#i think my favorites are the first and last one

[piastriprincess]

burnin’  up  (for  you  baby)  ⸻  lando  norris  x  reader  .

featuring  lando  norris  ,  best  friends  to  lovers  ,  sickfic  ,  lando  being  a  clingy  boy tw  use  of  fahrenheit  ,  illness  (non  major  but  a  lil  gross) word count  2.5k author’s note  requested  by  anon  !!  thank  you  sm  because  i  really  loved  writing  this  one  .  something  about  a  sickfic  …  very  delicious  TO  ME  !!  one  of  my  favorite  tropes  to  read  so  i  was  very  excited  to  try  it  out  for  the  first  time  .  i  hope  you  enjoy  and  as  always  let  me  know  what  you  think  ,  it  helps  me  so  much  to  get  feedback  about  what  yall  like  and  don’t  like  <3  title  is  from  burnin’  up  by  the  jonas  brothers  !

The only thing worse than experiencing a heatwave is experiencing a heatwave with a sick man blowing up your phone. 

You’re laying on your couch, as close as you can get to the air conditioning unit without actually being on top of it, when it buzzes once. Then again. By the time you shore up the energy to lift your head from the throw pillow, your phone is practically vibrating off the arm of the sofa. 

You know who’s texting you even before you check the notifications. The culprit, as always, is Lando Norris. 

[01:05 PM] help i think im dieing  [01:12 PM] coughs chills snot fever DESPAREEEEE 🤒😷🦠🌡️🤢🛌🪦 [01:13 PM] did i spell that right [01:27 PM] ignoring me. unbelieveable. what are BEST FRIENDS FOR [01:39 PM] do u think i’d look good as a ghost at least [01:42 PM] if u love me u’ll come over and bring that weird soup ur mom made up for colds

You’re about to tell him to stop being a baby and go to the pharmacy himself when two more texts flash across your screen:

[01:44 PM] okay my head is starting to proper hurt now [01:44 PM] come over please?? not joking anymore i feel realy shit [01:45 PM] i need u here

The others — those you could laugh off as your best friend’s usual dramatics. But these make you pause. You’ve known Lando for years, long enough to tell the difference between when he’s playing up his symptoms for attention and when he’s really sick. And the tone of these texts is less performative-whiny-manchild and more genuine discomfort.

You sigh. Sit up. Make a mental list of what’s in your fridge, and what you’ll need to pick up at the pharmacy, resolve crumbling the way it always does when it comes to Lando. Because he may be a baby when he’s sick, but he’s your baby. And as much as you wish your heart didn’t skip a beat when he texts you for help, as much as you wish you could ignore the way your chest tightens when he says he needs you, you’ll always show up for him. 

You’re grabbing your keys before you’ve really admitted to yourself that there was never a choice at all.

The Monaco heatwave is no joke, sun beating down and warmth unrelenting. You already feel like you’re wilting outside, but in Lando’s apartment it’s worse, if that’s even possible. The air feels stale and hot, stifling you as soon as you let yourself in. More worryingly, the flat looks completely empty, nothing but a pile of blankets on the couch with a couple discarded tissues on the ground.

“Lan?” you call, kicking off your shoes and dropping the bags on the counter, slipping the spare key he’d given you as soon as he moved in back into the inner pocket of your purse. “I brought supplies. Even got those lozenges you like because they don’t taste like medicine. Where are you?”

The pile of blankets moves slightly. Then coughs. “You came.”

“Jesus,” you hiss, making your way into the living room. Sure enough, Lando’s buried under the stack, curls plastered flat to his forehead. Despite the heat, he’s wearing a Quadrant hoodie and sweatpants, cheeks flushed crimson. “You look like shit.”

“Rude,” he croaks, voice hoarse and eyes glassy as he looks up at you. “I’m dying. This is it. This is how I go out. Can you make sure Max doesn’t post that picture of me from Ibiza last year as a remembrance? Because I know he thinks he looks good in it, but it’d be my death photo, and my hair looks sort of… wonky.”

“You’re not dying, you have a cold, you drama queen,” you say gently, placing a hand on his forehead. His skin burns beneath yours. “You do feel proper awful though, bub.”

“Told you. I wasn’t joking,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch without seeming to realize it. When you smooth the sweaty curls off his face, he makes a soft sound, almost like a purr.

You wince. “Okay. I’m gonna put the soup on the stove. You get these blankets off before you cook yourself.”

You turn to the kitchen, but Lando whines — actually whines, high and pathetic, like a kicked puppy. “Wait, no, don’t go.”

“I’m literally just going to the kitchen.”

He kicks uselessly at the pile of blankets, trying to sit up. “That’s too far.” 

You look back at the kitchen, no more than ten steps away, then wordlessly back at him.

When he pipes up again, his voice is smaller than usual, eyes are still fixed on the floor when he speaks. “Just… what if you leave?”

You soften immediately at the vulnerability. “Oh, Lan, I’m not going anywhere, I promise. But I have to get this soup started. So here’s what we’re going to do — we’re going to get you out of this hoodie and then you can come to the kitchen with me and sit at the counter and supervise. That work?”

His face brightens, and he nods so eagerly he winces and has to press a hand to his temple. “Perfect. Can’t wait to soup-ervise.”

“I’m going to regret this,” you mutter as you help him untangle from the blankets and stand up, but there’s no heat behind it. “C’mon, arms up.”

He blinks at you slowly, like his body has to catch up with his brain, and then lifts his arms like they’re moving through Jell-O. You grasp the hem delicately and start tugging it upward, but he’s dead weight, not helping at all. 

“Lan, you gotta work with me here.” The hoodie catches on his chin as you pull, and he makes a soft little noise of protest, muffled through the heavy cotton. 

“Can’t,” he mumbles weakly as you finally manage to pull the thing over his head. “Everything’s spinny.” 

You’re about to respond — probably something funny, something that will make him huff out a laugh that won’t turn into a cough — before you realize he’s shirtless underneath the hoodie. 

You’ve seen Lando shirtless countless times before, at beach trips and post-race celebrations and one very ill-advised game of strip poker with Max. And even though he’s sick, bare chest not its usual golden tan, instead flushed feverish pink with a thin sheen of sweat, the sight of it still scrambles your brain a little bit. 

“You good?” you ask, proud of the way you manage to make it come out only slightly strangled.

Lando seems completely oblivious to your sudden inability to form coherent thoughts, nodding as he sways slightly on his feet. “Better. But cold now.”

“Ridiculous. You’re like a human radiator, I can feel how hot you are from here,” you say gently, wrapping your arm around his waist, and he practically melts against your side like personal space is a concept he’s never heard of. He clings to you all the way to the kitchen, bare skin pressed against your side, palm resting low on your hip and head tipped against the slope of your neck. With the way your heart is going, at this point you think you might be closer to fainting than he is.

You try to sit him on a stool at the edge of the counter, but he frowns when he realizes you’re going to the stovetop until you pull the stool around to your side of the kitchen. Even once he’s seated, slumping against the counter, his hand never leaves yours, lacing your fingers together as you pour the broth into the saucepan. You glance back at him, expecting him to let go, but he just tugs your hand into his lap and holds it there, gaze unfocused and fever-bright.

“Lan,” you sigh. “How am I meant to make your soup like this?”

“You’ve got one hand free,” he sniffles. “That’s all a real chef should need.” 

You try to extract your hand from his, to mince the garlic, but he tightens his grip just slightly around you. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Fine,” he relents, pouting as you chop up the aromatics, grate the ginger and lemon. But the moment you’re done with the knife work, turning to the stove to add the vegetables to the broth, he’s standing behind you, arm looping unsteadily around your waist and chin pressing into your shoulder. 

“Oi,” you say, trying not to sound as ridiculously flustered as you feel. “You’re meant to be sitting. Resting. Remember?”

“I missed you,” he mumbles, skin hot through the thin fabric of your tank top. “S’been like, thirty seconds of me time over there. Thought I might die alone.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I’m your menace,” he corrects, soft and pleased. You can feel his smile against your shoulder, and no matter how many times your brain tells you not to be affected, your heart isn’t quite getting the message. So you let him stay like that while you stir, fever-warm, the weight of him pressed against you in a way you absolutely do not let yourself think about. 

Once the broth is simmering together on the stovetop, you turn back to Lando, guide him gently back to the stool. “While we wait, I need to check your temperature. Open your mouth, yeah?”

“Buy me dinner first,” he responds, cheeky as ever.

“Lando,” you say, going for stern but coming out embarrassingly fond, cheeks pink with it. 

He grins like it’s the exact reaction he was hoping to pull out of you, before he sticks out his tongue with an exaggerated sort of obedience and you place the thermometer in his mouth. While you wait for the reading to come through, you slide a cool cloth across his forehead, watching his lashes flutter shut at the contact and trying not to think about how stupidly pretty he looks even with a potential fever. 

It’s a losing battle. You’re still pretending not to notice it when Lando’s hand curls around your wrist, palm slightly clammy. “S’beeping,” he says, thermometer obscuring his speech slightly. 

“101.2,” you frown, double-checking the digital display like it might change if you stare hard enough. “Lan, you’re burning up.”

“Thanks,” he says, smiling dazedly up at you, hand still around yours. “You’re hot too.”

“Not what I meant.” It’s accompanied by an eye roll you’re using to cover up whatever frankly ridiculous thing your heart just did in your chest, halfway between a leap and a backflip. 

The timer on the stove blessedly chooses that moment to go off, and you turn to check the soup before you do something stupid like kiss him. The soup is golden, zingy with herbs, and the smell fills the kitchen with something like nostalgia. 

“Looks good,” Lando sighs dreamily, resting his chin in his hand. 

“Better than good. It’s going to fix you right up,” you reply, ladling it into a mug, because you know he likes sipping it better than using a spoon. “Drink up, yeah?”

He manages a few mouthfuls before he starts swaying on the stool again, eyelids heavy. The fever seems to be getting worse instead of better, and he’s gone from clingy to practically boneless, leaning more and more of his weight against you. 

“M’tired,” he mumbles, mug tilting precariously in his hand. You grab the cup before he spills it all over his marble floors, placing it gently on the counter as he slumps against you. 

“You need to lie down properly, bub,” you say quietly, but he’s already shaking his head. 

“Don’t wanna,” he says, words slurring together slightly. “Kitchen’s nice. You’re here.”

“I’ll still be here,” you reassure him, looping your arm around his waist and helping him stand. “But you need to get some rest and Jon’ll kill me if your back gets messed up from sleeping on this stool.”

He groans slightly but doesn’t fight you, probably too tired to argue. You lead him carefully down the hallway towards his room, trying not to trip over his feet as he shuffles beside you. He’s not talking, not exactly, just mumbling fevered half-thoughts and sleepy observations that don’t entirely make sense, but every so often he says your name so softly that it makes your chest tighten. 

By the time you get him settled into bed, curtains drawn to keep out the sun, a water glass and ibuprofen on the nightstand, and fan going full blast, even his rambling has mostly ceased. His eyes keep slipping closed, then jolting back open, like he’s trying his hardest to fight off his exhaustion. “Get some rest, Lan,” you murmur, squeezing his hand. 

He squeezes back with a surprising amount of force for someone who’s half-awake and feverish. “You have to stay.”

“I know,” you say gently. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right out there when you wake up.”

“No,” he insists, eyes fluttering open. “Here. Please.”

You should say no. If not for your immune system, for the way it will almost certainly shatter something fragile inside you to lie next to him and pretend it doesn’t mean everything. 

But he looks so small and tired — vulnerable, almost, and his thumb is tracing across your knuckles, and you’ve never been particularly good at telling him no, anyway. Not when he looks at you like that. 

“Okay,” you whisper, and the relief that floods across his face makes something in your chest give way. “Just until you fall asleep.”

He scoots over immediately, making room for you on the bed. You hesitate for a moment before you clamber in beside him. Before you can even settle properly, he’s already curling into your side, face nuzzling against your neck. Your heart thumps impossibly loud in your chest, and you wonder for a second if he can hear it through your skin. Whether he can press his ear to the pulse point at your neck and listen to the very core of your want. 

“Thanks for staying,” he whispers into your skin, flinging an arm over your waist like it’s second nature, legs tangling into yours. 

“Of course. You asked,” you reply.

“Feel better when you’re here,” he sighs, shifting impossibly closer to you until his body is pressed flush against yours. You think maybe you’ve never been this close with another person, not like this. Skin to skin, breath to breath.

“I know,” you huff out a laugh like you’re trying to turn it into a joke, quiet in the darkness of the room. “Somehow I ended up being the only person you want when you’re sick.”

“No,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, “you’re just the only person I want.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment you think your heart might actually stop beating altogether. There’s something in the way he says it, the quiet certainty, that makes you believe it. Fever doesn’t make you lie about something as important as that, after all. It just makes you brave enough to tell the truth about it.

“Lan,” you whisper, but he’s already snuggling deeper into your side, breath evening out into sleep. He looks peaceful, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. You lie there, holding him close, smile tugging at your lips. 

You don’t wake him up. Not now. You’ll have all the time in the world to figure out where the two of you stand. 

Or, you think to yourself as you sniffle for the first time, several days of sick time, at least.

[nekonaps0]

No kisses!? Pt2

✦part1

✦fem!reader

✦characters: first years

✦how would the boys react to a minor silly argument that leads to their partner refusing to kiss them for days

Ace Trappola

The Argument:

It all started with snacks.

You’d been saving the last of your favorite sweets, those limited-edition chocolate covered strawberries that vanish from the cafeteria in minutes for days. You finally placed one in the fridge with a sticky note that read:

“Mine. Touch it and die ♥”

Guess what Ace did?

He ate it.

Not because he didn’t see the note… he laughed at it, then unwrapped it.

He came sauntering into your room with the empty wrapper and a shameless grin.

“Hey, babe. That strawberries? 10 outta 10.”

Your face dropped. “You ate it?”

“…Y-Yeah?” His smirk faltered. “Wait—was that, like, a big deal?”

You crossed your arms. “It had my name on it.”

“I thought that was a joke!”

“It said die.”

“Okay… but like, in a flirty way?”

“No kisses for a week.”

“WHAT?! Babe, come on, don’t play like that!”

You didn’t play. For three days, Ace got zero kisses. Not on the cheek. Not on the forehead. Not even the usual “hey babe” lip peck between classes.

He was suffering.

Day 1:

He tries to be smooth.

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m a thief in the night. But it was just a strawberry, not your soul.”

You just raise an eyebrow. “My strawberry was my soul.”

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest. “She’s ruthless.”

Still, no kiss.

Day 2:

He tries being dramatic.

He flops dramatically on the lounge couch where you're reading.

“I’m dyin’. Deprived. Parched. Kisses are my life force.”

You glance at him. “Then maybe next time, don’t eat my life force.”

“…She’s still mad.”

Fuck…

Day 3:

He goes full Ace mode: chaos and desperation.

You open your locker to find it stuffed with chocolate covered strawberries. Like… at least twenty. All different flavored chocolate, some of which aren’t even sold on campus. Some are heart shaped. Some have your initials on them. One says:

“I messed up but your lips are my favorite dessert <3”

He's behind you with a sheepish grin, holding a hand made apology coupon that says:

“Redeemable for One Very Sorry Boyfriend Who Will Buy You Snacks Forever.”

You blink. “Ace… where did you get all these?”

“I may or may not have pestered Cater into using his phone to order every chocolate covered strawberries in a 30-mile radius.”

“So you used Cater card…You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m your ridiculous,” he says, stepping closer. “Come on, just one kiss? I promise I won’t touch your snacks again. Swear on Cater card.”

You eye him suspiciously… then finally relent, cupping his cheek.

“…You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your lips meet in a kiss that’s just a little too long for the hallway, but you don’t care. When you pull away, he grins.

“Guess I found a better flavor after all.”

“Ace.”

“What? I meant your lips—ow! Okay, okay! No more flirting until after snack hour!”

Deuce Spade

The Argument:

It all began with a bet.

Deuce, proud and competitive, was arguing with Ace during lunch over who could carry more books across campus in one trip.

You, being both concerned and amused, said gently,

"Deuce, you know your back’s going to give out trying to show off. Let Ace begin dumb and play macho."

But Deuce took that as a challenge.

He puffed out his chest. “I’m just as strong! I could carry triple that if I wanted!”

Ace, never missing a chance to stir the pot, smirked and said, “Hey, your girl doesn’t think you’ve got what it takes!!”

So Deuce, in a tragically misguided moment of pride, looked you in the eye and blurted:

“She nags me like my mom sometimes, honestly.”

…

The moment the words left his mouth, Deuce froze.

You blinked, wide eyed. “Excuse me?”

“I—! I didn’t mean—!! I just—!”

You held up a hand. “Nope. Don’t even try. No kisses for you. Not until I stop being your mom.”

Deuce turned red immediately. “No! I didn’t mean you’re like my mom—I mean—not that my mom isn’t great—but—”

Too late. You were already walking away, and Deuce was dying inside.

Day 1:

Deuce tries to fix it with logic.

