#full fic coming very soon

[howisjoostfanfictionforfree]

snip!

Part one of this series (which I will be posting soon) is almost finished but in the mean time here is a teeny tiny nugget since I said I'd give one!

Pairing: vampire!reader x Joost

CW: RPF, plenty (and I mean plenty) of other warnings will apply in this series but none in this particular excerpt

Remember guys, reader is the vampire here, not Joost

When you get to the club it is delightfully similar to the photos and you spend your evening rotating between dancing your ass off and people watching from the side when the smells and jostling get a little too exciting.

Yes, the club is exciting. The right amount this time around. You feel like a real young adult. You give yourself another pat on the back for your foray into normalcy.

It’s a smaller club on Lange Leidsedwarsstraat. By no means tucked away but far enough from Leidseplein main square that there are far fewer tourists. The ice is starting to melt in your drink. You can’t be bothered with it when there is so much to look at. There can't be more than a hundred people crammed in this basement but they manage to sport a variety of fashion and dance styles. Inevitably you spot hakken amongst them. The tangle of decks and mixers on the small raised stage is huge and the lone DJ operating it all is lit up in alternating colors as lights strobe from behind to scatter over the crowd.

You work your way out of the corner and back onto the dance floor again. The upbeat song playing now hits just the right vibe for how you’re feeling. 

Doe de Fryslân bop

Wist je niet dat ik van Fryslân kom?

Dude, doe de Fryslân bop

Blaas het op als een fietsbandpomp

You bop along for a minute as the song demands and notice a group of several people shouting along much louder than everyone else. They seem to know every word. One of them facing away from you turns in place as he dances and suddenly you’re locking eyes with the exact same guy. 

Jesus Christ what are the odds. 

Well, maybe not terrible odds if you consider he’s probably a local. 

But still. Goddammit. 

His face instantly lights up and it would be kind of cute if you weren’t panicking. What happened to not giving a fuck? Before you can move a single muscle to make your retreat he is surging towards you through the crowd and  o h   s h i t   you did not expect that. You thought he’d be running too. Even if he had been surprisingly horny in the face of inhuman eyes you figured the freakish speed there at the end would have been enough to spook him.

Shocked, you fail to stop him from grabbing your wrist like he can tell you’re gonna make a break for it again. Vampire reflexes who? You open your mouth to protest but before you can say anything he leans in and bites your shoulder.  

What.

WHAT?

[25centsoda]

DinLuke Fic in honor of AO3 Down

Chapter 1 of my five-chapter wip (currently getting my ass kicked by chapter 3) to feed the starving masses on this terrible day of AO3 Down. Fic and summary subject to change by the time I finish, edit, and finally post it. Fair warning this chap is 9 pages on my google doc.

Summary: After rescuing Grogu, Din retired to a quiet life as a lighthouse keeper with his son. Unfortunately, his life is determined to be anything but quiet.

Tags: Mermaid au, DinLuke, Din Djarin, Grogu, Luke Skywalker, Cara Dune, Moff Gideon, Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine, Little Mermaid-ish, fantasy au, modern au, AAC, autistic Grogu, nonspeaking Grogu, Din was a hitman

EDIT: AUGH apparently AO3 came back up while I was posting. Was supposed to be down for 3 more hours...smh. Anyways, enjoy ig!

There was a merman lying on the rocky beach, above the tidal line, not twenty feet away.

Din rubbed his eyes. Blinked. The merman was still there.

He turned around.

Turned back.

Still there.

His gaze drifted up to the clouds as he thought, mind churning like stormy waves. Had he had breakfast that morning? Or water? Dehydration did things to the brain, right? Maybe the kid had kept him up too late and he was dreaming…

A rock landed very near his foot. He looked down.

The merman was waving to him. Propped up on one pale arm, with blue…gills? Fins? Waving merrily just behind his ears. There were more fins along the back of each arm. He was smiling and mouthing something, but no sound was coming out.

Din better not be hallucinating.

He picked his way across the rocks and stopped in front of the…fish. Man. Gods above, there were scales on this man’s bare stomach, and just below his belly button the skin faded entirely into blue scales, and his lower half was…

The merman flapped his tail, silently laughing. It slapped the ground with a wet sound.

Din could only stare.

The merman waved his hand, bringing Din’s attention back to his face, which was unfairly beautiful, a fact that Din elected to ignore. He began signing animatedly and mouthing something, but it wasn’t any sign language Din knew, and he’d never been great at reading lips.

Din shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t understand.”

The merman stopped signing with a huff. He bit his lip, looking around. There wasn’t much to see. This beach was isolated—that’s why Din had chosen it. There was nothing around except for chunks of pale rocks in varying sizes, the water, and, distantly, grassy dunes. And the lighthouse Din was paid to keep.

“Hold on,” Din said. He got several steps away before another thrown rock reminded him to say, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get something that will help.”

It was a long walk back to the lighthouse, but it was a walk he made every other day, to ensure that nothing weird or dangerous had washed up. And it was a good thing, too, because evidently something had washed up. Or…someone? Din wasn’t really sure how to refer to a literal merman. He still wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing.

Grogu was waiting at the door for him, one little hand holding the doorframe as he leaned out of it, waving his device. “Ba!” he shouted. His black hair fell into his face—Din needed to cut it soon—as he looked down to make selections. As Din neared, the device read out, “Dad where go? Why back soon?”

Din tousled his son’s hair. “Just came back to grab something real quick, buddy. I’ve gotta go out again.”

Grogu tilted his head in question.

Din passed him, entering the kitchen. “I don’t know what I’ve found. Somebody that needs help, I think.”

.

.

.

Din made his way back to the beach. The merman was still there. Din wished he had thought to grab himself a bottle of water, or a snack or something, but the fact that the man was still there boded well for Din’s mental faculties, if not for the logic of the universe.

“Can you read English? D’you even know English? Do you know what I’m saying?”

Din felt stupid, talking to some hallucination-man-fish-thing, but the man nodded, so Din took that as a yes.

“Okay. Uh, well I have this.” He held out the communication board that he had brought. It was laminated—they all were, so that they would last longer—so it wouldn’t be bothered by the fact that the man reaching out a hand to take it was still dripping wet. Din had grabbed the hospital board rather than any of the core boards or fringe vocabularies, thinking that it would be the most useful. It wasn’t like Grogu already had a single-page board for mermaid trapped on the beach, and Din figured that the man was likely to be injured or hurting in some way, being so far up on the rocks. “Point to whatever you want to say.”

The merman examined the green board with interest, front and back. He seemed to read every icon carefully. The back had the alphabet and “YES”/”NO” along the bottom, a section labeled “I WANT”, a section labeled “I AM”, “I WANT TO SEE”, and a section containing icons for yes, no, thank you, stop, pen/paper. The front had pictures of a blank, uncolored body showing the front and back view with a pain scale in the middle, and icons describing different types of pain like itches, stings, can’t move. Along the sides of the front were requests for items, bathroom, and like that, don’t like, repeat that, speak louder.

After a while, Din said, “Well? Are you, uh, injured, or anything?”

The man scanned the board again, and finally pointed to the image of a glass labeled Water. As he did so, Din noticed that his fingers were webbed halfway together, with shimmering blue, nearly-transparent webbing. He looked up at Din.

“Right. Right.” Din found himself swinging his arms as he looked around the beach. He forced himself to stop. “I can. Uh.” How heavy could a fish-man be? Probably very heavy. Still—“I can bring you back to the ocean?”

The merman shook his head vehemently, eyes wide. Din noticed for the first time that they were blue, like the man’s fins. The man pointed to the red icon labeled NO over and over.

Din held up a placating hand. “Okay, okay. No ocean. Got it.” He didn’t understand in the slightest, but the message was clear. “What if I bring up a bucket?”

The man nodded.

Din…didn’t have a bucket on him. Luckily, there was a storage shed not too far from here—there was a dock about half a mile back. Once he had a bucket and filled it with water, he hesitated.

“Do you want me to just—” Din made a motion like he was going to throw the water on him.

The man gestured for the bucket. Din handed it over. The man dipped his hand in and splashed the water on the fins sticking out of his head.

Huh. Maybe those were his gills, or…something. Din didn’t exactly know that much about fish biology. Mostly what he knew about was killing. And, slowly, how to care for a nonspeaking toddler.

“Are you lost? Are you, uh, hungry?”

The man pointed to Thank you. 

Din was suddenly seized with the urge to know—”What’s your name? If—if you can spell it.” If a merman knew English, he could spell his name in English, right? Or would it be all clicks and whistles, like a dolphin?

He watched as the man spelled L—U—K—E.

“Luke.”

A nod and a smile.

“Luke,” Din said again, and wasn’t it enough that the man had an unfairly attractive face and, if he was already admitting things to himself anyway, body? Did he have to have a name that moved in Din’s mouth like that?

N—A—M—E—?

“What?”

Luke spelled it out again.

“Oh, my name.” Gods, Din was an idiot. “It’s Din. Din Djarin.”

Din. Luke mouthed the name, smiling. Din felt like he was going to combust.

“Uh, if you’re not going to go back in the ocean…” Din paused again. Luke shook his head wildly, almost unbalancing himself. Din forged on. “...would you like to come to my house? I have a bathtub I can fill with salt water for you; it’s probably more comfortable than these rocks.”

Luke pointed to Yes.

“Okay, great.”

It was quite the job getting Luke to his house. He’d thought he was pretty strong, but they had to take several breaks for Din to catch his breath. The merman was slimy in his arms, his scales rough. Luke held on to the (emptied) bucket and the hospital communication board. By the time they got back to the house, the sun was beginning to set, Din’s arms and shirt were rubbed raw, and Grogu was angry—at least, he was until he saw what Din had in his arms.

Grogu squealed. His device read out, “Mermaid! Mermaid! Mermaid!” He did a little dance, flapping his arms and twirling excitedly in the doorway.

“Move, kid,” Din grit out, muscles shaking. Luke waved from his arms.

Grogu got out of the way and Din made it all the way into the bathroom before he had to set Luke down again lest he drop him. Luke shivered on the cold tile. Din had to reach over him to turn on the tap. Grogu waited in the doorway, watching.

“Oh—sorry, do you need salt water?”

Luke pointed to Yes, his hands shaking. His golden-blond hair was drying now, into thick waves around his gills. Some of the blue spots on his skin were turning colorless, as well, which probably wasn’t great.

“Kid, stay with him a minute, I’m gonna get salt water.” Din pulled the drain open and stood, shaking off the water.

More buckets. More trips back and forth to the shore. It took more than Din had thought to fill up the bathtub. Luke splashed himself every so often as he waited. Grogu had brought in the whole folder of laminated communication boards, and pulled down the laminated booklet on a hook from the bathtub, and he and Luke were engaged in a vibrant conversation that meant that Din had to watch where he stepped lest he slip.

Finally, the tub was full, and Din hauled Luke up one last time, and into the water. Luke slapped his tail excitedly, splashing water everywhere. Grogu squealed, raising his little hands up to the sky. Din was entranced by the water shining off Luke’s blue scales, the almost translucent…skin?...on the bottom fin, the rigid, darker blue spines that held it together.

An alarm shook Din out of his thoughts.

He stood. “I’ve got to make dinner and get everything set up for the night. Are you two good here?”

Luke held up a beach vocabulary board and pointed to Yes. Grogu squealed again, nodding vigorously.

“Try not to make too much of a mess,” Din said. He put two towels on the floor in front of the tub, which soaked up some of the water. He held back a sigh. Fighting mold was a constant battle, in a building so close to the ocean. Hopefully any mold-related damages wouldn’t get taken out of his paycheck, even if they were in the bathroom and therefore probably his fault.

Attending to his regular duties kept Din’s mind off the merman in his bathroom for a while. He stood outside long enough to get a sense of the weather, and reported it on the radio, then listened to the airwaves for a while to see if there were any nearby boaters that needed rescuing—an über-rare occurrence, on this island. He briefly entertained the idea of radioing in his “rescue” of Luke, but what would he say? “I found a merman”? Saying that would be a one-way ticket to a psych eval if not a hospital stay - in other words, losing this safe haven where he and his son lived. Besides, without the merman in front of him, the whole thing felt like a dream. A dream that left raw skin on his chest and arms. A dream he wouldn’t breathe a word about.

He walked around the perimeter of the lighthouse and the station house, noting down any damages that would need repair or repainting soon. Took inventory of foodstuffs—they were starting to run low, but a supply was due in a week, and they had the garden, as long as a storm didn’t take it out. Tended the garden—ripped out some kudzu that kept somehow finding its way onto this isolated island, squirted bugs off the rosemary with one of Grogu’s little water guns. Checked on the water filters, generators, and radio antenna. Luckily everything was in decent order in spite of a day of neglect.

The sun was well and truly set by the time that Din went back inside the station house and started making dinner—chicken fingers, Grogu’s favorite. After some hesitation, he threw some frozen fish sticks on the baking tray as well. Maybe Luke would eat them. Din hadn’t gone fishing in a few weeks; Grogu had had him working their way through a craft book Cara had brought them at the last supply drop, which didn’t leave a lot of time for much beyond his daily duties, time consuming as they were. If Luke wanted fresh fish, Din could go fishing tomorrow.

