#i see your blink x mush

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well! Your account has been such a comfort for me these past few months and I’m so grateful for you! I was wondering if I could request a poly!marauders drabble where one of them calls the reader a pet name but they’re still really new to the relationship so they don’t realize that he’s talking to them?

Thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 598 words

You take quiet, giddy pleasure in the chaos of all four of you in the boys’ kitchen. It’s not the tiniest of kitchens, but small enough yet that you can’t move about without brushing or bumping various body parts into each other’s. Honestly, you wouldn’t want to. 

You find yourself deeply enamored by the sound of your knife hitting the cutting board in time with James’, by the way Remus touches your back to reach into the cabinet above your head and Sirius sneaks little bites of your unfinished dinner and slips you some too. Your voices overlap and intertwine, making requests or directions while you dice potatoes at a steady pace. 

“Would you call these finely chopped?” 

“Yeah, I’d say so.” 

“Give that a stir for me please, love.” 

“Where do you guys keep the spices?” 

“Jamie, I’d say that’s more than enough cheese.” 

“Spices are right in that cabinet above you. See? Yeah, there you go.” 

“If, in theory, I forgot to get paprika at the store, would cayenne be a decent substitute?” 

“Do we have chili powder?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Use that.” 

“Would you pass me the thyme, sweetheart?” 

“Sweetheart?” 

You turn only when the kitchen is silent. Remus is looking at you, kind eyes kindly prompting. He nods to just above you. 

“It’s in the spice cabinet there,” he says. “The dried thyme.” 

“Oh.” You blink, reaching for it. “Sorry, I didn’t think you were talking to me.” 

“That’s alright,” says Remus. He takes it from you, a bemused smile playing on the edges of his mouth. “Thank you.” 

“Why wouldn’t he be talking to you?” Sirius asks. 

“I don’t know.” You return to your potatoes, knife thunking against the wooden cutting board. “There are four of us in here, so.” 

Sirius makes a humming sound you know means trouble, and then his arms are needling underneath yours, winding around your middle. His voice is saccharine beside your ear. “Do you not think you have a sweet heart, my love?” 

You laugh. “Don’t,” you say, though you let some of your weight lean backwards into him. Sirius takes it happily. 

“You know you’re our sweetheart.” You may never get used to this, how Sirius can go from teasing to earnest in a second. You can’t always tell which is which, either. He seems to find something worth notice in the crook of your neck, resting his lips there in a long, funny kiss. “Don’t you?” 

You roll your eyes. James shoots you a grin. “I just thought,” you say, “that he might be talking to one of you.” 

Buried beneath your jaw, Sirius makes a noise of disapproval. 

“What?”

“You knew he could be talking to you too, though, right?” James prompts. 

You shrug, moving your eyes back to your work. “I guess.” 

“You guess?” Sirius sets his chin on your shoulder. 

“It just didn’t occur to me in the moment,” you admit. Your potato pieces are getting smaller and smaller. 

Remus laughs. “That won’t do, dove.” 

“See,” you point, smiling, “that one I know.” 

James laughs, too, bumping your hip. “I’d hope so! We’re going to need to start calling you things more often, get you used to it.” 

“I just wasn’t expecting it.” You’re shrinking in on yourself a tiny bit now. Sirius only holds you closer, cooing. 

“Start expecting it,” Remus advises you. 

“Let’s practice.” James raises his eyebrows at you pointedly. “Angel, would you pass me the salt?” 

You huff a laugh, grabbing it for him. “Sure.” 

“Such a quick study!” Sirius praises, mushing another kiss to your cheek. “That’s our girl.” 

[hanniebaeee]

Mr. CEO

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: Extremely adorable Hyunjin - other than that, nothing.

Genre: colleagues to lovers, flufff

Summary: Chris Bang shouldn't be feeling anything for you - you're only an employee in his company. But a very pretty and extremely brilliant one. And Chris is head over heels in love with you. And then there is Hyunjin - your best friend.

Chris didn’t know when it started, exactly. He's seen you during meetings and things a lot, especially since his new office was on your floor and he had a nice clear view of your seat.

He knew you were smart and really good at your job. He didn't really dwell on a pretty face, that's not him. Until one day, he saw you laugh. 

It wasn’t just a polite chuckle or a giggle. No, this was you - head thrown back, cheeks flushed, and laughter bubbling out like you in the purest form. You were leaning against Hyunjin, as usual, your hand casually resting on his thigh while his head bumped against yours as he laughed with you.

Chris froze.

He felt a sudden tightness in his chest - you were breathtakingly beautiful. How did he not see that before? But along with that crept up something else - an inexplicable irritation at seeing how comfortable you were with Hyunjin.

He didn’t have anything against Hyunjin. The guy was a genius, even if he was a little too loud and touchy for Chris’s taste. But the way you leaned into him? The way Hyunjin’s smile was just for you? It screamed couple. 

Chris tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. You were off-limits. Clearly taken. Clearly happy. 

But none of that helped him stop his train of thoughts about how good you looked when you're concentrating on something. Head tilted, exposing the delicate line of your neck. Or the way you gave him a small smile or a nod when you passed him in the hallway. 

It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous. But the more he tried to shove his thoughts aside, the more they clung to him like a curse.

“Get a grip,” he muttered to himself. “She’s with Hyunjin. You’re her boss. She’s off-limits.”

The worst part? You were completely so lost in Hyunjin, you didn't have a chance to notice your boss's slow agonizing downfall. Imagine walking into the lobby and seeing Hyunjin tying your damn scarf for you one evening because “it’s cold, you dummy.”

Chris wanted to punch a wall. Or Hyunjin. Or himself, even.

So, it's only natural that when he overheard two girls talking about you and Hyunjin, he stopped short.

“I just don’t get it,” one of them was whispering.  “How are they not dating?”

Chris froze, his hand hovering over the coffee pot.

“I know, right?” another voice said. “I’d bet money they’re secretly together.”

“I mean, come on. It’s so obvious.”

“I dunno, Hyunjin says they’re just best friends. And yet he turned me down.”

Chris blinked. So you weren't dating?

His heart did something stupid - like a backflip or maybe a somersault - and for the first time in months, he allowed himself to hope.

So the next thing he did was procrastinate. For weeks - just dying on the inside a little bit every time you did something that made Hyunjin drape himself over you. But then, enough was enough and he decided it was time to get to the bottom of this. 

Chris didn’t breathe a word all day. Not while he watched you work. Not when you bickered with Hyunjin over lunch about that questionable mush he was eating (it was disgusting, in his opinion, but he wasn’t about to wade into that battle). And not when you breezed past him later that day, looking miffed, muttering a quick hello on your way.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Chris had convinced himself he was going to die if he didn’t say something.

He caught you in the hallway, calling your name. You paused, bag slung over your shoulder.

“Yeah, boss?”

Chris winced. That title was a cruel reminder of how completely out of his league you should be. But there was little respect in the way you said it. He knew you were teasing him.

But he’d come this far.

“I-” He cleared his throat. God, why was this so hard? He made multi-million-dollar deals without breaking a sweat.

This? This was excruciating.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head like you were about to tease him again. He racked his brain for a good enough line to throw your way. How do you ask girls out? Has he never done this before? Oh sorry, no. He was busy becoming a CEO. 

“I like you.” There. He said it.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Then your lips parted as if you were about to say something, but nothing came out.

“I mean, I more than like you. I-” He ran a hand through his hair, looking absolutely terrified. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for months, and I know I’m your boss, and this is probably wildly inappropriate. Oh my God, is this workplace harassment? I don't mean to…but I can’t-”

He was freaking out.

“Chris.”

Your voice was soft, but it stopped his rant instantly.

You took a step closer, a small smile appearing on your face now.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re in love with me?” you asked, and Chris faltered.

He exhaled sharply, like the word itself had taken the wind out of him. “Yeah.”

You just stared at him, and for a horrifying moment, he thought he’d completely misread everything. Maybe he’d just ruined everything. You were going to report him. His mum was going to kill him. 

“Pick me up at seven on Friday.”

Chris blinked. “What?”

“For our date,” you said, your grin widening. “I'll text you my address.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water.

“Yeah.. Wha-” He was dying. 

You laughed, and said, “You heard me, boss. Don’t be late.”

And with that, you walked out, leaving Chris standing there like an idiot, his heart pounding in his chest and his cheeks burning. He walked back to his office like a zombie, and sat down in his chair, staring blankly at his desk.

He had a date with you. You liked him back.

“Holy shit,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

As soon as you stepped out of the office, your heart still hammering from Chris’s confession, you quickly called Hyunjin, your hands shaking uncontrollably. He picked up on the first ring.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to emotionally dump all over me?” His voice had immediate calming effects on you. 

“Get your skinny ass outside,” you hissed into the phone. “Right now.”

Two minutes later, Hyunjin was striding out of the building, his tie loosened. 

“Are you ok-”

“He asked me out.”

Hyunjin stopped mid-step, blinking. “What, who?”

“Christopher Bang!” you burst out, your hands flailing. “He just - he said he likes me, and and and-”

Hyunjin’s mouth dropped open and you grip at his warm hands with your icy ones.

“Are you kidding me?” he howled, his eyes flashing with excitement. “I knew it! I told you he had the hots for you! I told you! And you were all, ‘No, Hyunjin, he’s just my boss. He doesn’t like me like that.’”

You narrow your eyes at the way he was imitating you and smack his shoulder.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Now tell me everything. Was it romantic? Did he stutter? Please tell me he stuttered.”

“Hyunjin!”

---

Chris arrived to pick you up for your date at 7:00 PM, sharp. He looked devastatingly handsome in a tailored black suit, his perfectly styled hair gleaming under the soft light of the porch. And he held out a massive bouquet of the deepest red roses you’d ever seen.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but so deep, that it had your heart fluttering.

“Hi,” you breathed, trying to ignore the way your stomach was doing all kinds of flips.

He held the bouquet towards you, his cheeks tinged with the faintest pink.

“Thank you, Chris” You said, taking them and inhaling the sweet scent.

His lips quirked into a tiny smirk, the kind that made you want to kiss it right off his face. He stepped inside and watched as you put the flowers in a vase real quick, before turning to him and saying, “Let’s go, Mr. CEO.”

And just as you thought, it was truly unforgettable. Chris was the perfect gentleman - engaging, funny, and so incredibly attentive that it was hard to believe this was the same man who struck fear into the hearts of board members. And every time you caught him staring at you with those soft, adoring eyes, you felt your heart race.

And the best part? Watching this big, muscled man melt into a puddle every time you smiled at him.

By the time he pulled up in front of your apartment, and walked you to your door, you know the poor man is doing his best to behave.

“Well,” he said, his voice a little husky, “I had a great time tonight.”

“Me too,” you replied, your cheeks warming under his gaze.

There was a beat of silence, and you could see his fingers twitching at his sides, his lips parting like he was about to say something, but then he didn’t.

“Chris?” you said finally.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to kiss me, or do I have to do everything myself?”

His eyes widened, freezing for a moment before he surged forward, his hands cupping your face as his lips claimed yours. And oh, it was worth the wait.

Chris kissed you like a man starved. Like he’d been holding back for so long. His lips were so warm and firm but gentle, his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer.

When you finally pulled away, he gazed at you with so much love. And then you're both giggling breathlessly.

---

After Chris left, you barely had time to change your clothes before your doorbell rang. For a second you thought it's him again, but you opened the door to find Hyunjin standing there, a tub of ice cream in one hand.

He pushed past you into your warm living room, saying, “Don’t mind me, I’m just here for the juicy details.”

“Jinnie!” You watched him wander into your kitchen, and come back with two spoons. 

“What?” He plopped onto your couch, already digging in. “Spill. I need to know everything”

You groaned, but still took the spoon from him and sat next to him.

“So?”

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips as you said, “It was perfect.”

Hyunjin gasped dramatically, clutching his chest.

“Oh my God!” he wailed. “My bestie and the CEO!”

“Shut up!” You laughed, trying to shove him off the couch, but he just tackled you into a hug.

“I’m so happy for you,” he said, his voice softer now. “Really.”

You couldn’t help but smile, because you're really happy, and you hug him tightly.

Being in a relationship with the CEO was one thing. But maintaining professionalism, and a strict distance sometimes got so hard. Especially when he was thirsty as hell. 

You were doing quite well actually. But unfortunately for you, the biggest threat to your secret wasn’t the HR or prying coworkers or even Chris's lack of self control. It was your best friend and ultimate menace, Hyunjin.

He enjoyed tormenting Chris. He basically lived for it. It started out of nowhere with Hyunjin strolling into work one morning, a coffee mug in one hand and a mischievous grin on his ridiculously pretty face. He dropped into his seat and said, “You look guilty. Did you do something naughty with Mr. -?”

Your head snapped up and you glared daggers at him, hissing, “Hyunjin, for the love of God, lower your voice!”

“Relax.” He waved a hand, laughing. “Nobody cares. Well, except me, of course. Because watching your boyfriend go green with jealousy is my favorite pastime.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Shush!”

Before you could shoo this menace away, your phone buzzed on the desk. Hyunjin leaned over at the speed of light before you could hide the screen. His eyes widened as he read the notification.

Chris: What are the chances I can get out of that dress in 15 minutes? I have some time before my next meeting. And, my office is soundproof.

You choked on your coffee, fumbling with the phone to swipe the notification away. Hyunjin gagged audibly, clutching his chest.

“Oh my god. EWWW.” he cried and you slapped your hand on his mouth to shut him up. 

Chris's office door swung open, and there stood Chris, his eyes zeroing in on your hand pressed to his mouth, his jaw tightening. He is by your seat in record time, fixing you both in a glare.

“Hyunjin. Do you not have work to do?” Chris’s voice was low, a warning.

“I’m on my break. Thought I’d spend it with my bestie.” Hyunjin grinned, not even a little intimidated.

Chris crossed his arms, glaring at Hyunjin like he was contemplating ways to legally fire him.

“I could arrange for you to have a lot of free time if you’d like.” he bit out, making you snort.

“Oooo is that a threat? Because it sounded like one.” Hyunjin asked, sitting back on his chair lazily.

“Take it however you want.”

“Guys, that's enough!” you snapped, slapping Hyunjin on his knee, and he sat up straight.

Chris looked at you with a sigh and said, “A word?”

You follow him into the hallway, picking up a file just to make it look real. 

“He’s touching you a lot.” His voice was low, dangerous.

“He’s my best friend, Chris.” You said and your tone was firm enough to let him know that he can't go there. 

“I don’t care,” he growled, his eyes darkening. “If he keeps testing me, he won’t have a job.”

“You won't do that.”

Chris smirked as he said,“Wouldn’t I?”

This battle between Hyunjjn and Chris was literally the highlight of your day - you can't lie about that. You enjoyed every minute of it. But Chris' jealousy always led him to text you absolute filth. Because though he acted all calm and composed, he's not very demure when it comes to you. 

---

By noon this had escalated to a point where you were squirming in your seat, thanks to your boyfriend’s sheer audacity. 

You took a deep breath before entering Chris’s office, files in hand and a determined scowl on your face.

Having a secret relationship was hard? Well try having one with a perpetually horny man - it was even harder. You can't be yourself here, but you could definitely scold him. Quietly.

You pushed the door open, ignoring the way his gaze instantly snapped up to you. He was leaning back in his chair, all smug confidence and all that.

“Here are the files you asked for,” you said crisply, dropping them onto his desk.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone warm, his eyes raking over you shamelessly. 

“Chris.”

“Yes, darling?”

“Can you please stop texting me like that?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

He tilted his head, pretending to think about it and said, “Hmm. No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“It’s your own fault. You come here dressed like that, and then flirt with Hyunjin for 9 hours. What do you expect me to do? Sit here quietly and not think about getting you on my desk?” 

You pointed at him, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “You are crazy.”

“That I am.” He smirked, leaning forward with his elbows on his desk. 

You glared at him, your cheeks burning, and turned on your heel to leave. The second you sat down, your phone buzzed again.

Chris: I love you, baby.

You groaned audibly, dropping your forehead onto your desk, trying to hide the smile on your face.

By Friday, you needed a vacation. Or maybe a spiritual cleanse. 

You and Hyunjin had decided to go out for drinks - like you always did. Halfway through a round of shots with Hyunjin, your phone buzzed.

Chris: What are you up to?

Chris: Your text about going out with that menace was rather vague. 

You glanced at Hyunjin, a wicked smile spreading across your face. “Wanna annoy Chris?”

He grinned back as he said, “Always.”

You opened the camera app, and leaned back against Hyunjin, the shimmering glow of the bar lights making you both look just so sinful. Hyunjin, had one arm draped around your shoulders, smirking. You hit send, and waited.

Chris’s reply came instantly.

Chris: Of course. Of course.

You sipped your drink, biting back a smile as you typed.

You: Just out for drinks. You were too busy, remember?

Hyunjin snorted and said, “You’re gonna give him an aneurysm.”

“Good,” you said, snapping another selfie - Hyunjin had dipped his head closer, and your free hand was around him. You hit send.

It didn’t take long for the next reply.

Chris: Stop.

You: Stop what? 

Chris: Don’t play dumb.

Chris: You know exactly what you’re doing.

Chris: Get your ass home. Now.

You: No. Not until you learn that Jinnie is my best friend, and he's not your competition. So yeah. I'm not going anywhere.

Hyunjin leaned closer, as he whispered dramatically, “Oh no, Daddy Bang is mad.”

You slapped his arm, but still laughing as you said, “Jinnie, stop!”

Chris: That's enough. I'm not jealous.

You: Relax.

Chris: You know what? I’m coming.

“You're so evil! Now he's going to show up like Batman, all angry and in a suit.”

“He’s just bluffing.” you said, because how the hell does he know where you were?

Except… he wasn’t.

Around ten minutes later, the bar’s door swung open, and there he was.

Chris Bang in all his furious, suit-clad glory, looking like he’d just accidentally wandered into the wrong party.

You froze, mid-laugh. Hyunjin, however, did not.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, trying - and failing - not to laugh. “He’s actually here.”

Chris’s eyes locked onto you instantly. And he could see you both were tipsy. 

“Up. Now,” he ordered, his voice firm and unyielding.

Hyunjin leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself.

“Hey, Mr. Bang. Fancy seeing you here. Want a drink?” he said, batting his eyes at Chris.

Chris’s jaw tightened. “You’re coming too.”

Hyunjin blinked, clearly not expecting that. Chris didn’t bother repeating himself, but just grabbed your wrist, pulling you to your feet, then fixed Hyunjin with a glare that left no room for argument.

“Let’s go.” he said, turning and walking away.

—--

And the car ride was… tense.

Chris sat in the driver’s seat, his jaw clenched so tight. You were in the passenger seat, still buzzing from the alcohol. 

And Hyunjin? He was in the back, one hand over his mouth, his body shaking with suppressed laughter.

“This is the best Friday night ever,” he announced. “Can we do this again next week?”

“Hyunjin, shut up.” Chris said, shooting him a glare through the rearview mirror.

“Aw, come on, Mr. Bang. You know you love me.” Hyunjin snickered, leaning forward.

Chris didn’t answer, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the steering wheel.

You, meanwhile, were squirming in your seat, and not because you were nervous. Chris’s anger was doing things to you, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold it together.

“Are you mad at me, Mr. Bang?” you asked, your voice so teasing.

“Don’t start.”

“Start what?” you asked innocently, biting your lip.

Hyunjin choked on his laughter, muttering, “Oh my god.”

Once home, Chris wasted no time separating you and Hyunjin like two kids in time-out.

“You,” he said, pointing at Hyunjin. “Guest room. Down the hall, second door on the left.”

“Wait, I get to stay? You’re not throwing me out onto the street?” Hyunjin asked, surprised again. 

Chris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and said, “Unfortunately.”

Hyunjin clasped his hands together, the drama kicking in as he said, “Mr. Bang, you’re too kind.”

“Enough,” Chris interrupted, holding up a hand, before leading him into the room and giving him some pyjamas to change into.

“And you,” he said to you, his voice low, “upstairs.”

Oh yeah, you both got the biggest (longest) lecture of your lives about drinking in shady bars and being irresponsible the next morning. That too while suffering hangovers and before breakfast. Cruel. 

---

Chris learned (a very hard lesson) that your lives were not exactly matching in any way possible. He played golf with business partners and hung out in restaurants that, like Hyunjin said, would charge for breathing in there. While you and Hyunjin, found pleasure in the simpler things in life. 

Like this 2000-piece jigsaw puzzle of Hogwarts Castle, spread out on your living room floor. Pieces in every shade of gray, black, and midnight blue mocked you and Hyunjin from every angle.

Hyunjin let out a dramatic groan, flopping back onto the carpet.

“What am I supposed to do with 92000 shades of darkness?!” he wailed. 

“Oh my God, Hyun,” you laughed, nudging him with your toe. 

“I can’t believe I’m enabling your Harry Potter obsession again.” he grumbled. “Where is your boyfriend anyway? Why do I have to suffer alone?”

You stuck your tongue out at him and said, “Oh, come on. You love it.”

“Love is a strong word,” he said, holding up two identical-looking black pieces with a glare.

Your phone buzzed and you glanced at the screen, smiling instantly.

Chris: Hey babe, what's going on?

You click a picture of the puzzle on your floor, sending it across.

You: Trying to tackle this monstrosity. Wanna come help?

Chris: Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

Your heart squeezed. Intrude? It was so Chris to worry about things like that.

You: Babe, I want you here in 5 minutes.

---

When Chris arrived, you were so excited, you flung yourself into his arms, pulling him into a kiss that made Hyunjin groan loudly from the living room.

“Hey, some of us are single,” Hyunjin called out, clearly unimpressed. “Can you not?”

The three of you ended up on the floor, Hyunjin pushing all the dark pieces towards Chris quickly. 

“Looks…complicated,” Chris commented, eyeing the puzzle. 

“It’s hell,” Hyunjin confirmed, tossing another black piece into the pile. “But welcome to the party, boss man.”

“Alright. Where do I start?” Chris smirked, rolling up his sleeves.

The three of you settled into a rhythm, though it was more chaotic than you could've thought.

“Why does every piece look like a window?” Hyunjin muttered under his breath, while Chris’s look of concentration had you snickering. 

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” you teased, laying your head on his shoulder. 

“Of course,” he said, placing a piece with a soft click. “If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right.”

“Even his puzzles have to be CEO-level perfect.” Hyunjin snorted. 

“I’m the only one actually making any progress here.” Chris retorted. 

“Are you saying I’m bad at puzzles? I’ll have you know I’m -” Hyunjin gasped, clutching his chest.

“Terrible,” you interrupted, grinning as you handed Chris another piece. “Just terrible.”

Chris laughed as he leaned closer to you and said, “Glad I’m not the only one who sees it.”

As the hours passed, the puzzle started to take shape.

“You’re good at this,” you murmured, watching him fit another piece into place.

Chris glanced at you, his eyes soft and said, “I’m good at a lot of things.”

“Eww gross,” Hyunjin muttered, tossing a piece at Chris. “This is supposed to be wholesome. Stop making it sexy.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around Chris’s waist.

“So, Jinnie and I are planning a trip to the Christmas market outside the city on Saturday.” you said. “We do it every year, so I thought, you'd like to come this year?”

“You want me to come?” Chris asked, his eyes moving from you to Hyunjin. 

“Of course,” you said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Don’t get too excited, boss. She probably just wants an extra set of hands to carry her bags.” Hyunjin snorted from behind you.

“Shut up,” you said, swatting him on the arm. 

Chris’s eyes flicked between you and Hyunjin before settling on you, his smile growing.

“Fine. We’ll take my car and make it a road trip.” Chris said, smiling.