“I didn’t mean ‘nag,’ I meant like, you care! You’re attentive! Loving! Supportive!”

You just sip your drink, unfazed.

“…Like my mom. But in a romantic way?? …Wait. No. That sounds weird. I take that back.”

Day 2:

He gets desperate.

He sends you a note folded. When you open it, it just says:


“You’re not like my mom. I love you. …Please don’t kill me.”

You smile. But still no kiss.

Day 3:

You catch him pacing outside your classroom like he’s preparing for a court trial. When you walk past, he jumps.

“I have a speech!”

“Oh?”

He stands straight and holds a bouquet of flowers, your favorite blooms.

“I, Deuce Spade, solemnly swear never to compare you to a maternal figure again, especially in the context of arguments involving lifting heavy objects. You’re beautiful, independent, clever, and your concern for my safety is the sweetest thing in the world. Please… can I have a kiss now?”

You eye the bouquet, the little bead of sweat on his forehead, the effort he’s clearly put in.

“…You’re lucky I like flowers.”

You tug his tie and press a kiss to his lips, catching him completely off guard. When you pull away, his face is red and dazed.

“W-Wait does that mean the ban is over?!”

“Only if you carry my books now.”

He grins. “Deal.”

Jack Howl

The Argument:

It started during training.

You were sitting on the bleachers, cheering him on while he trained with Deuce. Jack, ever the hard worker, was pushing himself harder than usual, even though he’d already pulled a muscle the day before.

You called out, “Jack, slow down! You’re going to make your injury worse!”

But instead of stopping, he growled back:

“I can handle it. I don’t need you telling me how to train.”

…

Silence.

You slowly lowered the water bottle in your hand. “Oh. Okay then.”

Jack froze, ears twitching. But by the time he turned around, you were already walking away with your head held high.

“No kisses for stubborn wolves,” you muttered.

Day 1:

Jack thought maybe you'd cool off.

You did not.

You gave him your usual warm smile… but when he leaned down for a kiss after walking you to class, you just patted his head like a dog.

His tail drooped.

Day 2:

Jack tried to apologize.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he muttered after practice. “You were just worried, and I acted like a jerk.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? But you’re a big boy, you know what you doing so it’s better if I keep my mouth shut.”

His ears dropped. “I need you to care. I like that you do. I just… I didn’t want you to think I’m weak.”

You gave him a thoughtful nod… but when he leaned in again… no kiss.

Just a smug little smile from you.

“Then be strong and take your punishment, big boy.”

Day 2 after school:

Jack snapped.

He cornered you by your locker after school, his tail puffed up and wagging with nervous energy.

“I don’t care if you’re still mad… well, I do… but listen,” he said quickly. “I wanna be the one who keeps you safe and you can rely on. I wanna be strong for you and I don’t want you to worry about a thing, specially about me. I want to be the only one you kiss. Not having your affection is is pretty annoying...”

You laughed, arms folded. “Maybe you shouldn’t have acted like a lone wolf then. I care about you because I love you. You don’t have to do everything by yourself, we’re a team.”

He growled lightly, more of a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry...”

Your heart melted. You reached up and tugged his shirt gently.

“You big puppy.”

You kissed him sweetly, and his tail wagged like mad behind him.

When you pulled back, he grinned wide and whispered, “You forgave me?”

“Mhmm. But you’re not allowed to train injured anymore.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Epel Felmier

The Argument:

You were both sitting together under a tree outside NRC after classes, sharing apple slices and talking about the upcoming school event. Epel was getting visibly annoyed about the event’s dress code, especially since Vil was insisting the boys wear tailored suits.

You giggled and said, “You’ll look cute in a suit, though. You always look good. I trust in Vil taste.”

That’s when Epel, clearly embarrassed, blurted: “I ain’t tryin’ to look cute, alright?! I ain’t some doll for you to dress up! Is it really that hard to understand?!”

You blinked at him, your smile dropping just slightly. “Oh. Okay then.”

You stood up, brushing your skirt off. “Just to be clear, I don’t see you as a doll I just tried to compliment you. Then sorry, maybe you don’t need my affection.”

“No—wait—!! I didn’t mean you, I meant—!”

Too late. You were already walking off, apple slice in hand, lips sealed literally from that moment on.

Day 1:

Epel pouted all through lunch. He scooted close to you, bumping your shoulder.

“C’mon… I didn’t mean it like that.”

You turned your head, putting an apple slice in his mouth, no kisses, no sweetness.

He stared at the apple like it personally betrayed him.

Day 2:

You found a folded note in your locker. It smelled faintly apple. It said:

“Sorry for being a dang idiot. You can call me cute. You can call me whatever you want. Can we be good again? I’ll even wear the stupid tie Vil gave me.”

You smiled… but you still didn’t kiss him.

Epel screamed into his pillow that night.

At that point Rook and Vil started to worry about him…

Day 3:

He snapped.

You opened your dorm room to find Epel standing there in the most overly cute outfit you’d ever seen. Matching suspenders, a ruffled bowtie, and a little hat balanced on his head, from Vil or someone.

“Alright! Fine! I’m adorable! Are you happy now?!” he shouted, cheeks blazing pink. “I’ll be the damn poster boy for cute if it means you forgive me!”

You just stand there… in pure shock… then burst out laughing… he looked so grumpy and pouty, yet dressed like a fairytale boy.

“You’re ridiculous, I love you the way you are, I didn’t have to do that” you said between giggles. “Omg my stomach hurts!”

“I’ am feeling ridiculous right now!” he grumbled. “It’s been three days. You been denying affection from me for THREE DAYS LONG”

You took a step closer, cupped his face, and kissed him slowly, sweet and warm.

He melted into it, hat falling off.

“About time,” he sighed, finally relaxing. “Next time I say somethin’ stupid, just kiss me to shut me up, alright?”

You smiled. “Deal.”

Sebek Zigvolt

The Argument:

It all started with Malleus…

Sebek, as always, was ranting with pride about his Young Master’s brilliance while the two of you were walking together after class. You loved that he was passionate… but it had been half hour straight of Malleus this, Malleus that, and you finally said:

“I know you love Malleus, Sebek, but you’re dating me, remember?” You chuckled lightly.

He whipped around with wide eyes. “I—HOW DARE YOU COMPARE YOURSELF TO THE YOUNG MASTER—!!”

You blinked. “So I’m not even equal to him?”

“I—THAT ISN’T WHAT I MEANT—YOU’RE MISINTERPRETING—!!”

You huffed, stepping away. “Fine. Then maybe you should ask Mal for kisses for now on, no kisses for you.”

Sebek, red in the face and fuming, yelled after you, “DO NOT PUNISH ME WITH AFFECTIONAL WITHDRAWAL!”

(Malleus sneezing somewhere)

Day 1:

He was twitchy. Pacing. Overly stiff in class. Every time your eyes met, he seemed to expect you to smile and kiss his cheek like usual, and every time you didn’t, he bit his lips in frustration, followed by him shouting internally.

Lilia smirked at him during lunch.

“Trouble in paradise, Sebek?”

“IT IS A TEMPORARY DOMESTIC CHALLENGE!”

Oh yeah… Lilia enjoys the show

Day 2:

He stood in front of your dorm room door with a bouquet of oddly aggressive looking green flowers and a hand written letter that began with:

“To My Most Dazzling, Fierce, and Noble Beloved (Who is Definitely Not Inferior to the Young Master)…”

He knocked like a soldier reporting for duty. When you opened the door, he held the flowers out like a weapon and declared,

“YOUR IMPORTANCE TO ME TRANSCENDS RANK, STATUS, AND EVEN ROYALTY! NOW PLEASE—FOR THE LOVE OF THE GREAT SEVENS, FORGIVE ME!”

You took the flowers and smiled. “Nope.” Then you closed the door.

He made a sound like a kicked puppy…

Day 3:

You walked into the training room and found Sebek mid monologue… to a sparring dummy… rehearsing what he’d say to you. Loudly. Passionately.

You leaned against the doorframe and listened.

“…AND EVEN IF I HAVE SWORN MY LIFE TO THE YOUNG MASTER, IT IS YOU WHO I THINK OF BEFORE I SLEEP! IT IS YOU WHO MAKES MY HEART BEAT LIKE A WAR DRUM!”

You snorted softly. “Wow. That dummy must feel so loved.”

Sebek turned around, looking like he wanted to sink through the floor.

“I—I didn’t know you were—!”

You marched over and kissed him hard, shutting him up mid-rant.

He short-circuited. When you pulled away, his entire face was pink.

“Apology accepted,” you teased. “But next time, remember, words are important, Sebek.”

He nodded so fast it was dizzying. “I SHALL NEVER FAIL YOU AGAIN!”

“And maybe… tone down the volume a little next time.”

“…sorry…”

..............................................................................................................................

[svmjaeyvn]

NIGHTS LIKE THIS — 박종성

MINORS DNI ! IM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CONSUME

You’d never consider yourself a smoker, hell, last year you couldn’t even bare the smell of weed that lingered on your cousins’ clothes after a night out. But one night of feeling adventurous turned into many, and now you found yourself being your plug's favorite sweetheart. You didn’t even care that Park Jongseong was a notorious asshole to everyone, considering it was everyone but you. Besides, there’s no way you’d pass up having your plug be your friends with benefits, especially when it came with way more than you’d imagined.

pairing — stoner+plug!jay x semi-stonerfem!reader, college/ya au

word count -- 22k (oops?)

featuring — stoner!enha hyung line, enha!maknae line as your nosey neighbors and juniors, manon and lara from katseye as your besties (LUV), and (1) keeho mention for shits and giggles

content/warnings — weed smoking (duh), partying, alcohol, profanity, loads of sexual innuendos + casual convos about sex cause they’re adults!, heeseung as your annoying ass older cousin, jay being the plug-turned-close friend bc of heeseung, lots of sex or sexual tension the entire time, mentions of jay being an asshole but you never see it bc you’re a princess, unprotected sex (oops), public-ish sex?? (at a party, in the car, fucking while on the phone, etc.), throat fucking (ish), sloppy head (m&f receiving), lots of pet names (princess, baby, love, pretty girl, etc.), reader referred to as slut one time (endearing lol), creampies, fucking under the influence, possessive/jealous jay (A LOT cause i love a possessive fictional man), messy situationship, sort of toxic dynamic at first, (1) scene of vaping/smoking with riki, reader has her faults let her live!, one almost fight scene between guys, jay fell first and harder (hell yeah), reader is a BADDIE (ass fat, big tits and nipple piercings yuh), reader is described as conventionally attractive and small

note — don’t like it? don’t read it! full disclosure, my dabble into smoking is, like, minimal so i’m mostly talking out of my ass but the concept of jay lighting a blunt in my mouth is teeew good to NOT write about. this was originally made to be a short drabble but i dont know how to stfu so here we are (this took me 2 months to write, it was supposed to come out on 4/20 lol). tbh the smoking plotline got lost in the midst of minimal angst and fluff but i promise desperate cutesy jay is worth everything. please enjoy <3

“You’re sick,” Riki grimaces, eyes following you as you pause in front of your full length mirror. “Sick in the head,” He continues, you leaning closer to ensure your lipgloss wasn’t smudged in the slightest and hair flowed the way you wanted.

“You realize that Jay’s literally seen you at your worst, right? Like before you decided he was hot and shit you looked like a troll here at the house,” Heeseung adds with a snort, leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed. You meet his gaze through the mirror, a sarcastic smile sent his way as you flip him off through the reflection.

“We’re going to a party,” You remind, deflecting how much effort you put into the look rather than the majority of it being to impress the practically household name that belongs to Park Jongseong. “Besides, he likes this skirt and gives me stuff for free so this would actually benefit you too, idiot,”

Heeseung pauses, thinking over the fact that even with the long-term friend discount, Jay practically gave you whatever you asked for these days with little to no charge. Biting his tongue for once, he nods, but that doesn’t erase the obvious annoyance and discomfort he felt thinking about you and one of his best friends being together.

Riki shakes his head, laid on your bed petting the short-haired cat that was curled into his side. Said boy was a part of the trio that lived next door to your apartment, Nishiurma Riki, the one you and Heeseung called over to feed your shared pets and watch them for a while on the nights you planned on being out for long.

He had no problem with it, especially with the easy money he gained and the fact that the two of you always left enough for him to order in on top of that. Thus he was familiar with the sight, one he’s been having to see unfold more and more recently.

What he did have a problem with was you getting involved with Park Jongseong in the first place. You were smart, pretty, and admittedly a crazy bitch, but you were one of the first people who he actually felt at home with aside from Jungwon and Sunoo.

And sure, Jay wasn’t that bad. Hell, he allows Riki to speak Japanese openly and keeps up, though sometimes slow and tripping over his words, but still allows him to feel comfortable speaking his native language. But Jay also sold weed as a pastime and had a track record of being the biggest asshole when something pissed him off. Not that he’s actually seen it quite yet but still, you deserved the best.

Not that Riki would actually ever voice his opinion on it, after all it was your life and you were an adult. Besides, Sunoo and Jungwon made their comments enough to tell you their not quite distaste but not quite liking of him even though your circles rarely overlapped on occasion.

“Are you done? Jake says they’re pulling up,” Heeseung pulls your attention away from the reflection where you had just finished clasping your last layered necklace. You gave yourself a once over, a smile of satisfaction quirking at the corners of your lips as you turned around.

“Let’s go,” You hum, slinging the thin jacket over your shoulders for minimal protection from the cold outside air. You spared a look to Riki before you exited the room, shooting the younger boy a wink as your voice lingered through the walls bidding your goodbyes to him and the cats for the night.

You could hear Heeseung’s footsteps follow, you waiting at the front door for him to open it per routine and you nearly jumping coming inches apart from a rather giddy looking Jake. There was a slight gleam to his look, notably already started on his pregame and a few strands fallen from his almost perfectly styled hair from his habit of running his hands through it.

Jake practically bounced on the heels of his feet, a sloppy smile playing at his lips as he pulled a familiar thin white tube from his pocket. “Hoon’s not drinking but he’s down for a smoke, you guys want in on this one?”

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“There she is!” Lara giggles, an arm thrown around your shoulders pulling you in for a hug with her words somehow louder than the blaring music that came from the speakers in the house. “Bitch, where have you been? It’s soo late,”

“It’s barely 9,” You snort, stumbling a bit to uphold her weight seeing how rather fucked up she already seemed so early on. “We just got here, you been drinking for a minute?”

“Manon and I might’ve gone a little crazy while pregaming,” Lara admits, the cup in her hand sloshing around with unfamiliar contents of alcohol. “Midterms have been a bitch, I needed this. But trust, I’m good—nowhere near throwing up yet,”

“Guess we gotta catch up,” Heeseung’s voice interrupts from behind. You noted the way Lara suddenly stood up straighter, and the stupid smile Heeseung was notorious for causing you to roll your eyes with a grimace.

“Don’t touch her,” You warn, waggling a finger at Heeseung while he lets out a laugh. You turn to Lara next as she pouts, “He’s gross, you’re drunk, trust me you’ll regret it,”

You excused yourself to make your way to the kitchen, the layout of the frat house familiar considering you’ve been here more times than you could count for parties. You bid friendly smiles and short greetings to the familiar faces, settling into the line of alcohol to choose from in the coolers filled with ice and a huge jug of jungle juice you wouldn’t dare think of trying.

You peeked into the fridge, smiling seeing the bottles of pineapple juice you begged Keeho to buy earlier in the day when he asked what drinks the frat should provide for the night. Perks of being friends with a member, you got to make yourself sweet drinks that tasted good and fucked you up at the same time.

Just as you finished pouring a generous amount of tequila into a new solo cup, you felt a hand find its place on your hip and the familiar smell of cologne that filled your senses that you’ve grown rather fond of.

“Hi princess,” Jay’s voice fluttered against the shell of your ear, the heat of his breath causing a chill to run up your spine and stupidly annoying smile to appear at your lips.

“Hi Jay,” You repeat, not bothering to spare him a look quite yet. You topped off your drink with juice to the brim, turning in your spot in his arms that kept you encased against the counter. You brought the drink to your lips, taking a sip and maintaining eye contact with him as you did.

“You look pretty,” He compliments, eyes flickering down to your lips as you hum. You held the cup up, Jay taking a small sip and chuckling at the excessive amount of liquor you had poured into the half-assed cocktail.

“Too strong?”

He shook his head, one hand squeezing your hip and the other tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as it fell out of place. “You know I don’t drink much,”

You hummed again, taking a longer drink this time and feeling the familiar burn down your throat. “You been waiting for me?” You tease, knowing well enough Jay was at practically every party on campus due to it being his best selling grounds.

But he nods, a laugh leaving his lips and you smile at the sight. A few months ago it would’ve been a rare occasion to even see him crack a smile at any of the stupid jokes the guys made, it felt good knowing how easy it was for you to see an even prettier sight of him now.

“Of course I have,” His voice is warm, the words teasing but there was a certain glint in his eyes as he scanned over every little detail of your face, almost as if he were memorizing a picture in his mind. “You get all dressed up f’me?”

