#i know i didn’t have to respond but… i wanted to. i really really wanted to.

[cutiefulism]

puppyboy!caleb who just wants to fuck a litter into u :((

cw — breeding (dadoy), use of gege, typical caleb activities except hes a germand shepard, pet names (baby, honey, wife but theyre not married). fluffy prequel here.

he thinks you should have known. all the signs were right there, practically jingling in your face.

“did you— mm . . really think i’d invite you over for somethin’ as harmless as a common cold?”

he knows you won’t respond verbally. can’t respond, he thinks, not when his hips are slamming against your juicy ass, cock filling you up to the brim after his fingers and mouth worked so hard to stretch you out.

and even that hadn’t been enough. he still had to go reaaaal slow, ease it into that filthy, drooling hole, and by then he was just so impatient that he couldn’t wait any longer! :p

caleb will be gentle next time, he promises.

saliva and tears dribble down your chin, rolling down your chest and onto his sheets, and he wishes he could lean forward to lap it all up with his tongue. instead, he nuzzles into the side of your tainted neck, pressing little loving pecks against reddened skin as if to make up for the brutal way he’s splitting you open.

“y-yer just so gullible, baby. always takin’ your gege’s word for fact.”

you attempt to shake your head, a few, rare pieces of coherent thought stringing together enough to actually speak. “ungh, ngh! n-no, ‘m not . . not dumb.”

look at you. stubborn as always, ready to defend yourself and your beliefs at a moment’s notice. it’s cute.

“of course you aren’t,” caleb coos with a breathy chuckle, and he takes your soft, warm skin into his mouth, sucking another bruise to join the others. “never said you were. you’re a smart girl. my smart girl, and that’s exactly why i have to breed you.”

he feels the way your velvety walls clamp down on his aching cock at his words, and he grins. he knows all of your little weak protests earlier were fake.

all those “but, caleb, i don’t think it’s a good idea, we’re not even married” and “i’m just not ready yet” and “we’re both so busy, how will we have time for the baby?”

that was all bullshit.

you want this. you know you do, and caleb definitely knows you do.

you’re just in denial. but don’t worry — he’ll fuck that out of you.

“it’s o-only right to— shit–” plap “spread my wife’s beauty and smarts–” plap “to the rest of the world, right?”

caleb slams forward, hips stilling for a moment as he whimpers against your bitten-up neck, and a desperate mewl leaves your own lips as the impact lunges you forward.

his weeping tip is smooching your cervix, ready to pump a load into your temporarily empty womb.

“say . . say you want it.”

you blink, brows drawing together as you try to focus through the drunken haze. “w-wha?”

“say you want my cum, say you wanna be a mommy f’me,” he groans, and despite the low roughness of his voice, you can hear that almost pathetic pleading underneath.

and how could you deny caleb like this?

your head bobs, throat dry. “i wan’ it. please, caleb. fill . . fill me up.”

that’s all he needs.

caleb’s thick tail gives a happy thump against the sheets as his hips start up again, this pace much more demanding than the previous. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d be trying to fuck you into the mattress.

“thaaaat’s it,” he sighs, and all you can do is squeal as the bed creaks and rocks beneath you. “lemme stuff this pretty pussy full, honey.”

“i’ll . . f-fuck, ngh— give you as many pups as ya want. a whole . . a whole fucking football team—!” his words break off into a whine when you clamp down on him again, and he already knows what’s going to happen before you even try to say it.

this time, you really can’t speak. all you can do is moan and attempt silly, broken cries of his name, pleasure coiling to a fever pitch in your gut.

he knows you better than you know yourself, after all.

“mmf, a-ah, ‘m cumming— c-caleb!”

his name sounds so beautiful on your lips, like a siren’s call to his heavy, tightening balls and twitching dick.

within seconds of you gushing all over his cock, squirt spraying all over that dark, almost curly patch of pubic hair, his hips are stuttering, pretty violet eyes rolling back as he mumbles your name again and again like a damn prayer.

caleb dumps thick ropes of gooey seed into your warm, waiting womb and, oh, it is so much. much more than you expected, and it feels . . good.

a small bulge appears on your tummy where caleb has stuffed you to your limit, and you’re sure it’s going to leak out, make an even bigger mess all over your sheets.

the knot at the base of his girth swells, trapping his cum inside, and even if caleb had the traitorous thought of pulling out of you, he couldn’t.

even his basic biology knows that a single drop can’t and won’t go to waste.

he whines, hot, damp breath ghosting across your skin as he shoves his face into your neck again, that feral need mostly disappearing. you can feel his chest heaving in time with your own against your back, fluffy ears twitching.

“i’ll make up to you for rounds four and five, how about that?”

“l-let’s take a small break, okay? ‘m sorry for bein’ so rough on you, baby,” he mumbles, and your heart gives a helpless flutter at the genuine guilt in his tone.

you’ve never quite gotten used to his flips in personality.

doing gradients is actually hell on earth wtf

[prettyangellllll]

Your fuck buddy rafe finds out you have breeding kink

Pairing: fwb!rafe cameron x soft!reader

Warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk rafe being cocky

---

The phone rang at an ungodly hour, cutting through the silence of your bedroom. You glanced at the screen. It was Rafe.

You didn’t even hesitate. The agreement was simple—no strings, no expectations, just a call when one of you needed the other. You weren’t expecting anything deep or emotional. You just knew what you were walking into.

Pulling on your hoodie and slipping into the nearest pair of jeans, you left your apartment in a rush, your heart already racing for reasons you weren’t entirely sure of.

Rafe’s house was only a few minutes away, but by the time you stepped inside, you felt like you’d been standing on the edge of something you couldn’t pull back from. The door was unlocked, as usual. You pushed it open without knocking.

“Door’s open,” his voice drifted from somewhere deeper in the house, a tone you recognized as his usual cocky, casual self. You didn’t need to look at him yet to know the posture—the one that said he owned everything around him.

You stepped into the living room, your eyes locking on him as he stood by the couch, a drink in hand. He looked like he always did—laid-back, confident, too damn handsome for your own good. The only difference tonight was the dark glint in his eyes that made your heart skip.

“You’re here,” Rafe said, a smirk playing on his lips as his gaze traveled over you, lingering for just a second too long. “Always so eager. You really can’t stay away, can you?”

The words stung, but you didn’t respond. You never did when he teased you. Instead, you swallowed, trying to calm the rush of warmth that was spreading through your body. He wasn’t even touching you yet, but you could feel the pull of him like a magnet.

“I didn’t call you here for small talk,” Rafe continued, taking a step forward, his eyes never leaving you. “You know what this is.”

You nodded, your throat tight as you looked up at him, trying to maintain your usual calm. But Rafe always had a way of making you feel small—no matter how hard you tried. His presence had a way of swallowing you whole.

With a subtle shift, Rafe reached out, pulling you close. His hands slid under the hem of your hoodie, the warmth of his fingers against your skin causing a shiver to ripple down your spine. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You look so sweet tonight. You know I can’t resist when you act all innocent like this.”

You blinked, heart pounding. Innocent? You weren’t sure if that was how he saw you. But in this moment, you felt anything but innocent. Your mind was clouded with the desire to be close to him, to be used by him, the way you always did.

But tonight, things felt different. It was almost as if he was waiting for something.

“You still like this, don’t you?” Rafe asked, his voice low and dangerous, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers moved lower, brushing the waistband of your jeans. “Tell me you do. Tell me how much you want me.”

You swallowed, your pulse racing, but when you finally spoke, it was barely a whisper, “I want you…”

“Yeah, I know you do,” he muttered, his hands sliding beneath your jeans, pushing them down just enough for him to feel the softness of your skin. “But I think there’s more you’re hiding, doll.”

Your eyes widened, a flicker of panic rushing through you. But before you could speak, his fingers dipped lower, brushing against a place you hadn’t expected him to go. The shock of his touch sent a jolt through you, your body instantly reacting, but you held back your gasp.

Rafe’s smirk widened, as if he could read you like a book. “I know exactly what this is. You like being bred, don’t you?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the heat of shame flooding your chest. You were embarrassed, humiliated even, but at the same time… the thought of him using you like that made your body ache in ways you couldn’t deny. You tried to look away, to hide the flush on your face, but his grip on your chin forced you to meet his eyes.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he demanded. “Tell me you want it. Tell me how much you need me to fuck you like that.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the truth hung on the tip of your tongue, and when he pressed against you, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I need it,” you whispered, the words escaping your lips in a breathless rush.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on you. “That’s what I thought.”

He pushed you back onto the couch with a gentle yet commanding motion, his hands quickly stripping you of your clothes. The speed of it had you gasping, but you didn’t fight it. You never did when he took control.

Rafe loomed over you, his eyes drinking you in like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. “You don’t get to be shy now,” he growled, his fingers sliding into you with a practiced ease that made you gasp. “You’re mine when I want you, doll. And right now? I want you.”

You closed your eyes, your heart racing. It wasn’t just the physical connection anymore. It was the way Rafe made you feel—like you were his, even when he wasn’t here. And right now, you couldn’t help but want everything he was about to give you.

Rafe’s breath was heavy above you, his fingers working with a sure, experienced touch as he stretched you, preparing you for what he had in mind. Every movement of his made your body react, whether you wanted it to or not. It was like an invisible thread tethering you to him, and you were powerless to fight it.

“You feel that?” he asked, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s me getting you ready, doll. You’ve wanted this, haven’t you? Don’t be shy. You can’t hide from me.”

You could barely form words, your body so consumed with need that all you could do was nod, desperately trying to catch your breath. His thumb brushed your clit, sending a shock of pleasure through you. Your whole body stiffened at the sensation, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

“You like that,” Rafe observed, his grin widening as he leaned down to kiss you, his lips tasting like whiskey and something darker. “You like being touched like this. But you also like being filled, don’t you? You like when I make you mine.”

You could feel the heat rising in your chest, your pulse pounding in your ears. The words were more than you could handle, but they also sparked something deeper in you. Something you couldn’t suppress. Your body craved him in a way that left you trembling.

“I—” You started to speak but couldn’t finish the sentence. You were too embarrassed to say it aloud. But Rafe wasn’t going to let you off that easily. He wanted to hear you say it.

“Say it, sweetheart,” he demanded, his voice a dark, teasing whisper. “Tell me what you need.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the warmth of his breath on your skin almost too much to handle. Finally, you managed, “I need you to—please… I want you to—fuck me like that.”

A satisfied chuckle rumbled in his chest as he positioned himself between your legs, his body brushing against yours. “I knew it,” he muttered, his hands gripping your hips as he slid inside of you. You gasped, your body arching instinctively to meet him. The stretch was almost overwhelming, but the heat of his skin against yours made the discomfort fade quickly, replaced by an overwhelming need for more.

Rafe’s pace was slow at first, savoring each movement as he drove deeper, but it didn’t take long before his rhythm became harder, faster, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

“God, you’re so tight, doll,” he groaned, his forehead pressed against yours. “You feel so fucking good. Do you like this? Tell me you like it.”

“Yes,” you whispered, barely able to breathe. “I like it, Rafe. Please, don’t stop.”

The grip on your hips tightened, and you gasped as Rafe picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more erratic, harder. You could feel him everywhere, your entire focus consumed by the feel of him inside you. The way his name fell from your lips—shaky, breathless—only seemed to drive him further into madness.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his lips grazing your ear. “You’re mine now. All of you. And I’ll make you beg for more.”

His words were dark and possessive, and they sent a thrill straight to your core. You couldn’t stop the moan that left your throat, the shame of your desire quickly giving way to pure need. You didn’t care anymore. Not when he was like this. Not when he was all you could think about, all you could feel.

Rafe’s movements became more frantic, more desperate. His grip on you was almost bruising, but you didn’t care. You wanted him—needed him—just as badly as he needed you.

“Don’t hold back,” he growled, his voice rough. “I know you want it. Come on, let go.”

The tension in your body coiled tighter, your stomach tightening as you felt your climax building. You were so close, so close to unraveling. And Rafe knew it. He could feel the way your body responded to him, the way your walls tightened around him, and it drove him wild.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin as he pressed harder into you. “I’ll give you everything you need.”

And then, with a final thrust, you came undone, your body shaking as the pleasure took over. Rafe’s name slipped from your lips in a breathless cry, and as you clenched around him, he followed you, the warmth of his release flooding you, his grip on you never loosening.

He stayed there for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath, his body still pressed against yours. The room was thick with the aftermath, and you both just lay there for a few moments, your heartbeats slowing as the haze of pleasure faded.

Rafe pulled away, but he didn’t let go of you. His eyes locked onto yours, dark with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Good girl,” he muttered again, his fingers brushing your cheek. “You did so well for me tonight. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you responded. You’re mine when I want you, doll. And I always want you.”

You were breathless, your body still recovering from what had just happened. But there was something inside you—something about the way Rafe looked at you that made you want to stay, made you want more, even if you knew it was dangerous. You weren't sure what this was, but in this moment, you didn't care.

Rafe had you. And you were more than willing to let him take everything he wanted.

[yailtsv]

Secret - p.b

💌 Syn: Azzi’s younger sister dates one of their teammates behind Azzi’s back

»»— warnings: none i don’t think

»»— notes: i hate how this one turned out 🤠

»»— word count: 917

»»— pair: Paige x Fudd!Gfreader

“shhh we gotta be quiet” you tell paige after she knocked something off of your dresser when sneaking in

paige just ignores you and picks up what she dropped and then closed and locked your bedroom door - heading towards you.

you and azzi share a dorm together with caroline, carols asleep and azzi’s in her room doing homework, so what did you do? called your girlfriend to come over

but…said girlfriend has to sneak in because you both are hiding your relationship. azzi would not approve of your relationship and you both aren’t gonna ask your teammates to lie for you so you can be public around them, that’s just insane.

so that gets you to where you are right now - watching paige get clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser, and then changing into those clothes

“movie and cuddles?” paige asked after putting the clothes she just took off, onto your desk chair for her to grab when she leaves

you nod, already getting in your bed and under the covers, making paige do the same

you both fell asleep watching the movie, all cuddled up together. but you both woke up to consistent knocking, only waking up fully when you heard azzi say through the door “alright fine i’m using the key” making both of you sit up startled, but before you could move and push paige into your closet the door had opened and in walked azzi.

you could see azzi’s facial expression change, you could tell when she put the scene in front of her together in her brain, you could also see the look of hurt and betrayal all across her face

“az-“ “no! do not say anything!” she tells you before turning to face paige “you’re sleeping with my sister? AFTER i told you she was off limits?”

paige doesn’t really know what to say. azzi’s right, she did tell paige that you were off limits - and has been telling her since paige and azzi first met - which was years ago. paige did follow through with that, up until last year.

she never showed she was attracted to you - she was even in denial with her feelings for you. she always treated you as a friend - a very close friend but a friend.

she never thought you and her would eventually become a thing, she always fully intended to keep you at arms length - so that azzi wouldn’t be mad at her.

she’s not really sure on the time stamp of when she accepted her feelings, but whenever it was, was one of the greatest days. the even better day, was when she finally decided to do something with her feelings - that’s the day you guys started dating.

you and her have been dating for a little over a year now. she thought you guys wouldn’t be caught this far along, and she was wrong, and she’s having a difficult time on swallowing this pill.

“az- i’m sorry” paige stutters out, kinda overwhelmed with this situation “YOU’RE sorry?! you can date anyone in the world, and you chose the ONE person that i said was off limits, and you’re sorry?!”

“azzi i’m an adult, i can date who i want to date.” you tell her, wanting this conversation to be over

“you’re also my little sister dating MY best friend.” azzi responded back, still mad about the situation “why are you making it sound like she’s not my friend too? we’re all teammates, we’re all friends, we didn’t tell you we were seeing each other because we knew you were gonna act like this.”

“act like what?! i told both of you that i didn’t want you guys to ever date each other and look what’s happening now! you guys couldn’t of just respected that wish? i don’t ask anything of either of you but the one thing i do, you go behind my back and do it any ways?”

“azzi that’s not fair-“ paige starts but got cut off “fair?! you wanna talk about being fair?” “if you would let me talk that would be great!” paige said after cutting azzi off

azzi stopped talking and crossed her arms over her chest looking at paige expectingly “go on”

“we both did what you asked. we ignored each other romantically until last year, we spent all of our time together since me and you met at arms length, we’ve done everything, and unexpectedly fell for each other in that time. we are both adults, we can both do what we want - and what we want is to be with each other. you can’t stop us from dating, we’ve respected your wish this whole time but you never say why we can’t date you just say to not date, and that’s not fair at all. if your gonna forbid us from doing something at least tell us why. and until you can come up with a good reason - we’re gonna continue seeing each other”

azzi just looks at paige, her arms still crossed over her chest “i love her” paige replied again after a few moments of silence

azzi doesn’t say anything but after a few seconds walks out the door and back to her room. you and paige both make eye contact before sighing out loud

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @ldapper

requested on wattpad

[plaidcowboy]

HIMBO .ᐟ RAFE ┆ meeting ✶ ❝ not all quite there . . .

. . . crazy with a wrench ❞

pure lapdog behavior 𖥔 unabashed showing off chaotic inner monologue 𖥔 himbo .ᐟ rafe’s introduction 𖥔 he takes requests .ᐟ

“hey, hey,” rafe slapped topper in the chest about five times until topper responded, “stop hitting me, i’m right here.”

rafe ducked down in his seat suddenly, bracing his head, “did she see me?” topper looked around, already over rafe’s behavior, “who? why are you in that position, you look like a fetus, dude.”

rafe peeked over his arms, seeing you were now turned around. he blew out a breath then responded, “that girl over there. you know her? don’t answer, i don’t want you to know her. actually, can you go over there and put in a good word?”

topper blanched, “i am so confused. do you want me to talk to her or not?” rafe shrugged, tilting his side to side, “a little. not too long. crap,” he said suddenly, ducking back down, “i think she looked over again. or am i delusional? i can’t tell anymore. she can’t see me until i’m ready.”

topper frowned, “ready? what are you about to do, you just healed your ankle from jumping two stories, don’t do that again.”

rafe shrugged, “i can and i will. just . . tell her about how much i can press. girls like that right? does she look like she’s into bench pressing? don’t look at her. say something about how i fix cars. and i can fix her car if she has a car. if she doesn’t, tell her i’ll buy her one.”

topper stood, making his way over while walking backwards, “so, that’s all gonna scare her. i got it,” he turned around, making his way towards you.

rafe shifted in his chair, crossing a leg over the over, then putting them back down. he stretched to flex his arms, then quickly put them down too. how the heck do you sit?

while rafe wondered that, topper was doing his best to introduce rafe, “he’s not all quite there . . crazy with a wrench, though.”

rafe looked up after he settled himself when you turned your head to look at him, smiling when you spotted him. that means go, right? rafe sprung up, making his way over, not being able to sit still for another second now that you looked at him. smiled at him.

“sup?” he said once he reached you two, gesturing his head for topper to go away. topper got the hint, returning to his seat. passing rafe, he muttered, “she doesn’t have a car.”

rafe blurted, “i can buy you one,” startling you. he wasn’t able to see topper shaking his head in disappointment as he walked away. your brows scrunched, “sorry?”

rafe smiled nervously, “me too. um, i can buy you a jacket. you look cold,” you realized you were rubbing your arm, “oh, yeah. no, it’s fine. not that bad,” you laughed slightly.

rafe shook his head, anxious you were cold and possibly uncomfortable, “no, if you’re cold, i’ll get you a jacket.”

you tilted your lips, “it’s fine, really. i’m leaving soon, anyway. kind of bored . . was that your friend?” you attempted conversation, but rafe was distracted, staring at you after you mentioned leaving, until he heard the last part of the sentence.

“huh? no, don’t think about him. where are you going?” he didn’t want you to leave yet. did topper talk about his bench press? did you care? did you want to see the callous on his hand from handling tools?

“uh . . just back home. my comfy place,” you muttered shyly. rafe nodded, then frowned. you don’t have a car, are you walking? alone? “i can walk you. i can buy you a jacket on the way. what kind of cars do you like?”

you couldn’t keep up with all that he said at once. you giggled, rafe slightly going weak in the knees at the sound, “sure, you can walk me. i’m still fine about the jacket. mustang’s are pretty cool. what’s your favorite?”

rafe responded distractedly, “the one that drives. you said i can walk you?”

you really have never met a guy like him, “yeah, but i don’t even know your name,” you narrowed your eyes, jokingly suspicious. you didn’t expect rafe’s response, “i’d endure fifteen stab wounds before i hurt you, i’m rafe,” he held his hand out.

your eyes widened, “oh . . don’t do that. nice to meet you,” you shook his hand, responding with your name, then turned to start walking. rafe followed alongside you, thinking about how sweaty his hands just were and how you probably didn’t like that. is he walking alright? are you sure you don’t want a jacket?

“your hand . . ” you suddenly spoke. rafe stilled slightly, scared you noticed the sweatiness. great one, rafe. but then you continued, “it felt rough. what’s on it?” rafe turned to you quickly, excited you brought it up and not the sweat thing. he extended his hand again, “i have a callous, look . . ”

[r1nstaaa]

matching tattoos [j.jk]

masterlist

warnings: none!! just some jungkook fluff for my beloved @zzzmayalol i wld recommend listening to amoeba by clairo while reading <3 enjoy!!