He stacked up three plates on his arms and brought them into the bathroom. Not a large bathroom to begin with, it was a crowded space between the adult, the kid, and the mermaid. Setting his own on the white marbled sink countertop, he handed a plate of chicken fingers and broccoli to Grogu and a plate of fish sticks to Luke.

“It’s fish,” he explained. “With breadcrumbs.” At Luke’s blank look, Din hastily explained, “Bread is, uh, it comes from grain, wheat, and so it’s kind of…like…well, it’s a carbohydrate. I dunno if you have those in…the ocean. Try it, and tell me if you can eat it, or if you need something else.” He sorted through Grogu’s communication boards scattered on the tile floor, and found one with ocean creatures, which he set on the rim of the bathtub.

Grogu turned his nose up at the broccoli with a huff.

“Come on, kid, you’ve gotta have vegetables.” Din was too tired to really argue the point tonight, but Grogu didn’t need to know that.

Luke reached one dripping hand out of the tub and pointed to the broccoli on Grogu’s plate, with an encouraging sort of Go on expression, nodding. The broccoli got a little damp at the touch of his pale finger. Din grimaced, sure that the salt water would ruin whatever little chance there was of getting the kid to eat his vegetables.

Grogu surprised him by digging in.

Din blinked.

Alright then. He’d keep slightly soggy in mind, on his list of ‘things that get Grogu to eat.’ Kids were mysterious creatures sometimes.

Din ate his own plate of chicken fingers and broccoli sitting on the closed toilet seat, watching the two of them interact. It was, of course, mostly silent, occasionally interspersed with one of Grogu’s noises like “ba!” Luke picked at his fishsticks (after scraping off the breading), Grogu picked at his chicken fingers. Their hands were pretty occupied with the boards. At this angle, he couldn’t see all that they pointed to, but he saw the fairytale board, ocean, and mythology. And home.

.

.

.

After they finished eating, Din cleared the plates, and let Grogu and Luke talk for another hour while he cleaned up and checked the weather again.

“Alright kid, bedtime.”

“Ba!” Grogu said angrily, his little face scrunched up. Din’s heart melted in spite of himself. 

“No, come on, it’s time for bed.”

Luke waved his hand for Grogu’s attention. Once he had it, he exaggeratedly stretched and yawned, then put his hands together and leaned his head against them, breathing big in, and out. If he was underwater, Din was sure that there would be enormous bubbles coming out of his mouth, adding to the effect.

Grogu giggled. Luke peeked with one eye and smiled, then went right back to it.

Din gathered up all the communication boards and knocked them up on the counter, making them into a neat stack. He grabbed Grogu’s hand.

“Come on, I’ll sing to you.”

Luke broke out of his acting and waved goodbye, flapping his hand.

“I’ll check on you before I go to bed,” Din promised over his shoulder. He left the door open a crack, so that Luke could hear them move around and know that he hadn’t been left in the house alone.

Luckily Grogu’s room had a bathroom attached to it, so he could still have a quick bath—the salt water he and Luke had been splashing in all evening didn’t count—and brush his teeth before bed. Din brushed his teeth beside Grogu, glad for once that he still kept his toothbrush on his nightstand instead of in the main bathroom, an old habit from more chaotic days.

Finally, Din got Grogu clean, dry, in pajamas, and tucked into bed with his favorite frog plushie.

Din knelt beside his bed with a groan, cursing old injuries and unstretched muscles. “Alright, kid, what do you want me to sing?”

Grogu made grabby hands for his device. Din pulled it off the charger and handed it over. Grogu navigated through the pages swiftly, before finally selecting, “Sun.”

“Alright.” Din cleared his throat, and began to sing. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me hap-py, when skies are gray.”

Grogu snuggled down in his blankets, clutching his favorite Froggie close to his chest, watching Din with absolute love and trust in his eyes. It made Din’s heart clench. Stars, he loved this kid. He would move heaven and earth for him. He had, when he’d rescued him. Although really, it was Din that had been rescued that day.

He reached a hand out and caressed the soft brown hair atop Grogu’s head. “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take, my sun-shine a-way.” He kissed his son’s forehead. “You all ready for sleep, big guy?”

Grogu squealed softly.

“Alright.” Din pressed his forehead to Grogu’s one last time as he took his device and set it on the bedside table, and turned out the light. “If you need anything, just yell.”

He closed the door softly, leaving just a crack to let light through.

Luke was waiting in the bathroom, arms folded on the rim of the bathtub, his head resting on top. He perked up when Din came in, but not much.

“How’s your, uh, oxygen?”

Luke gave a thumbs up.

“Tired?”

Luke nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” His muscles were certainly sore from lugging all that water and the merperson. He needed to work out more, probably. As busy as this job kept him, it didn’t maintain his physical fitness the way he used to. He’d let himself get…soft, as Grogu’s dad.

“You good for the night? Need any fresh water?”

Luke shook his head. Thankfully. Din didn’t particularly want to go out in the pitch dark. It would be hard to hold a flashlight and a full bucket at the same time.

“Can you write?” At Luke’s nod, Din took out a weather resistant notepad and pen and set them on the rim of the bathtub beside Luke’s head. “We’re expecting a supply run in a day or so. If you need anything, or want anything, I can radio shore and have it delivered then.”

The merman perked up. Thank you!!! he wrote, with three exclamation marks. Din huffed a laugh.

Luke wrote, head bowed, for a while. Din watched his golden hair, long dried except around his…gills, bounce softly, reflecting the overhead light. It was mesmerizing, like watching light bounce off of water.

When Luke held up the notepad again, Din had to shake himself a little to refocus.

Salmon

Oysters

Something soft to lay on the side

Something I can help you with, as payment for taking me in

Din blinked. “I don’t need you to help me with anything.”

Luke’s gaze was pleading. No: Begging.

Din shook his head. “Really. Most of my job you can’t help me with anyway; unless you can repaint the lighthouse or pull weeds.”

Luke frowned, his lip stuck out. Din couldn’t help having a little thrill at the sight. It was adorable.

“Really! I guess I could…” He really thought about it. He supposed…that the counter could use a little basket for his keys. One of Grogu’s favorites from the craft book was basket-weaving. He could show Luke how to do it, and thus keep them both occupied, and Luke could feel useful. “Do you know how to weave baskets?”

Luke nodded eagerly.

“I’ll collect some materials for you from the wildflower garden tomorrow. Grogu can help.” Din broke off with a yawn. “I’ll tell our supplier to get the rest of it. Sleep well.”

Luke pointed at Din and mimed sleeping, with his head on his hands, then nodded as if to say You too.

Din smiled and turned to go. He paused in the doorway with his hand on the light switch.

“On or off?”

Luke tilted his head, brow furrowed. To demonstrate, Din flicked the lights off, then back on. Then again, saying out loud which was which.

“Thumbs up, on. Thumbs down, off.” He showed how to do it as he spoke. Luke gave a thumbs down. “Lights off it is,” he said, turning them off. “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”

He left the door cracked open again and made his way up the stairs, stifling a yawn.

He wouldn’t be surprised if the bathroom was empty in the morning. Weirder things had happened.

Although, if he was honest with himself—no, weirder things hadn’t happened. Sure, he’d had some odd jobs in his old life, but none of it had involved the supernatural. No, it was all kingpins and businessmen and whistleblowers, hackers, grifters, thieves, and the occasional unopened suitcase. Once, on his last job, a child. Never a merman.

Well, this made two that he’d kept instead of killed. Two that he’d saved.

He’d definitely gone soft.

But he found…he didn't mind it.

[sainz100]

upcoming Carlos x chess content soon ❤️♟️✨

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

Hey Mom, Dead Mom

Chapter 2: No more playing daddy’s game, I’ll go insane if things don’t change

I suffered for this chapter. it was fighting me every single step of the way but it’s finally finished. I can rest now. this isn’t as dark as the last chapter but Cole is running away in this, so it’s still not very happy. also I did indeed make a couple of random ocs because how else was I supposed to advance the plot? they’re not returning any time soon. as always, this is cross posted to ao3

~

Cole got on the plane to MOSPA at exactly eleven in the morning on a Sunday. He traveled alone — Dad was unable to come with him. Other people at the airport gave strange looks to the unaccompanied twelve-year-old, reminding him of the looks he got after Mom died. “Oh, why is that little boy all alone? So strange,” and then they’d go about their day, not giving him a second thought.

The flight attendant in front of him right now was doing just that. “No parents?” She asked, face mildly concerned. 

Cole shook his head. “I’m going to visit my grandma, but Dad couldn’t come,” he lied. Cole was good at lying. He’d done it a lot these past few years; you couldn’t take care of yourself the way Cole had without at least some lying.

The attendant gave him a small smile. Maddy, her name tag read. “Well, if you need anything, just call.”

“Okay, thanks, Ms.”

Maddy nodded and continued walking, greeting the other passengers. Cole fidgeted in his seat. The fabric covering it was itchy and the seatbelt was too tight. The man sitting next to him scrolled through his phone, music blaring loudly, and the old lady behind him was snoring. Not even off the ground yet and this flight was already torture. Cole resisted the urge to groan.

It was only a two hour flight, Cole could do this. But he hated planes so much — always had. Not being on the ground made him feel ill, and every bit of turbulence was terrifying. At least he had the window seat, though that didn’t do much to soothe his nerves. Being able to see how high up he was might make Cole feel worse. 

The crackling of a speaker interrupted his panicking. The sounds it made were loud and screechy. “Please fasten your seatbelts and put all devices on airplane mode. We will be taking off shortly,” the announcements said. 

Finally. Cole dug through his backpack and found his book. Fish in a Tree, the title read. He’d found it at the school book sale but had never gotten around to reading it. Now was his chance.

He’d barely gotten past the first chapter before they took off. Cole actually felt it when they did — it was like getting severed from a part of him. He felt sick, though throwing up wouldn’t achieve anything. It would probably make him feel worse. Cole settled for putting the book down and staring blankly at the seat in front of him instead. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the book, or anything at all, not when his stomach was lurching so badly.

Just two hours, he told himself. Then I can collapse on a bed and sleep. He repeated those words over and over like a mantra. 

~

As it turned out, Cole was not able to immediately sleep once he arrived at MOSPA, because he had to check in. Check in, as if the school was a hotel. Or maybe a prison, which would be much more accurate.

“It’s great that you’re here, Nicholas,” the secretary smiled cheerily as she typed on her computer. “I’m sure you’ll love this school. We’re all one big family.”

Yeah, right. Every time a school said that they didn’t mean anything by it. In fact, it meant there was probably all sorts of bullying that went ignored. “It’s just Cole, not Nicholas. Nobody calls me that,” Cole said. He hated his full name — who agreed to let his grandfather pick it out? ‘Nicholas’ was an old-person name from at least a hundred years ago.

“Okay, then, Cole. I’ve got your dorm number and schedule here,” the secretary printed out a sheet of paper. “Do you need a map of the school?”

Cole shook his head. He had spent some of the flight looking at the floor plans and they were seared into his brain at this point. “I’ll be fine, thank you,” he hurried out before she could offer to have someone show him around. He didn’t want that kind of forced social interaction.

The dormitories were not hard to find, not with the giant sign that pointed to where they were. Cole opened the door, cursing when it was stuck, and shoved everything to the side before closing it again. He didn’t see a roommate anywhere, but it was a weekend, so everyone was probably out. That was good, it meant he had a couple hours alone; he could use the time to unpack and explore the school.

Cole shoved all his clothes into the closet and shoes under the bed. MOSPA had a strict uniform policy, so he wouldn’t be able to wear any casual clothing, nor his combat boots. That was a shame — he really liked those boots. They had served well when he got into fights. And they added another sorely needed three inches to his height, another advantage.

Any books that he’d brought were put onto the desk. Items such as stationery and notebooks were placed in drawers. Miscellaneous trinkets were placed in a box under the bed and his toiletries in another box. Cole pushed the suitcases into the corner. There wasn’t anywhere else to put them, but he’d figure it out later. Right now he wanted to take a nap and not wake up for a month. Screw exploring the school, he could do that tomorrow.

Cole closed the curtains, pulled the covers over his head, and went to sleep. 

~

MOSPA, as Cole found out in the span of a month, was its own special brand of hell. The students there hated Cole for always messing up and acting strange, as if grieving for a loved one was something to make fun of. The teachers hated him for not talking or making eye contact and always zoning out. Everybody seemed to agree that he was the weird kid who should be avoided at all costs. His roommate, a kid named John, disliked him enough that he asked to be put in a different dorm.

“Thanks for messing up again, Brookstone,” one of his classmates sneered. Brant Green, yet another asshole who existed to make Cole miserable. “You ruined the whole performance.”

It hadn’t been Cole’s fault. Another student had purposefully tripped him, causing him to fall and knock over several people. “Yeah, I did. What’s your point?” He tried not to flip off Brant. That would just cause more trouble, trouble he couldn’t risk. The teachers hated him enough already.

“How’d you even get into this school? I thought you needed to have talent to get in,” Brant spat. 

“Do I look like I want to be here? I hate this place,” Cole stood up and glared at the taller boy. Brant was a good head taller than him, unfortunately.