Saturday Morning – 5:45 AM

The sun hadn’t even risen, and you were already bouncing with excitement as Chris pulled his sleek black SUV in front of your building. You were dressed in your coziest winter coat, gloves, and scarf, while Hyunjin stumbled out in a hoodie and looked like he'd just rolled out of bed.

“This is an ungodly hour,” Hyunjin grumbled, throwing himself into the back seat. “I hate both of you.”

Chris smirked and said, “Good morning to you too.”

“Shh,” Hyunjin muttered, curling into a ball. “Please.”

You turned in your seat to look at him, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Call me when we’re there,” he mumbled, pulling a blanket (which he brought with him) over his head.

“I take it he’s not a morning person?” Chris chuckled as he pulled onto the road.

“Oh, he’s a delight,” you said sarcastically, earning you a nudge from the back. 

---

The drive was quiet and peaceful, with Hyunjin snoozing in the back and soft Christmas music playing in the background (because you're in a festive mood). At one point, Chris’s hand drifted to rest on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles through your leggings.

“You’re really excited about this, huh?” he asked, glancing at you.

You nodded, your cheeks warm from his touch. “It’s kind of our thing…we've never broken the tradition…since we became friends.”

“I’m glad you invited me.” Chris said softly, and you squeezed his hand and said, “You’re part of my thing now.”

His eyes softened, and he lifted your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Good to know.”

---

Hyunjin woke up the second the car pulled into the parking lot.

“We’re here! Let’s go!” he shouted, practically bursting out of the car like he wasn't snoring just a minute ago.

Chris looked at you, thoroughly amused.

“I thought he hated mornings?” he said.

“Magic of Christmas,” you replied with a shrug, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the market entrance.

The market was a whirlwind of lights, scents, and laughter. There were twinkling fairy lights strung between wooden stalls, the smell of roasted chestnuts and mulled wine in the air, and carolers singing in the background.

Chris looked mildly overwhelmed, especially when Hyunjin shoved a steaming cup of hot chocolate into his hand. “Drink up Mr. Bang. Where's all the energy huh?”

“You can call me Chris when we're out of work, Hyunjin,” Chris said, shooting him a sideways glare.

“Aw, really?” Hyunjin pressed, with a grin. “You’re our sugar daddy funding this very festive adventure, I'll call you whatever you want.”

Chris shot you a helpless look, and you burst out laughing, linking your arm through his other one.

“We love you, baby,” you said, grinning up at him. “I know this is a little out of your style-”

“That’s an understatement,” Chris muttered, but his lips gave away a little smile. 

You and Hyunjin darted between the stalls like overexcited toddlers, as the number of bags Chris was holding increased alarmingly.

As the night went on, Chris found himself both entertained and quietly overwhelmed. You and Hyunjin were a whirlwind of energy, and as Chris  watched you loop your arm through Hyunjin’s, he realized that you and Hyunjin had a connection he couldn’t touch. A bond so natural and easy, it made him wonder if he’d ever truly get there.

Chris’s thoughts were interrupted when you snuggled closer to him, because it was getting so cold. As you got ready to leave, you saw a stand selling cotton candy, and you wanted it. Chris muttered something about “all that sugar”, but went on to buy one for you anyway.

You and Hyunjin were waiting when a man (half drunk), hit on Hyunjin. Hyunjin scowled and said, “I have a boyfriend, mind you!”

Just then, Chris came walking, cotton candy in hand, which Hyunjin quickly took from him. Chris eyed the man who was staring at him open-mouthed. 

“Is there a problem?” He asked, his eyes falling on you, as you tried not to burst out laughing. 

“No, love, we're good.” Hyunjin said, rolling his eyes, before getting into the car like nothing happened. 

Chris just sighed, not even bothering to ask what that was all about. 

The drive back was quiet. You had passed out in the backseat, too exhausted after hours of walking and a tummy full of Christmas treats.

Hyunjin sat in the passenger seat beside Chris and he could see that Chris was tense. With a sigh, Hyunjin turned to face him and said, “Ok, Mr. Bang. What's going on?”

“What?” Chris's eyes flickered over to him for a second, then back to the road.

“You look like you'll explode any minute. What's the matter?” Hyunjin asked, raising his eyebrows. “And please, don't tell me it's nothing.”

Chris sighed, his watching you sleeping in the backseat through the rear view mirror, and then he said, “I…sometimes I worry about how you two have this connection, this bond that’s...so intense. You know her so well…and sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be enough for her. Because, I'm nothing like you, Hyunjin. My life has been completely different, and I worry that she'll be bored-”

Hyunjin’s lips quirked up, but there was a softness in his eyes as he glanced over at Chris.

“Oh wow. I have heard of over-thinking, but this is some next level shit,” Hyunjin laughed softly. “Dude, she's crazy about you. Yeah, we are really good with each other and all that, of course, she's my best friend. Literally my soul mate, only platonically, but yeah. But please, you have nothing to worry about. You’re with her now, and that’s all that matters.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” Chris admitted. “But I’m trying. I love her…I've never…never before…”

“You’re doing just fine. She's really happy.” Hyunjin said with a smirk. 

Chris nodded, visibly relaxing as he said, “I’ll try to remember that. Thanks.”

---

When Chris parked his car outside your apartment building, your tired body could barely function. Your legs were sore from all the walking.

“I’m so tired,” you whined. “My legs are killing me, Chris. Can you -”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Chris came over and scooped you up into his arms, without a second thought, and you smiled against his neck as you held on.

“I got you,” he murmured as he carried you all the way inside, your head resting against his chest, your eyelids fluttering closed.

When he finally reached your bedroom, he gently placed you in your bed, quickly getting rid of your shoes, coat, mittens and scarf. His hands brushed over your hair as he tucked the covers around you, his gaze soft and almost tender.

“Good night,” he whispered, his lips landing a gentle kiss on your cheek, and his hand lingering at your side for a moment before he turned to leave.

But you caught his wrist, pulling him back.

“Stay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Please, just... stay with me.”

He didn’t say anything, just took off his coat and shoes, and slid into the bed beside you, holding you close. The silence enveloped you both, and you drifted off into a deep sleep.

---

Hyunjin, of course, wandered into your apartment the next morning with coffee and breakfast, and walked straight into this scene - Chris still next to you, his arm draped over you protectively, and you, snuggled into him. He just grinned mischievously and snapped a photo for the memories.

“I see you took my advice, good choice,” Hyunjin said, looking at Chris, who was already wide awake and glaring at him.

“You're an idiot,” Chris muttered, but there was a softness in his eyes.

Hyunjin just chuckled, holding up his coffee. 

“Come get your coffee, Daddy Bang,” He said, laughing as Chris threw a pillow his way.

“Hyunjin, shut up!” You yelled, pulling Chris closer. “And you, come here,”

Chris grinned as he let you pull him closer (if that was even possible). This was perfect.

Hyunjin was right.

Tags : @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟑 ꕤ

Bang Chan x fem!reader: daddy kink

summary: You wouldn't have known that your boyfriend had a certain thing for a certain word...

warnings: smut, the d word usage, jeongin being a little shit...

word count: 1.2k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

You were on your hands and knees, on Chris’ bed. He was moving inside of you, in and out, from behind you. His hands laid on your ass cheeks, gripping tightly. 

Chris’ hand came onto your ass to swat your cheek, making you mewl, muffled by the pillow under you. 

“You like that?” Chris asked you, his voice toned down due to Jeongin’s asleep form next door. 

You nodded your head and Chris angled his hips, hitting your spot harder, making you arch your back and moan brokenly. 

“I asked you a question, babe” he whispered to you.

“Y-yes, daddy” you moaned, your brain too much of a mush to actually think about what you were saying.

His hips came to a halt all of a sudden. 

Your eyes widened at the word that slipped past your lips.

Fuck. 

You fucked up. It only slipped up, you didn’t mean to actually call him that. 

Why did I call him that? Now he’s probably weirded out, he’s gonna break up with me, he’s gonna kick me out of his apartment, probably block me-

“What did you just say?” he asked you.

You bit your lip and clenched your eyes, wishing with all your might that the ground would just swallow you up whole. 

“I…”

“Say that again” Chris demanded you.

Oh… oh?

He liked it?

“I…

Chris surprised you by grabbing you by the hair, making your back hit his warm chest. The action made you yelp and grab his arm that was holding your hair, and the other one came to clutch his back. 

His free arm came to wrap your waist, holding you tightly.

“I told you… to say that again” he said slowly and dangerously. 

You gulped and looked back at him. “Chris… I…” you stammered, unsure of what to do.

“Come on… what did you just call me?” he smirked at you, making you squirm in your place. 

You blinked a couple of times, feeling dumb that your brain couldn’t seem to work properly. “D-daddy?”

You saw him clench his eyes and exhale through his nose. “Fuck, again” he moaned. 

“Daddy” you called him again, with more certainty this time. 

He started thrusting once again, with more force this time, punishing your spot with his tip. You almost fell back on your arms but Chris kept you in place, while his mouth was nibbling at your ear. 

“Keep calling me daddy, baby, come on” he urged you, and then grabbed your neck, applying slight pressure. 

He continued hitting that spot that made you see stars and slight white spots clouded your vision. “Da-daddy” you blabbered, the coherence in your brain inexistent as your nails dug into the back of his hand that was holding you in place. “Daddy, harder, please” 

Chris growled and pushed you down on the bed by the back of your back, his hands grabbed your hips and set a furious, punishing pace that had you screaming onto the pillows, not caring anymore about waking up the whole floor. 

He planted one of his feet on the bed and thrusted even deeper inside you, if it was even possible. 

“Daddy, daddy, I’m close” you whimpered, your fingers close to ripping the sheets to threads from how hard you were gripping them. 

“Fuuuck, babe, me too” he whined, his thrusts getting sloppier and slightly uneven, but still hard and fast nonetheless. 

You clenched around him as you felt the familiar burn on your lower stomach. 

“Daddy!” you whimpered loudly when you felt his fingers start to rub tight circles around your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

Your toes curled and legs shook as you felt the orgasm crash all over you, feeling like your body was about to pass out. 

You didn’t even notice Chris’ hard thrusts as the shallow noise of skin slapping on skin stopped when he stilled to let his cum fill you up completely to the brim. He panted loudly as he fell next to you on his back. 

His head turned to look at you while a hand brushed over your arm. “You okay, sweetie?” he asked you, worry lacing up with his tone as he saw how erratic your breath had become.

“I can’t feel anything… am I dead?” you asked him, making him chuckle out loud. 

He smiled widely and your heart flipped. “No, you’re alive, baby” he said, and grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. “What was that earlier?” 

You blushed crimson red and hid your face on the pillow. “Nothing” you said, your voice muffled by the sheets. 

He giggled like a little kid and poked your side, making you squeal. “Yeah, what was that that you called me? Daddy?”

You looked at him in the eyes and bit your lip. “You sure seemed to like that shit?”

“Like it?” he asked and pulled you on top of him, making you wince due to the soreness in between your legs. The mixed juices from both of you were oozing out of you, hitting his leg but Chris didn’t seem to care at all. “I loved it, baby” he replied to you and you bit your lip. 

“I should call you that more often then” you said, raising your eyebrows teasingly.

“Oh, yeah, please” he said, kissing your lips. “Do it any time you want”

── .✦

Chris and you woke up the next day, and took a shower to start the day refreshed and clean from everything you did last night.

You dressed up in some loose jeans and a fit top, and put on some cute boots. 

“Do you wanna go out for lunch later? I have to hit the studio at three and I’m afraid I won't have much free time for us” he pouted.

“Of course, baby” you smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He arched his eyebrows after you pulled away.

“I’m not calling you daddy now, Chris, save that for later”

“Aww” he pouted and you laughed at him, grabbing his arm and pulling him along with you. 

You both got out of the room and found Jeongin washing the dishes from the breakfast he had. 

You sat down with Chris next to you and the youngest turned around and smiled at you. “Hey, guys” he chirply greeted you.

“Hey, Innie” you said with a smile.

“How did you guys sleep last night?” he asked curiously.

You choked on your own breath when you recognized his knowing smirk.

“Knock it off” Chris warningly said to him.

“Why should I… daddy?” Jeongin said slowly. 

Your eyes widened and your face blushed deep red.

“Jeongin!” Chris yelped, standing up abruptly “Shut up, and certainly don’t tell the others”

“Oh, no, I definitely won't’” he shook his head, feigning innocence. 

Chris looked at Jeongin smiling to himself as he shut himself inside his room. 

“Do you think he said something?” you asked him, watching him plop down on his seat once again.

Chris sighed and didn’t say anything, grabbing his phone. His eyes visibly widened when he clicked on the group chat he had with his eight children. He dropped the phone on the table and stood up again, walking towards Jeongin’s room. 

“I’m killing that son of a bitch”

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle

i apologize if i can't tag u :(

[piroulinewafers]

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: caleb x fem! reader 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: caleb is a little too into your new braces. 𝐜𝐰: pseudo-incest, general nsfw warning, weird teeth discussion idk.

caleb noticed it the moment she stepped into the room. it wasn’t just the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes— it was the way she kept her lips pressed tights. the small winces she tried to hide whenever she spoke, the quivering jut of her lower lip, and the faint flush creeping up her neck like she was expecting judgement. 

“what’s wrong?” he asked, gently, from where he was lounging on the couch, a hand unconsciously moving to pick at a stray thread on his blue pajama shirt. 

she hesitated at the threshold, shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other. “you’re gonna laugh…”

“not unless you trip over the coffee table,” he teased lightly. “even then, only a little.” 

that earned a reluctant smile. sort of. she crossed the room and collapsed onto the other end of the couch with a groan, the pillows acquiescing to the additional weight. “i got braces…”

caleb blinked. “oh. that’s it? i thought you were thinkin’ of runnin’ away.” 

“that’s it!?” she shot back, rubbing her jaw. “i feel like all my teeth are digging into my gums… i can’t eat anything but mush, and i look like a kid playing with tinfoil.”

he sat up a little straighter, watching her face carefully. she was chewing her bottom lip— a habit she probably shouldn’t keep with all that new hardware in her little mouth.

caleb leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied her face with an intense, almost obsessive gaze, the gears in his brain whirring. his purple eyes flicked back and forth, taking in every detail of her frown face, once adorned with a perfect smile.

“come here,” caleb said, his voice low and commanding. he patted his lab, and indication for her to come closer and sit with him. “let me see ‘em properly.” 

“i look ridiculous— “

“you don’t,” he said firmly, reaching out to tug at her sleeve. “c’mon. just humour your gege a little.”

reluctantly, she got up, slowly stalking over before settling herself onto his lap, her frame fitting perfectly against his own. 

caleb wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close as he reached up with his other hand to tilt her chin towards him. his fingers brushed against her cheek, tilting her head this way and that as he examined the braces covering her teeth. 

“sore?” he asked, his voice low as he ran his thumb over the edge of the brace on her front tooth. he could feel her nodding against his hand, and he couldn’t help but frown at the thought of her being uncomfortable. 

the braces gleamed under the dim light of their living room— tiny metal brackets carefully glued to each tooth, linked by a taut silver wire threaded through each one and each individually wrapped with a pretty pink elastic band, like a present. her gums were a little bit puffy around the edges. 

“they look… different,” he said, trying to find the right words. different from what he was used to, at least. he had always loved her smile, the way it would light up a room and make him feel at ease. but now, seeing her with braces, it was strange. 

foreign. almost wrong. but not bad.

as he sat there, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, thick fingers brushing over her teeth, he couldn’t shake the feeling of possessiveness that washed over her. these braces were a part of her now, a part of his meimei. and he wanted to claim them, to make them his own in some way as he had discreetly claimed every part of her before.

his mind began to wander, drifting to places he knew it shouldn’t go as he stared at her braces, a twisted desire stirring within him. 

he imagined the cold metal glinting with a different sort of moisture, painted a creamy white as he marked her mouth with his seed. the thought of seeing his own spend clinging to the wires and brackets, staining her once pristine braces, sent a shiver of perverse excitement down his spine.

he pictured her on his knees, her doe eyes looking up at him as she took his hard, aching cock into her hands. 

“gege, i dunno… i don’t wanna hurt you.” the idea was laughable. she, hurt him? she would be so silly to even think such a thing, but he knew her pretty little head would flit through all sorts of scenarios. 

he could practically see the braces catching on his sensitive skin, the metal digging and almost nicking his flesh as she tried her best to please him. the discomfort, the pain… he was sure it would feel exquisite, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain that would surely send him over.

caleb’s cock would be too big for her small mouth, stretching her lips wide and making it hard for her to keep a proper seal. she would have to use her tongue, running it along the underside of his shaft, over the head, swirling around it clumsily as she tried to find a good rhythm.

of course, it would be a pathetic, laughable attempt, but that’s what made it perfect. it’s what made her perfect.

he would surely have to guide her, his large hands cupping her face and holding her still as he thrust into her warm, wet mouth. he would be gentle at first, letting her get used to the feeling of him on her tongue, filling her throat. but as the pleasure mounted, he would lose control, his hips snapping forward as he fucked into the tight, slick heat of her mouth. 

he didn’t want to hurt her, not on purpose of course, but he could imagine the panicked expression on her face, a twist of discomfort and a yearn for his approval as he battered her poor throat. would her new braces nick and bite at inside of her mouth? the sound of her muffled whimpers would surely be enough to make any man cum.

caleb could only imagine the sight of his thick, hot cum spurting out from between her stretched lips, painting her braces and teeth an obscene shade of white. he would pull out at just the last moment, gripping himself tightly as he aimed his cock at her waiting mouth, watching spurt after spurt of his seed lad on her cheeks, her lips, her teeth, her braces. a shiny, pearlescent white, his own personal brand of “toothpaste” just for his little sister. he would make sure she was covered in it, marked inside and out as his. 

his, his, his.

he swallowed thickly, trying his best to clear the his thoughts. he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help the way his imagination ran wild with the thought of marking her, claiming her in the most intimate way possible and tainting her innocence. 

“they’re not so bad,” he murmured, his thumb still brushing over the cold metal. “you’ll get used to them.” 

he looked into her eyes, seeing the embarrassment and slight discomfort reflected in them. his poor meimei… how would she be able to handle what life had to throw her way when she could barely handle this? 

“i promise.” 

she bit her lip again, teeth digging into the soft flesh as she looked up at caleb. “i guess,” she said, her voice small and uncertain. “i just… i feel so silly with them on. and they sorta hurt all the time.” she made a face, sticking out her tongue to show caleb the inside of her mouth, the braces glinting in the soft light of the room again. caleb couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression on her face. “aw, you poor baby,” he teased, his fingers moving to tap lightly against his nose after he sloppily wiped them on his pajama pants. “but hey, at least they’ll make your smile even more perfect than it already was.” he grinned her, his own teeth flashing

she simply rolled her eyes, gently pushing him, but not enough to actually force a distance between the two of them. not that he would allow that. “you’re just saying that.” she said, but there was no real heat behind her words.

caleb shrugged, his arm tightening around her waist. “hmm, maybe,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “but i’m still gonna make sure you’re okay. no matter what.” his eyes shone with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat, and she quickly looked away, a deep blush spreading across her face.

she knew that caleb meant every word he said. he had already been there for her, always looking out for her in a way that no one else ever had. and even through though these silly braces were a new thing, a new part of her… she knew that caleb would be there to help her. no matter what.

“just… don’t make fun of me too much, okay?” she warned.

caleb grinned, triumphant, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “no promises.” 

[redwingstan]

the angel that fell from the sky [joaquin torres x fem!reader insert]

author's note; if you haven't seen cap 4, please go see it. also slight spoilers below!

warnings; none; just fluff. please enjoy!

"'The Angel that fell from the sky.'" "The 'Angel'?"

"That's what they're calling you."

You heard the squeaking of wheels from Joaquin's chair as he pushed himself towards you. He peered over your shoulder, bracing one arm on the desk to get a closer look at your monitor. His breath fanned your cheek as he mumbled aloud the headline of the article you had been reading.

"Sounds a bit dramatic, don't you think?" he asked before pulling away and plopping back into his chair. You looked over your shoulder to catch him wincing as he nursed his broken arm that was still in a sling. "But if it gets me closer to meeting Ant Man, I'll take it."

You stifle a soft laugh before clicking from the article and typing away on the screen you were working on before. "Glad to see the fame hasn't gone to your head."

"If months of physical therapy and being told over and over by you and Sam to 'take it easy' is the price of fame...I don't know know if it's all worth it," he joked with a laugh that made you roll your eyes.

You continued to type away. "Well, sorry that we're worried about you," you said, feeling your cheeks grow warm as you the felt the atmosphere shift a bit. "But to be fair, you did almost die."

"Huh."

Your typing ceased and you looked over your shoulder to find him grinning.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." He was leaning back in his chair, studying with an amused grin. You rolled your eyes again and decided to take him for his word. You faced your monitor and went back to typing.

"It's just that..." You groaned and ceased typing once more, though you didn't dare look over your shoulder as he continued. "I could've sworn you just said you were worried about me." He used his feet to make his chair roll towards you.

Biting the bullet, you looked over shoulder and met him with a harsh stare, though it was accompanied by a subtle smile you couldn't seem to hide this time around. "I said Sam and I."

"Which," he continued on as if presenting his final argument to a grand jury, "implies that you do, in fact, care about me too." He leaned his good elbow on his knee and propped his chin in the center of his palm as he gazed at you, tickled pink by this revelation. "I'm starting to wonder who's head over heels now?"

You laugh a bit, already in the process of turning back to your computer. "So am I."

You had long ago sworn off telling Joaquin your real feelings despite knowing his feelings towards you were mutual. But every time you or Joaquin mustered up the courage to share your true feelings, things went wrong.

The first time it had been a simple miscalculation resulting in minor scrapes and bruises that landed him in the infirmary. This time it was the ICU. You balled up your fists in your lap as you recalled the long wait in the waiting room, the sight of him strung up to wires that monitored his fragile heartbeat; and the black and blue bruises that littered his skin.

You didn't even want to dwell on the possibilities on how much worse things could get. Which is why it was much easier to bottle up your feelings and hope that they would wear off eventually. After all, in your mind at least, it would save you both the emotional damage of losing one another.

Your heart suddenly skipped a couple more beats as Joaquin reached out to stop your chair from turning away from him. You let your feet go slack against the hardwood floor as he used one arm, with little to no effort, to gently tug your rolling chair towards him so you were facing him again. You came to a slow stop as your knees briefly touched. It was during this moment that you felt your brain turn to mush.

"It's me."

You blinked. "What?"

He reached out to touch one of your fists resting on your thigh. Slowly your fingers began to uncurl from your palm.

"I'm...head over heels...for you," he said with nervous laughter.

You laughed too, unsure of what to say. "Did Sam tell you say that?"

He chuckled, his cheeks turning a shade of red you've never seen before. He gave your loose fist a soft squeeze. Eventually, his infectious grin turned into a subtle, nervous smile.

"I want to give us a chance—"

"Joaquin—"

He threaded his fingers in the spaces between yours. You were too distracted by the bundle of nerves in your chest to feel them.

"Y/N, I've kissed death one too many times not to at least let you know how I feel...not that you don't already know." The corners of his lips turned upwards just as yours did.

He was right. It wasn't like you didn't know how he felt about you. Ever since he came wandering into your uncle's gym, he didn't once shy away from letting you know how he felt. Be it a lingering gaze; his signature grin of approval when you successfully hit the punching bag right; or the occasional conglomerate of words that fell out of his mouth that sometimes didn't make much sense—though you always understood what he was trying to say. His feelings for you had always been right there within your reach.

As if reminding you of this, Joaquin squeezed your hand, eyes yearning for a response.

