkin under it. “Here you are, now- have you decided on a starter?” She questioned and you shook your head.

“Straight to the good stuff, I’d like the Chilean Sea Bass please. And for dessert,” you flick the page and your eyes settle on the words savory cannoli - hmm, imaginative indeed. “And uh- The Michael Cannoli?” You said, shutting the menu and handing it to her.

She nods with a smile, jotting down the order into her notepad before taking the menu and holding it to her chest. “That will be out soon as possible. Enjoy your drink” she said and headed back to the kitchen.

You sit back sipping the cocktail and humming. She was right, much like an old fashioned, but floral notes. Almost…chamomile? Yes! That was it. Very interesting.

You slipped your iPad out of your bag, opening up your journaling app and grabbing the pencil out of the little sleeve. You quickly snapped a picture with your phone of the drink, airdropping it to yourself and adding it into the entry and writing;

‘To start; ‘The Bear’ house cocktail- initial thoughts ; not too sweet, strong (but not overpowering), chamomile? Some kind of herbal tea flower’

You take another sip, letting the flavors sit on your tongue a moment before swallowing. “Mmm!” You hum to yourself, finally realizing where the herby taste beneath the chamomile was coming from that gave it that oaky piney taste.

‘Angostura bitters- will confirm!!’ You wrote just as someone approaches your table. You look up to see a man, short brown hair, stubble. He was smiling, holding a plate.

“Hello! Here we have Arancini with our house-made pesto, courtesy of Executive Chef Carmen” he placed the dish in front of you next to your iPad. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, looking up at him, scarcel confused.

“Wrong table” you murmured, thumbing the dish back in his direction lightly. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Nope- ah, he- he said this table.” He replied. It did smell fantastic, and any other day you’d never deny delicious, deep fried balls of risotto dipped in smooth, decedent pesto- but you’re working right now and it’s not fair.

“Well, you can tell him” you lifted the dish, offering it back. “I have a system. And I’m unsure how he realized that I’m coming here, tonight, but I dislike cheaters. And he should know if he’s read my blog- I don’t muck up my palate with grease before I try the main course.” The plate was so close to him now it was nearly digging into his chest.

He nodded quickly, taking the plate without another word and briskly walking back to the kitchen. You sat back in your seat with a slight scoff.

He thinks he can win you over just like that? How did he even know you would be here?

You picked up your pencil once again, adding a note.

For the chef; Arancini smelt delicious. Didn’t order it, so I didn’t taste it . Presentation wise; 7/10. Pesto looked like it was spooned in the dish a tad bit messy to me.

You smiled to yourself, you knew he’d read the final review once it was posted. And since he wanted to be a little cheater and get a overall higher score since he was trying to weasel you into trying extra dishes- you’d kick his ego down a few extra pegs for fun.

You sat, nursing your drink, adding extra little notes here and there, as well as editing a blog post about Ghost Kitchens you’d been working on and how they were ruining the mobile order industry on the side. You were so engrossed in the work, that you hadn’t even realized someone had approached your table until they cleared their throat awkwardly.

Your gaze slowly travels up, seeing a blue apron covering a white shirt, tattooed hands holding- your meal? Your eyes flicker up to his piercing blue ones. “Chilean Sea Bass” he sets it in front of you. You snort a laugh.

“Hm.” You look around before back at him “These people” you motion to the restaurant. “Other patrons. Which meals of theirs did you bring out- Chef?” You accentuate the last word, it was all too uncommon for a chef to personally bring a meal out to a table.

You swore even in the ambient lighting, his cheeks flushed slightly. “You- uh- you declined, my Arancini. Why?” He asked, holding his hands behind his back, the position making his already toned and tattooed arms appear more muscular. It makes him all the more impressive he has all these tattoos and still made it in this industry. I can only imagine the shit he got for them.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his boldness. “Because that’s Cheating. Mr.Berzatto. I’d assume you know my work well. Considering you know what I look like, so- why try to cheat? You know how I feel about appetizers. It’s a scapegoat.” You shrugged, locking your iPad when you realized he’d been peeking at the notes.

“Messy” his eyes narrow. He scoffs a bit, alluding to the note you’d written a short while prior “Messy?” He asks again, you laugh a bit.

“Mmhmm! Oh, was it you chef? Wow…I mean- now that I think about it” you shook your head, now just messing with him since you see how much he was dying to impress you. “I could’ve sworn- the pesto it just..was too loose. Overblended maybe? That’s why it was impossible to plate without making a mess.” You shrugged, cutting up your fish carefully and spreading the vegetables with your knife to observe the cohesivity of the cuts.

He scoffs, “too- too loose?! W-y’know what. No. No. It- you’re gonna try it.” He demands and you look up at him, nearly laughing at the seriousness of his tone.

“That depends. Bring me a pesto worth trying and I’ll think about it. Now” you wave him off casually “I can’t work with the chef over my shoulder. So- Shoo chef don’t bother me” you teased and he shook his head.

“Game on.” He muttered, heading back to the kitchen.

You smiled to yourself, the Arancini absolutely isn’t going into the review. But you’ll humor his ego by trying it.

You cut the fish thoroughly, checking the texture and the evenness of the seasonings slathered on the skin, writing little notes as you go along. The cuts of the vegetables were pristine. Nearly perfect. The only misshapen pieces were clearly cosmetic defects of the vegetable. The chef that cut these was immaculate with a knife.

When you took your first bite, you nearly moaned. The fish was buttery, the skin was crispy, slightly spicy, tangy, the flesh melted in your mouth. The risotto was so cheesy and buttery and wonderful. You could eat this meal every night for the rest of your life and never get sick of it. It was the best Sea bass you’d ever tasted.

You opened your iPad again, jotting down notes about the flavors, the mouth feel, all the usual points you hit in your review.

This meal is a 9.2 out of 10.

You write at the bottom. Very fair score, you never had rated something as a 10. Something being a 10 would be- you don’t even know what it would be. But it would be what the score says, perfection. And while this dish was wonderful, and very very good- it was not perfect. At least to your heavily trained palate.

You finished what you wanted out of the meal, pushing the plate to the side and not soon after, Carmen was back at your table. He placed the plate in front of you, 3 perfectly circular Arancini discs were placed equal distance on the plate, and truly beautiful pesto, sat in the dish alongside it. It frankly was immaculately plated.

“Unbroken pesto. Sorry again, about the last one.” He said, watching you carefully. You hum as you grab your fork, splitting one of the discs and digging out some of the risotto.

“Could be firmer.” You said, eyes flicking to his. He nods, clearing his throat a bit.

“It’s not- uh- it’s”

“Fresh” you finished for him, raising your brows and he nods. “So- since you’re frying it. You cook it for about..a minute- maybe forty seconds less than you usually would.” You said, daintily taking the bite off your fork.

“Heard..” he nodded, waiting for your reaction. You hummed a bit.

“Great balance of parm and butter though. I’ll give you that. Neither overpowers the other, that’s hard to do considering the notes” you added, cutting up the crust and tasting it.

“Mm-“ you scrunch your nose and his face visibly drops. “Mm-mm…no- not peanut oil…why would you do that? It totally overpowers the breadcrumb with this like…cheapy taste. I’d say it would be way better if you fried it in sunflower oil” you added, digging out more of the risotto and dipping it in the pesto before having a bite and humming.

“This though” you point at the little dish of green sauce with your fork. “This is great.” You add and he nods.

“Ok-yeah…ok…” he nods, rubbing his hand over his chin. “Thank y’for trying it.” He said and you nod.

“I’ll be back for a fair assessment. I think I’ll pass on the cannoli tonight, and just get the bill. Thank you” you slipped your pencil in the case before putting your iPad in your bag and holding your hands on the table in front of you.

“Y-y’re coming back” he said, sounding slightly surprised.

You shrugged “well- you clearly want a full review based on your behavior tonight, Chef. So I’ll humor you. I won’t tell you when of course, so just pray that it’s a day like today-“ you paused, looking around. “Where things seem to be running…alright.” You sat back in your chair casually with a small smile.

“I look forward to your review.” He gave a nod and headed back to the kitchen.

It was 3 weeks before you’d decided to return back to The Bear spring had quickly turned to early summer, and you thought you’d given enough time for your little conversation with the head chef to slip his mind.

It was 9:20, 40 minutes before closing. You did promise to come back at a random time, and no time is more random then a Friday night less than an hour before the kitchen closed.

You pulled open the door, stepped in and headed up to the host stand where the same man that originally offered you the Arancini stood. “The picky critic returns.” He said, tapping his pen against the reservation book absentmindedly.

“She does” you smiled a bit.

“Well lucky f’you cousin said you get a table any time, right this way” he leads you to a booth near the back, where you had a perfect view of the restaurant. Much cozier then before, right next to the doors of the kitchen where you could hear the back of house crew buzzing about.

“Same cocktail as last time?” He asked and you raised your brows in slight surprise as you sit.

“No waitress?” You asked, getting comfortable and setting your iPad down next to the empty plate.

“She’ll be over, just figured a friendly offer couldn’t hurt” he said with a small smirk.

You roll your eyes playfully. “House cocktail please, and thank you. But don’t count on kindness boosting your hospitality score-“ you stop, realizing he never gave you his name.

“Richie” he said, sticking his hand out to shake.

“Richie.” You repeat, giving him your firm professional shake.

“House cocktail comin’ up” he said and headed back to the bar. You mulled over the menu, lemon chicken picatta, that sounded like a perfect dish to judge this time around.

A few minutes later, Richie returns, setting the glass down in front of you. “Waitress should be by momentarily, enjoy your meal” he said, heading back to the host stand.

A bit after the waitress came to take your order, the restaurant had begun to die down. You were going to be the last person served tonight it looked like, since in 5 minutes they would stop seating people.

You added additional notes to your section about the cocktail, getting a better photo of it for your blog when you hear a bit of commotion up front.

You look up, to see a woman with curled brown hair in navy blue scrubs, her hands on her hips, talking with Richie with a frustrated look. There were tears in her eyes, you couldn’t help but tune in to their conversation.

“Richie, please let me see him- he- he hasn’t said anything and I…I just need to hear him say it to my face. Please!” She begs, tears were streaming down her face now.

Richie looks around nervously, tugging her to the side so they weren’t standing right in front of the host stand. You lean over just a bit- not so much it would be noticeable, but enough your nosy ears could continue to pick up what was being said.

“Claire. You shouldn’t be here…I’m sorry- he told me-he said that..that you can’t come here anymore. It’s too much and he will apologize when he can find the words. But he can’t. So please before he sees you. Leave” he said softly, attempting to soothingly rub her arm and she jerks away like his touch burned her skin.

“Fuck you, Richie. Get him. Now. I’m not working on his time anymore. This is my time now. I’ve waited around enough for him. I’m done waiting. Either get him yourself? Or I swear to god I’ll go in that kitchen and embarrass the fucking shit out of him” she hissed.

Your eyebrows raised, shit. Whoever fucked her over should at least be warned.

He snorts, clearly amused before stepping back and raising his arms in defeat. “Have at it ClaireBear.” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think he’s gonna take kindly to you startin’ w’him in his house? Be my guest.” He shrugged, going back over to the host stand.

And then it clicked. She’s here for Carmen.

She laughed dryly, sarcastically, like a woman who’d had it. “You think I’m scared? Richie? You think I’m scared of little Carmy who couldn’t even check out a library book by himself? mm?” She goads him, arms crossed, chest heaving with rage.

His head snaps back to look at her, brows raised in shock. “Kid- I really think you should go calm the fuck down, because Y’re not gonna like the way that this conversation ends w’him- at all.”

And with that, she shoves open the kitchen door. You couldn’t just sit there and not watch- this was the juiciest drama you’d ever been privy to in person, and this means he’s single. You slightly curse yourself for being so giddy that this means the sexy chef would likely be on the market.

Your foot catches the door before it closes, leaning against the frame. She storms in, eyes frantically darting over the kitchen.

“Carmen.” She barks, the entire kitchen stops moving and looks at her, as if they were in shock and awe someone would ever raise their voice to him in such a way.

He rounds the corner, holding a pan of focaccia dough that he nearly drops at the sight of her. He blinks a few times, squeezing his eyes shut as if she’d disappear when he opened them again.

“The fuck are you-“ his eyes meet yours, his face going pale quickly, he looked white as a sheet. “Leave.” He orders her, slamming the dough down on the counter.

“Leave?!” She laughs coldly, “you’re gonna tell me to leave?! You’re a fucking pussy Carmen. A pussy. Y’know- it was charity giving you a chance. Pity work.” She spits and you blink a few times, taken aback by such harsh words.

Is she serious? She thinks anyone could believe dating a super hot, ripped, talented, chef prodigy - that was charity work in any sense of the word?

He scoffs, “Charity?” He chuckled dryly. “Claire- you begged me to fuckin’ be with you! You-you-y’re a fuckin gnat! Claire! You- all you do is-is fuckin’-” he runs his hand through his hair, his chest heaving in anger, “You dont know me, Claire! Alright? There- And I-I-I don’t want you i’m-i’m sorry-”

She laughed, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “You-” she whispered, her chest shaking with a sob. “You- fucker- I- I gave you a chance…” she whispered and gripped her wrist sadly. “I- I was there for you, Carmen- when no one else could fucking stand you.” she croaked.

“And I never asked for you too- please- just…leave me alone-” he shook his head. “Leave. Please…just-pretend we never happened, it was a mistake, Claire.” he breathed, clearly utterly defeated, and It sounded like he’d told this girl these same words multiple times.

“M-Mikey would be sick- Carmy, he’d- he’d hate who you’ve become…” she said meekly, and with that- something behind his eyes snapped.

“Claire I’m not DOING THIS I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKIN’ RESTAURANT. WERE OVER. YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME! YOU MEAN NOTHING CLAIRE!” He roars, the veins in his neck popping out, angrily and aggressively pointing to the door. “OUT. get the fuck out. G-get out, b-before I-I-I fuckin- holy fuck” he finds his composure once more, even though his breath was still ragged from his outburst, flicking his hand next to him his entire body trembling with panic.

She looks to her left and right, she’s not that-

Your thoughts were quickly proven wrong, when you see she was stupid enough to grab a pan off the stove to whip at him.

“Aht!” the spanish woman standing a few paces to the right said, quickly grabbing the arm with the pan and twisting it behind her back. “Drop it.” she hissed.

Carmen looks between the two of them, utterly in shock. “Y-y’were gonna hit me?” He asked her, face twisting in rage. “Fuck you. Fuck you Claire.” He seethed, taking the pan from his employees grasp and tossing it in the sink with a loud clatter.

“Get the fuck out” you told her, grabbing her from the handle of the woman who’d stopped the assault, shoving her towards the kitchen door and into the front of the restaurant. “Y’re a fuckin crazy bitch.” You laughed dryly, giving her a hard shove for good measure.

“Oh and who are you” she straightened herself out, pushing her bag up on her shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Glad to see that Carmy still needs someone to protect him. I’ll gladly give up that spot.” she said, causing you to laugh.

“Oh my god- you are pathetic. He just spelt it clear as day sweetheart- you are over. O-v-e-r. He doesn’t want you babe! And no, he doesn’t need my protection- I was enjoying dinner and apparently a show until you went batshit bitch.” You snip, plopping back down at your booth.

She scoffed “he doesn’t want anyone. The only thing he wants - is to remain miserable. Good fucking luck, whoever you are.” She said before stomping out.

“Yo she was really gonna throw somethin?” Richie asked as he walked over. Thankfully, it was just you, him, and the bartender in the front of the restaurant.

You nod “thankfully she didn’t realize I was there- Carmen would have had a nasty burn, and a concussion.” You said, taking a large sip of your drink.

Carmen comes out, eyes meeting yours immediately. “Fuck- I- don’t worry y’re meal is comped and don’t…don’t worry about a review, i’m sorry- I-I guess it wasn't in the cards f’r us to be featured on y’r blog... I’m really so sorry… Shes- ah..” he rubs his arm nervously, trying to find the words.

“A woman scorned” You teased, and he snorts a laugh, nodding a bit.

“Hell hath no fury, right?” He joked, sighing a bit. “It’s uh…it’s my fault I guess…I uh- I should’ve dealt with that…I've been putting it off” he said and you nod a bit.

“You off the clock?” you looked at your phone for the time, 10:07.

“Shit- fuck- sorry- I’m so sorry- give me like- I was making y’r food…and then-” you shook your head, stopping him.

“No- No…I was uh-Asking to see if you maybe wanted to..have a drink with me? Not-not like…professionally…” you shrugged, stirring your half full cocktail with the bar straw that floated in it.

“Sure- uh…sure- I’d like that lemme..lemme go change, i’ll be right out” he nodded, heading back into the kitchen.

251 notes · View notes

lokideservesahug · 7 months ago

Text

Love in 3D

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x reader. Part of this Mall AU collab with @ham1lton

☆ -idiots in love | fluff | comedy | smau + written ☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Warnings: A teensy bit suggestive at a few points, Logan and reader have crushes on each other but are super oblivious, mention to Oscar + his love intrest in the series (it's like a multiverse!)

Notes: I took liberties with what films were showing so it doesn't reflect their actual release date or showing time irl. A special thanks to @ham1lton for allowing me to be apart of this, brainstorming with me and beta-ing my work (you're amazing and ily <33 :D).

Summary:When you go to the cinema to watch a film that a friend of yours suggested, the last thing you expected to do was to develop a crush on a certain American worker (or be handed an excuse to come back). Or alternatively, when you keep on going back to the cinema, it's because you're just a massive cinephile...right?