“Hey baby.” you said, slipping into the space beside him on the couch just as easily as you did into his heart. He put his phone down and motioned you to get on his lap. 

“hey, pretty.” he had an amused grin on his face, eyes shining bright as if he was looking at a star plucked right out of the solar system. “what’s up?”

“So, um. Funny idea, actually. You can absolutely say no-“ you started.

“Yes.” He deadpanned. “What?” “I said yes, pretty. You have my permission.” He grinned at you. You could’ve sworn your heart did somersaults.

“But you don’t even know what i’m planning to do, kookie.” you said through a chuckle. “What if i was planning on harvesting your organs to go out and sell them?” “With an eyeshadow palette? I don’t think so.”

You rolled your eyes, though your action had no bite to it. Man, he had you right where he wanted you. Always. He never even had to try.

“Alright. You caught me. Can i colour your tattoos?” “You know the answer, baby.”

It had been about twenty minutes since then. You decided just the eyeshadow wouldn’t be enough so you went and looked for the markers you swore were in your room somewhere. You were straddling his lap, holding his wrist in your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world. His tattoos were mostly all bold and intimidating, all sharp lines and deep ink. But right now? they were covered in all different hues of blue, pink and little stars and doodles here and there.

“You think this one deserves a permanent spot here?” he said, motioning towards the little star you’d drawn where his palm connected to his wrist. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, not quite looking up. You were so focused. He found it adorable. 

“I’m saying, I wanna make it real. Let’s get matching tattoos? I’ll draw it on your shoulder. Or wherever you’d like. If you want to, of course.” You were malfunctioning. Your boyfriend of a little over a year just suggested getting matching tattoos with you? while you were sitting on his lap? your heart felt like it was purposely trying it’s best to thump right out of your chest.

He just watched you with a lazy smile as you visibly froze up in his lap, but his expression softened a little when you didn’t respond. “Hey, it’s okay if you d-“ You cut him off with a soft kiss. You didn’t really trust your words as of now, totally caught off guard by his suggestion to even think. 

One thing was for sure, though. There was absolutely no one else you would rather do this with.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes, then?” he chuckled against your lips, going back to kissing you with a tenderness that made you wonder if he thought you were made of glass, or something so precious that he wouldn’t even dare to taint it with his touch.

Well, atleast to him you were.

“You might have to start charging for this. You’re too dedicated.” he teased.

“You could never afford me.” You said through a chuckle, eyes focused on the part of his forearm you were busy colouring. 

His fingers absentmindedly traced circles on your knee. “If it means you’ll keep touching me like this, I’d give you everything.” 

Your hand paused, warmth rising up your neck. But before you could react, he leaned in and kissed your nose. “Keep going, Picasso.” he murmured.

You tried pretending to be unimpressed, but the way the corners of your mouth tilted up just a little gave it away. “Fine, but no smudging my masterpiece.”

He just chuckled, letting you turn his tough tattoos into something entirely yours, just like he was.

[blairenqs]

୨୧ FIRST KISS ✧ SPENCER REID

───── IN WHICH 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 !

𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗂𝖽 𝓍 𝒻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝟣.𝟢𝖪 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ♡ ⎯⎯ 𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝒾𝖵𝖤

YOU HAVE BEEN SEEING spencer reid for about three months now, and it still felt so weirdly surreal.

working at the bau was a challenging task enough, but falling for someone as brilliant, kind, and utterly endearing as spencer reid had added a whole new layer to your life.

it wasn’t something you planned—it never was in a place like the bau, where the cases were tough and heavy, and relationships were rare to have.

but spencer was different.

he wasn’t like anyone else. his shy smiles, his awkward rambles about random facts, the way he held his coffee mug with both hands like it was the most precious thing in the world—it all had you wrapped around his finger before you even realized it.

he didn’t seem to know the effect he had on you, and that only made him more charming—you’ve never been able to resist his soft, hesitant energy, and now that you were dating, you couldn’t help but indulge in the affection you felt for him. —READ MORE!

you had a soft spot for him—a big one. and tonight, after another sweet date, that affection bubbled out in over in a way neither of you quite expected.

spencer walked you to your apartment door, just as he always did—it was one of the many little things he did that showed you how thoughtful he was, even if he tried to play it ‘cool’.

his hand rested gently at your back as you approached the door, his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“this was really nice,” he said softly, his voice laced with that nervous energy you found so endearing. he rocked back on his heels, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat as he looked at you through his lashes.

“i mean, i know we’ve only been to that restaurant once before, but statistically, the likelihood of it becoming ‘our spot’ is… probably high.”

you smiled, biting back a laugh. “i like the sound of that a lot, our spot.”

his face lit up at your words, the corners of his lips pointing into a bashful grin that made your heart flutter.

spencer reid, the genius profiler with an iq of 187 and an eidetic memory, could still blush like a schoolboy when you said something sweet to him.

“good,” he said quietly, his voice a soft whisper. his gaze lingered on you, his brown eyes warm and unwavering, and for a moment—the world around you two seemed to fade away.

you felt a surge of affection rise in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed him.

it was a short kiss, just a gentle press of your lips against his, but it was enough to send spencer into a complete slump.

when you pulled back, he stood there frozen, his eyes wide and his lips parted as if he was trying to form words but couldn’t.

you giggled softly at his shyness, taking a step back toward your door. “goodnight, spence.”

but before you could turn the handle, his hand shot out to gently grab your wrist. you turned back to him—surprised, and found him looking at you with an expression you couldn’t figure out.

shy—yes, but there was something else there too, something that clouded the room with no words.

“c-can i… can i kiss you again?” he stammered, his voice unsteady and shaking with nervousness. your heart melted on the spot. “you can do whatever you want, spence.”

that was all the encouragement he needed—his hands came up to cup your face, his long fingers threading gently into your hair as he leaned in and kissed you.

this time it wasn’t just a quick, hesitant peck. it was soft and slow, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak.

you responded immediately, your hands finding their way to his chest as you leaned into him—his touch was careful at first, hesitant, as if he was afraid of doing it wrong.

but as the kiss deepened, he grew more confident. his hands slipped down to your neck, his thumbs brushing your jawline as he tilted your head just slightly to get a better angle.

you sighed into the kiss, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his sweater—his lips were impossibly soft, and he tasted faintly of the honey he’d stirred into his tea earlier.

every little thing about him made your heart race and you couldn’t help but tug gently at his hair—resulting in a soft, surprised sound from him.

it was like a spark had been lit. spencer’s grip on your neck tightened just slightly, his fingers digging in with a new kind of urgency that sent a shiver down your spine.

he kissed you harder, his movements reckless and desirable, like he couldn’t get enough of you. you weren’t much better. your hands slid up to his shoulders, then around to the back of his neck, your fingers threading through his hair.

you pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together as the kiss grew more heated. “spence,” you whispered against his lips, breathless.

he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to catch his breath—his eyes were half-lidded, his cheeks flushed, and his lips red and swollen from kissing.

he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and it made your heart ache in the best way.

“do you…” you hesitated, your voice a soft whisper as you ran your fingers through his hair. “do you want to stay the night?”

spencer blinked, his lips parting as he processed your words. and then, in a voice so sure it made your stomach flip, he said—“absolutely.”

a giddy laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it—and he smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he kissed you again, soft and sweet and full of unspoken words.

the night was just beginning, but as far as you were concerned—you’d already found your favorite part. spencer reid was yours.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

© blairenqs 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

✧ 𝑓. i’m so stressed with school rn oh my god 😭 send help plz. also thank u guys for 100 followers already !! 🥹🫶 i’m so honoured with all the support hehe <3 also this was inspired by early seasons spencer if u couldn’t tell 😔 #imissmyshaylaaaa

𓂃ㅤ 𝓉𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ୨୧ @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @lcvealwayss @viennasolace ♡ thank you so much for joining !

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: your heart in a note

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: arcane

rating: PG

genre: sweet fluffy romance, some angst, Salo hating

pairing: viktor x reader with wingman jayce but you have to squint

summary: never having a valentine wasn't something you considered a fault, until jayce opened his big mouth. now salo is trying to get your attention and you suddenly have a secret admirer?

Request:

I wanted to request for your Valentine’s Day fics one where Viktor is a secret admirer and starts leaving the reader little notes and gifts after reader says she never had a Valentine before. He’s just nervous to confess to her and is trying to build up the courage to. 

NOTE: its really long... like its long. just a heads up.

“You’ve never… what?” Jayce asks stunned. Your cheeks turn red as you glare at him. 

“No, I have never had a valentine, Jayce.” You respond, a tension migraine coming on as you looked at the man, knowing he meant well, but was hitting a nerve that you didn’t know existed. To most everyone you were happy with no significant other. It was a common ground that you and Viktor had found, as he too had not really had time for a serious relationship, nor really found the desire either. You had always had a small hope that maybe he would make the time for you, but that hadn’t happened yet, so it sat tabled.

“But that’s super important! Valentine’s is one of the best holidays to celebrate. It’s to show people in your life that you love them. That you care. You’ve never had a valentine?” He asks again. Your responding slow blink as your glare didn’t subside had the intended effect as he slowly backed off. 

“Not everyone needs a ��valentine” to show love to others.” Viktor responded, being wholly unhelpful and completely quiet as Jayce got into one of his excitable moments. 

“Yes, but someone as lovely as they are? Someone should be your valentine. I would be but I’m Mel’s and she’s mine.” He said, very seriously. Neither you nor Jayce saw Viktor’s shoulders stiffen at that. 

“I’m going to find you someone! Mel will know someone!” Jayce said.

“What about Viktor? He doesn’t have one! Find one for him!” You protested as Jayce was already throwing his jacket on. 

“Nope he’s married to his work! I’m going to find you a special person for your valentine, don’t worry!” Jayce was out the door, with you staring, mouth agape after him. 

“Why doesn’t he choose you? You’re older than I am. You need someone first.” You grumbled as you grabbed the journal you needed from Viktor’s desk. He huffed in response and continued working as you groaned. This was going to be horrific. 

___________________

The next day Jayce brings around Salo. He shows him some of the lab and you just get a feeling that something odd is off. You realize it all too late when Jayce mentions Valentine’s Day. 

“What are you doing for Valentine’s Day, Salo?” He asked, his question seemingly innocent. 

“Oh, most likely going to the Valentine’s Day party that is being thrown this year.” Salo raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Why are you asking, Tails? Want an invite?” He sneers. “Oh no, no! I was seeing if you were spending it with anyone!” 

“Oh I’m flattered Talis, but I am alone and not accepting company.” Salo’s response looks positively horrified. You look at Jayce trying to get his attention to stop this, knowing where it was going but he either doesn’t see you or ignores you. 

“No, I’m spending it with Mel, but I have a friend who is looking for a date.” Jayce says, peaking Salo’s interest. 

“Who’s the friend, pray tell?” Salo inquires, as Jayce points over at you. Your eyes wide as Salo glides up to you. 

“Oh, well, now… I may need some company after all now.” He smiles, and for some reason it makes your stomach twist. “I don’t believe we’re acquainted.” He holds out his hand, and as you take it to shake it, he kisses your hand. “It’s a pleasure. You need a date for Valentine’s?” Salo asks. 

“I-um… Well…” You stutter, your brain not catching up quick enough for a quip to get him to stop touching you. Jayce looks extraordinarily happy and you for half a moment want to throw him in the forge. Viktor suddenly appears at your side, a dark look in his eyes. His hand immediately grabs your elbow, for a moment grounding you. 

“I need your help with this equation.” He said, his voice leaving no room for argument, as you withdrew your hand. You smiled hesitantly at Salo.

“I apologize, I must go.” You say to Salo. Something registers in Viktor’s eyes as he looks at you and then Salo. 

“Ah, yes, sorry to pull her away.” 

“Oh, no worries. We can continue our lovely conversation later.” Salo purred as he pulled back. Jayce’s smirk not leaving his face as he watched Viktor pull you away from everything. You looked back to see Jayce speaking to Salo and then Salo leaving as Viktor guided you over to his desk by the small of your back. You looked at him questioningly, but much more at ease. 

“Thank you.” You whispered to him as he gathered up some papers for you.

“You are welcome, but I did need you, just so happened that it was at that moment.” Viktor said, handing you the papers and directing you back over with instructions to look over the equation. You nod, but look back over at the man who was now hunched back over his desk, feeling grateful but confused. For a man seemingly so sure of himself, his presence left you completely lost sometimes.

_______________

With five days until Valentines Salo became a very annoying presence that would pop in to occasionally talk you up, flirt with you, bring you extravagant gifts… And they all made you sigh. You guess you appreciated his thoughtfulness, but even that was questionable because the man, since Jayce had opened his big mouth, had not taken any time to learn anything about you. So all the gifts that had been given were generic. 

Until today. When you walked in and surprisingly was the first one in the lab. You see your desk and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, a few selections of chocolates, which you love and the pen that you were eyeing to buy, but wasn’t willing to spend that amount of money sitting there in the open. You picked up the pen and looked at it. You quickly realized it was customized. The color, which was your favorite was not available in the base line versions, and your name was engraved on it as well. You were inspecting it as you heard Jayce and Viktor walk in. 

“Whatcha got there?” Jayce asked coming up behind you. “Oh, did Salo leave this gift for you?” You froze, looking at everything and saw a note. Picking it up and opening the note as Viktor came to look on your left side, you read the note.

“Admiring from afar,

Your beauty is beyond compare.

My thoughts feel bizarre,

As you haunt them continuously.

-Your Secret Admirer”

“Not Salo.” You whisper, running your hands over the writing, that looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t place it. 

“Getting popular, are you?” Viktor asked, a sly smile on his face,

“Oh, hush.” Your face heating up, as Viktor’s chuckle carried through the lab as he headed to his desk. 

You placed the flowers in a makeshift vase, and placed the chocolates next to it. Just as you were finished arranging everything, Salo walks in, looking at the flowers and chocolates.

“Oh, I see you got the delivery I sent you.” He says calmly, a proud smirk on his face. 

“What?” You gasped, looking at him.

“What!” Viktor ground out, whipping around in his chair with a speed you had never seen. 

“Yes, of course. I have to make sure my valentine receives the best.” He says. Your eyes narrow at him, not believing him completely. 

“The lab was completely locked all night and the only people who have a key is us three.” Viktor’s eyes narrow at Salo.

“I have my ways. Don’t you have papers to grade, assistant?” Salo cheerfully asked. Your eyes widened as Viktor was starting to get up. You and Jayce were quicker though. 

“Salo, that’s enough.” Jayce said, standing up and placing himself between you and Viktor. “Viktor is my partner.”

“Exactly, do not talk about Viktor like that.” You ground out. “And if this is from you, I do not want it.”

“You don’t want it?” Salo looks offended. “I do not want it.” You repeat. “You insult those closest to me, you haven’t taken any initiative to even learn anything about me… I do not accept your half hearted affections, Salo. You are a wonderful business partner, and that’s what we can stay.” 

Salo huffs, looks at the three of you and then leaves. Jayce sighs as he leaves. “I’m going to need to fix that,” He looks at both you and Viktor, “But it’s fine, he was totally out of line.” Viktor glares at Jayce.

“I’m not sure that I even want this anymore if it’s from Salo.” You sigh looking at the flowers and chocolate. “It just doesn’t make sense though. What Salo has been bringing and then this… He didn’t even mention the pen or the note.” You say, thinking out loud. 

“Then that means…” Jayce starts.

“It’s not from Salo.” You finish, your eyes lighting up. “But he took credit for it!” You look at Jayce and Viktor indigently. 

Viktor scoffs. “How does this surprise any of us?” He asks, walking over to his desk. Jayce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It doesn’t, just causes more problems to deal with.” Jayce mutters and stalks off to his desk. You sit back down and look at your flowers, gleeful now that they weren’t tainted with the thought of Salo buying them for you. 

________________________

The next day greeted you with another gift from your new secret admirer, and no Salo in sight. Which meant it was a glorious day. 

Sweet Milk filled chocolates from the Undercity, a small trinket that you had been looking at weeks ago at one of the vendor stalls and another note. 

“Though some might try to steal my thunder, 

I’m much more subdued than lightning. 

But I must tell you that you are a wonder,

And that makes you so much more frightening.

-Your Secret Admirer”

“Frightening? Am I scary?” You turn to look at the two men across from you. “No!” Jayce starts, his hands emphasizing his point as he shakes them and his head at the same time. 

“I think what they meant, is that you are a wonder. You’re awe striking. And that is what is frightening to them, because you are so wonderful. They obviously feel some hesitancy telling you their identity. Must be some insecurity there.” Viktor says plainly. 

“You’re blushing Viktor! Oh, you must be thinking of someone that is a wonder too, huh? That’s where this sage wisdom comes from.” You laugh, as you place the small trinket next to the flowers and continue about your day, a smile on your face whenever you saw the gifts that were starting to collect near your desk. 

______________

You wondered desperately who your secret admirer was. You automatically crossed off Jayce and Viktor, both seeming to have their own interests. Part of you was sad at that thought though, you sighed as you settled on your couch for the first quiet night in your apartment in a while. 

You had wanted it to be Viktor so badly. Shocked that he had never caught your stares as he worked, or how you would get there early so you could have coffee ready, or how you’d stay late just to spend more time with him. He was kind with a sharp sense of humor. Overly fond was an understatement of how you felt about him. 

It was obvious that he didn’t feel that way about you. Not after today’s talk and how he blushed? You wondered who he was interested in, or possibly even already dating. Was it Skye? They had known each other for a while, it would make sense. 

Your body tensed before relaxing, feeling tears prick at your eyes at the idea of Viktor being with someone else. Quickly blinking them away, you got up, rubbing your eyes harshly and brought yourself to bed. This bout of emotion must be from lack of sleep. Nothing else, and a good sleep would cure it. 

You settled into bed and drifted off quickly, your dreams haunted by golden eyes.

_______________

By the time it was the day before Valentine’s Day, your secret admirer had upped the ante on what they had given you each day. On the third day, was a book about philosophy that you had mentioned in passing that you wanted, in addition to another book on theoretical physics, which you had been studying to see if the hex core could be utilized in some kind of instant transportation. On the fourth day, well, that was the first time someone delivered something to you. A man walked in with a delivery of half a dozen of your favorite pastries, coffee and lunch. Including lunch for Viktor and Jayce too. 

You all had sat around discussing who this secret admirer might be, no one coming up with anything concrete. 

“I swear I have seen their handwriting though.” You mused as you bit into your pastry again, not catching the small bit of creme that clung to your top lip. “It’s bothering me that I can’t remember where.” You pursed your lips. 

“Ah, you have something…” Viktor started, motioning to your mouth. 

“Oh my gosh!” You laughed and wiped the opposite side. “Did I get it?”

“No, no. Here.” Viktor quickly took his thumb and wiped across the top of your lip transferring the filling to his thumb which he promptly licked off. Continuing to eat his own pastry, seemingly not at all realizing what he just did, you and Jayce look at each other, bewildered. 

“Um, thank you?” Your voice unsure and confused. Viktor looked up, seeing Jayce’s questioning look and your face that turned tomato red, his eyes widened. 

“I apologize, if I overstepped.” He said, looking at you, his ears burning even brighter than before you realized. 

“It’s okay. You just took me by surprise.” You smiled, trying to reassure the man. Meanwhile your heart thumped loudly out of your chest as you finished the rest of your pastry trying to look like you were reading your notes. Missing Jayce giving a knowing look at Viktor. 

_____________________

Valentine’s came, and you were giddy. Getting dressed in the morning, you wore a cute outfit and sprayed a little bit of fragrance to commemorate the occasion. Jayce was already leaving the lab with a few dozen of roses. 

“Bye! See you tomorrow!” He yelled down the hallway. You watched him leave and as you entered the lab, you saw Viktor standing there seemingly staring after Jayce looking shocked. 

“The largest bouquet I’ve ever seen.” You chuckled. Viktor smiled.

“Eh, not the largest I’ve ever seen.” 

“Viktor!” You laugh and go over to your desk to find a note as well as a small jewelry box. You open the jewelry box first, and almost jump out of your skin when Viktor’s voice sounds off right next to you. 

“I think you’re supposed to read the note first.” 

“When did you become so invested in this?” You ask, still opening the jewelry box. 

“When I wanted to figure out how they keep getting into this lab.” He mutters. 

“Ah, so Jayce is helping them?” The tone of your voice joking, as opening the box reveals a stunning purple and blue opal pendant necklace. You blink and grab the note.

“The hexcore shifts colors like a rainbow,

But you shine brighter than it could ever know.

Meet me at the docks tonight a nine.

We could have dinner and wine?

-Your Secret Admirer”

“Oh my goodness, they asked me out!” You say turning to Viktor. 

“They did? You better be careful it could be a serial killer.” He jokes. 

“Haha.” You deadpan as you take the necklace out and start to put it on. 

“Here,” Viktor stops you, motioning for the necklace. “Let me help you.” You nod and turn your back to him. He gently places the necklace down and clasps it with ease, settling it against your neck. You feel his fingers start to drag down your spine, feeling a shiver course through your body. 