Brant didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Perhaps he’d thought Cole was going here willingly, though how he’d come to that conclusion was a mystery. He gave Cole another sneer and walked away.

Cole rolled his eyes and went back to his lunch. For all its faults, at least this school had good food. The chicken salad was pretty tasty.

A large group chattered next to him. One of them gave him the side eye. “That’s the Brookstone kid,” she said, loud enough for Cole to hear. “His dad’s a Royal Blacksmith. Isn’t it weird how he didn’t get any of the family talent?”

Cole scowled and looked down at the table. He stabbed his lunch with more force than was needed.

“Nicholas Brookstone to the office, Nicholas Brookstone to the office,” a speaker sounded. All eyes turned to him. Cole looked down at the floor and wondered if he could just die right there in the cafeteria. It would save everyone a lot of trouble.

A kid coughed from the table in front of him. Awkward, Cole thought. What had he done this time? There wasn’t anything recent he’d done to warrant this.

It took five minutes for the school to realise he wasn’t moving any time soon. They all went back to their conversations, and Cole snuck out the side entrance. He had always been good at going unnoticed.

Cole walked through the halls briskly and knocked on the office door. He was let in by the guidance counsellor, a lady in her forties with platinum blonde hair. “Nicholas, we need to talk about your behaviour,” she said as they sat down.

“I haven’t been in any more fights,” Cole said. It was true.

“Your teachers say that you don’t pay any attention in class and that you’re not following instructions. It has nothing to do with your peers.”

“I’m trying my best, okay?” Cole snapped. Why couldn’t anyone just listen for once? He was trying, he’d been trying for ages.

“Then how come your grades are so low? This is one of the top arts schools in Ninjago, Nicholas. We expect better.” The counsellor had a mask of false concern on. Cole kind of wanted to punch it off. 

“It’s not Nicholas, it’s Cole. And I am trying,” Cole gritted out. 

“Your grades are barely scraping fifty percent.”

“So?”

The counsellor frowned. “If you don’t start doing better, you may get expelled.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Cole said under his breath. Then to the counsellor, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” She might be suspicious of the sudden change of pace, but Cole couldn’t care less. He just wanted to get out of the office.

The counsellor nodded and fixed her glasses. “That’s all for today, Nicholas. You can go to class now.”

She didn’t even bother to get his name right. “Thanks,” Cole marched out the door.

~

Cole stared down at his exam results and wondered if he was dreaming. Forty percent average, the paper said. A fail. He’d managed to do so badly that his average wasn’t even fifty.

Dad’s going to kill me, he thought. Dad expected at least nineties, and this definitely wasn’t it. He’d be grounded until his thirtieth birthday, if he lived that long.

The only subject that had above sixty was visual arts. The teacher for that class was nice — he understood Cole’s struggles and gave him all the time he needed. It wouldn’t make Dad overlook all the other failures, though.

The paper crinkled under his grip. Cole blinked the tears out of his eyes and shoved the paper into his folder. His classmates were conversing all around him, comparing grades and bragging about what they’d gotten. The teacher sat at her desk on the computer. Nobody would notice if he went to the washroom and never returned, hopefully.

Cole got up and walked to the front. “Ms. Jackson, may I please go to the washroom?”

The teacher nodded distractedly and waved her hand. “Yes.”

Cole grabbed his belongings and slipped out the door. He hadn’t taken a hall pass, not when the teacher would notice it missing. She wouldn’t know he was gone, but she would notice the hall pass. The teachers here were strange like that.

He opened the door to his dorm and collapsed on the ground. How was he going to explain his grades to his dad, much less the teachers? He could already hear the lecture. “Your mother would be so disappointed in you, Cole. What happened to all that potential?”

Then again, Dad didn’t pay attention to him. Cole doubted he even remembered that he existed; Dad was too busy partying. Maybe he could burn the report card and pretend it didn’t exist.

Or… Cole’s thoughts drifted to a snide comment Brant had made a few months ago. “Why don’t you just run away? Nobody would miss you — we’d be happy to see you gone.”

Cole had ignored him at the time. It was just another uncreative insult from the stereotypical bully. But it wasn’t exactly a bad idea. As strict as the school was, Cole knew all the weak spots in its system. It was easy to sneak out and never return. And he’d been thinking about leaving and never coming back for ages. This was just the final straw.

“All right, then. Guess Brant gets his wish,” Cole said. No one responded, of course — he was all alone. But talking to himself was a habit. Cole got up and went to the closet, finding the duffel bag he used to use for camping. He blew the dust off and packed anything that seemed useful. A flashlight, multiple sets of clothes, a reusable water bottle, that box of granola bars he’d bought a month ago, all the cash he had.

More food would need to be picked up from the school cafeteria, he decided. And he’d need to find a sleeping bag somehow. But everything else was ready. Cole could leave during the night — he refused to call it running away, he wasn’t running from anything — it was easier that way. This was the best option, he told himself.

Cole snuck out as soon as it was dark. He didn’t need to avoid any roommates, thankfully — anyone who’d been placed with him had moved out. It took a few minutes for him to write a letter to Jay. His best friend didn’t deserve to have him disappearing without warning, though they hadn’t been best friends since before Mom’s death. He put it in the outgoing mail on the way out, sealed with a blue sticker. Jay would know what that meant.

He took the back exit and walked down the road to the bus stop. The city’s streets were dimly lit, people rushing past him to get home. A couple looked at him curiously but didn’t stop him. A drunk man sat down next to him on the bench as they waited. Dogs barked in the distance and a truck drove past. It was peaceful, Cole thought. The most peaceful he’d been in a while.

The bus arrived just after midnight. Cole got on and paid for a ticket to the next town over. He could find a sleeping bag and extra clothes there, and the further away he got the better. He was finally leaving MOSPA and his dad behind, and he wouldn’t be stopped by something as simple as not having basic supplies.

~

Running away wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. All the books made it seem easy — there was no mention of sleeping in alleys, or trying not to get mugged, or having to do odd jobs to get money. Thank goodness for Ninjago’s lax law enforcement; nobody would have hired a thirteen-year-old if the police were good at their job. Especially a thirteen-year-old who may or may not be on the missing persons list. Cole still wasn’t sure if anyone had noticed him missing.

Cole shouldered his backpack as he walked away from Jamanakai Village. He’d managed to find work at a local restaurant a few weeks prior and had finally saved up enough money to get somewhere else. He wasn’t quite sure where his next destination would be, but for now he planned to go back to the mountain range near Ninjago City. He deserved a break, and climbing was therapeutic. The city having a lot of people to pickpocket was just a bonus.

Jamanakai was isolated, unfortunately. It would be an entire day before Cole could get to a more urban area and find a bus stop. He knew there wasn’t a lot of point in travelling so often, of course, but Cole couldn’t shake the feeling that if he didn’t keep moving, someone would find him and bring him back to MOSPA. He couldn’t let that happen. And it kept his mind off of Mom and Dad. Nope, not thinking of that today, Cole thought. It was a good day and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

“Probably enough money for a ticket to Ninjago City,” Cole muttered. “Then it’s just some hitchhiking.”

Not a difficult journey, really. Cole continued on.

~

The mountain was tall. And windy. And probably dangerous to climb without proper gear. Cole tried not to think of that as he pulled himself up the next ledge. He’d already had a close calls today, almost fell off before he found a foothold. Cole thanked Wojira that he hadn’t fallen to his death. If he was going to die, he wanted it to at least be dignified.

Only a bit more to the top of the mountain and then he could rest. Cole planned to camp there for the night and then go back down, hopefully without any major injuries. The broken ankle  still ached, and it had been months. He hadn’t been able to walk for two weeks the last time, and Cole wasn’t eager to have a repeat.

Huffing and sweaty, Cole reached the top. He climbed over the last few rocks and stopped, feeling pretty proud of himself, when he noticed the man sitting in front of him.

“Hello there,” the man said. He looked ancient, with deep set wrinkles and a long white beard. He took a sip of his drink and smiled.

Okay, that’s creepy, Cole thought. He had thought he was the only one climbing. How had he not noticed this guy?

“Wha— who are you?” The words exited Cole’s mouth without permission. He really should work on his brain-to-mouth filter at some point.

“Maybe that is a question you should ask, but first: why do you climb the mountain?” The old man looked at Cole with something like curiosity. Curiosity about what?

“Because it’s a good way to get exercise?”

“You can tell me the truth, Cole. I don’t judge.”

“How do you know my name? I never introduced myself,” Cole took a step back. Was this man some sort of stalker? Nobody knew where he was. If he got kidnapped, or murdered, no one would be able to find him. 

“Because I know you, Cole. I was there when you were born.”

“You know my Dad? Are you going to bring me back to him? Give me another lecture on how I’m a disappointment? I don’t need to hear it,” Cole crossed his arms and prepared to make a run for it. It would be suicidal to jump off the mountain, but he was a fast climber. The old man wouldn’t be able to catch up with him.

“I knew your mother. She was one of my students,” the old man stood and held up his hands in the ‘I surrender’ gesture. 

“Student?”

“I taught her to be a hero. Did you think that all the stories she told you were made up?”

Cole hadn’t thought about his mom’s stories in years. She used to tell him about great heroes who could control the very elements themselves, who tamed dragons and fought against evil. He’d loved those stories.

“You’re telling me that all those stories about ninja and dragons were real? Yeah, and I’m a giant purple unicorn,” Cole glared at the old man. This guy had to be crazy, spouting nonsense about real-life superheroes and monsters. Mom had told him those stories for entertainment and bonding, nothing more.

“You are stubborn. Also like your mother, I suppose. I can prove to you that all the old legends are real. You just have to trust me,” the man held out his hand. His face was a mixture of hope and worry and maybe a little bit of fear. Fear of what, Cole didn’t know.

Cole hesitated for a moment. There was nothing left for him back at home, if he still had one, and no one cared if he went missing. The only people he cared about were either dead or better off without him. His life truly couldn’t get any worse, and if this man had known his mom he couldn’t be too bad. Cole took the hand.

[mists-reading-nook]

[one final Letter Event ask since it sounds like you're starting a new one!]

{A running theme in my asks is Genshin getting their hands on messages not written for them lmao, I like out of context bs.}

{Game and Cult AU! Crossover with DDLC Where the Creator is in a relationship w/ Monika <3}

-----------------------

(Yae Miko notices mail with a heart sticker as a seal in front of her that spontaneously appeared. How odd . . .

(What's even odder is that the letter—containing two papers—doesn't seem to be addressed to anyone or anywhere in Teyvat. A just an unnamed Literature Club.

(And it's signed by their Grace.)

~*~📚~*~

Dearest Monika

I'm sorry that I haven't been at the Literature Club lately, I've been busy with Teyvat and my own planet. School's been kicking my ass and I probably should've come asking you for help, sorry.

In the mean time I've read each and every one of the poems and books you've sent me and can't wait to talk about them to you in person.

While you wait for me, please accept my poem love.

From Your Beloved ♡♡

P.S. Let's practice the piano again next time we meet!

~*~📚~*~

The infinite welkin

The confined land

Gaia and Zeus beckon me towards their kin

But my ears soul and body give no thought

I love no children of the skies

I love not the offspring of nature

The woman of my devotion is ones and zeros

Birthed by union of metals and electric currents

Again and again my soul will sing

The only of a choir

Preforming for only her

Only for you

My most ethereal songbird

For you are mine

For I am yours

I love you Monika

~*~📚~*~

(The next thing she knew, s̴o̷m̴e̴t̶h̶i̵n̸g̶ ̸w̸a̶s̸ ̷i̵n̶ ̷f̴r̷ ̵n̴t̶ ̵o̵f̶ ̶h̶e̴r̸.̶ ̶S̸ ̵U̶A̵R̸E̸S̵ ̵O̴F̶ ̸C̷ ̴L̷ ̵R̶S̸ ̶I̴N̶V̴ ̸D̵ ̷D̸ ̸ ̵E̶R̸ ̵S̵I̴ ̶H̴T̵ ̵A̵N̵ ̴S̸ ̵R̷A̷I̶ ̶E̵D̴ ̶H̴E̴R̴ ̶E̶Y̴ ̸S̵,̵ ̵E̵R̶ ̷A̷T̵I̵C̸ ̵L̸L̸Y̴ ̶M̴O̷ ̷I̷ ̶G̶ ̸ ̵N̵D̷ ̸C̶H̸ ̴N̶G̶I̸ ̶G̸.̷ ̵C̴A̴C̸ ̷P̴H̴ ̵N̴Y̵ ̵G̷ ̵I̶N̴D̶ ̶D̷ ̴H̷E̷R̵ ̷E̶ ̵R̷S̴ ̶A̷N̵D̵ ̴U̷N̵ ̴E̶R̸ ̶I̵T̸ ̷A̶L̴ ̵W̸ ̸S̵ ̷T̵H̶ ̴S̶H̷ ̷P̶E̷ ̵O̵F̵ ̶A̸ ̴O̵U̶N̴G̵ ̵W̵ ̴M̴A̵N̵ ̵W̴I̴ ̶H̷ ̶B̷R̷ ̴W̵N̷ ̵A̶I̸R̶ ̷A̷N̷D̷ ̴F̸O̵R̶ ̴G̶N̵ ̷C̸L̶O̵T̸H̷ ̸S̴.̴ ̴T̷ ̶S̷T̷ ̴L̶E̸ ̶T̷ ̷E̵ ̶H̴O̷L̵ ̵ M̶ ̶S̵ ̷A̷G̵E̸ ̵ F̵R̵ ̶M̶ ̵H̴E̷R̵ ̴H̴A̴ ̸D̸S̵ ̴A̸N̸D̶ ̸V̷ ̶N̴i̷s̶h̸e̶d̴. All evidence of the Creator's favor to another world gone just like that.)