Slight prelude here

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Now when a friend told you to visit the cinema because you just "had to see this new film, it's so...you!" you didn't think much of it. You had avoided looking at reviews for it online and excused the visit as a means to treat yourself, especially with how hard you've been working recently. After taking a short journey into the centre of town, you traverse to the movie theatre. You walk through the towering glass doors and are suddenly enveloped by the comforting atmosphere. The low key, warm lighting bouncing off of the harsh crimson furniture in all directions makes you feel almost at home when paired with the low mumble of families waiting to see films and discussing ones they'd just viewed.

The atmosphere almost makes you feel drowsy so unsurprisingly, you wholeheartedly believe you are living a dream when you walk up to the counter and the most gorgeous man ever stands before you. His green eyes meet yours in a friendly encounter and you give him a quick one over. Your eyes scan from the bottom of his worn out, white trainers to his stained, blue t-shirt (was that butter splotched in the middle?) and even to his long blonde/brownish hair - that clearly hadn't been cut in a while as it swoops over his face, making him look like a prince-.

Somehow, your brain manages to coherently string together a thought that isn't focused on the man in front of you as you ask for "One ticket to see ‘Cats’ please." Yet as soon as the words leave your lips, you're back to daydreaming about the innocent cinema worker behind the counter. You've never seen him before because you're sure you'd have noticed. But then again, you were in the middle of town so of course you don't know everyone. How foolish. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't even notice him softly asking you a question.

Your eyes widen in horror for a moment. Oh no. What did he say? Eager to only please him, you tilt your head and utter out a timid "Yes?" which sounds as confused as you feel. You glance down at his nametag as a means to hide your confusion and are met by the sight of a neat, embossed ‘Logan' in the centre. However, the answer must have been right because the man’s, Logan you suppose, face splits out into a toothy grin and he mutters a few positive sounding adjectives in response.

“Great. I'll get one ready for you now." He drops to a squat and rummages behind the counter as you furrow your brows. Did you just sign up for something? He pops his head back up from below the counter and you give him a small smile (that feels really quite uncertain with your fate. "Can I get a name for the card, please?" You respond with your name and his soft smile and compliment make your cheeks feel warm. He hands the card to you and you feel your breath catch in your throat at the brief contact of his warm fingers on yours.

"Have a great day and enjoy the film." You turn to mush at his sweet smile and begin to long to see only that sight until your dying day. You utter out a small "You too." and at that moment, you finally regain consciousness and want the ground to suck you up. Logan laughs melodically at your slip up which makes you smile at his laughter. "So sorry. I didn't mean that... I was just distracted!" This causes his laughter to die down as he squints his eyes and one side of his mouth curls up as if he was beginning to smirk. You shoot him a small smile and swiftly pivot and speed for an exit this time with a small "Have a nice day. Thank you."

As you finally reach your seat, you look down at the ticket and card he gave you. Huh? The tickets are much cheaper than you expected. Maybe you'd have to come back again sooner (and you suppose the cute workers aren't any deterrent). You place the ticket on the arm rest and your attention is drawn straight to the card he also placed in your hand. This must be what you unknowingly agreed to. You shake your head, cursing (and praising) your mindless state earlier as you look at the month long cinema pass lying in your hands. Well maybe you would have an excuse to come back soon after all.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Logan stares at the man opposite him, gently tapping on the counter. The American had never acutely noticed just how non-existent his love life truly is. Well, until he met you, now he finds that every moment when you weren't blessing his shifts to be dull and in his books, futile.

Oscar's words cut through his thoughts. "Well, I think you can try and make it more obvious? I've heard some people give discounts to the customers they really like. Maybe you can try doing that?"

Logan looks down and blushes. "I uh... I've already given her a staff discount." Oscar lets out a slow exhale. "Damn... you never-" "Yeah I know." Logan has only just accepted that he has feelings for the Y/H/C girl, let alone broken work policy... Himself a few weeks ago would have gone into cardiac arrest at just the thought.

"Damn, you must be whipped." Oscar's laugh at the end makes Logan break into his own set of laughter. “Well, no…” Oscar reaches for a roll from the floor to ceiling cupboard and pivots with a ‘Hearty Italian’ roll in his hand whilst simultaneously raising an eyebrow at the blonde man, making Logan laugh in resignation. “Yeah, something like that." The Aussie grins at his friend's newfound carefree nature. It has been a long time since Oscar has seen Logan this happy and the two of them have known each other a very long time. Oscar slices the sub as Logan begins his soliloquy.

“But you don't get it, Osc. She’s just… I’ve never seen such a gorgeous woman before . I mean the other day I told her a joke and she actually laughed.” Oscar smiles and mutters “no way” in the same manner in which you’d speak to a child. “And when she laughed I swear it was a taste of what heaven is like!” Oscar hums in acknowledgment as he mindlessly flicks a handful of ham slices onto the bread. “And last week, she bought some popcorn, which I couldn't charge her for of course, but she had both caramel and butter together. I’ve never met anyone else that does that!” Logan releases a dreamy sigh as Oscar opens the large toaster door and slides the roll in.”She’s perfect Osc. I think we were made to be together.”

"Well," the Aussie begins whilst turning round and getting the sandwich from the toaster. "I say if she comes back then you shoot your shot. I mean who was it that was complaining the other week about their 'truly abysmal love life' ?" Logan looks down and chuckles. "Yeah man I mean it still is that bad but..." Oscar smiles in acknowledgement, he has his own struggling love life and completely understands Logan's dilemma.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You sigh as you fall back on the sofa. “So let me get this straight. You decided that the best course of action was to just go to his work several several times a week.” You turn and squint your eyes at your best friend's words. “Well no but…” She rolls her eyes at you. “But what Y/N/N? Because it sounds an awful lot like you're just trying to deny your feelings for him but still seeking out his company if it's for a few moments.”

You stay silent as you ponder her words. “I'm just worried about you getting hurt from this. I mean he's probably not even that cute.” You shake your head at her. “Oh no, he really is.” She tilts her head with a questioning look. “It's just… He's so sweet. He always helps the elderly customers and is such a gentleman. Oh and don't get me started on how good he looks. I mean his eyes are such a gorgeous, enigmatic mix. And Oh those arms. You should see them when they fle-”

“Oookay. I get it Juliet.” You sigh in longing at just the thought of Logan. “We will put a pin in that for later because there is a lot to unpack there.” You give her a tight-lipped, thankful grin. “So, moving on, did you hear what happened to Melanie last week?” You try to push the thought of your favourite American to the back of your mind as you focus on the latest gossip of your friend. Besides, lack of boy talk should do you some good for once.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Oscar slides the signature sub across the counter. "Thanks, mate." Logan smiles and unwraps the warm sandwich and takes a bite. Logan groans at the familiar taste. "Damn it's not that wonderful mate." Logan shakes his head at Oscar's words. And looks around quickly, piquing Oscar's interest. The older of the two leans forward and speaks in a hushed whisper. "I came in last week and that new employee made my sandwich...." Logan pulls a face that can only be described as depicting pure, unadulterated disgust. Oscar only laughs in response. "It's not funny mate, I didn't know a sandwich could taste that horrible and I have the simplest thing ever!" Oscar shakes his head and sports a distasteful expression at just the thought of his co-worker. But doesnt make any effort to hide the expression as he begins to speak. "Yeah well, at least you have a good meal now." Logan tilts his head "Yeah I guess so." He glances at the clock and curses. "I'm going to be late! Thanks Osc, catch you later." Logan scrambles out of the food court towards the escalator and Oscar is left in historical laughter at his best friend's frenzied, pining state.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

When Saturday roles around, you decide that unsurprisingly, you are going to visit the mall you have found yourself frequenting recently. Surprisingly though, you walk through the doors with good, honest intentions today. You have a film in mind that you are desperate to see and you take a small amount of pride in the fact that you are visiting for the cinema’s true purpose rather than going just to ogle the cute American behind the counter. Over the past few weeks, you have seen a multitude of reruns of old, black and white films, only shown a handful of times all the way to new kids films just as an excuse to visit your favourite worker (not that you'd ever admit that of course).

However, as you approach the counter, eyes scanning all of the workers' space, you can’t seem to find Logan. Instead, you are met by the sight of a slightly older, quite attractive, blonde man (that is unsurprisingly very much taken as you gather from the shiny gold band on his weathered hand). As if he notices your wandering eyes, he asks “Anything wrong love?” Your eyes snap to meet his. “Sorry?” He gives you a friendly smile, “You just look quite distracted, that’s all.” You shake your head. “Sorry I just…” the words seem embarrassing now that you think of them. Oh yeah, sorry sir I only visit because I’ve got a massive crush on one of the workers here and I’m just really upset that you aren't him.

You pull yourself out of your thoughts and address the man - a quick glance down at his name badge informs you that he is Jenson, a senior manager at the cinema. You nearly grin at the sweet badges pinned to his landward, hanging next to the badge; a multitude of film quote badges and oddly a few bakery item pins? How random. You focus your attention back on the man. “Can I have one ticket to go and see ‘Challengers’ please?” Jenson nods and types on the digital keypad in front of him. You reach down and rummage around in your bag to try and find the cinema card (and your payment card of course). When your fingers find the edge of the cards, you pull them out and hold the cards stationary in the air, level with the worker’s screen. “I have this cinema card that you can scan.” Jenson’s eyes widen, he gives you a quick look over before his mouth splits into a toothy grin. “Ah!” is all he says before he gently takes the cards and swipes them one after another in the card slot.

His expression makes you feel as if you’ve been left out of something important but you don’t have much time to linger on the thought before Jenson is walking away from where he stood with a small promise that he’ll return shortly. You rock backwards on the balls of your feet in suspense, maybe the card didn’t work? You look around, a small part of you is hoping to somehow catch a glimpse of your newfound crush but to no avail. The mechanical sound of tickets being printed breaks you from your scanning of the lobby. Jenson places the tickets and the two cards back in your hand. Yet surprisingly, he also slides a large bag of popcorn in your direction. You give him a questioning glance. Was this yet another thing you’d managed to agree to buy without realising? Jenson only gives you another of those wide smiles before answering “He talks about you a lot. And you're the only one to have bought one of these cards. Well, unless you’re Bertie but you certainly don’t look 80 years old.”

His words make you blush and huff out a small laugh. You pocket your cards, grab the bag of popcorn and walk away muttering a small thanks. You find your seat, mind whirring over what is left in front of you. On your left armrest is a bag of caramel and butter popcorn, paired with the memory of Jenson’s words. “He spoke about you” Your cheeks warm at the thought of Logan possibly reciprocating your feelings. And then you fully settle into your seat, prepared to finally focus on the screen, you can’t help but notice that the price on the ticket is higher than usual… How odd…

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Meanwhile, Logan's phone:

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Logansargeant

Logansargeant: A nice weekend off for once

Liked by Oscarpiatri, Alexalbon and 46 others

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Oscarpiatri: mate you ditched me for a golf weekend?

↳Logansargeant: Sorry Osc, I just needed to get my thoughts together

↳Osarpiastri: ooh. Is this about **********

↳Logansargeant: Shush mate, you can make it less obvious.

↳Alexalbon: Oooh who or what is **********?!?🤨

↳Oscarpiastri: 🤐 i’m afraid i’m sworn to secrecy

↳Alexalbon: Booo. You’re no fun

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

For the entirety of the day, Logan has been staring at the door each time it opens. At every worship of the automatic doors on the carpet, his head whips up, hoping to find you there, only to be met with a gaggle of 40 year old women or a party of school children. Logan isn't even afraid to admit the reason behind his peculiar behaviour. He has missed his “staring at Y/N time” as Oscar has so fondly nicknamed it.

After the text he received from Jenson, he can't help but feel a buzz of hope linger in his stomach. He's seen you many times before but the fact that you're coming even when he's not here and possibly looking for him (Jenson's words, not his)? Just the thought makes Logan grin. He already had today planned out in his head. You'd walk through those doors with your regular smile and come up to the counter. You’d then ask to see another random film that was showing at a later point today. He’d flash you a smile and when you’d go to pay, he’d stop you and insist that it was his duty to pay for a woman, especially on the first date. You’d be left in wordless awe and would beg him to let you repay him to which he’d only respond by swooping you into an eager ki-. His daydream is interrupted by soft coughing.

His head whips up only to be met with the familiar shade of your eyes which had plagued his dreams for many nights. You give him a soft smile and all of Logan’s previous “plan” exits his mind as he just gets lost in your eyes. He smiles back at you and lets out a breathy “Hi…” Your grin widens. “Hi Logan, how are you today?” Gosh even you just saying his name makes butterflies erupt in his stomach. He readily answers your question and the two of you fall into eager small talk.

It almost hurts you to have to pull out of the conversation but you find yourself needing a distraction from the cute Yank on the other side of the counter. “So do you have any new film recommendations today?” Logan lets out a contemplative hum. “None that you haven't already seen.” You visibly deflate at his words. In the past, you have always been very strategic with when you visit and planned trips when there were new films showing.

However today you didn't look as if you were too wrapped up with just the thought of seeing Logan again. “Oh…” You let out an awkward laugh. “Well I guess you've turned me into a cinephile then.” You inwardly slap yourself at your words. Genius. You've all but outed your crush for him, you might as well get on one knee and start spouting sonnets. Logan's cheeks warm and he gains composure before he responds. “Is there, uh, anything else you can do near here? Go to the record store? He'll, my boss, know a killer bakery that he used to work at if you ever want any recommendations!” You almost feel like spilling your guts to Logan and revealing the true intention of your visits. “Well… In all honesty I've never really explored the rest of the mall, I've mainly stuck to the cinema.”

Logan perks up at your words. This could be his chance. He rubs his shiny palms on his trousers and shakily responds. “Well… I could show you around later if you'd like that?”

You fight the urge to start grinning like a lovesick fool. “I think I'd really quite like that.” Logan's mouth turns into an uncontrollable toothy grin as he laughs in surprise. “Great. Yeah. Amazing. I can't wait!” You giggle at his cute rambling. “What time do you get off?”

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

The two of you sit in content silence. “This was great.” You eagerly nod at the man sitting opposite you as you take another scoop of your plain froyo. “It was truly amazing. Thank you and I hope we can do it again.” He smiles softly at you (despite how often he's done it throughout the evening, you still feel butterflies erupt in your stomach). He replies softly. “I'd love that.” He waves to one of the supervisors (who is involved in a conversation with clearly too much sexual tension with a curly haired man, clearly another supervisor if the badge was anything to look at). She catches Logan's eyeline and nods. After the two of you have paid (Logan insisted that it was his duty to pay) and left the restaurant, you walk around arm in arm with the man with a new found confidence.

“So where to next time? Is it a bit too on the nose to suggest a movie date next time?” Logan laughs breathily as he pulls you into his side. “Sweetheart, I think you've seen enough films to last you a lifetime.”

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Jenson watches as his favourite worker leans over the counter with a wide grin on his face. He thinks back to a similar time when him and his partner were also like that. As you quickly lean in to peck Logan's nose, the older man can't help but feel a sense of pride for the man almost like his son and a sense of joy for your blossoming relationship; which very clearly is the best thing for the both of you.

Logan glances up at the clock every few minutes. His eagerness to clock off makes you giggle. “What's got you so tense?” His face softens. “Sorry. I just really want to take my gorgeous girlfriend to this new shop that's just opened up.” You fight the urge to blush and instead just tilt your head playfully. “Really? What does she look like, maybe I've seen her before.” You glance around and consequently don't notice Logan scrambling over the counter and engulfing you in a large embrace. “Hmmm… I think I've found her.” Your protests get lost in the laughter as the two of you each off, Logan's shift finally at its end.

Jenson watches the two of you exit the building, arm in arm with lovestruck expressions on your faces. Gosh, you were adorable. And gosh he was going to have to do Logan's job and refill the slushy machine…for the third time this week.

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Yourusername

Yourusername: Guys, I have to finally come out and admit it, this is the “view” I went to the cinema for.

Liked by: Logansargeant, Yourbestfriend, Oscarpiatri and 104 others

View all 18 comments:

Yourbestfriend: 😐Simp😐 Also Logan I am out for your blood

↳Logansargeant: What. Why!?!

↳Yourbestfriend: You took my wife from me😫

↳Logansargeant: My wife now (soon)🙂

↳Yourusername: Awww Lo, Ilysm❤❤

Logansargeant: Who is that handsome man?

↳Yourusername: He has a gf, sorry :/

↳Logansargeant: Is his girlfriend single because she is gorgeous?😍😍😍

↳Yourusername: Depends on who's asking🤨

Alexalbon: Awww! So cute to see you together after Logan spent weekends raving about you

↳Logansargeant: Nuh uh

↳Oscarpiastri: fym nuh uh?

↳Yourusername: Aww Lo. You raved about me?

↳Logansargeant: Of course baby how could I not💙

↳Yourusername: You're adorable

↳Oscarpiastri: 😐🤮

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Logansargeant

Logansargeant: Finally made me change my ways (also if you see this and you're Jenson then we aren't breaking any cinema policies and see you on Monday)!!!

Liked by yourusername, Oscarpiatri, Alexalbon and 107 others

View all 24 comments:

Yourusername: Oh my gosh that photo of us outside the cinema turned out so cute❤❤

↳Logansargeant: Only because you're in it💙

↳Yourusername: Charmer…

↳Logansargeant: What can I say? It's the only thing to do when you have such a gorgeous girlfriend😉

↳Yourusername: Lo stop. I'm actually giggling and blushing rn wtf

Oscarpiatri: is this what you do on company time now

↳Logansargeant: I'm afraid so Osc

↳Oscarpiastri: does this mean you'll put a staff discount on my tickets now, finally

↳Logansargeant: Sorry Osc, I don't think I'm allowed

↳Oscarpiastri: oh but your gf has been getting it since before you even started dating!?!?!

↳Yourusername: Awww Lo, really? That's so sweet (and explains the cheap tickets now)

↳Logansargeant: What can I say babe? I've been whipped from the start

Jensonbutton: I suppose I can Ignore the fact that you had your phone out in the cinema room just this once.