“Of course I did,” You repeat, half hearted but his lips quirked at your words anyway. Just as he was about to speak again, a loud voice broke the bubble the two of you were in, reminding you of the loud music and numerous bodies that flowed about.

“Hey! I've been looking for you. You still got anything on you man?” An obnoxiously unfamiliar guy barreling toward you caused you to grimace. Obviously intoxicated, and probably far too drunk to get cross-faded at this point, you shrink away from Jays’ hold to allow him to do his business.

“Nah man,” Jay’s words were short, to the point and he barely spared the guy a look as his hand on your hip squeezed gently—a silent gesture for you to stay put.

“What? C’mon man it’s barely gonna be 10? No way you’re out—” The guy persisted, slurring his words and swaying in his spot. One of his hands came up to grab onto Jay’s shoulder while the other nearly dropped his opened seltzer right where you stood.

You stiffened, ready to push the clearly drunk loser away from you if he fell but you didn’t have to. Jay used one arm, shoving the guy back a few stumbled steps with a bored expression while the other hand didn’t let go of the protective hold he had on you.

“I’m out,” Is all he says. His jaw clenched, emphasizing his already prominent jawline and eyes sharp, practically daring the guy to push for more.

Even drunk, he seemed to take the hint. A short mumble of something along the lines of muttered insults were heard before you and Jay were left alone once more. And you snickered, giggling at the sight of the stumbling drunkard who made his way back to his group of friends who were expectantly waiting on his return.

“You alright?” Jay asked after a beat of silence, eyes running over your figure while you nod. He visibly relaxed, a smile quirking at his lips as he leaned in slightly. “You smoking tonight, pretty girl?”

You laughed, “Thought you were out?”

“I always have something for you,” He smirks, hand lacing with your own and beginning to pull you toward the back door that leads outside.

“For how much?”

Jay glances over his shoulder to send you a pointed look. “Don’t ask stupid questions,” He scoffs, nearly offended considering he hasn’t charged you in months. The only time you gave him money recently was for Heeseung who paid you for it in the first place.

“You’re letting me rob you at this point Jjong,” You snicker, goosebumps forming at the skin exposed on your legs from the chilly outside air that your mini skirt did nothing to combat against.

He doesn’t say anything, though you noticed the small quirk of his lips that he attempted to bite back. Jay pulls the two of you to the far end of the yard, numerous chairs spread around the pool unoccupied as it was growing colder with the seasons changing leaving the outside of the house with only a few lingering groups who talked amongst themselves.

He settles into a seat, dragging you down onto his lap rather than the empty chair directly beside his own. You raise a brow, refraining from a remark at how he couldn’t get enough of you considering you’ve grown to love how clingy he got at times. One of your arms draped over his shoulder, your legs perched across his own and he held you steady allowing for your weight to be leant against him with an arm encasing you to his chest.

Jay pulled a familiar baggie from his pocket, there only being two near perfectly rolled joints. He plucked one out, hand dipping into his pocket once more to pull out his lighter and tucking the remaining one away for now.

Wordlessly, he holds it up to your lips with one hand causing you to pout. “I have gloss on,” You remind, moving your head away while he sends you a bored look.

“When have I cared about shit like that?” He snickers. “It’s just me and you princess, not like you’re sharing with a group,” Jay reminds, eyes holding your own as you scrunch your nose. 

Jay lets out a breathy laugh before pulling you closer as he grips your chin, guiding your lips to his own. Your lips meet, a small gasp leaving your mouth out of surprise at the sudden contact and you could feel the cocky smile that formed on his features. Your hand found his hair, playing with the longer strands while rolling your hips in the slightest manner.

He pulled back, holding you in place with a pointed look as if telling you to behave. You smiled, thumb dragging over his bottom lip to remove the shine that transferred over from yours.

“Making me ruin your pretty make up,” Jay mumbles with a playful tsk, holding the joint up once more while you hum. Your lips wrapped around the tip, just enough to hold it while his other hand uses the lighter to spark it. He held the flame just enough for the paper to ignite, you sucking in a long hit to ensure the spliff would stay burning.

You held it for a moment, inhaling the smoke before turning your head the other way to not blow it directly in Jays’ face. You hear his laugh, knowing that you didn’t tend to like starting the first hit and you faced him with a roll of your eyes.

You watched him take a long drag, one that never failed to make you wonder how he didn’t end up coughing more but then again, he’s been smoking a lot longer than you. Jay could feel your eyes lingering on him longer than they should’ve, his second inhale shorter but he blew the smoke in your face this time after meeting your gaze.

You shook your head, hand gently pushing his face away from your own as his laugh filtered through the air between you. He holds out the joint for you to grab, careful to not drop it considering your nails were longer than usual thanks to your fresh set and Manon encouraging you to do long rather than medium this time.

You took a comfortable puff while glancing around the backyard. You looked toward the house, half a mind to remember to check on Jake soon considering he was probably the most fucked up by now.

“You come with the guys, right?”

You nod. “Sunghoon’s the DD for the night,” Cheeks blowing out a notable breath due to the cold air as you tilted your head back with a sigh. “Jake was already on a good one before we left, had two joints in the car… which I assume he got from you?”

Jay lets out a breathy laugh, the sound causing your gaze to fall back on him feeling the small shrug he did. “Gave him a couple extra the other day but I guess he held onto them for tonight,”

A beat of silence passed over you two, your eyes scanning his side profile as Jay draws small circles with his hand on your hip. You pass back the slow burning joint to him, taking a sip of the cold drink in your hand which caused you to shiver.

“Why’d you start selling?” Your question lingered in the air between you. You’ve never asked, because quite frankly, you never cared. Hell, it wasn’t like Jay was the deep type that went through the why’s and what if’s in his life much anyway.

Plus, everyone in his circle knew him, so why talk about the shitty situations he’s put himself through more than needed? It wasn’t healthy, obviously, but he was also a guy who had friends that didn’t get emotional with each other unless drunk around a fire at 3am.

But you were you, Heeseung’s loud mouth younger cousin that infiltrated the group's lives two years ago when you came to live with him for uni. He’d seen you at your worst already, be it first thing in the morning or late at night off a drunken escapade having to be carried home and slung over the toilet for hours on end.

He knew you, and you knew him, but neither of you actually cared aside from the superficial bond between you two that Heeseung bridged.

Well until a few months ago when whatever this was started to occur. It took one night, an utterly helpless you who flunked your econ class that led to you and Jay in a room together at a party much like this. Your first smoke, one that you begged for and he only gave in after you shoved a crumpled wad of cash — that he snuck back into your purse that night, into his hands because he felt bad.

Because you were you, and he’d never seen you look so miserable before. It was just supposed to be an excuse for him to let you rant, let you indulge in whatever turmoil shit you had going on that you refused to tell Heeseung out of your own ego.

But it wasn’t that simple, not after you spilled every last worry to him as if he were a paid therapist and he realized that you were a dramatic overthinking kid hours away from anyone and everything familiar. So maybe it was pity, or maybe it was the sprout of attraction that misguided his judgment, but one night of self indulgence led to many.

And at some point instead of you sitting across the room from him, you were perched beside him. Ghost smiles and gentle touches turned to sharing seats with one another til at some point, whenever you were together Jay couldn’t keep his hands off you.

“Money,” He says simply, the words clipped in an obvious manner to not ask more. You purse your lips, a slight sting felt from his blunt way to keep you at a distance. You felt like he should’ve given you a little credit, hell he’s been in you a handful of times now, having a decent conversation aside from weed, sex, and alcohol seemed reasonable to you.

When you didn’t respond, Jay took note of the silence that followed. The way you didn’t bother to spare him a look, seemingly finding the open night sky more fascinating than him and taking long sips of your drink that continued to melt as time passed.

Jay watched you, the slight annoyance overshadowed once he noticed your pout. He shook his head, adjusting in his seat with you still perched on his lap as his arms snaked around your waist. “C’mon pretty, don’t get like that. We don’t need to talk about useless shit,”

He mumbled the words against your skin, placing a lazy kiss to your shoulder while you shifted against him. Jay chuckles, a hand softly but firmly moving your chin to look at him. “Can’t have my girl mad at me,”

“I’m not your girl, Jay,” You mutter, attempting to pull your head away but he tsks, fingers gripping the sides of your face and holding you steady. His eyes held a certain look, cocky and taunting as he leaned closer.

“Wanna bet?”

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“What’s wrong, baby?” Jay hummed, laughter bubbling through his words as he forced your head up with the grip he held on the base of your hair. His eyes met yours through the mirror, teeth grazing up your neck, making sure to leave a mark while his hips pressed your own into the bathroom counter.

Your skirt was hiked up, lace panties pushed to the side and your tits bounced with each thrust from where Jay had yanked your shirt down. The metal of your piercings glistened every bounce, your nipples fully erect and sensitive every time Jay’s fingers rolled the buds. Your mascara smudged, hair in disarray from Jay’s yanking, forcing you to watch the way he fucked himself into you. Muffled music blared throughout the house, the occasional knock on the door letting you know you had an audience but Jay didn’t care, not after you practically begged him to show you who you belonged to earlier like it was a cute joke.

Your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth, muffling your moans out of your own ego but also so the line waiting outside didn’t have more of a clue of the fact that you were getting put in your place—although Jay had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t going to be out until he was done after the third knock.

“You should know better by now,” Jay continued, the heat of his breath lingered against your skin. His palm placed a harsh smack to your ass that bounced against him, the hit causing you to hiss while he smirked. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your hips surely to leave a mark, Jay let out a gruntled groan as your walls clenched around him, your body showing how much you liked it even if you were giving him the silence treatment to prove a point. “Pussy knows who you belong to already, you’re made f’me and she knows it,”

“Fuck off,” You manage out, eyes screwed shut feeling the way Jay’s dick kissed your cervix with every deep thrust. There was only one other time the sex you had was like this, rough and possessive, Jay fed up with your drunken behavior that led to you flirting with another guy at a party after a small fight between you two.

He was definitely rougher that time, dragging you into his car and fucking you dumb after making you repeat like a mantra how your body was only for him to touch as long as he was around. You loved it, your body reacting to his touch proving it without you even saying a word.

“So mean baby,” Jay tsks, words mumbled with faux offense. He manages to press himself deeper into you, the curve of his dick hitting just right as a moan left your lips before you could stop it. “Fuuck, there you go, ‘was missing those pretty little noises you make,”

You let out muffled whimpers, head falling forward and desperately trying to keep quiet but you couldn’t. Not with the feeling of Jay hitting you just right every time, not when he reached around to rub his thumb against your clit, your mind going fuzzy and legs growing wobbly to where he had to wrap his arm around your waist and keep you steady.

“So tight baby,” Jay breathes out, a sloppy open mouthed kiss pressed to your shoulder. “You’re takin’ me so well,”

The lewd sounds of your skin slapping echoed throughout the acoustics of the bathroom. If you weren’t slightly intoxicated you might’ve had half a mind to tell Jay to stop being so loud, you probably would’ve convinced him to find a room in the first place. But you didn’t, and god did you not care about anyone else right now.

Your head falls to his shoulder, moans now overtaking the sounds of your bodies and Jay fingers continue the assault on your clit with his growing sloppy pace. He connects your lips, half a mind to shut you up but couldn’t deny the ego boost of his name falling from your mouth.

The tight pull in your stomach tensed, Jay’s grip on your hip leaving fingerprints in your skin. “Fuck, Jay, please,” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush between the sloppy kisses. He hummed against your lips, his smile felt as he picked up the pace. His other hand trailed up your waist, pinching at your erect nipple and rolling the piercing, the sight far too pretty and he was grateful for the past you who decided to pierce them in the first place.

You clenched around him, your pussy sucking him in as you rode out your own orgasm, eyes screwed shut and mind fuzzy. His thumb rubbed your clit at a consistent pace until it became overstimulating, you pushed him away lazily and he bent you over the sink to finish.

“Such a good girl my love,” Jay praised, voice low and strained as his head dips back. “So good,” He muttered, continuing with a few more deep thrusts before he pulled out just enough so his tip spilled his warm cum onto your ass, not quite inside but all over your hole that clenched at the loss of him. You could see him smile through the mirror, heavy breaths of satisfaction and a slight gleam of sweat covered his honey skin in the light.

His eyes met yours, the smirk on his lips only growing once he pushed his tip back inside momentarily, you letting out a loud moan feeling the remnant of his cum pushed deep inside you to drip out later.

He pulled you up, dick still buried inside and you could feel the last few twitches of his cock against your walls. The warmth was overwhelming, he hadn’t came inside you directly, but made sure to push enough in after the initial few shots to prove a point. You were on the pill, and Jay would most likely get you one tomorrow either way, but he was a cocky bastard who simply wanted his cum to drain out of you for the rest of the night either way.

“You okay?” He asks softly, a small but innocent kiss placed on your shoulder. His hands softly grazed over your body, adjusting your shirt and brushing the astray strands of hair from your face that stuck to your sweat. You nodded, far too fucked out to say anything and still in a daze from your own orgasm. “What, you don’t got any other smart ass remarks now?”

You rolled your eyes, turning your head ever so slightly to meet his gaze properly. “Shut up,” You mumble, lip tucked between your teeth as you playfully tsked. Jay laughed, placing a chaste kiss to your lips in the process. “Now clean me up, we have a walk of shame to do and a line of pissed off drunk people to see,”

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“I peed in a bush, you sick fucks,” Manon huffs, eyes narrowed at you from across the table where she was slumped over her books. You rolled your eyes, biting back your smile of amusement as memories of last Friday flicker in your mind.

Lara giggles to your left, nudging her shoulder into your own with a suggestive smile. “I support women’s wrongs, good for you for getting dick by one of the hottest guys on campus,”

“Ah yes, because we want you to be a druglord's wife once we graduate,” Manon snorts, the statement one that caused you to burst out in a fit of laughter, baffled by the sudden upgrade of distaste to this.

“You’re so dramatic,” Lara rolls her eyes.

“He sells weed, it’s not like he’s a kingpin, Mon,” You snicker. “Seung told me he’s gonna stop soon too I guess, ‘cause ya know, we’re gonna graduate at some point. I know you guys think he’s just a pothead but he is prelaw and on track with summa cum laude,”

“Every time you tell us that, I think it’s ironic considering he’s selling weed, illegally, to minors a lot of the time ,” Manon emphasized, leaning back in her seat as she played with the ends of her braids absentmindedly.

You purse your lips with a small shrug. You weren’t together, technically, and you weren’t required to defend him to quite literally everyone around you because of his reputation, but it was growing a little old hearing how much your friends disliked him. Sure it wasn’t a great relationship, but you weren’t sitting there begging him to be your boyfriend in some one-sided situationship.

Jay treated you well, better than he owed you considering you were fuck buddies more than anything. At no point did you expect anything, not more than you were willing to give, and to be quite honest, you didn’t want a relationship. You had no actual responsibility, no mental need to be mindful of another person when you barely kept yourself afloat these days.

You didn’t have to see him everyday, you didn’t have to remember to text back, and you sure as hell didn’t have to care about his feelings when you weren’t together. But it was your choice to keep him around, and honestly, you loved the way he acted to your beck and call when needed.

Lara, seemingly catching the subtle shift in your mood, cleared her throat. She nudged her shoulder into your own, a soft smile of quiet reassurance before she changed the topic entirely. You nodded, engaging in small conversation but your mind was elsewhere as you scribbled random drawings in the corner of your notebook.

Your phone buzzed from the tabletop, you picking it up while the two continued to talk unaware.

jjong<3: busy?

y/nnie: why you missing me already?

jjong<3: always

jjong<3: let me take you out for the night

y/nnie: hm fine. at the study hall, come get me🥱

You click off your phone, beginning to gather your things into your bag in order. Manon and Lara watched you, both silently sending each other looks but knowingly choosing to not say a word. And like clockwork, your head picked up to see Jay’s familiar figure stepping in through the entry doors.

His hair was messily slicked back, once done perfectly but had a hand run through it throughout the day. You rose a brow at the business casual look he was sporting–dark slacks, a black button up, and dress shoes with his bag slung over his shoulder, presumably just finished up with whatever assignment his class required for him to dress up for.

You spared a look to your friends who had followed your line of view. You smiled innocently, bidding them a halfhearted goodbye. “Sorry girls, I’m off to self-sabotage and let my walking red flag take me out for the night,” You wink, partially joking but the slight annoyance from the conversation seeped into your words.

You didn’t stay for their responses and sure remarks of you ditching the unprompted study session you were in the midst of. Instead you waltzed your way to Jay who met you halfway, a small smirk quirked at the corner of his lips as he gave you a once over, his eyes slow and deliberate.

“I’m gonna stop you right now,” You cleared your throat as soon as you were in talking range, a hand held up to create distance between you. “You’re not getting any sex from me tonight, Park Jongseong. Take it or leave it,” You state bluntly, you regretting it as soon as the words left your lips though once you got an up close view of him, the thought of unbuckling his belt and seeing his come undone in his formal attire flickering through your mind.