"You know Sam will tease you endlessly when he hears about us," You said, apprehensive of the consequences to come.

Joaquin inched forward, the wheels of his chair scraping the floor. "I think I can handle it. He already does that to me now, I'm used to it."

"Good point," you said with a shrug, your body naturally inclining forward. "But, you'll only hear me complaining twice as much for you to take it easy."

He let go of one of your hands, his bruised fingers reaching forward to stroke your warm cheek. "Child's play, mi amor. I could never get tired of you nagging me."

The beating of your heart grew louder than your thoughts.

"Then there's Captain America..."

"Yeah, yeah. You mentioned Sam, already," he said, his thumb stroking your skin as he leaned forward, your foreheads brushing against each other. He glanced at your lips.

"No, I mean...the other Captain America."

Joaquin paused. "Your uncle?"

You nodded. "You know he still never got over you calling him 'gramps' when you first met."

His shoulders slumped a bit, slight disappointment lacing his features. "But I thought he liked me?"

"I like you." The words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them. His grin returned at this. You squeezed his hand, the one that was still holding your cheek. "But he won't go any easier on you if it's me you're after."

"So I'm up against two Captain Americas?" He whispered, eyes growing wide at this sudden revelation. You laughed and shook your head in amusement.

Before you could respond, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. Just as he pulled away, he managed to murmur, "Game on," before pressing his lips to yours.

[be4chywritez]

had me at hello | oscar piastri

oscar piastri x perez!reader

you bump into Oscar in the paddock and that’s when he fell.

my masterlist!

part ll

request are open!

prompt list!

You wandered through the paddock star-struck with the Formula One atmosphere Checo gave you specific instructions but you tend to veer off your brother's instructions. You've been to races before it's been a while since you've come to one, being busy building your own career, with your family's support you went off to become a world-renowned actress meaning you didn't have time to follow your brother around anymore.

As you pulled out your phone to see where Checo told you to meet him, you were bumped into. Letting out a huff, you turned around to be greeted by a flustered-looking guy. “So sorry, my mate pushed me,” he said, stabilizing you by holding your elbows.

You glanced at his “mate,” Lando, whom you’d seen before. You knew he was friends with Carlos, and Carlos was friends with Checo, so you gave the guy a graceful nod.

Calling out Lando’s name, he blinked in confusion. “Do you know where Carlos is or Checo?” Then it clicked; you were Checo’s sister.

A small smirk makes way on Lando's face, "Y/n this Oscar, Oscar this is Y/n Perez" he says, Oscar blinks his cheeks turn rosey, "Nice to meet you Oscar," you give a smile and Oscar swears he's done for the way that his name rolls off your tongue and oh that smile.

Lando being a great wingman checks his watch, "Oh shoot, I've got something I gotta do, Oscar can you walk her over." he lets out before walking away from you backwards Oscar makes a face at him but you don't get to see it because as soon as you turn to face him he smiles at you.

“Shall we?” he asks you give him a nod, while walking you strike up a conversation

“So why haven’t I seen you at the race so far?” he asks. Oscar usually doesn’t take well to strangers, but he feels like he’s known you for a long time.

“I’ve been busy with my career,” you say, looking at him. He nods. “Oh, you’re a driver?” he asks. You let out a giggle. “No, no, I’m an actress,” you say. Oscar nods, realizing where he recognized you.

“So what about you, Oscar?” There it was again; Oscar would turn into a pile of mush if you kept pushing it. He swallows.

“It’s good, challenging but rewarding,” he says, giving you a smile.

You turn to face Oscar, finally taking in his features. His warm brown eyes hold a gentle spark, the slight flush on his cheeks contrasts endearingly with his clear skin, scattered with a few freckles that you could spend counting all your days.

Your eyes trace the constellation of moles on his face and neck. Each one seems perfectly placed. There’s something intimate about those small marks.

You realize you’ve been staring and quickly look away towards the Redbull garage, too embarrassed to face Oscar after catching yourself. He has a small smirk on his face, his cheeks even rosier if possible.

Checo spots you and Oscar, looking confused as he approaches. “Te he estado buscando por todo el maldito paddock,” he says, glancing at Oscar with confusion.

“I was trying to find you, but I got lost, and Oscar,” you place your arm on his bicep, not noticing how he melts under your touch, “helped me find you.”

Checo looks at Oscar, then at your hand, and finally at you. “Okay, c’mon, Christian is waiting,” he tells you, nodding at Oscar who gives an awkward thumbs-up. You turn to Oscar, saying, “Thank you, Oscar,” with a smile, before walking into the Redbull Garage, or as Lando likes to call it, the “Lions den.”

As Checo walked you through the Red Bull garage, he looked at you and raised a brow. “¿Qué estabas haciendo con él?” he asked, genuinely curious but also protective.

“Nada. I got lost, and he was there to help me,” you said with a small, unwilling smile, thinking about Oscar.

Checo cracked a smile, taking off your Red Bull cap and ruffling your hair. “Te gusta, cabrona,” he joked. You swatted his hand away. “Shut up,” you said, finally reaching Christian, who watched you and your brother fight with a small smile on his face.

“What’s got you all riled up?” Christian asked with a smile.

“Just saw her talking to a McLaren boy,” Checo said. Christian let out a loud laugh. “Was it the new one?” he asked. You nodded shyly. “Well, we can’t have you switching alliances,” Christian teased. You rolled your eyes at his antics. “I’m just gonna go sit,” you said, taking a seat on the back wall and being handed a headset by an engineer, whom you thanked.

While you waited to start your watch, you watched the hustle and bustle of the garage on both Max and Checo’s side. So enthralled by it, you didn’t realize the camera had cut to you.

-

Oscar stood towards the back of the garage with Lando, who was yapping about something. When you appeared on the screen, Oscar completely stopped listening to Lando and watched you. The way you looked so amazed by everything made him want to just sit there and watch you.

Lando brought him out of his daydream. “Osc got a little crush?” he asked jokingly, but Oscar didn’t respond, going back to looking at you. “Oh, he had a big one,” Lando joked before they were called to get suited up.

-

The race was disappointing, to say the least. While you were happy for Max, your heart ached for your older brother. When he got out of the car, he went straight to the garage, and you made a beeline towards him, pulling him into a hug and patting his back. “You’ll bounce back, you always do,” you reassured him. He pulled away, offering a suggestion with a smirk, “Deberías ir a ver la ceremonia del podio. Creo que cierto chico estará allí.”

You rolled your eyes before walking towards the podium ceremony.

Locking eyes with Oscar, you noticed him walking towards you.

“Were you going to the podium too?” he asked. You nodded, and he offered, “Do you want to come with me?”

You gave him a smile, “Yeah.” He then flushed, adding, “You might wanna walk in front of me sometimes; people really like to shove.” Following his advice, while walking, Oscar placed a hand on your lower back. You excused it as a guide to not get lost, but internally, you felt like putty.

Surprisingly, you both made it to the front of the barricade. Oscar still hadn’t removed his hand from your lower back, and you didn’t say anything, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

As the ceremony started, you clapped for all three of the drivers. Lando and Max looked down below, spotting you. You saw Lando point towards the two of you, and then Max laughed.

After the ceremony died down, you and Oscar walked in silence, neither wanting to break the connection between you. Each step felt heavy, as if you were both reluctant to leave each other’s side. Finally, when you reached the Red Bull garage, you turned to face Oscar with a small smile.

“Well, this is me,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. Oscar chuckled softly, but there was a hint of reluctance in his eyes.

As you opened your mouth to say something more, Oscar cut you off gently. “It was really nice meeting you,” he said, his voice tinged with sincerity.

You nodded, a rush of emotions swirling inside you. “It was great meeting you too,” you replied, your heart pounding with anticipation. Gathering your courage, you decided to take a chance. “Maybe we should exchange numbers, just in case I get lost, y’know,” you suggested, a slight heat creeping up your cheeks.

Oscar’s expression softened, and he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, totally,” he said, pulling out his phone and handing it to you. As you exchanged numbers, excitement bubbled in you.

After handing his phone back to him, you couldn’t resist the urge to give him a hug. It was an unexpected gesture, but Oscar embraced you warmly, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

When you pulled away, you met Oscar’s gaze, feeling a sense of connection that was hard to ignore. With a final smile, you said, “Goodnight, Oscar,” before turning to leave. But before you could go, you leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

Oscar’s breath caught in his throat, and he blinked in surprise, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Goodnight,” he murmured softly, his eyes following you as you disappeared into the Red Bull garage.

[tangerineastronaut]

Can we get some fluff jongho takes care of reader on her period plsssss

soft 🐻 c.jongho

Let him take care of you. He insists.💕

Pairing: Jongho x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, Drabble, Texts + Written imagine Requested: Yes w.c. 780 Warnings: period cramps, reader is on her period, medicine (OTC pain meds) A/N: a jongho request? c'mere anon i'm gonna kiss you. I'm sorry this is short and sweet. I'd love more Jongho requests, I don't see enough content for our bear and I'd like to add to what we've got 😩 Anywho this hits home for me bc idk about y'all but my periods are HELL. I could definitely use a jongho 😭 This is my first time adding texts to a story, so I hope it's alright! Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs

Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

You open one eye as someone knocks on your door, though quickly close it again as a swell of pain steals the air from your lungs. Your insides feel like mush, and everything below your belly button aches. 

You feel something soft on your face, and when you open your eyes again, you’re embarrassed and incredibly relieved at the same time to find Jongho running his knuckles down your cheek.

“Jongho?” you ask weakly. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you I was on my way, didn’t you see my last text?” he asks. You realize he’s crouched in front of the couch, where you collapsed an hour ago and haven’t moved since. You shake your head. 

“N-No, ‘m sorry.”

“It’s okay. What do you need?”

“A hysterectomy.”

“Funny. What else do you need? Have you taken anything?”

Jongho clicks his tongue as you shake your head. He leaves for a few moments, so you close your eyes again. But then you’re being urged to sit up, and your face crumples in pain. 

“Here,” he says, sliding onto the sofa beside you. You take the glass of water he’s holding, sipping it down as he drops something in the palm of your hand. Two tylenol; you take them, finishing off the water. 

“Why didn’t you take anything earlier?” he asks, lifting a hand to your cheek. His palm is warm and you lean into it. Your head hurts. Your face hurts. Your back, legs, stomach. All of you hurts. 

“I just kind of curled up to die,” you admit, looking up at him. “Didn’t wanna move.”

Jongho sighs and wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his firm chest. Your arms go around his neck as you bury yourself against him.

He’s soft and warm and smells so good; his cologne isn’t overwhelming, just a note of something that could only be described as “manly.” It's amazing how a person could make you feel safe with just a hug, but that was Jongho.

“What can I do for you, baby?” he asks, brushing hair away from your face. He presses a kiss to your temple, letting his lips rest there. You nuzzle your nose into his shoulder and inhale, making him chuckle.

“Nothing,” you mumble. “Just be here.”

You open your eyes, blinking and rubbing at them. You're a little groggy and confused, but feel something firm and warm behind you. You tilt your head back, and Jongho kisses you below your ear.

"Hi," he hums softly. You groan, feeling a little more human but mostly still mush.

His fingers twitch and your face flushes—his large hand covers the softness of your lower belly, thumb gently brushing your skin. You were holding his wrist, very obviously not wanting him to move even in your sleep.

“What time is it?” you ask. You finally release him and move your hand to your stomach, resting it over his—still hurts, though not nearly as bad as before. Could’ve been the medicine, but you suspected it had to do with a certain someone as well. 

You roll over so that you're facing him, squished together on your small couch. He doesn't seem to mind and wraps his arms securely around you, pulling you snug against his form.

“It’s close to 1 a.m., you haven’t been sleeping very long,” Jongho says, rubbing your arm. “How are you feeling? Need more medicine?”

You shake your head. 

“It’s better now,” you say with a shy smile. Jongho smiles back, so cutely that you have to lean forward and kiss him. You move your hands to either side of his face.

He sighs against your mouth and hugs you tight, pulling back just enough that your noses are still touching. 

“Wanna go to bed?” he asks, stealing another chaste kiss. He moves his hands down to your lower back, fingers firm yet gentle as he massages either side of your spine. You nearly melt with relief, moaning as you tuck yourself against him. 

“No. Don’t wanna move. Feels good,” you mumble. Jongho hums a laugh. You rest for a few seconds until he begins to sit up. You grab his hoodie for purchase until he stands, smoothly lifting you up bridal style and adjusting you in his arms. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and cling to him, pouting at the sudden disruption.

When you open your mouth to protest, he kisses you, using soft lips to steal whatever complaints you may have wanted to file.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your cheek as he speaks. “Let's go to bed."

"Can you hold me?" you ask quietly. Jongho nods.

"Of course, baby. That's why I'm here."

[stargirlrchive]

ROOMMATE!SIMON

cw: simon riley x fem!reader, he’s actually so toxic and manipulative but he’s sexy and has a monster cock like … what am i supposed to do? i’m just a girl! grinding

one - two - three - four

roommate!simon who is consoling you after you had to cancel on your date, sitting you on his lap as he kisses your temple, cooing at you as you frown at him.

“just feel like every time i try to get to know someone, something always stops me or gets in the way.”

and he does feel a bit guilty when he sees you so sad over it, when you begin to express how lonely you are to him, but he reminds himself that he’s doing it for your own good.

his best girl deserves nothing but the best, and he’s the only one who can give that to you. unfortunately for him, you haven’t realized that yet.

his fingers rub down your back as he parts your legs so you can straddle his waist, pressing soft kisses down your jaw as you rant and whine about you how you don’t know what you’re doing wrong.

“they’re just not good enough for you, sweet girl. they wouldn’t treat you right.”

and you blink down at him, your face growing hot as you start to focus on the way he’s touching you and kissing you. his words have so much conviction that you start to believe him.

“then who can?” he can see the way you hesitate before you continue speaking, “you?”

and simon has to focus on anything else because his blood is rushing to his cock as you stare at him hopefully.

he hums, running his kisses down your neck before he nods, “‘course i can. would take such good care of you.”

his thick fingers grip at the soft skin of your hips, spreading his legs under you so your cunt is right against his cock. adjusting his hips so he brushes against you.

a soft whimper leaves your mouth because you feel how big he is, and he smirks against your skin. softly latching his lips against your collarbone to suck.

“want me to prove it to you, hm?”

you’re nodding quickly, shifting your hips so your clit can rub right against him. your mind already turning to mush at the light friction.

his fingers grip at your hips and push you down harder, rolling his hips into you as you whine above him.

simon’s mind is in a haze, body on autopilot before he lays you down against the couch, caging you in.

the way your eyes glaze over and you whimper at the lack of touch from him has his cock aching. and he knows then that he finally has you where he wants you.

“gonna ruin you, baby.”

[sleep-0-deprived]

Could you make a scenario between a yandere bully and a chubby reader saying that they can't sit on his face because he would get crushed?

Yan bully x chubby male reader Drabble~! ૮꒰> ˕ < ྀི꒱ა

Taglist : @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @yyuinaa @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives @littlelilithsposts @gayaristocrat @whatupbishs @dearestlitteleaf @nightshadelover12 @galiadeeznuts @piercing-gaze

A/N: this S’ jus a short lil Drabble, but I hope ya like it though <33

All he could do is sit and blink- I mean how could he not. The words you just said to him sounded so stupid, the way you rambled about not being able to ride his face just as he so wished you to because you were ‘too big’ which you weren’t to him.

That thought left him flabbergasted I mean that’s the point. Your soft thighs and plush ass we’re all things he loved and right now all he wanted was to have his face nuzzled between your cheeks with his tongue pressed to your hole, he’d be damned if he didn’t get it.

“Stop acting like a damn idiot- get over here, you aren’t too fucking big”

He’d hiss his words and grip your hips like a life line pulling you over to him on his bed, trying to get your pants off you and you on top of him. He’d strip you from your underwear and make you spread your thighs wide until he could get beneath you with his hands sliding down to your ass and spreading your cheeks wide apart.

“I’m gonna suffocate you- I don’t wanna hurt you I know I’m big”

“You aren’t gonna hurt me, I’m not that weak I am man enough to handle you”

He took your insecurity and worry for him as a sign you thought he was too weak to have you riding his face- he had a point to prove now. His tongue wasting no time pushing into you and licking at your rim, the muscle twitching at contact. You couldn’t help but just arch your back.

His saliva starts to coat your hole, lapping up and down your crack making you all slick dripping on his face, running down his chin. This man simply cannot help himself with you.

He may not be gentle or the kind caring man that came from fairytales but he would make it clear how obsessed and devoted he was to you- to your body, he wanted to make it all his.

The sensation of your inner walls being stretched starts to fill you, your walls all gummy like trembling and clenching like it was trying to milk a cock, he kept at his pace rubbing circles on your hips groaning on about how you tasted while his nails dug into the fat of your flesh.

He made it known that this was for His pleasure and not yours, your pleasure just happened to come but it wasn’t the purpose. Even when you manage to orgasm he keeps going, he wants to wear you down and out. He will make the thought in your head become mush until the point you can’t question the things he wants to do to you regardless of size.

He was brutal with you, giving your ass a hard slap when your thighs quivered from your orgasm, he wants you to keep moving your hips and riding his face. He’s no where near done with you yet.

“Let’s see how many more you can give me baby, keep going. I didn’t say stop”

[moonstruckme]

hello! im not sure if you've done this before and if you have, i hope its ok to ask for more hehe but can i request rockstar poly marauders w a shy!reader and gets easily flustered when they show affection? thank u sm i really love all your poly marauders drabbles!!

Thank you for requesting angel <33

rockstar!marauders x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

The sound tech at this venue is nice. You liked her first for her pink hair and then for the easy way she motioned you over to help do the boys’ sound checks. You don’t think she needed the help; she only saw you standing off by herself and did a kind thing to make you feel less awkward. 

Now the boys are off in their dressing room, and you’re trailing contentedly behind her while she shows you how she sets up for shows. 

The bustle and ruckus of crews setting up before shows isn’t new to you. You’ve been with the boys since the beginning of their tour, but usually you stay out of the way, blending into walls or taking refuge in your boyfriends’ dressing room while they’re busy. You’ve never really gotten to know the actions the bustle and ruckus constitute. 

“Usually I help with lighting once I’m done with my own stuff,” the sound tech tells you. “It’s all programmed ahead of time, so really I’m just on standby in case something happens. Do the boys have a favorite color if I have to pick something?” 

You gnaw your lip, contemplative. “Sirius would probably like yellow, if you get the chance.” 

Her eyebrows shoot up. You know it’s not in the usual color palette of the boys’ shows. “Really?” 

“No.” You suck in a breath as a pair of arms wraps around your middle, releasing it when you realize it’s Sirius. “Not really. Minx, you know I hate yellow.” He smushes his face into your cheek. “Joke’s on you though, I look good in every color.” 

“Yellow certainly least,” James teases. He steps into your field of vision wearing his concert outfit. Jeans and a tight t-shirt just short enough to tease a sliver of abdomen. Of all the fans who will get to see him looking so handsome tonight, you’re glad you’re one of them. 

“Anyway,” he says, grinning, “we have a very important question for you both. No pressure.” 

“Well, some pressure,” Sirius says. 

You look at your sound tech friend. Like most crew, she’s largely unaffected by the rockstars currently sharing in casual repartee in front of her. Her eyes don’t appear to dip to James’ stomach or trace the myriad of tattoos you know are showing through Sirius’ sheer top. If anything, she looks only faintly amused by the way the band’s lead singer is mushing tiny, soft kisses into the skin by your ear. Your cheeks warm. 

“What’s the question?” you ask, dreading the reply. 

Sirius turns you in his arms, taking you by the shoulders and levelling you with a very serious look. “What is the hottest instrument for someone to play?” 

Your sound tech friend barks a laugh. “Bass,” she says. “No question.” 

James’ eyebrows fly up, his expression one of utter disbelief, but Sirius only says swiftly, “Wrong. You know what it is, don’t you, gorgeous?” 

Your shoulders gravitate upwards at the moniker. “You can’t ask me to pick between you.” 

“Don’t think of it as picking between us,” he says. “Just, which is the hottest? Objectively.” 

“I can’t be objective,” you plead. 

“Does anyone know what time it is? I can’t seem to find a clock in this whole place.” You turn your head as Remus emerges from their dressing room, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Oh.” He blinks when he sees you, waving to dispel the smog. “Sorry, dovey. Where’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been here,” you say, voice softening. Sirius makes a quiet sound and hugs you again. 

“You’re cute,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. Your face flames. 

“It’s quarter ‘til,” the sound tech offers helpfully. 

Remus turns to her with a smile he’ll never understand the power of. “Thank you.” 

“We’re conducting a poll on which instrument is the hottest,” James informs him. He jerks his thumb toward the sound tech. “She says bass.” 

Remus’ grin turns smug. “Quite right. What’s your pick, dove?” 

You’re mute and melting, hot enough by now that you wish you could evaporate into steam and float away through the vents. 

“She won’t say,” Sirius sighs dramatically, breath warm against your cheek. 

“Oh.” Remus seems to wisen to your plight. “It’s not really playing fair, is it? She can hardly be objective.” 

“Right,” you agree quickly. 

“But angel,” says James, bewildered, “guitar is classic.” 

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair,” Sirius argues. “For anyone to say anything other than the front man! We’re chosen for our hotness!” 

“Well, that’s not strictly true, is it?” 

“Yeah?” Sirius has that shit-eating grin, like he’s winding James up in anticipation of hauling him into a broom closet. You’re only glad it’s not directed at you. “You got something to say, Potter?”

“Sorry,” Remus apologizes to your sound tech friend on their behalf, touching a hand to Sirius’ back to guide you both towards the dressing room. James follows. 

“You’re good,” she laughs. “Nice to meet you, y/n.” 

“You too,” you say, cringing at the unintentional softness of your own voice. 

“Who was that?” Sirius asks as James closes the door to their dressing room behind you. “Have you made a new friend?” 

You groan, flopping down onto the posh-looking, uncomfortable couch and covering your face with your hands. “I was trying to.” 

“It looked like it was going well,” James says. “Maybe you can hang out with her again while we’re onstage.” 

“I can’t now,” you mumble between your palms. 

“Why not?” 

“Because,” says Remus, as he sits beside your head and begins smoothing your baby hairs with his fingers, “we’ve embarrassed her.” You let your hands slip down enough to see him, and he smiles at you. “I don’t think she’ll hold it against you, dovey. She seemed nice.” 

“You would think so.” Sirius plucks the cigarette from between Remus’ fingers, taking a drag before it can burn out. “She picked your instrument.” 

Remus shrugs, smug again. “That helps.” 

Sirius squints at him spitefully. He sits next to your knees where they’re flung over the arm of the couch. “Don’t let us spoil your new friend for you,” he says, sincerely. “She loves you already, I can tell. You’re perfect.” 

“You’re biased,” you counter, face heating again. 

Sirius grins like he can tell and reaches down to tug you upwards. He grasps you with a roughness for which he has no follow through, kissing you sweetly with his fingers bunched in your jacket.

“Wrong,” he says, lips moving against yours. “I know how to be objective.”

[studioeisa]

hey! i was wondering whether u could write one for this

https://www.tumblr.com/svtsofthours/768410973781524480/mingyu-zoned-out-you-leans-in-and-kisses-him?source=share

just like do not disturb.. 💕 (loved it btw)

💋 none the wiser (mingyu x reader)

★ footnotes: major shoutout to @svtsofthours for being so chill about me using their posts as prompts lol! mingyu soft hours are perpetually open, i fear. listened to kiss me by sixpence none the richer the entire time. word count: 830~

It's a Wednesday, and the only thing on Mingyu's mind is where the two of you should go this evening.