“Lasko,” His voice barely a whisper. Somehow he’s close enough that you feel his breath from the word against your neck. Your body overheating at his closeness, wanting to be closer. Suddenly, the doors to the lab swing open, bursting the moment like a bubble and entering in Skye. You both almost jumping away from each other.

“I have the reports for you! It took me a while but I got them together.” She starts off on what is in the reports and you sigh, looking at Viktor being swept away, feeling possibly more confused then you did before.

_________________

With the day ending, you see Viktor still working as you were getting ready to leave, so you could go on your date. 

“Are you not getting ready to go on your date?” You ask, as you throw on your jacket. 

“My what?” Viktor’s head whips up at you, his eyes wide. 

“Your date? You obviously are dating someone. Don’t you have a date tonight?” You clarify as his shoulders physically relax. 

“Oh, no. I-um… no. No I don’t.” He looks off to the left. 

“Well, depending on how this date goes, I’ll dash and bring the left overs back. We can eat them together and I’ll steal whatever cake they have. Okay?” You say, feeling bad leaving him alone. 

“You’re too kind. Go have fun.” You smile and quickly head off to get ready. 

__________________

The hour you gave yourself two get ready went by far too quickly. You found yourself standing on the docks, listening to the gentle breeze and the water lap against the shore, in a calming, rhythmic pattern. Almost drowning out the beating of your own heart in your ears. You focused on the sound of the water missing the footsteps of someone coming up behind you. You jump a bit, being taken from your thoughts as you hear a throat clear. 

Turning you see Viktor standing there with a small bouquet of flowers, your favorites again. He looks positively uncomfortable and nervous as his grip in his cane constantly changes. 

“Viktor?” Your voice asking more than stating the very obvious answer to the question you’ve had all week. “You’ve been my secret admirer?”

“I have.” He nods, looking almost for the first time in his life that if he were to talk more he might either fling himself over the dock to be sick or to get out of this exchange. 

“Did you want to be? Because you look positively horrified to be here.” You say, stepping forward. 

“No, I did! I-Of course I did. I’m just- Eh, a little nervous I guess. On how you’re currently perceiving everything.” He shrugs, looking away. The unspoken words being him worried of how you were perceiving him.

“You really went to the trouble of getting me all of those gifts this week? Even the sweet milk filled chocolate from the Undercity, that I mentioned one time that I liked?” You asked, stepping forward again. 

“Of course I did. I remember everything you say, because everything you say is valuable to me.” Viktor’s words are so earnest you stop yourself for a second. 

“I loved everything.” You whisper, taking the final steps so that you were chest to chest. He looks down at you, those golden eyes that haunted your dreams shining in the low light. 

“I had hoped you would.” He whispered, wordlessly handing you the bouquet. You take it in your left hand, your right hand reaching up to cup his cheek. Golden eyes widening at your closeness. 

“Can I kiss you?” Your voice brushing past him, feeling the responding shudder from his body. 

“Yes.” Is the only word you heard before your lips were on his. His left hand reaching to your waist while your tried to somehow pull him closer with just the hand you had anchored on his face. The moan in the back of his throat as you deepened the kiss was felt more than it was heard, but the small whine from both of you as you parted was almost in harmony. 

“I promised you dinner.” Viktor whispered. “We’re late.” 

“And wine.” You prompted the reminder, as he smiled at you. Almost as blinding as the sun itself on a summers day. 

“And wine.” Was his agreement as he pulled back and offered you his hand. Taking it in yours as you both began to walk back up the docks, you suddenly realized.

“I had recognized the handwriting on the notes!” You exclaimed. Viktor looked at you amused. “It was your writing. It was your hand writing!” You shake your head. “I’m an idiot.” 

“Your perception skills do leave much to be desired, but it worked out in my favor. I truly thought I had ruined everything by buying that one trinket you wanted when we were at the shops a few weeks ago.” Viktor chuckled. 

“I just figured someone was watching or you told them, since it was just us there!” You explained. “That’s not a great reason is it?” Realizing that your reasoning was not sound really. Viktor just looked down at you, still walking with a slight smirk. 

“I never said I loved you for your perception ability.” He kissed the top of your head as you leaned against him, breathing in the soft scent of his cologne and the smell of grease that seemed to cling to him. 

“Wait! You love me?” Your voice loud as you pull off him and round to face him, walking somewhat backwards. Viktor’s laugh echoing through the square. This was definitely the start of many amazing Valentine’s Days.

[zeroseuniverse]

Oh my gosh I need to know how their Wooyoung's date goes please 🙏🏻 💕

You Are The Only Exception

Word Count: 832 Summary: "You brought me to a café?" you mused as you slid into your seat. "I was expecting something more… chaotic." Pairing: Wooyoung X Reader

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Wooyoung showed up at your door looking… different. Not drastically so—he was still Wooyoung, still had that effortless charm—but something about him felt quieter. Like, for once, he wasn’t trying to fill the air with noise.

"You clean up nice," you teased, eyeing the way he’d traded his usual playful wardrobe for something a little neater—still casual, but with an intentionality you hadn’t seen before.

"Had to step up my game," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn’t want to mess this up."

That caught you off guard. Wooyoung never seemed nervous. Yet here he was, shifting his weight slightly, watching you like your reaction actually mattered.

You softened. "So, what’s the plan?"

He perked up at that. "Come find out."

The two of you ended up at a quiet little café, tucked away from the usual crowds. It was cozy, the kind of place that felt untouched by time, with warm lighting and soft music playing in the background.

"You brought me to a café?" you mused as you slid into your seat. "I was expecting something more… chaotic."

Wooyoung chuckled. "I thought about it. But I wanted to actually talk to you—without distractions, without me being, y'know, me all the time."

You tilted your head. "And who are you being right now?"

His gaze flickered to yours, steady in a way that made your heart stutter. "Just… someone who really likes you."

You weren’t sure how to respond to that.

For once, there were no jokes, no over-the-top gestures. Just Wooyoung, looking at you like he meant every word.

The conversation came easily after that. He asked about your favorite books, your childhood memories, the little things that most people never thought to ask. And he listened—really listened. No interruptions, no teasing, just quiet attention.

At some point, you realized how natural it felt. How easy it was to just be with him.

"You’re not what I expected," you admitted, stirring your drink.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I mean, I knew you were obnoxious," you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp. "But I didn’t expect you to be… this thoughtful."

He smiled, something small and genuine. "I meant what I said. I never wanted this to be a game."

You let that settle between you, warm and certain.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe it.

The café had long since emptied of its earlier rush, leaving behind only the quiet hum of conversation from a few late-night customers. Your drinks sat half-finished between you, but neither of you made a move to leave.

You weren’t ready for this night to end.

Wooyoung leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping lightly against his cup. He had relaxed sometime during the night, the nervous edge from earlier melting into something softer, more open. His usual playful grin was still there, but it was gentler now—not a mask, just him.

"You know," he started, tilting his head, "I think this is the longest we’ve ever talked without you threatening me."

You laughed. "Don’t get used to it."

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "Too late. I like this side of you."

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. "You act like I’m some cold-hearted villain."

"Never said that," he countered smoothly. "But you do have walls."

Your fingers tightened slightly around your cup. "And you don’t?"

Wooyoung exhaled a soft laugh, nodding as he conceded the point. "Fair enough." He traced the rim of his cup with his fingertip, suddenly thoughtful. "I think people assume I don’t take things seriously because I joke around so much."

You stayed quiet, sensing there was more he wanted to say.

"But I do," he murmured. "Especially when it comes to the people that matter."

Your heart did something complicated in your chest.

"Wooyoung…"

His eyes lifted to yours, warm and steady. "I don’t want to rush you," he said quietly. "I know I’ve spent so much time pretending none of this mattered, but it does. You do. And if you need time to figure out how you feel about that, I’ll wait."

You weren’t sure when it had happened—when the flirt who drove you insane became the person sitting across from you, saying things that made your breath catch.

Maybe it had always been there, underneath the teasing and the quips. Maybe you had just refused to see it.

The weight of his words settled between you, steady and patient.

"I don’t think I need time," you admitted, voice quieter now. "I think I just needed to hear you say it."

His lips parted slightly, as if surprised by your honesty. But then, slowly, that warm, genuine smile spread across his face—the one he didn’t show just anyone.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Wooyoung reached across the table, fingers brushing tentatively against yours. It wasn’t a grand gesture, nothing dramatic. Just warmth, a quiet promise between you.

And for the first time, you let yourself hold on.

[orikixx]

Blueprints & Heartbeats (9/?)

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Featuring: Nanami Kento

Cw: fem reader, wc 2.8k words, not proofread

Summary: academic rivals to lovers! a mixup in the architecture group project forces you to team up with Nanami Kento, the serious and stoic student. But maybe, he isn’t as brooding as you thought?

Author's note: to the anon who motivated me to continue this.. thank you😭 I’ve been working on it for a while so I hope you guys like this💕

It’s almost 4 pm now, and Nanami is mentally beating himself up over whether he went too far, opening himself up like that to you. He’s pacing around his dorm, nervously eyeing his palette, colorful oil paints laid out in neat, deliberate swatches, a few small brushes and a glass of water waiting nearby.

You knock on his door, a little hesitant. It’s not as if you haven’t been here before, but this time, it feels… different. The air surrounding you is buzzing, barely able to contain your excitement as your foot impatiently taps against the pavement. “Wonder what’s taking him so long,” you murmur, raising your hand to knock again, yet this time, it lands on his broad chest.

“Good afternoon, y/n. Sorry for the wait.” The moment you look up at him, there’s a big smile plastered on your face, and you happily step inside. Nanami looks at you, dumbfounded, until he finally closes the door. “You’re such a dork, Kenny”. He sighs at that, trying to be as little awkward as possible when you hug him, your small frame lost in his.

Nanami feels like he’ll never get used to you, even as you sit on the stool he’s set in front of his own, looking like you belong exactly in his dorm room. “You’re staring so much, didn’t even start drawing me yet!” “I’m.. figuring out your proportions.” He mentally curses himself for that, knowing that with the amount of time he’s spent observing you, he remembers every single detail about your face.

Suddenly, you light up. “Do you need me to do any specific poses? I can think of a few.. interesting ones”. Nanami groans loudly, causing you to giggle.

“You’re so uptight again, is something wrong?” Your eyebrows furrowed, a small pout on your lips, as the man in front of you suddenly won’t take his eyes off the canvas.

Nanami feels blush creeping up his neck, and he remembers his conversation with Gojo, thinking about how maybe he should get over himself and ask you out today.

“I’m all good. You just look very captivating today, even more than usual.”

“You can’t just say that!”

Nanami is unsure of what to respond to that, having mustered up all his courage just to tell you that last sentence. He blushes furiously now, picking up his graphite pencil and starting to roughly sketch your features. When his eyes finally dart in your direction, he can tell you’re blushing as well.

You try relaxing your face from your former pout at his sternness, not wanting to make this assignment any harder for him. “So.. do you have any other friends, that I don’t know of?” You hear Nanami sucking in a breath, and try your hardest to keep a natural expression.

“Not really, no. You’re the only one who stayed long enough to make me open up.”

You smile at that, though it’s a rather sad statement. “Would you mind keeping that expression for me?” Nanami’s eyebrows are now furrowed, staring at your face with concentration.

“The smile?”

“Yes, it makes your eyes appear lighter.”

You smile harder at that, and when Nanami finally looks at the canvas, picking up a small brush, you can see a small smile forming on his lips as well.

Nanami feels like his heart might explode out of his chest. The girl he’s been wanting for… well, too long, is currently giving him fuck me eyes without even realizing it. He tries focusing on the drawing instead, soft oil strokes on white canvas, when you speak again.

“You think it’s time for another brainrot lesson?” Immediately, a loud groan follows, making you laugh. “Whatever you want, y/n. Just stay still.” “Whatever you say, Kenny.”

You ponder for a moment, thinking about which brainrot should you teach the poor man this time. “Alright kento, you got two options yeah? When John Pork is calling, do you pick up or not?” “Who is John Pork?” Nanami sounds so serious it scares you, and you hold your laugh in.

“I’ll show you later. Now, since we’ve got plenty of time, what do you know about low taper fade?” “As far as I’m concerned, it’s a haircut, correct?” “You sound terrified, Kento”. Nanami gets up from his stool, now towering over you.

“Such a bratty little thing.” His fingers come up to trace your cheek, almost, before he stops himself. “Stay just like this for a moment,” Nanami says, surprisingly soft. You, of course, obey, looking up at his face, body looming over yours.

Nanami observes your face, trying to etch it into his soul. “Can I..” he murmurs softly, rough fingers brushing against your jaw. You nod, and he gently traces your cheek. You can feel blush spreading all over your neck, surely dusting your cheeks pink.

“Kento?” You look up at him, heart thrumming so loud he must be able to hear it as well. “This is necessary for the process, y/n.” He whispers that, hazel eyes lingering on your lips as his fingers trace your temple.

Your face is on fire now, eyes gleaming as you try catching Nanami’s gaze, yet his eyes are glued to your lips. “You know, you could kiss me if you want to that bad,” you say softly.

In just a moment, his hands are off you, and he’s facing away. “Fuck, too far? I didn’t mean to Kento, I was just-“

“For the love of god y/n, you sit here looking like a fucking angel, and then you say these things..”

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, and you sit there, speechless, for the first time.

“You.. what?” Nanami sighs, finally turning back to look at you. “It would be so wrong of me, to kiss you without even asking you out first..” You stand up, feeling his warm body almost touching yours, and you sigh.

“Well then, you better ask me out Kento, we don’t have all day”. Nanami notices, of course, that although you put on a confident front, your fingers nervously twirl the edge of your tank top, and your eyes are somewhat worried, looking up at him.

He tries to stay composed, ears bright red when he takes your hand is his bigger one, bringing it to his chest.

“Would you like to go on a date with me, y/n? I would love to take you to out, if you would allow it.” He braces himself for rejection, even though he knows you feel the same, as your big, gleaming eyes now happily squint at him.

“Fuck yeah, took you long enough, silly boy,” you say happily, arms immediately wrapping around him. You smile so hard your face hurts, burying your face Nanami’s chest, squealing like a little girl until you feel his hands on your shoulders, gently prying you away. You pout at him, crossing your arms and huffing as he chuckles. “Now..” he murmurs, leaning down and finally kissing you.

You stay still for a second, caught by surprise, before your hands immediately tangle in his hair, latching onto his lips like your life depends on it. One of his hands cups your cheek, moving lower to trace your the curve of your jaw before settling at your nape, drawing you deeper into the kiss.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, a taste of something sweet, long desired. Nanami’s lips are firm and surprisingly soft, tasting of coffee and something that’s just uniquely him. You can’t help yourself but bite on his lower lip, making him gasp and let go of the kiss.

You whine at the loss of his warmth, hands moving from his blond locks to grip onto his broad shoulders. Standing on your toes, you whisper in his ear- “You’re so annoying, I barely got to taste you”. Nanami blushes furiously, his hand wandering down to squeeze your hips.

“How am I the annoying one, when you sit here, looking at me with these tantalizing eyes?”

It’s your turn to blush, burying your face in his chest again. “Ugh, you have to stop doing that Kento!” You whine, and he chuckles, kissing the crown of your head.

“Come on, I need to finish your portrait.” With a sigh, you slump back onto the stool, and Nanami sits down at his. He picks up the brush again, continuing the gentle strokes on the canvas before speaking again.

“I’m sorry if I have been.. harsh, with the kiss. It’s a little embarrassing, but I have been craving you for so long, I couldn’t help myself.”

You smile, using all your willpower to not get up and kiss him again. “It’s alright Kento, really, I wanted you for a while as well,” you say, happily watching his cheeks changing shades of red.

“I can’t focus when you tell me things like that y/n. It makes me want to.. never mind.”

“You’re so shy it’s almost funny,” you say with a giggle, making him groan. “Do me a favor, just this once, and talk about anything else, please?”

You can’t say no to his defeated face, so then Nanami quietly cleans his paint brush, listening to you ramble about some show you’ve started watching recently, and how you think he’d like it.

After about an hour of rambling on your side, and hums of agreement on his, the portrait is finished. Nanami carefully places the canvas aside, the oil paint still wet, sticking onto his fingers. It’s almost 6 pm now, and you remember promising Gojo you’d meet up later today. You get up from the stool, quietly walking to stand by Nanami as he washes his hands in the kitchen sink.

The smell of the paint lingers in air of his dorm room, and you sneakily wrap your hands around his waist, hugging him from behind. “Would you mind staying for a little while more?” “Can’t, I promised Satoru I’ll see him today,” you say, smiling when he turns around to look at you. You rest your chin on his chest, looking up at his chiseled face.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Will it be okay if I will pick you up at 7 pm for our date?” “Of course Kenny”. Nanami hums, and you let your body melt against his, his arms wrapping around your lower back as you savor the warmth.

“I can drop you off wherever you two are meeting, if you would like that.” “Awww, Kento you’re so mushy already, love that,” you say and giggle, laughing when he groans and buries his face in your hair. “Seriously though, I wouldn’t mind, thank you” and with that, you plant a small kiss on his cheek.

Still in his embrace, you pull out your phone, calling Gojo. You bicker for a couple minutes, eventually agreeing to meet up at some café downtown. When you hang up, Nanami is already there with his car keys in his hand.

“Are you ready to go? Or do you want to stop by your dorm first?”

“You’re too sweet Kento, and I’m good, we can head there now” you poke his nose before opening his dorm’s door, standing there as you wait for him to exit. “Ladies first,” you snicker with a small smile as he passes you, sighing and shaking his head disapprovingly. After he locks the door, he swiftly opens the passenger seat door for you, humming when you murmur a thank you.

Nanami gets in and starts the car, and once he’s on the highway, he puts his palm on your thigh, thumb brushing the soft skin. “I’m honestly surprised, I thought you’d only be driving in the 10 and 2 position,” you snicker and put your hand on top of his.

“Maybe I’m careful, but I can’t help myself when a beautiful woman is sitting right beside me.” You smile at that, stroking his palm as he stares at the road ahead. After a little while you get to the café, and Nanami pulls over just long enough for you to kiss him and say thanks. “Text me when you need pickup, okay?” “It’s okay, I’ll just walk ba-“ “Just text me.” You sigh, and with another kiss you part ways, as you see Gojo waiting for you at the entrance.

You sigh internally, knowing what’s about to come as you walk towards the white haired man. You approach him, and before even entering the place, he immediately jumps on you with a hug.

“What the fuck was that kiss? Girl you better tell me everything” Gojo almost yells that, and you quickly hush him down, walking inside.

After getting your matcha, and Gojo his overly sweet latte, you two sit down. “Okay so before I start you gotta promise not to yell again, I can’t have everyone here staring,” you say with an eye roll, and he eagerly nods. “Whatever you say, just fucking tell me already!”

You almost laugh at his whiney tone, before telling him about everything that happened with Nanami today. You can tell he’s having a hard time containing his excitement, and when you tell him that Nanami insisted on picking you up as well, he damn near cries.

“There’s no way, he’s definitely obsessed with you y/n” “Stop that, we just kissed!” You bury your face in your hands and whine, cheeks burning as you remember the feeling of Nanami’s lips on yours. “Either way, you clearly like him more than you let on,” Gojo says with a big grin.

“What’s up with that smile? You look creepy as fuck,” you snicker, watching him dramatically feign offense. “Can’t I be happy that my best friend finally got a normal boyfriend?” “He isn’t even my boyfriend yet!” You sigh, sipping on your matcha and leaning back in your chair.

“Oh you want him soooo bad, you’re just clueless to it idiot,” Gojo says, grinning again. You decide to stop fighting with him, and change the topic.

“Did you and Kento, like.. tell something to the professor? When you handled her?” You ask, your voice quieter now. “We did, I thought Nanami told you she won’t come near you again” you sigh, facepalming as you remember that night.

“He did, but we’re supposed to have a class with her tomorrow so I’m wondering how it’s gonna go..” Gojo sighs, grabbing his phone. “I’ll text him, we’ll find a way to handle it before class” he says reassuringly, shooting Nanami a quick text before putting the phone back down.

After another hour of the two of you yapping about absolutely everything, you decide it’s time to go. You send Nanami a text, asking if he’s still okay with picking you up, and he immediately replies that he’s on his way.

Gojo leans over the table, peeking over to read your texts. “Fucking lovebirds, I told you he’s obsessed!” Saying that grants him a smack on the head, making him huff and puff as you two walk outside, and he waits with you until Nanami gets there.

When his car pulls over, you both say goodbye with a quick hug, and you happily walk over to the car, getting in and landing a small kiss on Nanami’s cheek, much to Gojo’s delight, who’s still watching you and how flustered the man beside you gets.

“Thanks for coming Kento, you really didn’t have to,” you say softly, a big smile on your face. You feel like a kid, getting excited to see him when you’ve left his place only a couple hours ago, but you can’t help yourself.

“Of course y/n, it’s my pleasure. I want to make sure you get back safely.” He starts driving, and again puts his hand on your thigh. You don’t say anything this time, you simply play with his fingers for the entire drive. When he stops in front of your dorm, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn around in your seat, now facing him.