Jay raises a brow, head tilting in the smallest of ways as his eyes narrow at you. He takes a second, gaze searching your own for a moment. “I’m not that bad for you to assume that’s all I want you for, am I?” He chuckles, words meant to be joking but you felt the slight offense hidden in his expression.

You shrug, breaking his gaze suddenly embarrassed for insinuating. Sure your relationship was mainly sex, but Jay wasn’t that shallow to leave you just because you didn’t want to do anything, he was your sort of friend-by-association before anything.

Maybe everyone being in your ear emphasizing how you were basically a free use doll was starting to get to you.

He stays silent for a moment, you still avoiding his gaze and shifting your arms across your front uncomfortably. Jay sighs, rolling his eyes half-heartedly as he closes the space between you. “Stop overthinking whatever shits making your pretty little head spin,” He mutters, dragging the strap of your bag off your shoulder and instead slinging it over his own to carry. Jay then grabs hold of your hand, gently lacing your fingers and beginning to guide you out of the student center.

“For the record, I never expect anything from you whenever we see each other,”

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Your shoulder brushed against his arm every so often, sandwiched between Jay’s broad shoulders and the wall as he insisted on sitting on the same side of the tiny booth you sat at. Tucked away in the corner of the small Thai place you found a few weeks ago, the low lighting created a cozy ambiance with delicious aroma flowing throughout the fairly busy restaurant.

Jay was leant against the tabletop, body angled toward you and arm draped across the seats, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair absentmindedly. The orders of spring rolls, fried rice, and pad sew half eaten, both of you fed and engaging in small conversation.

After a lingering beat of silence, Jay lets out a long, frustrated, groan. His head tilts back, adam’s apple bobbing and jawline prominent. “Alright, what’s up doll?”

“Huh?”

Jay gave you a bored look, eyes trailing over you, studying your features as if he knew everything about you. “You’re thinking about something,” He mutters, his thumb pressing gently to your forehead to release the tension of your pinched brows you were unaware of. “What’s going on in that pretty little head?”

You shrug, turning your attention toward your plate and pushing around the few bites you hadn’t finished from before. The fork softly scraped against the porcelain, the sound causing you to wince. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re bad for me, and I’m getting tired of hearing it,”

Jay doesn’t respond at first, instead he scoffs, the light laugh that followed didn’t feel as nonchalant as it was supposed to. His eyes watch you, your gaze focused through the shop windows avoiding him. Your hands toyed with each other, shoulders dropping once you let out a long breath.

“It’s annoying, you know? We’re not even together, so I don’t get why it matters. And you’re not as bad as everyone makes you out to be,” You ramble, brows pinched once more growing seemingly annoyed as you speak. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want a relationship with you. I’m perfectly fine with what we have going on but everyone’s in my ear about us being together or not and it’s just like, a girl can want a casual fuck too, you know? Besides, you may be an asshole sometimes but the frat guys are ten times worse with no provoking. So I don’t know why everyone thinks you’re so bad for me like I’m a kid who doesn’t know any better. I’m an adult, actively making decisions, one including the friends with benefits thing we have so why is it so bad?”

Jay watched you for a moment, the way your shoulders tensed, the way you began to wave your hands around as you spoke, your lips pulled into a pout unknowingly. He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of his lips, your words registered but held little importance to him where he stood in the predicament you found yourself in.

“Even if I were the perfect guy for you, everyone would have something to say eventually,” He shrugs, words stated so simply while you broke your simmering anger to give him a confused look. “You’re choosing this, I’m choosing you. Who cares what everyone thinks?”

You falter, shoulders shrinking not knowing what to say. Your lips part, a loss for words as you blink. “I don’t,” You stutter. “Not necessarily, it’s just, don’t you get tired of everyone asking if we’re dating?”

Jay shrugs, leaning back against the booth as he takes a sip of his drink. “Everyone knows you’re mine,”

You roll your eyes. “That, that’s the point,” You tsk. “We’re not together, Jongseong, you can’t keep feeding that theory by saying shit like that. We’re fucking exclusively out of respect for one another, not because we’re boyfriend-girlfriend. Your ‘claim’ on me can only go so far,” You ramble, arms folding across your front. “You can’t call me your girl with your whole chest like that. Just because we know each other physically and have a surface level relationship, doesn’t mean we’re anywhere near this imaginary couple everyone thinks we are,”

“We’re not together because you don’t want us to be,” Jay says through a clipped tone, words stated with an obvious edge while you gave him an incredulous look. He met your gaze, his steady and certain, a slight annoyance in his expression while your mind ran over analyzing in denial of the confession.

“Wh-what’re you talking about?”

“I’ve never said I was opposed to an actual relationship with you, our dynamic is the way that it is on your own accord,” He states bluntly. “We’ve been at this for months, if you were just a fuck and dump I would’ve been gone a long time ago, you know that,” Jay emphasized, still refusing to shift his piercing gaze from your own.

You had nothing to say. You couldn’t at least, not once did you overthink your relationship, not once did you allow any sort of delusional feelings fester out of your own pride. The thought of being a cliche girl left heartbroken far too embarrassing, not to mention you truly knew nothing about each other when it came down to it.

“We don’t even know each other,” You breathe out, lamely grasping at straws to justify your oblivious ignorance to his confession and presumed feelings all this time.

Jay pursed his lips, nodding along after a moment. He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter and gathering the leftover food items the waiter had dropped off before your sort-of fight began. There was a shift, an obvious wall wedged between you even if Jay hadn’t said so, moving around you with ease.

“You let me know what you want then Y/N,” Jay finally says. “Relationship or not, being with me means people will talk. You decide where this goes,”

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It’s been a week. The longest you’ve gone without contact with Jay since you moved in with Heeseung a few years ago considering every few days the apartment would be flooded with the group hanging out in your living room and eating all the snacks in sight after getting the munchies.

You felt like an idiot, a confused  jumble of a mess because you thought that you had full control over your life once upon a time. Hell, the whole reason you didn’t want a proper relationship was for this–the fighting, stressing, and miscommunications turned into upset feelings and petty frustration. He hadn’t reached out, no random texts every day, no call in the middle of the night to talk, no meet-up slash date.

You didn’t either, taking time and over analyzing every moment you’ve spent together. You were an idiot for how much denial you were in prior, Jay was certainly your boyfriend without the label, at your beck and call and nearly always the one to put himself in your realm to ensure you felt taken care of but you never did the same. You were deluded by the fact that you believed he never, in a million years, wanted a relationship with you, Park Jongseong didn’t do relationships—at least according to every person you asked on campus, so what would’ve made you think differently? 

You were embarrassed, too awkward to reach out now. Everyday that passed you felt worse, deeming it as too much time to ask for forgiveness when you didn’t even have a proper handle on your own feelings. You still didn’t know if you were ready for a relationship, not because you were opposed to one with Jay, but because you lacked emotional maturity that you were willing to admit. Your last proper boyfriend was from high school, and that barely even counted.

Your door was pushed open without warning, Heeseung leaning against the frame holding one of your cats—Koi, in his arms. “You kiss and make up yet?” He asks with a raised brow. You pursed your lips, shaking your head and turning back to the mess you had on your desk from the attempts of studying you’ve been doing the last few days as a distraction. Heeseung let out a long groan. “Stop being stubborn, he’s been in a bad mood all week and it’s starting to get old with both of you moping over whatever dumb shit you’re fighting about,”

“He wants a relationship,” You mutter, words quiet but enough for Heeseung to catch across the room. You didn’t bother to look back, a small weight lifting off your shoulders as you hadn’t uttered a word to anyone about the shift in your relationship no matter how many times they asked.

“Jay told you he wants a relationship?” Heeseung repeats, voice significantly closer as you hear the weight of your bed shift behind you. You nod once. There was a beat of silence, and then a breathless laugh that escaped from Heeseung’s lips as he dragged your chair around to face him. “Park Jongseong told you he wants to be official and what? You don’t? I don’t understand, you two were basically there after the first month of whatever the fuck you had going on,”

“I didn’t think we were like that!” You defend lamely, pulling at the sleeves of your hoodie and shrinking in your seat. “As far as I knew, we were supposed to be friends with benefits, nothing more, nothing less,”

Heeseung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your excuses. “The only reason I didn’t flip out after finding out the two of you were hooking up was because I knew him,” He emphasized. “Jay wouldn’t have been around you everyday just because you gave him pussy. He’s an asshole, he wouldn’t care about you if you didn’t mean something to him Y/N,”

“How was I supposed to know that?” You shoot back, growing frustrated hearing the words you’ve thought in your head spoken out loud. “He doesn’t talk to me! I barely know him, he always pushed me away when I tried to get closer to him more than sex and surface level conversations. I don’t know him, so why is it my fault for thinking this meant nothing?”

Heeseung paused, his eyes softening slightly as he watched you ball yourself up in the chair. He reminded himself you didn’t know the guys like he did, you hadn’t known Jay long, nor did you meet him at the right time of who he truly is. “He’s been through a lot,” Heeseung starts carefully, words soft and watching the way you rolled your eyes. “It’s stupid, but he’s a guy. He’s not gonna tell you everything out of his own ego, and probably because he doesn’t want to bother you with worrying about him,”

“It’s been months Hee,” You sigh, head buried in your arms. “I deserve a little more credit, don’t I? He should trust me to talk to me, especially if he’s been waiting all this time for us to be together,”

“I’m not saying he’s justified for keeping himself blocked off when you’ve been there for him,” Heeseung agrees. “But, as smart as Jay is, he’s not the type to talk about his feelings after he deems them over with. I guess that’s why he’s gonna be a good lawyer, he compartmentalizes, as soon as it’s done, he pushes it away and forces himself to move on even if it’s not healthy and seeps through the cracks sometimes,”

You take a second, lifting your head with a pout. “I shouldn’t have to deal with an emotionally fucked up guy and help him help me understand him,”

Heeseung snorts, shrugging his shoulders. “True, but you’re not exactly sunshine and rainbows to be with either kid,”

You narrow your eyes. “What’re you getting at?”

“You’re avoidant,” He says simply. “I love Uncle Seon but it’s obvious to everyone he isn’t the best at expressing himself. You got a lot of his good qualities but you also picked up on how scared of love he is after what happened with your mom,” Heeseung adds carefully, watching how you reacted to the mention but you didn’t seem to flinch like you used to as kids. “You’re a good person, a best friend, but you suck at romance. You’d rather have the person without the commitment, hence your string of hook-ups before you landed on Jay cause he didn’t run away when you tried to push him out at the start,”

You blinked, eyes trailing over Heeseung who sat on your bed nonchalantly, hands absentmindedly playing with Koi who was settled at the foot of your bed. “When the fuck did you become emotionally mature and suddenly have all the answers?”

He smiled, a small laugh leaving his lips. “Wisdom comes with age,” Heeseung jokes, causing you to roll your eyes considering he was only three years older than you. “I took a psych class last semester for the credits, it was about interpersonal relationships,”

You hum. “That makes sense. At least you actually go to class and learn, I thought your stupid business major only taught you guys the primary colors and networking,”“Yah! Next time you need help with math don’t come to me,” Heeseung scolds, though his laughter bubbles through as you smile cheekily. He hits your knee lightly, rolling his eyes. “Point is, asshole, at least talk to him. You guys are good together, in some weird, gross, way that I’ll never admit to again unless you get married and I get to give a speech and talk about how I’m the reason you two met,”

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You had no idea what you were doing standing outside the Political Science building at 4pm on a Friday but here you were. You found out from Jake that Jay had a big project due today, all the fellow PolySci students dressed in formal attire had been going in and out of the building. You rocked on the heels of your feet, surprised by how many people actually took Friday classes as you refused to enroll in any from your first semester.

Apparently, Jay had to come in the extra day for a lecture and presentation and according to Jake, his portion was supposed to end at 4:15. You had no idea if he was certain, Jake was notorious for being terrible with time, hence why he was late to nearly every event you guys planned as a group.

But here you stood, awkwardly sat on one of the concrete benches under a large tree in the courtyard. You had a direct view to the main building, again you taking Jake’s word for it and praying he got all the information right.

Ten days have passed. After your talk with Heeseung, and mulling over your own ego and pettiness for a while, you woke up today feeling confident in resolving the weird limbo you were in. You figured a text would’ve been too impersonal, instead–for some god forsaken reason, your morning self was certain you could talk face-to-face without so much as a warning to Jay that you’d be coming by.

So you sat, too stubborn to run back home like you wanted but also simmering in your own pit of anxiety as time passed. Your head lifted up every time you heard the double doors creak open, you had showed up early—just in case, and practically counted down each minute.

4:16. You attempted to remain calm, restraining yourself from calling Jake and flipping out on him stating he had the wrong time.

4:17. The minutes seemed to pass quickly now. Your gaze steady on the entrance which has stayed still for the past few.

4:18. You glanced at your phone, lip tucked between your teeth nervously and you found yourself scrolling to Jay’s contact. You contemplated pressing the call button, the tightness in your chest from your nerves doing good to convince yourself that this was an idiotic plan and you should’ve asked to meet in the first place.

Just as you were about to give in, a figure casted a shadow over your own where the sun previously shone. You looked up, part of you hoping it was Jay but you were disappointed seeing a face you were unfamiliar with. A brunette stood in front of you, dressed in the formal attire you’d seen other students wear as well.

One hand held onto his backpack strap that was slung over one shoulder. The other was nervously scratching the back of his neck as he sent you a sheepish smile. “Hi,” He spoke, voice deep but shy. His eyes were light in the sun, the brown mixing into a golden hue. “I’m Park Wonbin,”

“Hi,” You respond, confused by the sudden exchange. “Lee Y/N,” You add, a polite smile on your features wishing to hurry up whatever he came over for. The suit definitely helped present himself but you could care less. You spent the last week grueling over a man, you intend to never have to do that again. “Did you need something?”

Wonbin falters for a second, eyes casting down nervously as he slips his phone from his back pocket. “You’re-uh, you’re beautiful,” He stumbles over his words, your shoulders tensing and having to refrain from visibly grimacing knowing he was attempting to ask you out. He was cute, conventionally at least, and seemed polite from how he approached, but the last thing you needed right now was a confession when you were trying to make one to Jay. “I was wondering if I could get your socials?”

Your mouth opens, then closes, unable to find the right words to let him down gently. You give him an apologetic smile, one he didn’t seem to catch onto causing you to sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m actually waiting for someone that I’m dating,”

“Dating?” He repeats.

“Exclusively,” You add, still sporting the smile but it felt more like a grimace. You let out a huff, grabbing your bag to stand up and praying you didn’t miss Jay exiting the building in the short minutes that took up your attention. Or worse, he saw, considering how jealous he was from the start. “I have to go—”

Your words were cut short once you looked past Wonbin for a split second. A few feet away, at the edge of the grass that met the concrete courtyard, Jay stood with his bag lazily draped over his shoulder and other hand tucked in his pants pocket. His hair was combed up neatly, button up shirt unbuttoned at the top three, exposing his undershirt and chain–the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dress pants hung nicely on his hips. His eyes were narrowed, flickering between you and Wonbin who turned to follow your gaze.

“Ah, Jay-shi, hello,” Wonbin greets with a polite bow. Jay tilts his head slightly in acknowledgment, not bothering for a proper response and you wince.

Jay’s eyes traveled over him, narrowed and sharp, taking account of the phone in his hand with the familiar add contact and how close he stood next to you. They shifted to you, softening slightly but you saw the flicker, obvious annoyance and confusion seeing you standing outside his class building when you didn’t take any courses anywhere near nor did you have them on Fridays.

His gaze stayed locked on you, head tilting and your feet moved quickly to reach his side. You hesitated on linking your arm with his own, Jay arching a brow noting your nerves and you pursed your lips. With a bow, you gave Wonbin a clipped smile. “Nice to meet you,” You say quickly, wishing to be anywhere but here in the awkward stares and uncomfortable silence.

You felt Jay’s hand press to your back, urging you to get up from the goodbye he deemed unnecessary. You stood straight and he allowed his hand to hold your hip, guiding the two of you away without another word. Jay looked forward, not bothering to spare you a glance as his free hand took your bag for him to carry like second nature. You gaped, not knowing if you should speak now or explain yourself as if you’d been caught doing something bad.

“Jay I—”

“Next time be rude,” He interrupts, words clipped and filled with frustration that he was managing well. “Don’t waste your breath being polite when I’ll make sure you never have to speak to him again,”

You purse your lips, eyes staring up at him for a moment but he didn’t bother to meet your gaze. You nod, looking ahead and following his lead wherever he meant to take you. “Okay,”

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The joint was tucked between Jay’s lips, one hand on the steering wheel while the other sparked the lighter to begin burning the end of his handmade roll. His knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the wheel, no words spoke between the two of you after he got you in the car and began driving.

Loud music blared from the speakers, the windows rolled down allowing for the cool breeze to run through your hair in a comforting mess. He didn’t bother putting on the usual playlist he knew you liked, the one filled with slow RnB and cheesy love songs, instead it was filled with rap, the type of upbeat and intense songs you assumed he mostly used at the gym to hype himself up to blow off steam.