Very rarely does he have a day off like this. He can count on one hand the amount of times that practice has been canceled, that a schedule has been postponed. As it is, the stars have aligned to give him this free afternoon.

And who else would he want to spend it with but you?

The sudden freedom has thrown him off-kilter, though, leaving him fumbling for plans. Mingyu reveled in being the date-planner. In getting to smirkingly tell you I got this, baby every time the two of you were supposed to head out.

He's never learned to work with spontaneity, and so he spends half of his time agonizing.

The two of you are lounging in your apartment as Mingyu swears to figure it out. You're sprawled out on the couch, doing one thing or the other, while your legs rest in Mingyu's lap. He's absentmindedly rubbing your ankles with one hand while the other clutches his phone, scrolling through Klook articles of last-minute date ideas.

"Is it cold enough to go ice skating?" he mumbles, his eyebrows drawn together with laser-sharp focus. It's a rhetorical question, really, because before you can answer, he's already grumbling, "No, no, you're too clumsy for that."

"Hey," you protest.

Mingyu gives your ankle an affectionate pat, but keeps on reading.

There's so many things to do. And so little time. When tomorrow comes, he'll be swept back into his busy day-to-day. The two of you might not see each other for another week or so, and the mere thought of it already has his fingers tightening ever so slightly around you.

Mingyu has never particularly thought himself to be a selfish person. He shares almost everything with his members; he'll give what he can to his fans.

You make him greedy. For affection, for attention, for time.

"I can try to get us a reservation at Via Toledo," he muses.

"Too expensive," you whine.

"If it's for you? Never."

"Mingyu."

"Fine, fine."

He scrolls some more. Clicks on to an entirely different article altogether. He doesn't know why he's stressing over this so badly. He knows you, knows you'll be happy with whatever reasonable thing he offers.

He just can't help it. He wants so, so badly to be good for you, to be good to you.

"How about Lotte World?" he tries.

You look up from your own phone with a considering expression, though it's a bit more on the wary side. "Won't there be too many people?" you ask, ever the careful one.

"I can just rent it out for—"

"Baby!"

"Alriiiight."

Mingyu's pouting now, but you're immune to his little displays of petulance and his attempts at grand gestures. You go back to whatever you were reading with a bemused shake of your head.

He tries to focus on the nth Top Seoul Date Places blog post, but his mind has practically turned to mush at this point. He doesn't realize that his eyes are unfocused or that he's barely registering the words on his phone. His head has quite literally emptied out, all of his ideas making no sense. All Mingyu really wants is—

Oh.

He hadn't even noticed you shifting, hadn't picked up on you leaning forward. When your lips press a gentle, sweet kiss to his forehead, he's dragged back down to earth.

Mingyu blinks once, then twice. He looks to you, starry-eyed and smitten.

"What was that for?" he asks, sounding far too dazed for someone who has already received dozens, hundreds of your kisses.

"No reason," you answer. Your rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We don't have to go anywhere, you know."

"We don't?"

"We don't."

"But—"

His protest is cut off by you darting forward to leave another kiss, this time on the corner of his mouth.

"This is enough," you tell him, and the sincerity in your tone is enough to leave him breathless.

And that was it, wasn't it? Mingyu had agonized, Mingyu had zoned out, Mingyu had fallen into near-panic, even, because he had wanted to make himself worth your time. He had wanted to give you the world. Something, anything to show you just how much he adored you.

But he supposes you're right.

"This is enough," he echoes quietly.

You get up from the couch to grab your laptop, announcing that the two of you are going to have a movie marathon. To give Mingyu something to do, you assign him the all-important task of ordering takeout. He rolls his eyes playfully but does as you ask, because you're the light of his life and he will order you the pizza you want if it's the last thing he does.

It's a Wednesday. Mingyu loves you, still.

svtsofthours post ->

Mingyu: [zoned out] You: [leans in and kisses him on the forehead] Mingyu: [blinks and smiles at you with stars in his eyes]

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

𑄻 tws : fem!mydei x bunny fem!reader. scissoring, dumbfication, clit grinding, bimbofication, slight over simulation, mild-melting pleasure, messy s*x, mommy kink, breeding talk (light) & praise.

“My poor dumb bunny,” Mydei purrs, her hands gripping your plush thighs as she presses her dripping pussy against yours. “Already shaking, and I’ve barely touched you.”

Your fluffy ears twitch, and a whimper escapes your glossy lips, your mind already hazy from the overwhelming heat between your legs. “‘S—feels s’good, Mydei,” you babble, hips rolling up desperately to meet hers, your little cotton tail twitching with every needy grind.

She smirks, amused by how easily you fall apart. “Of course it does, princess. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

The slick slide of her pussy against yours is intoxicating, clits rubbing together in slow, deliberate strokes that have you arching off the sheets. Your juices mix, dripping down your thighs as she picks up the pace, her toned body working against yours with ease.

“A-ah—ahh! Mommy—” Your voice comes out high and breathy, fingers gripping onto her arms for support as your mind turns into mush. The friction against your swollen clit is too much, too good, making your entire body tremble.

Mydei watches you with dark amusement, her movements turning rougher as she pins you down, her grip firm on your hips. “C’mon, my pretty little bunny,” she coaxes, voice husky. “Let me see you make a mess.”

A sudden roll of her hips has your back arching, eyes rolling back as the pressure bursts inside you. A broken cry leaves your lips as your cunt gushes, squirting all over Mydei’s thighs.

She laughs, wicked and pleased, dragging her soaked pussy against yours, making you jolt from the overstimulation. “That’s my good girl,” she murmurs, licking her lips as she watches your fluffy ears droop, your body twitching beneath her. “So cute when you lose yourself like this.”

But from the way she’s still grinding against you, her eyes full of hunger, it’s clear she’s nowhere near done with you yet.

“My poor dumb thing,” Mydei coos, her voice thick with amusement as she towers over you, toned thighs caging you in. Her hands squeeze at the plush of your hips before trailing up to grab a fistful of your soft, fluffy ears, tugging them just enough to make you whimper. “Already fucked stupid, and I haven’t even done anything yet.”

You blink up at her, teary and dazed, your breath coming out in soft little pants. Your body feels hot—too hot—and the slick, sticky mess between your thighs only grows worse as Mydei spreads your legs wider, pressing her soaked cunt flush against yours.

“Mommy—” Your voice is high and airy, mind already floating away as your fluffy tail twitches, pressing into the sheets beneath you. “W-wan’ you, need you so bad, ‘s too much—”

She laughs, rolling her hips forward, making sure her clit drags against yours in slow, teasing strokes. The pressure is enough to make you jolt, back arching as your hands grip at the sheets, thighs shaking from the overwhelming sensation.

“Too much?” she mocks, tilting her head as she watches your face twist in pleasure. “Or not enough?”

Then she grinds down harder, the wet, obscene sounds of your pussies meeting filling the room, your juices mixing into a messy, dripping puddle beneath you. Mydei keeps her pace slow at first, dragging the pleasure out, her sharp eyes drinking in every little tremble, every hiccupped moan that slips past your parted lips.

“My dumb little thing,” she murmurs, her grip on your ears tightening before she leans down, nipping at your throat. “Can’t even think, can you? Just laying there and taking it like a stupid girl.”

Your mind barely registers her words, everything going fuzzy as her clit keeps rubbing against yours, the swollen little nub throbbing from the stimulation. The heat between your legs grows unbearable, your pussy fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled.

“Say it,” Mydei orders, her voice dripping with dominance. “Tell me what you are.”

A choked sob escapes your throat, your head rolling to the side as drool pools at the corner of your mouth. “‘M dumb,” you whimper, your hips jerking up to meet hers in desperate little bounces. “Jus’ a dumb—ngh—dumb thing f’you.”

“Good girl.”

She speeds up, rolling her hips with practiced precision, her clit grinding against yours just right, pulling the sweetest sounds from your lips. Your cunt is gushing, slick pouring out of you in messy, wet strings that make it easier for her to fuck against you.

“Bet you’d let anyone use you like this, huh?” Mydei sneers, but her grip on your hips is possessive, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. “But you’re mine. My dumb little thing to ruin.”

Your eyes roll back, and then it happens—your back arches, thighs trembling violently as your pussy gushes, squirting all over Mydei’s toned stomach and thighs. The pleasure rips through you so hard you go completely limp, your ears drooping as your tail twitches.

But Mydei doesn’t stop.

Your pussy is still spasming, still pulsing with oversensitivity, but she keeps grinding against you, her clit throbbing as she chases her own high.

“You can take it,” she murmurs, licking her lips as she watches you writhe. “Just lay there and be good for me, princess.”

Your body jerks, overstimulated, tears leaking from your dazed eyes as Mydei’s movements grow erratic. A few more grinds, a sharp gasp, and then she’s cumming—her toned stomach tightening as her pussy gushes, mixing with the mess you already made beneath her.

She collapses forward, her weight pressing into you as she catches her breath, her fingers stroking along your fluffy ears as if to soothe you. You’re still twitching, still too dumb to speak, only soft whimpers leaving your lips.

A smirk curls on Mydei’s face as she presses a slow, lazy kiss to your neck. “You’re mine, princess,” she murmurs, possessiveness lacing every word. “I think I’ll keep you.”

And from the way her fingers start tracing down between your thighs again, it’s clear she isn’t done with you just yet.

Mydei’s fingers trail lazily between your trembling thighs, dipping into the slick mess pooling beneath you. She hums, swirling the wetness around before pressing her fingers against your swollen, overstimulated clit, making your whole body jolt.

“Still twitching, huh?” she coos, watching as your plush thighs try to squeeze shut. “That’s cute, princess. You think we’re done?”

You let out a broken whimper, tears slipping down your cheeks, your fluffy ears drooping as your body trembles under her. “C-can’t—too much—”

Mydei clicks her tongue, pressing her fingers down harder, rubbing slow, lazy circles over your aching clit. “Shh, you can take it,” she murmurs, her other hand sliding down to grope at your lower stomach. “Bet I could fuck you full, ruin you, and you’d still be begging for more.”

Her voice lowers, turning huskier as she presses down where your womb would be, making your sensitive pussy flutter. “Bet if I bred you, stuffed you so full you couldn’t even think, you’d love it. Wouldn’t you?”

Your mind barely processes the words, too foggy, too dumb to do anything but whine, hips jerking up into her touch.

“Yeah,” Mydei chuckles, watching the way your tail twitches, the way your slick just keeps dripping out of you. “Yeah that’ll be hot.”

Your breath hitches, lips wobbling as your body melts further into the sheets, your cunt pulsing desperately at her words. Mydei smirks, leaning down to bite at your ear, tugging on it just enough to make you gasp.

“Maybe I should just keep you like this,” she murmurs, her fingers slipping lower, teasing at your entrance. “Keep you dumb and fucked-out all the time, so you never have to think about anything else.”

She slides two fingers inside with ease, your pussy clamping down immediately, sucking her in with wet, obscene noises. You’re so tight, so warm, so utterly ruined from her touch that she groans, curling her fingers just right to make you cry out.

“There we go,” she purrs, her other hand gripping your hip as she starts fucking her fingers into you. “That’s it, bunny. Make a mess for me again.”

Your body obeys before your brain can even catch up, the pressure building too fast, too much. Your stomach clenches, your back arching, and then—

You break.

Your cunt gushes around her fingers, soaking her hand, your body jerking uncontrollably as the pleasure rips through you. Your ears twitch wildly, your tail curling tight as another choked sob leaves your lips.

Mydei lets out a sharp breath, watching you convulse beneath her, completely wrecked, completely hers.

She pulls her fingers out slowly, watching as your pussy clenches around nothing, still twitching, still leaking. She smirks, bringing her soaked fingers to your lips, tapping them against your tongue until you obediently open up.

“Good girl,” she murmurs as you suck her fingers clean, your glassy eyes barely able to focus on her. She ruffled your hair and pressed a wet kiss on your cheek.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[fluoneia]

sypnosis. when you were born, your found!mother lest took you in when she saw you had similar differences that she had. years later, you found yourself joining the fireflies, and a certain someone took interest to you. ekko x reader

when you first joined the fireflies, you were somewhat of an outcast. scar took a liking to you, as you both had ears, but that was about it. you weren’t all that strong, you didn’t contribute much as you had nothing to contribute.

but, the kids took a liking to you. you were amazing in their eyes, just like their new idol, you had ears that perked up on your head.

but, the only one that ever stuck out to you was their infamous leader, ekko. and he took a liking to you, too.

ekko was the one to find you after you ran away from when you found out lest was working with shimmer. sometimes, you missed her. but, your life at the firelights was great.

ekko asked you to take on a role as somewhat of a caretaker for the kids. you accepted without a doubt, wanting to help in any way you could.

two months in, ekko started visiting you during your breaks more often that what firelights leader should deem fit. but, you didn’t mind. you liked his company.

today was like no other.

you were looking through the drawings the kids made you with a smile, taking a sip of your water.

then, you heard a knock on the door. you feel a rush of excitement when you realize it’s probably ekko.

“come in.” you smile, setting the drawing down.

ekko opens the door to your designated break room, saunting over to you.

“hey.” he would say in a greeting, sitting on the desk and looking down at the drawings. you smile in a gesture of greeting, sitting back in your chair. “it.. it looks like the kids really like you.”

“what can i say?” you shrug. “i guess i’m really likeable.”

ekko snorts. he picks up a drawing, peering it over. it was a drawing of two of the kids, with ekko and i beside them. ekko places it down after a second, before picking up one of the peaches on the desk and taking a bite of it.

“so you’re settling in here, well?” ekko glances toward you, wiping the juices off his lip. your eyes fixate on his lips, so soft, so full. you shake your head as you look away.

“yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up. “everyone here is amazing. i never thought that they’d be so.. so welcoming to my kind.”

ekko shrugs. “i made this place to be a safe haven. people from all over, piltover, zaun, everywhere come here. we see people with wings, with scales.. some cute little ears won’t turn peoples heads here anymore.”

ekko moves to graze a hand over your ears, but you flinch away. ekko recoils his hand.

“i’ve noticed..” ekko starts. “you never let anyone near your ears. not even the kids.”

you feel a blush creep over your face, and you lick your lips.

“why?” ekko asks softly. it doesn’t feel like he’s interrogating you, just curiosity in his tone.

“well, they..” you bite your tongue. you graze your finger over the back of your ear. your own touch never did the same as how others did. “they’re kind of sensitive.” you mutter under your breath.

ekko narrows his eyes. tilts his head. “what’d you say?” he leans closer, trying to hear you better.

you huff. “they’re sensitive. that’s why i don’t let people touch them.”

“oh.” ekko blinks as he thought. “sensitive.. how?”

“well, they..” you frown as you think. “it’s hard to explain.” you shake your head. “it’s like.. like this chilling feeling. i don’t know. it’s just not pleasant.”

actually, it was anything but unpleasant. you didn’t trust anyone enough to touch your ears, because one time one of your friends touched them, and you damn purred as the searing feeling went down your spine.

you didn’t want anyone to know how touching your ears made you feel. so, you often made it sound like it was almost painful to steer people away from the subject.

“i only really let people i trust go near them.” you say.

you didn’t want to say because touching them makes you go to damn mush.

“people you trust, huh?” ekko smiles as he takes another bite of the peach. he opens his mouth, yet bites his tongue. “would you.. would you ever trust me?”

you glance up at him. peer over his face. his eyes hold such curiosity as they glue onto your ears, that twitch under his gaze.

“i— i dunno. maybe? i mean..”

you find yourself lost in his eyes, so drowning, so full of light. you swallow the lump in your throat at your unspoken words.

then, ekko closes his eyes and looks away. “just curious.” he shrugged, standing. “i’ll leave you to your break.”

you bite your tongue as he walks toward the door.

“see ya, kitty.” ekko waves a hand in goodbye, before closing the door behind him.

you let out a frustrated huff at yourself. i mean, you’ve thought about letting him touch your ears before. just to remember what it was like.. yeah. totally. that was all it was.

you frown as you lean back in your chair.

later that night at dinner, you watch in awe as ekko gives a speech about a recent successful mission.

you glance back down at your food as cheers erupt in the dining hall. you smile, placing a cut up peach in your mouth.

after, you left the hall in silence. you found yourself at one of the spots you often found peace in after long days. the firelights swarm around you, and you let one land on your finger.

a smile stretches on your face when it flies away, when the breeze flows through your hair, your fur.

“thought i’d find you here.”

you jump as you hear ekko’s voice, placing a hand over your heart.

“a little warning next time would be nice.” youd mutter, watching as the firefly’s around you spooked and flew away.

ekko snorts, sitting beside you. you try to ignore the warmth that spread through your shoulder as his rests against yours, the nerves spiking high.

you lean into his touch.

“about earlier.” ekko huffs. “i didn’t mean it to make you.. uncomfortable. i mean, i don’t know what it’s like.” ekko shrugs.

“no, no.” you shake your head. “i was.. i thought about what you said.” you inhaled. you glance over to him, and he’s already looking at you. “if you’re curious, there’s no harm. so.. just once.”

ekko is quiet for a second.

“are you sure?” he says.

“don’t make it a big thing.” you shake your head. you give him a soft smile. you lean your head toward him, ear twitching against his skin.

without a work, he leaned up and gently dragged his finger over your ear. his thumb brushed against the skin inside of your ear.

“woah.” he whispered, brushing the fur down.

you gnaw at your lip, but you can’t help the purrs that vibrate inside of your chest. you lean into his touch, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

“they’re so.. soft.”

ekko’s finger moves to your other ear, scratching at where your ear started. you hide your face in your hands as you feel the warmth spread against your cheeks.

and for the first time, you didn’t want to recoil away from someone’s touch against your ears. it didn’t feel foreign, nor awkward. it just felt.. right. calming, soothing.

you force yourself away before you let yourself go any further.

“oh— sorry, was that..?” ekko retracted his hand.

you shy your gaze away, butterflies and feelings kicking in your stomach.

“sorry—“ you whispered, running a hand over your hot face as you try to regain back your reality. “no, no, sorry, i just—“

“don’t apologize. i won’t push it.” ekko let’s his hand drop against your shoulder. you lean into the warm touch, finally feeling the fog in your head fade away.

you give him a reassuring smile.

“so, was it everything you ever imagined?” you tease, pushing your elbow against his side.

ekko snorted. “kind of was. knew they’d be soft.” he grins a teasing smile.

you laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder again.

maybe people touching your ears wasn’t so bad. so long as it was ekko.

a/n. for @b5withextrachicken :’)) more info on my taglist here

[imnotshua]

who's your worm guy? - wjh | part 1 of 2

٠࣪⭑ pairing: wen junhui x fem reader ٠࣪⭑ summary: your final project is due far too soon and you’re stumped for ideas. that is until you pick up a part time job in the ticket booth at your local water park and you meet the most– uh– interesting employees. this includes a wen junhui, food and beverage supervisor, whose creativity sparks most when he’s hazy and slacking off. ٠࣪⭑ genre: coworkers au. smut (eventual), fluff, crack ٠࣪⭑ rating: explicit. minors do not interact, i'll block you. ٠࣪⭑ warnings: stoner junhui, drinking, swearing, possible violations of health and safety regulations ٠࣪⭑ smut contents: catch 'em at it in part 2 (posting asap) if you think i've forgotten anything please let me know so i can fix my post! ٠࣪⭑ wc: 11.3k ٠࣪⭑ a/n: thank u to my loves @100vern and @starlightkyeom who always chat with me about my silly little guys and read my shit before u see it. and thank you again to jewel who made the banner! ily both always ٠࣪⭑ written for: the carat bay collab, hosted by @camandemstudios! thank you both for letting me join in! please look out for the rest of the fics 💕

edit to add: my italics have disappeared after posting?? but it’s 1:40am so i’ll fix that tomorrow night because i’m picking up my puppy tomorrow morning 😭

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · You’re going to kill Mingyu for dropping you off a whole hour early.

“I’m going to kill Mingyu,” you complain.

“It’s not his fault he has a meeting,” murmurs Soonyoung, trying not to yawn.

“You should drive us,” you say.

“Pay for my car to be fixed and I’ll think about it.”

Soonyoung said he’d introduce you to everyone this morning, but apparently you two are the first staff on site today, save for the one elderly security guy who grumbled about unlocking the gates for you on arrival, so now it’s your job to take over the staff sign-ins. Soonyoung is sitting on your desk, legs swinging below him, and grumbling about not having had time for breakfast.

“I’m gonna waste away,” he whines. “Can I have some of your banana?”

You shovel the remaining half in your mouth and Soonyoung scowls. “Sowee.”

“Dickhead.”

You grin around the banana mush and Soonyoung pushes himself off the desk.

“I’m gonna raid the snackbar– oh no, do not look at me like that. You’re not getting a thing.”

You swallow thickly, it makes a gross sound. “We get to raid the snackbar? There’s a snackbar?”

“Are you an idiot? Of course there’s a snackbar. And officially, no we don’t get to raid it, but unofficially Junhui doesn’t care.”

“What do they have?“

“Snackbar stuff, I don’t know.” Soonyoung shrugs. “Leave me alone now, I’m leaving.”

You grab at him. “Please please please can I have something bready. I need carbs or I’ll die. I need coffee. Please Soonyoung, please.”

“Ew oh my God, get off me, freak.”

Thirty minutes later, he still isn’t back, and you’ve got your head in your arms on your desk. You’re famished. You’re wasting away. You’re–

“Hi.”

You lift your head to see there’s a blonde man outside your booth. You’re stunned, is what you are. He’s maybe the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. You blink, still sleepy, and say, “Sorry, we’re not open yet.”

He blinks comically slow. “Uh– no. I work here.”

He points to the little visor with Carat Bay’s logo printed on the front, perched atop his head. Red and white. Makes him look like a Pokemon trainer.

“Oh. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jun– Junhui.” He goes to shake your hand but stops when he seemingly remembers there’s a pane of glass separating you. Oh my God, he’s cute.

You make your eyes go big. “No fucking way, dude,” you exclaim. “That’s my name too.”

You have no words to describe his expression, but you have to work hard to keep your face straight.

“Really?”

“Really. You wanna see my birth certificate?”

His eyes narrow. “Your name isn’t Jun.”

“No, it’s Jun Junhui.” The corners of your lips twitch.

“Are you new?”

“Yup,” you say. “Started yesterday.”

It’s April, and the water park adjoining the area’s most popular resort is just opening up again for the season. The only reason you got this job is because you were bullied into it by your roommates, Soonyoung and Minghyu, who would really really like it if you didn’t go into debt this time to make your share of the rent (they never listen when you tell them that’s what your student loan is there for) and both of whom have been working here for years.

Your place is supposed to be (strictly) a student let, but Soonyoung dropped out within the first two months of university, and has since worked two jobs most of the year, and somehow fits in a lifeguarding position at Carat Bay April through October. Mingyu worked the hotel reception for a while, graduated two years ago, and now he works as the resorts’ LFTS Coordinator. Whatever that means. He’s well paid and could move into somewhere much nicer, but he says he likes the company (for some reason) and he’s saving to buy a house in a nicer part of the city, so he’ll stay so long as your landlord keeps avoiding all contact. Anyway, what’s crucial here is that they’ve forgotten what it’s like to live as a poverty stricken film student. (You’re fine, just a little broke.)