↳Logansargeant: And this is why you ate my favourite boss!

↳Jensonbutton: You only have one boss…

↳Logansargeant: So you truly are the best!

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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant #f1 smau #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant fic #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant smau #raceway retail 𐀶

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saythenametotheworld · 4 months ago

Text

Risk | l.jn [2]

Genre: college au; crush-at-first-sight Synopsis: Is this how it feels to fall for someone and slowly lose your shit? You wondered, heart racing and mind spinning as your seemingly innocent attraction for Jeno began spiraling out of control. Pairing: NCT Lee Jeno x Reader Warnings: slow burn, mature themes, suggestive Notes: 23k words. I kept revising this like a madwoman my god. The song prompt for this part was Buzz by NIKI. Go check it out bcs it sums this whole thing up T^T Taglist: @yowmaman @tunafishyfishylike

[Part 1]

It was in the little moments that your feelings for Jeno began to deepen. As you grew closer, spending time together felt effortless. There was no need to rack your brain for excuses to talk to him or find ways to be in the same room. He was simply there, seamlessly becoming a constant presence in your daily life, especially with your friends.

You often found yourselves in the library, working on different tasks but always making time to chat. You discovered that he liked the library because it was quiet, and he could catch up on sleep without the staff telling him to leave.

“What about you, Most Diligent Reader of the Year?” he teased, flashing a mischievous grin.

“Third Most Diligent Reader of the Year,” you corrected with a hint of pride. “I like it here for the same reason. And also because there are more books here than in the NCIT library.”

“How many of these have you read?” he asked, glancing around at the seemingly endless shelves of books.

“Definitely not all of them,” you admitted with a shrug, glancing at the shelves. “I tend to pick up books that catch my eye, especially the ones with pretty covers. But honestly, not all pretty books turn out to be as interesting—or even readable,” you added with a light laugh.

“Like that one?” He pointed to the hardbound book before you, a thick volume with gilded designs that looked both old and attractive.

You smiled sheepishly as you ran your fingers over the embossed title, Code de la Nature by Étienne-Gabriel Morelly—a French book. “Yeah, like this one.”

“What’s your favorite book?” he asked suddenly, catching you off guard.

You smiled playfully, feeling a bit coy. “I’ll tell you when we're closer.”

Scoffing, Jeno leaned back in his chair, nodding as if resigned. “You always say that.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him your favorite book; it was just that you couldn’t pick one on the spot. Even now, as you mulled it over quietly, no single title came to mind that you could confidently claim as your favorite.

“No, seriously,” you said, chuckling softly. “I’ll tell you when we’re closer.”

“Oh, yeah? Okay,” Jeno replied, his tone mockingly flat. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he used his foot to push your chair slightly away from him. “We’re not close, so stay there.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his playful antics. As you did, a warm feeling settled in your chest—a mix of amusement and something deeper. You loved these moments, where teasing and joking felt so effortless. In these little exchanges, you found yourself appreciating Jeno more, realizing how much his playful side brought out the best in you.

After a few more rounds of banter, the two of you slipped into a comfortable silence. You immersed yourself in your book, while he scrolled through his phone. There was no need for words or even glances, but the knowledge that he was there filled you with a quiet sense of joy. Even as you lost yourself in the pages, your awareness of his presence never faded. It was satisfying like everything was in its right place. Like you were supposed to be there with him at that very moment.

As the familiar strain in your eyes set in, you closed the book and placed it gently on the table. Blinking up at the ceiling to relax your vision, you glanced over to Jeno’s side of the table. He was already asleep, his head leaning against the windowsill, arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing his AirPods, and you could faintly hear music from them.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you watched him. You could get used to this, you thought—a quiet wish forming in your heart for more moments like this. Just the two of you, together, even in silence.

“Enjoying the view?” a voice whispered from your right, making you jump in your seat and gasp softly.

You turned, startled, only to see Renjun watching you, his head propped on his elbow with a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“What the fuck, Renjun,” you whispered back, one hand over your rapidly beating heart as you tried not to wake Jeno.

It wasn’t a far stretch to think Jeno might already be aware that you like him because some of your friends are relentless when it comes to their teasing. While they respected your wishes of not having any of them wingmanning you, the exceptions and favors they would do for you were sometimes helpful. For example, the boys had made a habit of eating lunch together with everyone—Jeno included. But even that was filled with teasing from Haechan specifically.

“The babygirl has arrived!” Haechan announced as you were walking towards them at the food court, his voice loud enough to catch the attention of the entire table. You narrowed your eyes at him, annoyed by his provocation, but then you saw Jeno there and your gaze softened in recognition. He smiled at you, which you shyly returned as you approached.

“Let’s see. Where would she sit today?” Haechan asked teasingly, batting his eyelashes.

Across him, Jaemin was gleaming with mischief. “Next to me, maybe?”

You scoffed just as Kayla was leaning in to say, “Or maybe she’ll just sit next to me and break your heart.”

“As if,” Renjun interjected. “Your heart would break first from the disappointment.”

Jaemin, not one to miss an opportunity, leaned across the table with a dramatic sigh. “You know, it’s so hard being this good-looking. I’d understand if you really wanted to sit next to me. It’s alright.”

You snorted, shoving Jaemin playfully. “In your dreams, Jaemin. And seriously, stop with the flirting—it’s getting old.”

Renjun smirked, catching Jeno’s eye. “There’s space next to Jeno. Why doesn’t she just decide for herself?”

“Yeah, let’s see who she picks,” Jaemin chimed in, leaning in closer with a playful grin. “Come on, pick me, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Mark appeared beside you, having just returned with a drink, and patted your back before sliding next to Jaemin. “Not while I’m sitting here.”

Jeno, unfazed as usual, pulled out the chair next to him and patted it. “Well, then,” he said, looking at you with a playful grin. “Looks like this seat is yours.”

Despite your best efforts to hide it, you felt your cheeks heat up as you took the offered seat, trying to ignore the knowing looks from the rest of the group. As you settled into the chair, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement. Being close to Jeno like this felt so natural, yet it always left you a little flustered. The warmth of his presence next to you made your heart race in a way you were starting to crave.

Even amidst the chatter and teasing, you found yourself hyper-aware of the subtle brush of his arm against yours, the way his smile lingered as he glanced your way. You wondered if he noticed how your breath hitched slightly when he leaned in just a bit closer to say something to Renjun.

Sienna, who had been quietly watching the exchange with an amused smile, finally chimed in. “You guys really have too much energy at lunchtime,” she remarked, shaking her head. “Can’t we just eat like normal people?”

“Normal people?” Jaemin echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You’re sitting with us. Normal isn’t really on the menu.”

“Well, it is if you’re ordering the salad,” Haechan quipped, pointing at the plate in front of you. “What’s with the rabbit food anyway? Trying to impress someone?”

“It’s called being healthy, Haechan,” you replied with mock seriousness. “You should try it sometime. Your future self will thank you.”

“Oh, I’m plenty healthy,” Haechan shot back, grabbing a fry from Renjun’s plate. “Healthy enough to eat whatever I want and still look this good.”

“Mmhm, shame that doesn’t help with the bad personality,” Renjun muttered, earning a snort from Jaemin and Kayla. Mark was straight up hollering in laughter.

“You wound me, Renjun,” Haechan said, clutching his chest dramatically. “But I’ll recover because I know you’re just jealous of my charm.”

“Charm?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Haechan smirked at you. “Can I punch you in the face? Just this once?”

“Come here and try then!” you challenged, lifting your chin proudly.

“Yes, yes,” Sienna joined in. “Let’s punch each other in the face like kids. For now, can we eat in peace?”

The conversation shifted to weekend plans and upcoming exams, but every now and then, Haechan would throw in a comment that made you want to either disappear or throw your drink at him. Renjun joined in, his sarcastic remarks often aimed at both you and Jeno, while Jaemin continued his exaggerated flirting, much to your amusement. But through it all, Jeno remained cool and composed, either playing along with the banter or deflecting it with his quick-witted remarks.

After lunch, as everyone began to disperse, you casually stood next to Jeno, knowing you’d be heading to the same class.

“Heading to class?” he asked, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, you?” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He nodded. “Should we go together?”

You shrugged, channeling an aloof attitude to hide the crazy pounding in your chest. “Okay.”

The walk was filled with light conversation—classes, weekend plans, and a bit of banter. Unlike when you were with the group, the conversation with Jeno felt more subdued, and comfortable in the quiet moments that hung between your words.

As you reached the building where your class was, a sudden realization hit you, stopping you in your tracks. Horror washed over your face as you remembered that today was the day you were getting the results for the woodworking project. “What happens if we fail that project?”

“Fail it?” he questioned, slightly caught off guard by the shift in your tone. “I don’t think we will. I mean…” he trailed off, seemingly considering the possibility. “We did good, didn’t we?”

Your question lingered, feeding your anxiety. “Yeah but… what if?”

He shrugged, an uncertain smile tugging at his lips. Then, with a reassuring touch, he went to stand behind you, placing firm hands on your shoulders as he gently pushed you inside the classroom. “Let’s go inside and find out.”

As you felt his hands on your shoulders, a warm comfort spread through you, easing the knots of worry in your stomach. His quiet confidence was contagious, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to believe that everything would turn out okay.

Lunchtime since then had become a cherished opportunity to be near Jeno. Every time he entered the cafeteria, your heart would skip a beat. Some days, even when the boys weren’t around, he would join your table, casually sliding into the seat beside you.

“Mind if I sit here?” he’d ask, already halfway settled in.

“Not at all,” you’d reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest, as you scooted over to give him space.

His presence was electrifying. You found yourself hanging onto his every word, laughing at his jokes, and savoring the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Each sighting, each interaction, sent a rush of warmth through you, your heart skipping at the thought of being close to him.

One day, he walked over with that familiar smile. “Hey, you doing anything after school?”

You shook your head, striving to appear casual. “Not really. Why?”

“There’s this new coffee shop that opened up nearby. Wanna check it out?”

Your heart leaped. Was this it? Was he asking you out on a date? The thought sent a thrill through you, and you had to force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Sure, sounds fun.”

As the two of you walked to the coffee shop after school, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a date. Maybe not. If it was, shouldn’t he have said so? Then again, what if he was too shy to ask directly? The idea made your heart race, each step filled with anticipation. You imagined sitting across from him, just the two of you, talking and laughing over coffee. The thought of it being something more than just another hangout with a friend was enough to make you giddy.

However, as soon as you arrived at the cafe, the giddy smile on your lips was replaced by a deep scowl. Inside, your friends were already there, gathered around a large table, waving you over with bright smiles.

“Hey, you made it!” Sienna called out.

Jeno smiled and waved back, completely unfazed. You, on the other hand, tried to mask your disappointment as you followed him to the table. The cozy, intimate moment you had envisioned was quickly replaced by the familiar noise and energy of your group.

“I have brought her,” Jeno announced with a grin.

You glared at him, pretending to be annoyed. “What’s this? Were you conspiring with them?”

Jeno shrugged. “They told me to come here and asked that I bring you along.”

“Yeah, it’s a conspiracy,” you said, rolling your eyes as you took the vacant chair next to Kayla.

“Don’t be mad at him,” Kayla chided softly. “You didn’t check the group chat, so we thought we should just ask Jeno to bring you since he’s coming too.”

“Just so you know, I didn’t read the GC on purpose,” you quipped, still pouting.

“Jesus Christ, lady,” Renjun exclaimed from across the table, rolling his eyes. “You’re too obvious. It’s actually embarrassing.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. Despite your initial disappointment, you found yourself enjoying the time with your friends at the café. It was fun, even when they casually dropped inside jokes about your crush—who was sitting right there. Thankfully, Jeno seemed completely oblivious. Or if he wasn’t, he didn’t show it.

“You’re coming to my birthday party next week, right?” Kayla asked, making you chuckle. She had asked the same question over a dozen times in the last few days.

“Yes, K. I am,” you groaned, linking your arm with hers as you walked back to NCIT.

“Good. Don’t forget.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jaemin chimed in.

Ahead of you, Jeno was walking with Mark, Yangyang, and Renjun. Kayla tugged on Jeno’s backpack, making him glance over his shoulder at you.

“You’re coming too, right?” she asked.

“Of course. I’ll even buy you a gift,” he replied with a smile that made your heart flutter. “What do you want?”

It amazed you how quickly he had become close with your friends. Granted, he was already tight with the boys, but with Sienna and Kayla, Jeno seemed to have captured their fondness too. At this point, it was safe to say that he had become a permanent part of your friend group.

Your group dispersed as you entered the campus. Jeno walked to the Sci-Tech building with Mark, and Renjun. Sienna, Haechan, and Yangyang went their own way too, leaving you, Kayla, and Jaemin trailing slightly behind.

“So,” Kayla began, giving you a sly look. “Are you finally going to tell him?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you shot her a warning glance. “Tell who what?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” she replied, nudging you. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Before you could respond, Jaemin slid up beside you with that signature grin. “Ah, the confession of the century. I’ve been waiting for this day.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to laugh it off. “You’re both ridiculous. It’s not like that.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure it’s not. That’s why you can barely look at him without blushing. You usually have that heart-eyes emoji thing going on when he’s around.”

Your eyes widened in mock indignation. “I do not! I’m not that obvious.

“Don’t be shy,” Jaemin continued, his tone playful. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to make me jealous. But I can’t blame you—I mean, have you seen me?” He wiggled his eyebrows, leaning closer with a flirtatious smile.

“Jaemin, drop it,” you muttered, though your voice lacked conviction.

But he was relentless, leaning in closer with a teasing smirk. “Admit it, you’ve got it bad for our dear Jeno.”

You sighed, unable to deny it any longer. “Fine, maybe I do. But it’s not like I can just tell him.”

Kayla gave you a sympathetic smile. “You never know. He might feel the same way.”

You hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “It’s not that easy, you know? What if he doesn’t? What will happen to my pride?”

Jaemin softened, though the teasing glint in his eye remained. “Well, if that’s the case, you still have me. I’d happily take you on a date. We’d have fun, I promise.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, pushing him away playfully. “In your dreams, Jaemin. You’d only drive me crazy.”

“Well, it depends. I could drive you crazy in love,” he shot back with a wink. “Or crazy good. You decide.”

You rolled your eyes again, though a smile tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Only for you,” he replied smoothly, before softening his tone. “But seriously, you should just tell Jeno. Who knows? He might be into girls who adore him.”

“Shouldn’t you know that? He’s your friend from before,” Kayla asked.

“Sorry to disappoint you but I don’t pay attention to every little thing about him,” Jaemin replied. “It’s not like I was obsessed with him like someone.”

You exhaled sharply and started hitting his shoulder several times. “I am not obsessed with him! You dumb idiot!”

Jaemin ran away laughing and you chased after him. Kayla could only sigh and shake her head, watching the two of you run down the lengthy hallway of the Social Sciences building.

“I hope a professor catches them and gives them a good beating,” she murmured, chuckling darkly as she walked into her classroom.

Kayla’s house was a sprawling mansion with elegant decor and a large backyard. Although you’d known Kayla to have come from wealth, the grandeur of the house never failed to catch you off guard each time you came over.

As you entered the halls, you were greeted by a rowdy crowd—upbeat music, chatter, and laughter blending together noisily. The living room was transformed into a dance floor, with pulsating lights and a DJ set up in one corner. Nearby, a table was laden with an array of snacks and drinks, and the smell of pizza and nachos mingled with the sweet scent of fruit punch and the sharper tang of alcohol. The air smelled of vape, perfumes, and alcohol, much like every other party you’d been to, except that this was a little more posh.

You came with Haechan and Sienna who disappeared into the crowd as soon as you got inside. You were only alone for a minute before someone dragged you into their circle. You joined a group playing air hockey and did shots with another group, wandering through the crowd, and soaking in the festive vibe. Despite the fun, a lingering thought occupied your mind—you hadn't seen Jeno yet.

Just when you were beginning to wonder if he didn’t show up, your eyes caught sight of Jeno. He was in one corner of the hall with some friends, engrossed in an intense video game match.

You took a moment to observe him, feeling a flutter of excitement every time he threw his head back in laughter or shouted in triumph. The way he interacted with his friends—lively, charismatic, and completely at ease—made him seem even more appealing to you. You watched the scene unfold with a sense of detached admiration, the sounds of the party fading into a soft hum as you focused on him.

After a while, Jeno finally noticed you standing by the side of the room. His expression lit up with a genuine smile as he excused himself from his friends and made his way over to you.

“Hi there,” he said, his voice friendly and warm. “They said you were here but I didn’t see much of you all night.”

You returned his smile, trying to stay composed despite the flutter in your chest. “Well, have you taken your eyes off the video game at all tonight?”

That made Jeno chuckle heartily. “I haven’t. That’s probably why, right?” he asked, casually leaning his shoulder against the wall beside you.

You shrugged, taking a sip from your cup and not meeting his gaze while he stared you down. “I’d be dead focused on the game too if I keep losing like you and Yangyang did.”

“Hey,” he chimed, laughing his indignation away. “I have won a few times.”

You hummed. “Not as much as you’ve lost.”

Jeno sighed, hanging his head low as he chuckled. When he glanced back at you, there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Fine, I’m not good at it. It’s not gonna make you like me less, is it?”

You froze, surprised by his question. Obviously, it wasn’t going to make you like him less. If anything, it made him more endearing. But why was he asking? Does he care about what you think of him?

Before you could respond, Yangyang called out to Jeno, and with a quick, apologetic glance, he said, “I gotta get back to the game. Catch you later?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips as he rejoined his group. The excitement of the party continued around you, but your thoughts lingered on Jeno, his brief interaction with you, and the way he effortlessly made you feel special even in the middle of a crowded, lively party.