Jay took a long puff to start the burning joint, the cloudy smoke filling the air between you though it dissipated fairly quickly with the windows down. He took another drag, sparing you glance for the first time as you rolled to a stoplight. He held his hand toward you, the spliff tucked between his fingers and you hesitantly reached out to take hold of the end but he quickly pulled away.

Your brows frowned, turning to Jay who stared back at you with an emotionless expression. He moves his hand once more, closer to your face and it registers that he was offering you a hit, but it had to be from him holding it. You leaned forward a bit, lips curling around the end and taking a deep inhale, the smoke flooded your lungs, Jay holding the joint steady even as the light turned green.

You pulled away, a small cough leaving your lips and you swore you caught the smirk that flickered at Jay’s lips as he watched you attempt to regain your composure. You gently pushed his hand away, him taking a long drag with ease causing you to roll your eyes.

“Are we gonna talk?” You finally manage, voice strained attempting to be louder than the song that blared through the speakers with heavy bass on every beat.

Jay spared you a short glance, joint tucked between his lips with a shrug. “Talk,” He says simply, you have to refrain from reacting to his obvious petty nature.

You pursed your lips, reaching for the stereo knob and turning down the music to a respectable level. “I didn’t come to get high with you,” You start. You nearly wince at the lame attempt at an ice breaker, Jay snorting at your words.

“You’ve pissed me off for the past week,” He shrugs. “If I was gonna hear you out, I needed this. Besides, I figured it would help you finally spit out whatever you came to say,”

“Well I’d rather not you be high for this,” You huff, growing annoyed with his attitude. “And I’d rather you actually be able to look at me and focus on me,”

Jay doesn’t say anything, instead he rolls his eyes. Smudging the half burned joint into the ashtray in the center consul, Jay pulled into a random shopping center. He parked the car on the far end, away from all the shops and foot traffic under a large tree, providing a sense of privacy under the golden sunlight as the sun had begun its descent.

He shuts off the engine, taking off his seatbelt and shifting so he could face you the best the seats allowed. Jay leans against the car door, an arm lazily draped over the wheel while the other combed through his disarray of hair. You purse your lips, a small sigh escaping them as you pull a leg up to sit half crisscrossed, the angle providing you to face him fully in the passenger seat.

Your hands wring together, suddenly nervous for the one thing you actually came to say. You let out a breath, eyes searching for his own but he was looking the other way. His jawline prominent, gaze focused on the trees that brushed in the breeze instead of you.

“Do you still mean what you said?”

Jay pauses. You saw the smallest quirk in his expression, brows frowning as he turned to you lazily. “I didn’t say that on a whim Y/N, I wouldn’t play with you like that,”

“Well, I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure the last week didn’t change your mind,” You shrug, fumbling with the hem of your skirt.

“10 days,” Jay corrects. You wince, knowing exactly how long it’s been but the way you put it seemed better than the emphasis. “You haven’t talked to me since,”

“Neither did you?” Your voice raises an octave, growing defensive while Jay merely hums, a humorless chuckle leaving his lips.

“I told you, you decide where this goes,”

You have to refrain from the groan that wants to leave your lips. You were terrible at touchy-feely serious conversations, that was obvious enough. “I thought about it,” You start, words slow and filled with hesitance. He watched, eyes glued on you though you couldn’t manage to meet his gaze as you stared down at your lap. “I think we both have our faults—lack of communication, fear of commitment, a hard time expressing our actual feelings when things are serious,”

Jay snorts, seemingly already knowing the downsides you were pointing out but doesn’t interrupt.

“So, I think we should work on that,” You add, the words a jumbled mess. “I like you, I do, but I want us to know more about each other. Sex and weed can’t be the only thing that connects us. I want to know about you, without having to force it out. I want you to trust me with whatever personal turmoil you have. I want to be with you, but we can’t just get together and have everything be the same. A relationship to me is more than this, I would be the person who knows you best, the darkest parts of you unapologetically and vice versa,”

Jay doesn’t say anything for a while. When you finally looked up, his eyes held your own. They flickered, searching for what to say and you shifted, embarrassed by the vulnerability and feeling small. “Okay,” he finally utters. “So we should date? Like a proper couple would, I should pursue you? A restart on the dynamic we have, no more sex until I prove to you what I feel,”

“Well—” You stutter, eyes wide and shaking your head. “I didn’t say all that—”

“But you deserve more than what we have now,” Jay interrupts. His voice was steady, clearly already made up in his head while you falter. “I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t trust you, like I didn’t want you to actually know me. I’ll do better with that, but if this’ll work you have to allow me to prove it and trust that I mean it. I never wanted you for just pleasure Y/N, not since the start, it was more than that for me but I didn’t know how to show it,”

You nod, the smallest amount of blush forming on the apples of your cheeks. You were nervous, heartbeat thumping through your ears and you had to refrain from hiding behind your hands. “Okay,” You manage out, avoiding his gaze that had shifted from serious to amused in an instant.

Jay leaned closer, the act alone causing you to look the other way as you acted as if the parking lot was fascinating. “Y/N,” He hums, the feeling of his breath tickling the skin by your ear, significantly closer than you anticipated causing you to flinch. He laughs, the sound overwhelming the flutter in your stomach. Jay reaches over, his hand gently tugging your chin, forcing you to look at him but your eyes squeezed shut and you could feel your face grow hot. “Look at me,”

You shake your head. You could hear the smile in his words. In the months of you two together, not once had he ever seen you like this. You were confident, sure of yourself, and rightfully so but now you seemed so shy and embarrassed. Jay couldn’t help but laugh, heart warmed at the sight considering he was the one to make you giddy like you were kids.

“I know I said no more sex but does that apply to kissing too?” Your eyes snapped open at his words, Jay sporting the prettiest smile you’ve seen and you nearly melted at the sight.

“I never agreed to no sex,” You mumble, tilting your head up with a small pout. Your faces were inches apart, the surly tone in your voice not going unnoticed and Jay raised a brow.

“Yeah?” He mumbles, the heat of his breath tickling your lips while you nod. Jay, with his hand still placed delicately along your jaw, pulls you close enough so your lips grazed as he spoke. “Too bad baby, I have to do this right,”

Your protests were interrupted by his lips meeting your own. You practically melted against him, a hand tangling to the back of his head to pull him closer and you felt his smirk against your lips. The kiss was intense, enough to say the unspoken words between you and to make up for the frustration from the past week. Your lips parted, attempting to deepen the kiss but Jay hummed, pulling away but not before nipping your bottom lip, dragging it out for a moment and placing a final chaste kiss.

A small whine of disappointment left your mouth as you attempted to pull him back but Jay shook his head. His fingers brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, your eyes fluttering open to match the sight of his blown out pupils.

“No more,” He finally says, voice raspy but certain. You pout, shaking your head but Jay doesn’t allow you to get closer. “You have to be patient baby, no more,”

You huff, slumping back into the seat with your arms folded. “Fine,” You mutter, visibly bothered while Jay couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“Glad to know you’ve been missin’ me,”

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“Remind me to stop lettin’ them get you high,” Jay mumbles under his breath, hands gripping your waist to keep you from practically jumping on him. You tsk, perched on your tippy toes to place a trail of sloppy kisses up his neck.

“S’not my fault,” You whine, words whispered in his ear. “You look good, and you’ve refused to let me do anything for the past month,” You add, pulling back enough for Jay to get a proper look at you. Lips pouted and swollen, eyes blinking up at him with a doe-y look, you knew exactly what you were doing.

“You get horny when you’re high,” Jay shakes his head, thumb trailing over your lip to fix the smudged gloss but you were quick to wrap your lips around his digit instead. He lets out a breathy laugh, in disbelief at your shameless nature as he takes a quick glance around. “We’re in public Y/N,”

“No one’s around,” You mutter, the words vibrating against his finger. “Let me make you feel good, we can go back to the car,”

“You’re fucking gross,” Jay tsks, though you noted the slight rasp to his words. He pulled his hand away, instead gripping your chin to connect your lips, the kiss hard, hungry and your teeth skimmed one another but you hummed in delight. Before it could proceed, Jay pulled away, pushing himself off the wall he was leant against with you following. “Behave,” He whispered in the shell of your ear, a chaste kiss placed to your temple as he pulled you along, forcing the two of you away from the hidden bathrooms you attempted to drag him to earlier.

You huff but follow without protest. His hand stayed steady against your lower back, protective and guiding through the now more crowded corridor as you made your way back to your seats. You glanced up at him every so often, still pouting over your umpteenth failed attempt. Jay had better self restraint than you thought, even if you had an obvious effect on him and it seemed physically painful to drag you off of him, he has.

You caught a glimpse of his neck, giggling at the sight of your shimmery kiss that stayed imprinted like a tattoo and he raised a brow, silently asking what was so funny but you didn’t elaborate.

The two of you reached the lower level, your friends spotted now all there and filled in their respective seats. Jake was the first to see you both, waving overly excitedly which caught the attention of the others.

At some point, between you and Jay’s agreement to actually attempt at a relationship, your friend groups have merged. Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki have come around more, no more snarky remarks, no more awkward conversations, but genuinely integrated with Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon and Jay. Lara and Manon have come around too, it took a while—Jay jumping through hoops of admittedly unnecessary tests, before he got the stamp of approval to court you. There had only been one other time of your friends all coming together thus far, and today was in support of Sunghoon’s hockey game, newly promoted to team captain and Heeseung emphasized how you all had to embarrass him for his first game as captain with large neon poster papers with his face plastered to it.

Somehow, Sunghoon managed to get enough tickets for you all in the lower bowl. How he managed to get them all seated together, you had no idea but you were sure he was regretting it with Sunoo and Manon both holding up signs and screaming rather loudly to get his attention in the players bench where the team was doing their pregame talk.

Two rows your group claimed, five sitting in one and the other four directly in front. The two seats in the second row were left unoccupied beside Jake and Heeseung. “What took you guys so long?” Lara calls out over the sound of the crowd that was filling in the stadium by the second. You merely smiled, shimming past the two to your seat while Jay followed without a word.

You heard a gasp, looking back to Jungwon who pointed at Jay with a grimace. “You guys are sick,” He tuts, the rest who sat above following his gaze and each reacting similarly.

“What? What’re we looking at?” Jake suddenly butts in, peering past you over to Jay with his brows frowned.

You snicker, turning to your almost-boyfriend who smirked. He turned his head, allowing Jake and Heeseung a clear view of his neck and the trail of kisses from your assault on him earlier. Jake gapes, reaching over to give Jay a dap-up while you roll your eyes, smacking their arms away.

Heeseung shakes his head, leaning back in his seat like a disappointed father. “You bring shame to the Lee name,” You scoff, narrowing your eyes and leaning over Jake to smack Heeseung’s elbow off the armrest he was leant against.

“I know you’re not talking, we find you like a damn dog in heat every party,”

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“If he doesn’t fold tonight I think it’s a loss cause,” Lara whistles, arms folding across her front as she takes a once over your body. You smile, applying your gloss and meeting her eyes in the mirror of your vanity.

It was a rare opportunity, a new club opening up near campus and the group all agreeing to hit it together for the first time. With both Sunghoon and Riki’s birthday coming and going, it allowed for the youngest to finally tag along on a night out and an excuse for a celebration before the semester ended and the holidays occurred.

Two months, two months of (mainly) innocent touches, cheesy dates that would’ve made you nauseous thinking about last year, and Jay morphing into the most perfect man as if he were made specifically for you. Countless dates, a million acts of service, and sweet nothings—you were absolutely smitten.

You knew it was your doing, telling him to take things slow, that you wanted to get to know each other first before anything official. And he’s proven that, deep conversations in the middle of the night led to vulnerability, Jay even managing to let himself cry to you for the first time when he explained his family situation and how he started selling to ensure he had money to keep him enrolled in uni.

It was a waiting game at this point. You had no idea when, or how he’d ask, but all that was left for you was to wait for him to make the final move. You’ve mentioned it, and you’ve attempted to seduce him more than once, but he’s held off. You loved the new parts of him, the parts of him that no one else knew and you were thankful he took the time to allow you both to understand one another, but god did you miss him.

Months of the best sex you had gone in an instant was horrendous for your admittedly high libido. You didn’t know how much you depended on your beneficial relationship until then. Not to mention knowing Jay the way you did now only increased your feelings for him, you wanted him for him, not just because he was hot and packed eight inches.

So you dug through your closet, finding the skimpiest little black dress you had no business buying the second you became an adult. Far too short, fitting your curves like a second skin, and deep cut in the neckline that gave a pretty view of your perky tits that sat beautifully thanks to your trusty push up that never failed before.

It was the middle of December, you truly should not be wearing that in the midst of winter and it was obvious enough what your motive was. You didn’t care, entirely shameless and excusing the lack of covering on your body with a large, thick, leather jacket and leg warmers that matched your chunky platforms. You wouldn’t be outside long either, inside the car and club would be warm enough.

Your skin glistened under the low lighting in your room, courtesy of the body shimmer Manon brought over, and your hair cascaded down in a half-up do that Jay has complimented more than once. Your make up was equally stunning, you letting a small sigh out of content as you stood, the jewelry you slipped on earlier adding a nice addition to your outfit and exposed skin.

You gave yourself a once over in your floor length mirror, spraying your signature perfume over your heat points before smiling.

“Oh yeah, he’s done for,” Manon states matter-of-factly, coming back from the bathroom where she finished getting ready. She stood beside Lara in the doorway, both dressed up as well but it was obvious you made an emphasis on your appearance for the night. “If he doesn’t fuck you tonight, call me instead,”

“Me too,” Lara adds, the three of you falling into a fit of giggles complimenting one another. You grabbed your small clutch, the other two mirroring your actions and gathering their things for the night out.

“Ladies, are you ready?!” Heeseung’s loud voice boomed through the walls, his footsteps sounding from his room that he had been cooped up in getting ready himself.

“Yes!” The three of your voices mixed in response, another round of giggles at the mimic while you heard the front door open followed by Jake’s loud voice. You heard a series of footsteps, far too many and male voices mixing together, presumably all the guys filing into your small living room on time.

Heeseung pops his head into your bedroom door. “Okay everyone’s here let’s—” He trails off upon seeing your outfit, you smiling innocently while he frowns his brows. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“A dress,” You state matter-of-factly. Heeseung scoffs, turning to Lara and Manon who looked the opposite way, knowing well enough he would’ve had a problem with it considering the first time you moved here and attempted at a girls night out in that very dress, he forced you to change.

“You’re wearing a piece of fabric Y/N,” He scolds, visibly uncomfortable with the little coverage on your body while you roll your eyes.

“My ass isn’t out and my tits are covered?” You point out, doing a spin to show, although rather short, the dress still covered enough. “We’re going to a club Hee, with a mob of guys including you, I’ll be fine,”

“You’re going to get us in a fight,” Heeseung shakes his head. “You’re going to get Jay in a fight,” He adds, the thought suddenly popping in his head and you see the way he perked up. “Jongseong, come here and look at what your girlfriend’s trying to wear!”

You scoff, arms folding across your front like a child ready to throw a tantrum but it only draws more attention to the swell of your breasts. Heeseung, being the ever dramatic, gags as he holds a hand up, not wanting to look at anything aside from your face.

“Why would you two let her put this on?” He asks Manon and Lara who shared a look before shrugging.

“She’s grown,” Manon says simply. Lara nods, giving you an apologetic wince as you could hear a set of footsteps echo through the apartment with Jay stepping into view.

“What’re you talking about?” He asks before reaching the doorway. His eyes pick up, immediately falling on you and doing a long trail over your figure. You shift, feeling shy all of a sudden compared to your previous confidence with everyone else, you noted the shift in Jay’s eyes before they met yours, his irises darker than before but he shakes his head. “What’s this?”

“A dress?” You repeat, although significantly less certain this time.

“A hot dress,” Lara interjects, attempting to help you save face and not give in to changing.

“She’s covered, she’s grown,” Manon nods. “Her man will be there along with a group of idiotic guys and us, who will kick anyone’s ass for touching her. Let her wear what she wants, it’s the 21st century! Just cause she has a fat ass and tits doesn’t mean she can’t wear tight clothes and people should know revealing outfits doesn’t give consent so we’ll just start a brawl if anything,” She says the words so simply, leaving no room for discussion.

You nod, thankful for your friends who had your back. Your motive was for Jay specifically, and you knew he wouldn’t let you out of his grasp anyway, but it was nice to hear reassurance.

Heeseung sighs, turning toward Jay giving him the final say. You held his gaze, his expression unreadable but you didn’t waver under the intensity. Finally, he nods, it barely noticeable but you break out into a smile.

“Perfect,” You grin, grabbing your clutch and the jacket from your bed. Manon and Lara giggle, leading the way out of your room with Heeseung rolling his eyes but guiding the group to where the others were waiting. You step out of the doorway, Jay quick to grab your waist and drag you against him.

“You’re playing dirty,” He grumbles, the words whispered against your ear while you hum.