The turn of winter into spring has been marred by your lack of 1) funds, 2) social life, and 3) inspiration. You’ve got a few months before your final project is due but it’s supposed to be half done by now, and you’re struggling to find a drop of creativity. Your last attempt fell through as you were two thirds into filming thanks to your useless fuck of a partner, and you spent weeks trying to work through it by yourself before giving up entirely. There were too many plates for one person to keep spinning. Your notebooks are a mess of scratched out ideas and fragmented thoughts. It doesn’t need to be long– in fact, shorter is probably better. Quality over quantity and all that. You thumb through Mingyu’s books, love letters your grandparents wrote, Soonyoung’s softcore porn collection (why does he have them in magazine format anyway? Is he from the 80s?) and the old photographs tucked away in your parents garage for inspiration– but it doesn’t come. You had wanted something romantic, something sweet and full of feeling, but everything came to a standstill. Maybe you’re just bitter that you’ve been left to pick up the pieces of a failed start.

Maybe you’re bitter about Jiho. It was fun while it lasted, but he is precisely the reason you had your preference for crushes over relationships in the first place. It’s not your fault he slipped in during the night. It’s not that your feelings are hurt, per se. It’s more that the chance for something real wasn’t there for the taking like you’d come to think. It’s more that you’d rather have just kept it light like always, and he didn’t, and then you didn’t, and the safety net wasn’t there when you needed it. It’s something of a relief that he got himself kicked off the course when he did. You haven’t spoken since.

Back to the point– item 1 is how you end up working (just part time, you’re not as ambitious (read: insane) as your roommates) in the ticket booth at Carat Bay. You didn’t get to meet many of your coworkers yesterday, since the morning was eaten up by induction (not much to induct, you think, since all there is to do is take the money, push a few buttons, give customers their wristbands, and make sure to upsell the goggles.) and lunch was taken in a break room that was completely empty, save for a few harvest spiders and one dead wasp.

You learned quickly (from Joshua, the other ticket staff who sits across the entryway) that the shifts are long and boring, since you’ll be sitting in a single occupancy booth for four to eight hours. Apparently it’s a rush of people at opening, having barely-there interactions with most of the patrons, and they come in dribs and drabs throughout the day. Occasionally a lost kid will wander over, and you’ll get to make a call for their adult over the tannoy. Before you knew it, Mingyu was scolding Soonyoung for leaving handprints and kiss marks on your window (someone has to clean that, Soonyoung!), and it was time to go home.

“What’s your real name?” says Jun Not Junhui, leaning in through your open window to look for the name badge that you’ve forgotten to put on. He smells like your type- good weed and expensive soap.

You tell him the truth this time, since he’ll find out soon enough anyway, and he repeats it for confirmation. Twice. You roll your lips between your teeth in effort not to laugh.

“Soonyoung’s talked about you a lot,” he says, looking you over. “You don’t seem evil.”

“You should’ve seen me an hour ago,” you grin. “You run the snackbar?”

Jun blinks, surprised. “Food and Beverage Manager. Did I say that already? I didn’t feel my mouth move.”

“No,” you say. “Soonyoung mentioned you. He’s gone to the snack bar to get us breakfast.”

His eyes blow wide. Panicked, he says, “Kwon Soonyoung is in my kitchen?”

“Uh–”

“He’s using my kitchen?”

“Um–”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“Why would I say that?”

He doesn’t reply. He takes off sprinting into the park, yelling Soonyoung’s name, and as he disappears around the corner of the locker rooms, you remember that you’re supposed to check everyones’ staff ID cards. Oops.

Soonyoung walks back over a minute later, one to-go coffee stacked precariously on top of the other, and a couple of paper bags clutched in his other hand.

“I just met Jun,” you say, taking the balanced cup from him as soon as he gets to your booth. You take a sip– it tastes burned, but it’s caffeine. Anything will do.

“Yeah, I figured. I heard him screaming like a banshee and had to hide in the log flume so he didn’t see me,” he grumbles. He tosses a paper bag at you. Inside is an egg and cheese bagel. “My ass is wet.”

“You’re a lifeguard in a water park. You’re wearing board shorts. Isn’t getting wet part of the job description?”

“Not before nine AM.”

“Thought you said he didn’t mind people raiding the kitchen?” You take a bite of your bagel. It’s– uh. It’s edible.

Soonyoung smiles mischievously. “Well yeah, so long as he’s there to supervise. He doesn’t like anyone touching his precious fridge magnets.”

“He didn’t seem like a manager.”

“He’s full of surprises, that one.”

You’re interrupted by the sound of slammed car doors and a rev of the engine as it pulls away, and a moment later, in trudge a bunch of guys in a uniform similar to Soonyoung’s. White polo shirt, pink board shorts, comically small pink visor. You want one too, why haven’t you got a visor? Soonyoung wears a white shirt too, but his has ‘LIFEGUARD’ emboldened on both sides in red. You just get the white polo, three sizes too large because it was either this or one that was clearly from unsold children’s merch stock. Nothing cute in pink, or blue like Joshua.

“Who are they?”

Soonyoung points them out left to right. “Chan, mat racing. Minghao, kiddie slide. Vernon, wave pool. Seungcheol, hot springs.” You’ve heard a lot about these guys at home.

When they get to your booth and Soonyoung starts introductions, Chan hangs back a little.

“Oh my God,” he says, wide eyed. “A woman.”

You stare at him.

“Sorry about him.” Minghao grimaces as he presses his ID against your window. “He didn’t mean that in a weird way.”

“Is there a not-weird way?” you ask, tapping his name on the ipad to mark him signed in.

“There hasn’t been a woman hire in like, eight years,” explains Seungcheol, showing his ID too. “There was a little scandal with the HR guy last season. Turns out he ran some incel subreddit and it bled into his hiring practice.”

There’s a long pause while you wait for someone– anyone– to laugh. No one does.

“You’re joking?”

“He’s been sacked. Don’t worry.”

You rag a hand over your face. “You’re telling me I’m the only woman who’s worked here in nearly a decade?”

The four men stare at you. If this were a sitcom you’d be hearing crickets.

You turn on Soonyoung, who’s trying to escape out of your booth unnoticed. Too slow.

“AH! Let go!”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that, Soonyoung?” You tighten your grip on his hair. He yelps. “Doesn’t that seem like crucial information your best friend should know before taking a job here? It does, doesn’t it?”

“I forgot, you psychopath! Best friends don’t hurt each other!”

You twist and Soonyoung falls into a squat in an effort to break free, smacking at your hand. “Men best friends tell their women best friends when they’re stepping into a testosterone fuelled snake pit.”

“Little harsh,” whistles Minghao. “The snakes are standing right here.”

“There was that one woman,” says Vernon, tongue pushed into the fat of his cheek, eyes up in thought. “The elderly one. What was her name? Jun’s cook from a few years ago?”

“The one he killed?” asks Chan.

“What?” you sputter, releasing Soonyoung, who falls backwards out the door.

“He didn’t kill her,” insists Minghao.

“She’s not even dead,” says Vernon, brow furrowed. “Jun visited her two weeks ago.”

“She had a stroke, didn’t she?” questions Seungcheol.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “It was never proven that it was Jun’s fault though.”

Is everyone working here insane?

You can hear flip flops smacking the pavement and you turn to look– Soonyoung is running away. Fearing premature hair loss, probably. You and the guys watch him go.

“He’ll suffer later,” you reassure yourself.

“So– uh– you live with Soonyoung?” asks Seungcheol. “And the events guy?”

“Events guy?”

“Mingyu,” confirms Vernon.

Events– is that what Mingyu does? What the fuck does FSHL stand for then?

“That’s me.”

“We’re not all incels,” says Chan. “We only had one.”

Everyone turns to look at him. Minghao’s mouth is hanging open and Vernon is wide eyed and tight-lipped, trying not to laugh.

“Okaaay?”

“Well. Only one that we know of,” he blurts. “Although–”

He’s cut off as Minghao elbows him hard in the ribs.

“We’ll be seeing you then!” Seungcheol smiles. “What time is your lunch?”

“Twelve–thirty.”

“Same as me,” Vernon pipes up. “Wanna meet some of us at Sharkbait?”

“Where?”

“Jun’s place–” Vernon taps the spot on the map taped to your window. “Next to the log flume. It’s where we all take our breaks.”

Explains the empty break room. You’re not sure how safe you’ll be in Jun Not Junhui’s territory, given recent revelations, but you’re curious.

“Sure, see you then.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sharkbait is pretty small. The exterior is pastel blue, serves what can only be described as beige food, and there’s a huge plastic shark in sunglasses and bermuda shorts riding a surfboard attached to the roof. It’s nestled amongst a bunch of other themed eateries, and the tables on the veranda outside are spilling over with people. There’s a long line of people queuing, and one bored teenager behind the counter on the left. Soonyoung is at the other end of the bar, pouring himself a drink and chewing on a peperami. He waves you over when he spots you.

“Hey,” he says, as you reach the bar. “We’re friends right?”

“I guess,” you say, shrugging. It’s been eight years, you’re stuck like glue. “Why?”

“Will you settle something for us?”

“Us?” you ask, peering over the counter, because save for the kid working the till, he’s the only one there.

Soonyoung ignores your question. “Is a waffle just a grilled pancake?”

“What?” you say, leaning on the counter and unboxing your sandwich. It’s gone all soggy and gross next to your salad.

Vernon pops his head through a hatch behind Soonyoung. He’s eating a hard-boiled egg.

“Pancakes are waffles– same ingredients, same thing, right?” says Vernon.

Your eyebrows furrow. “By that logic ice cream is just frozen flavoured butter.”

“Yeah!” shouts Vernon, pointing his egg at you. “See, she gets it.”

“Pretty sure that wasn’t her getting it,” says Soonyoung. “Pretty sure she was saying butter and ice cream are distinctly different things.”

Vernon scoffs and his eyes slide over to you. “Is that what you meant?”

You shrug, too busy inspecting your wet bread, looking for a bit that isn’t mushy. Your stomach rumbles so loud that the guys stare at you quietly for a moment.

“Agree with me and I’ll get Jun to make you a grilled cheese.”

Two cheese heavy meals in a day? Your guts might complain but your mouth certainly won't. “Sold.”

“That’s bribery,” argues Soonyoung. He turns on you. “I’ll remember this, traitor.”

Vernon laughs. “Wanna come hang out back here?”

You nod, and Vernon disappears out of view. You make your way around the bar, and follow Soonyoung through the door to the kitchen.

Jun is already starting on your grilled cheese. He’s slicing the bread and offering you a smile as you walk in and copy Vernon and Soonyoung, pulling yourself up to sit on the only counter not being used for prepping food. Jun is wearing his visor backwards, and there’s flour (powdered sugar?) dusting his nose. Cute.

“Hi Jun Junhui.”

He blinks, confused. “Sorry, it’s just Jun– not Junhui.”

Oh, so he’s easy to fuck with.

“Junnot Junhui?”

He stares at you blankly. “Call me Jun.”

“I’ll try to remember,” you say, with mock-earnest. “But Junnot is pretty cemented in there now.” You rap your knuckles on your head. “Ow.”

Jun glances at Soonyoung. “Is she always like this?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, dramatically. “She’s even worse when you get to know her. Problem is she’s actually pretty useful so you end up keeping her around.”

You grin. “I’m like a bedbug.”

Vernon frowns. “What’s great about bedbugs?”

“Huh,” you say, thinking hard. He’s got a point. You click your fingers– “A rat!”

“If I found a rat in my kitchen I’d get the traps out,” says Jun flatly, and then clarifies– “The no-kill ones. I’m not a monster.”

“Type two diabetes?” offers Vernon.

Soonyoung shakes his head. “She’s not sweet enough.”

“Dandelions,” cuts in a voice behind you, making you jump. Mingyu’s face is peeking through the hatch, he looks so out of place here, in his crisp shirt and expensive blue tie. The others go a little quiet in his presence, so you wonder how often he spends time out of his office in the resort.

“For fuck’s sake,” you groan, scowling. “Could you breathe louder so we in the land of the living know you’re coming?”

“Dandelions are perfect,” Soonyoung agrees, clicking his fingers. “Annoying, everywhere-“

“Can’t get rid of them-“ Mingyu chimes in.

“Suck a dick and die, assholes.”

A wicked grin spreads across Soonyoung’s face. “Kind of ugly until the sun comes up-“

“I’m not ugly,” you say with a petulant pout. “I’m an easy eight, nine on a good hair day.”

“Ten,” says Jun quickly. You give him a thumbs up and he smiles, casting his eyes down to focus very hard on grating cheese. You’re making him your new favourite.

“We’ve seen you drunk with your head in a toilet,” says Mingyu simply. “We’ve seen you when pneumonia bit your ass so hard you didn’t shower for nearly two weeks.”

“You smelled so baaaaad, dude,” nods Soonyoung emphatically.

You pull an affronted face. “I feel like looking like shit while having a life-threatening illness shouldn’t count against me, actually.”

“Every time you coughed you almost peed yourse–”

“Key word being almost–” you interrupt, nearly yelling. You turn to face the people you met just a few hours ago to insist– “I’ve never peed myself.”

Soonyoung laughs, delighted.

“Say something nice about dandelions or I’ll cry.”

Mingyu looks up into his big empty brain to think. “Good for bees…” he trails off.

Jun cuts in- “and for making wishes on.”

“Thanks so much, guys. Way to make a girl feel good.” You roll your eyes. “What are you here for, anyway?” you say to Mingyu. “Are you keeping tabs on me?”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “No,” he says, reaching through the hatch and holding out a sheet of paper for Vernon to take. “We’ve got a crew on site in two weeks, they’re filming the ads for the summer. They’ll want to–”

“Uhh, hello?” you interject. Mingyu looks at you expectantly. “Why are you paying a film crew when you literally have an in-house filmography student?”

“No offence,” he starts gently, and he does actually look like he means it. “But this might be above your pay grade. You know this is a multi-million dollar resort, right?”

“Damn. Fair enough,” you say. You didn’t realise that, actually. You knew it was nice, sure, but Jesus Christ. “Out of curiosity, what’s the budget for the filming?”

“Just the film crew?” he asks. You nod. “Sixty thousand, ish.”

You whistle, low. “Could’ve paid my rent with that.”

Mingyu laughs in a fake way.

“I’ll keep you in mind next time,” he says. “Haven’t they given you your proper uniform yet?”

You glance down at your much too-big polo shirt. “Should I be in something different?”

“You should be in blue. White means you’re first aid trained.”

“Oh shit, yeah,” you say, eyes widening. “No one wants me doing mouth to mouth, I’d be more likely to kill them.”

Vernon cackles and kicks at Jun, who ignores him.

“Yup,” agrees Mingyu. “Call in at reception at closing and we'll get Seokmin to find you the right kit.”

You nod, and with a wave to the group, he’s gone.

“Any allergies? Is there anything you don’t like?” Jun asks.

“No allergies. But a big no to beans. Texture’s weird.”

“Got it.”

Soonyoung makes to leave, his break’s over. As the door shuts behind him, the remaining three of you settle into comfortable conversation. You ask Jun and Vernon how long they’ve worked here– five and three years respectively. Vernon grew up here, like you and Soonyoung, just a different part of the city. Tutors English via Zoom as his main job, but he works the wave pool every year just for the plot, apparently. Jun got a job here during a summer trip and never left. He works in the resort kitchen during the off-season, but he prefers it out here in the park.

“Less eyes on you,” he says, drizzling something red and sticky over your sandwich. He presses the pieces together, and moves it over to the grill.

“How ominous.”

Jun smiles but doesn’t elaborate. “You’re a film student?”

“Yeah,” you say, sighing dramatically. “Until I get kicked out for failing.”

“Why are you failing?” asks Vernon, around a mouthful of fries.

Two months, three weeks, and one day left. You have nothing, nada, zilch. Stumped for ideas, inspiration, and manpower. Fuck Jiho and his absent manpower.

“Got a project due soon that I haven’t even started– well, I did start, but then my partner got kicked out of school and it was too big to keep going by myself. So now I need something new.”

“What’s the brief?”

“We’ve got a lot of creative freedom to be honest. Fiction, non-fiction– doesn’t matter. Just needs to be between twenty and thirty minutes and have a quote-unquote nostalgic feel.”

“Sounds simple enough,” says Vernon, casually.

“Uh huh,” you deadpan. “You come up with something for me then, Mr Spielberg.”

He’s biting his lip, embarrassed, while Jun laughs, plating your grilled cheese next to a much more appealing salad.

“Order up.”

“Ooh thank you, this looks way better than what I had.”

Jun eyes the box sitting next to you. “Not a difficult challenge to beat.”

“Hm, I’m not much of a cook,” you say, pausing to take a bite. Oh God. It’s spicy and sweet and cheesy. It’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten. The best thing you’ve ever eaten from a place called Sharkbait and made by a guy who smells like weed. How tragic. “This is– uh– it’s pretty good.”

Jun scoffs. “It’s really good. They won’t let me put it on the menu though.”

“Fuck those guys,” says Vernon.

Jun smiles. “Yeah. Fuck ‘em.”

You devour your lunch in record time. Jun looks pleased with himself as he rushes out the rest of the orders coming through from out front, and Vernon says his goodbyes as he heads back to the wave pool.

And then it’s just the two of you. Jun works fast and methodically. He doesn’t talk so much as listens to you yap away, but answers a question here and there, laughs at your jokes.

“Hey, how come you’re the manager if you don’t have anyone here to like– manage?”

“It’s usually just me in the kitchen ever since Marnie had an aneurysm, and Jay out front. I can handle it until high-season, and then they’ll hire a temp to see us through.”

You mull this over. “Don’t you get lonely?”

Jun shakes his head. “Everyone comes to visit me, I could use a little more alone time, actually.”

You pout. “So I shouldn’t come back for lunch tomorrow?”

Pink creeps up his neck, and he turns to busy himself tossing the fries in seasoning. “I didn’t say that.”

“Cool,” you say. “Cause I’m gonna need one of those off-menu grilled cheeses for every single shift I pick up.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It turns out everyone who works here is a comedian and/or an idiot, as evidenced when you meet Seokmin, Front Office Manager, and the most sunshine personified dude you’ve ever met.

You turn up at the resort’s reception at closing hours, and now you know why your parents never brought you to the restaurant here for your birthday dinner all these years, because God is it expensive. It’s all marble floors, and gilded details, but in that elegant way that doesn’t throw the money in your face.

Seokmin brings you into the office and motions for you to have a seat while he calls the uniform company.

He smiles brightly as he asks them for your size, then falters.

“You only do unisex clothes?” Seokmin says into the receiver. “Don’t you do unisex for women?”

You poorly disguise your snort as a sneeze as he doesn’t appear to understand whatever the sales rep is telling him.

“Unisex is fine,” you whisper, and Seokmin smiles at you with relief.

He’s still on the phone a minute later, when Mingyu pops his head in the open door.

“Soonyoung’s got a date, I’ve had a day from hell, and you’re my only irresponsible friend,” he whispers. “Wanna come get high with me?”

“Hell yeah,” you say, jumping up as Seokmin waves you off. Wait– “Fuck you, man, who are you calling irresponsible?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your plug’s place isn’t far, a ten minute walk at most. On the way you talk about work, you ask questions about the people you’ve met so far, but Mingyu doesn’t know them as well as he’d like. He’s always shut in the office. You ask what his job title is again, he levels you with a look, and he tells you– LTPS. Or something. He’s in charge of like, resort events and some other really boring shit like– uh– whatever, you’ve already forgotten.

Mingyu concedes he’s buying, since he has been extra snappy lately, but that’s just on account of the extra pressure that comes with the busy season. Once he’s into the swing of summer, he settles down and he’s back to his usual loveable self.

Not long later, you’re standing in Mark’s kitchen, staring at him in disbelief.

Mingyu isn’t sure either. He tugs at your hand holding the bag, sniffs, and immediately recoils. “This smells like shit, man. Don’t you have what we usually get?”

“Frosty Flurkle is so goooood, dude,” Mark insists. “My buddy grew that!”

“Tell your buddy that the people don’t want to smoke lavender and cat vomit. Not for twenty-five a gram.”

He snatches the bag out of your hands. “Well I dunno what to tell you, this is what I’ve got.” Mark puffs out his chest. “I’m his sole dealer.”

“Hmmm.” You draw out the sound. “Maybe you should have a little think about why that is.”

Mark scoffs. “Do you want it or not?”

You look at Mingyu. He looks at you. Your last dealer moved across the country, and you can’t be bothered searching out anyone else at this time of night. Might as well take one gram, you say with your eyes, see if it’s better once it’s in your system. Would be silly to go home empty handed, you assume Mingyu says with his.

“One gram,” you say. “And we’re only paying fifteen.”

“Twenty tw–”

“Sevente–“

One hour and twenty dollars later, you feel sick to your stomach, Mingyu is clutching his head, and you set a reminder to hire an Etsy witch to curse Mark’s entire bloodline. Then you order cheese fries and fall into a restless sleep before they even arrive.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sunday is probably the worst day to be at work. Why would you pick up a shift on a Sunday when you have so many assignments to procrastinate on? Especially this Sunday, when you’re feeling the fuzzy effects of a crappy high, an empty stomach, and a bad night’s rest.

“Woah,” says Jun upon arrival. He smells much nicer than the Foisty Flumple you had last night. Good weed and nice perfume. And pretty. God, he looks amazing. On a better day you’d flirt outrageously with him, but today is one of those days where it was an effort to wash your face, let alone put on makeup. What a cruel, awful world. “You look–”

“If you don’t say some variation of stunning, beautiful, and/or captivating, Jun Junhui, I will eat you alive.”

He grins. “Ravishing.”

Your brows pinch together and a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

“Interesting choice.”

“Uh huh.” Jun rubs the back of his neck. “Hungover?”

You shake your head. “Bad high.”

“Want breakfast?” he asks. You perk up at that. Literally– your face immediately feels less grey. He laughs. “Sweet or savory?”

“Sweet please,” you say, leaning closer to the window. “Just like you.”

You’ve never seen a grown man blush harder. Cute.

He’s back a little later with an iced americano and a warm croissant, filled with raspberry jam, and dusted with sugar.

“Junnot Junhui, you’re the best,” you mumble around a bite. “I could kiss you.”

“Hahahaha,” says Jun, not casually at all. “I– uh– I’d–”

“I’m joking, Romeo.” You wipe the jam from the corner of your mouth. “Settle down, I can smell your adrenaline spiking from over here.”

“Oh, yeah I knew that,” he says, running a hand through his hair in what he must think seems nonchalant and chill. It isn’t. Your grin is akin to the Cheshire Cat.

“I don’t kiss people at work,” you say. And then, meeting his eyes, “You’ll have to take me on a date if you’d like one from me.”

Jun’s adams apple bobs in his throat.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You’re having lunch at the snackbar again, and this time it’s so rammed full with staff on their breaks, it takes Jun a little while to get around to handing over your sandwich. He goes silent when he works, only stopping to break the chaos with a sharp yell, anytime someone messes with the cat magnets on his fridge. You like watching him– his arms while he chops vegetables, the way his little muscles flex when he’s carrying a heavy box, the movement of his fingers when he’s sprinkling seasoning over a pan.

Jeonghan, who works the big slide, grins at you with sparkling eyes. You can sense his evil nature bubbling beneath that angelic facade– that’s best friend material. “You know you’re practically drooling, right?”

You pat your stomach. “Really hungry.”

“For the food or for Jun?”

You push your tongue into the fat of your cheek. “Both.”

Jun makes his way through the people crowding his station, plate held high above his head. He’s smiling lovely when he reaches you, and pushes the plate into your hands.

“Thanks, Junhui, you’re so sexy.” He’s immediately bright red, and Soonyoung throws a wet cloth at you. It smacks off your collar and drips dishwater down your shirt. “AH! Soonyoung, what the FUCK?”

“Don’t flirt with him!”

You wave at him dismissively. “I flirt with everyone.”

“You’ll corrupt my sweet, innocent, Junnot Junhui!”

Jun makes a frustrated sound. “Not you, too? How did I get this nickname?”