“Have a good night Ken, hope you have sweet dreams”. You lean in, and he cups your cheeks, warm lips enveloping yours, and you whine into the kiss. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips, asking for entrance, one that you grant him, moaning softly as the muscle invades your mouth.

Fingers gripping his hair, you break the kiss, panting, your eyes gleaming. Nanami blushes, his breath eventually slowing down. “You too, pretty girl. I’ll see you before class.” You nod and hug him, and then leave the car, entering the dorm building.

You can hear him driving off, and enter your dorm room. You take a deep breath, and finally allow yourself to happily jump around and squeal happily. You can’t believe this, that Nanami actually did all of this just for you. The way he’s changed, everything he said today, sounding all too poetic coming out of his pretty lips.

You sigh dreamily, getting into your pjs, and comfortably cuddle under the thick blankets of your bed, wishing you had asked him to stay over. You may miss him already, which you find slightly embarrassing, but you know you’ll see him tomorrow morning, and you just can’t wait.

Divider credit: @soulari

Taglist: @yourname-exee @realalpacorn @zayuriluvs @galactacium @queenofthekill @nuhahani @nanamineedstherapy @des-todoroki @linaaeatsfamilies @darkstudentsaladbakery @sttaejoon-blog @sosole

[halsteadlover]

𝐀𝐧 𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by @hart-kinsella: Basically, the fan fic could be set at one of Jay's Intelligence colleagues' wedding and mc is one of the bride's closest friends; the bride wants to set her up with one hot cop (could also be one who works on patrol). It could either be that the 'chosen' guy is not Jay, but then mc and Jay naturally connect at the reception (maybe through her wanting to avoid the guy she's set up with) or Jay being the 'set up' guy from minute 1 and them just meeting there (with the usual embaressement that comes from friends insisting you should get together) and hitting it off immediately.

• Warnings: curse words/strong language, mention of alcohol consumption, lots of tension and physical contact, heavy making out, suggestive at the end.

• Word count: 8.8k

• A/N: PLEASE READ ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+ DUE TO SUGGESTIVE THEMES. The way I was so excited about this fic but I reread it and now I hate it why am I like this 😭 Let me know in the comments what do you think about this one, I love you all ❤️

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you said to Kim as you watched her sip the champagne from her glass, her huge ring shining against the lights of the room.

She was radiant, a smile plastered on her lips as wide as you had ever seen her in all the time you were friends. She was happy and your heart exploded with joy seeing her finally have her happy ending with Adam, especially after everything they’ve been through.

She looked beautiful in her white wedding dress and you couldn’t hide the tears of happiness you shed when you saw her walk down the aisle, a radiant smile on her lips. Adam looked at her with eyes so bright and full of love it made you wonder if there’d ever be someone who’d look at you like that, as if you were the only person who mattered, as if without you he couldn’t even breathe.

“Of course it’s a good idea! There’s nothing better than a blind date with a hot cop,” she finished sipping her champagne and set it down on the tray as a waiter walked by, thanking him immediately after. “You don’t trust me? Have I ever let you down on the men front?”

You didn’t respond, just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay there might’ve been some unfortunate meetings but this won’t be the case. Please, please, please. I swear he’s a really cute and good guy!” She begged, putting on her cute puppy face that not even the devil could resist.

Little bitch.

You sighed and rolled your eyes and that was enough to make her clap her hands with joy. “Only because it’s your day.”

“You won’t regret it, I promise.”

The fact was you were already regretting it.

You had never been very good at blind dates, you hated not knowing who you were going to talk to and spend the evening with, you wanted to be able to decide first if you liked that person. What if you didn’t like him, or if he didn’t like you? It would’ve been very awkward.

Actually, it was. It was definitely awkward.

Kim had pointed out from afar a man who was talking to Adam—ignoring how the latter was watching Kim without ever taking his eyes off her even while talking to other people—and you took your time to observe him.

He was a tall man, from behind you noticed his ash blonde hair and a statuesque body that was embraced by a tuxedo. Without even saying anything, Kim grabbed your hand and dragged you towards them, ignoring your signs of protest.

You were so nervous and you hated it.

And it certainly didn’t help that Kim had made it her mission to pair you up with someone, since you were the only single girl in your group of friends.

But you were happy, you weren’t lonely, you were fine being alone and that was important, you didn’t need a man by your side to determine your happiness. You defined your own happiness.

“Hi babe,” Kim greeted her husband, who smiled before sliding his arm around her hips and kissing her. The two of them were so in love it was almost disgusting. “Sorry I was rude. Caleb, I wanted you to meet my friend.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you felt the man’s gaze on you. “Oh so you’re the famous Y/n right? I’ve heard so much about you.”

God please have mercy.

“I hope only good things,” you replied with a smile and offered him your hand, which he immediately shook. The way his eyes moved up and down your body made your skin crawl, and the smirk he had plastered across his lips as he looked at you didn’t suggest anything good.

You pulled your hand away, forcing a smile as he started to speak, and cursed both Kim and Adam when you saw them sneak away, both giggling as they left you alone with that guy.

As they say, a woman’s sixth sense is like a gift, it never fails.

And it didn’t even take half an hour of talking to Caleb to realize he was self-centered and you’d never see him again. He talked your ear off as if you’d known each other your whole life, focusing mostly on him, his work, the gym, his exploits. You nodded every now and then, just to give him the impression you were listening when in reality your mind had dissociated after the first ten minutes of conversation.

And by conversation you obviously meant monologue.

He didn’t ask you anything, and by nothing you really meant nothing, not how old you were, your job, your hobbies, in short the simple questions one asks when one is getting to know another.

You looked around bored, cursing Kim and yourself with every fiber of your being for letting yourself being dragged—for the million time— in a situation you didn’t want to be in.

You decided you’d never take a single piece of her advice about men ever again.

“Once, when I was still on patrol, there was a robbery a few blocks away. I was alone and when I got there the thief was already running. I’ll make this short but even the commander congratulated me…”

You were trying really hard to listen to him but every time you tried to pay attention, he was still talking about himself. It was hard to follow his conversation/monologue without being fascinated by some random spot in the room like the chandelier.

Caleb was a beautiful man, that was objective. He was tall, broad-shouldered, he had a sculpted physique, defined jaw, eyes as blue as the sky. But beauty wasn’t everything, not when his character was similar to a mollusk.

“Hey baby, here you are, I’ve been looking for you for a while,” a male voice reached your ears from behind and you almost had a heart attack when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. You snapped your head towards the man, finding yourself in front of one of the most beautiful man you’d ever see.

Forget Caleb, who the hell was this man?

You froze, having no idea what to say or do. Who the hell was he? What did he want?

“Sorry it took so long but the line for the bathroom was endless,” the stranger continued and you tried with every fiber of your being to remain impassive. Your body was tense as a violin string as you tried to subtly move away from his grasp.

Breathtaking or not, you didn’t know him.

“Baby? You have a boyfriend? Kim told me you were single,” Caleb exclaimed almost indignantly, alternating his gaze between you and the stranger. You thanked God he was a second-rate cop and had the detective skills of a hamster or he would’ve seen from a mile away this was the first time you’d seen that man around you.

“Oh, well this is pretty new not many people know about us, but we’ve been seeing each other for a while. Thanks for keeping my girlfriend company—”

“Caleb.”

“Carl. Thanks,” the stranger held out a hand and Caleb looked at it before looking back at you and walking away without a word, a furious expression on his face.

You didn’t even bother following him because damn, you were so relieved you got him out of the way.

The stranger’s gaze was on you even though he had removed his arm from around you.

“Well, I guess you need to work on your acting skills but it went well right?”

You widened your eyes, still confused about what the hell was going on. “Who are you?”

“Oh you’re welcome, I didn’t just save you from the most boring date of your life,” he smirked.

You continued to look at him, confused, embarrassed and unable to form a coherent sentence. Who the hell was this man? And why was he so breathtakingly handsome? And why did he just pretend to be your boyfriend?

He held out a hand towards you, a smirk plastered across his lips, acting like he hadn’t just pretended to be in a relationship with a stranger. “I’m Jay Halstead. You must be Y/n right? It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Jay? Why does this sound familiar?

You widened your eyes, not even trying to hide your expression of fear and shock. “How do you know my name?” You asked, taking a step back, ready to run away.

His gaze softened, understanding he must’ve really looked like a stalker. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, I work with Kim in Intelligence. She mentioned you a couple of times and I assumed it was you since you’re the only one of her friends I’ve never met.”

Then you realized why his name was familiar to you. Kim—when talking about her job—had sometimes mentioned a ‘Jay’ and it was nice to finally be able to associate the face with that name, especially if the face was that one.

God he’s so hot.

“Listen,” he continued, raising his hands in surrender, a drink in the left one, “I’m not a stalker I swear—I came off in the wrong way. I just saw you from afar while you were talking to Carl, and you seemed to be in trouble so I thought I’d help. Let’s start over, shall we?”

You tried not to chuckle at the way he got Caleb’s name wrong and stared at him for a moment. He maintained eye contact, his irises locked on yours with no sign of changing direction. You had only just noticed how green his eyes were and you didn’t know why, but something inside you made you no longer want to run away.

You nodded and he smiled triumphantly and, God, he had one of the most beautiful smiles you had ever seen. He held out a hand to you again. “I’m Jay, nice to meet you.”

You tried to suppress a smile of your own and you clasped his hand. “It’s Y/n, the pleasure is mine.”

That handshake sent a spark up your entire arm, not in the cliché kind of way, but in the way that made you feel your body suddenly enveloped in a wave of heat.

He didn’t let go of your hand right away, but you didn’t care. You liked it, you liked the way his grip was strong, firm, confident, but his touch soft at the same time. You liked how his palm felt rough against yours but his skin was warm, a stark contrast to yours.

His thumb skimmed against the back of your hand before he pulled it away, bringing the glass to his lips with his other hand and taking a sip of his drink. All without him ever breaking eye contact with you.

This single innocent gesture left you breathless.

Did I mention he’s so damn hot and sexy?

He looked at you with curiosity, as if he had already decided that from now on his attention would be solely on you.

“This is the part where I have to thank you for saving me from an embarrassing date, isn’t it?”

His eyes flickered for a second on your lips as you spoke and he subtly took a deep breath, taking another sip of his drink. You pretended it didn’t affect you in the slightest even though your stomach had just flipped.

“You not filing a complaint against me is a great thank you,” Jay replied making you laugh, “and besides, I should be the one thanking Kim.”

You tilted your head slightly to the side, looking at him with a questioning expression. “Kim? Why?”

“For setting you up with the wrong guy, might’ve missed my shot otherwise.”

You burst out laughing again and rolled your eyes. “C’mon Jay, is that the best you can do?”

“Ouch,” he put his hand to his chest as if he was in pain. “That really hurt, I may be rusty but I’m not that bad c’mon.”

You smirked. “You’ll survive officer.”

“Nuh, uh. It’s detective, please.”

“My bad, I apologize Detective,” it was your turn to raise your hands in surrender. “But seriously, thank you for saving me from whatever that was.”

He smiled softly at you. “It was a pleasure. You were a couple seconds away from pulling the fire alarm to escape, I couldn’t just stay there and do nothing.”

“Oh, so you make a habit of being a knight and saving damsels in distress?”

“Nah, only the ones that are worth saving,” he replied, and you laughed, feeling that anxious and nervous feeling fade away as you continued to converse—for real this time—with Jay.

“I could’ve gotten away with it, you know,” you crossed your arms and Jay’s eyes flickered, for a millisecond, to your chest, specifically the neckline of your dress.

“Please,” he raised an eyebrow, “if he had kept talking any longer you would’ve ripped your hair out.”

“Stop you’re so dramatic, that’s not true at all,” you rolled your eyes—even though it was the truest thing you had ever heard—making him chuckle. “What’s your poison?” You nodded to his drink as he brought it to his lips and took a sip.

A teasing smile caressed his lips and then it was your turn flicking your gaze to his mouth. You had tried to resist but damn it was so hard. “Bourbon, neat. Effective right?”

You raised an eyebrow, mirroring his playful energy. “Is efficient a new fancy way of saying banal and predictable?”

He let out a soft laugh, the sound so low and warm it made your insides squirm. “Probably,” he countered, “but it’s still a classic.” He slightly tilted his head to the side as his green eyes roamed along your body, lingering for a moment on your dress before meeting your gaze again. You felt every inch of your skin catch fire under his eyes and you couldn’t help but compare Jay’s gaze to Caleb’s, which only made your skin crawl instead. “But it’s not for you. I think you’re more of a champagne kind of woman.”

At that same moment, by pure coincidence, a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses passed not far from you. Jay stopped him and took it, before offering it to you. You blushed, before taking it, your fingers brushing against him. “Thank you.”

You lifted your glass towards him, a quiet smile playing on your lips. “To Kim and Adam,” you said.

“To Kim and Adam,” he repeated voice low and smooth. He raised his glass to meet you, the soft clink echoing between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke—his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. It was just a toast, simple and harmless, but the way he was looking at you? Nothing about it felt simple.

“So, you’re a champagne type of woman,” he smirked.

“Guilty,” you shrugged your shoulders. “But what can I say? I like little sparkle in my life.”

You took another sip of champagne and that time it was your gaze that roamed along his body, perfectly wrapped in the tux he was wearing—over the broad lines of his shoulders, the way his dress shirt stretched just right across his chest.

Man, he looked so good it had to be illegal.

When your eyes returned to his you noticed the way he clenched his jaw and the slightest twitch of his lips as he looked at you, as if he knew exactly what you were doing but didn’t mind a bit.

His fingers flexed around his glass and a sexy smirk appeared on his lips, his eyes shining like the moon in the night. He slightly tilted his head to the side, his index finger brushing along the rim of his glass in a slow, absent-minded motion—like he was thinking about something he probably shouldn’t say out loud. “A little spark huh? And here I thought I was bringing the spark.”

You giggled. Yep, actually giggled. “Oh yeah? So that’s what you’re doing?”

“If you’re asking me then I’m not doing a good job,” he retorted, with a fake sad expression acting like he just wiped a tear, “you’re hurting me so much tonight.”

“Oh, you poor thing, I’d hate to bruise that big ego of yours.” You placed a hand on his bicep and caressed it in mock comfort and, fuck, you had to use every fiber of your body to not squeeze and feel up his muscles.

He tensed under your touch, his breath hitching in his throat feeling of your hand on him.

His lips curved into a slow, lazy smile—the kind that sent a shiver down your spine. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he drew, his voice dropping just a notch lower. “I can take a hit. Besides…” His gaze swept over you again, slower this time—unapologetic. “Something tells me it’s worth it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the smile threatening to break free, but to no avail. He was too good at this—too smooth, too charming, but damn if it wasn’t working.

“Careful Detective Halstead someone might think you’re flirting with me,” you smirked, taking another sip of your champagne.

He shortened the distance between you, subtly and not too noticeably, but you felt his presence, his scent enveloping you fully, more than it had done so far. “Luckily I don’t care about anyone but the person I’m talking to right now,” he replied, “and they’d be right because that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

The air between you grew heavier—not uncomfortable but charged with something unspoken. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the noise of the wedding reception fading into a distant hum. You should’ve looked away, said something to break the tension, but you didn’t want to.

You’ve never felt anything like this, being so damn attracted to a man you were dying to kiss him, to touch him.

“So confident,” you murmured. You tried to keep your eyes on his, but you couldn’t, not when his mouth was not too far from yours. “And here I thought you were just being nice.”

He chuckled, his voice low and deep. ���Trust me sweetheart, there’s nothing nice about what I’m thinking right now.”

You took another sip, hoping to steady the warmth curling low in your stomach. Why were your legs suddenly turning to jelly?

“So…” you started, arching a brow in an attempt to shift the focus back on him, “do you flirt like this with every girl you save, or am I just special?”

Jay’s smile widened and he took a slow sip of his bourbon before answering. “You tell me,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “Do you feel special?”

Damn him.

You laughed softly, shaking your head and taking a deep breath at the same time. “You’re trouble, Halstead.”

He didn’t deny it. “And yet, you’re still talking to me,” he pointed out, eyes gleaming with mischief. “What does that say about you?”

“That I make questionable decisions?”

Jay let out another quiet laugh, but this one felt different—lower, warmer. “Or maybe,” he murmured, leaning in a bit towards you, “you’re exactly where you want to be.”

And the truth? You weren’t sure you could argue with that because he was right, you were where you wanted to be.

You finished the rest of your glass in a single sip because there were two possibilities, this or jump on him and you couldn’t already do that considering you had just met him.

He was throwing you off so much it left you speechless and it wasn’t like you. You didn’t know if you loved it or hated it.

He chuckled as he continued to look at you, as if he had just read your mind.

Your guardian angel, Kim—who you’d thank for the rest of your life from that moment on—appeared at that exact moment, interrupting the game of glances between you and Jay that was becoming too intense for your own good.

“Jay! Y/n? Where’s Caleb?” She asked, visibly excited and smiling.

“I have no idea, courtesy of my fake boyfriend here,” you nodded at Jay who chuckled sexily.

How could laughter be so sexy?

“We need to talk about your questionable taste in men Kim, what kind of rat did you want her to be paired with?” He joked one hand shoved into his pants pocket while the other held his almost empty glass.

“Hey, don’t talk to my wife like that, I’d say she made a good choice in men,” Adam suddenly intervened, wrapping his arm around Kim’s hips and pressing a kiss to her temple. The sight warmed your heart, making you smile like an idiot.

“So, you’ve already introduced yourselves,” Kim continued, alternating her gaze between you and Jay but with a sinister smirk on her lips.

You and Jay exchanged a quick knowing look. “Yeah, he saved me from the mess that was Caleb. And by the way, I’m never listening to you ever again Kim, don’t do that to me again.”

“You two look so good together,” Kim blurted out and giggled, visibly tipsy. “Don’t you think they look hot together honey?”

“Okay that’s enough, let’s get back to dancing,” Adam chimed in again, struggling to contain his laughter, before dragging his wife away.

Before she left though Kim came back to you and whispered, “I was watching you two from afar there’s so much sexual tension between you two that even I got turned on.”

Your cheeks turned on fire but before you could respond Adam finally dragged her away, leaving you alone with Jay again.

He let out a light laugh, and you turned your head towards him. “Do I want to ask you what she said?”

You shook your head, taking another sip of champagne as you still heard her words echoing in your head. “Nope.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyebrow raised. “Kim really does have questionable matching skills, I take it this isn’t the first time with Carl,” he said, changing the subject.

“You have no idea,” you rolled your eyes, “my brain can’t comprehend how she managed to match me with these men and not one of them was normal.”

“Well, have you thought that maybe they weren’t the problem?”

You gasped in fake shock and elbowed him in the side, and he pretended to be in excruciating pain, making you laugh at the show he was putting on. “I could arrest you for assault on a police officer you know that right? You’d look really pretty in a prison uniform.”

“You think I’ll look cute in handcuffs too?”

What the fuck?! Where the hell did that come from?

Jay, who was taking his last sip of bourbon, chocked on it and started coughing after the liquor went down the wrong way and, although you were embarrassed by the stupidity of that statement, the scene was pretty hilarious.

“You good? Should I call a doctor? What happened?” You teased him, trying to hold back your laughter but failing miserably.

“You know damn well what happened,” he retorted with mock annoyance even as the smile on his lips belatedly came. “And pretty wouldn’t even come close to how good you’d look in handcuffs if you really wanted an answer, but that’s something we’ll talk about later.”

You blushed, once again, from head to toe and hated yourself for this reaction and how easily he could see it. “Later? Who says there’s gonna be a ‘later’?”

He smirked down at you, and it was so sexy it made your head spin. “Trust me there will be.”

“You’re so cocky detective.”

Jay leaned in just a fraction, enough that the faint scent of his cologne wrapped around you—something warm and woodsy, with a hint of spice. “Only when I’m sure about something,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less intense.

His words hung in the air, thick and heavy, and you felt heat creep up the back of your neck. You could've played it cool, thrown back a quip, but the way he was looking at you made your pulse skip in a way that was impossible to ignore.

His gaze dropped to your lips again—just for a second—but it was enough to send a fresh wave of heat curling through your body.

“C’mon,” he said suddenly, holding out a hand towards you. “You owe me a dance.”

You lifted a brow. “Do I?”

Jay shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I did save you from Carl. Seems only fair.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile that broke free as you slipped your hand into his. “Alright, Detective,” you quipped, “but only because you asked so nicely.”

His fingers curled around yours—firm, warm, just the right amount of possessive. And as he led you toward the dance floor, you realized something else: you didn’t want to let go.

The music shifted as you reached the edge of the dance floor—something slower, smoother, the kind of song that practically begged for two people to be just a little too close.

Exactly what you wanted.

Jay didn’t hesitate. His hand slid easily to your waist, fingers splayed warm and wide on the small of your back as he pulled you against him, close enough to send all your senses into a tizzy.

It had been hard until now, but this? Being so close to him that you could even count his eyelashes? It was devastating.

You couldn’t even recognize yourself, you’d never found yourself craving a man’s touch so badly, like you needed it to breathe, and in that moment you realized you’d only met the wrong people because, fuck, you were missing out.

“You good with this?” he murmured in your ear, his voice just for you. Low. Intimate. And there was something in the way he asked—like he cared, but also like he already knew your answer.