“Not my fault you have a pretty girlfriend,” You shrug, pulling away enough to glance at his features.

Jay raises a brow. “Girlfriend?”

“Ah, right,” You tut, hand reaching up to gently pat his cheek. “Sorry, you have no actual claim on me so hopefully I don’t get too much attention later,” You say with a faux pout, stepping out of his grasp but you hear the scoff that came from Jay.

“If you keep talking shit like that we won’t end up going,” He mumbles, hand falling to your waist but not allowing you any time to respond as he guides you to the living room where the rest filled. You bit back the cheeky smile that wanted to fall upon your lips, the click of your heels gaining everyone’s attention as they were waiting on the two of you.

“Okay good! Everyone take a pregame shot together,” Jake calls out from the kitchen island, the open floor plan showing everyone huddled around him with shot glasses already filled. You felt the pairs of eyes settle on you, Jay unamused as you felt his grip on your hip tightens while he pulls you closer.

“You get two seconds to stop staring,” He calls out, voice low as he watches the pairs of eyes flicker up and around awkwardly, finding anything else to stare at. “Don’t piss me off, I know she looks good but you know better,”

Manon whistles, clapping in delight at Jay’s warning. Lara laughs along with her, Heeseung rolling his eyes and grimacing at the thought of all his friends finding his little cousin attractive. You place a hand to Jay’s chest, reassuring him it was fine.

You clear your throat, stepping to the island and grabbing the two unclaimed shot glasses in front of Jake. Holding one to Jay, you smiled at the group, clearing the uncomfortable air.

“Shots?”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶ ─ · ·

God, he should’ve made you change. It was bad enough Jay was barely managing himself as it was, but that little black dress that clung to your skin was impossible to ignore. The past hour you’ve been here, you’ve had more than a handful of eyes on you and the ego boost Jay got every time you clung to him did wonders but with the more alcohol that entered your system, the more bold you got.

You were tipsy by the time you reached the club, the pregame shots doing its job in making you feel a buzz. The fruity cocktail you had him order you along with the rounds of shots Heeseung and Jake ordered, setting you over what was the typical amount you drank.

And just like with weed, you were horny when drunk—specifically when Jay was in the vicinity. You had been dancing, a messy group of you, Manon, and Lara. Heeseung and Jake were there with your trio, but the eldest long forgotten after he found a girl for the night and Jake came back to the bar to order another drink.

Each time you returned to the claimed table your group had, you grew closer and closer to Jay. Your hands lingered, the kisses you placed going from his lips to his neck. The last time you came for a sip of your melting Mai Tai, your hand grazed over his pants, feeling his dick that reacted embarrassingly fast to your touch. You sipped from the straw innocently, even engaging in conversation with Sunoo and Riki as if you weren’t attempting to pump him under the table before you disappeared back into the crowd with Manon and Lara at your sides.

Sunghoon nudged Jay’s shoulder, beer in hand that he had been nursing since they first got here as he nodded in your direction. “You guys together yet?” He asks over the blaring music.

Jay, flickering his gaze from you for a second to glance at him, shook his head slightly. He reached for his own glass, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid with a scrunch of his nose. “Not yet,”

Sunghoon whistles, his eyes scanning over the packed club floor for a moment. “She still need more time?”

“Haven’t asked,” Jay shrugs, the words causing Sunghoon to give him a confused look. “What?”

“Why not?” He laughs. “You guys still not having sex too? Is that why she’s all dressed up and trying to climb on top of you tonight?” Jay rolls his eyes, giving Sunghoon a warning look who merely holds his hands up showing no harm. “I’m just sayin’ man, you know she’s fine, she knows she’s fine. You need to get on that before she gets bored of waiting and finds someone else to mess with,”

“She’s the one who told me to take it slow,” Jay scoffs, suddenly defensive over your relationship as his eyes locked on you in the crowd.

“And you have,” Sunghoon agrees. “You’ve done the cute dating bullshit for the past two months, you’ve opened up to her about everything. You two seem pretty damn close so why not make it official? I’m tired of you taking hour long showers beating your dick everyday, we have one bathroom and too many people in the house,”

“It’s me, you, and Jake,” Jay snickers, finding Sunghoon’s dramatics amusing while the slightly younger of the two nods in emphasis.

“You two keep wasting all of the hot water! Jake has always taken forever but you? I know what you’re doing you sick fuck,” Jay snorts, unable to keep his laughter from bubbling over while Sunghoon lightly shoves his shoulder. “I’m serious. You’re definitely happier now too but you’re still an asshole sometimes. I think the blueballs are getting to you,”

Jay merely nods, not bothering with a defense as his eyes stay glued to your figure. Manon and Lara were dancing, bodies pressed together as Lara was rolling her hips onto Manon to the beat of the song, you yelling in delight giggling at your friends. Your hips swayed along to the music, albeit a bit sloppy due to how much alcohol you had in your system but you were having the time of your life.

Until a random guy suddenly came up to your left, far too close for comfort and you stepped to the side, still in your own little world believing he wanted to dance near you not on you. Manon was quick to catch it, pulling Lara up and Jay watched as the girls pulled you close, away from the unknown man between them. He spoke, Lara frowning her brows and holding up at hand to keep distance.

Aside from Heeseung who had disappeared not long ago, the rest of the guys sat at the table, conversing and watching the nightlife as well as you three in their direct sight. Sunoo leaned across the table, brows frowned as he looked to Jay to ensure he was seeing what they were.

He was, eyes zeroed in on the back of the guy's head but not moving quite yet. You were having fun, still unaware as you danced and Manon and Lara did good at keeping you guarded. If the man walked away, there would be no need for Jay to step in.

“Hyung?” Jungwon says carefully, brows frowning seeing Manon begin to argue with the man.

“The fuck is he doing?” Jake scoffed, words slightly slurred as he pulled himself up. Jay shook his head, standing as well to make his way over. Sunghoon followed, the most level headed as he wasn’t nearly as drunk as Jake and although he’d defend his friends for anything, it wasn’t nearly the same as it was for Jay protecting you.

The youngest three stayed at the table, keeping watch of your belongings but also ready to step in if need be. Riki shook his head, Sunoo’s brows pinched together worriedly, and Jungwon scanned to see if Heeseung was anywhere near.

Jay was bad enough, Heeseung would only add to it as he tended to be irrational when it came to you, especially while drunk.

“Get the fuck away,” Manon’s voice pulled you out of the daze you were in. You frowned, vision slightly blurry as you turned, hyperaware of the fact that you were sandwiched between your two friends though no one was happy and carefree anymore.

“She’s good,” Lara repeats, hand still up creating distance with the unfamiliar man who stood a mere foot away.

“She’s been dancing alone, I can keep her company while you two dance,” The guy offers, an innocent smile on his lips but you frown.

“She has a man,” Manon emphasizes. “She’s fine dancing with us, go away,”

“Why’s she here by herself then?” The guy snickers, looking around for anyone that would’ve been paying attention to you three. The people around you paid no mind, far too drunk and in their own groups to notice the hostility forming. “C’mon, she’s wearing a dress like that here by herself? She wants company,”

“What I’m wearing has nothing to do with you?” You scoff. Lara was quick to grab your arm, a notorious reputation in the Lee family was to pick fights when intoxicated. There’s been less than a handful of times where you actually tried to fight someone bigger than you at parties, typically when a guy was making someone else uncomfortable. “I don’t fucking know you, go away,”

“I’m just trying to have fun baby, don’t act like that,” The man’s tone changed when talking to you, appearing genuine but you rolled your eyes with visible disgust.

“Jay!” You call out, pushing out of the barrier Manon and Lara had on you. You go to move past the guy, certain that the table he’d be at was straight ahead but you’re stopped once the unfamiliar creep grabs you. “Are you fucking dumb? Get off of me!”

Manon and Lara were yelling as well, your elbow flying into the man’s face as you flailed in his hold, the hit to his nose enough for him to stumble. You didn’t have time to turn around and hit him like you anticipated, instead you felt a different pair of hands pull you back. You nearly began to yell again but you turned to see Sunghoon, his hands holding you in place by your shoulders but his eyes were focused ahead.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You heard Jake’s voice over the music. He stood in front of Manon and Lara, shoving the guy back another few steps. Jay stood in front of you, blocking your view but you could see the stiff positioning of his shoulders. “They told you to get lost and you think grabbing her is the answer?”

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy shoots back, hand holding his nose before pressing the damp blood that came from his nostril. “That bitch hit me!”

“No shit,” Jay scoffs, voice dangerously low and humorless through his dry laughter. “Your fucking lucky she’s the one who did it,” He spits while the man takes a second, eyes narrowing at Jay as he analyzed his features longer than necessary.

“Ay, hold on,” He laughs, holding up his hands to show no harm. “You’re Jay, aren’t you? You sell right? Man I haven’t seen you in a while,” The last part was quieter than the rest, the words causing Jay to roll his eyes before it clicked in realization. “That your girl? She’s strong man,”

“What’d I tell you last time Rinu?” Jay lets out an exasperated sigh. “You owe me money, and now you hit my girl? You’re begging like a bitch for me to do something,”

“I didn’t hit her,” Rinu corrects. “I didn’t know she was your girl either, she’s wearing that dress and been looking at me all night so—”

“In your fucking dreams,” You laugh, throughly baffled by his attempt to spin the blame on you. “You’re a fucking pervert who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer,”

Jay turns his head, catching a glimpse of you who struggled in Sunghoon’s grasp, standing on your tippy toes to throw insults over his figure that blocked your sight. He smirks, a hand held out for you to take and Sunghoon lets you leave his side. Jay sighs, his arm slithering around your waist and you fit perfectly into him, his hand holding you tight knowing you could pounce any second to attempt another swing.

“I’ll let your brother know,” Jay nods, the words causing Rinu’s previous smug expression to drain from his face. “I’m sure he’d be happy to handle it for me,”

“Jay, man, come on—”

“One of you wanna walk him out?” Jay interrupts, the words spoken to Sunghoon and Jake who nod in response. Sunghoon moved first, pushing Rinu forward without a word, shoving him through the crowd with Jake tagging along happily, practically bouncing on his feet to talk shit and ensure the club security knew to not let him in again.

“That was fucked up,” Manon huffs, hands running over her hair to straighten out any loose strands.

Lara nods with a sigh. “You need to stop fighting people,” She scolds, pointing a finger at you as you send them an apologetic smile.

“I knew the guys would handle it,” You defend meekly but know well enough your temper gets the best of you at times. “I’m sorry, thank you for defending me at first though. He just wouldn’t take no for an answer,”

“Yeah weirdo,” Manon scoffs. “Who was that guy?” The question was directed to Jay who still had you pulled flush against him.

“His brother used to buy from me a lot, I sold to him a few times but he started flaking on the money. I stopped selling to both of them because of it but he’s scared shitless of his brother. You can imagine how me telling him I wouldn’t sell to him because of Rinu went for them,” Jay shrugs, the old memories of him first selling popping in his head.

“Right, well hopefully his brother fucks him up then,” You mutter bitterly. You wrap your arms around yourself, the outfit you picked suddenly not as comfortable as before causing you to shy away.

The three noticed, Lara holding out her hand to give yours a squeeze. “C’mon, let’s take a break and drink a little more. Fucker ruined my buzz,”

Manon hums in agreement, the two leading the way back to the table where the last three of your group waited, practically buzzing to hear the context of what happened. Jay held you close against him, hands resting on your hips as the two of you shimmed through the crowd.

Just before you reached the table, he pulled you back and placed a lingering kiss on your shoulder. “I’m sorry he touched you,”

You pout, spinning around to face Jay as your hands cup his cheeks. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong,” You reassure, leaning up to place a kiss to his lips. “You guys came in time and we’re fine, let’s not let that ruin the night, okay?”

His eyes closed for a moment, basking in the feeling of your soft hands that caressed his skin. Almost instantly, the simmering anger that stayed beneath the surface began to subside, Jay letting out a breath and his head moved to place a kiss to your palm. “Stay with me for the rest of the night, yeah?”

You smile, nodding along with a little giggle escaping your lips. “You gonna show me your dance moves then, pretty boy?”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶ ─ · ·

“I’ve decided on my New Year’s resolution!” You grin, your voice carrying through the empty apartment as you waltz into the kitchen. Jay hummed, back turned to you as he stood at the stove, the delectable aroma filling your senses and you nearly went back on your word at the sight of him.

Loose pajama pants hung low on his hips, a black tank top allowed for a view of his arms and shoulders that flexed as he moved. To top it off, the messy bed head and apron over his clothes were disgustingly adorable.

“What’s that, love?” Jay calls back, not expecting you to be standing at the kitchen island so he jumps as he turns around. You smile, leant over the counter and your hair still wet from the shower you just had. The large white t-shirt you borrowed from him was damp in the areas where you pulled your hair forward, the areas see through to your breasts as you wore nothing underneath and he had to force himself to look in your eyes. The new jewelry of your piercings were cute, dazzling hearts on either side of your nipples that poked out beneath the material.

“I’ve decided,” You start, walking around the island to reach him by the stove. Jay nearly dropped to his feet, a dangerous outfit you were wearing as he shared his apartment with Sunghoon and Jake but you were told they wouldn’t be home til the afternoon. The only thing he knew you were wearing was his shirt, he prayed you weren’t cruel enough to walk through his house without your panties as well. “I’m gonna respect myself, no more messing with boys unless we’re in a committed relationship,” Jay paused, eyes narrowing at you who stood with a cheeky smile. “No more kisses, no more touching, and no more sleepovers. I’m off limits until I’m off the market starting right now,”

Jay scoffs in disbelief, turning to shut off the stove, interrupting the breakfast he was amidst making for you. Two weeks ago after the club night out, sleepovers had become a regular routine for the two of you. Nothing went further than the deep make-out sessions and dry humping that forced Jay to lock himself in the bathroom like some loser teenager. He was planning out the way to ask, waiting for the holidays to end to form an anniversary date that wouldn’t share the busy season in the future.

But you, it seems, couldn’t wait another few days. Practically forcing his hand with the no kissing no touching rules, those being his saving grace to keep himself grounded thus far. It would be impossible, especially tonight at the New Year’s Eve party you’d all be attending and the outfit he helped you pick out.

It was cruel, a low blow, but Jay had to give it to you for knowing what you want. He pulled the apron over his head, tossing it onto the counter and taking a step closer to you who still stood with the same cheeky expression, arms folded across your front and ensuring he saw the swell of your tits through the material.

“You know, I had a whole date planned,” Jay starts, you humming as a pathetic attempt to seem sad for him. He corners you against the island, arms trapping you on either side of the marble top but not close enough to touch you. “January 4th,” He sighs, tilting his head with a faux pout. “Day trip, I was gonna take you out to the beach, we’d have a picnic. I even had a necklace ready to give you and a flower order placed. Few days away from the holidays, far enough from anyone’s birthday so I’d be able to spoil you with trips for our anniversary,”

Your resolve falters hearing his words. Your lips part, unable to come up with a proper response hearing his play-by-play and how much thought he put into the day that was quite literally a dream for you. Jay tsks, eyes holding your own with no sense of remorse, instead they were amused, practically egging you on to take back your words.

“This’ll be a funny story to tell our kids, December 31st is our anniversary ‘cause your mom couldn’t wait anymore, forced my hand in asking her in my shitty college apartment,” He mimics, a snort leaving his lips at the hypothetical while your heart picks up at the mention of Jay banking on the long term with you. “You can’t say no now, tell me you’re mine and I’ll give you what you want since you’re so desperate you had to find a way to make me ruin all our plans,”

His voice was low, head dipped dangerously close to yours but he still wasn’t touching. His body invaded your space, almost suffocating but he respected your rule. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, head tilting to feel his lips against your own but Jay clicks his tongue.

“Tell me we’re together, Y/N,” Jay hums, words raspy and practically mumbled into your mouth but he stayed far enough away to ensure they didn’t quite touch.

“Jay please,” You force out, the whine in your voice almost pornographic and your thighs squeezed together where you stood. “We can do your plan on the fourth, call it our actual anniversary but I need you,” You beg, arms trailing up and falling to his neck. You attempted to pull him closer, to reach up for a kiss but Jay stayed steady. “Please baby, it’s too much. It’s been too long, I miss you—I need you, I know you want me too so please,”

Your attempt at getting him to fold first failed. Exceptionally so but your cloudy judgment refused to let you acknowledge how utterly fucked out you sounded already, something he’d be sure to tease you about later but you didn’t care. You leaned up, straining on your tippy toes to begin a sloppy trail up his neck, sucking at a particular spot below his ear you remember being his favorite. One of your hands trailed down, grazing over the indentation of his muscles, each flexing at your touch until you reached his pants. You paused at the waistband, palm trailing down and you moaned at the feeling of his fully hard cock that was strained in the material.

You peered up at him, hand working through the pajama pants and lips pouted. “Please? Let me make you feel good Jjongie,”

He would’ve been insane to say no. Park Jongseong put up a good fight but the morality he had for your relationship was out the window as soon as you looked up at him. Months, three months he lasted, countless cold showers and growing nearly desensitized to the feeling of his own hand led to this.