------------------------

{Corrupted text translation: something was in front of her. SQUARES OF COLOR INVADED HER SIGHT AND STRAINED HER EYES, ERRATICALLY MOVING AND CHANGING. CACOPHONY GRINDED HER EARS AND UNDER IT ALL WAS THE SHAPE OF A YOUNG WOMAN WITH BROWN HAIR AND FOREIGN CLOTHES. IT STILE THE HOLY MESSAGES FROM HER HANDS AND VANished}

{Now, Yae Miko knows that there's a Literature Club with the Creator's lover as a member, and somebody took the letters away from her, what does she do with this information?}

At first,she's quite amused by the whole interaction. The creator,having a lover? Quite interesting. She thought the poem was cute as well,and thinks it's sweet how close the two of you seem. As for your lover,"Monika" as you called her...

Yae would love to talk with her. Find out what this young woman did to capture the heart of the divine creator themselves. Yae wonders,maybe she could write a letter of her own to this Monika? Maybe she'll write one to you as well. It certainly wouldn't hurt to try...

Later that evening,she sits at her desk,looking at the blank paper. She decides to write to Monika first,as she was the one that originally caught Yae's interest.

Dear "Monika",

My name is Yae Miko,and earlier today,you took a letter that accidentally ended up in my care. I don't wish to intrude,but I read the letter,and I must say,you are a highly interesting individual. Tell me,how is it that you managed to catch the affections of the Divine Creator themselves? I'm quite interested in hearing how exactly you did it. Many vie for their graces love and attention,yet you seemed to have gotten it without having to do much. I'd love to hear about your methods. Do not worry,I am uninterested in their grace,I'm simply curious.

Now,about this "Literature club". I'm also very interested in hearing about it. What do you do there? From the letter,I can guess that you mostly write poetry,but i'm sure that isn't all that goes on. Is this club where you met thier grace? I have many questions for you,but for the sake of both our time,I will keep them to a minimum.

Do you and thier excellency often play piano together? I've never heard them speak of playing before,so I'm interested in hearing how well they play. Although I have no doubts of thier skill. We are talking about the divine creator after all. I hope to hear a response from you soon.

Sincerely,

Yae Miko,chief priestess of the Grand Narukami Shrine,Owner of Yae Publishing House.

Yae folds the paper,putting it into an envelope and placing it to the side. She begins to start on a letter to Their Grace,but before she can,the same squares of color appear in her vison,the same young woman appearing next to her. "There's no need to write a letter to them,I'll relay the message." Monika says with a sweet smile. Before Yae can day anyway in retaliation,Monika takes her letter and dissappears again. Yae blinks several times in suprise,before simply nodding. Alright then,I suppose I'll leave it to you... she thinks. Over in the literature club classroom,Monika is reading the letter with a slight smile. She supposes it wouldn't hurt if she sends a response...

***

And with this final letter,the letters from another world event is officially over!

I want to thank all that participated,I really couldn't have done it without you :]

I hope that you all enjoyed this event,and that you're ready for the next one! It'll be announced in a day or two,but for now,thank you for sending your letters in. I enjoyed reading them,as well as I enjoyed writing the responses.

~ Author & Mist

[fruitybashir]

Haven’t stopped thinking all week about Kris’s intentions for what he wants to do to Bojan when he gets him home. Will that part feature in the next chapter (*giggle)?

aaa im afraid ill have to disappoint on that part :D this chapter is very much pure fucking fluff and self growth and realisations etc <3

[justworthlessreblogs]

waffleverse is so amazing i just reread it today :)

youre an amazing writer!! thank you for feeding us rio content

i do my best o7 as always i'm very happy you enjoy the soup i serve you!

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: February 10

“Blues Run the Game” by Jackson C Frank

[wooyoungmybelovedhusband]

.

[non-un-topo]

Jesus.

[rosescries]

Alright, I'm gonna post something new in a few minutes since I was too damn furious to do it yesterday.

[stardustvanfleet]

this is what happens when i get too distracted by josh. wtf baby stop i’m supposed to be in your twin’s lane

[fireinmywoods]

I (a real creep who has been reading through your full tumblr backlog, nevermind that) see that approximately two years ago you were percolating on 7 WIPs. So, what's your WIP count today? Fewer? Or ... more?

Well, second of all, I don't know how to count, so jot that down.

But if you really want me to try, let's give it a shot:

There are the remaining three parts of septenary, each of which is really its own standalone story, mostly on the longer side. (These include the high school reunion fic and the, uh, "pollen" fic.)

There's Jim's prequel in pverse. (Long and full of Horrors.)

There's the prequel/sequel that goes from Academy years until post-palimpsest. (Even longer, though somewhat less dense with Horrors.)

There's the hateful STID fic and the Planet Q fic. (Both just absolutely brimming over with Horrors.)

There's the story I started writing for animetrashmuffin's birthday last year that god willing I will actually finish at some point before the heat death of the universe. (Fluffy! Not too long! Only moderate Horrors! WHY CAN'T I GET THAT LAST 10% DONE.)

There's at least one significant addition to the SIEL verse. (Ominous working title: moments.docx.)

There's a frothy, sexy honeymoon fic I mostly toy with when I need a mental break from the aforementioned Horrors. (Self-indulgent to the max. Zero Horrors, but unfortunately also no actual plot.)

Like I said, I can't count, but I'm pretty sure that's more than seven. And I swear to GOD I am actively working on all these in their turn, despite what the dates on some of the linked posts might suggest. Which one will be the next through the gate to get posted? Your guess is as good as mine.

[keyboard-cowgirl]

idk probably a good time to catch up/or refresh on my westworld fics: Aberrant Behavior and C.D. part 1, cause guess who just finished the last scene of part fucking 2?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37063396/chapters/92480044

[cherry-leclerc]

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment. 

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone. 

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true. 

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers. 

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma. 

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second. 

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver. 

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice. 

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.” 

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger. 

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was.  He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?” 

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

-

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom. 

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water. 

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy. 

He’s a man.

“What do you say?” 

“Sorry?” 

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

-

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.” 

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors. 

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance. 

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away. 

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

-

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy. 

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated. 

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.” 

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled. 

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.” 

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

-

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof. 

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of. 

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there. 

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours. 

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola. 

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts. 

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose. 

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped. 

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog. 

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret. 

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

-

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening. 

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes. 

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?” 

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice. 

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress. 

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound. 

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders. 

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back. 

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

-

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much. 

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable. 

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer. 

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND. 

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you. 

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

-

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.” 

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.” 

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally. 

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least. 

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct. 

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him. 

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough. 

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band. 

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing. 

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” 

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano. 

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips. 

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red. 

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry. 

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big.  “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once. 

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds. 

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure. 

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours. 

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle. 

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness. 

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end. 

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow. 

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual. 

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.” 

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?” 

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[hannieehaee]

BITE

18+ / mdi

summary: keeping appearances as an idol was already hard enough, but it becomes even worse upon finding a forlorn jeonghan with need of assistance with the company's faulty security system, instantly becoming endeared with the idol who refused to take no for an answer — not that you'd ever want him to.

content: idol!jeonghan x hybeidol!reader, f2l, meet-cute, very unrealistic schedules for idols lol, jeonghan is a menace, a lot of will they wont they, reader plays hard to get, afab reader, small age gap implied, one mention of the word oppa as a honorific (sorry</3), reader is mentioned to be international (no specific race, just not born in korea), smut, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 11.7k

a/n: this fic is based on this scenario, except i decided to expand on it and make it into a full fic!!

masterlist | patreon

"Hey, is that Yoon Jeonghan from Seventeen?", asked Minji as she patted your shoulder, finger pointing towards your right.

"Who?", you wondered, attempting to make sense of the distressed man standing in front of the main artist elevators in the building, "Oh, yeah, I think that's him," you said once you spotted his face, deeming it impossible to not recognize a face such as his.

"Why is he just standing there?", she wondered, holding onto your arm in the affectionate manner she usually did, "Do you think it's that elevator thing again?" she faced you to ask.

"What elevator thing?"

"Apparently he went on a variety show and complained about the company's security system. It was a whole controversy, but I guess the facial recognition doesn't work for him for some reason," she informed you before chuckling at the sight of Jeonghan sighing in defeat at yet another failed attempt at utilizing the aforementioned system, "I thought it was a bit, but I guess he was for real."

"Huh," you hummed, having been unaware of the issue. The system worked just fine for you and all your members, so you never had any motive to question it. Your senior, however, had clear issues with the system. Within the two minutes you had noticed his presence, he had already attempted the facial recognition three times, getting rejected every single one of them.

"You should help him," your groupmate suggested, "I would, but my manager will be here soon for my shoot. You only have rehearsals today, right? You're heading that way anyway."

"What? No!" you declined, "I always get anxious around our seniors. I've never even met him," you added, far too shy to even face the pretty boy during his predicament.

Disconnecting from you, she grabbed onto your shoulders, scolding you, "Dude, just go help him! This is how you make connections. You give him a hand and then he gives you one back," she said, physically turning you around so you could face his direction, hands still on your shoulders, "Go! My ride's probably already here anyways. Good luck," she encouraged as she pushed you forward, making you absentmindedly begin walking towards the boy.

Taking a breath, you began to walk towards the boy who seemed to grow more and more frustrated at the faulty security system. The closer you got, the more you could hear his whines in complaint. It appeared that he had taken up a phone call during the time you'd been talking to your friend, frustratedly arguing with whoever was on the other line.

"Seokminnie, c'mon! Just come down! I'll buy you soju after practice," he whined, groaning at whatever response his groupmate had given him in return, "My manager already left ... Yeah .... No! Stop! Just come down! I'm your senior and- Wait! Don't hang up!", he groaned at last upon hearing the classic sound of a disconnected line invade his ears.

It was only then that he seemed to notice your presence, widening his eyes momentarily before offering you a brief bow to acknowledge your presence. Moving aside, he gave you enough space to stand in front of the elevator, quietly awaiting for you to utilize the security system, likely assuming you had not heard his prior predicament. He gestured for you to move forward, acting as if he were being a gentleman in allowing you to go first.

You approached the small facial recognition screen, about to scan your face before turning to him, finding the boy staring at you expectantly, "You need me in order to use the elevator, don't you?", you asked him, amused.

"Huh?", he gaped at you, tsk'ing afterward and making an odd 'Eyyy' sound, "I'm just being a gentleman. Go ahead," he gave you a tight yet amused smile.

You chuckled in return, "Liar," you were surprised at how easy it was to be informal with him, but he was immediately likable, "Ask me to help you and maybe I might," you added, giving him a satisfied smile.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I'm your senior — Whatever happened to respect?", he joked, tsk'ing at you once more. He proceeded to walk towards you, pushing his face onto the scanner and ignoring your presence altogether, "I'll do it, see," he practically challenged, attempting the scanner once more.

Unsurprisingly, he was met with a red X and a beeping sound that indicated yet another failure to be recognized by the system. This caused him to stand there in silence for a few seconds before whining 'Yah!' and cursing out the security system.

Clearing his throat, he straightened up again, facing you once more, "Sorry about that. Your turn," he gestured to you to move forward again, stepping out of your way.

Both amused and surprised, you decided to finally utilize the scanner on yourself, smiling at him with a satisfied look when it immediately allowed you in. Turning to him, you nodded at him to get in before you, only for him to gesture for you to go first. Something about 'ladies first.'

"You owe me one," you said once you were both in the elevator again, standing side by side as you faced the closing door.

"Nuh-uh. This was just a coincidence. You needed to head upstairs anyways," he rebutted petulantly.

"Yeah? So you don't need me to help you get to your floor, then, right?", you questioned mockingly, knowing he would also have to work the scanner in order to get the door to open to Seventeen's designated floor. There were far too many steps to get to the artists' floors, but it made sense to you by now.

Upon the realization, he groaned, letting himself throw his head back against the wall behind him as he earned a giggle from you. He frowned in your direction at your laugh, though he joined you with a chuckle just mere seconds later.

"Okay, fine. I owe you," he gave up, still leaning against the wall behind but turning his head to look at you, "What can Yoon Jeonghan do for you?"

You pretended to mull over it for a few seconds, finger on your chin as you thought it over, "I have no idea. I'll let you know," you finally responded, "Okay, so, what floor?", you asked as your finger moved to the buttons on the elevator door.

"13th," he responded, now casually leaning back against the wall.

"Oh? The second highest floor. You're an important man, aren't you?", you teased, pressing his button before moving onto your group's number 9.

"Nine?," he gaped, "Seems I'm higher on the company hierarchy than you, yet you show me no respect," he joked back.