You nodded, hoping he didn’t feel the way your heart was beating against his chest. Your bodies began to sway in time to the slow music, like you’d done it a million times, like he wasn’t a stranger to you and you a stranger to him.

You didn’t know anything about the man, and he didn’t know anything about you, but you were so drawn to each other it almost drove you crazy.

As you engaged in small talk, you tried not to focus on how close he was—on how his thumb brushed against your back every time he shifted—but it was impossible. Especially when every slight movement seemed to make the space between you shrink.

He asked about you, what do you do for a job or in your free time, how old were you, how long have you known Kim, you asked about him and his life, and it was crazy how, even though you had known each other for literally a short time, you both felt comfortable talking to each other, joking and laughing when you both made terrible jokes.

“You’re really giving me a hard time,” he said, his fingers flexing on your hip.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, realizing how he was already looking at you. There wasn’t any trace of humor left, his eyes were staring at you, but they weren’t focused on yours exactly, they traveled along your face as if he was analyzing you, memorizing every feature and detail.

“Why?” You asked and his eyes flickered on your lips. He continued to caress your hip unconsciously, your bodies pressed against each other and with every slight movement you could feel the heat between you intensifying.

“Because I’m trying so hard to behave and be a gentleman but it’s getting really hard,” he answered softly, his voice raspy, his breath an inch from your lips. “And I hate not being in control.”

You stopped breathing for a second and a shiver ran down your spine. It would’ve been so easy to break that distance, it would’ve only taken a couple of inches and his mouth would’ve been on yours to finally satisfy that visceral attraction that was pulling you towards each other.

And you most likely would’ve let him do it if it hadn’t been for Kim who, with her usual perfect timing, had grabbed your arm, totally drunk and with a beaming smile.

“C’mon Y/n, we have to dance together!” she exclaimed loudly, jumping up and down with an enthusiasm you had never seen in her as she continued to pull on your arm without even leaving you room to protest.

Jay’s arm was still around your hip, though his grip wasn’t as firm as it had been before, and you hated to admit it, but you already missed that touch.

It seemed mutual because you felt him tense for a moment, his fingers reluctant to release their grip on you, as if he also hated the idea of letting you go. But eventually he did, slowly, the heat of his hand still burning through your dress and against your skin even after you’d pulled away.

“Don’t go too far,” he whispered in your ear, quiet enough to make it seem like a secret between the two of you.

And as Kim dragged you through the crowd to the beat of a more upbeat song, you turned to him and gave him one last look. Jay was still there, standing at the edge of the dance floor, his hands stuffed in his pockets, that intense gaze still fixed on you. He winked at you before you disappeared into the crowd and you almost tripped on your own feet.

Oh my fucking god.

Jay leaned against a wall, his hands still in his pockets, one foot placed in front of the other. In other moments he wouldn’t have waited to take another drink, but that night he wanted to be as sober as possible.

His gaze was fixed on the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor, but not on everyone, his eyes scanned the people only for one person in particular. He cursed those disco strobe lights because, in those dim lights, it was not easy to find you.

But when he finally did, his attention was focused only and solely on you, not on the music, not on the world around him.

You were laughing now, spinning with Kim on the dance floor, some strands of your hair coming out of your hairstyle as you moved to the music. He should’ve backed away. Hell, he’d spent years perfecting that skill, knowing when to pull back, where to avoid getting too close, perceive when there was danger. But with you? It wasn’t that easy.

It hadn’t been from the second he laid eyes on you, when he saw you enter the wedding venue with some of your friends.

He didn’t know what kind of witchcraft you had performed on him but he seemed to not be able to stop looking at you. His gaze tracked the curve of your smile and the movement of your lips as you sang along the song, the flush on your skin from the warmth of the room, and the way your dress hugged your figure just enough to make his thoughts stray somewhere they shouldn’t.

He told himself to get it together—to stop looking at you like a creepy stalker—but it was a losing battle, he seemed hypnotized.

And when you tipped your head back, laughing at something Kim said, Jay swore under his breath.

He was in trouble.

Because the truth was, it wasn’t just the way you looked—although you were one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen—it was the way you felt. Warm and soft against him when you danced, your hand fitting so easily in his. The way you leaned into his touch, like part of you wanted him closer, even when you were pretending otherwise.

It almost scared him how he found himself talking, laughing and joking so easily with a stranger he had just met.

But he wanted more of that. More of you.

And that realization hit him harder than it should’ve.

Jay exhaled slowly, willing the tension in his chest to ease. It didn’t work. Not when you turned your head as you kept dancing, scanning the room as if you were searching for something, or someone.

And when your eyes locked, his heart gave a sharp kick, one he didn’t truly expect. And the way you held his gaze? It did something to him.

Your lips curled into the faintest smile—small, almost shy—and damn if it didn’t make something twist low in his stomach. He should’ve been the one in control here, but with just one look, you had him pinned. And the worst part was that he didn’t mind.

Not even a little.

Your attention was caught again by one of your friends who pulled you towards her as you belted out the song in the background, breaking eye contact.

He tried to look away from you sometimes, focusing his attention on something else but it was as if his eyes were attracted to a magnet, you.

And maybe that was the problem.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this, wasn’t supposed to want someone he’d just met with this kind of heat and desire curling through his veins. But here he was, eyes on you, mind already running a dangerous path of wondering how you’d taste if he let himself get too close.

He was about to move—to do something, anything—but then Kim grabbed your hand again, spinning you around in a dizzy circle. Your laughter rang out, bright and carefree, while Jay just stood there against that wall.

He didn’t belong in this moment. Not really. A guy like him—weighted down by too much baggage, too many mistakes, a very dangerous job—had no business wanting you like this.

But God help him, he did.

When the song shifted to something louder and faster, you finally pulled back from Kim, breathless and glowing in a way that had no right to make his pulse pick up. Kim was already dragging Adam away, leaving you alone again, and for half a second, Jay thought this was his shot.

But then, just as quickly, you disappeared into the crowd.

And that shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. More than it had any right to.

Jay exhaled, dragging a hand through his face. He told himself to play it cool, to just let it go, but the thing was, he didn’t want to let it go. Let you go.

And if he had anything to say about it, this night wasn’t ending until he found you again.

Jay pushed himself off the wall, his pulse thudding a little harder than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t the type to chase after someone, not like this. But that night, he couldn’t seem to help himself. His eyes scanned the room, but the crowd was thicker now, people swaying to the music, bodies pressed too close.

You weren’t on the dance floor anymore. He knew that much. And the longer it took to find you, the harder it became to shake the restless feeling gnawing at the edges of his control.

Get a grip, Halstead.

He could’ve leave you alone. Should’ve, probably. But as he moved through the party he knew nothing would sit right until he saw you again.

And then, just when he started to think he’d lost you for good, he caught a sight of you through the open door leading to the balcony.

Jay hesitated, his hand curling into a fist at his side. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, all he knew was that the moment he saw you again, his mind quieted. And maybe that was reason enough.

Without giving himself time to second-guess, he stepped outside.

You were leaning against the railing, your back to him, the cool night air brushing against your bare shoulders. He let himself take in the sight of you for just a second longer—how the city lights reflected off your skin, how you tilted your head back like you were finally catching your breath.

You were breathtaking. So fucking beautiful it hurt.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d get another chance to steal you away.”

You turned your head at the sound of his voice, and there it was again, that little smile. “Something tells me you love a good challenge Detective.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, nodding. “I feel like the reward will be worthy.”

He moved closer to you as he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders, leaving his hands there for a while as he let your scent engulf him. You then turned fully to face him and Jay didn’t miss the way your eyes roamed along his body, focusing for a moment on his chest, his arms, before looking back into his eyes.

“Oh so you really like me,” you joked, eyes still on him, slightly tilting your head but he couldn’t ignore the blush on your cheeks.

“Thought I made that pretty clear by now.”

And just like that, the tension stretched tight again, thicker this time but with the difference that nothing and no one would interrupt this time.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant thump of music spilled through the open door, but out here? It felt like the rest of the world had faded away.

He closed the distance between you, never taking his eyes off yours. He tried to pull away, but it was as if he physically couldn’t, as if he needed it.

“And here I thought you’d even left the party.”

“You’re hurting me so much tonight, I’m not that bad at hitting on you c’mon.”

You giggled and bit your bottom lip. He found himself suppressing a groan because, damn, he had never wanted anything so badly as he wanted to bite your lip.

“Well,” you batted your lashes, “you’re definitely making it hard for me to leave now,” your eyes flicked to his lips before returning to his and he told himself to calm down but, God help him, if you did that again he’d lose every ounce of control he had left.

“I guess you found a good reason to stay then,” his tongue flicked across his bottom lip and he couldn’t miss the way your gaze landed on his lips, again. The light was dim, not very bright, but he could see so clearly how dilated your pupils were and it drove him crazy, knowing you felt the same.

“Is that so?” You murmured. He leaned closer to you and placed his hands on the railing at either side of you, trapping you in his arms but not touching you. Your breathing quickened at the closeness, your lips parted slightly as if you needed air, and that was enough to make his pulse quicken and the heat in his blood spike.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” he taunted

You let out a quiet laugh, warm and soft, and something about the sound made his fingers itch to touch you again, so much so that he tightened his fingers around the cold metal of the railing.

You took his tie—which had been dangling between you—into your hands, and Jay seriously thought he was going to collapse at your feet at any moment. You hadn’t done anything too dramatic, but he felt like he was going to have an aneurysm. Just seeing your fingers caress the fabric of your tie, how you played with it while you continued to look at him, drove him crazy.

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” you repeated under your breath the words he had said a few hours earlier. His hands were gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles were completely white from trying to vent the frustration he felt.

His fingers inched closer and closer to you, until the sides of his thumbs were brushing against your dress. God, how much he wanted to grab you, hold you and touch you, every inch of your body until the ground disappeared beneath you.

You didn’t pull away, if anything, you shifted closer, your warmth seeping into his skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked when he remained silent, staring at you while you continued to play with his tie.

“I think,” he murmured, his thumb sweeping slow circles against your pelvis’ side, “you’re gonna be a problem for me.”

The tension cracked, sharp and electric, and neither of you moved, like you were both waiting to see who’d break first.

“Maybe I want to be,” you admitted quietly.

That was all he needed.

Jay didn’t overthink it, he just moved, closing the last bit of space between you. His hand slid to your waist and made you stand upright, as he tilted his head down, giving you plenty of time to pull back.

But you didn’t.

You stayed right there, your breath warm against his skin as your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

“You’re making this impossible,” he said, his voice rougher now, low enough that only you could hear. His fingers flexed against your waist, dragging you closer without meaning to. Or maybe he did. He wasn’t sure anymore. “I’m trying so hard to be good, but—fuck.”

“But what?” you interrupted, your tone softer, breathier than before. His eyes snapped to yours, and the challenge in your gaze nearly broke him. “What happens if you stop trying?”

His breath hitched. Jesus Christ.

Jay let out a low, bitter laugh, because you weren’t making this any easier. And the worst part? You knew it. You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” he asked, as his fingers trailed up, just slightly, brushing the curve of your ribs. It wasn’t a question. Not really.

Your lips parted, and for a second—just a second—he thought maybe you’d call his bluff. But instead, you tilted your head, eyes fixed on his mouth like you were imagining the same damn thing he was.

“I really, really do,” you murmured. And that was it. That was the crack in the dam.

His other hand came up before he could stop himself, fingers grazing along your jaw, tilting your face toward his as his nose brushed against yours. “You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he admitted, no more games, no more teasing. Just raw, unfiltered truth. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “I don’t even know you but you’re driving me crazy. You have to stop me.”

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Instead, your lips curled into the faintest smile, bold, knowing, and it only fueled the fire already burning through his veins.

“The thing is, I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, leaning in just enough for your breath to brush against his lips, “I don’t want you to be good or patient.”

The words punched through his last shred of restraint like they were designed to. And for a beat, all he could do was look at you—at the flush on your skin, the way your chest rose and fell a little too fast.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he warned, though it came out rougher than he intended, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, slower than necessary.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” you shot back, quiet but sure—so sure—and, fuck, he was done for.

He wanted to win that little silent race, to see you snap but the truth was that he had lost from the start, he had no chance of winning.

So, when he finally kissed you, it wasn’t an attempt.

It was slow, deliberate, like he wanted to memorize the way you tasted, in case it was the last time. The faintest hint of champagne lingered on your lips, but beneath it was something that made his heart slam harder against his ribs.

You kissed him back like you wanted this just as much as he did, your hands sliding up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deeper, making his jacket fall on the floor.

And Jay? He let himself fall into it. Into you.

Jay’s lips moved against yours, slow and thorough, but nothing about the way he touched you felt careful. His hands slid along your waist, fingers pressing into the curve of your hip, squeezing you like he was memorizing the shape of you. Every brush of his skin against yours sent sparks racing through your body, and the heat pooling low in your stomach only grew stronger with each passing second.

His palms flattened against your lower back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between your bodies, until you could feel how much he really wanted you. He was warm, solid—everywhere—and the way he held you made your breath hitch.

You tugged lightly on the back of his neck. The muscles beneath your fingers were tense, and a shudder ran through him as your nails scraped gently against his skin. His breath hitched in response, and something about knowing you could unravel him like this made the heat in your blood burn hotter.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered against your mouth, his voice rough and frayed at the edges. His lips brushed over yours again, lingering like he was savoring the taste of you. But his hands, God, his hands, were anything but patient.

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up your spine, skimming beneath the hem of your dress as he went. The warmth of his touch against your bare skin felt a sharp, delicious shiver curling through you, and when his hand settled at the small of your back again, his grip tightened, so possessive like he wanted to keep you exactly where you were.

And you wanted to stay there.

You wanted more.

Your body arched instinctively into his, and Jay swore softly under his breath, his hold on you turning rougher, like he was losing the battle to keep himself in check. His fingers flexed at your hip, sliding lower, almost touching your ass before skimming back up, as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you most.

And when your hand drifted from his neck to the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric, you felt the sharp rise and fall of his chest beneath your palm. His heart was racing and the realization felt another jolt of heat spiraling through you.

“Jay,” you breathed against his mouth, in such an intense and desperate tone, as if you needed him and his distance hurt you, and his response was immediate. His lips crashed back onto yours with a hunger that stole your breath, and the slow, careful rhythm shattered beneath the weight of all that tension.

He kissed you harder now, deeper. His tongue swept along your lower lip, and when you opened up for him, he groaned softly, a low, desperate sound that made your knees go weak.

His hand slid higher, dragging up your side, fingers brushing the sensitive skin beneath your ribs. He didn’t stop there. He traced the outline of your body desperately, knuckles grazing the side of your breast before his palm flattened against your ribcage, holding you firmly against him.

“Is this okay?” He whispered against your lips.

“Yes, god, yes please Jay,” you whispered back and damn, if your breathy voice hadn’t completely destroyed him. He loved seeing you as desperate for him as he was for you.

He kissed you again. “You’re driving me insane,” he murmured against your lips, and there was no teasing left in his voice. Just raw need. “I can’t—If you want me to stop say it because I fucking can’t.”

The response to those words of his was the way you grabbed his face and crashed your lips onto his again. “I don't want you to stop.”

Whatever fragile restraint he’d been clinging to snapped completely.

Jay’s hands tightened on your waist as he backed you against the wall, pressing you there like he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

His lips left yours just long enough to trail down your jaw, his breath warm as it ghosted over your skin. He didn’t stop when he reached your neck. Instead, he tilted your head gently to the side, giving himself more access as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat and making you sigh in pleasure.

And when his teeth graced that sensitive spot just below your ear, you couldn’t hold back the soft sound that escaped your lips.

Jay froze at the sound—just for a second to control himself before he’d come in his pants. He groaned low in his throat, his mouth returning to yours in a kiss that was rougher now, messier, hungrier. Like hearing you fall apart pushed him over the edge.

One arm was around your waist as he held you so tightly it was almost impossible to move, while the other hand slid down, fingers spreading wide across your thigh. His thumb brushed slow circles against the sensitive skin there, inching higher with every pass. “Tell me to stop, and I will, okay?” he repeated.

But the way he touched you, the way his mouth lingered on yours, made it painfully clear he didn’t want to stop.

And neither did you.

“If you stop now, I might actually lose my mind.”

He chuckled before kissing you again as you pulled him closer, tilting your head to deepen the kiss even further. Your hands cupped his face, his beard tickling your palms as he took your breath away completely.

He slid his hand up your thigh again, taking advantage of the slit of your dress to touch your skin, to squeeze it, to feel it, to press his fingers so deeply into it until they left their mark. He grabbed your leg and wrapped it around his waist, making his pelvis grind with yours and making you both moan into the kiss.

His lips trailed back down to your neck, licking and sucking every inch of skin he had access to. “I want you so fucking bad.” His breath was hot against your skin, and when he spoke again, his voice was nothing but a rough, desperate whisper.

“Oh my fucking god Jay,” you gasped, trying to keep your voice low as his hand slid on your ass, squeezing it until you almost moaned again. “I want you so much too… Please…”

His lips found yours again, a desperate, greedy kiss that only deepened the ache between you two. There was no hesitation, no slowing down. Every touch, every movement, felt like a need that couldn’t be contained. You could feel the heat rising between you, consuming both of you in a way that made everything else fade.

His hard dick pressed into you, and the pressure made your breath hitch, another moan escaping as you started to grind into him again. His mouth left yours only long enough to whisper your name, low, rough, like a command.

“God, I need to feel you,” he muttered against your skin, like he was about to break. His teeth grazed your ear before his lips closed around the sensitive spot just below it, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped again. It only turned him on even more, his hands moving and exploring every inch of you, as though he couldn’t get enough.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, his back, his chest, pulling him even closer, matching the urgency of his movements. You wanted to rip that shirt off of him, you wanted to feel his skin under your fingers, touch him everywhere.

His lips trailed down to the curve of your shoulder, sucking gently as the strap of your dress slid down. The sensation made you pulse race beyond imagination, and you found yourself tugging at his shirt, eager to feel more of him.

“Jay,” you breathed again, voice trembling, and you pulled his face back to yours, crashing your lips together with the kind of hunger that mirrored his own. The kiss was messy, full of heat and need, and you lost yourself in it. You bit his lower lip, sucking it and making him groan. And, fucking hell, the sound was so sexy you felt it directly in your lower regions.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Y/n,” he muttered desperately. His fingers brushing over the lace of your underwear before slipping inside, feeling how wet you were. The contact was electric, and the sharp Moab you let out made his almost like in his pants. “Is this okay?” he murmured against your lips.

“Yes, shit… Oh… Oh god Jay you feel so good please don’t stop,” you moaned, your body moving on instinct, a desperate need for more, and the words only seemed to unravel him further.

There was no turning back now, and for once in your life, it felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

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[lov3yv4mps]

CAN YOU WRITE A CUTE FUNNY FIC OF LEEKNOW AND READER TRYING TO HAVE SEXY TIME BUT SOONIE, DOONGIE, AND DORI WONT LEAVE YOU GUYS ALONE?

IT SOUNDS SO CUTE AND I ABSOLUTELY NEED IT <33

₊˚⑅⋆ pests ⋆⑅˚₊

Genre: smut/fluff MDNI !!

Warnings: kissing, some dirty talk, cursing, hellacious teasing and laughing, almost fingering, cats obvi :3

v4mps note: this was so cute and fun to write AGHH, but I feel like the on and off smut made it even better :D

It was supposed to be simple: Lee Know, you, a quiet evening together. The kind where you could finally enjoy each other’s company without any interruptions. The plan was set. No distractions. But of course, nothing ever went according to plan when it came to his cats.

You were lying in his bed, pulling him close for a heated kiss, your hands already slipping under his shirt, feeling his muscles flex beneath your fingertips. “Let’s make this quick," Lee Know murmured, his voice already laced with lust as he pressed you back into the sheets. "I want you so bad, baby."

Before you could answer, a soft, persistent meow echoed from the corner of the room.

You froze. Lee Know’s face twisted with annoyance. “Soonie, I swear to god…”

His cat had made her entrance, hopping onto the bed with a little yowl as she made herself comfortable, curling up right between you both. Lee Know let out a frustrated laugh, his hand running over his face in disbelief.

“Really? Now? Of all times?” he muttered, giving you an apologetic look. “She’s been out all day, and now she decides to invade our private time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching down to gently pet the cat’s head, who was completely unfazed by the chaos she had just caused.

“Guess we’re not alone,” you teased, trying to ignore the way your body was still aching for him.

Lee Know sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna get her out of here… give me a second.” He leaned down to gently lift the cat, but before he could, a second meow sounded from the other side of the room.

Doongie, his adorable yet extremely clingy cat, was now on the prowl, circling the bed and looking up at you both with big, pleading eyes.

Lee Know groaned, throwing himself back into the pillows. “Fuck… why is it always now?” His hands gripped the sheets, trying to keep his composure as Doongie hopped onto the bed, nuzzling into your lap with loud purrs.

You couldn’t help but laugh, scratching Doongie behind the ears. “He’s so needy,” you teased, but your laugh caught in your throat as Lee Know’s lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“I don’t give a shit about needy cats right now,” he growled, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease the skin of your sides. He was clearly trying to keep his patience, but his breath was already ragged from the teasing.