At 1 am, the party showed no sign of slowing down. Music blared, people danced wildly, and drinks flowed freely. Since Jeno’s brief greeting, you hadn't been able to speak with him. He was always surrounded by friends or caught up in the excitement of the party. Yet you couldn’t blame it on his popularity because even you were in the same situation. You found yourself moving through the crowd, getting dragged from circle to circle, and catching up with a lot of different people. You hardly saw Jeno, you couldn’t even get hold of your close friends.

“Fuck this,” you said, exhaling sharply and heading for the door. Before you could leave the hall, however, you heard someone shout, followed by some scuffling sounds.

In another part of the room, two boys were arguing heatedly, their voices growing louder and more aggressive. You recognized them, some studs that you never hung out with. The tension in the air was heavy, drawing the attention of several people.

“Calm down, man,” one of them said, trying to defuse the situation. “It’s not worth it.”

The other boy wasn’t having any of it. “Stay out of this,” he snapped, shoving him away.

“Who do you think you are?” the first boy shot back, pushing him hard. The crowd around them began to murmur, sensing the situation escalating. Soon people from other parts of the house rushed to see what was happening.

Jeno, who was standing nearby, noticed the growing tension and stepped in to mediate. “Hey, guys, let’s take it easy,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We’re all here to have a good time.”

The angrier boy turned on Jeno, his eyes flashing with irritation. “This has nothing to do with you, Lee. Back off!”

Jeno stood his ground, approaching the boy and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Come on, man, it’s not worth it. Why don’t we call it a night? You can talk again when you’re sober.”

But the aggression had reached a boiling point. One of the boys, blinded by rage, swung his fist at the other. Jeno, caught in the crossfire, took the brunt of the punch. He staggered back, colliding with you.

A chorus of shocked exclamations rose from the crowd as you caught Jeno, your heart pounding with concern. “Jeno, are you okay?” you asked, your voice trembling as you tried to steady him.

Jeno winced, holding his cheek. He even managed a chuckle. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, though his expression showed he was in pain.

The fight behind you turned into an all-out brawl. The boys were grappling, fists flying, and the crowd around them was either trying to break it up or egging them on. Someone knocked over a table, sending drinks and snacks crashing to the floor. The noise level was deafening, with shouts, screams, and the thud of punches filling the air.

“Stop it! You’re gonna get hurt!” a girl screamed, but her voice was lost in the chaos.

The room was a blur of movement and noise. Then, the distant but unmistakable sound of police sirens cut through the chaos, sending a ripple of panic through the crowd.

“It’s the cops!” someone yelled.

The party descended into mayhem as people scrambled to leave, darting out of the house and into the night. You and Jeno managed to slip out before the police arrived, finding a quiet spot away from the chaos. Kayla saw you and ushered you up the stairs. Jeno took your hand, guiding you upstairs and slipping into an open bedroom door. Inside, you found Mark and passed out on the bed.

“Good God,” you muttered, walking towards the bed only to be pulled back by Jeno. You glanced at your joined hands, and suddenly, the adrenaline from the chaos was replaced by butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach.

“Who’s that?” he asked, peeking at the figure on the bed.

“It’s just Mark,” you told him and he nodded in realization, letting go of your hand upon realizing it was safe to be there.

“Sorry,” he said, looking around. The bedroom was dimly lit—a stark contrast to the bright downstairs. The faint smell of spilled drinks lingered in the air, and the sound of distant voices and sirens could still be heard.

“Thanks for helping me back there, by the way,” he added, his voice softer now.

“Anytime,” you said coolly, giving him a reassuring smile. “Well, it wasn’t intentional, honestly. You got thrown in my direction so, yeah. But you’re welcome.”

Jeno laughed, despite the situation. “Are you saying you wouldn’t have helped if I wasn’t thrown in your direction?” he asked, purposely quoting your words.

“No! Of course, I’d help you!” you replied briskly, shaking your hand. You felt your face heat up as you quickly corrected yourself, hoping he didn’t notice your flustered state. “I would help even if you weren’t thrown in my direction. That is if your other friends don’t get to you fast enough.”

“Is that so?” he chuckled. “Alright. It’s good to know you’ve got my back.”

“Like I said. Anytime.”

As you stood there, the remnants of the party fading into the background, you wondered if you should thank the boy who punched Jeno towards you, the person who called 911, or Kayla herself. After all, the unexpected turn of events had brought you a little closer to Jeno.

“You looked really cool, though,” you chimed, trying not to laugh. “Trying to break the fight and all.”

Jeno chuckled heartily. “Until I got punched in the face.”

“Until you got punched in the face, yes,” you echoed, laughing at his expense. “Props to you for trying.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling as he sank on the bed next to Mark.

Jeno patted the space next to him, and you hesitated for only a moment before sitting down. The bed dipped under your weight, and you both shared a quiet laugh as Mark stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

Lowering your voices to a near whisper, you and Jeno began to talk, careful not to disturb the sleeping Mark, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world outside had faded, leaving only the comforting sound of Jeno’s voice and the warmth of his presence beside you.

The cool air outside was refreshing, a welcome change from the stifling atmosphere inside Kayla’s house. You and Jeno walked side by side down the quiet sidewalk, bundled in jackets, hands tucked into your pockets against the cold. Kayla had initially planned for you and the girls to stay the night, but after catching sight of you with Jeno, she quickly changed her mind.

“You don’t want to miss your classes tomorrow,” she said with a knowing smile. You knew she was trying to get you some alone time with Jeno and her plan seemed to work when Jeno offered to walk you home.

As you walked, the conversation flowed naturally, starting with light-hearted banter about classes and mean teachers. Jeno’s laughter echoed softly in the stillness of the night, and you found yourself smiling more than you had in days. Eventually, your conversation transitioned from school to your childhood. You exchanged stories, and Jeno shared funny anecdotes about his younger self.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I got stuck in a tree?” Jeno asked, his eyes crinkling at the memory.

“Is this one of those stories where you climbed a tree thinking it’d be cool, only to realize later that you had no idea how to get down?”

Jeno chuckled heartily, eyes fixed on the path ahead.“Classic, isn’t it? I think every kid has done that at least once.”

“Not me,” you teased, imagining a younger Jeno, wide-eyed with wild energy. “So, how did you get down?”

“My mom had to call the fire department,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “They brought out this huge ladder, and the whole neighborhood came to watch. I was mortified.”

The image of a little Jeno being rescued from a tree was too much; you burst into laughter, the sound ringing out in the quiet night. Jeno laughed along with you, his shoulder gently bumping against yours as you walked.

“Also, I once got my head stuck in a banister at my grandparents’ house,” he added, laughing at the memory. “My dad had to cut them just to get me out.”

“The banisters, right?” you questioned, feigning concern. “You mean your dad cut the banisters, not your neck.”

Jeno burst out laughing, throwing his head back. “I don’t know why I’m laughing. It’s not even that funny.”

“Oh, it’s because your happiness is me,” you quipped, making Jeno laugh again. You chuckled, imagining a young Jeno stuck in such a predicament. “But seriously, your grandparents must have been furious.”

Jeno shook his head as he recovered from laughing. “Nah, they adored me. We just laugh about it now.”

You hummed, reminded of your own childhood misadventures. “Well, I once tried to build a treehouse all by myself. I was eleven.”

“Really?” he asked, amused. “How badly did you hurt yourself?”

You scoffed indignantly. “What made you think I hurt myself at all?”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen you with wood and tools. You could not build a treehouse with your skills. Not now, and certainly not when you were eleven.”

“You underestimate me too much,” you pouted and rolled your eyes, pretending to be offended. “The treehouse was actually nice. It just wasn’t sturdy enough to hold my weight, so I fell off the tree… With the whole house.”

“Ouch,” he winced playfully. “Did you get hurt?”

“Just a few scratches and a bruised ego,” you admitted with a smile. “I learned that some things are better done with help.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Exactly. It’s like our woodworking project. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Honestly, I think I would have done worse without you.”

Jeno’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Well, you were the brains behind it. I was just there to follow your lead.”

“And by following my lead, you mean, doing all the work while I watch?” you retorted, making him laugh.

“Let’s put it this way; you’re the designer, I’m the manufacturer. Credit is 50/50. We both did a good job.”

You nodded, satisfied. “Alright. I’ll take it.”

The night seemed to stretch on, the walk home feeling both too short and wonderfully endless. With each passing minute, you found yourself enjoying his company more, appreciating the little things that made him so endearing. As you approached your apartment complex, the conversation began to wind down. Jeno lingered, his gaze holding yours as if reluctant to say goodnight. There was a softness in his eyes, a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine despite the cold.

“Thanks for walking me here,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. “But are you gonna walk to your dorm alone?”

“No. It’s too far from here,” Jeno grinned and pulled out his phone. “I’ll call an Uber.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “We should have done that earlier! We walked like half a mile from Kayla’s!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replied with a mischievous glint in his eye. You both shared a warm laugh, and as he called for his ride, you a sense of contentment settled within you.

You lay awake on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying your conversations with Jeno. Every interaction danced through your mind, each word and gesture examined, searching for hints that there might be something more between you. It baffled you how much you liked him, how your affection seemed to grow with each passing day. The more you saw him, the longer you talked, the deeper you fell.

Jeno had been nothing but nice to you—sweet, even, and thoughtful too. Was it a far stretch to assume he might feel something for you as well? Was it too soon to think there was any meaning behind his actions? Probably. Being caring seemed to be second nature to Jeno. He likely treated everyone the same way. Unless he explicitly said so or gave away his feelings through some unmistakable gesture, you knew better than to jump to conclusions and risk ruining what you had.

But what if he did harbor feelings for you?

You turned onto your side, clutching the edge of the pillow. The idea of Jeno being here beside you filled your mind. His presence would warm the room, his voice would soothe your thoughts, and you could share your dreams with him. The thought of his touch, his laughter, and his genuine smile became a comforting fantasy you yearned to make real.

“So? How far did you two go last night?” Kayla asked the next day, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. You were at her house because she’d invited you to hang out with Sienna and Olive after class.

“Who?” Sienna questioned, scooting closer to you on the couch.

“Jeno walked her home last night,” Olive chimed in.

Sienna’s jaw dropped before she started squealing and playfully hitting your shoulder. Kayla was grinning from ear to ear, and you could already imagine the teasing you were about to endure.

“Tell us! Tell us! Tell. Us!”

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to suppress your giddiness. “We went as far as our feet could take us, which was our apartment. Then he called for an Uber and left.”

Olive scoffed, chuckling as if you had just told her a joke. “Funny. Now tell us what really happened?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “I hate to break it to you, girls, but that’s all that happened.”

Kayla’s brows furrowed in confusion. “That’s it? Y’all finally had some alone time and that was it?”

You shrugged again while Olive tutted at you. “Girl, you need to up your flirting game.”

“I don’t know,” you said, biting your lip. “I’m scared. He seems interested, but sometimes it feels like he was genuinely just being friendly.

Olive crossed her arms. “If Jeno wasn’t interested in you even a little, why would he walk you home? Half a mile, in the opposite direction to his dorm?”

You paused, considering Olive’s point. “Maybe he was just being nice?”

Kayla shook her head. “Nice, sure. But walking a girl home after a party? That’s more than just being nice. The boy was trying to earn himself some good points.”

Sienna leaned in, her voice softer. “You should show him that you care for him more than just a friend. Be more forward. Let him see that you’re interested.”

“How do I even do that?” you asked, sighing in frustration. “Actually, I’m not sure I want to do that at all. I don’t know.”

Sienna’s smile was sweet, her eyes gleaming with fond affection toward you. “You know what? You’re right. Don’t,” she said, slumping next to you on the couch, squishing you between her and Kayla.

“Just be yourself. If he likes you, he’ll come to you. Don’t be afraid to flirt a little. Compliment him, laugh at his jokes if they’re funny. Maybe show interest in him from time to time,” Olive added.

“O, she’s interested in him all the time,” Kayla teased, leaning her head on your shoulder.

Olive nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I forgot about that bit.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of determination. “Alright, I got it. Be myself. Awkward and shy around him.”

Kayla pouted beside you. “You’re not awkward and shy. You’re fun, smart, and adorable. I’m sure Jeno knows that by now.”

Olive clapped her hands together. “And if he doesn’t see that, well, I have an array of boys better than Jeno. I’ll introduce you to all of them if I have to.”

“As if she’d waste a breath on anyone that’s not Jeno Lee,” Sienna scoffed.

“Fair point.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You guys are really something else.”

Kayla grinned. “What can we say? We live vicariously through you. The whole cutesy, romcom-ish, borderline obsessive admiration for a crush thing isn’t something we would experience. Given our personalities.”

“Right.” Olive nodded enthusiastically. “So we expect regular updates!”

You found it harder to keep your feelings at bay. Every interaction with Jeno seemed to push you further into the realm of deep affection. You’d catch yourself daydreaming about him during class, your mind wandering to the idea of what could be if only you were brave enough to make a move.

The realization that you were falling for him was both exhilarating and terrifying. The thought of his hand brushing against yours, his laughter filling your days, became a bittersweet longing that colored your every thought. And every day, you felt as though you were losing your mind. Every night, you pined and whined, hoping and dreaming that he was lying there with you instead of wherever he might be spending his night.

One time, he fell asleep in class, his head resting on his arms. The soft rise and fall of his breathing was almost hypnotic. You knew you should wake him up, but he looked so peaceful and, honestly, too cute to disturb.

You sat there, just watching him for a few moments, your eyes tracing the curve of his lashes and that adorable mole under his eye. It was one of those small details you found yourself enchanted by each time you saw him up close.

Your hand moved instinctively, fingers itching to touch the tiny mark. Just as you were about to give in to the temptation, your heart pounded with the realization of how close you were. What would it mean if you crossed that line? You hesitated, your fingers hovering, before deviating to poke his shoulder instead.

Your touch made his eyes flutter open. He blinked a few times, confused, then smiled sleepily at you. “Please tell me I didn’t sleep through the whole class,” he mumbled, his voice soft and groggy.

You smiled back, your heart racing as you shook your head. “Not on my watch.”

Jeno slowly sat up, groaning quietly as he stretched his limbs under the table. “Thanks.”

You responded with a smile, trying to focus on the lecture. Mr. Harris was talking about cabinetry, introducing the basics and whatnot. Last week, he had announced the results of the woodworking project. Everyone got full marks for accomplishing the tasks, but only those with high votes got special awards. You and Jeno came third, which was slightly disappointing but still impressive.

In your peripheral vision, you could see Jeno’s hand sliding a small paper bag towards you. Before you could react, you felt his warm presence on your side and caught a whiff of his perfume before you heard him whispering in your ear. “For you,” he said, his breath tickling your ear.

He moved away immediately, and you glanced sideways at him with a confused expression. He smiled, leaning back in his chair as he nodded toward the paper bag. Curiosity piqued, you opened the bag to find a beautifully crafted cylindrical wooden pen holder. It was simple and minimalistic but the amount of time and attention put into making it was evident in the clean edges and beautiful varnishing.

“What’s this for?” you asked stupidly, heart swelling with emotions.

“For your many many pens at home,” he said, scooting closer to you and propping his elbows on the table.

Your fingers traced the smooth surface of the object, marveling at the craftsmanship. “Did you make this?” you asked, your voice tinged with awe.

Jeno nodded, a shy smile playing on his lips. “We had some scrap wood from the last project and I thought throwing them away would be a waste of good material.”

Your heart melted at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Jeno. It’s perfect. I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You said thank you,” he chimed. “It’s enough. You’re welcome.”

As the day wore on, your mind kept drifting back to the pen holder and Jeno's thoughtful gesture. You replayed the moment in your head, examining every detail, every word, every glance. Why did he do it? What was it for? Was it a sign that Jeno liked you back? Or was it simply a kind act from a friend?

The next day at lunch, you placed the paper bag on the table for Sienna and Kayla to see. The two of them gawked at it for a few seconds before shooting curious gazes at you. Sighing, you opened it to reveal the pen holder from Jeno.

“Jeno gave it to me. For my pens,” you told them, clenching your fists in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

“Aw,” Kayla lilted, taking it in her hands to examine it. “He knows about your pen obsession?”

“I mentioned it in passing,” you replied, biting your lower lip. “Once.”

“Did he make this?” asked Sienna and you nodded in response. “No way?”

“Yes, he did,” you sang. “Or so he says.”

“You don’t look happy about it though,” Kayla asked, inspecting your expression.

Groaning, you gently hit your forehead on the table and looked back up at your friends helplessly. “That’s the thing. I am happy about it. Too happy, even. I feel like, like… like I’m floating and falling at the same time. My heart is full but it also hurts in a weird not painful kind of way. I can’t explain it!”

“Slow down,” Sienna goaded, patting your shoulder. “Take it slow. Tell us what happened in detail.”

You took a deep breath and chugged the glass of water in front of you before answering. “We were in class and he was asleep so I woke him up. And then out of nowhere, he gave me this bag and said it was for me.”

“Did he carry this around all day?” Kayla questioned.

“Does it matter?” you asked back.

Sienna heaved a sigh. “It does! You were already in class. He even fell asleep in there. But he waited until later to give it to you? Why didn’t he give it to you as soon as you saw each other?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

“What else did he say?”

You shook your head. “Nothing, I… I thanked him and then that’s it. After class, we said goodbye.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Kayla. “This is a clear hint—no. It’s not just a hint. It’s an evidence. Jeno likes you.”

“Okay, let me stop you there,” you told her, raising a palm to her face. “I am already in that route which is why I am losing my mind right now.”

Kayla grinned, unfazed. “Fine, fine. But think about it, he made this for you. He spent time and effort on it. That has to mean something.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of your emotions. “I just don't want to get my hopes up. What if I'm reading too much into it?”

Kayla handed the pen holder back to you, a sympathetic smile on her face. “What if you’re not? What do you have to lose if you just… jump in?”