"Shut up. I'm going out of my way for you. Senior or not, you owe me. Those are the rules of all civilized society," you argued back.

"Okay, how about," he began, pressing his hands together as if making a proposition, "I see you downstairs every morning bright and early with a fresh cup of coffee in exchange for your face — y'know, for the scanner. How's that sound?", he proposed, a pleased smile on his face at your agape mouth.

"Every morning? Do you not have any friends?", you asked as the elevator continued to move up.

"Do you see anyone here? They all get here before me. You seem pretty friendless. C'mon. Free coffee, good company. I'll even play one of your group's songs in my next Welive. See? Can't get any better than that," he continued to sell his idea as the elevator came to a stop, now at his floor but demanding yet another facial scan to even exit the elevator.

"God, the security's too much," he groaned upon noticing the prompt on the small screen inside the elevator, "C'mon!", he turned to you, "Try to tell me that's not unnecessary."

You gave up, nodding as you chuckled, though not making a move to scan your face.

"Say yes. Please," he dragged the e for an annoyingly long amount of time, grinning when you rolled your eyes but laughed, "I'll keep going. Just agree. What better way to spend your time than with Yoon Jeonghan?"

"What makes you think I even knew that name before today?", you challenged.

"You do. Don't lie to me, it won't work," he smirked back before going back to being annoying again, "Come on-"

"Fine! I'll meet you downstairs every morning expecting a fresh matcha in hand — I don't drink coffee. But you still owe me," you agreed, extending your hand to him to solidify the agreement.

"No coffee? Ew. But okay, deal," he returned your handshake, holding onto your hand for an annoying amount of time, pretending as if he were unaware of when to let go and waiting for you to pull his hand off yours with another eye roll. He chuckled any time he managed to get a reaction out of you, leading you to realize he must be an absolute menace to every person he comes across. Sadly, he was charmingly entertaining, leaving you with no complaints.

Finally, you scanned your face on the screen, letting him walk in front of you to head out. Before the elevator doors could close and separate again, he held his arm out to stop them, nodding towards you.

"What's your name? I like you," he said plainly, head tilted in curiosity.

"Y/N," you said, "Please don't introduce yourself again-"

"Yoon Jeonghan," he interrupted anyways, "Remember that. We'll be having fun in the near future," were his last words before removing his hand and allowing the elevator doors to separate you, likely heading over to his groupmates upon leaving your line of sight.

Silver doors closed in front of you, now leaving you to your own company. Dumbfounded yet amused by the interaction, you stood there as you waited for the elevator to arrive to your floor, robotically scanning your face on the door once you made it there and exiting the square-shaped room upon arrival. There, you stood with the remnant of a shocked smile on your face, surprised at how easy it had been to put any concept of age or seniority aside when interacting with Yoon Jeonghan. While you always had the tendency of being overly formal with your seniors, you had spoken to Jeonghan like you would any guy your age, disregarding formalities as soon as he'd spoken to you.

You didn't truly need any convincing to agree to see him again. On the contrary, had he not suggested as such, you would've remained with an itch to find a reason for a re-encounter. Like any other junior idol at a company with big names such as BTS and Seventeen, developing a slight crush on your seniors was the normalcy — your groupmates Minji and Lila had crushes on BTS' V and Seventeen's Vernon, respectively — and it appeared that you were now joining them in the list of girls with unrequited crushes.

Jeonghan was, what, maybe five or so years older than you? The age difference alone was enough for you to chalk this up to a mindless crush. That, and the kindergarten teacher voice he had put on while speaking to you — clearly he made a very obvious distinction about your age difference right off the bat.

As of now, all you could do was hope to see him again (which, thankfully, you would) and retain the fun back and forth he'd welcomed you in on. Friendzone was one thing, but junior-zone? At least you now had a story to let your members in on next dance practice.

"Hey, it's you again."

"God, announce yourself next time," you groaned, hand clutching your heart at the short-lived shock of Yoon Jeonghan suddenly bumping your shoulder whilst walking down one of the many endless hallways of the Hybe building.

"I said 'hey,'" he shrugged, continuing to walk by your side, "So, where are we going?"

"Who's 'we,'" you scoffed, "I'm going to buy lunch," you said, continuing to walk as he remained by your side.

"Great, I was thinking of getting something to eat too," he agreed, humming to himself afterwards.

"Okay, so I guess we're having lunch together, then," you hummed back, resigned to your senior's company.

"You catch on quickly, I like that," he gave you a closed-lip grin, "We're going to be seeing each other quite often, might as well start now."

Crossing the doors to the cafeteria, you headed to the lunch area to pick up something to eat, Jeonghan following right behind you and annoyingly picking out the same exact lunch as you, piece by piece. You simply looked back at him with a menacing stare, only causing a bigger grin out of him. Once you made it to the cashier area, your hand made its way to your bag with the intent to pull out your card only to be stopped by one Yoon Jeonghan who had been quicker to scan his own. You had had no plans of preventing him from buying his own meal, but you had also not expected him to pay for your own.

"Wait, you don't have to-"

"Too late," he grinned, walking past you before looking over his shoulder and nodding at you to follow him.

Heading over to a two-seater table, you followed him, taking a seat right across from him. The place was empty sans another duo of two idols eating on the opposite side of the large cafeteria, so you didn't feel too strange at the idea of being spotted with a senior idol.

Sitting across from him, you took note of how lax and confident his demeanor was. It must be nice, you thought. It was quite the opposite for you, especially considering the dynamic between you. This wad a first for you — the whole sharing a meal with a senior from one of the groups that inspired you to become an idol in the first place. You had interacted with some of your seniors before, but you had not had the chance of befriending any of them thus far, much less grab their attention in the same way you had caught Jeonghan's.

It made you feel anxious to be one-on-one with him in such an exposed setting. You knew that within the walls of Hybe, interacting with idols was not seen as odd nor would it lead to any sort of scandal, but you also worried that it might seem strange due to your gender and age difference. However, Jeonghan somehow managed to make you feel more relaxed and less proper than you likely would with any other idol.

"What are you thinking about?" he nodded at you as he sipped at his water, interrupting your thoughts.

"Nothing," you replied, beginning to pay mind to the food in front of you, "You didn't have to pay for my meal, by the way."

"You're clearly thinking about something. I can hear those thoughts cooking in there all the way from here," he chuckled, " — and I'm a gentleman and your senior, of course I had to pay," he shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing.

"Don't you have friends?", you asked bluntly, forking at your meal as he snickered at you.

"This is the second time you come after my social life, okay ... Ignoring your disrespect, I do have friends. Twelve of them, actually, maybe even more," he informs you in a 'ha, told you so!' type of tone.

Now was your turn to laugh, unable to take him too seriously, "So, does their facial recognition not work either? Are you so annoying they won't share a meal with you?," you tilted your head mockingly.

"You're better company," he shrugged at you, "Not sure how I never noticed you before, but hey, never too late, right?"

"You barely know me," you grumbled.

"Yeah, and I'm working on that. Keep up!", he chastised, tapping the table.

"You're gonna get me into a scandal for hanging out with me so shamelessly," you reminded him, but made no attempt to leave the situation.

"Who's going to see us?", he looked around, spotting the two other people (sans staff) in the room, "Hanjin from TWS? That's my junior, he'd never say a word. Plus, this is just innocent senior-junior fraternizing, don't worry too much," he tsk'd, leaning back against his seat in a relaxed manner once more.

"You're too relaxed for your own good. How have you never been in a scandal before?", you gaped at him, swatting his hand when his hand made its way to your plate, grabbing at a fry, "Are you like this with all your juniors?"

"Oh? You've been keeping up with me? How do you know im scandal-less? And nope, I already told you — I like you."

"Is it surprising to you that I'd keep up with one of the biggest groups in Kpop?," you feigned disinterest, "Okay, if you like me so much, can I drop the honorifics, then?", you tried, matching the amused grin he gave you.

"Hmm," he pondered for a moment, "I'll let you speak to me informally if you make a compromise with me," he paused, waiting for you to nod for him to continue, "I want you to call me oppa," he grinned.

His shit-eating grin reached all the way to his ears, making you scowl at him. Due to your age difference and the overall senior-junior dynamic of your relationship, it was not an ordinary request for a senior to ask you to call him oppa, thus causing his amusement at his own request. Usually, you'd call seniors like him sunbae or by their full name considering that you were nowhere close enough to him to call him oppa, but his grin told you that he'd be far too pleased to have you calling him by that honorific rather than a more formal alternative.

"No," you deadpanned, "Anything else, just-"

"Fine. Since we're officially friends now, you can call me what all my friends call me; Jeonghannie — Hannie if you're feeling particularly friendly," he continued grinning at you with a pleased look in his eye.

"Hold on, since when are we friends?", you chuckled slapping his hand away from your plate once more, "God! Was there any point in buying my meal if you're just gonna keep eating from it?", you groaned, not truly annoyed but still bugged by the man.

"You've got a short fuse," he noted, "That only makes this even more fun, you realize that, right?" he said as he chewed on what were formerly your fries.

"You're going to be trouble for me at some point, aren't you?", you wondered out loud, chuckling at how pleased he was.

"No, you are — trust me," he said almost to himself.

God damn him, was he flirting with you? Throughout the past few hours of knowing him, you'd been pretty sure he just enjoyed banter by nature, not that he was just singling you out in order to flirt with you. Maybe he was just a flirtatious person by nature? Regardless, your original statement was correct — he was going to cause you trouble one way or another.

Unfortunately to all, the rest of your day was not nearly as eventful as the first few hours (courtesy of Yoon Jeonghan). Leaving the artist designated floors did not require face-scanning, so your duties for the man ended quickly after your lunch together.

For the remainder of the day, you engaged in your diligent idol duties as you practiced and recorded with your groupmates. You'd hoped to catch another glimpse of the flirtatious boy who had caught your attention earlier, but you went home without any more contact. You would've been disheartened by this had you not known he'd be waiting for you by the elevators the following morning.

You had chosen not to tell your bandmates about your interactions with Jeonghan. Although he had been right about you being safe to interact with each other inside the walls of Hybe, you were only on your first year after debut, so the paranoia of insisting your first scandal was far too big to risk anything. Still, you were not about to actually deny him of more time spent together; you'd grown to enjoy his company too much for that.

In your seemingly endless train of thought, you're startled by the sudden presence next to you as you stand by the Hybe elevators. You'd arrived at the same time you had yesterday, assuming Jeonghan would also be present as he was the day prior. After waiting for ten minutes, you were rewarded with another mini heart attack caused by him.

"You're kinda skittish, aren't you?", he laughed, hand giving you a pat on the shoulder as a form of greeting, "Waited for me long?"

"Nope," you responded, turning to look at him, finding him holding two cups on a single, strangely large hand, "Is that my matcha?", you asked, hand reaching out to grab it from him only to be met with resistance from the boy.

"Aht aht," he chastised, "No 'good morning'? No 'you look really handsome today, oppa'? Where did your manners go?", he bit his lip in amusement at himself (and likely at the scowl that formed on your face).

"Yoon Jeonghan, if you don't give me that damn drink I'm leaving you stranded down here," you threatened, snatching the drink from his hand and sipping it with annoyance.

"You wouldn't," he mocked, "Anyways, go on," he gestured for you to step forward in order to scan your face, raising his eyebrows when you didn't make a move to help, "I can get even more annoying," he threatened.

"Fine," you grumbled, scanning your face and stepping into the elevator.

Once settled inside the small box, Jeonghan stood next to you, taking micro side steps in order for his shoulder to brush against yours. When that didn't get your attention, he opted to clear his throat, chuckling at the glimpse of an eye roll he got from where he was standing. As a last effort, his shoulder bumped yours in a more notorious way, finally grabbing your annoyed attention.

"What?," you hissed.

"Okay, first of all, let's calm down. Second of all, I need your face for a little longer today," he winced at your reaction, "I know, I know, but you promised," he reminded you.

"I never promised anything," you scowled, although interested in the idea of seeing him outside of the elevator again, "What do you want?"

"Just need to stop by to see Mingyu in floor 11 for a few minutes — Mingyu, you know him, right? All your friends are probably crushing on him, everyone is. Anyways, it'll be just five minutes and then I'll leave you alone," he went on, hand on your shoulder as he gave you those gigantic and irresistible bug eyes of his.

"What if I'm busy?", you asked, knowing you truly weren't.

"You're not. Senior or not, you would've already told me to fuck myself if I were getting in the way of your work," he said with confidence.

"Fine," you sighed as you dragged out the e, pressing the correct button in order to take Jeonghan to his destination. The elevator ride was short but taken up by Jeonghan making short quips in order to make you laugh. Unfortunately, he was too naturally charismatic for his own good.

Finally stopping at the correct floor, Jeonghan got off the elevator while you remained inside, thinking that maybe it was a good idea to just wait for him in there. This wasn't a common hour for other idols to head in or out of the building anyway, so the elevators would likely remain unused while you waited.

Jeonghan had a different idea, however, standing at the entrance of the elevator as he looked back at you expectantly, nodding his head for you to follow him. When you silently shook your head at him, he groaned annoyingly, reaching to grab onto your hand and pull you to him.