Just as you were about to respond, a third meow cut through the air. Dori, the smallest and most mischievous of the bunch, darted into the room like a little ball of energy. She pounced onto the bed and immediately positioned herself right between your legs, staring up at you both with wide, innocent eyes.

Lee Know threw his head back, groaning in frustration. “What the fuck, Dori? Seriously?” He looked over at you, his gaze darkening with mischief and desire. “This is your fault, you know that?”

You couldn’t contain your laughter, the situation too absurd. “My fault? You’re the one who adopted all of them!”

The tiny cat didn’t budge an inch, just staring up at you, completely oblivious to the tension between you and Lee Know.

“Okay, enough of this,” Lee Know said, his voice dripping with frustration. His hand found your wrist, pulling it up to his lips for a heated kiss that made your whole body tense with anticipation. “Fuck, you’re killing me, baby…” he muttered, teeth grazing your bottom lip.

You gasped into his mouth as his hand slid down, fingers brushing over your waistband. “Lee Know, are you seriously gonna—”

But just as his fingers slipped under your waistband, the cats simultaneously leaped onto the bed and started running in circles, their tails swishing all over the place.

Lee Know stared at them in horror as his hand froze, fingers still pressing against your skin. “Are you fucking kidding me? This is a nightmare.” He let out an exasperated laugh, his frustration mixing with amusement. “We can’t even have a second to ourselves.”

You pulled him back in for a kiss, ignoring the chaos around you. “Does it really matter?” you whispered against his lips. “I’m still here, and I’m still ready for you.”

The teasing tone in your voice made Lee Know groan, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled, kissing you harder, his fingers slipping lower. He traced the waistband of your pants, eyes darkening with desire. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You moaned into the kiss, your hands grabbing his shoulders as he pressed down, grinding against you as his fingers finally slipped into your panties, teasing your entrance. The sensation made you gasp, but the moment was cut short by a loud meow. The cat jumped up right on Lee Know’s back, pawing at him desperately for attention.

“Oh my god!” Lee Know shouted, nearly choking on his own frustration as he tried to shake the cat off his back. “Seriously, what the fuck!?”

You were laughing uncontrollably now, feeling the tension break in a burst of light-hearted chaos. “I guess it’s not happening tonight,” you said between giggles.

But Lee Know wasn’t ready to give up that easily. He shot you a devilish grin, fingers still teasing at your core. “Oh, it’s happening, sweetheart. Cats or not, I’m finishing this.”

And despite the cats swarming all over you, he did.

[callikari]

0FF THE REC0RD — yang jungwon

4. nah this is insane

yn spotted jungwon the moment she stepped into the student center. he was already seated, arms crossed, watching the entrance like he’d been expecting her. with an annoyed sigh, she made her way over and dropped into the chair across from him.

“okay, what is this?” she asked, crossing her arms.

instead of answering, jungwon slid his phone across the table. “you tell me.”

she glanced down and felt her stomach drop. screenshots. texts, tweets, and off the record’s posts—side by side, their wording eerily similar. it wasn’t concrete proof, but it was close enough to be a problem.

yn forced herself to keep a neutral expression. “…this is dumb.”

jungwon leaned back in his chair, eyebrow raised. “is it?”

she didn’t respond. he tilted his head, eyes scanning her face. “you’re smart. so you already know i could take this to student affairs.”

yn rolled her eyes. “you’re not going to.”

“maybe. maybe not.” he tapped his fingers against the table. “but that depends on you.”

she exhaled sharply. “what do you want?”

jungwon didn’t hesitate. “you’re going to be my girlfriend.”

yn stared at him like he’d just spoken another language. “…what.”

“fake, obviously.” he said it like it was the most normal thing in the world. “you pretend to date me, and i keep your little secret.”

she kept staring. “that’s actually the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard.”

“maybe.” jungwon rested his chin on his hand, studying her. “but you don’t really have a choice, do you?”

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AUTHORS NOTE — i have sm homework help

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© callikari -- all rights reserved

[honeyryewhiskey]

Eight years ago, you walked away from Montana—away from the sprawling ranchlands, the smell of fresh-cut hay, and the boy who swore he'd love you ‘til the day they put him in the ground. You built a new life, one far from dusty backroads and rodeo lights, far from the memories that still linger like the scent of rain on dry earth.

But now, you’re back. Not to stay, not to rekindle anything long lost—just to settle unfinished business. One last trip home to sign the divorce papers, to finally close the door on a past that’s been waiting for you to turn the key.

Beau Arlen was never the type to beg, but he's wrangled enough steers to know how to chase what didn’t want to be caught. He’s not making this easy. Because he’s still the same stubborn, maddening, sweet-talking cowboy who stole your heart all those years ago. And the way he looks at you now—like nothing’s changed, like he still sees the fire in you even when you swear it burned out long ago—makes you wonder if leaving was ever really the right choice.

You came back to let go. But some things, some loves, don’t die easy. And Beau—he was never one to give up without a fight.

warnings — second chance romance trope, i never stopped loving you vs the self-sabotage lover, reader is all fire and spark, beau basks in that warmth with a smile on his face lyrics — tattoos by tyler childers 10k words

Cousin Cheyenne’s house is louder than you remember—fuller, busier, like it’s been bursting at the seams ever since you left. The wooden floors tremble under the thunder of little feet, shrieks piercing the air one after another.

Still blinking sleep from your eyes, you shuffle down the hall just as Carson barrels past, his younger siblings, the twins are hot on his heels, their laughter mingling with the distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen.

Tillie, struggling to keep up with her brothers, wobbles around the corner, her too-big nightgown dragging at her ankles. She beams up at you with a gap-toothed grin, pigtails bouncing. “Mornin’, Auntie!”

Before you can respond, Cheyenne’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Y’all take it outside before you break somethin’!”

A second later, she appears, the baby of the bunch balanced effortlessly on her hip, her chubby fist clutching a half-eaten pancake. There’s flour smeared across her cheek, batter splattered on her shirt, but the amused glint in her eyes says she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The twins groan but obey, scrambling toward the back door—nearly knocking over Arleigh, who’s leaning against the fridge, scrolling through her phone. She lets out a long-suffering sigh, rolling her eyes so hard she might sprain something.

Tillie latches onto your pajama pants, looking up at you with big, hopeful eyes. “Auntie, tell ‘em to quit runnin’ from me!”

You sigh, prying her tiny fingers from your leg and nudging her toward the back porch, where the dogs have joined the morning mayhem. “Not my battle, tuts.”

Cheyenne smirks as she wipes her hands on a dishtowel. She’s still watching you—that look that says she’s got a million and one questions—but, for now, she keeps them to herself.

“You’re up early,” she remarks.

You gesture vaguely at the chaos around you. The house had been clean when you arrived late last night, when all the littles were tucked in and only the low hum of the TV filled the quiet. Now, toys litter the floor like battlefield debris, muddy boots and paw prints track through every room, and even with the kids outside, their shouts still seep through the walls.

“Hard to sleep through the circus,” you mutter.

Cheyenne snorts and slides a mug of coffee across the kitchen island toward you. “Welcome home.”

The words land heavier than they should. You drop your gaze, fingers tightening around the warm ceramic, staring into the dark swirl of coffee as if it holds an answer you’re not ready to face. Home. You’re still figuring out what that means.

Clearing your throat, you watch Cheyenne putter around the kitchen while you take a slow sip, letting the caffeine work its way through your system.

“Beau still working at his daddy’s ranch?”

Cheyenne freezes, her back to you, fingers tightening around the dish towel in her hands. She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she turns to her oldest, passing baby Ginny into the girl’s waiting arms. “Arleigh, sweetheart, can you get her cleaned up for me?”

Arleigh hesitates, her big brown eyes flicking between you and her mother, catching on to the shift in energy at the mere mention of his name. She may not understand the full weight of it, but she knows enough to tread lightly. “Sure, Mama.”

You watch as she carries Ginny down the hall, the soft sound of her murmuring to the baby disappearing behind a closed door.

Only then does Cheyenne turn to you, arms folding tight across her chest. Her expression is unreadable, but there’s a sharpness in her gaze, one that warns you she isn’t about to entertain any bullshit. “Beau’s not at the ranch,” she says evenly. “He’s the new sheriff. Took over from Old Man Ray last year.”

You blink. Beau Arlen—your Beau— all cleaned up and sharp, walking around with a shiny gold badge. You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Is that so?”

Cheyenne hums, unimpressed. “Mhm.” She tilts her head, studying you like she’s trying to pick apart your intentions before you can even say them. “Please tell me you aren’t planning to walk in there and slap those papers down the second you see him.”

Your fingers tighten around your coffee mug, the warmth seeping into your palms, grounding you against the weight of her disapproval. “Chey, I came here for one reason,” you say, your voice firm but not unkind. “I’d like to just get it over with.”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head as she turns back to the counter. “That man hasn’t seen you in eight years, and you’re just gonna waltz into his office and crush his heart all over again?” She doesn’t look at you as she speaks, pouring all that frustration into scrubbing an invisible stain from the worn wooden surface.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh, please. I’m sure Beau’s just as eager as I am to get rid of this damn thing.”

Cheyenne’s hand stills. Slowly, she turns, pinning you with a look that cuts deeper than you’d like to admit. “Damn thing,” she echoes, voice softer now, but no less pointed. “I think you’re forgetting who we’re talking about here.”

Something uneasy flickers through you, but you push past it, draining the last of your coffee and setting the mug down with a quiet clink. “The office still in the same place?”

Cheyenne watches you for a long moment before sighing, tossing the rag into the sink with a wet slap. “Sure is.”

The sheriff’s office looks just about the same as it always has—plain walls, scuffed floors, the faint scent of burnt coffee lingering in the air. The only difference now is the girl sitting at the front desk, chewing her gum loud enough to hear from across the room. She looks young, early twenties maybe, with a messy ponytail and nails painted a bright, chipped pink.

She doesn’t acknowledge you right away, too busy clicking away at her keyboard with a pointedly bored expression. You clear your throat and step forward, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Hi, I was hoping to see Beau Arlen.”

The girl doesn’t so much as glance up. She just hums, shaking her head. “Sheriff’s mighty busy,” she says, dragging out the words like she’s said them a hundred times today. “I can redirect you to one of the officers if it’s urgent.”

You exhale through your nose, already feeling the dull throb of frustration settle in. “I’d really prefer to speak with him directly.”

Another absent shake of the head. “Sorry, ma’am, but the sheriff don’t see just anyone without an appointment.” She pops her gum, eyes still fixed on her screen. “If you’d like, I can set you up for later this week.”

Later this week. Yeah, no.

You press your lips together, glancing toward the frosted glass door at the far end of the room. You can just barely make out the shape of a desk, the outline of a man moving behind it. Your stomach tightens, an old, worn-out kind of ache settling in your chest. You’d expected this part to be easier—just walking in, handing over the papers, and walking right back out. No dramatics. No feelings. No Beau looking at you like you’d stolen the breath right out of his lungs.

But standing here now, waiting for some disinterested secretary to dismiss you for a third time, you realize nothing about this was ever going to be easy.

You take a slow breath, adjusting your stance. “Why don’t you go tell the sheriff…” you hesitate, but only for a fraction of a second before forcing the words out. “That his wife is here to see him.”

That does it.

The girl stills, fingers frozen over her keyboard. Her jaw pops once as she chews, processing, and then, finally, she turns her head to look at you. Her gaze sweeps over you with open curiosity. It’s no secret that Beau married young, less of a secret that his pretty little wife skipped town eight years ago. You see the rumor mill ticking behind her eyes, and you’re sure the whole damn town will know that you’ve come back the second she gets a chance to open her phone. 

You don’t flinch. Rather, you’re trying not to roll your eyes at her blatant stare. 

With a lingering glance, she slowly rises from her chair, heels clicking against the linoleum as she scurries over to the closed door, Sheriff printed across the front in large black letters. There’s a pause, you catch movement through the cracked door. 

You exhale slowly, steadying yourself as you straighten your back, shoulders pulling tight with the effort to appear unaffected. Folding your arms across your chest, you press your fingers into your skin, as if the pressure might anchor you, might keep the past from creeping in any further. But it’s useless—the way your pulse stutters betrays you, a telltale flutter deep in your chest, quick and uneven. 

The door swings open, and the girl steps out quickly, barely concealing the spark of interest in her eyes. She doesn’t even pretend to go back to her work, instead leaning back in her chair, eyes bouncing between you and the office like she’s settling in for a front-row seat to a long-lost lovers' showdown.

You hear his boots before you see him, easy slow strides as he comes into view.

Beau leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, the buckle of his belt catching the dim office light. He’s changed, but not in a way that feels unfamiliar. His hair is a little shorter than you remember, a few more lines around his eyes, a scruff along his jaw that wasn’t there before. The years have settled into him well, the boyish charm aged into something deeper, something steadier.

He whistles low, shaking his head just slightly, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. His gaze doesn’t stray from you, pinning you in place.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he drawls with that devil-may-care smile.

That voice—it yanks you straight back in time. . .

Back to a sticky summer night at the county fair, when you were fourteen and ran headfirst into a boy who stole the breath right out of your lungs. 

The fairgrounds had been alive with energy, buzzing with laughter and the squeals of kids clutching cotton candy bigger than their heads. The bright lights of the Ferris wheel spun lazily against the deep violet sky, the scent of funnel cakes and kettle corn thick in the warm air. Somewhere in the distance, a band played, the twang of a banjo and the wail of a harmonica weaving through the night.

You hadn’t been paying attention, too caught up chasing after Cheyenne who was sprinting toward the ticket booth, laughter spilling between you. One second, you were hurrying after her, and the next—

Oof.

You smacked into something—someone—solid, knocking yourself back a step. Hands caught you before you could stumble in the dirt, steadying you with an easy strength.

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

Your stomach flipped at the slow southern drawl, a voice you recognized before you even looked up.

Beau was the new upperclassman from Texas, the one everyone had been whispering about ever since his Daddy’s pick up truck rolled into your small town. The Arlen’s, who bought up a few hundred acres to fill with cattle. Beau—their pride and joy—with the pretty green eyes, the lazy, lopsided grin, the kind of voice that dripped honey and heat.

You’d only ever seen him from afar before—leaning against the hood of his truck in the school parking lot, at a bonfire party with one of the pretty senior girls clinging to his arm. Always surrounded by people, always grinning like he had the world in his back pocket.

You blinked up at him, heart hammering, and for the first time in your little life, you didn’t know what to say.

He grinned like he could read you clear as day. Watching through his lashes as your cheeks turned pink. “Didn’t mean to knock the wind outta ya,” he teased, his hands still loose around your arms. “Though I gotta say, I’ve never had a girl throw herself at me quite like that before.”

Your face burned, and just like that, your words came rushing back. “I did not throw myself at you,” you shot back, the heels of your boots digging into the ground as you stepped back some. 

Beau arched a brow, like he wasn’t entirely convinced. “That so?”

You huffed, straightening your posture, trying to shake off the way your pulse was still racing. “You were just… in the way.”

His grin doesn’t waver as he watches you, that knowing glint in his eye like he’s already got you figured out. He pulls off his brick cattleman hat, pressing it to his chest with an easy charm, the other hand stretching out toward you in introduction.

"Beau Arlen," he says smoothly, voice as rich and warm as the summer air around you. "And you are?"

You let out a soft scoff, tilting your head as you cross your arms over your chest. "Yeah, I know who you are," you shake your head like the idea of introducing himself is ridiculous. "Everyone in the damn county knows who you are."

That earns a low chuckle from him, deep and amused, as he sets his hat back on his head, adjusting the brim with an easy nod. "Yeah?" he muses, looking at you with something close to intrigue dancing behind his green eyes. "Well, I’ve heard about you too."

You blink, caught off guard. Your arms drop slightly, curiosity flickering across your face as you search his expression. "Oh yeah?" you ask, cautious but undeniably intrigued.

"Mhm," he hums, rocking back on his heels, taking his time as he lets the words settle between you. "Spitfire of a girl, headstrong as they come. Got a way with words that'll put a grown man in his place." His smirk deepens as he watches your reaction, the weight of his gaze settling on you like he’s waiting to see if the rumors match the real thing. "Sounds about right?"

You narrow your eyes at him, though there’s a pull at the corner of your lips that you try to fight. "Depends on who's been runnin’ their mouths."

He chuckles again, slow and easy, as if he’s enjoying this more than he probably should. "Only folks who know what they’re talkin’ about."

You can’t keep your eyes on his, a match you never thought you’d cross in all of Montana. You glance down at your dress, fidgeting with the hem. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Maybe,” he mused, eyes dancing over you without any damn shame in it. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his dirty jeans, drawing your eyes to his shrugging shoulders. You never had the opportunity to really look at him, up close like this, and you couldn’t help but notice the evident strength in his arms and shoulders. The result of the kinda life where he learned how to rope a dummy calf before he knew his ABCs. 

His smooth chuckle brings your attention back to his lips, “But I think I like it just fine right here.”

That night at the county fair stretched on, the kind of summer night that settled deep in your bones, the kind that felt like it could last forever.

After your collision, Beau should’ve walked away. Should’ve tipped his hat, flashed that lazy grin, and gone about his night. But he didn’t.

Instead, he stuck around.

You felt his eyes on you as you trailed after Cheyenne, her sharp little smirk letting you know she’d clocked everything the second she turned around and found you breathless, face flushed. She didn’t say anything—yet—but you knew that look. Knew she’d be digging into you for details the second you were alone.

The county fair was the biggest event of the year, crawling with people, but somehow—Beau and his rowdy crew kept popping up everywhere you turned.

It started at the rodeo pens, where you and Cheyenne were watching the bull riders, the air thick with excitement and the distant sound of hooves pounding against dirt. Beau leaned against the railing a few feet away, arms crossed over his broad chest, that familiar smirk playing on his lips every time your eyes happened to meet.

Bailey Bassett, standing next to him, elbowed Beau in the ribs and muttered something that made Beau’s laugh rise up low and steady, though the announcer's voice drowned out the words.

Then Hayes Pomeroy, always trying to be helpful but usually just making things worse, turned just enough so you had to hear him over the crowd. “You gonna talk to her, or just stare like a damn fool all night?”

You turned your head just in time to catch the look Beau shot at the snickering brunette. The fire in his gaze could’ve burned through a hundred barns, and you couldn’t help but bite back a smirk at the sight. Hayes might have a death wish, but at least it was entertaining.

Then came the fried Oreos.

You were happily minding your business, trying to act like the grease-drenched dessert wasn’t the best thing you’d ever tasted, when you heard that familiar drawl creep up beside you.

“You mind sharing some of that, miss?”

You didn’t even have to look up. You could feel his presence before he even spoke, settling into the picnic bench beside you like he always had a spot next to you. His arm pressed against yours, warm, solid. The rest of his crew—Bailey, Hayes, and Austin—crowded Cheyenne's side of the bench, as if they had all joined in a game of make-your-best-friend-uncomfortable.

You rolled your eyes but slid the paper tray between you anyway, trying to act like it didn’t matter that your heart had skipped a beat. His fingers brushed yours as he grabbed one, and your pulse did that stuttered thing it always did when he was near. He took a slow bite, deep-fried chocolate and powdered sugar clinging to his lips as he stared at you like he knew exactly what it did to you.

Across the table, Hayes groaned dramatically, leaning back in his seat. “God, I can’t watch this.”

“Then don’t,” Beau drawled without breaking eye contact with you, chewing thoughtfully as if there weren't eyes watching from across the table.

Austin leaned over to Bailey, “This is like watchin’ one of my Nan’s romance movies happen in real-time.”

Bailey snickered, giving his buddy a knowing glance. “She’s fightin’ it, but she’s doomed.”

Cheyenne, sipping her lemonade, grinned like a cat that caught the canary. “Ain’t it great?”

You rolled your eyes and tossed a napkin at her, but the laughter from the table only made her grin wider. The night spun on, the fair alive with neon lights and the chaotic hum of people. But no matter where you went, whether you were trying to escape to the petting zoo or drag Cheyenne over to the concession stand, Beau was there. He wasn’t pushing. Not outright following, but somehow he always seemed to find a way to be near. It wasn’t anything obvious—just a subtle presence that hung around, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

By the time the Ferris wheel loomed overhead, its lights blinking in the dark like stars that had wandered too far from home, Cheyenne turned to you with that saccharine-sweet smile she saved for moments of pure, unadulterated mischief.

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” she cooed, her voice dripping with innocence—way too much innocence.

You barely had time to glare at her before your attention snapped back to the sound of Beau’s boots on the gravel. He’d been leaning against a nearby post like he was just casually waiting for the world to come to him, but now he pushed off and strolled toward you like he had nowhere better to be.

“Well,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning over you with that same easy grin he always wore. “Looks like you need a partner, huh?”

From behind him, the boys—who’d clearly been watching this play out like they were in the front row of a damn rodeo—made their bets.

Hayes was first to pitch in, his voice loud enough for you to hear from a mile away, “Bet you ten bucks she says no.”

Bailey, ever the optimist, shook his head. “Nah, she’s gone. Look at her.”

Cheyenne raised an eyebrow, tossing a look between you and Beau before throwing a dangerous grin at the guys. “I’ll bet all of you twenty that those two get married.”