“You’re such a slut sometimes,” Jay finally says, the words an insult but you grinned. One of his hands pushed you down to your knees, the other ridding his pants and underwear at once, his erect length smacking against his torso. “You missed my dick that much? Making you act dumb for it?”

You didn’t respond, eyes fixated on his pretty pink tip that was begging for a release. Jay pulled you up, shifting so you sat on his foot and he nearly laughed at the lack of underwear you had on. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, suddenly shy but he shook his head.

“C’mere,” Jay mumbles, a hand on the back of your head while the other guides his cock into your mouth. You licked a long strip up his shaft, tongue swirling around the head before spitting extra spit on it. You peered up at him, a smirk on his lips with heavy breaths heaving his chest. You opened your mouth, taking in his girth and you gave yourself a second to adjust but Jay had other plans.

His hips jutted forward, pushing himself deep down your throat without warning and your eyes snapped shut. He pulled back, a hand gently caressing your cheek. “You okay, pretty?”

You nod, a slight soreness beginning in the back of your throat but you loved the way he was handling you. This is what you wanted, to show how eager you were to please and for Jay to use you as he wished. Three long, bullshit months without his dick was hell, you hoped it’d never happen again.

You open your mouth, one of your hands gripping the base of his shaft as you begin to take him in again. You moved up and down, a slow but deliberate pace which allowed you to take him deeper each time. He smiled, head lulling back remembering your lack of a gag reflex as he reached the back of your throat, your cheeks hallowing and staying put for a second on your own accord.

Once you pulled out you spit the excess saliva onto his shaft, your hand pumping up and down creating a slobbery mess along his thighs as well as your chin. “Good job baby, makin’ me feel good with that pretty little mouth,” He praises, the hand on the back of your head having a light hold on your hair. He shoved his dick back into your mouth, guiding you back and forth at a pace he enjoyed and you hallowed out your cheeks, allowing for his hips to move in sync and fuck your mouth. He pressed himself all the way down, your eyes stinging with tears at the feeling of his tip pushed down your throat that clenched unintentionally.

He pulled out, a small pop sounding at suck you had on his tip. You felt him twitch, your lips quirking with a smirk knowing well enough it would be easy to get him to cum, his pent up frustration easy to unfold. You stared up at him, eyes doe-y and wide, lashes fluttering and a beautiful mess of spit that glistened from your lips and chin. You sat beneath him, back arched and shirt hiked up so he got a perfect view of your ass and pushed up tits through the still see-through shirt.

Jay doesn’t say a word, instead his arms hook around your waist and he pulls you up with ease. You yelp in surprise, the cool marble countertop causing goosebumps to arise on your skin while you stare at Jay with the same look. He leans over, a trail of kisses starting from your ankle, working his way up to your inner thigh.

“Jay,” You squirm, his series of open mouth kisses creating a circle around your heat. “Stop teasing,” You pout, hips bucking as he used one hand to push them back down.

He tsks, eyes flickering up to meet your own before placing a kiss to the top of your vulva. A loud gasp leaves your lips, head falling back but growing frustrated as he moves back to your thighs. “You’re so needy,” He hums, breath fanning against your lips as one of his fingers skims over your center. A laugh leaves his lips as reaches your hole, the collection of arousal drenching the digit enough for him to slip it in with ease.

“Oh my—” A loud moan escaped your lips, hips rolling, feeling his finger curl, the size of his hands much larger than yours and doing so much more than you ever could. Your pussy clenches around him, a measly finger enough to make you a mess and he can’t help but smirk at the sight of you pulling him in. “Fuck, fuck, please. More Jjong, please,”

Jay licks a strip up your folds, finger still inside and pumping in and out slowly. Your moans fill the room, his tongue flattening against your core, flicking up and down your clit as if he were starved. He hums against you, the vibration causing your hips to buck and legs clench, Jay forcibly holding your legs down to continue. He was good, one of the only guys to make you cum on his tongue before, but something about the desperation he was giving was intoxicating. His finger fluttered in and out of you, a second added in the mix while he practically made out with your clit. Licking, sucking, listening to your reactions and curling his fingers hitting just the right spot.

“Oh fuck,” You rush out, hands finding his hair and tangling through the strands. “Oh my god, baby, please don’t stop,” Your hips bucked, moving in sync with his mouth that refused to come up for a breath of air. His nose nudged against your clit every so often, tongue swirling up and down with his fingers pumping in you at an overwhelming rate. A loud moan escaped your lips, your walls clenching around his digits and Jay continued to lick your clit slowly, ensuring your orgasm road out as long as it could as your legs closed due to the sensitivity.

When he finally pulled away, the bottom portion of his face was wet with your slick. He gently pulls his fingers out of you, making sure to suck the drops of you clean before he stood up. Your eyes met his own, pupils blown out and heavy breaths filling the space between you.

“You okay?” He asks softly, leaning over your body and placing a kiss to your lips. You hum against him, tongue swiping against his own and you felt his smile. “Good, we’re not done yet,” He mumbles, the feeling of his shaft swiping up your slick folds causing you to gasp. He smears the precum off his tip, giving his dick a few pumps as he grazes the tip against your pussy.

“You’re so pretty baby,” Jay praises, one hand squeezing your hip while the other guides his tip to your hole. Gasps left each other's lips, your eyes half-lidded as you stared up at him. His hips push forward, pushing himself further into you at a dangerously slow pace. Your pussy clenches around him all the way until he bottoms out, stilling for a moment to gain his composure. “Fuuck, I’ve missed you,” He mumbles, head tilting back and eyes shut in pleasure.

Your moans fill the air between you, your hips moving to create some type of friction causing him to hiss. “H-hold on baby,” Jay stutters, eyes still shut and you see the way he forced himself to hold back. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, your hand trailing down his prominent muscles with a pout. “I haven’t felt you in a while, gonna make me cum too fast,” He explains in a hushed voice, gaze meeting your own and noting the smirk that picked up on your lips.

“Guess you’ll just have to give me more than one then,”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶ ─ · ·

Three rounds. Three you managed in under two hours. One in the kitchen, one in the bedroom, and one in the shower attempting to clean up from the other two. It was a record for the both of you, the urgency due to how pent up you both were along with the fact you wanted to finish before either Jake or Sunghoon had come home.

Jay had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when the pair walked in. The two complained about the windows having been opened in the midst of winter but Jay snorted back stating it was either be cold or them coming home to the smell of sex.

There was a series of yells, disgusted by the fact that the two of you fucked somewhere in the shared space before shifting to thanks of a higher being for Jay getting pussy for the first time in months. Jake had personally come to thank you, wishing you a happy sex life so his best friend wouldn’t be a “pent up prick all the time.” The conversation then shifted to congratulations on your relationship, genuinely happy for the two of you and boasting that they were the first to know but you shut them down before they could text the group chat and wreck havoc.

Jay explained, with minimal details, that your anniversary would technically be the fourth. Sunghoon snorted at the fact that you both were too horny to wait but also stated how utterly stupid it was to wait until you were a couple in the first place considering you had been fucking for a long time prior.

Now here you were, sitting in the passenger seat comfortably lacing your fingers with Jay’s who drove. Meanwhile, Manon, Lara, and Sunoo were crammed in the back. The other half of your group crammed in Sunghoon’s car—though Jungwon volunteered himself as the DD so he drove for the night.

“You guys make me sick,” Manon huffs, tossing the empty water bottle she had been hydrating with in your direction.

You sent her an innocent smile, tossing the bottle back as Sunoo and Lara laugh at the sight. You hear Jay’s chuckle, his eyes flickering from the rear view mirror to see Manon’s finger flick you off but you paid her no mind. You smiled at him, this time genuine and he spared you a glance as you rolled to a spotlight. He peered to the backseat, a smirk forming on his lips before leaning in, placing a chaste kiss to your lips earning a series of grumbles and gags from the back.

You looked to the front, the light still red and you took the opportunity to pull Jay back. You connect your lips once more, his smile felt against your lips and your free hand holding up the middle finger in response to your friends who groaned with dramatics.

He pulled away as the light flickered green, instead lacing your hand with his own and placing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Sick!” Manon huffs.

“Wait, when’d you get this bracelet?” Sunoo suddenly asks, pointing to you and Jay’s interlocked hands, the dazzling sparkle of your newly gifted tennis bracelet shining in the nightlight.

Lara hums, patting Sunoo’s shoulder. “I forget you went home for Christmas,” She giggles, wiggling her brows suggestively. “It was her present from Jay,”

“Along with a Prada bag and a gazillion new make up items,” Manon snorts, you sticking her tongue out at her which she mirrors.

“I also got her lingerie,” Jay adds nonchalantly. You gape, smacking his shoulder while he laughs. Lara gasps, the final gift being unknown while Sunoo cringes.

“Was it cute?” Manon asks and you nod.

“Hot,” You smirk. “I’ll show you guys later, it’s comfortable too,”

Jay whips his head at the mention of you sharing his outfit choice. You giggle, rubbing his shoulder reassuringly while the girls snicker from the back.

“Sorry Jay, before you there was us. We got all the nudes and pre-approved them,” Lara shrugs.

“I literally pierced her nipples,” Manon snorts. “You’re welcome for that by the way,” Your eyes widened, Sunoo choking on his spit in the corner where he sat.

Jay stiffened, sparing you a glance while you fumble for your words. “Manon!” Was the best you could come up with, voice an octave higher and Lara laughing from her seat in the middle.

Manon pauses, turning to Sunoo and wincing. “Sorry?” She offers. “I forgot not everyone here has seen you naked, my bad,”

“Naked?” Jay interjects.

Lara sighs, patting his shoulder with a shake of her head. “We’re girls Jongseong, this is normal, don’t take it personal,”

Manon hums in agreement, you smiling sheepishly as he glances at you. You shrug, pulling his hand closer toward your chest.

Sunoo, now knowing far too much information about the three of you, wished he switched places with Riki earlier. Jay doesn’t say anything for a moment, stiff silence falling over the car before he smirks.

“Good job on the piercings,”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶ ─ · ·

“Do I have to piss on your leg like a dog or what?” Jay scoffs, allowing you to drag him away from the random guy who attempted on hitting on you after he disappeared to the bathroom for two minutes. You snort, shaking your head and guiding your way through the sea of people.

There was a surprising amount at the frat party. You would’ve assumed most would’ve been home for the break, but that didn’t stop the house from being filled to the brim and everyone packed in like sardines. Loud music blared throughout, the sound traveling to the backyard where your seats were left.

Jungwon, Riki, and Sunghoon sat in the far corner around the fire-pit that was claimed early on in the night. You and Jay being the only couple, choosing to shy away from the crowd inside, were joined by each due to their introverted nature or simply because they didn’t want to deal with the scene inside.

You made your way back, settling into your seat, well Jay’s even though you had your own but he refused to have you anywhere aside from his lap. You were covered up, outfit certainly more acceptable for the cold weather and snuggled into his embrace. You felt him shift beneath you, a familiar baggy being pulled from his jacket causing you to raise a brow.

“I said I’d stop selling this new year, not smoking,” Jay winks, placing a kiss on your temple as you roll your eyes. The lighter igniting caught everyone’s attention, Jay helping you start with the first puff, the smoke filling your senses with a deep inhale. Jay lifted his gaze, glancing over at Jungwon and Riki. “You guys smoke?” He asks as he takes a hit of his own, passing the joint to Sunghoon.

Jungwon shakes his head, Riki holds up his puff bar instead that he pulled from his pocket. Your eyes light up, seeing the pretty light pink vape and Jay shakes his head knowing you were enticed by the color. “What flavor is that?”

“Peach-guava,” Riki answers, rolling his eyes at Jungwon who snorted at the fruity flavor. He passed the bar to Sunghoon, who exchanged the joint to him before handing it over.

You grin, taking a deep inhale and instantly feeling the smoke flood your senses. The fruity smell mixed with the flower, Riki taking his first hit from the joint with a cough immediately leaving his lips. Sunghoon hold out his half empty water bottle to the youngest, you blowing out a long puff of air directly in Jay’s face as he grimaced.

You giggle, enjoying the flavored air and hold the vape for Jay to try. Him shaking his head, gently pulling the puff bar from your hands to make its way back to Riki. “I don’t like nic,” Jay mumbles, scrunching his nose at the fruity air that still lingered.

“Baby,” You tease, sticking out your tongue while Jay rolls his eyes.

“Shits nasty,” He says simply. “It’s worse for you too,”

“Oh and smoking weed like a habit isn’t?” You snort.

“It’s not as bad as long as you’re not addicted,” Sunghoon chips in, taking a long drag from the joint before it finally reaches you and Jay. You pout with a small huff. Jay smiles, his arm tightening around you to pull you closer.

He lifted the spliff to his lips, taking an inhale before leaning up, his lips ghosting against your own to exhale the smoke in your mouth. You smile, connecting your lips fully as Jay hums against you.

“Gross,” Jungwon boos, Sunghoon and Riki chuckling at the sight of you two.

“Shut up man,” Jay teases, lifting the joint to your lips for a puff. You oblige, maintaining the eye contact that Jay forced himself to break, swallowing hard causing you to smile.

You placed a chaste kiss to the shell of his ear. “Another round before the new year?”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ─ ·✶ ─ · ·

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty,” Jay groans, feeling your slick against him as you grind your hips down on his shaft. The two of you managed to slip away from the others twenty minutes ago, giving yourself thirty minutes before midnight when they’d be sure to come looking for you.

Perched in the backseats of Jay’s car, you had just pulled yourself up from giving him head. Your legs wrapped around his waist, you naked aside from your panties that were pulled to the side while Jay still had his shirt on and pants pooled down at his ankles.

Jay, ever the courteous, was kind enough to lay down a spare blanket he had tucked away in the trunk months ago after a day trip to the beach with the guys, considerate of your friends who would be making their way home with you later on.

His hands trail up your skin, the dim lighting from the street lamp being the only illumination in the car parked along the quiet street aside from the frat house in full swing. Jay pulled you closer, arm wrapped around your waist and shifted so he was able to take one of your nipples in between his lips. Your head lulled back, humming in delight feeling his tongue swipe against the cool metal bar, toying with your piercing and his other hand gently rolled the other nub between his finger tips.

You lifted your weight off his lap momentarily, hand falling to his hard shaft and guiding the tip between your lips. You smile, feeling him hum against you, the pool of arousal between your legs more than enough lubricant as you slowly inched down on his dick. Breathy moans fill the air, your eyes pinching shut at the fullness and Jay’s grip on your hips tightening. You stilled as you bottomed out, allowing you both a second to settle at the feeling of his cock buried all the way inside you.

Your hips rocked, slowly at first. The curve of his dick hitting just right, tip kissing your cervix and clit rubbing against his pelvis creating more friction. You couldn’t remember the last time you rode him, making a mental note to do so more often and Jay’s half lidded eyes stayed focused on you. His hands stay put on your waist, guiding you back and forth, encouraging you to move against him at a consistent pace.

You felt him twitch, your eyes opening to see Jay fixated on your stomach. You roll your hips, moaning at the feeling but Jay presses his palm against your lower abdomen, the feeling causing the fullness of his dick to increase.

“Oh fuck,” He breathes out. “I’m all the way in you, huh?” He smirks, the belly bulge something new he hadn’t seen before and couldn’t help but boost his ego at the sight.

You let out a breathy laugh, lifting your hips slightly before pushing back down. Jay moans, the sight of him filling you euphoric, his hands helping guide you up and down, slow at first, deliberate with each stroke before his hips began to meet you halfway. The lewd noises of your skin hitting filled the car, the wetness between you heard, your arousal dampening your thighs.

“Jay,” You moan, tits bouncing along to each stroke, palms pressed to his chest, nails digging into his skin with the recoil of your ass hitting his hips. “Feels so deep,” You add, words mumbled together in a jumbled mess.

A phone rings through the hot air between you. A groan leaving your lips as you fumbled behind your back, picking up the buzzing phone without a glance at the screen for Jay to answer. You stopped bouncing on his dick, giving yourself a small break as he held the device up to his ear.

“What’s up?” Jay asks without a hitch, voice steady but his eyes stay glued to your body. His free hand sat at your waist, rolling your hips forward against his own as your eyes widened, biting back a muffled moan. “We’re a little preoccupied,” He answers after a beat, loud voices jumbling together and you watch the smirk form on his features. From the smug tone of his voice, and the coincidence of the both of you disappearing without explanation, it didn’t take a genius to know what you two went off to do.

He juts his hips forward, skin slapping together creating a clap and your hand flies up to your mouth. He pulls the phone away for a split second, the same cheeky smile on his features as he winks. “Yeah we’ll meet you guys after,”

You heard a series of voices, no doubt your friends and in particular hearing Manon scream through the speaker that Jay winced at. He rolls his eyes, ending the call and tossing the phone beside him on the backseats. “Always interrupting us,” He tsks playfully, hands helping you bounce up and down and hips meeting your own at an equal rhythm. You smiled, though it didn’t last as moans fell from your lips, his name repeated like a prayer while Jay leaned forward, one hand falling to your clit and managing to capture one of your tits in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple and sucking with a pop.