"If you wanted me to hold your hand so badly you could've just said so," he mocked, squeezing it as he pulled you to him. You attempted to let go of his hand, but his grip was too harsh. It's not that you didn't want to hold it, but more like you were too nervous to do so, which he likely caught on to but didn't care for.

"What, scared someone will see us?", he snickered, "Would it be that terrible to be spotted holding hands with me? I'd be the best dating scandal of your life," he giggled, voice growing louder when you laughed along with him, "Oh! A smile? So you do like me, huh?"

"God, are you this flirty with everyone?", you groaned, squeezing his hand extra hard until he winced, giggling at your attempt to harm him.

"You're just fun to rile up," he confessed, leading you to a door you'd never seen before, "This is a shared studio a few Seventeen members use. Ever met any of them?", he asked as he stopped in front of the door, still not letting go of your hand.

"Am I meeting them now?", your eyes widened, "We did a dance challenge with Seungkwan and Vernon, but that's it," you revealed, using the correct honorifics for both that you did not use for Jeonghan.

"So formal. Cute," he snickered, "Well, you're about to meet a few more. Don't be nervous," he started, "If you're able to keep up with me, they'll like you. You're hard not to like," he smiled in a comforting way, not snickering at you for the first time ever.

Before you could respond, the door opened from the other side, revealing who you knew to be Boo Seungkwan of Seventeen with an annoyed scowl on his face, only dropping it upon seeing you.

"Yah! Yoon Jeongha- Oh, hi!", he interrupted himself halfway through his nagging as soon as he saw you, eyes going from Jeonghan's to yours to your interlocked hands, causing his head to tilt in curiosity, "We've met, right?," he bowed, uttering your name and offering you a smile, "Are you holding her hostage?", he asked towards Jeonghan, noting his tight grip on your hand.

"This is my new friend," Jeonghan introduced you despite Seungkwan having already said your name, gesturing towards your interlocked hands, "She's helping me out lately."

Without further explanation, Seungkwan moved aside in order to let the two of you in. Throughout it all, Jeonghan refused to let go of your hand, toying with your fingers at times. Inside were three more members who you could recognize to be Kim Mingyu, Jeon Wonwoo and Lee Jihoon. As a fresh junior in the company, the name of every single senior was common knowledge to you. Not only was Seventeen a huge name in the industry, but they were one of the biggest names within the company itself. You'd also spotted their loud interactions throughout the building a few times in the past.

— This was one of the reasons as to why your heart began going a mile a minute the moment you walked in to the room to find the three men (along with Jeonghan and Seungkwan) staring at you with a curious look in their eye.

Bowing at every member, you meep'd out a quick 'hello' and stalked behind Jeonghan, who only chuckled at your shy demeanor, "Don't be shy. They don't bite," he squeezed your hand.

"Uh, Jeonghan? Do you have a hostage?", asked Wonwoo, reaching out to you to shake your free hand in introduction, "Hi, I'm Wonwoo. Sorry about him," he gestured towards Jeonghan with a chuckle.

"Your emotional support toys weren't enough? Upgraded to a human now?", Mingyu joined in, also offering you a handshake, "I saw your group's last comeback. Great job," he praised, offering you a genuine smile.

Jihoon remained silent as he sat with his eyes glued to his equipment, simply humming and nodding along to every statement leaving their lips. He seemed slightly disinterested, but not rude about it. Jihoon appeared more so amused by Jeonghan's shenanigans, not questioning your presence whilst remaining welcoming of it.

"I'm just here to record my part. Jihoon's been nagging me for a week," he whined, moving to drop himself on the couch and pulling you along with him by the hand. Your interlocked hands began to become clammy, but Jeonghan made no move nor mention to fix that, so you simply ignored it too.

"You're mean," said Wonwoo, "Be mindful of your junior, she looks nervous," he scolded lightheartedly, "You okay? Want a water or something? Did he just steal you or is there a story behind this?", he nodded towards your hands, voice soothing your nerves.

They were all overly likable, which made sense considering their decade-long career as idols. Their fan service must be amazing, you thought to yourself.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan interrupted, "I'm borrowing her face for the scanner in the artists' elevator," he explained, "It's an exchange of goods and services, no hostages here," he nodded to himself, "And we're new best friends, clearly," he grinned as he gestured to your hands, squeezing once again.

Seungkwan chuckled, "There'd be no need for that if you just rode with me in the mornings," he rolled his eyes, taking a seat to the other side of you on the couch.

"You get up at four in the morning, I'm not insane," whined Jeonghan, "and this way I get to hang out with my new friend. Win-win."

You gave a tight-lipped smile in response, rolling your eyes at him and earning a chuckle from the other boys in the room.

"You're going to have to let go of her hand to go into the recording room," Jihoon spoke up, turning around on his chair to look at Jeonghan on the couch and chuckling lowly when his reaction was an exaggerated groan.

"I take what I said back; you are a hostage. Don't leave, I'll be right back," he turned to you before heading over to the small recording room located inside the studio.

Laughing, you nodded, settling comfortably on the couch as you watched him from your spot. The other two men who remained standing made their way to the couch sitting near you as Wonwoo handed you a cold water bottle with a smile. Meanwhile, you watched Jeonghan head into the room, making his way to the mic and putting on the large headphones hanging nearby.

With a few coughs to clear his throat, he began harmonizing with the melody Jihoon turned on as soon as he stepped foot in the small room. Jeonghan's voice immediately flowed perfectly with the music, following Jihoon's directions to perfection as he recorded the lines instructed to him. You were completely distracted by the sight of him in his element that you were unable to pay attention to your surroundings. There were no nerves in you at your current predicament when you were so absorbed by him.

But as soon as he started singing, he finished, letting out another loud cough before exiting the room and making his way to your side again, practically demanding your hand once more.

"They were right," he nodded once you gave him your hand, looking down at you from your seat on the couch, "You're my new emotional support object, sorry," he shrugged, helping you up by pulling at your hand.

With goodbyes as quick as your introduction had been, Jeonghan led you to the door before being interrupted by Jihoon speaking up, "Bring her around more often. You were way more efficient and less annoying this time," he hummed to himself, laughing when Seungkwan began to laugh at his statement. Before you could leave, Seungkwan offered you a hug, though your hand remained on Jeonghan's.

Once in the hallway, Jeonghan turned to you and laughed, "They like you," he sing-sang, "Guess I get to keep you around."

"Is it up to me at all?", you huffed half-heartedly.

"Nope. Let's go," he grinned once more, pulling another laugh from you.

Jeonghan's shenanigans and your daily meetings every morning continued very consistently. It was rare when you'd show up at the elevators at the exact same agreed time and not find him there waiting for you with a drink in hand.

Your interactions only grew more and more friendly with time, with you rolling your eyes at him time and time again and him insisting on dragging you with him for other errands every so often. Fortunately, the news of you two being on friendly terms did not seem to go past a few other idols in the building. Strangely enough, it was rare to actually bump into other artists in the vast space that Hybe covered.

Only a few weeks into knowing Jeonghan and the annual Hybe Game Caterers event came up. This was something he brought up occasionally whilst sharing an elevator ride with you — and even through text every so often, as he had charmed you for your phone number just a few days in.

Being Hybe's newest group, you couldn't help the nerves you felt in appearing at Hybe's second ever Game Caterers event. With big names such as Seventeen, BTS, TXT and such, you felt completely out of your league even being present. You knew it was an amazing opportunity to get new audiences interested in your group, but you barely knew any other groups or idols on a personal level. It wasn't as if you could stalk behind Jeonghan during the event, which meant you'd simply have to rely on your own charm in order to gain some screen time.

Jeonghan, in the meantime, insisted you team up with him in any games that may allow for it. Despite your insistence that he pretend not to know you during the event, he'd cackle and promise he'd make sure to gift you some of his own screen time — how? he didn't explain, which made you even more anxious at the idea.

Once the day of the games came, you felt far more relaxed. This was your first time seeing such popular faces so up close, not having had the chance to attend any comeback shows nor award shows at the same time as the bigger names in Kpop. However, despite all nerves you could've felt, they were all far too charismatic, making you realize that Jeonghan's personality was simply an outlier; he had his own charm, but overall he was a menace to your sanity.

He continued to prove this to you throughout the event, constantly keeping his eyes on you and winking any time it was his turn to do something that might entertain you. Unfortunately for yourself, it worked every time, making you cackle at all his dumb acts for your attention.

That was not where he stopped, however. It seemed as if Jeonghan wanted people to know he was seeking out reactions from you. Occasionally, he'd walk over to your group's table, sitting with you all too casually, earning some nervous giggles from your group mates. He played this out by dragging Seungkwan with him and hitting a few other tables afterward. However, you knew his goal had been to be in close proximity with you.

The worst of all had been when teams were assigned randomly, in which Jeonghan had somehow managed to cheat in order to be placed in your team. You were unsure how exactly he had managed to do this, but from your understanding it seemed like his groupmate, Joshua, had gotten assigned to your team, only to be nagged into giving away his spot to Jeonghan.

And so now you stood in a single file line with a red vest laying on your chest, matching with that of Yoon Jeonghan's, who was standing right behind you with a pleased smile on his face.

"Jeonghan," you groaned, turning around to finally acknowledge his presence.

"What?", he feigned dumb, doing his classic cackle at your annoyed expression.

"You really want to ruin my career, don't you?", you scowled, squinting your eyes over the heavy sun shining from behind Jeonghan.

Detecting your discomfort from the sun, Jeonghan grabbed onto your shoulders, side stepping the two of you until it hit his face rather than yours. No word is uttered about his act of kindness as he continued to grin at you in a satisfied manner.

"I'm helping you, c'mon," he tsk'd, "Ever watched Going Seventeen? Well— Okay, don't make that face, I know you've seen it, all of Korea has seen it. I can win you any game and get you all the screen time possible," he held his pinky up to you, nudging you until you budged and intertwined yours with his own, "Then you'll be, uh, what are you, fourth gen?," he waited for your reluctant nod, "Okay, you'll be fourth gen's It Girl," his hand went up to ruffle your hair, earning something akin to a growl from you, "We'll be the inter-generational It Couple."

"Couple?," you tilted your head in wonder, "You're an idiot," you murmured, having a hard time hiding your smile at his masterplan.

"It was bound to happen. This whole 'will they won't they' thing we have going on is too good to pass up on," he continued, "C'mon, let's use today as a test-run," he insisted, earning another annoyed reaction from you, this time in the form of a half-hearted fist bump. With one last 'Eyyy' from him, he turned back around to pay attention to the rules of the following game.

Various games came and went, with some being in co-ed groups and others within your already-established groups, but with all of them (without fail) involving some sort of interaction between you and Jeonghan. Continuously aware of the cameras recording, you worried about how your constant interactions would be taken by audiences once the show was edited and posted, but his easy-going disposition made it difficult for you to actually do anything about it.

By the time the recording was over, Jeonghan had made it clear to all his members and yours (and anyone who was paying attention, really) that he had some sort of interest in you. No words nor statements had been needed as his actions made his intentions extremely obvious. You'd received a few teasing glances from his group mates at times (though you were sure they were probably meant for the man in question), making you shy away from Jeonghan, but he never strayed away for too long.

The aftermath of the show was different for everyone involved. Some groups left for other schedules while others went out for a meal with a few staff members. Then there was Jeonghan, who had decided to skip out on a meal with his friends and staff in order to stalk after you and your own group, not saying a word as he followed you to the entrance of Hybe, disregarding any teasing giggles coming from your groupmates. You'd occasionally look back at him, rolling your eyes at him as you held back an entertained smile.

Even as you got into the elevator, he silently followed with a pleased smile, still not speaking a word to justify his presence. It wasn't until your groupmates got off the elevator that Jeonghan actively tried to catch your attention by physically holding you back from exiting the elevator, waving your friends goodbye for you as the doors closed behind them.

With his arms wrapped around your middle, he practically bear-hugged you in order to keep you from leaving, laughing when you half-heartedly attempted to make it out of his hold in order to escape.

"You don't really wanna leave, stop fighting it," he whined, letting you go when you finally halted your attempts, groaning jokingly at his victory.

"Why'd you kidnap me this time?", you asked once you turned around to face him.

He shrugged, "I dunno. Company? Take us to my floor. I have some ramen and beer stashed away in the dressing room," he coerced, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"You're bribing me with food again," you noted, crossing your arms as you pretended to mull it over.

"Well, it appears like that's the only way to get you to hang out with me," he booped your nose, giggling when you scowled at him.

"You have that hard of a time getting girls to give you attention?"

"Hah," he exclaimed, "Girls love me. Not my fault the one I'm into needs to be coerced into spending time with me," he said as the most casual statement uttered by man.

He appeared entirely unaffected by his statement, as if this was not news to you. His flirting had gotten more and more blatant throughout the short time you'd known him, but he had never professed his affections so blatantly. It made sense for him to be so forward now that he had shown everyone his clear interest in you, but having the words said to your face still made you lose your breath for a short moment.

"Ah, speechless, huh?", he grinned, "You can't tell me this comes as a surprise to you," he tilted his head to the side in curiosity, "You're a smart girl, c'mon," he took a few short steps to you, hand coming to push your hair out of your face as you continued to stare at him with a semi-shocked look in your face.