Austin, ever the realist, just chuckled and shook his head, clearly not willing to make any bets. “Yeah, right, your cousin’s one helluva girl, Chey, but Beau’s got his pick of the litter.”

“And that look in his eye says he’s seeing nothing else but her,” Cheyenne shot back, her voice laced with confidence.

Beau just stood there, that smirk of his not going anywhere as he waited, knowing full well what was going through your head.

You wanted to say no. Wanted to roll your eyes, tell him he was full of himself, tell Cheyenne she was the worst for setting you up like this. Tell the laughing bunch of idiots to mind their own. Because your heart was hammering harder than it ever had—worse than the first time you were bucked off the back of a horse.

But you don't.

You let him lead you to the Ferris wheel, let him help you into the cart even though you didn’t need the help, let yourself feel the warmth of him next to you as the ride carried you higher and higher.

The Ferris wheel rocked gently as it climbed higher, the town stretching out below in a warm sprawl of wide pastures and glowing lights from the fairgrounds. From up here, the world felt small, the hum of carnival rides and laughter muffled by the height. 

You swallowed, gripping the cool metal bar in front of you, trying not to fidget under the weight of his gaze. Beau was leaning back, one arm slung over the seat like he had all the time in the world, his knee knocking into yours every time the cart swayed.

“Didn’t take you for the shy type,” he murmured, voice low, teasing.

You scoffed, keeping your eyes on the blinking lights of the fairground. “I’m not shy.”

His smirk deepened, slow and knowing. “Oh, I know,” he drawled. “Just don’t think you’ve ever had a boy look at you the way I’m lookin’ at you now.”

Your fingers curled against the peeling paint of the safety bar as your stomach flipped—not from the height, not from the way the Ferris wheel jolted slightly as it came to a stop at the very top, but from him. From that voice, thick as molasses, and the way his green eyes traced your face like he was memorizing every little thing about you.

He was two years older, always just a step ahead, but never far enough to be out of reach. 

After that night at the fair that pull between you was magnetic—unspoken but undeniable. Like gravity, like instinct, like something stitched into the fabric of who you were.

It started small. Brushing shoulders in crowded hallways, stolen glances across the stands at a football game, the way he’d always find you at a party, beer in hand, offering it to you with that slow, knowing grin.

Then it grew. Late-night drives down empty roads, the radio humming between easy conversation. Sitting on the tailgate of his truck, passing a bottle back and forth, watching the stars blink awake. Him showing up unannounced, leaning against your porch railing like he belonged there, just to ask, “You busy?”—and the answer was always no, not for him.

At every bonfire party, leaning against his truck with that slow, easy confidence, eyes locked on you as you twirled around with Cheyenne, laughter spilling into the night. Running out of his family’s barn to greet you in the driveway, always opening your car door for you, pulling you into a hug that left the scent of hay and dust clinging to your clothes. At the gas station on slow summer nights, leaving his truck door open as he filled the tank, saying something so damn funny it had you laughing until you snorted—something he never let you live down.

You grew up tangled in each other’s lives, inextricable. Beau was the first boy who ever made your heart stutter, the first set of hands you trusted to catch you when you fell. He was there when you turned sixteen, sneaking you out to the lake, exploring each other’s bodies beneath the moonlight while the cicadas sang. He was there at eighteen, always ready to hold you in his arms whenever the weight of the future pressed heavy on your shoulders.

No matter where life tugged you—through the petty bickering, breaking up one week just to get back together the next—you always found your way back to each other. Because you were Beau and he was you, because from that first night at the fair, something had settled into place.

And neither of you ever really let it go.

And now, even after you’ve spent more time apart than together, he’s standing in front of you again—older, broader, wearing the years like they did him a favor. The sharp angles of youth have settled into a sweet, defined ruggedness. The way he looks at you hasn’t changed—like he still knows you better than you know yourself.

Your fingers curl at your sides as you force yourself to stand still under his gaze, to not fidget under the weight of history pressing between you.

You swallow hard, shaking the heavy thoughts loose before clearing your throat. “Beau.”

His smile stays put, but something flickers behind those green eyes—something softer, something cautious. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he says, voice quieter now, rougher around the edges.

The warmth in his drawl tugs at something in your chest, something you thought you’d buried a long time ago. You exhale sharply, willing yourself to stay focused, to not get swept up in the sound of him.

Movement beside you catches your attention—the secretary, still perched at her desk, now leaning just slightly forward, chin propped in her hand, watching the two of you like she’s already writing the town gossip in her head.

You sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Think we could talk somewhere private?”

Beau doesn’t answer right away. He just watches you, long and steady, like he’s trying to piece together what the hell you’re doing here after all this time. Like he’s debating whether or not he wants to open that door again.

Eventually, he exhales through his nose, something unreadable passing over his face before he gives a slow shake of his head. Then, with a tilt of his chin, he steps back, pushing off the doorframe.

“After you, darlin’.”

And just like that, the past isn’t just a memory anymore. It’s standing right in front of you, waiting to see what you’ll do next.

You step inside, the scent of old paper greeting you as the door clicks shut behind you. The office is simple—wood-paneled walls, a heavy desk, a few dusty plaques hanging crooked. It suits him.

Beau goes over to the desk but doesn’t sit, just leans against the edge, arms loosely crossed as he watches you expectantly. You clear your throat, shifting your weight as you reach into your bag. The rustle of papers fills the quiet, and your pulse pounds as you pull out the documents, gripping them tighter than necessary.

“So,” you start, unfolding them with stiff fingers. “These are, um—” You exhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Divorce papers.”

Beau doesn’t move right away. He just takes them from your hands, his brows pulling together as he flips through the pages. The silence stretches, thick and unyielding, as he skims over the fine print.

Your mouth is already running before you can stop it. “I know it’s been a long time, and I should’ve handled this sooner, but—well, life happened, and I’m moving south soon so I figured it was time, and I thought—” You huff a humorless laugh, rubbing your palm over your forehead. “I just figured I should finally do the right thing and bring these to you in person.”

Beau hums, still looking down at the papers, expression unreadable. Then, just as you’re bracing for him to say something—anything—he glances up and asks, “You been riding much these days?”

You blink. “What?”

“Horses,” he clarifies, flipping a page absently. “You still riding?”

You stare at him, momentarily thrown off balance. Here you are, standing in front of him with legal proof of the one thing still tying you together, and he’s asking about horses?

Your lips part, then close. Then part again before you shake your head, exasperated. “Beau, are you serious?”

His mouth quirks, just the faintest bit, before he shrugs. “It’s a simple question, darlin’.”

You let out a sharp breath, pressing your fingers to your temples. Of course. Of course, this is how he’s handling this.

Some things never change.

You huff out a sharp, “No,” crossing your arms, your irritation bubbling over. 

Beau doesn’t seem fazed. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s holding back a smirk. Without so much as a glance at the papers, he tosses them onto the desk beside him, the pages fanning out in a crumpled heap. Then, he braces his hands on the wood, leaning in just enough to shrink the space between you.

“Remember Indigo?” he asks, voice low and smooth.

Your breath catches.

Of course, you remember Indigo. The dapple-gray mare with the bright blue eyes and a stubborn streak as wide as the county line. She was your first real show horse, the one you begged your parents for when you were twelve, the one you spent years training, the one who knew your moods better than anyone else.

The one you left behind when you left Beau.

Your throat tightens, and you will yourself not to look away. But Beau’s watching you too closely now, his gaze full of something unreadable, something that makes your chest ache.

“Yeah,” you murmur, swallowing hard. “I remember.”

Beau leans back slightly, his hands pressing down on the edge of his desk as his gaze shifts to something distant, something hidden beneath that easy smile of his. "Got a whole lotta of offers for her after you left," he says, the words slipping out with a quiet, almost reluctant tone. His eyes flicker to you briefly, his gaze softening just a fraction. "But none of ‘em were good enough."

Your chest tightens, but you don’t let him see it, just nodding as you let the silence stretch for a moment.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, the sound a little bitter. "Ramsey Wilcox—hell, he was the worst of 'em all. Wouldn't leave me alone for weeks. I caught him at the bar one night—he's leanin’ against the counter, shootin' the shit with me, talkin’ ‘bout work and life, y’know, all that normal bullshit." Beau's lips curl in a playful sneer at the thought, his fingers rubbing at his jaw as he recalls the memory. "Then he pulls out his damn wallet. Thought he was showin' me a picture of his kids or something, but nah—he pulls out this check. Fifty grand, darlin'. Fifty thousand dollars, with Indigo written right there on the ‘for’ line."

You don’t even think about it. You cut in without hesitation. “She’s worth a whole lot more than that.”

Beau laughs, and the sound is easy, genuine—a warmth that you can feel even in the space between you. He nods, agreeing with you. "Hell, don’t I know. I told him that, too." But then his eyes narrow just a touch, and his expression shifts, like he’s thinking back to that moment—back to the guy with the check and the offer that tried to strip away a part of his world.

You raise an eyebrow, still waiting for him to tell you what he did next. “So what’d you do with that pretty penny?” you ask, trying to steel your tone, keep it light despite the anger seeping into your bones.

Beau holds your gaze for a long, drawn-out moment. His brows crease as he studies you, wracking his brain. He looks almost hurt by the words, but it’s gone as he shakes his head slowly.

"Took a sip of my beam," he starts, his voice low and deliberate, "and poured the rest of it right on that damn check. Just ruined it, right then and there."

A chuckle escapes him, but it’s not lighthearted like before—it’s something deeper. Something that only he understands. His eyes are warmer now, softer, as he reminisces, and you find yourself leaning in, waiting for him to continue.

"Little Miss Indigo’s got herself a nice pasture now, better than the paddock we fixed up for her when we first got the house," he says, his smile returning but in a quieter, more nostalgic way. "Course, she shares it with ‘ol Bud."

Your brows furrow as you glance toward the window, trying to process everything in that statement. Indigo—your horse. The one you left behind when you left Beau, the one you thought would be forgotten like so many other things in your past. You never imagined she’d still be there, still cared for as if no time had passed.

Beau looks at you with that same familiar, knowing gaze, as if nothing had changed. The years didn’t seem to have done much to him—he was still Beau, the guy who always had a story to tell, who never seemed to give a damn what anyone thought, who had a quiet way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the room.

And even now, after all this time, all those miles apart—it felt like you were still tethered to him in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

Your lips part, then press together as you blink at him. A quiet sort of disbelief settles in your chest, like you hadn’t expected him to say that.

Beau just watches you, still leaning back against the desk, arms crossed over his broad chest. His smile lingers, but there’s something else there now, something softer—something that twists in your gut.

"You kept her," you say, almost to yourself.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "’Course I kept her. What kinda man do you take me for?"

You look down, your fingers curling at your sides, heat creeping up your neck. You don’t know how to answer that—not when you were the one who left.

Beau doesn’t push. He just tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to read between the lines of everything you’re not saying. 

"You retired Bud?"

His grin deepens, eyes flashing with something smug. "Sure did, old bastard did good on the ranch. He came home with me last year, when I took up this new job."

There’s something dangerously warm settling in your chest. The kind of warmth you don’t know what to do with. Because even after all this time, even after all the miles and mistakes between you—Beau never really let go of the things that mattered.

Beau sighs, the weight of something unspoken hanging in the air as he shifts his weight back to his feet, walking over to the window. His back is turned to you now, but you can still feel his presence in the room—every inch of him is alive with quiet tension. The space between you seems to stretch, but there’s something magnetic pulling you in, as it always had.

He glances over his shoulder at you, his eyes still distant but the corners of his lips pulling into a half-smile, like he knows he’s already got you. “How ‘bout I take you to see the ‘ol girl?” His voice is steady, though it holds that same depth of nostalgia, the same gravity that has always drawn you closer to him.

Your chest tightens, a hesitant laugh escaping your lips as you bite your bottom lip, looking over at the divorce papers sitting on his desk. “Beau, I—”

He turns fully now, his gaze landing back on the papers, but there’s something in his eyes—something that makes you pause. His brow furrows as he watches the way you hesitate. It’s like he’s waiting for you to fight it, for you to push back one last time. But his voice, when it comes again, is softer, coaxing. “Then we can talk about me signin’ those papers of yours.”

The air between you thickens as you absorb his words. He’s still giving you an out, but you know it’s not an out you can take—not anymore. You’ve spent so much time avoiding this moment, but now it’s right here, hanging between you both like a thread that’s just about to snap. And it’s funny, you realize, how every time you came back to him, it never felt like you were going backward. It always felt like you were just finding your way home.

You swallow hard, your fingers curling around the divorce papers, tucking them back into your bag. Your gaze lifts to meet his. His face is unreadable, but in his eyes, you can see it—he’s offering you something far more important than just a tour of the pasture. He’s offering you the chance to fix the one thing that’s always been left broken.

"Okay," you whisper, your voice quieter than you expect, but it carries the weight of everything that’s unsaid between you. You feel the tension in your chest release, the knot loosening, and you take a slow step forward.

Beau’s lips twitch upward, a flicker of something soft passing through his eyes. He nods once, like he’s accepting your unspoken surrender, but he doesn’t make a big deal of it. Instead, he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and swings it over his shoulders with that same easy, practiced movement you’ve always known. “Alright then,” he mutters, his voice a touch lighter now. “Let’s go.”

The drive to Beau’s place is quiet, the hum of the truck's engine lulling you into a strange calm. You watch the passing scenery but it doesn’t seem to register at first—too much noise, too many memories, too many feelings trying to fight their way through. The road seems to stretch endlessly, but it doesn’t feel like the long, winding path you remember from the past. It feels different now. Like the past is catching up to you, inch by inch.

And when you finally see the house again, your breath catches in your throat. It’s like seeing a ghost—something so familiar, but so far out of reach. You’re standing at the edge of something, a threshold you can’t quite cross. You feel out of place here, like there’s no space for you to fit anymore. The house, the land, the memories—all of it seems to hold its breath, waiting for you to step back into it. But you know the truth, the one Beau’s been side stepping for the past hour—you don’t belong here anymore.

Beau doesn’t say a word when he parks the truck, leaving the engine running for just a moment. His presence fills the air around you, and you can almost hear his thoughts as you both sit there in the quiet. It’s like he’s giving you space, allowing you to sort through whatever it is that’s twisting inside you.

Then, the door opens and he steps out, his boots crunching softly against the gravel as he walks to the passenger side. He pauses, standing still for just a beat before your door is creaking open. His eyes, patient and careful, lock onto yours as he leans against the side of the truck, waiting for you to climb out.

You move without bothering to say a word, because at this moment, you don’t need to. It’s like every step you take toward that house is one step closer to finding something you’d forgotten.

The house is still standing, unchanged in some ways, but you can see the subtle signs of age, of time catching up. The porch creaks underfoot as you walk up to it, your feet feeling too light, too heavy all at once. Beau follows behind you, a quiet presence that gives you the room to breathe.

But when you look out toward the pasture, you see her.

Indigo.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight. Her spotted coat glows in the late afternoon sun, the dapples of grey and white shimmering like they always did. She’s grazing lazily in the field, her movements graceful, as if time had never passed. The sight of her steadies you, somehow grounding you in the moment. Your discomfort starts to melt away, like the world slows down for just a second. She’s still here. She’s still yours.

Without thinking, your feet carry you across the front lawn toward the fence. Beau watches you closely, his eyes tracking every movement with the same careful attention he’s always had. As you reach the fence, you place your hand against the rough wood, the memories flooding back with every touch. Indigo’s head lifts, ears flicking in your direction. She trots over, a soft whinny escaping her as she noses into your palm, a familiar warmth that makes your heart ache with the depth of everything you’ve left behind.

Beau is beside you then, standing close enough for your arms to brush, his hand coming to rest gently on Indigo’s neck. He speaks softly to her, words you can’t quite make out, but the affection in his voice is unmistakable. You watch, mesmerized by the tenderness between him and your horse, feeling like an intruder in a life that could have been yours.

Then, as if remembering you’re there, Beau nudges your shoulder, his teasing smile returning. It’s easy, familiar—like nothing’s changed. “C’mon,” he says, the words low and laced with that hint of mischief you’ve always known so well. “Let’s get you saddled up.”

The warm afternoon sun filters through the trees as you and Beau ride through the trails behind his house, the quiet sounds of the horses’ hooves striking the dirt mingling with the chorus of birds overhead. The terrain out here is rugged, the trails winding through dense woods before opening up to rocky outcroppings and wide, sweeping views of the distant mountains. The earth smells rich, like the pine trees and fresh moss, and it’s easy to lose yourself in the rhythm of the ride, in the way the air feels on your face, crisp but gentle.

With that well-worn felt hat atop his head, the brim tilted just enough to shade his eyes, he looks so much like the Beau you knew. The one who lived for long days under the sun, for the smell of fresh-cut hay and the burn of whiskey after dark. He’s settled deep in the saddle, moving with easy confidence, the way he always did. Like he was born to be there. Like the saddle was just another part of him.

And that horse—the sleek Arabian beneath him—you remember the day he got Bud. He was too wild at first, too quick-footed, and for weeks, you watched Beau learn every quirk and stubborn streak he had, determined to turn him into a proper cattle horse. He swore up and down he’d never trust anything but a quarter horse, but damn if he didn’t rise to the challenge anyway. And now, watching him guide Bud through the tall grass with nothing but the shift of his weight and the sure pull of the reins, you can tell he’s as much a part of Beau as that damn hat.

For a moment, it’s like you’ve been thrown back in time. You can almost hear the reckless laughter of your younger selves, the way he used to tip his hat at you like he was some kind of cowboy out of a storybook, always playing at being larger than life. But that boy isn’t just a memory—he’s right here, riding beside you. He’s older, sure, a little more worn by time, the lines at the corners of his eyes a little deeper, but the heart of him—the thing that made him Beau—that’s still there.

Then, breaking the silence between you, Beau speaks up, his voice cutting through the peaceful backdrop.

“So, how’s the vet tech work been?” he asks casually, his gaze still forward as he guides his horse around a sharp bend in the trail.

It catches you off guard, and he can see it in the way your brows furrow when you glance over at him. He chuckles softly, a little nervous, like he’s realizing he might’ve just cracked a door open on something he wasn’t sure he should.

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, his voice a bit flustered now. “Probably should mention that Chey’s been keeping me posted on what you’ve been gettin’ up to over in Washington.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmur, a small sigh slipping out. Of course, Cheyenne has—she can’t help herself when it comes to you and Beau. She’s always been the bridge between the two of you, passing on every little detail. She’s always had a habit of rambling on about something special, something sacred existing between the two of you.

You made her stop talking like that a long time ago, on one of your darker nights, when the mere mention of his name made you angrier than you cared to admit. Still, you can’t help the surprise that Beau even cared enough to listen to those updates.

His eyes flick to you briefly, like he can read the shift in your mood, sensing the storm brewing behind your gaze. “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours too much,” he adds softly. “She never tells me anything too personal. Just the milestones. You know, little tidbits here and there.”

You nod, trying to shake the tension that suddenly tightens in your chest. “Uh, well, it’s been good,” you answer after a beat. “I’ve been busy. Mostly small animal care, but a lot of emergencies. It’s intense, but I love it.”

Beau nods, his expression thoughtful, but there’s something else there too—quiet curiosity, the kind you haven’t seen in years. “Yeah? That’s good. Chey mentioned something about you helping with a few surgeries and—”

You feel the need to steer the conversation in a different direction before it gets too personal. You turn your gaze back to the trail ahead, focusing on the winding path that stretches out before you. “Well, actually, I’m heading to Colorado soon. Been thinking about making a move. Looking for something new. I think I’ll be able to get a job at one of the bigger animal hospitals down there. It feels like the next step.”

Beau nods again, absorbing the news, but before he can say anything, you feel a sudden surge of courage bubbling up in your chest. The question has been sitting there since the moment you saw him again, unanswered and waiting.

“What about you, Beau?” you ask, your voice tentative at first, but firm. “You’re the sheriff now, got this beautiful home and all... have you... found someone?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He keeps his eyes trained ahead, guiding his horse with a steady hand. You can see the corners of his lips twitch, like he’s trying to hold back a smile—or maybe a laugh.

“Nope,” he says finally, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. “No one worth mentioning, I suppose.”

His gaze flicks to you then, and there’s something in his eyes—a look of amusement, but also something deeper. “Girl of my dreams asking me if I’ve met someone? Thought I’d be the one asking you that after all this time, darlin’.”

You feel a little flustered, the old playful Beau returning in full force. He’s got that teasing look on his face, the one that always made you roll your eyes and laugh. You don’t have time to respond, though, because with a swift kick to his horse’s side, he speeds up, the sound of his horse’s hooves increasing in pace.

“Race ya back home, sassy!” he calls over his shoulder, his voice full of mischief, his tone dripping with that familiar nickname. The one he’s always called you.

Sassy.

You can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth, that playful challenge luring you into action. The nickname, meant as a jab at your attitude all those years ago, is like a thread tying you back to something simpler. Something good. . .

You stood near the fence line at his family’s ranch, arms crossed, your boots dug into the dirt like you were planting yourself there just to spite him.