You shook your head, mouth gaping open out of sheer bafflement. “I don’t know. My mind?”

Sienna looked over your shoulder and then tapped your arm urgently. “Jeno. Jeno’s coming.”

“What?” you blurted, straightening up and tucking his ‘gift’ away. Before you could turn your head to take a look behind you, Jeno was already sliding onto the chair next to you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, but he was already setting his tray down. Kayla was quick to stop him, holding the edge of his tray.

“Actually, we do mind,” she grinned, batting her eyelashes playfully.

Jeno seemed confused, glancing at you and then back at Kayla. “Alright?”

“Yeah, we’re having a really important conversation about her love life,” Kayla added, motioning to you. You pointed a finger at yourself, gawking at Kayla cluelessly. “We are, aren’t we?”

Technically, she was right. You glanced at Jeno and scrunched your nose apologetically at him. “Yeah. We are.”

There was a flicker of annoyance on Jeno’s face, though you thought you’d imagined it. His hand hesitated as he lifted the tray, and he glanced at you again before resigning with a small sigh. “Alright then,” he said quietly, slinging his backpack back to his shoulder. “I won’t bother you.”

You nodded, waving as he walked away, but a part of you felt an uncomfortable twist in your chest. You turned to Kayla and glared at her.

“Why would you tell him that?” you asked, utterly bewildered.

Kayla had a smug smile on her face. “To see how he’d react,” she said, nodding toward Jeno’s direction.

You glanced back to where he was and found him looking at you. He looked away as soon as your gazes met, brows furrowing as he poked his food.

Your heart sank a little, uncertainty creeping in. What if you hurt his feelings?

Sienna sighed contently. “Was Jaemin right all along?”

“Yeah, he was right,” Kayla replied, nodding.

“Why? What do you mean?”

“My dearest, you clearly have a shot. I don’t know why you thought you didn’t.”

Having a crush is all fun and games until you realize you can’t live without them anymore. Well, obviously, that’s an exaggeration. Or is it? Nah, it is an exaggeration, right? “Right,” you mumbled to yourself, nodding absentmindedly. Then you felt a tug on your elbow.

“Are you okay?” asked Sienna, eyes wide and brows furrowed looking perplexed—and judgmental. You blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the overwhelming rush of emotions.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, offering a shaky smile.

Sienna’s eyes softened, and she gave you a playful nudge. “Cute. Let’s go. Yangyang’s outside.”

It wasn’t only Yangyang who was waiting outside. As you opened the door to the backseat of Yangyang’s car, you were greeted by Jeno’s blank gaze, which quickly transformed into a warm, genuine smile and a small wave. You smiled back and turned to Yangyang who grinned knowingly.

“Saw him walking alone on my way here so I picked him up and invited him to join us,” said Yangyang.

Jeno’s smile turned sheepish, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no! Not at all!” Sienna’s excitement was obvious as she enthusiastically pushed you into the seat next to Jeno. “It’s more fun with more people.”

You sat on the plush leather seats, and Jeno scooted away slightly to make room for you. The close proximity made your pulse quicken, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Sienna squeezed in next to you, her presence further pressing you toward Jeno. She gave you a sickly sweet smile that made you chuckle nervously, trying to ignore the way your heart raced.

“Got the goods?” Sienna asked Yangyang who nodded.

Yangyang’s eyes remained on the road as he reached into the front seat, retrieving a large paper bag and handing it to the back. “Yep. It’s all here.”

Sienna’s face lit up as she accepted the bag, her sweet smile unwavering. “Thanks, Yang, you’re a literal angel.”

You scoffed playfully, rolling your eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

“Of course, I don’t,” Sienna said, her tone light and teasing. She turned to Jeno with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Are you sure you want to join us today, Jeno?”

Jeno shrugged, his gaze flickering between Sienna and you. There was a brief moment of hesitation before he met your eyes, then quickly looked away. “Yeah. I mean, how bad can it be?”

“What, Spa Day? Not bad at all! If anything, it’s good for you,” Sienna reassured him, her enthusiasm infectious.

You nodded in agreement. “You’ll thank her later.”

Jeno’s smile widened slightly, and he shifted in his seat. “Okay. I trust you.”

With how closely you were sitting, you figured he might have been feeling uncomfortable, which was probably why he kept shifting in his seat and couldn’t meet your gaze. You turned to Sienna and discreetly tapped her knee, subtly urging her to scoot over. She obliged with a knowing smile, giving you just enough room to breathe.

As you adjusted your position, you felt Jeno relax beside you. His warmth and the faint scent of his cologne were oddly comforting, adding to the flutter of your nerves. You glanced over at him, trying to gauge his feelings, but he was focused on the view outside the window, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

The car rumbled to a stop, and you glanced out the window, noting the familiar building where Renjun, Haechan, and Yangyang lived. Yangyang parked the car, and you, Jeno, and Sienna climbed out, chatting excitedly as you approached the entrance. The anticipation of spending time with your friends and Jeno filled you with excitement, but as soon as you stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.

What welcomed you were Jaemin and Haechan, sprawled out on the floor in a haze of smoke. Jaemin, with his relaxed posture and half-lidded eyes, was lazily passing a joint to Haechan, who took a long drag before letting out a thick plume of smoke. Both of them looked completely out of it, their expressions a blend of contentment and mild confusion. The sight of them, seemingly floating in their own stoned world, was both amusing and surreal.

“You guys…” you muttered, shaking your head as you took in their stoned state. Sienna appeared beside you, her eyes widening in disbelief as she processed the scene.

Jaemin, squinting at you with a goofy grin, greeted you with a slurred voice. “Hey, hey! Look who’s here!”

Haechan giggled, his cheeks flushed as he stared at Sienna. “This shit’s good, man. I can see my girlfriend. She looks so real.”

Jaemin nodded slowly, barely able to keep his eyes open. “Dude, I think that’s your girlfriend.”

“I know. It’s crazy,” Haechan laughed. “You see her too?”

“Nah, man. I think they’re there for reals,” Jaemin said, shaking his head as if to clear the fog.

Yangyang, arriving late and catching sight of his friends on the floor, let out an amused laugh. “Woah, are you guys stoned?”

“Oh! It’s Yangyang!” Haechan grinned lazily, pointing at him.

Sienna released a dragged-out sigh, placing her hands on her hips. “Lee Donghyuck, I swear to God,” she said, her tone calm but carrying an edge that sent a shiver through everyone present.

You tapped Jeno and Yangyang urgently, motioning for them to move. Yangyang headed to the kitchen, while you and Jeno joined Renjun on the couch. The room smelled faintly of incense and the earthy scent of the joint, mixing with the warmth of the gathering.

“You’re here too, Jeno?” he asked, eyes on his book.

“Yeah. It sort of just happened,” Jeno replied, glancing around the room.

Renjun looked up from the couch, looking bored. “I hope you guys are prepared for some interesting conversations today. They’ve been like this for a while.”

Soon, Mark arrived, followed by Kayla and Olive. Jaemin and Haechan’s antics had derailed your plans for Spa Day, so you decided to just hang out instead. Kayla, Sienna, and Renjun were busy in the kitchen, preparing snacks and chatting animatedly, while Mark and Olive scrolled through Netflix, debating what to watch. You and Jeno settled onto the long couch, trying to ignore the increasingly rowdy scene in the far corner of the room, where Jaemin, Haechan, and now Yangyang were thoroughly engrossed in their stoned escapades.

“I knew it was Yangyang’s joint,” you said with a playful scoff, shaking your head. “I can’t believe we canceled Spa Day for this.”

Jeno leaned back on the couch, propping his arm casually over the backrest. “Yeah, I was looking forward to that too.”

“Well, it won’t take long before Mark joins them. You should go over there now while they haven’t finished Yangyang’s entire stash yet.”

Jeno shook his head. “No. I don’t smoke weed.”

You turned to him with a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow. Jeno chuckled at your expression. “You don’t believe me?”

You opened your mouth to respond but ended up just shrugging, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. Jeno’s playful pout, combined with his sheepish grin, made it hard not to laugh.

“I want to believe you, okay?” you told him, laughing softly. “It’s just… I don’t know. You were friends with Jaemin in high school so, I can imagine all the shenanigans.”

Jeno nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Fair point. We did get up to all sorts of things, but that was in high school. I’ve mellowed out a bit.”

“Taking life a little more seriously, huh?”

“Not too much, just dialing back the recklessness.”

In their corner of the room, the stoners were laughing at something you couldn’t hear. The haze of smoke seemed to waft over, making you scrunch up your nose. “Can’t say the same for your friends over there.”

“They’re your friends too, you know,” Jeno said with a teasing grin.

You grimaced playfully. “Unfortunately.” With a dramatic sigh, you stood up and beckoned Jeno to follow. “I’d kill for a milkshake right now. Come on.”

As you led Jeno towards the kitchen, his presence beside you felt like a refreshing change from the chaos; a comforting escape from the afternoon’s unexpected turn of events.

The smell of food filled the apartment as everyone settled into the living room, ready for a movie. The stoners, now mostly sober and recovering from their earlier high, had retreated to a quieter corner. Yangyang and Haechan were sprawled out, their heads resting on pillows as they drifted off to sleep.

Jaemin plopped down next to you on the couch, still a little dazed from all the earlier chaos, and leaned against you, his head resting on your shoulder. You didn’t mind; it was actually kind of nice. On your other side, Jeno shifted around, trying to make space for you and Jaemin.

Mark grabbed the remote and hit play on a superhero movie. You’d seen it before, but everyone had agreed on it anyway. No matter how different you all were, there was one thing you could count on—everyone loved superhero movies. Even Sienna, who used to roll her eyes at them, eventually got hooked.

You glanced over at Jeno, who was already lost in the movie, a genuine smile lighting up his face. He must've felt your gaze because he turned, catching your eye. Leaning closer, he whispered, “Didn’t peg you for a superhero fan.”

“You’d be surprised,” you whispered back, keeping your voice low so you wouldn’t disturb the others.

As the movie went on, you and Jeno kept up a quiet conversation, sharing whispers and soft laughs. He leaned in whenever he wanted to say something, his breath warm against your ear. Every time your hands brushed—whether by accident or not—it felt like a tiny spark between you.

Eventually, Renjun turned around, eyebrows raised. “You two need to keep it down. Some of us are actually trying to watch.”

You and Jeno exchanged sheepish grins, your faces turning red. Jeno leaned in closer, his voice just for you. “Sorry, we’ll be quieter.”

You giggled, which made Renjun roll his eyes again. “Seriously, guys. Just get a room already.”

Feeling a bit guilty, you made a big show of zipping your lips, trying not to laugh. Jaemin, who had been dozing against you, stirred and mumbled something you couldn’t make out. His weight was starting to make your arm ache, so you shifted a bit, moving his head onto your lap to get more comfortable.

Jeno noticed you rubbing your shoulder and, without a word, put his hand on your shoulder, his fingers warm as they started to massage away the tension.

“Thanks,” you whispered, feeling the warmth from his touch spread through you.

As the movie continued, Jeno casually draped his arm over the back of the couch, his hand brushing against your shoulder and gently tugging you a little closer. You tilted your head slightly, catching his gaze. His eyes held a soft, almost wistful expression, and you felt a flutter in your chest.

“Not bad, huh?” Jeno asked, nodding at the TV screen.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes locking with his.

In the midst of the action on screen, a quiet, intimate connection grew between you. The subtle moments of closeness—the accidental touches, the soft whispers, and the shared warmth—woven with the comforting presence of Jeno beside you, created a bridge that felt both thrilling and reassuring. The movie played on, but the real show was the unspoken bond growing stronger with each passing moment.

“How was it?” Kayla asked with a playful glint in her eyes, as you scrubbed dishes in the kitchen after the movie. The kitchen had become a gathering spot, with Olive and Sienna joining Kayla, all three wearing playful smirks that made you roll your eyes.

You tried to keep your expression neutral but unable to hide your grin. “How was what?” you replied, feigning ignorance.

Kayla pinched your arm, making you yelp in surprise. “Ouch! What the—”

Your exclamation caught the attention of the boys in the living room, their heads turning in your direction. Kayla just smiled at them as if nothing happened.

Kayla, undeterred, gestured for the boys to continue tidying up. “You guys better make sure the living room is spotless,” she called out, her tone playful.

Your eyes found Jeno’s—he was giving you a concerned gaze to which you responded with a shrug to tell him you were fine.

“I saw that!” Olive said in a hushed tone, leaning closer to you. “You and Jeno just now.”

“Yeah, what was that about?” Sienna chimed in, her eyes narrowing with a teasing smile. “So fishy.”

“It’s not fishy,” Kayla said with a smirk, joining the others at the dining table. “It’s sweet. Like, flower garden sweet. Like, totally romantic.”

Olive grinned. “More like ‘the guy I like now likes me back’ sweet.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, a blush spreading as you thought about those moments with Jeno. “Go away if you’re not going to help,” you shot back, trying to focus on the dishes and hide your embarrassment.

The girls laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction, but you could feel their warmth. Despite the teasing, it only added to the cozy, comforting vibe of the night.

You hung out until late, playing games, chatting, eating takeout, and laughing for the most part. There were quiet moments when you would just scroll through your phone lazily, while the others did their own thing. The cozy warmth of the apartment made it easy to lose track of time. Eventually, the clock nudged past midnight, and it was time to say goodbye.

As everyone began to gather their things, the apartment was filled with the quiet buzz of goodbyes and plans for the next hangout. You grabbed your bag and made your way to the door, where Jeno was waiting.

He gave you a small smile as you made your way to him. “Before you go, do you remember the name of that book you mentioned earlier?”

You blinked, trying to remember. When you realized you hadn’t said the title because you’d forgotten it, you scrunched your nose. “Uh, no, I don’t. But I have it at home. I’ll text you when I find out.”

He handed you his phone with a casual ease that belied the slight tension in the air. “Here, just put your number in. That way, you can tell me as soon as you find it.”

You took the phone, fingers brushing against his as you entered your number. After giving it back, he dialed your number and your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fished it out and saw his number flashing on your screen.

“There. Now you have my number too. Don’t forget to text me,” he said, his tone light, but there was a warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat.

The moment passed quickly, and soon everyone was heading out, their voices echoing down the hallway. You found yourself glancing back at Jeno one last time as you left, thinking about the quiet connection that had formed between you throughout the day.

As you walked home, the cool night air filled your lungs, and a small smile tugged at your lips. The day had been full of surprises and quiet moments that felt like the start of something new. You couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring, but for now, you held onto the memory of Jeno’s smile and the way his voice softened when he talked to you.

On a quiet Saturday morning, you paced back and forth in your bedroom, biting your thumb as you stared at your phone and the book lying on your bed. The early sun poured into your room, filtered through the sheer curtains. The muffled sound of Sienna’s morning playlist drifted in from the living room, mixing with the soft sound of your footsteps on the carpet.

You were debating whether to text Jeno, running through every possible scenario that might happen if you did, and most importantly, wondering what to say first. Should you start with a simple ‘hi’? Or would it be better to get straight to the point and tell him the book title he wanted to know? Was it too early to text him? Should you wait until later so you didn’t seem too eager? Would he even reply? And if he did, what would he say?

You stopped pacing, letting out a sharp breath, and placed your hands on your hips. For a moment, you stared at the phone and the book on your bed before picking them both up. Sitting down in the chair in front of your computer, you opened your contacts list with a look of determination.

“It’s just a text. No need to overthink it,” you told yourself, tapping on Jeno’s number to start a message.

You glanced at the title of the book as you typed out your text.

Hey Jeno, it’s me. The book title we were talking about is ‘The Long Walk’. Found it this morning.

Was it too casual? Too direct? You felt a flutter in your stomach as you reread the message for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was safe, not too much, just enough to start a conversation.

Your thumb hovered over the send button, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. It wasn’t just about sending the title; it was about breaking the silence, about seeing if the connection from yesterday would carry over into today.

Finally, you took a deep breath and hit send. There was no taking it back now. You stared at the screen, watching the message transition from ‘sending’ to ‘delivered.’ You squealed, tossing the phone on your bed and jumping around your bedroom.

A knock on the door made you freeze. “What’s going on in there?” Sienna’s voice called from the other side.

“Nothing!” you called back, trying to stifle your grin. “Just excited about something.”

Sienna chuckled, the sound of her footsteps retreating as she muttered something under her breath.

With the room quiet again, you focused on the phone. Seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. You tried to distract yourself with the book, but your eyes kept drifting back to the screen. Then, just as you were about to give up, the screen lit up with a notification, followed by a buzz. You dived into the bed, grabbing the phone as quickly as you could.

Jeno <3: Got it, thanks! Do you mind if I borrow it?

A grin spread across your face, your heart fluttering at the sight of his reply. It was just a simple message, but as the conversation continued with an easy flow, it felt like a small victory—a quiet confirmation that maybe, just maybe, there was something more here.

Days turned into weeks, and that simple conversation turned into the first of many. In carpentry class, you and Jeno often got paired up, sharing tools and ideas. He had this knack for making even the most boring tasks fun, with his light-hearted teasing that always left you smiling.

“Careful there,” he’d say with a grin, watching you handle a saw. “Wouldn’t want you to lose a finger. Not sure how good you’d be at texting without one.”

You’d roll your eyes, but the warmth in his voice made it clear he was just looking out for you.

In the library, your study sessions often turned into comfortable silences, broken only by the occasional whispered joke or shared look when something funny popped into your head. Jeno had this way of making even the silence feel full, as if words weren’t always needed between you two.

One afternoon, while out for a coffee run, Jeno surprised you by handing you a snack you’d mentioned liking weeks ago. “Thought you might want this,” he said casually, but the gesture was anything but. It was little things like that that made you realize how thoughtful he could be—how he noticed the small details you barely remembered mentioning.