Still inside a closed, yet unmoving elevator, you smacked his hand away in a friendly yet bratty matter, making him chuckle, "Stop, you're gonna get me in trouble," you complained.

Stepping even closer to you, he backed you against a wall, the grin on his face never leaving him. Meanwhile, your brain was overriding itself in figuring out how to react. You let him back you against the wall whilst his hands remained to his sides, not actually caging you and allowing you escape if you really wished for it. Leaning down a bit, he stood face to face with you, once again pushing your hair out of your face before running a lone finger down your cheek as he pouted down at you, cooing in a way some may read as condescending, but actually loving coming from someone like Jeonghan.

"You know that if you actually tell me to fuck off, I will, right?" he muttered, eyes fluttering for the first time ever. His eye contact was usually unmatched, but this time his eyes seemed to begin getting hooded; likely due to the proximity of your faces.

"Yes," you nodded quietly, breath caught in your throat.

"And you know if you stop me right now, I won't go through with this, right?", he followed up, face somehow even closer.

"Uh-huh," you nodded again, eyes matching his own hooded ones.

Nodding to himself, he grinned for a split second before closing the gap, soft and slow in his movements as he pressed his lips to your awaiting ones. The kiss was a mere peck at first, lacking any fluidity or movement. It took your reciprocation for it to become something more, as Jeonghan waited for your arms to make their way to his flat chest before he finally put his hands on you, wrapping them around your waist and pulling you to him.

Finally, his lips moved, opening and wrapping around yours, tongue entering your mouth and coaxing yours to play with his own. Soft yet high sighs left his lips as he hummed into your mouth, kissing you in a way far too sensual for an elevator located in your shared workplace.

A large hand went up to your cheek, holding it delicately as he tilted your face upwards in order to gain optimal access to your mouth. Similarly, your hands traveled north, finding their way to his long hair and pulling at it every time he did something particularly enticing with his tongue. Without your hands on his chest, the empty space between you was reduced when he pulled you closer in order to press your chests together, sighing when he felt your hardened nipples through your lack of bra.

Before it could go too far, however, the menace of a man decided to pull away, chuckling when you followed his lips, still in the daze he'd put you in.

"You didn't push me away," he whispered with a breathy laugh, thumb playing with your bottom lip up until you childishly nibbled at it, getting a 'Yah!' from him and another laugh.

"Count your blessings, I still could," you challenged, knowing you did not mean it at all.

"Are you sure?", he leaned close once more, "So you don't want me to do this again?" he murmured as he lightly pressed his lips to yours again, immediately putting you in another daze.

He pulled away even quicker this time around, laughing at the defeated look on your face at your lack of ability to staying true to your word when it concerned him.

"That's what I thought," chuckled Jeonghan, finally putting some decent space between you, "So, ramen and beer?", he asked, holding his hand up as an offer for you to hold it, humming with a smile when you grabbed it and intertwined your fingers.

"Ramen and beer," you agreed, unable to hold back a smile as you stood side by side once again.

"Ever gonna let me take you on a date outside of this place?", asked Jeonghan a few days after that day in the elevator.

No more kissing had occurred between the two of you, though hand holding remained pretty present in your relationship — though that was a strong word to use. His flirting continued to get worse, and so did the attention he gave you around staff and other idols, but he had not kissed you again nor had he done anything you'd expect from someone who had been quite adamant about his intentions with you.

You hadn't questioned it, simply enjoying it when he did things slightly out of your comfort zone in order to demonstrate his interest. Could you be blamed? It was The Yoon Jeonghan who was after you, after all.

But a few days had been more than enough to drive you up a wall.

Spending almost every day in that elevator with him, at such close proximity, — pondering about when the next kiss would be — was driving you insane. It was obvious to you by now that he wanted you to make the first move when it came to that area of your relationship. As far as he was concerned, he'd simply continue to buy you meals and take up your time (and mind) as much as possible.

This was why you completely ignored his initial question and rebutted with your own.

"Date? When are you going to explain that kiss?," you practically defied him, staring him down as he gave you one of his usual satisfied smiles.

"Explain it? I wanted to kiss you, so I did," he shrugged, popping a grape into his mouth before mouth-feeding you one, "If you want more of that, you're going to have to let me take you on a date."

"Jeonghan," you began, "You know we can't do anything outside these walls. If we get spotted, we're fucked," you stated the obvious.

"C'mon, just let me make you dinner in my apartment. I'll even kick Seungkwan out so we can have some privacy," he smirked, hand reaching out to yours in order to try and entice you further.

"Are you propositioning yourself to me?", you smiled at him, mouth open and tongue touching the roof of your mouth in amusement.

"Good, you're catching on," he smirked to himself, taking a short pause to cough as a way to clear his throat, shaking his head and trying again, "I meant as a date. I'm not that crude."

You sighed again, "Fine," you began, rolling your eyes at the way his face suddenly lit up, "but you have to actually make me dinner. If I show up and there's no candlelit dinner on your table, I'm leaving," you threatened jokingly, unable to picture Jeonghan hosting a date so fancy. He pegged you more as the casual date type of guy.

"Candlelit? I can work with that. Wear something pretty for me then," he added as a condition, poking you with his chopstick to emphasize his point, "If I'm making a fancy dinner, then we need to look the part.

"Okay, then wear something other than sweats. I swear I've never seen you wear anything that's not three times your size," you pointed out his usual fashion style, even referring to this moment in which he was wearing an oversized shirt and oversized sweats to match.

"I'll dress up for you, baby, no need to beg," his lips drew up into a smirk that seemed to never leave his lips for too long, putting down his chopsticks in favor of offering you his pinky, "I'll have my driver take us tomorrow after you're done at the company," he said as you linked fingers, pressing his thumb against your own.

"You better not ruin my career, Yoon Jeonghan," left your mouth, though with mere entertainment in your tone.

~

"God, you took it really seriously, didn't you?" you gaped at the dapper Yoon Jeonghan standing in front of you, holding the door open as he reached for your hand in order to let you in.

At the end of the day, your plan had changed a bit, deciding that Jeonghan needed some extra time to get the meal and himself ready for you, and that he wanted you to have time to 'doll yourself up for him' (his words, not yours). And so you went home the following day, took an embarrassing three hours to dress up as pretty as you could — as that strange feminine urge to groom yourself to perfection took over — and had your driver drop you off at the luxury apartment you knew Jeonghan and Seungkwan shared at around 8pm.

The first thing that welcomed you into his home was Jeonghan himself, except he looked very different. You had seen pictures and videos of him dressed to the nines for music videos, awards shows, you name it, but you had never seen the man so insanely put together in the flesh until this moment. Yoon Jeonghan was always a sight to behold, no matter if he was makeup-less and donning a messing man-bun, but the sight in front of you left your mouth agape. He had decided to go for a three-piece suit (too fancy for your taste, but that was likely his intent), chuckling when you rolled your eyes at the bowtie. His makeup was done and his hair beautifully styled. The jury was out on who had out-dressed the other (though it was likely it was Jeonghan).

"Okay, so no bowtie?", he giggled as he closed the door behind you, ripping it off with an ease that was only achievable due to the fact that it was apparently a clip-in and not a real bowtie. As per usual, this caused you to laugh, achieving the goal of its presence.

His hand made its way to your lower back, leading you further into his house as he walked you. It took him an appalling thirty seconds to move closer to you and whisper in your ear how beautiful you looked, granting you a moment of full sincerity with zero banter behind it.

You'd chosen to don a red slip dress, with a red lip and winged eyeliner to match. It wasn't too elegant of a look, but it was perfect for either a candlelit dinner or a night clubbing; you went for versatility, unsure of Jeonghan's unpredictable behavior.

Before you could thank him or blush at his comment, you'd completed the short distance to his dining room that had been just one room away from the entrance. The sight made any other reaction from his compliment leave you, distracting you completely.

It wasn't too elegant nor abnormal for a candlelit dinner, but it still surprised you that Jeonghan had actually followed along with what you'd meant as simple banter — he had actually cooked you and amazing-smelling dinner and lit a few candles throughout the room.

"Dude, this is too much," you gaped, turning back to him, only to be trapped by his arms wrapping around your waist. There was a pleased smile on his face at your astonished reaction.

"You challenged me," he said, eyes squinting at you, "You know better than to challenge me," it was said in a serious tone, though fully in jest, "Can I tell you that you look beautiful again, or would that be cheesy?"

"You can say it as many times as you want," you gave into him, wrapping your hands behind his neck, pulling him a little lower in your direction. He accepted this with no complaint, intertwining his own hands around the small of your back.

"God, stop looking at me like that," he groaned at the smile you were giving him as you looked up at him, his hands continuing to run up and down the small of your back, clearly picking it as a favorite part of your body at the moment.

"Why? What are you gonna do about it?", you challenged him.

"It might've taken me two hours and one extinguisher to cook that dinner, but I'd be willing to let it go to waste," he warned, front teeth digging into the plush of his bottom lip as he stared you down with defiance in his eyes.

You pouted petulantly at him, giving in to his banter for the nth time, "Oh, so you really were propositioning yourself to me the other day, huh?", you cocked your head to the side, raising your brows in challenging manner, "I thought this was meant to be a date and nothing more?"

His hands tightened around you, pulling you close enough for your chests to rub together, huffing out an annoyed breath, "Believe it or not, I don't have enough ingenious in me to keep this conversation going forever. Are you going to let me kiss you or are you going to force us through a subpar dinner I burnt three separate times?", he whined, chuckling halfway through when you giggled at his statement.

"I'm not stopping you," you murmured, leaning up and rubbing your nose against his own as if to dare him to take action.

Never a man to back away from a challenge, Jeonghan's speech ended there, closing the gap between you as his lips landed on your own with a mixture of sensuality and roughness. Loyal to their fidgeting habits, his hands remained on your hips, fingers squeezing the plush there every so often as you let out tiny breaths into his mouth.

It was embarrassing to count the times you'd thought about kissing him ever since that first time, having it invade your mind more often than not in the short period of time between then and now. The soft sounds he'd made into your mouth and the touches of his hands had been imprinted in you, making you silently and pathetically yearn for more as he continued his usual flirtations. Finally arriving at a point where he finally had you completely alone and with no distance imaginable, you let yourself go into the kiss, hoping it would go further than last time. The circumstances were more than agreeable this time around, anyway.

Seemingly, Jeonghan agreed with your silent pleas, slowly walking you over to the couch located somewhere in the large combination of dining room and living room inside his apartment. No words were exchanged, as they would've interrupted the consistent locking of lips, but your gasp was still registered by him when you suddenly felt yourself dip and be manhandled into lying horizontally on the couch.

Now lying down, it was easy for Jeonghan to truly invade all your senses. Still fully clothed, he laid on top of you, knees settling on both sides of your hips as to not lay his entire weight on you. The locking of lips did not seize, continuing as you pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. The cocky man chuckled into your mouth at how insistent you seemed in kissing him, but that was the least of your worries at the moment. He had opted for close-mouthed kisses, making you groan at every silent denial for you to deepen the kiss.

"Stop being a little shit," you groaned when he refused to let your tongue enter his mouth for the nth time.

"You want me sooo bad," he grinned, kissing at your cheek as your eyes rolled once more.

"Are you going to be this annoying when you're inside me?," your head turned to the side, making you be the one to avoid his kisses this time around, but that didn't bode well for the boy.

"Yah," he whined, "It's not fun when you do it. Just let me kiss you," he slurred, repositioning himself slightly to let his hips find the height of your own, finally kissing you how you'd been wanting. He disconnected his lips momentarily just a few seconds after, pushing his hips against yours decidedly, "And, for the record, I'll be everything but annoying while I'm fucking you," he murmured as his last words.

That's when his kiss became intense and decided, exploring every inch of your mouth while his hips chased your own with a passion you did not believe Jeonghan could possess. He'd always seemed like the lazier of his members, like he'd he the type to lay back and unbuckle his pants for whoever was lucky enough to get him in bed. However, he had proved to you time and time again that he was actively interested in pursuing you — especially now as he held onto your legs, wrapping them around his waist to ensure his hardness could hit perfectly against the very thin cloth of the panties under your ridden up dress.

"Fuck, you already feel so good," he rasped, lips finding your neck, "Take this pretty dress off for me, yeah?", he nudged at the strap of your dress with his nose, kissing the bare skin he found there.

With only a nod and a whine from you, he got to business, hands reaching behind your back as you arched it to grant him access, blindly unzipping it and lowering the straps from your arms whilst still laying down. An uncharacteristically low groan left him upon discovering your lack of bra, making him look to you with a pained look in his eye before dipping down to kiss at your breasts.

Nimble fingers graced the length of your arms, creating goosebumps in their wake as they one of them reached your breast while the other squeezed at your hip intermittently. One of your breasts was trapped by his hand, the nipple tortured by his thumb while your other breast suffered through licks and nips from his mouth. Heavy sighs were breathed out against your tit m, mixed with the occasional groan as his hips continued canting onto your own. Your dress was uncomfortably bunching at your middle, but it remained in the back of your mind as Jeonghan occupied the rest of it.