Beau, for his part, looked entirely unbothered, his hands resting casually on his belt, that easy, damn near infuriating smirk playing on his lips. He had a way of looking at you like he knew exactly what you were going to say before you even opened your mouth.

“That damn attitude of yours is somethin’ else, y’know that?” he chuckled, shaking his head like you were amusing him.

Your scowl deepened. “Yeah? Why don’t I just go on home then so you can quit dealing with my damn attitude?”

Beau let out a full laugh at that, shoulders jumping with the force of it. Like you hadn’t just told him off. Like you didn’t mean it. And maybe you didn’t—not really—but you sure as hell wanted him to think you did.

“Hell no,” he drawled, still grinning. “Sassy as all hell, that’s what you are.”

Your pout stayed firm, arms tightening across your chest, but your traitorous heart wasn’t nearly as steady. Not with the way he was looking at you. Not with that warmth in his eyes—like he liked it. Like he wouldn’t have you any other way.

He sighed then, soft and a little exasperated, but there was something else beneath it, something deeper. Before you could react, he stepped closer, tilting his head down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

You barely had time to process it before he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. The scent of him surrounded you, familiar and steady in a way that made your stomach flip.

“My sassy miss,” he murmured against your hair, the words quiet, like they weren’t meant for anyone but you.

And just like that, your resolve wavered, your heartbeat betraying you as it hammered hard against your ribs. You wanted to stay mad. You really, really did. But damn it was hard to hold onto your fire when he could hold you like you were something precious. 

As you and Beau walk through the back door into the house, the familiar scent of wood and leather instantly wraps around you, bringing back memories of long days spent in this place. You can hear the low hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the creak of the wooden floors beneath your boots. It’s all so familiar, yet it feels like you’re stepping into a time that doesn’t quite belong to you anymore.

Beau opens the door with a casual, almost lazy gesture, stepping aside to let you enter first. He follows, continuing the story that seemed too good not to share. “Anyways,” he grins, “I was at this fundraiser over in town—one of those fancy events where everyone’s trying to impress each other. I’m talkin’ big names, expensive suits, and of course, I show up looking like I’ve never even heard of a tailor in my life.”

You snort, imagining Beau in an unflattering suit.

"So I’m talking to this big-shot rancher, trying to keep my cool, right? But I’m just so out of my element. I reach for my drink, and somehow—don’t ask me how—I knock the whole damn thing over. It spills everywhere. I'm not talking a little dribble, I'm talking splashing all over this poor woman’s white dress. The whole room goes silent, and I’m standing there like I’ve just committed a crime."

You’re already laughing, but Beau doesn’t stop there.

"Then, of course, I try to salvage the situation. I offer her my napkin—a paper napkin—like that’s gonna fix it. She looks at me like I’m crazy. And me? Instead of apologizing and walking away like any sane person would, I try to make a joke out of it. 'Guess I was just trying to add some color to the party,' I say."

You shake your head, still laughing. "I bet that went over well."

Beau shrugs with a sheepish grin. "Yeah. Not my best moment. She didn’t even crack a smile. But hey, at least I made an impression. I’m sure she won’t forget me anytime soon."

You can’t help the laugher that spills out, a full, genuine laugh that bubbles up from somewhere deep inside you. It’s loud and unrestrained, and for a moment, you feel lighter. The sound feels like it belongs in this place, like you’ve come home after all these years, even if it’s only for a short while.

Beau watches you, a smile tugging at his lips, and his eyes—those familiar watchful eyes—never leave you. His grin falters for just a second, something deeper, more serious, taking its place. But he doesn’t say anything, instead nudging you gently as he walks past.

Beau looks at you, his expression soft but purposeful. He nods toward the staircase. “Why don’t you get cleaned up?” he says, voice low but steady. “I’ll wait for you down here. We’ve got some talking to do, I know, but I also know how you get when you’ve got hay and dirty clinging to every bit of you.”

You nod, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and strange contentment. “Yeah,” you murmur, “you’re not wrong about that.”

You make your way up the stairs, the familiar creak of the old wood beneath your feet grounding you in this space. As you pass the hallway, your eyes fall on the little pieces of yourself scattered around the house, tucked away in corners where they’ve stayed all this time. The trinkets you left behind, the blankets you’d picked out together, the small knick-knacks that somehow still hold your mark. There’s no pictures of you, no wedding photos displayed, but it’s there in the details, in the softness of the place that’s held on to you, even after all this time.

You reach the bathroom, the air warm and comforting, and step into the shower. The water rushes over you, and as the steam fills the room, it’s like you’re letting go of all the distance, the years, the heartache.

When you step out, wrapped in a towel, you make your way to the dresser and pull open the drawer. A smile tugs at your lips when you see an old pair of your pajama pants still tucked away, folded neatly beside a few other forgotten clothes. It’s like you never left, like a small part of you has stayed here even when you weren’t.

Slipping on one of Beau’s old shirts, the fabric soft and worn, you feel a strange sense of comfort in the familiarity. The scent of his cologne lingers on the shirt, and for a second, it’s like you’re still that girl who used to live here, who used to be his.

You make your way downstairs, your footsteps muffled on the carpeted stairs, and follow the sound of music drifting from the front porch. When you step outside, you find Beau sitting on the porch bench, his legs stretched out before him, looking out at the pasture as the setting sun casts a golden glow across the land.

The music playing from a little radio beside him is soft with the buzzing of the crickets picking up as the day comes to it’s end. It’s still early spring, when the breeze and the sun take part in a sweet little dance. Like Montana itself is trying to lure you back in. 

Beau’s got a long neck in one hand, and a little mug of tea in the other. 

He doesn’t say anything when you sit down beside him, just hands you the mug wordlessly, as if it’s always been the unspoken thing to do. You take it, inhaling the sweet scent of chamomile tea, your favorite.

You raise an eyebrow at him, your voice soft and teasing. “I know you don’t drink this stuff.”

Beau just shrugs, his gaze still focused on the pasture. “Yeah, yeah,” he says nonchalantly, “still had a tin in the back of the cupboard. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

The gesture is simple, but it hits you harder than you expected. Maybe it’s the way the tea warms your soul, how sitting beside Beau now feels no different than when you were fourteen, or eighteen, or twenty. You wrap your hands around the mug, the warmth seeping into your skin, and you let the silence settle between you, feeling the weight of the moment.

But after a while, it’s you who breaks the silence.

“We really gotta talk about those papers, Beau,” you say softly, your voice almost hesitant, as if you’re not sure how to broach it.

He finally looks at you, his eyes holding that deep, steady gaze that makes it impossible to hide anything. His fingers tighten around the bottle in his hand, and he nods slowly, his voice low and sincere.

“I know, darlin’, I know,” he says, his words slow and deliberate. “Just let me sit here with you, alright? Just like this. Then we’ll go inside, and you can have the bed. I’ll take the couch. Then I’ll sign those papers in the morning.”

You nod, the quiet moment stretching between you both, filling the space with a tenderness that feels oddly comforting.

“I’m not the one you need, Beau," your voice comes out soft, hesitant as you try to grip tight onto remnants of your will to keep him at arms length. "I’m not that same girl you grew up next to, all that fire and fun, it died out a long time ago.” 

His chest puffs with the deep sigh he takes, his eyes staying trained on the setting sun, “I always loved that fire in you, Sassy.” Then he turns, his arm finding it’s place against the back of the bench, his fingers just barely brushing your shoulder. “But that ain't the only thing I loved.”

The sun continues to dip lower in the sky, casting a soft glow over the pasture as you sit beside him, your hands still wrapped around the tea, the gentle hum of the music and the distant sound of the horses your only company. And you can’t find the words to respond to that, not now—hell, you’re not sure you ever will.

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @daylighted @jollyhunter @soldiersgirl @bejeweledinterludes @bluemerakis @cowboysandcigarettes @dulcescorderitas @couturewinx @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts

[muchanmocha]

Do you think that Luka has a hard time understanding and/or feeling remorse for his actions if they don’t directly affect him, and do you think this is why he lacked a reaction at Hyun Woo’s death? Your post about him being horrified by killing his clones when he really wanted to set them free was great, and that, along with him also being horrified at Hyuna’s death, has me wondering this. But Luka seemed to genuinely see Hyun Woo as his friend even though they weren’t as close towards the end, but maybe they had drifted far enough apart in Luka's mind that he didn’t really associate himself with Hyun Woo at that point? What do you think?

[Referencing this post]

I actually have a longer post in the works about how the dead clones scene fits into the bigger picture and why I think it'd basically set everything else in motion, including what happened with Hyun Woo. But I can try to respond with some of the main points here!

-

Why did Luka lack a reaction to Hyun Woo's death, unlike with the clones and Hyuna?

But that's exactly it isn't it? Those two events bookend all of the times inbetween where Luka doesn't seem to care.

The scene with the clones is significant because it's the first time.

The scene with Hyuna is significant because it happened to Hyuna, and as I will get into further down, Hyuna fulfills a specific role for him.

What happened to the dead clones utterly broke his will and Luka chose to cope with that by completely withdrawing into himself, essentially committing to a form of escapism or dissociation.

In your dreams, you'll run and play

In paradise

— Wiege

I think after the clones incident, he basically just started blocking out everything that involves him processing death and loss.

That's where Hyuna comes in.

Hyuna is his escapism.

[Made a post breaking down the events with Hyun Woo here]

What changed with Luka and Hyun Woo wasn't that they drifted apart so Luka didn't care about him enough to be affected by his death.

What changed was that after the clones died, Luka threw away a reality he couldn't cope with to drown himself in Hyuna and only Hyuna.

In other words, he didn't react to Hyun Woo's death because it's part of the reality he's denying. He's (perhaps subconsciously) not allowing himself to acknowledge it or process it.

But he can't do that with Hyuna.

If Hyuna is his way of escaping from reality, where is he supposed to go, to escape to, when she's the one dying?

Despite the blood that follows him, Hyuna is the probably first time he's been forced to confront death since that very first scene with the clones.

Do you think Luka has a hard time understanding/or feeling remorse for his actions if they don't directly affect him?

There are strong implications that come with the fact that Hyuna told Luka to forgive himself.

It means he hasn't forgiven himself.

He keeps running away from what happened, and what's happening, because he isn't able to and won't be able to forgive himself for what he's done.

By not acknowledging the present and not processing the deaths that follow him, he essentially side-steps the problem.

He doesn't have to confront the guilt, shame, internal struggles, or the question of forgiveness... if it had never happened, right?

(To be clear he does know that people have died, whether that be Hyun Woo or the Alien Stage contestants he went up against.)

(However knowing something and processing something are two different things and I suspect he's mentally blocking himself from doing the latter.)

The dead clones incident can only affect him so deeply because he does have the inherent capacity for compassion.

But the world of Alien Stage is not kind to those with compassion. So he throws it away.

The post-Round 7 interview states that Luka looks down on Mizi and co for getting swept up in their emotions.

Luka likely dismisses this as foolishness by simply avoiding it.

— Post Round 7 Q&A, Patreon

Yeah, he does. I mean he basically dialed up that avoidance to 100.

Vivimeng describe Mizi and co as "strong individuals who, in a space that seems inhumane, seek to connect by loving others."

And that's absolutely true. They really are brave individuals for daring to care when it will only hurt more if they do.

At the same time it's understandable that Luka chose to turn away from that.

At a young age, he's already been shown, quite brutally, what happens if you care.

-

Thanks for the ask, anon! I ended up connecting even more dots while writing this up lol

[everyones-doormat]

STAY

PART THREE kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: sae-byeok never let people in—until she met you, ji-yeong’s roommate. You don’t ask for more, you just stay. And for someone who’s always been alone, that changes everything.

warnings: none

Sae-byeok started lingering.

Not just showing up more often, but actually staying.

At first, it was just for meals. A late dinner, a quick snack, sitting with you and Ji-yeong in the living room pretending she wasn’t interested in whatever ridiculous drama was playing on TV.

But then, she started staying longer.

You’d wake up in the morning and find her still there, curled up on the couch, using her hoodie like a makeshift blanket.

Ji-yeong had stopped questioning it after the third time, just tossing her an extra pillow and muttering, “You should just move in at this point.”

Sae-byeok never responded to that. But she never denied it either.

Tonight, you came home to find her alone in the apartment.

Ji-yeong was out—probably with some bad influence, doing something illegal. But Sae-byeok? She was sitting at the table, toying with the cuffs of her jacket.

You frowned, setting your bag down. “Where’s your shadow?”

She glanced up. “Out.”

No explanation. No details. Just out.

You huffed, moving to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “And you? Just decided to break in again?”

She held up Ji-yeong’s spare key between her fingers. “Not breaking in if I have this.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you leaned against the counter, taking a sip from your drink. “You eat yet?”

She shook her head.

You sighed. “Alright, sit tight.”

She watched as you grabbed ingredients from the fridge—what little you had left—and started putting together something edible. She never asked for food, but you knew she’d accept it if you gave it to her.

“You know,” you mused, stirring the pot, “most people would just text before showing up at someone’s place.”

She didn’t respond right away. Then—

“Would you want me to?”

The question made you pause. You turned, finding her watching you with that same unreadable expression.

It wasn’t teasing.

She was genuinely asking.

You tilted your head. “No. Not really.”

Something in her gaze shifted—softened, just a little.

You smirked, turning back to the stove. “Just means you’re stuck with me feeding you whenever you do show up.”

A pause. Then—

“…Guess I can live with that.”

You didn’t turn, but you swore you could hear the tiny smile in her voice.

-

Later that night, after you’d eaten and were both sitting on the couch, Sae-byeok spoke again.

“You never ask questions.”

You glanced at her. “What?”

She was leaning back, her arms crossed, gaze fixed on the ceiling. “You don’t ask about me. Where I go. What I do.”

You hummed, resting your head against the cushion. “Would you answer if I did?”

She didn’t respond.

“Exactly.” You sighed, shifting to get more comfortable. “You don’t owe people explanations just because you exist. You wanna tell me something, you will.”

For a while, she didn’t say anything.

Then, in a voice so quiet you almost missed it—

“I like that about you.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.

Just let the words settle.

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

It was getting harder to ignore.

The way she gravitated toward you. The way she never outright said she liked being around you, but never left either.

The way she sometimes stayed so late that she ended up falling asleep on your couch—small, quiet, curled into herself like she was trying to take up as little space as possible.

Ji-yeong had noticed too.

“You’re so obvious,” she muttered one night while Sae-byeok was in the bathroom.

You raised a brow. “Obvious about what?”

Ji-yeong gave you a knowing look. “You like her.”

You scoffed, leaning back into the couch. “No shit. I let her eat my food, don’t I?”

Ji-yeong rolled her eyes. “Not like that, dumbass.”

You didn’t respond.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

-

The next time you saw Sae-byeok, she was waiting outside your building.

It was past midnight. Cold. The kind of night where most people would be inside, cuddled up in bed.

But she wasn’t.

She was leaning against the wall, hood pulled up, hands shoved into her pockets. She looked up when you approached, eyes scanning you—like she was making sure you were okay.

“You’ve been out here long?” you asked, unlocking the door.

She shrugged. “Not really.”

Which meant probably.

You sighed, pushing the door open. “Come on.”

She followed without hesitation.

Inside, you tossed her a blanket as you kicked off your shoes. She caught it easily, settling into her usual spot on the couch.

You didn’t ask why she was here. You never did.

But this time, she spoke first.

“You don’t care?”

You glanced at her. “About what?”

She shifted slightly. “That I never tell you things.”

You studied her for a moment. She wasn’t looking at you, but you could see the tension in her shoulders, like she was bracing herself for something.

For what, you weren’t sure.

“You tell me what matters,” you said simply.

That got her attention.

She finally met your gaze, something unreadable in her expression. “And if I never do?”

You shrugged. “Then you don’t.”

She blinked, like she hadn’t expected that answer.

You sighed, stretching your legs out. “Look, Sae, I don’t need your life story. I don’t need you to explain yourself. I just—”

You hesitated, then exhaled. “I just like having you around. That’s it.”

She stared at you for a moment.

Then, without a word, she pulled the blanket tighter around herself and leaned back against the couch.

She didn’t say anything else that night.

But when you woke up the next morning, she was still there.

-

<3

[cuteandhughesy]

3. “we really shouldn’t” “so?” with anthony stolarz

he def seems like the type of guy who’d be ur brothers teammate and you’d sleep with him behind ur brothers back 😶

prompt no.3: “we really shouldn’t.” “so?”

your brother mitch has always been protective. you’re his younger sister, two years younger than him, and have always been super kind and naive. from a young age, he saw the way people took advantage of you and felt that it was his responsibility to keep you safe.

when you got a bit older and started dating, mitch’s protectiveness got worse. no boy was good enough, even when they were. mitch would drive boys away with menacing looks and what he called ‘stern talkings’ which are also known as threats.

eventually when you convinced your brother to chill the fuck out a little bit and let you work things out on your own, he surprisingly agreed.

under one circumstance.

you can’t date his friends, and you certainly can’t date his teammates. ever.

and you could live with that. most of mitch’s friends where your friends, and you didn’t see them that way. and when mitch started getting more serious about hockey, he barley went out or had his teammates come over, so you never even met them. steph would ask all the time if you wanted to come to games, but you weren’t really interested.

“maybe you’ll find a guy,” she used to tease, winking at you discreetly in the dim light of the living room.

you always responded the same way, “im not into hockey players.”

when mitch made it to the nhl, you started going to games more often. you got to drink beers that mitch was paying for, and chat with steph about school and boys without the prying ears of your brother and your family.

as the years passed, mitch never strayed from his dating rule or protectiveness over you.

you never planned on rebuking mitch’s dating rule until anthony stolarz waltzed into toronto with a summer tan and a perfect smile. he’s older than you, mature but doesn’t take himself too seriously. anthony introduced himself to you with a playful and intriguing gleam, and it instantly has you feeling things.

and your sister-in-law knows it too, because anytime mitch brings up anthony or the net minder is in the same room as you, she’s wiggling her brows at you and grinning. you hate her.

and it’s fine, you think. it’s just a stupid crush on a new, older man. you’ll get over it. it’s not reciprocated.

expect it’s totally reciprocated, and after too many glasses of wine and a private bathroom at some bar after a win, you and anthony begin hook up. and it doesn’t just end there. you have sex often, and kiss and go on dates even more frequently.

you find yourself in a secret relationship, and at the same time, betraying your older brother. slowly it becomes harder to keep a secret, and the people in your life start noticing.

it starts with steph who just knows you too well. she straight up just asks you, and you blurt it out like you physically can’t hold it in any longer. steph smirked and said, ‘I fucking knew it.’

next came auston matthews, one of mitch’s closest friends and teammates, walks in on your and anthony making out like teenagers in a guest bathroom. to be fair, you didn’t look the door. and it was also auston’s house. you rushed out after the goal scorer, lips glistening and eyes frantic, begging him not to say anything.

auston just laughed and said, ‘don’t worry kid, your secret is safe with me.’

your parents knew, and your closest friends knew (mostly leaf wags who you sworn to secrecy). it started to feel more real, and you certainly got more comfortable.

so yeah you may of had four too many beers at the game. and yeah, when you see your boyfriend walking out of the leafs dressing room, looking divine after a win, you just want to normal and go up to your boyfriend.

it wasn’t uncommon for you to wait in the tunnels with steph for mitch after games, especially when you’ve all driven to the rink together. anthony would always smile at you, a little too sexy for trying to be discrete, but you never pushed those boundaries. not when mitch could walk out.

but once again, you’re well passed tipsy and you just want to live up on your man like all the other wags get to. before you can think about it, you’re walking up to anthony, heels clicking on the floor as you make your way through the crowd.

anthony’s talking to morgan, completely unaware of the way your striding towards him until you’re right in front of him. you wrap your hand around his bicep, blinking up at him with a glossed over expression.

“hi,” you beam, glossy lips tempting.

anthony swallows, eyes squinting in amusement. he shoots a glance at morgan, who is just stifling laughter like he knows—god damn it tessa. “hi,” he parrots.

“missed you,” you whine, pushing up onto the toe of your heeled boots and pucker your lips, “can I have a kiss?”

anthony laughs, rubbing the back of his neck and subtly scanning the room—checking if anyone was watching. morgan has slipped away now, and there’s only a few lingering people left in the tunnel. he sees steph, eyeing you both sneakily. which means mitch is still here.

“we really shouldn’t.” he mumbles. despite his words, anthony lets his hand wrap around your waist, keeping you against his chest to steady your drink sway. he licks along his bottom lip, “your brother could catch us.”

“so?” you huff, pushing even further up his body. “just a quick kiss.” you say. you’re too happy on wine and in love to think about your brothers stupid rule right now. you couldn’t care less about anything besides your gigantic boyfriend—who is grinning down at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

and you are. more than the nhl. more than the stanley cup. more than breathing.

quickly, anthony leans down, free hand enclosing on the side of your face as he tilts your head up, connecting your lips together.

the kiss doesn’t last nearly as long as you need it to, and you whine when anthony pulls off of you. you’re not caught, thankfully, and that only makes you want to kiss him over and over again.

“i’ll see you later, kay?” anthony whispers softly, talking his hand off your hips.

you nod, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and dropping back down to your heels. “love you.”

“love you too.”

—

(unedited)