“You did it to yourself, sweetheart,” you say, fondly stroking his arm. It’s a feeble excuse to touch.

“You haven’t flirted with me yet,” complains Seungcheol.

You play your part and bat your eyelashes. “Oh, darling, would you like me to?”

He nods, making puppy-dog eyes and pouting. You squeeze his bicep and gasp for the drama of it. “Cheollie, have you been working out?”

Soonyoung gags, and you smirk. Jun looks down at his arms.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Despite the last experience, you are back at Mark’s. Mingyu had a particularly bad day in the office, you will do anything for the bit, and Mark has assured you that his supplier has something better.

You have your reservations, but surely nothing could be as bad as Foisty Farmyard. Surely?

It’s whatever. Mark cuts you a deal on account of your bad experience last time, and that should’ve been your first red flag. The second should’ve been that you met his supplier, Johnny, who apparently wears the jeans low enough to hang off his kneecaps and a huge, gold chain with a dollar sign unironically. But what a deal Mark cuts! Two grams for the price of one can’t be that bad.

Dear reader: it is that bad.

Mingyu greens out within ten minutes. You’re not far behind. Soonyoung comes home from his date and finds you both on the bathroom floor, rolls his eyes, and leaves you both to sort yourselves out.

In the morning, Soonyoung says that if you don’t find a witch to curse Mark, he certainly will.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

All of your new colleagues are easy to like (they’re loud, funny, sweet in their own ways), but it’s Jun who quickly becomes your favourite. Your shifts start with a sweet pastry and an iced americano, sometimes left in your booth with a note, sometimes hand delivered with a sleepy smile. You thought he was quiet, and he is, but he’s also sharp, and playful, and funny in that really cool, witty way. He shines brighter in quieter spaces, when fewer staff crowd his kitchen, and when he forgets his shyness. On the days he’s in early enough to deliver your breakfast, he’ll squeeze into your booth and take your chair while you sit on the counter, and he’ll try very hard to ignore the way you flirt with him.

You’ve been thinking about the vanilla danish he left on your desk all day, and with the way you had to skip lunch, you haven’t had a chance to thank him yet. Two minutes before your break starts is precisely when the film crew arrived on site and for some reason the office radioed through to make it your job to organise their visitor passes. There were so many of them it took up most of your break, and Joshua ended up having to bring you a neatly packaged panini from Jun to speed-eat on the floor of your booth. So with Mingyu’s meeting running over, and Soonyoung heading over to the lazy river to persuade Jihoon to come over for drinks, you rush through the park to catch Jun before he heads home.

The park is deathly quiet at this time– no patrons, no staff, no overplayed feel-good pop music playing from the speakers. From outside the snackbar looks spotless and empty, the hatch window firmly closed. It stinks, though. Jun is here, somewhere. Pushing open the door, the kitchen is just as clean as the front, but with a haze of smoke filling the room. You round the corner and find Jun laying on the floor– joint in hand, staring, unblinking, at the ceiling.

You kick his foot and he doesn’t move. “Dude, are you dead?”

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “Hey, did you know the camels in Petra have wifi?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“It’s true,” he insists, laughing so hard tears stream from his bloodshot eyes. “It’s shav– it’s shaved into their neck hair.”

You laugh. “That can’t be right.”

Jun pats the floor. “Sit with me, I wanna ask you stuff.”

You roll your lips between your teeth to stop your smile spreading further, and you sink cross-legged on the floor next to him. Jun rests his hand on your shoe, little finger tracing the edge of your sock.

“Can’t stay long, Mingyu’s driving us home,” you say, plucking the joint from his hand and taking a drag. “Holy shit, this is good. You wouldn’t believe the crap we picked up last.”

“Mhm, yeah it’s pretty nice.” Jun looks pleased with himself. “You live far?”

“That’s your question? Borrrrring.”

Jun turns to smile up at you, lazy and slow, with dark half-lidded eyes. God, he’s hot.

“No. I know where Soonyoung lives. And you live with Soonyoung.”

“You’ve been to our place?”

“Just once. You weren’t there. I’d have remembered.”

There are butterflies in your stomach. You let them swirl.

“Ask me something better, then.”

Jun stares at you. Quietly, he says, “I can’t think straight.”

His little finger brushes your ankle, pretty mouth parted, and looking like there are too many thoughts behind his eyes. Can’t sort through them, probably, on account of the weed fogging his brain, but it’s nicer to imagine it’s because of you. The silence hangs, so quiet you can almost hear the cogs turning.

You take another drag before offering up the joint above his mouth– your fingers brush his lips as you place the joint between them as he takes a hit. The softness of them is really fucking with you. Boys' lips shouldn’t be that soft. You should ask him what lip balm he uses.

It’s like this, quiet, and soft, and hazy for a little while, the joint getting shorter and shorter as you pass it back and forth. Your body goes liquid and heavy and Jun laughs along with you when you get the giggles over the feeling of his lips brushing your fingertips again. Feels weirdly intimate for sitting on the floor of an industrial kitchen.

“Question.”

“Hit me.”

“Have you–” A long pause. If he weren't looking directly at you you’d think he’d fallen asleep. “You ever been to the Galapagos Islands?”

“Uh,” you cough. “No.”

“Damn. I wanna know what the big heads feel like.”

“Probably really hard.”

Jun chews on his lip. “Yeah.”

Your phone is ringing. Feels like a million miles away. Mingyu’s name is on the screen, and you know you need to answer, but you’re high as shit and he’ll only give you grief for smoking at work. Something something unprofessional. Something something irresponsible. Something something hypocritical. You don’t want to hear it. You let it ring off, wait for a moment, and send him a text.

Me: hanging out with jun. i’ll get the bus

Gyu: You sure?

Me: yeah, won’t be long <3

Before you forget you look up the time for the bus– there aren’t many at this time of day– and set an alarm so you’ll make it to the bus stop in time.

Gyu: Be good. Don’t kill the guy

Me: would never kill the guy i have a big fat crush on

Gyu: 🙄 you have big fat crushes on everyone

“I’ve got one,” you say, leaning back against the dishwasher. Jun turns on his side to look at you properly. “What did you wanna be when you were a kid?”

The corners of his lips twitch. “Promise not to laugh at me?” You smile and shake your head, you’d never promise such a thing. Jun laughs, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. “I wanted– oh God. I wanted to be Jackie Chan.”

“An actor?”

“No, like actually him.” Jun is the first to start laughing, full body shakes, his hands fly up to cover his face, and you’re near silent with laughter just watching him. It’s not even that funny, but he is. “I wanted– I wanted to like.. morph into his body or something. I wanted become actual Jackie Chan.”

The silence you fall into is easy. There’s nothing left to smoke and the feeling sets in, a soft buzz in your body, heavy arms, heavy eyes. This is so nice.

“Got ‘nother one,” Jun says, after a little while. “What was your project about? The one you dropped.”

It’s hard to explain. “S’about how, like– like how crushes are better than the real thing, y’know?” Just looking at him, you can tell he doesn’t get it. “Like when you get a crush, and it’s fuzzy and silly and exciting, and everything about them feels electric. And you think they’re the best person you’ve ever met, and your stomach is in knots wondering what they think about you. And your imagination runs wild wondering how they like to kiss.”

Jun is staring at your lips. Your breath hitches. There are flashes of Jiho in your mind’s eye. It’s not like you loved him or anything, it was just turning into something a little more than like. Him in the morning, sleepy and soft, texting other girls. Him fresh out of the shower– water in his hair and running down his neck, snapping a selfie in the mirror to use on Tinder– then slipping back into bed just to get annoyed that he couldn’t make you come. More likely that you wouldn’t fake it for him. Whatever. A ‘red-flag’, your friends had called him. It’s okay. A walking reminder of why crushes reign supreme. It’s really okay, you weren’t in deep enough for it to matter.

“But six months later it’s real, and you can touch, but they don’t get you off like you’d hoped, you know? And you don’t like the way they kiss as much as you did in your imagination. And they don’t always say the right thing. They’re always competing with the imaginary version you made up of them, and you’re fighting something invisible to be seen as enough.”

“You keep saying ‘you know’,” he says carefully. “But this sounds like a unique experience.”

The silence hangs between you.

“Was it about you? You prefer limerence over the real thing?”

Yes and no. It’s not that you prefer limerence as such, but nothing you’ve experienced yet has been better than the feeling of almost. If the real thing ever lived up to the make believe in your head you’d snatch it up in a heartbeat. The trouble is that it feels rare, only meant for a few and not the many.

“Crushes are easier to come by,” you say. “It isn’t like that for you?”

Jun shakes his head. “I hardly ever like anyone. No projections when I do, though.”

You gawk at him. “Wah, what a life. What’s that like?”

“Pretty good,” Jun says, smile spreading crooked across his lovely face. His hand isn’t draped across your ankle anymore, it rests by his side on the tile floor, and you miss the weight of it. “Easier than whatever the fuck you’re doing. Your way would give me anxiety.”

You nudge him in the side. “Oh, is your way going well for you, then?”

Jun stretches his arms out, pushes himself up to sit, and says, “I’m still single; so not that well, no.”

Your alarm goes off, and when you say you’ve got to get going, he almost looks a little disappointed. You push yourself off the ground and turn.

“Are my shorts covered in dirt?”

Jun eyes you with suspicion. “Are you trying to get me to look at your ass?”

“Obviously.” You peek at him over your shoulder. “Is it working?”

“You’re not slick,” Jun scoffs lightly, and tips his head back against the cupboard, exposing the long line of his neck. It’d be nice to kiss him there. You pout at him, make moments like these light so you can play pretend in this crush a little longer. He laughs, and his eyes flicker down. “Dust yourself off a little– there, now you’re good.”

“Thanks, pal.”

“You’re welcome, amigo.”

“See you later, alligator.”

“In a while, crocodile.”

“Wait–” Jun grabs your wrist on your way out. The tips of his ears are tinged red. “Gimme your number. In case– y’know, in case you can’t find any good shit again.”

God, he’s cute.

Later, when you get home and find yourself raiding all the snacks in the cupboard, Mingyu catches you in the act, immediately clocks your bloodshot eyes and the stench of weed, and chews you out on the spot for 1) getting stoned in the workplace, and 2) not sharing the good stuff with him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“I met Weird Al Yankovic once,” Jun says, when you ask if he’s ever met any celebrities. “We made eye contact through the hatch and told me to be careful not to chop a finger off. That’s probably when my fear of knives kicked in.”

“Dude, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re like the strangest person I’ve ever known.”

Jun plucks the joint from your lips and puts it to his own. You like when he does that. When the smallest brush of skin can be felt all over.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Getting stoned with Jun after work is fast becoming a semi-regular thing. Never anywhere but his kitchen, never organised but it becomes expected. At lunch, if he’s planning on staying late, he’ll ask if you’re riding with Mingyu or getting the bus, and that’s the decider. Sometimes Vernon is there, sometimes Seungcheol.

After the third session you start offering to buy, because you’re smoking all his shit and it seems unfair that you’re probably putting his kitchen at a deficit too. Jun waves you off. He likes to do things for people, apparently. After the sixth, you start asking who his dealer is (mostly on account of Mingyu, who is vehemently against getting dummy high at work, but is just as bitter he’s been left with Mark With The Bad Stash as a supplier.) but Jun won’t say. No amount of flirting will make him fold.

Trading ridiculous questions on the floor of Sharkbait’s kitchen is becoming a semi-regular thing too. The questions are silly, always surface level, could be one of those scripted five minute mock-interviews you see online sometimes, and you know it’s because you hardly know each other to ask the real stuff yet, but you like it. It’s easy. It’s simple.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Mingyu is positively grey when you get home from visiting your parents on Thursday evening.

“Do not tell me you went to fuckass Mark again?”

“I went to fuckass Mark,” he wails.

“Whyyyyyyy, Mingyu? Why fuckass Mark?” You start to shake his shoulders but stop short when it looks like he’s about to empty his stomach over your shoes. “Get yourself to bed.”

“Can’t,” he says, ashen face knotted up into a frown. “You’re gonna have to take me.”

“You’re the size of an ostrich, Mingyu, be serious.”

“I’m not an ostrich,” he cries. “Please please please help me.”

Jesus Christ. “You’re a baby.”

He pouts. “A sick baby.”

“Soonyoung—” you yell down the hall. “Come help me drag the baby to bed!”

“Will you curse him this time?”

“Soonyoung? Did he melt a chopping board on the stove again?”

“No,” says Mingyu, screwing his eyes shut. “Mark.”

“Sure, why not.”

Finding the right kind of Etsy witch proves difficult. It’s not the scams you care about as such, but more so one that isn’t too scary looking. You don’t actually want anything serious to happen to Mark, you’ll settle for something like a bad case of halitosis– but all of these Bad Luck spell reviews cite awful occurrences that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, let alone some doofus who overcharged you for shitty weed.

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, freshly showered and drinking leftover wine, while Soonyoung lays across the sofa and peers at your laptop screen over your shoulder. You’re waiting on your food to arrive before starting your show, and figured you’d better find a witch sooner rather than later.

“What about this one?” says Soonyoung, pointing at a listing.

“You want me to buy a curse from someone called LadyEviliansCoven?” you say, incredulous. “The one who literally has Evil Ian in her name?”

Your phone goes off.

Jun: Will you be my guinea pig tomorrow?

Me: depends. what’ve you got in mind for me ;)

Jun: Lol. It’s a surprise.

Me: okaaaaaaay fine

Me: just so long as it’s not cheese again, i fear i’m going to turn into a block of cheddar

Soonyoung reads over your shoulder. “You’re talking to Jun?”

“Yeah, we swapped numbers last week.”

Jun: I like cheddar :)

Me: omg you’re so smooth :)

Soonyoung tuts.

“What’s with you lately,” you ask. “Why are you being so weird?”

He sighs heavy. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way–” and it immediately gets your back up because he’s about to say something offensive and– “but could you not be a– um– a flirt at work?”

You spin around to pull a face at him. “I thought you were going to call me a whore for a second.”

Soonyoung smirks. “I considered it.”

“I’m not flirting with everyone.” Not seriously, anyway. Soonyoung levels you with a look. “I’m not.”

Jun: Wanna come get high with me? I have better shit than your weed guy.

“All I’m saying is don’t toy with Jun for the bit. He’s too soft-hearted.” It’s so rare that Soonyoung goes serious that it’s hard to counter it. He’s right. You have a tendency to take a joke too far, to flirt your way into and out of too many crushes. People get attached quicker than you do and it’s easy to forget when you move like the wind. Maybe it’s the other way around? Move like the wind so it’s easier to forget.

Me: can’t, sorry. it’s gilmore girls night. raincheck?

Jun: I’ll hold you to it :)

“She’s so fucking hot,” drools Soonyoung, reaching across your shoulder to jab at your screen. “Pick her.”

You scoff. “Who chooses an Etsy witch based on her level of hotness–” You stop short as you peer closer to inspect the sellers’ profile picture. “Soonyoung, that’s an AI photo, you fucking imbecile.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sharkbait has been off limits for the last three days for recording. Mingyu said on no account can Jun or anyone else (i.e. you) get high in there until filming has wrapped, and you’re quietly convinced it’s because he wants to be invited to your smoke sessions. You don’t blame him.

This is how you end up sitting on the living room floor with everything feeling pink and golden, and off balance in that really cool, roller coaster moving in slow motion type of way. Mingyu is laying face down on the sofa, fast asleep and drooling. The bowl lays as spent as him on the table, embers fading out. Vernon and Soonyoung are chatting away and you can hardly focus on the words. Jun catches your eye, and he makes this funny expression like he’s making fun of you, and though you’re not quite following it makes you laugh anyway.

You’ve become hyper-aware of his body next to you. The long line of his legs, how he stretches out like a cat, and how you could fit your finger between the part in his lips. Soonyoung is saying something about how hungry he is, and you are too but you can’t get up from the floor as fast as Jun.

“Come help me,” Jun says. “Show me around your kitchen.”

“Ughhhhh,” you groan. But he’s pulling you up by the wrist and you’re thinking how unfair it is that someone so wiry is as strong as he is. Not just unfair but hot. Crushes are evil, you think. He’s tugging you into the kitchen by the hand, and it’s all clammy and warm but not so bad you want to let go.

You’re too high to be of much help, but you direct Jun to where you keep whatever he asks for, hold the ingredients he pulls from the fridge, chop whatever he tells you to chop, and stir whatever he tells you to stir.

“That’s a lot of garlic,” you muse.

“Yeah,” says Jun. “I know how to party.”

You’re not much of a cook, but Jun is, and he’s here with his soft voice and his soft heart, and very occasional soft touches keeping you steady. He doesn’t look at you often, but when he does his smile near breaks his face. God, it’s so nice.

Time moves strange and fluid, and the laughter from your friends filters faintly down the hallway. They sound so much further away. And then Jun is in front of you, holding a spoon up to your lips and telling you to open wide. Hard not to hear the implication behind the words, hard not to look him in the eye as you open your mouth for him and take what he offers. You’re too high for this.

There are butterflies in your stomach, in your eyes, in your mouth. You let them fly.

You swallow, thick. Lick your upper lip, slow. Under his breath, Jun swears.

“This is so good, I’d let it get me pregnant.”

Jun startles. “Uh– I’m not ready to be a dad.”

“The food, Junhui.”

A long pause. Jun stares. “Right. Hahaha.”

Mingyu is in the doorway, white-knuckling the frame. “OhmyfuckingGod, guys,” he says. “I got this vision you were kissing. I think I’m telescopic.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Monday morning rolls around far too quickly and you’re wondering who decided an eight o’clock lecture would be appropriate for the start of the week. Professor Lee talks of how the progress of technology affects aesthetics in her usual soft way of speaking, and you make an attempt at concentrating enough to take notes while ignoring the incessant buzzing in your pocket. At the end of the session, Professor Lee calls your name as you’re packing up your bag. Your friends hang back, but knowing the line for coffee will be miles long if they don’t hustle you tell them not to wait and to grab you a coffee, and you make your way to the front.

Professor Lee greets you warmly. She’s felt sorry for you ever since Jiho left you in the lurch. When it all came to light she’d tried to get you to join another group, but your peers were so far into their projects you’d only disrupt their rhythm if they had to find something for you to do, and your contribution would be next to nothing. You’ve never liked being a burden, but with the deadline edging closer you’re starting to regret not taking Professor Lee’s advice.

“I wanted to check in with you,” she says gently. Bless her. “How’s your assignment coming along?”

One month, two weeks, and five days left. You still have nothing, nada, zilch. Unfortunately, your first instinct is to lie out of your arsehole.

“Good, thank you!” you say brightly.

“I didn’t see your name on the equipment rentals list?”

Fuck. Fucking shitballs.

“Oh, that’s because I’m filming on my dad’s Super 8.” Shit shit shit shit. He does have a Super 8 but there’s not a chance in hell he’ll let you use enough film to make up twenty minutes worth of footage. “Thought it’d give it that authentic nostalgic feel.”

Professor Lee’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “Super 8? Audio film is hard to get hold of these days. What are you doing for sound?”

“Tascam. I’ll edit it together in post.”

“Are you having someone slate for you? It’s tricky to sync if you don’t.”

“Yeah, one of my friends.”

This lie is already getting too big. You have no time– since for all the days you’re not in lectures, you’re at work, and it’s not like there’s anything to film there. People on animal floaties bobbing down the lazy river? Bored lifeguards messing around by the wave pool? Jun, high as fuck, making you sandwiches and pretending not to have a big fat crush on you and pointedly ignoring how you flirt with him?

Wait.

Wait.

It’s a moment not unlike all those old cartoons, in which the light bulb flashes above the characters head.

“I’ve got to say– I’m really concerned you’ve bitten off more than you can chew,” Professor Lee says, her voice low and serious. But you’re not paying it mind, because now– now you finally have an idea. And the guys will help, they’re all born entertainers. The trouble will be convincing your dad. The trouble will also be not telling Mingyu and convincing Soonyoung to not give the game away.

“I’m okay, really.”

Professor Lee is unconvinced, but you’re resolute now. You can turn this around.

Out in the hallway, you pull out your phone to see a slew of messages.

Gyu: I need your help

Gyu: I’m FUCKED

Gyu: I also need to get catastrophically drunk and/or stoned tonight, please beg Jun to give up his dealer because I sure as shit am not going back to motherfucking Mark

Jun: guinea pig duties tomorrow? new pancake recipe

Gyu: I’m so fucked CALL ME

Soonsoon: u will never guess what’s happened

Gyu: Never forgetting that you abandoned me in my time of need

Gyu: If I pay you a lot of money will you call me????

Soonsoon: btw mingyu’s about to have a heart attack please call him so he stops crying

Gyu: I think I’m dying, please make sure my family know it was your fault

You call Mingyu back. It’s hard to hear through all the tears and the wailing but eventually Soonyoung snatches the phone from his hand and walks you through the drama of the day. The long and short of it is Mingyu has been scammed out of fifty percent of the filming allowance, a whole thirty-thousand dollars and the biggest budget he’s been tasked with managing so far. The film crew has disappeared into thin air. The deadline for rolling out the summer ad is looming over his head, and now he’s begging you to help him fix it before he loses face, and/or his job.

Well.

Shit.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Okay. The plan is you’ve got the green light for a mockumentary, of sorts– in exchange for a thirty-second ad for television. And you’re being paid. Not the same amount as the scammy crew, of course, but way more than you could’ve hoped for as a filmography student. Sure, you’re good, but this is unheard of. Unbelievable. You’re taking it as a compliment, even though Mingyu was unnecessarily clear about only asking you because it’s too late in the game to ask anyone else.

Truth be told, you had no idea Mingyu had so much power. He’s talked your manager into giving you a half shift off ticket booth duty until filming is complete, and wrangled you an intern from the office to assist.

Seungkwan the intern is apparently grateful to be ‘let out of the dungeon’ and although he doesn’t have the first clue about what he’ll be doing for you, he’s a quick learner and very eager to avoid hot desking and spending his day fetching coffee. You’ve roped in a bunch of your coworkers to act as your characters. Some extreme version of themselves will do, you’d said, but some of them want to bring something new to the table. Seokmin in particular was rather excited.

You’ve settled on using Super 8 for both projects. You figure you could recycle some of the footage if necessary, and it saves switching between two different styles and sets of equipment. With the payment Mingyu has approved for you, you can afford to buy your own film instead of attempting to persuade your dad to use his, so for all intents and purposes– it’s all systems go.

Except it’s closing hours, and tomorrow will be your first half-day of filming, and you’re laying down in the log flume, not knowing where you’ll start. This is where Jun finds you, legs flopped over the edge of the plastic log, picking at your cuticles and fretting over the enormity of the work you have before you.

“Bad day?” he says. He’s wearing his visor backwards, hair falling in his soft eyes, looking like sugar and all things nice.

“Weird day.” You heave a sigh. “I think I’m not good enough for this.” Jun doesn’t reply, just waits for you to carry on. How could he know what you’re good for? “I think I peaked when I was fourteen, and now it’s all downhill.”

“Fourteen was a nightmare for me, who peaks at that age?” says an unconvinced Jun.

“I could do, like, fuckloads of backflips. Like ten.”

Jun’s eyes bug out. “In a row?”

“Yeah.”

“Woah,” says Jun, under his breath. “So does that make you up-down dizzy instead of circle dizzy?”

You furrow your brow. “I never really thought about it.”

“This isn’t helping?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Not at all.”

“Wanna come over and I’ll make you dinner?”

It takes all of 0.3 seconds to mull it over. “Yeah, okay,” you say, stretching out an arm for Jun to pull you up from the log. He wraps his long fingers around your wrist and tugs, setting you on your feet, and as you start to walk he slings his arm, familiar and friendly, to rest across your shoulders.