At group hangouts, Jeno always seemed to end up next to you. Whether it was sitting beside you on the couch, standing close at a party, or even asking someone to scoot over so he could be nearer, he found subtle ways to be close.

“Can I sit here?” he’d ask with a grin, even though he already knew your answer.

And then there were the compliments—thoughtful, personal, and always catching you off guard. “I don’t know if you realize, but you’re so easy to hang out with. Easy to talk to, easy to get along with… You’re just awesome,” he once said during a late-night phone call. His words weren’t just empty flattery; they felt real, like he saw something in you that others didn’t.

Every interaction, every shared moment, only made your connection deeper. Jeno’s focus on you during conversations, his attention to detail, and the way he remembered the little things—all of it hinted at feelings that were growing stronger day by day.

“I should just kick them out,” Renjun sighed, taking a long sip of his coffee.

You and your friends were hanging out at a cozy café known for its laid-back vibe and amazing hot chocolate. With Kayla, Mark, Renjun, and Jeno, you’d squeezed into a large booth. Renjun had been complaining about his roommates again, and while you and Kayla were all for him kicking his flatmates out, Mark was trying to talk him down. Eventually, the conversation drifted from Renjun’s woes to a new movie that had just come out.

As the conversation flowed, you found yourself getting into a lively debate about the movie. Jeno, sitting next to you, listened quietly, throwing in a thoughtful comment every now and then. Occasionally, your shoulders would brush, and you’d exchange quick, knowing glances.

Suddenly, someone plopped down beside you, making you and Kayla gasp. It was Hendery Wong, his usual charisma on full display as he tilted his head and grinned at you. “Deadpool & Wolverine, huh?” he said, his voice playful. “Pretty epic, wasn’t it?”

“Yo, Hendery Wong!” Mark exclaimed, jumping up to give Hendery a high-five. “Damn, dude, how have you been?”

“I’m fine. Still alive, fortunately,” Hendery said, his tone cool and nonchalant. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A while? Dude, it’s been a whole fucking year!” Mark replied, unable to hide his excitement. “When did you get back?”

“Today. A few hours ago,” Hendery answered.

Kayla tutted. “Clearly, being overseas didn’t wipe that smug look off your face.”

Hendery chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “Come on, K. You’re not still sore about losing that exchange program to me, are you?”

Kayla huffed, crossing her arms. “Not at all. I was never sore about it in the first place.”

Hendery’s attention shifted back to you, his arm casually resting on the backrest behind you. “And you, babygirl? How’s life treating you?”

You rolled your eyes, though you were secretly glad to see him. “Great. Life was a little better without you around. Now that you’re back,” you paused, wincing playfully, “I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Good,” Hendery replied with a teasing grin. “I missed you too.”

Jeno, who had been observing quietly, shifted in his seat, his expression hard to read. He cleared his throat but didn’t say anything, his gaze drifting out the window.

“Who’s your friend?” Hendery asked, turning his attention to Jeno.

Mark jumped in before you could reply. “Oh, right. This is Jeno. He’s sharing the flat with me and Jaemin. Jeno, this is Hendery Wong. He used to stay in your room. He was gone for an exchange program in France.”

Jeno gave a polite nod, his lips pressed together, while Hendery returned the nod. An odd tension hung in the air, coming from the intense gaze between Jeno and Hendery.

“Well, I should get going,” Hendery said, rising from his seat. He placed a hand on your shoulder, his thumb gently rubbing against your shoulder blade. “Catch you guys later? I thought I saw Renjun here, was I wrong?”

“He went to the restroom. Dude, we should all hang out soon,” Mark said, standing up to bump shoulders with Hendery.

“Absolutely. Just let me know,” Hendery said, patting your shoulder. You looked up at him with a smile, giving him a small wave as he nodded at you.

You watched as Hendery walked away, waiting until he left the café to resume the conversation. Beside you, Jeno’s posture had grown more rigid. His fingers tapped restlessly on the table, and he seemed unusually focused on the menu, avoiding eye contact.

“Is everything alright?” you asked softly, sensing the shift in his mood.

Jeno glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. Before you could press further, Renjun rejoined the table, and the conversation picked up again.

“You won’t believe who was just here,” Mark said, turning to Renjun as he sat down.

“Who?” Renjun asked, looking around.

“Hendery Wong,” Mark replied, unable to contain his excitement.

“No way! He’s back?” Renjun’s eyes widened in surprise.

As the chatter resumed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between you and Jeno. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—a quiet tension that lingered beneath the surface. For the rest of the afternoon, you found yourself stealing glances at Jeno, wondering if he felt it too.

Jeno first saw you during a basketball game between NCIT and another university. From his seat in the bleachers, he could hear your voice cutting through the clamor of the crowd. While most of the students were shouting cheers and encouragement, you stood out sharply with your enthusiastic and, frankly, unorthodox support.

You were positioned right at the edge of the bleachers, waving a homemade banner that read ‘GO MARK!’ in big, bold letters. But instead of the typical shouts of praise and excitement, your voice was a commanding presence of its own.

“Mark, focus! Don’t screw this up!” you yelled, your tone firm and assertive. There was an edge of urgency in your voice that set you apart from the usual crowd.

When Mark came close to the bleachers, you didn’t hold back. With an exaggerated, mock-serious expression, you shouted, “I swear to God, Mark Lee! If you don’t beat their asses, I will whoop yours!”

Mark just laughed in amusement as he nodded at you, and that seemed to annoy you. “Oh? Are you laughing? Don’t you laugh at me, I am dead serious!”

Your friends beside you chuckled, clearly used to your dramatic flair, but Jeno was intrigued. The contrast between your intense demeanor and the light-hearted atmosphere around you was striking. When you were simply sitting quietly as you watched the game, there was an air of elegance and grace about you. But that air was shattered the moment you stood up and opened your mouth.

As the game progressed, Jeno overheard you telling a friend that winning the game was crucial not just for school pride, but because you wanted to exact a small revenge on your ex, who had, apparently, done you wrong. “We have to win this game!” you declared. “I need to show that lying, cheating jerk that he’s a loser. This victory is for me!”

There was something undeniably compelling about your presence. Your energy was infectious, your passion unmistakable. Jeno found himself stealing glances your way, caught up in the way you seemed to own the moment, making the game as much about your personal victory as it was about the team’s. In that crowded, noisy gymnasium, amidst all the chaos and excitement, Jeno saw something special in you—a spark that he couldn’t quite ignore.

Jeno watched as the game reached its climax, with Mark and his team eventually emerging victorious. In the final moments of triumph, you leaped from your seat, joining the crowd rushing onto the court. Jeno saw you stare at someone from the other team, whom he could only assume was your ex after you gave him a dramatic, unapologetic middle finger.

Jeno knew you were friends with his roommates and that you shared a circle of mutual friends. While he found you intriguing, he’d never had any romantic interest in you. At the time, he was in a relationship, and though he occasionally caught glimpses of you during group gatherings or around campus, there wasn’t much real interaction. You always seemed wrapped up in intense debates with Haechan or animated conversations with your friends, and Jeno never thought much about it.

After a messy breakup, Jeno decided to go on a “healing” road trip with his cousins. The open road was supposed to be a distraction, a way to clear his head. On one of those long drives, they stumbled upon a quaint public library in a sleepy little town—a perfect pit stop for a break. As Jeno wandered through the quiet rows of books, taking in the musty, comforting smell of old paper, he spotted someone familiar.

There you were, perched precariously on a ladder, browsing the top shelves with a look of intense concentration. Seeing a familiar face in such an out-of-the-way place was a pleasant surprise, but Jeno didn’t think of approaching you. After all, the two of you didn’t really know each other. But as he watched, his curiosity piqued. You were tugging at a book, your brow furrowed in determination as you struggled to free it from the tight shelf. It was almost comical, and Jeno couldn’t help but smile.

As he debated whether to help, you suddenly lost your footing. Jeno’s reflexes kicked in, and he darted forward, catching you just as you slipped off the ladder. For a second, you were in his arms, eyes wide with surprise. Your cheeks flushed as you steadied yourself, looking up at him with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude.

The two of you stood there for a moment, neither sure what to say. There was something endearing about your flustered reaction, and Jeno found himself smiling, feeling an unexpected warmth. He handed you the book you’d been reaching for, and you accepted it with a grateful smile and uttered your thanks again.

As Jeno walked out of the library, he couldn’t help but glance back, catching one last look at you. The encounter was brief, but something about it stuck with him. For the rest of the road trip, he found his thoughts drifting back to the way your eyes had widened in surprise, the way your lips had curved into a smile. And as Jeno climbed back into the car with his cousins, he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

On the first day back at university, Jeno noticed you immediately. You were surrounded by your friends, engaging in lively chatter and playful bickering. Mark spotted him and waved him over, but Jeno had to decline, as he was on his way to class.

Later, at lunch, Jeno was walking to the food court with Mark, Jaemin, and Haechan. Haechan began grumbling about you, complaining that you had been a real pain in his ass due to a missing pen. Mark said it was his fault for losing her pen.

“As if she don’t already have hoards of them!” Haechan whined, stomping his feet.

Just as Jeno was about to ask more, your voice cut through the busy pathway. “Lee Donghyuck!”

Haechan seemed to shudder at hearing his real name. “Gosh! This psycho pen hoarder!” he exclaimed in horror.

Frightened, Haechan took off running. Before Jeno could even glance over, you zoomed past him in pursuit of Haechan, leaving only a lingering trail of your sweet perfume.

Jeno watched, intrigued, as you darted through the crowd, clearly determined to catch up to Haechan.

Jeno started noticing you everywhere. At the public library across town, your name was proudly displayed as one of the top readers for the year. You seemed to live in that library, always immersed in a book while Jeno used it as a quiet refuge, mostly for napping and studying only when he absolutely had to. He saw you in the quad, at the food court, in the school library, and even in the hallways and at the gates. It was as if no matter where he went, you were always in his line of sight.

His curiosity about you grew with every encounter. When your name came up in conversations with his roommates, he’d casually ask about you, careful not to hint at his interest. On the rare occasions you visited their apartment, he’d retreat to his room, listening from a distance but never making his presence known. He couldn’t quite explain why he chose to stay hidden, but he did.

One rainy afternoon, while stranded outside an electronics store downtown, Jeno stood shivering, hoping a cab would miraculously appear. Then he saw you emerging from the diner next door, shielded by an umbrella. His heart skipped a beat, and the dreariness of the rain-soaked streets seemed to lift. Surprised by his reaction, he pondered what it could mean. You struggled to hail a cab, and Jeno wrestled with whether or not to approach you. But he decided there were better times to do that than right now.

When a taxi finally arrived and you were about to close the door, Jeno acted on an impulse. He sprinted across the sidewalk and intercepted the cab door just in time. The spontaneity of his actions left him awkwardly sitting beside you in the cab, unsure how to start a conversation. Should he introduce himself and remind you of the ladder incident, or simply acknowledge that he was Jaemin and Mark’s friend?

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he missed his chance to say anything before his stop. Annoyed with himself, he walked to the apartment, his mood sour. Jaemin noticed Jeno’s dejected expression when he opened the door. “What happened?” Jaemin asked.

“Don’t remind me,” Jeno replied, brushing off the question.

That night, Jeno couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your face, so pretty and striking, lingered in his mind long after the encounter. He was captivated by how your gentle demeanor contrasted with your boldness—something he found both intriguing and endearing.

As the new week began, he found himself looking forward to the possibility of seeing you again. And this time, things were different. Instead of just glimpsing the back of your head or the side of your face, he found himself catching your gaze. You would often look away quickly, but sometimes you’d offer him a shy, bashful smile that left him both elated and curious.

What started with stolen glances and shy smiles evolved into something much deeper. Jeno found himself completely enchanted by you—not just because you were beautiful, but because you were brilliant and kind-hearted too. Your intimidating exterior gave way to a warmth and charm that drew people to you, and Jeno was no exception. The moments you shared—laughing over inside jokes, basking in comfortable silence, and watching your smile light up a room—made his heart swell with affection.

He knew he liked you, but as time went on, he realized his feelings went beyond mere admiration. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t easily define. And though he was still figuring out what to do about it, the desire to be near you only grew stronger.

But today, it felt like the steady course of your relationship was about to hit some unexpected turbulence. Jeno stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his scowl deepening as a swirl of questions raced through his mind. Who is Hendery Wong? Why did he seem to have an interest in you? What was your past relationship with him? And most pressing of all, what was Hendery doing in Jeno’s bedroom wrapped in a towel, straight out of a shower? Why did it feel like this moment was challenging everything Jeno had come to understand about his own feelings for you?

As Jeno struggled to make sense of the situation, he could only hope that whatever was happening would not only clarify the tangled emotions in his heart but also not drive a wedge between the bond he had cherished so much.

“Hendery moved back in with you?” you asked Mark, your voice laced with surprise and a hint of confusion.

Mark leaned back, resting his head on his hand as if the whole situation were more amusing than anything else. “Yep. The guy showed up from the airport with nowhere to crash. So, he’s crashing in Jeno’s room. You know, the room he used to have.”

You winced internally, knowing how much Jeno prized his personal space. “And Jeno?” you asked, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Before Mark could answer, Hendery plopped down in the chair next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders in a casual one-armed hug. His grin was impossibly wide and mischievous. “What about my roommate?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows in a teasing manner.

“You can’t just barge into his space like that!” you said, giving him a pointed look.

Hendery leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. “Oh? Are you worried about Jeno?”

“Yes!” you shot back, giving his cheek a gentle nudge. “You should find yourself a dorm or something!”

“Why would I do that?” Hendery asked with a playful glint in his eye. “I’m having too much fun hanging out with your crush.”

“Is that you, Hendery?” You heard Yangyang’s voice cut through the chatter. Turning, you saw him approaching with Jeno by his side.

Your heart did a little leap at the sight of Jeno, and you felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks. Jeno’s eyes met yours for a fleeting moment before he looked away, his expression hard to read.

Flustered, you started smacking Hendery’s arm repeatedly until he finally loosened his hold on you. Hendery stood up with a laugh, giving Yangyang a hearty clap on the back as they exchanged greetings. You pointed at the chair Hendery had just vacated, and without hesitation, Jeno moved past Hendery and settled into it.

Jeno turned to you with a soft, genuine smile. “How was class?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Extremely boring,” you replied, leaning in slightly. Your tone was a mix of exasperation and relief.

Jeno chuckled, his gaze lingering on you with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. Before the conversation could go any deeper, your other friends arrived, and the table soon filled up with lively chatter. Jeno had hoped his strategic move would prevent Hendery from sitting next to you, but as the group settled in, Hendery took the seat to your other side, creating a subtle but noticeable competition.

Every laugh you shared with Hendery seemed to amplify the emotions Jeno was trying hard to suppress. His focus on you, his protective stance, and the way his smile faltered when Hendery made a particularly affectionate gesture spoke volumes about the feelings he was trying to conceal.

It didn’t help that you and Hendery had the same classes. After lunch, you gave Jeno a sweet goodbye before leaving with Hendery. Jeno appreciated the extra attention you gave him, but seeing you walk away with Hendery left him feeling deflated.

For the next few days, Jeno made an effort to avoid seeing you with Hendery. He found it easier to focus on his growing feelings for you when he wasn’t constantly reminded of his competition. His strategy seemed to work, allowing him to enjoy quiet afternoons with you in the library, share coffee dates, and savor each other’s company. But as the weekend approached and the group hangout at your apartment loomed, Jeno knew that the unresolved tension between him and Hendery was about to come to a head.

The living room of your apartment with Sienna was alive with warmth and energy as everyone settled in for the long-awaited hangout. It had been a while since the whole group had come together, and the space was buzzing with a mix of excitement and relaxation. The floor was strewn with pillows, snacks were piled high on the coffee table, and the entire room felt like a cozy, informal gathering spot.

You were comfortably nestled on the couch next to Jeno, with Kayla lounging on the carpet with her head resting between your knees. Across from you, Mark and Renjun were in a light-hearted debate about which movie to watch later. Yangyang and Jaemin were sprawled on the floor, playing video games in their phones,while Sienna and Haechan were snuggling on the reclining chair by the large window, occasionally chiming in with the conversation despite being in their own separate bubble.

Hendery emerged from the kitchen, his grin as mischievous as ever. He handed out cans of drinks, making sure to give you and Jeno each a beer before plopping down beside you on the couch. Jeno, who had been relatively quiet since arriving, was perched on the other side of you, his eyes flickering between you and Hendery, taking in the easy vibe between you two.

Hendery’s casual proximity and the way he seemed to effortlessly include himself in the group contrasted sharply with Jeno’s more reserved demeanor. The evening progressed with laughter, conversation, and occasional moments of playful banter, but beneath it all, the unspoken competition and Jeno’s quiet contemplation were ever-present.

“So, Hendery,” Jaemin started with a teasing grin, “what kind of mischief did you get up to this past year? We heard rumors that you single-handedly kept the campus entertainment scene alive.”

Hendery chuckled, leaning back comfortably and draping an arm on the backrest behind you. “I wouldn’t say single-handedly, but I definitely added some flair to the dull parties.” He gave a wink, and the group chuckled. “Let’s just say it was a wild year and leave it at that.”

“Wild, my foot,” you jeered. “Didn’t seem so wild when you called me every day at three in the morning, convinced that your dorm was haunted.”

Everyone laughed, and Hendery groaned dramatically. “Okay, that was only for the first week! And I stand by it—those noises were not normal. When I moved to a different dorm, everything was much better.”

“Speaking of, how’s the rooming situation, Jeno?” Renjun asked turning the attention to Jeno.

Jeno shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s... fine. Hendery’s not the worst roommate I’ve had.”

“Not the worst?” Hendery echoed with mock offense. “I think I’m pretty great, actually.”

Jeno gave a half-smile. “You’re definitely something.”