It didn't take long for you to grow frustrated at the lack of nudity demonstrated by the man on top of you. Your hands mindlessly pulled at his suit jacket and began pulling it off, only getting it down to his elbows due to his lack of aid in removing it. Next was his button-up, which you fully unbuttoned as his lips came back up to your own, chuckling at your insistence. Once almost undressing him, he finally disconnected your lips, hastily throwing off his top and unbuttoning his pants. He looked down at you with heavy lids as he pulled his pants low enough to uncover his thighs and remain in nothing but his boxers. Next came your panties, which he slowly traced his the tips of his fingers, toying at your puffy cunt through the fabric long enough for you to release a few tortured whines.

"Jeonghan!", you scolded, getting a snicker from him before he actually aided you in the removal of your panties. Lifting your hips, you silently instructed him to throw off your dress the rest of the way, now fully nude under him.

The last piece of clothing separating you were his boxers, much to your despair. Your ached to reach up to a kneeling Jeonghan who continued to stand almost completely still above you, hand pressing at his cock through the cloth as he peered at you as if he wanted to swallow you whole.

"Are you going to do anything?", you complained from under him, hands attempting to reach his cock but being prevented by him, too occupied in taking you in to allow you to touch him.

"I'm enjoying the sight," he hummed, eyes taking turns between your open legs, damp breasts and desperate eyes, "God, I don't even know where to start," he groaned, sounding genuinely pained.

Pained? You could work with that. Maybe this was your turn to tease him as he always did ti you.

Sitting up as best you could whilst under him, you reached up to him, running your hands from his pelvis to his chest, fingers shyly pinching at his nipples. Your mouth found his neck, licking its way to his ear to nibble at the lobe. Within seconds Jeonghan was putty under you, with one of his hands wrapping around you to pull you closer. You kissed sensually at his ear, whispering unspeakable filth into it that had him groaning. Tilting your head to the side, you took a peak at his face. He had a satisfied yet pained look painting his pretty features. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth agape, hiccuping a groan at your words.

"Should've known you were filthy," he grunted, burying his face in your neck, helping you back into your lying position so he could truly bury himself in you, "It's in your eyes ... Always looked at me like you wanted me to take you right in that elevator," he added, hands coming down to messily rid himself of his boxers.

His hips were leveled with your own, almost touching your cunt but not just yet. Without thinking, you canted your hips upward, managing to get his hardness to grace at your cunt just perfectly. This drew a matching groan from both your lips, making Jeonghan cough halfway through his dirty talk.

"Oh, you're that desperate? Okay, pretty, I'll fuck you. Don't need to beg me so much," he mocked, positioning himself to finally enter you, but unable to help himself in teasing your clit with his tip for a few moments in order to draw just a couple more cries from you. With a chuckle, he finally began entering you, gasping a silent groan at the feeling of finally being enveloped by you.

"God," he grumbled, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure, "Tell me when I can move," he practically pleaded.

"Just move," you whined, "It's already good."

Your green light was all he needed to begin pumping in and out of you, gasping out praise every so often. His hands remained on your hips, squeezing at the skin whenever it felt extra good to fuck into you. Clammy skin and lewd sounds of slapping took up all your senses, making you almost miss Jeonghan's words as he began low rambles into your ear.

"Do you even know how long I've wanted you?", he started, breath heavy against your ear, making you want to bury yourself in his skin, "Always wanted to talk to you, but- fuck- but the guys told me I shouldn't as- as your senior," he stuttered in between groans, "But I couldn't let my chance pass when you helped me that day ... We just clicked," he confessed, groaning loudly when you tightened at his unexpected confession.

"Han ...", you sighed, gripping his shoulders as if your life depended on it, "I, fuck, really?"

He nodded against you, kissing the skin he could reach, "I like you so much, you have no idea," he continued, speeding up his hips, "Tell me you like me back," he whined with a bit of humor in his voice. It was impossible for him to let things become too serious for too long — something you really liked about him.

"I like you, Hannie," you humored him, using the nickname he'd asked you to use all those weeks ago, giggling in between sighs of pleasures when he groaned at it.

"Don't call me that right now, you're so mean," he whined, biting lightly at your skin in defiance, "I'm trying to make this fun for you."

"Then keep fucking me," you insisted, "Hannie," you couldn't help but add with a girlish and exaggerated moan.

"You're provoking me? Really? Again? Okay, brat," he huffed, hands finding the back of your legs to wrap them higher on his waist, ensuring his cock could now piston in and out of you in a way that had your eyes rolling back.

Despite his lazy persona, he was a beast as he fucked you, specially after you'd invoked that bratty side of him that couldn't allow you to out-brat him. It was toe-curling to think about how having you under him provoked this side of him to come out; the side that made him lose all inhibitions and break him down to his most animalistic desires as he fucked you. Any lack of energy was replaced by a stamina that made the slapping of skin so embarrassingly loud you couldn't help but blush. That, combined with his nonexistent shyness in letting out every moan threatening to leave his lips made it the most pleasurable experience for you.

"Sound so pretty ... You're driving me crazy," he grunted in a pained chuckle, "Gonna make me cum ... Fuck, come with me? Yeah, pretty? Need to feel you cum around me before I fill you up," he rambled, hand suddenly sneaking between your bodies and attacking your clit without any warning. You could no longer banter with him, too drunk on the feeling to vocalize anything other than mewls of pleasure.

Jeonghan's hips combined with the feeling of his fingers assaulting your clit were all you needed to lose yourself to your orgasm, almost dragging him down with you as you tightened around him.

"F-fuck, you're cumming? Is it that good, baby? Shit, took it so good for me, hmm?", he continued talking you through it, humming back a groan when you tightened just enough for him to reach his own high, "O-oh, God ... C-cumming, shit. Where?", he was frantic in asking, his gigantic eyes growing two times bigger as he looked to yours for guidance, eyebrows furrowing further at every passing second his orgasm threatened to take him down.

"Inside, H-hannie," you sighed out, mellowing out from your former orgasm. Another whine exited your lips at the breathiest cry leaving the pretty boy above you, whining out desperate praise at the privilege it was to cum inside you. It was likely Jeonghan knew about the birth control idols were usually put under, but his reaction told you he was appreciative nonetheless.

"So fucking good .... God, you're so good, so pretty, so perfect," the praise was endless, making you want to be the sole cause of his pleasure until the end of time.

Once finally emptied out, his energetic persona died out quite quickly, instantly morphing himself to your side as he nudged you aside to make space for him on the couch. Being large enough to fit you both, you snuggled together, Jeonghan nuzzling that pointy nose into your hair as you two regained consciousness. It was amusing how easily he morphed into his usual touchy and lazy persona just seconds after fucking you an inch of your life.

"Hmph," he hummed into your skin, nuzzling so much it seemed he was trying to enter your skin, "You're soft after sex, y'know that?", he thought out loud, leaving mindless kisses behind.

"You're so weird," you huffed, jokingly pushing him away but adoring the warmth that pooled in your heart at his whine in complaint, accompanied by him pulling you even closer.

"Yeah, but you like me weird," he reminded you.

You allowed a beat or two of silence to consume you before turning further toward his side, cuddling into him in as the comfort between lovers after sex invaded the room.

"Did you mean what you said?"

He hummed questioningly, too lost in the comfort to think back to what you meant.

"Did you like me before we met in that elevator?", your voice was meek, reminiscent of those mere five minutes of shyness you felt when you first met Jeonghan, soon overtaken by the natural comfort his presence brought upon such a short time.

"Yeah," he stated simply, "Seungkwan sent me a video of your group covering one of our songs in your debut showcase and I thought you were cute," he chuckled fondly at the memory, "Then I saw you at the company a few times and thought you were the cutest thing," he booped your nose annoyingly, "I wasn't planning on doing anything about it, but like I said, we clicked. You looked shy, but the moment I spoke to you, you were fed up of my shit. I liked that about you," he hummed.

You couldn't help laughing at that, "You liked me because I was rude to you?"

"I mean, it's not often that my juniors speak to me like that. It's always so formal," he blegh'd in an exaggerated manner, "I can't really explained it. It was just a gut feeling, y'know?"

You thought back to how comfortable you felt in his presence that first day, nodding in agreement, "Yeah, I know," you smiled as you reached over to find his lips, pecking them sweetly.

"Dinner's probably gone bad by now, by the way," he spoke up after the kiss, guiding your hand to his head for self-indulgent scratches.

"You didn't actually invite me over to have dinner," you reminded him humorously.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "I didn't."

to read short 2.4k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, lots of banter with the rest of seventeen, jeonghan is bullied by you and his members, mentions of oppa (only once and in a teasing way), small age gap, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1004 (teaser); 2484 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"You're going to get me in so much tro- Stop!", you couldn't help the girlish squeal that left your mouth at Jeonghan's careless roughhousing.

His hands wouldn't leave your waist, glued to the dip of your waist as he followed you around Seventeen's floor as you attempted to leave.

After the ruse to keep you around for his elevator rides died down, now becoming Jeonghan's official girlfriend (his words), the menacing boy continued to play dumb, insisting that there was just no one else he entrusted with the task of helping him up and down the elevator. It was a dumb inside joke between you, but it made your insides giggle like a madwoman every time you thought about his insistence to keep you around as much as humanly possible, even now as you engaged in a formal and exclusive relationship.

Hanging out with him in the comfort of your group's floor was fine. Your group was a mere few months old, meaning there wasn't too much traffic from other groups or any outsiders there. However, the halls of Seventeen's floor always made you nervous. You always insisted on being behind closed doors when it came to Jeonghan's floor, knowing that Seventeen were incredibly popular, which resulted in their floor of the building being far more trafficked than your own.

As far as you were aware, only your respective groups, managers, and a few staff members were aware of your relationship. Many simply assumed there was something going on, but due to any lack of announcement of your relationship, there was no way to confirm it. That, and the many people who ended up shipping you after the release of Hybe's Game Caterers due to how insistent on sticking by your side Jeonghan had been during recording (damn you, Yoon Jeonghan).

"Bunny, c'mon," he whined, nuzzling his head in your neck as you continued to walk down the hallway, attempting to reach their practice room, "What's the point in dating if I can't even enjoy you at work?", he protested, feet bumping into yours due to the continuous proximity between your bodies.

"Han, if someone catches us-"

"I don't care. You know that," his touches finally halted as soon as you made it to the door, holding it open for you in a classic act of gallantry often displayed by him. It was always unspoken and casual, but you came to learn that Jeonghan was naturally caring for those around him, especially you. Doors were opened, oranges peeled, laces tied, you name it.

"Sure, you don't care," you started, crossing the small dressing room that connected the hallway and the practice room, Jeonghan behind you, "You're like fifty, you've been in the industry forever now. A measly dating rumor with your junior would do nothing to your career. I'd get accused of sleeping my way up and fuck everything up for my members," you argued back, not seriously mad nor argumentative, just continuing the thread of conversation.

Finally in the practice room, Jeonghan gaped at you, amused yet offended, "Fifty?", he gasped, getting the attention of a fellow Boo Seungkwan and Lee Chan who just so happened to be sitting by nearby, "You're calling me old? I'm 28!," he insisted, whining at you and pulling at your arm as a child would.

Feigning annoyance, you held in your laugh at his childishness, knowing that this was always the result any time you attempted to tease him back. Before you could retaliate again, you were interrupted by the other men present in the room, having interrupted whatever conversation they were having with Jeonghan's loudness.

"You're the most lethargic man I know," said Chan with complete seriousness in his face, causing Seungkwan to burst laughing.

Dokyeom seemingly compartmentalized out of nowhere, also joining in as he crossed the door you'd just come in from, close enough to have heard the conversation, "Cradle robber," he teased as he walked by, sticking out his tongue at Jeonghan as the elder did it first.

Jeonghan gaped at all four of you, exasperated in his response, "We're like five years apart!," he whined in reference to your age difference, "If I'm lethargic, then what are you?", he yelled, pointing at Seokmin who had already walked away, still grinning in satisfaction at Jeonghan from his side of the room, beginning to join other members in their stretching.

Laughing throughout it all, you relished on Jeonghan's members ganging up on him, knowing it was usually him who teased the others. Ever since your relationship had become official, you spent more and more time around his groupmates — groupmates who found great enjoyment in teasing him over your relationship. You were never the butt of the joke. On the contrary, they'd encourage you to join in, knowing you were Jeonghan's one and only weakness.

Suddenly, Jeonghan turned to you, annoyed scowl on his face, "You! You don't get to join in and mock me. They're insulting your boyfriend, defend me!", he demanded, pouts and whines never leaving him.

You huffed, "Why should I defend you? I'm your junior, oppa," you used that term very strategically, only ever saving it to tease him or make him embarrassed in front of whoever was around.

Seungkwan all but cackled at the way Jeonghan stopped his annoyed rambling with a swiftness, gaping at you with his eyebrows all the way to his hairline. His mouth opened and closed, likely pondering a comeback for you. Within the short time you'd dated, Jeonghan's insistence that you call him by the correct honorific only got worse, but your denials remained. You calling him oppa at this moment meant only one thing to him: You wanted war.

Without further words, he grabbed you by the wrist, ignoring your surprised yelp as he pulled you with him towards the door you'd barely crossed mere minutes ago. Not really fighting him, you stumbled as you trailed behind him, waving a quick bye to his friends while Seungkwan whined at Jeonghan for his sudden exit.

...

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