“Can we have literally anything that isn’t cheese based?”

Jun sucks air between his teeth. “Well– I had planned on lasagne.”

“Jun, please no,” you beg, clutching at his waist. “My heart is two grams of saturated fat away from sending in its resignation letter.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

His place is bigger than you expected. But whatever, his finances aren’t your business. Much bigger than you’d thought would be manageable for a guy on a cook’s salary. He gives you the tour. There’s three bedrooms. Two of which are devoid of any character, and his, which is full of it. Very him.

“Are your roommates at work?”

“I don’t have any,” he says. “Just me.”

Oh. His finances aren’t your business.

“I like your cat painting,” you say, pointing to the wiry black kitten sitting in a bodega fridge, hanging above his bedside table.

“Thanks,” he says.

He shows you out the bedroom and back downstairs, for quote unquote the rest– there’s more?

There is more. In the entryway is a door you’d assumed a cupboard, but no– it leads downstairs through to a fucking cinema room.

“Dude are you, like, rich?”

Jun laughs, rubs the back of his neck, goes a little red. Very cute.

“This place belonged to my uncle.”

“Woah,” you marvel. “All I ever inherited was the foot in mouth gene and my granddad’s Hi-Fi system.”

“What’s that?”

“Exactly.”

Much like at Sharkbait, you sit on the counter and yap while Jun cooks. He makes hot pot (thank god, because your body has been crying out for vegetables for too long) and keeps having you taste the stock, and when it’s finally done, he asks you to choose something to drink– “beer, wine, liquor, choose whatever,” he says. “It’s all there.”

You chew on the corner of your mouth as you stare at the selection. There’s too much of it and everything looks expensive. The wine bottles have real corks, for Christ’s sake. It’s starting to feel like you’ve been standing there too long, confirmed when Jun comes to stand beside you and asks if you like red. You do, so he picks up something with a worn label. Pomerol, or something. 1952.

“Do you collect this stuff?” you ask, as Jun pours two glasses, and slides one over to you.

Jun laughs for real this time.

“Nah, it was my uncle’s hobby,” he says. “Feels weird to get rid of it.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say softly, resting your hand on his arm.

Jun blinks at you, confused. You take a sip of wine. It tastes old.

“Were you close?”

“Oh– no, he’s not dead. He’s in prison for tax fraud.”

You nearly choke.

Jun slaps your back so hard you’re sure it’ll leave prints that’ll last long enough for Soonyoung to drag you for, and when you finally get your breath back you leap into scolding him.

“Why’d you make it sound like he died?”

Jun gapes. “Hey, you just assume! I didn’t make it sound like anything!”

“You should’ve led with the prison thing, fucknut! People get the wrong idea.”

Jun’s lips twitch. “You’re right, I should introduce myself like that,” he scoffs. “Hi, I’m Jun– by the way, my uncle is a felon and I live in his obnoxiously large house.”

You laugh. “Solid intro.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, rolling his eyes but he’s smiling. “Want me to top up your glass.”

“Fuck no, it tastes like shit.”

“Oh, thank God. I hate it too.”

“Have you got anything stronger?”

Jun grins like the devil.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your head is throbbing. So sick to your stomach that you can’t stand the smell of the breakfast sandwich Jun had slipped into your bag this morning, before you’d run out the door to get to work early. But now Soonyoung is here being a bother– initially concerned but now delighted.

“Where’d you sleep last night?” he sing-songs.

“Fuck off.”

“Not Jun’s place, surely?” He’s putting on his gross cutesy voice.

“Fuck off, Soonyoung.”

“Did you get dicked down?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Oooooh! You wanna tell me the dirty details so bad!”

“I wanna ram this fucking boom mic up your asshole,” you snap, waving it at him menacingly, and it’s enough to make Soonyoung to take a step back and cover his backside with his hands.

“I hate when you’re hungover,” he mutters. “You’re mean.”

“You and me both, sunshine,” you grumble. “But you’re annoying.”

“Yup,” he says. “Can I have your breakfast? I didn’t eat yet.”

“Go nuts.”

Soonyoung inhales your food, and it doesn’t do much to settle your stomach. Seungkwan, Seokmin, Mingyu, Joshua, and Chan show up– and you try very hard to concentrate on explaining the shots you want for the advert. A walk-through of the entrance, Joshua handing over their tickets, and following them walking into the park. And later, when it’s busier with actual customers, focusing on them on the rides, eating lunch, hanging out on the lazy river. Splashes of water from the slides, etcetera etcetera. Some of this might do for an intro to your mockumentary, too.

You ready the camera, Seungkwan stands there waiting with the slate, Soonyoung is on mic duty, the others are in their positions.

And you try to focus, you really do, but your mind just keeps slipping back to last night– going over the conversations you had on the floor of Jun’s living room, after a bottle of something you can’t begin to pronounce and the shittiest rolled joint you’ve had since you were a teenager. You’d played twenty questions, Jun hesitated, and like an idiot you pushed.

“I really wanted to ask if you flirt with me ‘cause you like me or if it’s the same for everyone.” He sucked in a breath. “But I chickened out. Don’t wanna have my dreams crushed yet.”

“Uh-huh,” you’d said, as you passed the joint back to him. His fingers brushed yours. “Ask me again when you wanna know.”

You’re chicken too.

“Sound?”

Soonyoung nods.

“Camera rolling.”

Seungkwan claps the slate.

“Action.”

[illbegottenfaith]

2001 - theo nott x reader

Honey, what you runnin' from? When you comin' back to bed? Toss and turnin' all night long with me instead Honey, what you runnin' from? Where the hell you headed to? Do you like the way I run after you?

or, theo doesn’t understand what’s holding you back from taking things further

a/n - I think I would classify this soft core smut at best? But adding an 18+ tag jic

tropes/warnings - 18+ MDNI, fluff

word count - 1.6k

“Fucking hell. Hide me.”

You shrunk yourself down the best that you could behind your best friend, Ivy, laser-focused on the boy at the other end of the hallway. Ivy rolled her eyes, making no effort to help.

“I can’t believe you still won’t tell me what happened that night. It can’t have been that bad.”

“It was,” you muttered, stupidly trying to get Ivy to cooperate. It was no easy task, especially on days like today when she was feeling particularly stubborn, which was a problem since the boy looked fully intent on approaching them.

“Will you relax? You look like an idiot. Like an even bigger idiot than usual. He probably doesn’t even remember whatever-“

“Ivy. Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party.”

Damn. You thought you had more time. Curse him and his unfairly long legs. Ivy did the grown-up thing, which was literally anything other than pretending she didn’t see him. “It’s alright, Theo. You can make it up to me next year.”

“How was it?”

“It was nice, actually. We got a discount on -“

Ivy was cut off by a gentle tug, revealing a hunched-over you. You straightened hastily, clearing your throat, refusing to meet his gaze.

“L/N.”

“Nott.”

“Planning on dropping by tonight?”

You put on a straight face, looking politely confused. “Hm?”

“The party. Tonight.”

“Oh. Where?”

Theo narrowed his eyes, and your face burned under the intensity of his gaze. It took everything you had to keep your features schooled while he shamelessly searched your face for what felt like far too long.

“The Slytherin common room,” he replied, finally tearing his eyes away from you. You relaxed, blinking hard and a little breathless, your palms a little clammy. “Can’t miss it. Just follow the stench of firewhiskey and bad ideas.”

Internally, you nearly passed out. Externally, you shrugged noncommittally. “Sure. Maybe.” Definitely not. You weren’t going to spend a second longer in Theo’s presence if you could help it. 

You and Ivy get to the party and, as expected, you’re abandoned the second she finds Ivan through the crowd. You wander around before you decide to join a group of Slytherins on the couches, next to Theo. You get handed a drink. It burns your throat and makes your eyes water. The loud bass starts to sound more tolerable. Another drink. Theo’s frowning at you. You wonder if anyone’s told him how good concern looks on his face. Everything is now ten times funnier. You press up against Theo, laughing yourself silly, leaning into his touch as he drapes an arm around you. Another drink. You’re more than lightly flushed. Theo places a hand on your thigh. You don’t move it away. 

Eventually, you end up pressed against the door of Theo’s room, your mouths a heady mess of heat, teeth and tongues, your bodies moulding to each other’s. Your eyes flutter shut, blissfully able to let go with your senses dulled by alcohol. You can’t tell if it’s the music or your pulse vibrating through your body, but you’re aching for his touch. He presses a knee against your core and you groan into his mouth, melting into a boneless mush in his arms.

“Theodore,” you sighed desperately, breath catching in your throat. It was enough to slow his ministrations on your neck which had been filling your head with the most delicious kind of static. You never used his first name despite your best friends being glued by the lips since sixth year, mostly because you never went beyond exchanging civil pleasantries. Occasionally, you’d have a chat that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, or you’d let your thoughts wander to his disarming blue eyes or wicked smile, but that was it. It never did, and it never could, go any further than that. You were too different. It would never work. You’d only be setting yourself up for heartbreak. Nothing good could come of entangling with the illustrious Theodore Nott, figuratively or otherwise.

And to use his first name was to acknowledge the existence of this softer, kinder Theo - a version worlds away from that Nott boy with the aloof face and the piercing eyes. He hummed against your neck, thumbs restlessly skimming the waistband of your skirt.

“We can’t - we shouldn’t,” you continued, once you were able to make sense of your fuzzy thoughts. You pushed him back gently, cool air rushing in to douse the heat of the moment. “Our friends have a whole thing. We’d only get in the way. It’s just a bad idea.”

His hands stilled on your hips. “I don’t understand. What about our thing?”

He looked so dazed and so adorably dishevelled that you almost felt sorry for him. It was late, Theo’s words sounded dangerously close to slurring, and if you were being honest, you should have left the party hours ago. You stroked his cheek absentmindedly before gingerly slipping out of his hold, recovering your shirt. You slipped it on, fumbling at rhe buttons with trembling fingers, and turned back to see Theo still watching you, uncomprehending, his swollen lips parted in confusion.

“Get some sleep, Nott. You’ll get what I mean in the morning.”

“Bye, Theo,” Ivy was saying now. “Give Ivan a kiss for me.”

“Should I feel him up while I’m at it?”

“It only seems right to give him the full experience.”

Ivy grinned as he walked off while you all but dragged her down the hall towards your next class.

“Aw, come on, Y/N, he’s not that bad.” She glanced at you, eyes twinkling with mirth. “You know, I always thought he has a thing for y-“

“Aren’t you late for Herbology?”

Ivy cursed as she fumbled at her wristwatch, hurrying down the corridor. In about a minute, she’d realise that she didn’t have Herbology today, but you decided to let her find that out herself.

Hours later, you were holed up in the library, desperately trying to plug your ears with all the ruckus going on floors below. Trying to focus was a losing battle.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Your head snapped up too see Theo leaning against one of the bookshelves. Busted. To be fair, she was nowhere near the world’s best liar, so it was doubtful whether he had even believed her in the first place.

“Nott,” you greeted, in a pleasant enough voice. “Is that the time? I hadn’t realised the party had already started.”

The music continued blasting, more than audible to the two of them. Theo arched an eyebrow, slowly walking over, and you had the decency to look embarrassed over your bald-faced lie.

“I was planning to drop by later.”

“Well, you should.”

“Maybe I will:”

“It’s almost as fun as that last party ages ago.”

You stiffened at the memory. “Ah. Yes.”

Theo leaned over you, broad-shouldered and hypnotising. He dragged his gaze across you inch by agonising inch, undressing you with his eyes. You were starting to feel uncomfortably warm in your uniform. He dropped his voice.

“First and last time I see you in my bed, hmm?”

You choked, failing to suppress the shiver prickling over your skin. “That’s - stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Talking like…that.” You felt your face heat up all over again, cursing yourself for your inability to even pretend to keep your cool in front of him. “Looking at me like that.”

His gaze flickered to your chest, so brief you’d have missed it if you blinked. “Like what?” 

You let out a frustrated, overwhelmed sigh, your brain becoming oddly fixated on the memory of his hands on your hips, travelling up your ribcage, at the nape of your neck, grip tightening on your waist -

“Go on. Use your words.”

His breath tickled the shell of your ear, the closest he’d been to you since that night. 

“Like…like you actually want me. Like I’m something special.”

“You are something special.”

You groaned and looked away. “I’m seeing someone,” you tried, half-heartedly. Theo snorted.

“What, that Davies guy? Yeah, like that’s going to last.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to feel all that indignant on Davies’ behalf. Not that you were going to let Theo know that. “I’ll have you know that Mac is a perfect gentleman.”

“My point is-“ Theo started, irritatedly. You took a perverse sort of pleasure in ruffling his feathers. “- why the fuck are we talking about Davies when you could be in my bed, doing far more interesting things with that mouth?”

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely. Perhaps you like having me run after you. Is that where you get off, hmm? The thrill of the chase? Being a tease?”

“I am not a -“ you began hotly, before you caught the mischievous twinkle in his eye. You rolled your eyes. “You’re too cocky for your own good,” you muttered. 

“I thought you like me cocky,” he teased. His expression softened the next second and you watched him trace lazy circles on your wrist.

“Besides…I’ve never tried this hard to get into someone’s pants.”

You gave a shaky laugh. Theo bent down once more, this time to press a kiss to your lips, then another, and another, until you were lying on your back on the table, looking sinfully ravished, blouse long forgotten.

One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

[nhmkhnh]

⋮ ⌗ ┆beneath the rain, they bloomed.

𓏵 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: caitlyn & vi x fem!reader 𓏵 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄: they were once helpless pups in the rain—now they’re full-grown hybrids in heat, and you’re the only thing they crave, worship, and refuse to share. 𓏵 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: hey babes, i'm back with the continuation of my hybrid!caitvi au, much longer scenarios (and i also have a chat bot on janitor ai, the link is in my navigation, andd maybe this post will be a small help about creating scenario and stuff.) 𓏵 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): lowercase, partly explicit content (minors & men dni) ⤷ 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: german shepherd-hybrid!vi ;; black panther-hybrid!caitlyn ;; public jealousy ;; hurt/comfort smut ;; soft overstim ;; worshipping ;; dom!caitvi ;; obsessed caitvi vibey (?) ;; praise kink. ⤷ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.3k

previous part / navigation.

prologue.

it always rained in the city when things were about to change.

not just the soft kind of drizzle that kissed windows and made lovers huddle closer, no. tonight was the other kind—the kind that turned streets into ink and poured from the sky like grief. you hadn’t meant to walk this long in it, but buses were slow and taxis were ghosts after midnight. your shoes squelched every few steps, each footfall sending another ripple across the puddled sidewalk. the umbrella you brought had already given up the fight, bones snapped, fabric flapping in the wind like a wounded wing.

but none of that compared to the sound you heard next.

a cry.

faint. wet. fragile.

you stopped in your tracks. rain hammered the pavement, ran in rivulets down your jacket, soaked your hair. you tilted your head, listening.

there it was again. a sharp whimper, broken off halfway. not human, not quite. animal?

you turned toward the alley between two shuttered shops. cracked neon buzzed weakly above the doorway of a closed laundromat, casting the narrow alley in flickering purples and reds. the sound came again, softer this time. desperate.

you almost didn’t see them.

a collapsed cardboard box was tucked between an old dumpster and a stack of broken wooden crates. rain had turned it to mush, but somehow, it still held together—barely. you knelt beside it, heart already tightening.

and there they were.

two tiny, soaked creatures curled against each other. one had ears far too big for its head, trembling as it blinked at you with pale pink eyes that looked both alert and fading. the other was smaller but sleeker, dark fur clinging to a thin frame, one paw stretched protectively over the other’s back. their bodies rose and fell with the shuddered rhythm of survival.

they looked like pups—but not quite.

not normal, at least.

the one with the big ears let out a weak growl, a sound so pitiful it might’ve made you cry if you weren’t already drenched to the bone.

“hey,” you whispered, voice cracking, hands out in front of you. “it’s okay. i’m not gonna hurt you.”

the darker one bared tiny teeth. you didn’t flinch.

“i’m just gonna… take you somewhere warm, alright?” you murmured. “you can bite me later if you want.”

you peeled off your jacket and gently lifted them, wrapping them both in the fabric. they didn’t resist. maybe they knew they didn’t have many choices left.

they were light—far too light—and they didn’t stop trembling even when pressed against your chest. you didn’t care about the weight of the rain or the chill crawling into your bones anymore. you just held them tighter, kept walking.

your apartment wasn’t big. it was barely more than a studio with a heater that wheezed like it had bronchitis and a ceiling that leaked in one corner. but it was dry, it was warm, and it was safe.

you dried them off with the softest towel you had and laid them beside a space heater, then poured a saucer of milk—not knowing if they’d even drink it. the small one did first, tentative and twitchy. the bigger one followed, flopping over halfway through and burping loud enough to make you laugh.

you named them that night.

the pink-eyed one who huffed like she owned the place, with oversized paws and a stubborn growl? vi.

the sleek, quiet one who moved like a shadow and blinked with something far too intelligent in her gaze? caitlyn.

you had no idea what you were getting into.

weeks passed.

they grew fast. faster than any normal pups should’ve. vi’s ears finally matched her head. caitlyn started climbing onto shelves that were way too high for a creature her size. they learned how to open the fridge. they liked blankets. vi chewed through four of them. caitlyn stared at the ceiling like she was doing calculus.

they were weird. but you loved them.

you didn’t question the way their eyes sometimes seemed too human. or the way they made expressions that looked… knowing. you didn’t think too hard about how vi tried to mimic the way you opened doors with her paws. or how caitlyn watched you brush your hair, like she was memorizing every movement.

you didn’t question anything—until the day they weren’t pups anymore.

it started with the sound of something falling.

you rushed out of the bathroom, still drying your hair, only to stop dead in your tracks at the threshold of your bedroom.

the bed was a mess. so were the sheets.

and standing in the middle of the chaos were two girls.

naked. human-shaped. but not human.

vi had wild strawberry-pink hair that tumbled down in uneven waves, her ears still unmistakably pointed, fur-lined. a long, sleek tail swayed behind her as she bent forward on bare feet, panting like she’d just run a mile. her eyes were golden, animal-like.

caitlyn stood taller, wrapped in one of your hoodies—when had she learned to do that? her black hair spilled down her shoulders, eyes glowing midnight blue in the low light. her claws peeked out from one hand where she clutched the edge of the sleeve.

you said nothing.

they said nothing.

for a long, trembling second, all three of you just stared.

then vi grinned. sharp teeth. head tilt. same cocky little huff from when she was a pup.

“hey,” she said, voice raspy but smug. “told you we weren’t normal.”

you passed out.

when you woke up, it was to the sound of caitlyn’s voice.

“…she’s fine. her pulse is steady.”

“she’s gonna freak out,” vi muttered. “told you this was a bad idea.”

“i told you it was bound to happen eventually.”

“i liked being carried,” vi said flatly. “no stress, no pants.”

you opened your eyes.

they were sitting at your side—still hybrid, still unreal.

and they looked… worried.

caitlyn leaned in, brushing damp strands of hair from your face with clawed fingers. “you're okay,” she said softly. “we didn’t mean to scare you. we just… changed.”

vi snorted. “that’s one way to put it.”

you sat up slowly, eyes darting between the two of them.

“changed?” you whispered. “what are you?”

caitlyn hesitated.

vi leaned in, propping her chin on the bed. “yours,” she said, eyes gleaming. “if you want.”

it started with something so small.

so stupid.

you were sitting on the floor of the living room, cross-legged, hair tied up in a messy bun, sleeves rolled to your elbows, laughing.

caitlyn was beside you, elegant as always even when kneeling, showing you how to fix the broken old camera you found at a flea market. her claws were careful, precise. you’d been watching her hands—marveling at the way her long fingers moved with quiet confidence.

"you’re good at this," you said, eyes sparkling. "were you, like, a tech genius panther or something?"

caitlyn smiled—soft, rare. “something like that.”

you laughed again. “can i be your assistant?”

and that was when vi, perched on the edge of the couch with a ripped protein bar in hand, made a sound that could only be described as a growl.

you didn’t hear it, too busy giggling.

but caitlyn did. she stiffened. her tail flicked once behind her, slowly, like a warning.

vi stood up, the snack forgotten. her tail lashed behind her, heavy boots thudding on the hardwood floor.

“you always look at her like that?” vi asked, voice low, sharp.

you blinked, caught mid-laugh.

caitlyn looked up, cool and unreadable. “like what?”

“like she’s yours.”

“i don’t need to look like anything. i just am.” caitlyn’s voice sharpened. “you’re the one who sulks every time she hugs me first.”

“i don’t sulk,” vi snapped.

“yes, you do. you make that ridiculous sound with your throat and act like someone kicked your tail.”

“oh, i’m so sorry i don’t sound like a damn opera singer when i’m jealous—”

“jealous?” caitlyn’s eyes glinted. “i earned her affection. you just chase it like a puppy.”

vi’s ears pinned back. “say that again.”

“girls—” you started, heart lurching.

but it was too late.

vi took a step forward, shoulders hunched, hands curling into fists at her sides. “she brushed your cheek and you fucking purred. don’t think i didn’t hear it.”

caitlyn stood slowly. “and you whined all night when she kissed my forehead. are you really trying to argue dignity with me right now?”

“i’m trying to argue you back off—”

“enough!” your voice cracked like a whip, high and trembling.

both women froze.

you stood up so fast you nearly stumbled, eyes wide, chest tight. the tension in the room was like a stormfront, crackling, oppressive. vi’s claws were out. caitlyn’s pupils were slit.

you took a shaky step back.

“y-you’re fighting over me? like—really?”

vi’s expression faltered. caitlyn blinked.

“you’re both—beautiful, and cool and… claws and tails and i’m literally just trying to learn how to fix a camera—what the fuck just happened!?”

you looked genuinely panicked, your voice shaking, body stiff.

and then vi was moving forward, hands out, panic overtaking her pride. “wait—wait, cupcake, don’t freak out, i wasn’t gonna—like—we wouldn’t actually—shit, shit—”

caitlyn’s claws retracted instantly. “she’s frightened.”

“no, no,” you mumbled, flapping your hands. “i’m fine. this is fine. just—just maybe don’t growl at each other over me? you’re both hot. i get it. but i am so easily startled, okay? like, horribly. i once cried because a toaster popped unexpectedly. so please.”

vi blinked. “a toaster?”

you nodded, still wide-eyed.

caitlyn sighed. “…you do have a rather delicate nervous system.”

“thank you for noticing!”

silence.

and then—vi snorted.

caitlyn raised a brow. you stared between them.

and then all three of you burst out laughing.

vi stepped forward first, wrapping her arms around you from behind, pressing her face into the crook of your neck. “sorry for growling. i just hate how she talks to you.”

caitlyn, not to be outdone, slid in on your other side, draping her arms around both of you, chin resting on your shoulder. “and i hate how she looks at you like she wants to eat you alive.”

you whimpered.

“that’s not helping, cait.”

“she likes it,” caitlyn purred.

you smacked her thigh, cheeks burning.

and vi just grinned into your hair. “she really does.”

the storm outside was gentle this time—more of a lullaby than a warning. rain tapped rhythmically against your bedroom window, a calming beat that should’ve rocked you to sleep hours ago.

but you were wide awake.

sandwiched between two warm, very still bodies. and they were watching you.

vi was curled at your back, one arm thrown lazily over your waist, tail flicking every now and then against the sheets. her breath was hot against your neck, and you could feel her resisting the urge to bury her face in your skin.

caitlyn was in front of you, arm tucked under your pillow, her leg draped possessively over yours, sharp blue eyes watching your every blink. her fingers traced idle, featherlight lines along your hip like she was drawing a map only she understood.

you shifted.

both of them growled.

quietly. but still.

your eyes snapped wide open.