“Do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?” Kayla teased, leaning in with a grin.

Mark chimed in, smirking. “Knowing Jeno, I’m guessing it’s somewhere in the middle.”

Jaemin laughed. “Come on, Jeno. Admit it—you secretly love having him around.”

Jeno forced a smile, shrugging. “He does keep things interesting, I’ll give him that.”

“You hear that?” Hendery said, looking delighted. “I’m officially interesting!”

“You’re officially a pain,” Haechan muttered, but his grin gave him away. The room burst into laughter, and the conversation flowed effortlessly.

Hendery grinned at Jeno. “Jeno’s pretty chill, though. And it’s only temporary. I’m looking into getting my own place in the same building.”

Kayla eyed Jeno. “So, you’re surviving, huh? No more ghost stories at midnight?”

“Not yet, but I’m keeping my ears open,” Jeno said, glancing at you with a subtle smile.

“Don’t worry, Jeno, I’m sure you’ll get used to him,” you teased, sharing a playful look with Hendery. “And if he starts getting spooked again, just give me a call. I’ll give you the lowdown on handling him.”

Hendery laughed, nudging you gently. “See? She knows how to deal with me.”

Mark chimed in, “It’s simple. Just smack him if he starts talking about ghosts.”

Hendery feigned a pout. “That’s not very nice.”

“Yeah. But you’ll find that the back of his head is much much more effective,” you added.

Hendery gasped in mock horror. “Et tu, Brute?”

You laughed, giving him a playful shove. “It’s for your own good.”

Jeno’s smile tightened slightly, his eyes lingering on the way you and Hendery interacted so effortlessly. The jokes, the shared stories—it was clear that you two had a history, one that was filled with memories and inside jokes that Jeno wasn’t a part of.

“Alright, enough about me,” Hendery said, waving a hand dismissively. “What’s been going on with you guys? I’ve been out of the loop for way too long.” He pointed across the room where Sienna and Haechan were cozied up together. “Especially that. When did that happen? And why?”

The conversation flowed smoothly after that, with everyone chiming in with their own stories and updates. You and Hendery continued to share a few more teasing comments, occasionally slipping into old jokes that made everyone laugh—even Jeno, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

As the evening went on, the group settled into a comfortable rhythm. But every now and then, Jeno’s gaze would drift to you, watching the way you laughed at Hendery’s stories, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke to him. And though he tried to brush it off, a small knot of jealousy twisted in his chest, making him wonder just how close you and Hendery had been—and what that might mean for him now.

Jaemin, having known Jeno for a long time, noticed the tension and his dilemma. “noticed Jeno’s quiet unease. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low enough to be heard only by Jeno.

Jeno laughed softly, the sound lacking its usual warmth. From his spot by the kitchen counter, he could see you playing rock-paper-scissors with Hendery, Mark, and Kayla. “Honestly? No. I’m not,” he admitted, grateful to have someone to vent to.

Jaemin sighed, leaning against the counter beside him. “I should’ve warned you sooner about Hendery. You don’t have to worry, though. You see how I mess around with her, right? The flirting and all that? It’s fake, as you already know. She’s close with all of us, but there’s nothing romantic going on.”

Jaemin paused, gauging Jeno’s reaction before continuing. “She’s comfortable being close to Mark. Yangyang is like her personal bodyguard. With Renjun, she can tell him anything and everything. Haechan’s like her mortal enemy, but it’s all in good fun.”

He hesitated, then added, “And Hendery? He’s like a combination of all of us. They’ve known each other for years, way before we came into the picture. But, as far as we know, there’s never been anything romantic between them. So, don’t stress. You’ll get used to it.”

Jeno forced a smile, but the knot in his chest didn’t loosen. Would he really get used to it? Did he even want to?

Kayla’s triumphant cheer filled the room, accompanied by your dramatic groan of defeat. Jeno watched as you, kneeling on the floor, wallowed in your loss. Hendery, grinning, poked your head playfully and called you a loser. You stood up and turned towards the kitchen, your face lighting up as soon as you saw Jeno. He returned your smile with a nod.

As you walked over, Jaemin gave Jeno a knowing glance and excused himself.

“What’s up?” you asked, casually taking Jeno’s hand in yours as you reached him.

Jeno smiled and shrugged. “Nothing much.”

“Would you like to come with us to the store?” you asked, your eyes gleaming with excitement. “We lost to Kayla and Mark, so we need to go buy refills.”

“With Hendery?” Jeno asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

You nodded. “Yeah. He’s being a pain, so I could use some backup. Please?”

Jeno nodded, knowing full well he could never say ‘no’ to you. “Alright, I’m in.”

The walk to the convenience store was cold and you were bundled up in Hendery and Jeno’s jackets, which you thought was odd but gladly took it in stride. Under the streetlights, your figures cast long shadows on the sidewalk and you could see how short you looked between the two guys, sandwiched between their taller frames—a strangely comforting feeling.

Hendery was talking about the noticeable changes in the neighborhood, pointing out things that were now gone and others that he knew weren’t there before.

“Did Wok’n’Roll close down?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of nostalgia as you passed by a stationery store that now stood where the Chinese restaurant used to be.

“Not really,” you replied, your gaze lingering on the unfamiliar storefront. “They moved to a different location, but it’s too far from here now.”

“That’s too bad,” Hendery mused, his tone tinged with regret. “We used to eat there all the time.”

A soft scoff escaped your lips as memories of shared meals and laughter filled your mind. “Yeah, I was pretty bummed too. But it’s not like I can drive halfway across the state just to eat there. It was good, but not ‘three-hour road trip’ good.”

It was almost midnight, and the city had quieted down, with most places closed except for a few 24/7 diners, cafes, and convenience stores. The stillness of the night was soothing, the only sounds being your footsteps and the rustling of leaves in the cool breeze. As you reached the convenience store, its flickering neon lights cast a stark, familiar glow over the entrance. Stepping inside, you were met with the artificial warmth and the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead.

You and Jeno moved through the aisles together, your steps falling into a comfortable rhythm as he carried the basket for you. Hendery, meanwhile, had wandered off, exploring the aisles with a casual curiosity.

“Aren’t you tired?” Jeno’s voice broke the quiet, concern evident as he added a pack of chips to the basket.

“Not really,” you replied with a light tone, glancing up at him. “I was a bit tipsy earlier, but the walk sobered me up.” Without thinking, you let Jeno link his index finger with your pinky, a small but intimate gesture that sent a warm flutter through your chest. You curled your pinky around his finger, holding on tightly as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “What about you?”

“I didn’t drink much,” he said, his smile softening as he looked down at your linked fingers. The sight of him watching your entwined hands made your cheeks flush, the simple act of holding hands feeling unexpectedly intimate.

“I think you’re obsessed with me,” you teased, trying to mask the giddiness bubbling up inside you with a playful nonchalance.

Jeno chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I might be,” he admitted, his eyes twinkling with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat.

The moment’s intimacy lingered as you regrouped with Hendery at the counter. He took the basket from you, effortlessly laying out the items for the cashier while striking up a casual conversation with the store clerk. Hendery’s ease with people, his ability to make anyone feel at ease, was something you’d always admired.

Jeno, however, seemed lost in thought. He gently tugged your arm, catching your attention. When you looked at him, he tilted his head towards the exit, a silent invitation to step outside. You tapped Hendery on the shoulder to let him know, “We’ll wait for you outside.”

“Okay,” Hendery replied, his focus still on the cashier as he continued his conversation.

The moment you stepped outside, the soothing patter of rain greeted you. The soft drizzle had started while you were inside, and the raindrops glistening under the streetlights made everything feel more intimate and serene. The world seemed to slow down as you stood side by side with Jeno, watching the rain together.

A yawn escaped you, and Jeno moved closer, concern etched in his voice. “You said you’re not tired,” he said softly.

“I was just yawning,” you reassured him with a quiet laugh. The sound seemed to ease his worry, though there was still a glimmer of something in his eyes that tugged at your heart.

In a gentle motion, Jeno unlinked his finger from yours and took your hand fully in his. The warmth of his hand was a comforting contrast to the cool rain falling around you. Leaning into his arm, you felt the steady rise and fall of his breath, the solid presence of him grounding you in the moment.

You stood there in silence, the rain creating a soothing backdrop. It was in these quiet moments that you felt the most at peace, with Jeno’s presence and the warmth of his hand making you feel seen and alive.

Finally, Jeno broke the silence, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “There’s something I have to tell you,” he said, staring at the rain-soaked street as if searching for the right words.

“What is it?” you asked gently, not wanting to rush him.

Jeno turned to face you, his gaze intense and filled with emotion. “I am in love with you. I hope you’re okay with that.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Your heart raced, a mix of surprise and joy swirling inside you. Without thinking, you cupped his face in your hands, the rain falling around you as you closed the distance between you. Your lips met his in a kiss that started soft and tentative but quickly deepened as all the emotions you’d both been holding back surged to the surface.

Jeno’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the kiss grew more urgent and passionate. It felt like everything he had been holding back was pouring out in this moment, and you responded with equal intensity. The rain continued to fall, but neither of you cared, lost in the warmth of each other’s embrace.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together as you tried to steady your racing hearts. You looked into Jeno’s eyes, searching for reassurance that this was real, that his confession wasn’t just a fleeting moment.

“I’m more than okay with it,” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with certainty.

His smile was radiant, brighter than you had ever seen. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into another kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your bubble of newfound love.

“Oh, wow, right in front of my sour patch strips,” Hendery’s voice broke through the moment, dripping with exaggerated disbelief.

Startled, you and Jeno pulled apart, laughter bubbling up despite the surprise. Hendery stood at the store entrance, his eyes wide with mock horror and a sour patch strip dangling from his mouth like a comedic prop. He was piled high with the snacks you’d picked out, making the scene even more absurd. Jeno quickly took the other bag of snacks from Hendery.

“Kids these days,” Hendery continued, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. “Right by the entrance too? Unbelievable.”

Jeno’s chuckle was warm and genuine, his gaze meeting yours with amusement and affection. You exchanged a knowing look, the earlier magic of the kiss still shimmering between you, even as Hendery’s interruption brought you back to the present.

The taxi ride back to your apartment was filled with a comforting silence, broken only by the hum of the engine and the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows. Hendery sat beside you, occasionally sneaking in a teasing glance, his lips curling into a smirk as he watched you and Jeno. You wanted to retort, to fire back with your own quip, but your mind and heart were consumed by the whirlwind of emotions that Jeno had stirred up. His hand, warm and steady in yours, would give a gentle squeeze every now and then, silently asking for your attention, and you’d meet his gaze, feeling a flutter in your chest each time.

Back at your apartment, your friends were blissfully unaware of the quiet revelations from the evening. Drinks were poured, conversations flowed, and your usually quiet nook in this big city was filled with laughter and cheer. Amidst the chatter and merriment, no one seemed to notice how Jeno stayed close to you all evening—his tender touches, the soft whispers, and the quiet laughter shared only between the two of you, creating a warm glow that seemed to envelop you both.

As the night wound down and your friends began to leave, Jeno lingered by your bedroom door, his shoulder resting against the frame as he looked at you with that same tender gaze from earlier. "I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant, as if he, too, was reluctant to let this moment end.

“You can stay, you know,” you told him, looking up to meet his gaze, a sweet smile playing on your lips.

“I would love to, but…” He glanced toward the living room where Jaemin and Mark were sprawled out on the couch, half-asleep and completely drunk. “Someone’s gotta get these morons home.”

Just then, Hendery stumbled out of the bathroom, his earlier cool demeanor replaced by a disheveled look and a pout that made him seem younger than his years. His eyes were bleary as he took in the scene, blinking slowly. “Are we sleeping over?” he mumbled, frowning as he rubbed his temples.

“I called a cab. They’ll be here soon,” Jeno replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Good. Can’t sleep here. There’s a weird ringing sound… it’s creeping me out,” Hendery muttered, words slurred, barely coherent. He shuffled over to the couch and wedged himself between Jaemin and Mark.

You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to Jeno. “Pretty sure that’s just the alcohol in his head.”

Jeno chuckled, the sound warm and familiar, resonating in the quiet of your room. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered back, rising onto your tiptoes to kiss him on the lips, savoring the warmth that spread through you at the touch.

Neither of you moved to leave. Instead, you lingered there, standing close, your hand still resting on his arm. A moment of comfortable silence stretched between you, filled with unspoken words and shared smiles. Jeno’s thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand, and you found yourself leaning closer to him, not wanting to break the spell.

“Did you see how Yangyang tried to challenge Jaemin to a dance-off earlier?” you asked out of nowhere.

Jeno laughed softly, shaking his head. “I missed that. Who won?”

“Jaemin, by default. Yangyang nearly fell over trying to do some kind of spin,” you grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“That sounds about right,” he replied, squeezing your hand lightly. “Shame I didn’t see that.”

“You were literally sitting there with me,” you scoffed, unconvinced.

“Yeah, well, I was busy staring at you,” he replied without missing a beat, catching you off-guard.

You gawked at him for a moment, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “Oh shut up!” you chastised once you found your voice, hitting his chest lightly.

Jeno held your fist, keeping them pressed on his chest as he leaned to kiss you cheek. “It’s true. I will never lie to you.”

“You lied to me about being the mafia earlier though,” you retorted, narrowing your eyes at him.

He threw his head back laughing. “That was necessary.”

“Nah, you’re just a liar,” you quipped.

The conversation kept drifting from one topic to another, neither of you making any move to end it. You talked about random things—Renjun’s ridiculous laugh during the movie earlier, Haechan and Sienna sneaking into her bedroom, Hendery’s questionable cocktail, and even the weather forecast for the next day.

Every time you thought Jeno would finally say goodbye, another thought seemed to cross his mind, another comment made you both chuckle, and neither of you seemed willing to let the moment slip away.

Then, Jeno’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it, the glow of the screen lighting up his face. “The taxi’s here,” he said reluctantly.

You felt a small pang of disappointment but managed to smile. “It’s okay. You’ll see me again tomorrow.”

“Right, I will,” Jeno smiled contently before walking over to the couch to wake the others. You watched as they stirred, stretched, and yawn before filing up to the door.

You walked them to the cramped foyer as they muttered their thanks and bid you goodnight. Jeno had them wait in front of the elevator in the hallway before going back to your apartment door for a proper goodbye. He scooped you up in his arms, pressing a firm kiss on your lips.

“Goodbye, Jeno,” you told him after you pulled away.

“Goodbye,” he said, his smile wide and radiant.

When he didn’t make a move to leave, you cocked your head to your dazed friends in the hallway. “You should go before Hendery starts complaining about the ringing again.”

“Right,” Jeno said, but his hand still lingered on the doorknob, his gaze locked with yours. He took a small step forward, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

“I’ll probably be asleep before then,” you nodded, your voice softer now. “But okay.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jeno gave you one last kiss—a lingering, gentle press of his lips against yours—before finally stepping back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jeno,” you whispered, watching him as he finally turned and left.

Even as the door closed, you stayed there for a moment, the warmth of his presence still lingering in the halls of your apartment You locked the door behind you, and went to your bedroom, glancing briefly at Sienna’s door where she and Haechan are probably already asleep. As you finally crawled into bed, the soft patter of rain against the window filled the room, bringing a smile to your lips. The memory of Jeno’s touch was still vivid, the warmth of his kiss lingering like a secret just for you.

It was almost unbelievable, how much had changed between you. Jeno, who once seemed so distant, like a dream you could never quite reach, had just confessed his love to you. It was like stepping into a whole new world—one you’d only ever dared to imagine. You went from being the girl with a secret crush to someone whose feelings were returned in the most beautiful way possible.

As you lay back on your bed, your fingers brushed against your lips, still tingling from the kisses you shared. You’d spent countless nights dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his lips against yours, and now that it had actually happened, it was even better than you had ever imagined.

You thought of the way Jeno had looked at you just before he confessed, the mix of nervousness and hope in his eyes making your heart race. The way he had leaned in, the gentleness of his touch—it had all felt so real, so right, that it was almost hard to believe it wasn’t a dream.

You knew it was coming. You had been seeing the signs these last few days. You’d felt the growing connection between you, but still, nothing could have prepared you for the reality of hearing those words, of feeling that kiss.

As you drifted off to sleep, a contented sigh escaped your lips. The night might have ended, but the magic of it was far from over.

That weekend with Jeno felt like a dream—a series of perfect moments strung together in a blur of happiness. You found yourselves tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, surrounded by the scent of old books and the soft, steady rustle of pages turning. Jeno, originally engrossed in an ancient cartography book, eventually gave in to the peaceful lull of the afternoon, his head resting gently on the desk beside you.

You glanced at him, a smile tugging at your lips as you reached out, your fingers brushing through his dark hair in a tender, almost absentminded gesture. The warmth of his presence and the steady rise and fall of his breathing felt like a comforting blanket, wrapping around you as you lost yourself in the words on the page.

After a while, Jeno stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he shifted closer to you. “What are you reading?” he whispered, his voice hushed, still thick with sleep, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

You smiled, tilting your head to let him get closer. His arms snaked around your waist beneath the desk, pulling you closer. “A poetry collection. It’s one of my favorites,” you replied.

He hummed in contentment, warm breath fanning your skin. “Read me a line?” he murmured in a tone that was soft and inviting.

You flipped back a few pages, your eyes landing on a passage that had always struck a chord with you. With a mischievous grin, you began, “And so I’ll see the railway track, and lay my head upon the rail, And sight the dark and distant train…”

Before you could finish, Jeno bolted upright, his eyes wide with alarm. The startled look on his face made you burst into laughter, but you continued with the same mock-seriousness, “And hear its thunder louder roll, Coming to crush my cursed brain… Oh God, have mercy on my soul!”

For a moment, you both stared at each other, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. Your laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, and you nudged him with your elbow. “Come on, say something.”

Jeno blinked, his bewilderment slowly melting into a sheepish smile. “What the heck was that?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck, his voice laced with playful exasperation.

After dinner, you found yourselves wandering through a quaint little stationery shop that caught your eye. The shelves were lined with pens, notebooks, and little trinkets that you could spend hours browsing through. Jeno watched with amused affection as you debated with yourself over a pen that you found too cute to leave behind. He didn’t rush you, letting you indulge yourself.

“This is too cute,” you gushed, twirling it between your fingers.

Jeno chuckled, nudging you lightly. “Since you like it so much, why don’t you just buy it?”

You sighed, shoulders sagging. “Do I really need another pen?”

“You probably don’t, but if you want it…” he trailed off, shrugging. “Go for it.”

You grumbled but took the pen anyway. “At this rate, I’ll have enough pens to open my own store.”

His eyes softened, and he pulled you closer by the waist. “Then maybe you can write me love letters with each one,” he said playfully, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead amidst the colorful aisles.

“Don’t tempt me because I might do just that,” you told him, and the two of you laughed on your way to the counter.

When you returned to your apartment, it was still early enough to watch a movie. You both settled in your bedroom, the lights dimmed, a blanket draped over your legs as the film played on the screen of your laptop. But your attention wasn’t on the movie—it was on the way Jeno’s arm rested around your shoulders, how his fingers absentmindedly played with the ends of your hair.

The movie soon became nothing more than a distant murmur, easily overshadowed by the warmth of Jeno’s presence beside you. His fingers continued to toy with the ends of your hair, each gentle touch sending a shiver down your spine. You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Jeno’s gaze shifted from the screen to you, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. Without a word, he leaned down, brushing his lips against your temple in a feather-light kiss. You smiled, turning your face slightly to meet his gaze. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered at that moment—made your breath catch.

His gaze lingered on you, and without a word, he leaned down, brushing his lips against your temple in a gentle kiss. You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch. The way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world, made your heart race.

“Do you know how beautiful you look right now?” Jeno’s voice was a soft murmur, his breath warm against your skin.

You blushed, meeting his eyes. “I don’t know if I believe that,” you teased, though you could feel the fluttering in your chest.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. “It’s true. You always look beautiful to me.”

The moment felt electric. Jeno’s lips hovered close to yours, a silent question hanging in the air. You leaned in, closing the gap between you. Your lips met his in a kiss that was soft and tentative at first, but soon deepened, growing more intense as you both melted into the connection.

Jeno’s hand slipped from your hair to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he tilted your head slightly to angle the kiss just right. You could feel the heat of his touch, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, making everything else fade away.

His other hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer until there was hardly any space left between you. Your hands, almost on instinct, wound around his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you lost yourselves in the moment.When you gave his lip a soft bite, Jeno let out a deep, satisfied groan that made your head spiral. His hand trailed down from your waist to your thigh, lifting it slightly so it’s wrapping around his torso.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. You could feel his breath against your lips, still heavy with the aftermath of your kiss. The way he looked at you—his eyes half-lidded, lips slightly swollen—made your heart race all over again.

“You know, I was actually, genuinely, with no ulterior motives whatsoever, hoping to watch this movie,” Jeno whispered, his voice hushed, almost amused.

You chuckled softly, glancing at the screen where the movie was still running. “I think we missed most of it,” you admitted, your own voice barely above a whisper.

Jeno grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’m totally okay with that,” he replied, lifting your chin as he drew you back into another kiss.

And as you let your heart go where it wanted to go, you knew without a doubt that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

As soon as you met up with your friends, you could barely contain your excitement. The words practically tumbled out of your mouth before anyone could even ask. Sitting in your usual spot at the food court for lunch, you dropped the news.

“Jeno and I are together now,” you announced, a triumphant smile plastered across your face. You were ready for the gasps, the shrieks, the dramatic reactions. After all, this was big news.

Renjun raised an eyebrow, sipping his coffee nonchalantly. “Good for you.”

You blinked, a little taken aback by the casualness of her response. Kayla clapped her hands quietly, smiling to congratulate you. Olive copied her but both of them didn’t seem surprised at all. Haechan was just scrolling through his phone.

“Wait, is that it?” you asked, confused. “I thought you’d be surprised.”

Your friends exchanged glances, their reactions surprisingly subdued. Olive shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Uh, we kind of figured that out already.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What? How? When? Was it last weekend? We were practically inseparable then!”

Kayla chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Sweetie, you two have been inseparable for weeks. We’ve all seen it coming.”

“Honestly, I thought you two were already a thing,” Renjun chimed in, stirring her drink lazily.

“But I thought we were being subtle,” you said, your voice trailing off in disbelief.

Haechan snorted, not lifting his eyes from his screen. “Yeah, about as subtle as a flashing neon sign.”

“I’m pretty sure the only reason we didn’t say anything was because we assumed you wanted to keep it low-key,” Kayla added.

You groaned, leaning back in your seat. “And here I was thinking I was dropping a bombshell.”

Olive grinned, reaching over to give your hand a squeeze. “We’re happy for you, though! Even if you’re terrible at keeping secrets.”

“Yes, we’re so happy for you,” Kayla said, grinning. “But you’re not getting off that easy.”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Details,” Kayla demanded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We need all the details. How did he confess? Was it as cute as we’ve been imagining?”

“Wait,” Olive interjected. “You’re not the one who confessed, are you?”

You didn’t get to answer them because your other friends soon arrived, making the space livelier with their chatter and greetings. Hendery slid on the long chair next to you, giving you a mischievous grin. You rolled your eyes at him, turning away in feigned annoyance. As you did, you spotted Jeno and your face lit up. You waved happily at him.

“Oh, shit. I forgot about him,” Hendery muttered next to you, rising to his feet to move elsewhere.

Jeno smiled gratefully at Hendery as he claimed the seat next to you. Glancing at you with a sweet smile, he said, “How was class?”

You shrugged. “You already know how they are.”

“Extremely boring?” he said, echoing the same answer you’d always given him.

You nodded, smiling as he took your hand under the table, intertwining your fingers with his and resting them on his thigh. You and your friends talked over a hearty meal. And while you had expected them to at least be surprised that you and Jeno were finally dating, you realized that it was better that their attentions were elsewhere.

Jeno was more attentive than usual, making sure you were eating well, refilling your water, and just generally being… boyfriend-y. You had initially thought you’d be detached from your circle during lunch, that all of your attention would be directed at Jeno. But it seemed like your friends were right, the signs were already there. It was as if nothing had changed at all.

“I should get to class,” Kayla said after checking the time on her watch.

“Oh crap, me too,” Olive added. One by one, your friends started dispersing, rushing to their classes or heading back home.

“Let’s go, babygirl,” Hendery said in a sing-song, standing up and slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

Without thinking much about it out of habit, you stood up to oblige, and Jeno held the hem of your shirt to stop you. You glanced at him inquiringly.

“Let’s go together,” he said with a slight scowl.

“Oh, okay,” you replied, sitting back down.

For a moment, it hit you that being together with Jeno meant you’d start doing things as a couple, and that might mean figuring out what’s okay with friends and what isn’t.

“Bye Deryry,” you grinned at Hendery, waving a hand. “Have fun being lonely.”

Hendery grimaced. “I hate it when you get a boyfriend.”

“Bye-bye!” you teased, sticking your tongue out. Deep inside, the word ‘boyfriend’ is echoing in your mind. It was a seemingly ordinary term but it made you fee giddy—as it was the label that cemented the reality of your relationship with Jeno.

After Hendery was finally out of earshot, Jeno pouted at you, “Why does he call you that?”

“What? babygirl?” you asked, and he nodded. “He’s been calling me that for ages.”

“I see. But why?” he asked, shifting slightly in his seat and brushing something off your shoulder.

You shrugged. “I forgot the exact reason, but I do know it wasn’t nice. He calls me babygirl as an insult.”

Jeno’s pout didn’t disappear as he twirled some strands of your hair around his finger, lifting them to his nose. “Sounds more like an endearment to me.”

You shuddered at the thought. “Trust me, it isn’t. Ask any of our friends—or my parents. He used to always call me that to make fun of me. It kind of just stuck after all these years.”

“Okay, I trust you,” he said, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

Ooh, is my boyfriend showing a bit of jealousy on our first week together?” you teased.

“I’ll have you know that I’m a very jealous man,” Jeno replied with a grin.

You snorted. “That’s funny because I’m a very jealous woman.”

“Good. I like my women jealous.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow. “Which of your exes was the most jealous?”

Jeno seemed to think for a moment before grinning. “I could answer that, but it feels like a trap.”

You smirked. “Oh, so you remember which one? She must have been pretty memorable.”

Jeno burst into laughter, throwing his head back. “Not memorable enough to have my friends challenge their team to a sports game just to get back at them, though.”

You paused, momentarily confused, then remembered the time you cheered for Mark during a basketball game against your ex’s team. “Hey, how did you even know about that?”

Jeno’s grin widened. “You were so passionate. Even more so than when you cheered for me at the Sports’ Fest championship.”

“My god,” you blurted, covering your mouth out of embarrassment. “Well, for the record, it was two different kinds of passion. I hated my ex, but I liked you!” you declared, pressing your index finger against his chest.

He caught your finger, holding it close to his heart, grinning cheekily. “That’s how long you’ve liked me?”

“No. I liked you long before that.”

“Did you? Really?”

“Yes. I liked you the first time I saw you at the library in my hometown.”

He frowned. “That’s the first time you saw me?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s true!”

Walking to your class, Jeno told you about the time he first saw you, how deeply intriguing you were and how much of an impression you left on him. He told you how that cascaded into a series of events and encounters that led to this—this right now, the two of you, holding hands along the hallways of NCIT as he walked you to your class. The unexpected memories—all of it made you realize just how deeply your lives had been intertwined, even before you were fully aware of it.

“So, what other secrets are you hiding from me?” you asked stopping in front of your classroom.

Jeno’s grin turned mischievous. “Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.”

“I think I can manage that. But for now, I have class,” you whispered, sealing the promise with another kiss, knowing that with Jeno, every day would be a new adventure.

When you and Jeno were alone together, it felt like the world shrank to just the two of you. Whether you were tangled up together or quietly doing your own thing, there was a peaceful contentment in the air. This afternoon was no different. You spent most of the day in bed, editing your thesis proposal on your laptop, while Jeno was beside you, sometimes engrossed in a book, other times wandering around the house doing little chores.

After finally finishing your work, you realized Jeno had been gone for a while. You closed your laptop and went looking for him, eager to enjoy his company after hours of academic drudgery.

You found him on the couch, deeply focused on his phone, his thumbs flying over the screen. Your heart swelled at the sight of him, and without thinking, you hopped onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “What are you up to?” you asked, your voice playful, your lips brushing his ear.

Jeno didn’t look up, but the corners of his mouth lifted as you kissed his cheek. “Playing a game with the guys,” he replied, still absorbed in his phone. He leaned into your kiss as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Finished with your thesis?”

“Finally,” you sighed, resting your head against his chest and feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. “Can you put that down for a sec? I want some cuddles.”

Jeno’s lips curled into a smile as he kept tapping on his screen. “Cuddles and kisses?”

You hummed in agreement, your fingers trailing along the back of his neck. “Yes, please.”

“Alright, just give me a second…” he said, his voice trailing off as he focused on what you assumed was a crucial moment in his game.

Unable to resist teasing him, you kissed his cheek again, then his nose. Sensing what was coming, Jeno pursed his lips, clearly anticipating a kiss. Smirking, you decided to have some fun. Instead of kissing his lips, you kissed his other cheek, then his forehead, and back to his nose, deliberately avoiding his waiting lips.

Jeno chuckled softly, finally looking up from his phone. “What are you doing?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned in for a proper kiss.

You dodged at the last second, kissing his forehead instead, grinning mischievously.

Jeno tutted, pretending to be exasperated, though his eyes were full of affection. “You little tease,” he murmured, setting his phone aside. He shifted to wrap his arms around you, pulling you close until there was no space left between you. “Stay still,” he said, his voice low and commanding, as he cupped your face in his hands and leaned in for a soft, lingering kiss.

The kiss was slow and sweet, each moment a reminder of how much you meant to each other. When you finally pulled away, Jeno’s eyes were warm and full of love, his smile as lovely as ever. “See? That’s more like it.”

You pouted, pretending to be indifferent even though butterflies fluttered in your stomach. “Be honest, you’re obsessed with me, aren’t you?”

Jeno scoffed loudly, as if offended by the suggestion. “I thought you knew that already?” he said with a laugh, tightening his hold around your waist. “That’s it. Let’s go back to bed.”

“What? Why?” you whined, though you made no move to resist. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. “I’ve been in bed all day.”

“Don’t care,” Jeno declared, his tone light but insistent. “I need to show you exactly how obsessed I am with you.”

Before you could protest, Jeno scooped you up in his arms and stood, carrying you toward the bedroom. You squealed with laughter, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he marched you back to bed.

Three months had passed since you and Jeno first started dating, and life had never felt more perfectly chaotic. The two of you had settled into a comfortable rhythm, the kind that comes with knowing someone as deeply as you did. But as much as your relationship with Jeno blossomed, your friendships remained just as important.

Your group of friends had become something of a family—a loud, boisterous, and wonderfully supportive family. The cafeteria was buzzing with its usual lunchtime energy as your group settled into your usual spot. Kayla was already in full swing, her sharp tongue and quick wit keeping everyone entertained.

“So, Olive,” Kayla started with a smirk, “are you going to force us to pose for you again today? I’m still recovering from last week’s ‘artistic vision’.”

Olive rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “Please, Kayla, you’re practically a natural in front of the camera. I’m just trying to help you discover your true calling.”

“Yeah, right,” Kayla shot back. “I think I’ll stick to law school, thanks.”

You laughed along with them, leaning into Jeno, who was sitting comfortably beside you. His hand found yours under the table, fingers lacing together with ease. Olive caught the movement and raised her camera, pretending to take a candid shot.

“There! That’s the perfect shot—lovebirds in their natural habitat,” Olive teased.

You played along, giving her a mock-serious look. “At least make sure we look good. I don’t want to be tagged in another one of your experimental edits.”

Olive giggled. “No promises!”

Hendery slid into the seat beside Olive, peeking at the camera. Olive showed it to him, saying, “They look great, don’t they?”

Hendery grimaced. “No. They look obscenely happy. It’s making me sick.”

Jeno smirked, grinning. “Jealous much? Don’t worry, you’ll always be her second favorite.”

Hendery laughed, nudging Jeno with his shoulder. “Second favorite? Please, Jeno, I’m at least tied for first.”

You shook your head at their banter, but you couldn’t help smiling. “You guys aren’t even in my top three.”

Jeno and Hendery stared at you for a hot minute, appalled. You snickered. “I’m serious. Sienna is my number one…”

Kayla raised a hand, “I’m her number two.”

“Three!” Olive added.

Hendery and Jeno exchanged looks. “So I’m number four?” asked Hendery, pointing to himself.

“No you’re not,” Jeno said, shaking his head.

“You guys need to stop doing that, seriously,” you chided, scowling at Hnedery across the table.

Hendery pretended to think about it. “Hmm, nah. Request denied. It’s fun watching Jeno get all territorial.”

“I’m not territorial,” Jeno muttered, but the playful tone in his voice betrayed him.

Hendery leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with a satisfied smile. “Sure, you’re not.”

Across the table, Jaemin and Yangyang were locked in their usual debate, this time over which video game was superior. Renjun, sitting between them, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but was too polite to say so.

“I’m telling you, ‘Realm of Legends’ has the best graphics,” Jaemin insisted, waving his fork for emphasis.

Yangyang shook his head. “Graphics aren’t everything, dude. ‘Dragon Quest’ has a better storyline.”

Renjun sighed dramatically. “Or we could all just agree that you’re both nerds and call it a day?”

Jaemin shot him a playful glare. “Says the guy who spent all weekend building a virtual city.”

“It’s called architecture, Jaemin. You wouldn’t understand,” Renjun retorted with a smirk, earning a chuckle from the group.

Meanwhile, Mark was unusually quiet, his attention fixed on his phone. You noticed the faint smile playing on his lips and couldn’t resist leaning over to nudge him.

“Oh my God, Mark!” you exclaimed, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. “Who’s got you all smiley?”

Mark’s head snapped up, his cheeks instantly turning red. “W-What? No one! It’s just...a friend.”

“A friend, huh?” Olive said, her tone dripping with disbelief. “A friend who happens to be making you blush like that?”

Jaemin leaned in, grinning mischievously. “Is it that girl from Hyunjin’s party? You’ve been texting her a lot lately.”

Mark’s face grew even redder, and he tried to hide behind his phone. “It’s nothing serious, really. We’re just talking.”

“Talking,” Kayla repeated, drawing out the word like it was the most scandalous thing in the world. “Mark, sweetie, you’re adorable.”

You and the girls burst into laughter, much to Mark’s dismay. But underneath all the teasing, you were genuinely happy for him. It wasn’t every day that Mark got close to someone, and seeing him this flustered was a good sign.

Across the table, Haechan and Sienna were sharing an inside joke, whispering and giggling like the adorable couple they were. Haechan caught you watching and flashed you a cheeky grin.

“What? Don’t be jealous. You’ve got your own boyfriend now,” he teased, nudging Jeno with his elbow.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips as you glanced at Jeno.

Kayla groaned dramatically. “I swear, if you two start being all cutesy, I’m moving to another table.”

As the lunch period wound down, you leaned closer to Jeno, your head resting on his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head, and you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the moment sink in. Life was good, and with your friends by your side—and Jeno’s hand in yours—it could only get better.

And as you sat there, surrounded by the people who meant the most to you, you knew that this is exactly where you want to be. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[fin]

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