“i can’t move,” you whispered, panicked but not… entirely upset.

“you don’t need to move,” vi murmured against your nape. “you’re right where you belong.”

caitlyn hummed in agreement, her nose brushing your forehead. “she’s warm. don’t ruin it.”

“i’m overheating.”

“you’ll survive,” caitlyn said sweetly.

“barely,” you muttered, heart doing gymnastics.

vi’s hand slid just a little lower across your stomach. her nose brushed your shoulder. “you smell good when you’re flustered.”

“oh my god—”

“don’t take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart,” caitlyn murmured, dipping down to kiss your collarbone. “you’re tempting fate enough.”

you stopped breathing.

that kiss burned through the thin fabric of your shirt like it was nothing.

vi’s grip on your waist tightened, and her voice went dangerously low. “that’s not fair, cait.”

caitlyn smiled. “you started it.”

“don’t care,” vi growled. “if you’re gonna touch her like that…”

she didn’t finish.

she didn’t have to.

because the next thing you knew, caitlyn’s lips were grazing your throat while vi’s palm slipped under the hem of your shirt, the heel of her hand pressing firmly against your stomach like she needed to feel you breathe.

you squirmed, a soft sound escaping before you could stop it.

and everything stopped.

both hybrids froze.

vi’s breathing turned ragged. caitlyn’s tail twitched once.

“say it,” vi murmured.

“say what?” you whispered.

caitlyn brushed your hair back with a reverence that made your skin tingle. “say you want this.”

your pulse thundered.

you turned your face, just barely, brushing your lips against caitlyn’s jaw as your hand reached behind to grab vi’s wrist. you didn’t push her away.

you pulled her closer.

“i want this,” you breathed. “i want you. both of you.”

and they fell on you like you were the only thing keeping them alive.

vi kissed the back of your neck, nipping lightly, growling low in her throat. caitlyn cupped your cheek and kissed you properly—deep, slow, possessive. like she’d waited months to taste you and wasn’t going to waste a second.

their hands moved together. soft. then firmer.

claws never hurt you. tails wrapped around your legs. teeth nipped at thighs. and mouths whispered sweet, sinful things as the rain kept falling outside, covering your cries.

you didn’t sleep at all that night.

and neither did they.

because now that they’d had you—really had you—they weren’t about to let you go.

you woke up to war.

or at least, the hybrid version of it.

the scent of coffee was thick in the air, but the growling—that wasn’t normal. neither was the sound of a plate shattering.

you stumbled out of bed wearing vi’s way-too-big shirt, padding barefoot into the kitchen with your hair an absolute crime scene. and then you stopped, blinking slowly.

caitlyn stood near the stove, graceful and completely composed, wrapped in your black silk robe like it was made for her. her lips were painted with that smug little smirk she wore whenever she was feeling competitive. her tail swayed behind her lazily, but her claws were out.

vi was shirtless in nothing but plaid boxers, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed and a vein in her jaw visibly throbbing.

“i said,” vi repeated, “i was going to cook her breakfast.”

“you were going to give her food poisoning,” caitlyn said coolly, flipping a pancake with the calm of a seasoned sniper. “she deserves actual nutrients. not mystery mush with hot sauce.”

“it’s eggs and beans,” vi snapped. “it’s got protein. it’s literally fine.”

caitlyn didn’t even look at her. “she nearly died the last time you tried to ‘fry something.’ you boiled oil, vi.”

“i boiled it with confidence.”

you rubbed your eyes. “what in the hybrid hell is going on—”

vi’s head whipped around. “cupcake!”

caitlyn’s ears perked. “darling. you’re awake.”

and like two wolves spotting the same piece of prey, they rushed you.

vi was faster. she got to you first, scooping you up with zero warning and pressing a kiss to your forehead that nearly knocked your soul loose. “you hungry, baby? i made—uh, okay, i tried to make pancakes.”

caitlyn slipped in behind you, hands sliding up your waist like they belonged there. “she means she burned the batter, shattered the spatula, and nearly set the toaster on fire.”

vi growled. “snitch.”

you blinked between them, still dazed from the heat of their bodies and the lingering ache between your thighs. “can i just… have cereal?”

silence.

caitlyn’s eye twitched. vi’s ears drooped.

“don’t you want my protein pancakes?” vi mumbled, crushed.

caitlyn pouted. actually pouted. “i was going to make a lavender honey latte for you…”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “you both literally destroyed the kitchen.”

as if on cue, something behind them sparked. a wire? a ghost? you didn’t want to know.

you sighed. “okay. one of you makes breakfast. the other one makes coffee. no fighting. no claws.”

they both looked at each other.

then at you.

then at each other again.

“…rock paper scissors?” vi offered.

caitlyn rolled her eyes. “fine.”

three seconds later, vi grinned in victory. “yeah. scrambled eggs, here we go—”

“you used rock again, didn’t you?” caitlyn asked, resigned.

vi shrugged. “rock is strong.”

you sat at the counter, still half-asleep, watching vi fumble with eggs and caitlyn prep a perfect cup of coffee with steamed milk and a cinnamon stick.

and despite the chaos, the tension, the hybrid-level pettiness… your heart felt so full.

because they were fighting over you.

your hunger. your comfort. your smile.

and somehow, that was the most intoxicating thing of all.

it started with a sneeze.

just one.

you didn’t even notice it. just sniffled, rubbed your nose, kept scrolling on your phone like normal. but vi froze. like full-on stopped mid-step, tail straightening.

“was that a sneeze?”

you blinked. “…yeah?”

she squinted. “again.”

you stared at her. “vi, i can’t sneeze on command—”

“again.”

then caitlyn poked her head out from the bedroom, eyebrows already furrowed in medical concern. “did she sneeze?”

“she sneezed,” vi confirmed darkly.

“shit.”

you raised both hands. “i am fine, oh my god.”

they didn’t believe you.

five hours later, you were in bed.

against your will.

caitlyn had taken your temperature three separate times—once manually, once with a digital thermometer, and once with a forehead scanner she swore was more accurate.

“101.2,” she muttered, pacing near the window with a tablet in hand. “slight fever. could be viral. need fluids. possibly tea. i’ll prep ginger lemon—”

vi was perched at your bedside, staring at you like you were glass. her ears were down. her tail was curled around her ankle. she hadn’t moved in ten minutes.

“breathe again,” she said quietly.

you cracked one eye open. “vi—”

“again.”

you sighed and inhaled loudly, theatrically.

vi nodded. “still alive. that’s good.”

“vi, it’s just a cold.”

she glared. “says you. your nose is red. your hands are cold. you made a noise like a dying squirrel twenty minutes ago.”

“that was a cough.”

caitlyn returned with tea and three different herbal syrups. “we’re monitoring your vitals every hour. i’ve written it down.”

“you what—”

“rest,” caitlyn interrupted, pressing a cool kiss to your forehead. “doctor’s orders.”

“you’re not a doctor!”

“she wears glasses,” vi said. “that counts.”

you groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over your face.

ten seconds later, two warm bodies slid in beside you—caitlyn behind, vi in front. sandwiched again. pinned.

“guys. i’m not dying.”

“you coughed in your sleep earlier,” vi murmured, curling her arm around your waist. “it broke my soul.”

“i nearly cried,” caitlyn added softly. “but i didn’t want to get emotional. you know. in case it shocked your immune system.”

you poked your face out of the blanket like a disgruntled burrito. “are you both insane?”

they kissed your cheeks at the same time.

“absolutely,” caitlyn whispered.

“for you?” vi grinned. “yeah.”

by the time you drifted off, warm and exhausted, caitlyn had her chin tucked above your head, purring lightly. vi was mumbling something about making soup tomorrow, even if she had to fight the stove again.

and despite the sore throat and fever dreams, you had never felt more safe.

it was one compliment.

one harmless, off-hand, "hey, that color looks great on you."

the cashier smiled, scanning your snack items. you smiled back because—you know—politeness. maybe you laughed a little. maybe you touched your hair.

maybe that was a mistake.

because vi had heard it.

and vi saw everything.

from the moment that cashier's eyes lingered too long on the curve of your neck, vi was locked in. her ears perked. her nostrils flared. her jaw clicked. a deep growl started building in her throat like thunder crawling over gravel.

she took one step forward.

and caitlyn stopped her.

with a single touch to vi’s forearm and a soft, “let me.”

vi bared her teeth. “he looked at her like he wanted to breed her.”

the couple behind you in line choked on their gum.

“let. me,” caitlyn repeated, calm as a loaded gun.

you tried to pay quickly.

“you’re beautiful,” the cashier said again, fumbling with the change. “sorry. that was—uh—forward.”

“it’s okay,” you said, smiling weakly. “i—uh—appreciate it.”

which was when caitlyn stepped forward.

and leaned across the counter.

her smile was razor-sharp. eyes glinting. her voice? soft. deadly. like poisoned silk.

“she’s spoken for,” she said smoothly, claws tapping the countertop. “but thank you for the compliment. it’s nice to know some humans still value their tongues—before losing them.”

the cashier visibly paled.

you froze. “cait—”

and then vi was there, slamming down the candy bar you'd forgotten to grab.

“she already has someone who tells her she’s beautiful daily,” vi growled. “and it ain’t a cashier with a bowl cut and a barcode scanner.”

“vi—”

“let’s go,” caitlyn cooed, taking your hand as if nothing happened. “before she commits a felony.”

outside, you dragged both of them toward the car.

“what the hell was that!?”

vi shoved her hands in her hoodie. “that was restraint.”

caitlyn adjusted her coat, tail flicking as she looked off toward the street. “i let him live. that’s growth.”

“he complimented my sweater. that’s not a crime!”

vi glared. “he wanted your sweater off.”

you groaned. “i can’t take you two anywhere.”

but neither let go of your hands.

you sighed, giving in. “you know i’m not interested in anyone else, right?”

“we know,” caitlyn said gently, tugging your hand to kiss your knuckles.

“doesn’t mean we like people testing the limits,” vi muttered. “you’re ours. not theirs.”

you opened your mouth to argue—

but then vi kissed your jaw.

and caitlyn kissed your temple.

and just like that, your brain short-circuited.

“…fine,” you whispered, cheeks burning. “next time someone flirts with me, i’ll just bark.”

vi’s eyes lit up. “do it. i’ll wag my tail.”

caitlyn purred. “or growl. let’s match.”

you dragged your hands down your face.

what had you gotten yourself into?

(…love. you got yourself into love. violent, overly dramatic, hybrid love.)

it had been a long day.

your muscles ached, your brain was fried, and the only thing you wanted was ten solid minutes alone in hot water without someone either growling over your attention or stealing your snacks.

so, you bribed them.

“i’ll take a bath. alone. for twenty minutes. if no one comes in—” you said sternly, pointing at vi, “—there will be cuddles.”

“and popcorn,” vi added hopefully.

“and a movie,” caitlyn said.

you sighed. “…sure. but alone, vi.”

vi grinned with a wink. “fine. i’ll guard the door.”

“i don’t need a—oh never mind—”

and into the bath you went.

twenty-five minutes later—because you allowed yourself a little more soak time—you emerged from the steam, towel wrapped around your body, hair dripping down your back, and blissfully relaxed.

until you stepped into the bedroom.

and stopped.

because there—curled up together in a tangled mess of limbs and fur and rumpled fabric—were vi and caitlyn.

sleeping.

on your clothes.

your freshly folded stack of laundry was no longer folded. your favorite hoodie? wrapped around vi’s shoulders like a security blanket. your pajama pants? clutched by caitlyn, pulled to her chest as she purred in her sleep. a pair of your socks dangled from vi’s ankle. your underwear was tucked beneath caitlyn’s cheek like it was a freaking pillow.

you stood there, dripping, baffled.

“…what the fuck,” you whispered.

vi twitched in her sleep, tail flicking lazily across the floor. “mmph. ‘s yours. smells good…”

caitlyn mumbled something unintelligible and buried her nose deeper into the hoodie sleeve.

you blinked. once. twice.

your heart was a puddle.

you knelt beside them carefully, brushing vi’s hair back from her flushed cheek. she nuzzled your hand like a puppy.

“i said no invading the bath,” you murmured. “not a word about clothing pile nesting.”

caitlyn cracked one eye open. “wasn’t the bath. we followed the scent.”

“what are you, bloodhounds?”

vi yawned. “she’s mine, i’m allowed to sniff her stuff.”

caitlyn huffed, voice sleepy and soft. “ours.”

they both tugged you down into the pile.

you yelped. “guys—i’m wet—”

“we don’t care,” vi mumbled, pulling the towel loose to wrap her arms around your waist.

“you’re warm,” caitlyn added, dragging her leg over yours. “stay.”

so you stayed.

wrapped in your own clothes, in the middle of your room, cuddled between a purring panther and a grumbling guard dog who refused to let go.

and for once… you didn’t even want to fight it.

you didn’t mean to cry.

you’d made it through the whole day pretending you were fine. the fake smiles, the half-laughs, the tightness in your chest you swore you’d deal with later. and then “later” came. and it was quiet.

and in that silence—alone in your room with only your thoughts—you broke.

you didn’t sob. you just leaked. tears fell like they were too used to it. you curled into yourself on the edge of the bed, fingers clenching the blanket like it was the only thing holding you together.

you thought you were being quiet.

but they heard you.

of course they did.

vi was the first in.

no knock. no sound. just a warm body sliding behind you, big arms wrapping around your stomach like she could physically shield you from whatever it was eating you alive.

she didn’t say anything.

she just held you.

then came caitlyn—silent steps, graceful as ever. she slipped in front of you, kneeling between your legs, thumb already brushing at the tears you hadn’t wiped away yet.

“what happened?” she asked gently, voice low, velvet-soft. “what hurt you?”

you shook your head. “i’m just… tired.”

vi kissed your neck, a quiet, grounding thing. “you’re not just anything.”

caitlyn leaned in, her lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “we’re here. you’re safe. you don’t have to hold it alone anymore.”

something broke in you.

and you kissed her. hard.

salt still on your lips. breath shaking. like a confession. like a scream.

caitlyn moaned softly and kissed you back, deeper this time. vi’s hand slid up under your shirt, resting just beneath your ribs. she didn’t move—just held.

“can we…?” caitlyn asked, her forehead pressed to yours. “touch you like you deserve?”

you nodded.

and the world turned liquid.

vi was behind you, mouth hot on your shoulder, her breath ragged, starving. caitlyn was in front, undressing you with reverence, like every layer was a wound she was unwrapping to heal.

“you cry like no one’s ever held you properly,” caitlyn whispered, thumb stroking your hipbone.

vi bit back a growl. “then let’s teach her what it feels like.”

hands everywhere. mouths trailing heat. your back arched, your whimpering breath caught between caitlyn’s lips as vi’s hands spread your thighs. everything they did was slow, intentional. meant to be felt, not rushed.

you were worshipped.

you were undone.

caitlyn’s tongue on your chest, vi’s fingers sinking into you like they belonged there, both of them whispering your name like a vow. you sobbed again—but it wasn’t from pain this time.

it was from being wanted.

from being touched like you were precious. like they’d fight death itself to keep you safe.

and when you came, they held you through it. let you shatter in their arms. let you cry and gasp and cling like they'd never let you fall again.

because they wouldn’t.

not ever.

afterward, caitlyn cleaned you with warm cloths and shaky hands. vi curled around your side, kissing your temple every few seconds like a timer. you were tucked between them, bare and breathless, skin still glowing from where they’d worshipped it.

"you’re never alone," caitlyn murmured into your hair.

vi’s voice, low and sleepy: “you’re ours, cupcake. let us take the weight next time.”

and for the first time in a long time—

you believed them.

you didn’t notice anything at first.

sure, caitlyn had been… quiet. like, real quiet. not the usual cool, calculating caitlyn silence. this was the kind of silence that came with clenched jaws and pupils blown wide like twin moons. she watched you like she was trying to memorize your temperature.

and vi?

she was jittery.

kept pacing. kept growling at nothing. wouldn’t sit on the couch, just hovered behind you like she was working security at a club called touch her and die.

you were oblivious.

so you did what anyone would do when their two very warm, very attractive hybrid girlfriends started acting weird and strange and unreasonably tense.

you got closer.

“are you two okay?” you asked sweetly, peeking into the kitchen where caitlyn had been standing perfectly still for the past ten minutes, staring at the fridge without opening it.

her head whipped toward you.

you blinked. “…hungry?”

“no,” caitlyn said quickly. too quickly. “you just—um—smell different.”

you sniffed yourself. “is that a bad thing—?”

“no,” she said again, eyes sharpening. “it’s… intoxicating.”

you giggled. “aw. thanks—”

she stepped back. physically. like you were dangerous.

which was hilarious. you were literally in pajamas with a little duck on the front.

meanwhile, vi had buried herself in the laundry pile.

not doing laundry. in the pile.

you found her gripping one of your hoodies like it had offended her ancestors, nose pressed so deep into the fabric she was practically vibrating.

“vi?” you called gently.

she groaned.

“are you okay?”

another groan. louder.

“…are you hurt?”

“yes,” she snarled, voice muffled. “in my fucking soul.”

you frowned and knelt beside her. “what’s wrong?”

vi finally looked at you.

and her eyes were glowing.

“i’m trying so hard not to mount you right now, cupcake,” she said through gritted teeth.

you short-circuited.

“i’m sorry???”

caitlyn swooped in like a shadow.

“she’s in heat,” she said, glaring at vi. “and so am i.”

you stared between them, baffled. “heat? like… animal instinct heat?”

vi groaned. “you say it like it’s not ruining my life right now.”

caitlyn pressed a hand over her mouth, breathing slow. “it’s temporary. we’ll stabilize.”

you, brain still buffering: “so… this is like a… no-sexy-time moment?”

vi growled.

caitlyn hissed.

ah.

“or… maybe it’s very sexy-time and i should shut up?”

vi was already standing. caitlyn was already locking the door.

your back hit the wall. hard.

“you’ve been crawling all over us all day,” caitlyn said, tone dangerously soft.

“you’ve worn our clothes. touched our hands. slept with your face in my chest,” vi added, eyes wild.

“…i didn’t know—”

caitlyn’s lips brushed your cheek. “you do now.”

vi’s breath hit your ear. “and you’re not getting out of this room until we’ve burned it out.”

you lost track of time somewhere between caitlyn’s third orgasm and vi’s fifth growl of "she can take more."

the air was thick—warm and sweet with sweat, skin, and something heady you couldn't name. the sheets were ruined. the blankets were long gone. the mattress dipped from bodies constantly shifting, pressing, pinning you down so gently it broke your heart.

it had been hours.

maybe days.

you were half-naked and wrecked, sprawled out like a feast between two starved predators who didn’t want to hurt you—just love you until you forgot your own name.

your thighs trembled from vi’s mouth, still slick and twitching from the last time she whispered “just one more, baby, give it to me, you’re doing so good.”

and caitlyn?

she was kissing down your spine like she was apologizing for how long she’d kept you full.

"you should've said stop," caitlyn murmured against your back, voice wrecked with restraint. “but you looked so pretty when you cried.”

you whimpered, barely able to speak, hips twitching weakly as vi lazily ran her fingers along your inner thigh.

“too much?” vi asked, teasing.

your breath hitched.

she grinned, tongue licking over her teeth. “didn’t think so.”

the first night, they were careful.

almost reverent.

caitlyn had spread you open slowly, fingers precise, patient, mapping your reactions like they were coordinates on a battlefield. she touched you like every moan was sacred, like every twitch was her reward. she didn’t stop until you were arching up, crying out her name like a mantra.

vi had waited.

staring. panting. pupils wide.

and then she’d taken you.

not roughly—no. but deeply. fully. like she needed to feel every heartbeat through your cunt. she moved with maddening control, whispering broken praise as you sobbed into her neck.

“you’re perfect,” she growled, hips grinding against yours. “so fucking perfect for us.”

you didn’t last long. they didn’t let you.

they pulled it out of you again and again.

you cried. they kissed the tears away.

by the next morning, you were floating.

you’d wake only to soft fingers between your legs, a mouth on your chest, warm bodies holding you down with love. there was no rush. just endless waves of touch—soothing and dizzying.

vi licked lazily at your swollen folds, arms looped under your thighs. “you’re still dripping, cupcake.”

“because you won’t stop touching me,” you gasped.

“exactly,” caitlyn whispered, kissing the inside of your wrist. “we’re not done.”

when they slid inside you—together, fingers first, then something more—you couldn’t speak. just sobbed their names and grabbed for anything you could hold: caitlyn’s shoulder, vi’s arm, the sheets, the headboard. your legs shook. your voice cracked.

they kissed every inch of you through the tears.

“please,” you whined one night, body twitching, soaked and flushed. “i can’t—can’t—”

vi kissed your temple, breath hot. “yes, you can. you’re taking it so well.”

“she’s breathtaking like this,” caitlyn said from behind, brushing hair off your sweaty back. “so pliant. so obedient.”

you cried again.

and they started over.

you didn't leave the bed for two whole days.

they kept you warm, wet, worshipped.

caitlyn whispered sweet nothings between kisses, coaxing more sounds out of you until you melted. vi nuzzled your throat like a dog in love, rutting slowly against your thigh until her breath stuttered and she choked out your name.

they didn’t stop until your voice was raw, your body was glowing, and you had nothing left to give but soft whimpers and the word "mine."

which they echoed.

over and over again.

the world was quiet again.

no more ragged breathing. no more growls. no more teeth dragging along skin in desperate instinct.

just warmth.

just them.

you were nestled in the middle—limp, bare, and utterly spent. vi was curled at your back, arms thrown around you like she never wanted to let go again. caitlyn lay in front of you, fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm, her nose occasionally brushing against yours as her eyes fluttered open and closed.

the sheets clung to your skin like a second layer. your body ached in ways that were tender, glowing. and for the first time in a long time, you felt… whole.

no tension. no performance. just you.

and them.

they hadn’t moved in hours.

not because they were tired (though they were), but because every time you so much as shifted, vi let out a soft, pleading noise in her sleep, and caitlyn instinctively tightened her hold like you were already slipping away.

you weren’t.

you never wanted to.

your voice came out a whisper. a shaky, soft thing. vulnerable in a way that terrified you more than teeth and claws ever could.

“…i love you.”

silence.

you felt vi’s breath hitch behind you. caitlyn froze—her thumb pausing mid-circle on your skin.

you didn’t move. couldn’t.

you weren’t sure if you’d just made a mistake.

then—

vi sat up suddenly, leaning over you, her bangs falling across her face. her eyes were wide, glowing softly in the dim light. “say it again.”

you blinked. “vi—”

“please,” she whispered, barely breathing. “just… say it one more time.”

your heart cracked open. “i love you.”

vi made a sound—something choked and beautiful—and pulled you up into her lap like you weighed nothing, arms wrapping around you so tightly you almost cried.

caitlyn sat up slower, reaching for your hand with shaking fingers. she kissed your palm once. twice. three times. “i didn’t know if we were allowed to hope for that.”

you looked at her, lips trembling. “why?”

“because you could’ve walked away the moment we changed. the moment we started growling and snarling and touching you like we’d die if we didn’t.” her voice broke. “but you stayed.”

“i stayed,” you said softly. “because i wanted to.”

vi buried her face in your neck. “say it again.”

you laughed through your tears. “i love you.”

caitlyn leaned in, forehead pressed to yours. “then let us love you forever.”

the bed was still a mess. your bodies were still sore. there was a faint bite mark on your shoulder and caitlyn had a scratch across her collarbone from where you’d clung too hard.

but none of that mattered.

you were safe.

you were wanted.

and you were theirs.

now and always.