“Good job baby,” Jay praises, heavy breaths leaving his lips. Your eyes squeeze shut, palms pressed to his chest and he could feel your pussy clench around him. “There you go, make yourself cum on my dick, yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You mewl. A whine comes from your lips, the familiar pit in your stomach tightening and the feeling of his cock hitting deep into your cervix was enough to push you over the edge. You could hear Jay’s heavy breathes, each becoming more shallow, his grip tightening on your body, and quiet moans followed the feeling of your walls that clenched around him.

“Fuck, oh my—fuck, Jay please,” You hips jut down, stopping the in and out thrust to instead feel every inch of his dick buried all the way inside you. You rock yourself back and forth, fast and deliberate, chasing the pleasure while Jay couldn’t help himself, eyes ravishing the way you used him, the sight of your tits bouncing in his face and the fucked out look you sent him was enough.

Almost simultaneously, you tense, body shaking and pussy clenching with a loud series of moans. Feeling your own orgasm, the heat that flooded within you added to the euphoric feeling, the twitch of Jay’s dick buried inside you—shooting out hot beads of cum directly in your cunt, was overstimulating in the best way possible.

“Good job pretty girl,” Jay pants, head thrown back against the seats, hands gripping your thighs stopping your body from bucking, legs tense against his own. “You did so well, such a good girl f’me,”

You slump against his body, head buried in the crook of his neck with his arms wrapped around your waist. The slight sweat on your bodies ignored, pressed against one another as close as humanly possible as you regain your breath. “M’tired,” You mumble, words whispered against his skin and Jay laughs lightly.

“I know my love,” He agrees, a hand soothingly trailing up and down your back. A lingering kiss was placed to your cheek, sweet and innocent, filled with more than lust from before. You turn your head slightly, enough so your faces are centimeters apart but able to look at Jay. His eyes were glossy, a certain fondness in his gaze that you couldn’t help but smile at. “What’s so funny?” He tsked, though he sported a toothy grin of his own at the sight of your glowing state.

“You like me,” You giggle, a little delirious but entirely satisfied with the childish statement. He chuckles, nodding once with another short peck to the tip of your nose.

“I do,” he confirms. “You like me too,”

“I do,” You repeat, the same giddy expression on your features. Jay hums, his gaze flickering away from you after a moment. Silence fills the car, your steady breaths mixing but your eyes stay trained on Jay, at first merely admiring his features in the dim lighting, but you felt a subtle shift in his demeanor.

If you didn’t know him so well, you could’ve missed it. So you sat up slightly, your finger reaching out to poke the dimple in his cheek, pulling him out of the daze where he was staring out the car window. He blinks, shaking his head and gently moving your hand away from his face, lacing your fingers together instead.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, words quiet and soft, as if you spoke too loud it would break the bubble you were in. Jay hums, shaking his head with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You frown, sitting up entirely to look at him properly. “Jay,”

“Nothing baby,” He reassures, though it did little to help the visible nervousness in his eyes. You tilt your head, completely disregarding the fact that he was practically cock warming you, and entirely ready to have a proper conversation. “I promise, s’nothing important,”

“We just had insanely good car sex but you look worried instead of relieved,” You deadpan. “It’s important now. Talk to me Jjong, you know I’d rather know than you let it fester alone,”

Jay pauses, taking a deep breath as his eyes shut. The hand interlocked with your own squeezing tighter, as if he were afraid you’d slip through his fingers. “Is…” He begins, a slight crack in his voice and you frown. Jay opens his eyes to meet your own, the visible glossiness holding back tears which causes you to react immediately, your free hand brushing against his cheek as you urge him to continue. “Would it scare you away if I told you I love you?”

You pause, mouth parting agape in surprise. Your heart begins to thump in your chest, loud enough you were sure he could hear it too. “You’re not just saying that out of post-nut delusions, right?” You mumble, lamely attempting to lighten the air between you, giving Jay the room to take back his words but he shook his head.

“I know we only agreed to something real a few months ago,” He starts, a nervous smile playing at his lips but his words stay steady. “And we’re not technically official,” Jay snickers, shooting you a pointed look while you laugh, the nervousness in your expression obvious and you could feel the lump in your throat growing. “But we’ve been doing, whatever this is, for a year. It’s been you for me from the start, and I think with me finally pursuing you in the way I should’ve a long time ago allowed for clarity,”

Your vision grew blurry, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes that mirrored Jay’s. The confession was vulnerable, you felt shy and entirely too nervous to function but the warmth that spread in your stomach let you know that the inkling of fear was a good thing.

“I’m not expecting you to say it back,” Jay says quickly, a deep breath leaving his lips as if it were out of relief. His hand reaches up, fingertips grazing against your skin and pushing away the strands of hair that fell into your gaze. “Trust me—I’ve been thinking about it. A lot,” He admits, you letting out a watery laugh as he smiles. “It popped in my head one day, it felt dumb at first. But since then every time we were together, every time I thought about you, every time we said goodnight it was like a reflex, it feels right,”

You were at a loss for words, staring back at Jay with the start of tears beginning to dance down your cheeks. It was overwhelming, and you’d be sure to look back on it one day and laugh at the fact that your first ‘I love you’ came after a rendezvous in the car on New Years but for now, it was perfect.

“Who knew Mr. Bad Reputation could be such a softie, crying as he confessed his undying love for me?” You giggle, allowing for Jay to brush away your tears with the pads of his thumb. He rolls his eyes, wiping away the stray few that managed to escape the corners of his own but he stared back at you with the same fondness. “You love me, Park Jongseong?”

“I love you, Lee Y/N,” He confirms, the words soft but clear. You couldn’t help the smile that fell on your features, leaning forward to place a long, lingering kiss to his lips that you felt Jay grin against.

“I guess I love you too,” You tease, words mumbled against his skin and Jay snickers, arms wrapped around you keeping you close. Your hands tangled in his messy hair, basking in the warmth between you with small, innocent kisses shared between you.

A ping echoed simultaneously from your phones. The brightness from the screens lit up the dim car, both your eyes falling to Jay’s phone which was still placed beside him, a new message from the shared group chat between your friends the cause. But you paused, noting the time displayed at the top of the screen. Jay, seemingly reading your mind, sent you a heart stopping grin.

“Happy New Year, Jjong,”

“To many more nights like this, pretty girl,”

[rotapathetic]

͏͏͏✧ ྅ ˚ . ᯇ * TWITCH STREAMER!RAFE IS LIVE ㅤ⁝ㅤ opening p.o. mail ۫ : .

❛i get why you hid her i would too❜ : bold text is stream chat! 💬

rafe cut the tape of the box, glancing at the chat. “my p.o. box is linked in discord i think, but mods, could you link it and pin it? thanks.” he looked down when he finally got the box open.

“alright, first one of the day. i’ll name this stream p.o. mail then change it later. there is a lot, and i’m opening them all because i’ve been meaning to get to it, so buckle in i guess.”

user pretty box user is it cool if i just send a letter? i don’t have any items to send right now user open mine next!!

“you don’t even have to send anything, but if you do, it most definitely doesn’t have to be an item. i love letters and i appreciate them, that’s totally fine. . and let me know which box is yours when you see it,” he addressed both chats.

rafe pulled out the first thing inside which was a little packaging. he opened it, pulling out a couple of keychains. some of them had legos attached or a little trinket, or just pretty stones. “woah, this is cool. you know your stuff, you know i like legos. this will make me use keychains more, thank you. is it okay if i give the others to someone? she’ll love them.”

user that’s my box! yes, i made the other ones for her lol

rafe read the chat, raising a brow. “oh, really? that’s so nice. yeah, she’ll go crazy. i’ll set them aside for her.”

rafe clipped one of the chains onto his pants, putting the rest away. he reached back into the box, pulling out a funko pop and a blind box. rafe chuckled when he noticed the difference. “did you make a his and hers box? one thing for me, the other for her?”

user at first i was mainly putting in things for her 😭 then i remembered i should put stuff you like too user that’s such a cute idea user she’ll love that

“that’s insanely kind you thought of her. she’ll really appreciate it.” rafe grabbed the last thing which was a note. he read it aloud, “‘hi, rafe. i just wanted to give you some things in return for giving me a new favorite streamer lol. i watched one vod a month ago and have since watched like all of your streams. you’re pretty funny i guess. there’s stuff for both of you guys in here so hope you like them,’ and then she drew a smiley face,” rafe finished the letter.

“don’t try to humble me about being funny, you know i am. but thanks so much. i keep all of these letters just so you guys know. i don’t throw them out or anything.”

user sweeettt user there he goes trying to be funny again

rafe put the items back inside the box, separating the letter, and put it to the side. “alright, next box. this is from. .” rafe tilted the box to read the name, “a crochet business. oh, that’s cool, my girlfriend crochets,” he opened it, pulling out a note. he read it aloud, “‘big fan of your streams! but i heard your girlfriend likes crochet. . so i made some things for her. hopefully she likes them!,’” rafe read.

“and this is her business,” rafe held up the box where there was a qr code and the name of their shop.

user wait this is all for her awhh

“she will really like this. i’ll let her open it.” rafe stood and walked off camera to roll over another gaming chair and put it next to his.

user wait a minute. . user awh she has her own chair

“pretty girl. .” rafe called out, “could you come here?” rafe looked to the doorway, waiting for you. when you appeared, slightly nervous, rafe held out a hand. “there’s something for you.”

you made your way to him, accepting his hand, then placing both on his shoulders, glancing over them to see what he held. “what is it?”

“sit down, you have to open them.” rafe looked over his shoulder to you. so you did, sitting in the chair he pulled over. the chair he bought when you told him you felt comfortable to be on camera now. the chair he had customized, despite your reluctance.

you sat, putting your hands in your lap, avoiding looking into the camera. that’s probably weird to do.

user dude finally user reveal!!! user wait chat don’t make a big deal or she’ll never come back user i get why you hid her i would too user prettyyy user hi!!

rafe handed you the box, giving all of his attention to you instead of the viewers. he wanted to make sure you felt as comfortable as possible and not like thousands of people were watching you.

“opening my p.o. mail and someone sent you some crochet items. want to see the note?” your eyes widened, taking in the box. “really? yeah, can i see?” you reached for the note, reading it. your shy disposition faltered slightly at seeing something cute, and it was made for you. you slightly pouted as you read, looking up to rafe. “no way. rafe, this is so sweet.”

rafe bit a smile, nodding. “it is. i said you would like it.”

you looked to the monitor that displayed the chat, trying to catch all of the chats, but they were moving pretty quickly.

user what’s your @ ?? user open it!! user i think the owner is in the chat user yeah, she’s freaking out

“um. . to whoever sent this, thank you. i will for sure check you out. i know i’ll love this,” you looked back down to the package, opening it. inside was one balaclava, a plushie, headphone covers, and a keychain.

you were in awe as you pulled out each item, showing them to the camera. “i have to wear this balaclava, it’s so cute. you know my color palette,” you put it on, looking to rafe. “cute, right?”

he couldn’t hold back his smile now, pulling out his phone to take a picture. “i have to capture this. baby’s first stream and mail.”

user i’m sooo happy for you guys love that really user is it okay if i make fan art of you??

rafe read the chat, grabbing another package, this one smaller than the first two. “if you could draw me, that’d be dope, yeah.” rafe opened it, pulling out two small containers.

user not you! sorry, her

rafe was still frowning at the items, unsure what they were as you read the chat for him. “me?” you pointed a finger to your chest. “that would be awesome, yes it’s okay. you don’t have to!”

rafe was still unaware of the chat, scrunching a brow, and tilting the item up. “are these nails? ohhh, they’re nails.” rafe showed the little containers to you. you gasped, grabbing them. “oh my gosh, these are so cute! i love them,” you examined them both, both sets nail sets you would wear. how did someone know you would like these?

rafe looked to the monitor. “do you guys want me to just leave the stream?” he partially joked, mostly serious.

user yes! user i mean we weren’t going to say it

you shook your head, “no, this is your thing. i’m sure there is stuff for you, of course.” you showed the nails to the camera. “guys, look at how adorable. is your business name somewhere?”

you turned the package around, spotting the name. “pretty and pressed, that’s so cute. i really like these, thank you so much. okay, rafe’s turn. no more me.” you even rolled your chair back a little, putting the attention on him.

rafe rose a brow, pulling your chair back by the armrest, closer to him this time. “right. . on to the next. .” he grabbed a bigger box with wording on the top. “e.l.f.? it’s not christmas time?”

your head swiveled to look at the box. “no, it’s not. .” rafe shrugged, showing the box to you. “yeah, e.l.f. you know them?”

user no way!! user hello? 😭 user not the christmas elf rafe!

“rafe, this is a makeup brand. that can’t be right. .” you didn’t want to accept another gift on a stream that isn’t even yours! “they have products men can use, skincare stuff. i’m sure that’s for you.” you tried to rationalize.

rafe opened the lid, grabbing the note that lied on top. he read aloud, “‘we heard there was a mystery girl that your chat has been going crazy over! no pressure, just let her know we have some items we think she’d love! love, the e.l.f. team,’” rafe read.

user oh she’s getting pr!!

“baby, this is for you! that’s so cool. this is cool, right? i still don’t know who they are.” rafe tried handing the box to you. instead, you sat still, staring it. “there’s stuff you can use in there, right?” you asked.

rafe looked into the box, shaking his head. “no, this looks like makeup.” he tried handing it over again.

you stammered. “but rafe. . this is really cool, yes, and i’m grateful, but where’s your mail? why do i have so much?”

rafe smiled at your upset face. “because they thought exactly what i did when i first saw you. wanted to buy you things before i even talked to you.”

[thatonegrimm]

Hi grimm! I'm a sucker for opposites so can I get the saja boys x angel reader? Like full innocence, never hurt or be mean to anybody, and of course the wings.

Anon, are you haunting my brain and drafts??? Because I swear I’ve had this exact idea floating around (and like... several versions semi-written). 😭🪽 Opposites with a literal angel reader?? Yes. Absolutely. Here you go!

🌙Saja Boys x Angel!Reader

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

🧿 Jinu

Jinu has studied celestial beings. Respected them. Feared them.

But he has never been held in the gaze of one who smiles at him like he’s not a mess of laws and failure.

You radiate calm. Grace. The kind of warmth that makes the soul ache. You offer your hand to injured creatures, whisper blessings under your breath, and greet strangers with small bows like you’re honored to meet them.

And you choose him?

Jinu’s entire sense of logic shatters.

“You deserve someone who shines like you,” he says once, eyes cast down. “Then maybe it’s a good thing you do,” you answer.

His heart physically stutters.

You once patched up a scratch near his pattens. When your fingertips brushed the edge of it, it glowed—not with corruption, but with acceptance.

“You’re not tainted,” you told him gently. “You’re transforming.”

He hasn’t stopped blushing since. (Or looking at you like you’re the last prayer he has left.)

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

💪 Abby

The first time Abby saw you, he tried to stand behind you instinctively. Not to hide—just to protect.

Because you looked like something holy. Untouched. Good in a way the world didn’t deserve.

And then you offered him a cookie and complimented his smile and called him gentle—and he short-circuited.

He doesn’t know how to hold something like you without breaking it. He carries furniture and enemies like they weigh nothing, but your hand in his makes him move like you’re made of light.

“You don’t need to protect me all the time,” you say once, brushing soot from his shoulder. “I know,” he says. “I just… want to.”

He builds little wooden birdhouses for your winged friends. He brings you flower seeds and says “they made me think of you.” You give him glowing compliments like they’re casual, and he turns pink for ten minutes straight.

He’s used to being big. Strong. The one who takes up space.

But with you?

He’s careful. Loved. And learning how to be soft without feeling small.

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

📚 Mystery

You touched the edge of his sleeve once and whispered, “You don’t scare me.”

He’s been haunted ever since.

Mystery doesn’t understand you. You shimmer like morning fog and move like you’ve never known fear. You talk to plants and write affirmations in chalk on cracked sidewalks. You sing without knowing it.

And you smile at him like his silence is sacred, not scary.

He’s terrified of what your wings will do when they brush his shadow. But you never hesitate. You step into his presence like it’s safe there.

“You think darkness erases goodness,” you say, one night under moonlight. “But you are proof that it doesn’t.”

That’s the first time he rests his head in your lap.

He starts leaving his books open to passages about angels. Not out of fear. But because he wants to understand you. To earn the peace you carry like second nature.

You once glowed when you kissed his temple. He hasn’t mentioned it.

But he’s kept every feather you’ve shed near him. Wrapped carefully in black ribbon. Like a talisman.

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

💋 Romance

Romance drops to one knee the second he sees your wings.

You laugh—bright and warm—and help him up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He flirts constantly. He calls you “my divine disaster,” “heaven’s softest secret,” and “God’s favorite problem.” And yet—when you call him “kind,” he forgets how to speak.

You compliment his voice and he tries to pretend it’s no big deal. But then you add, “It makes my heart feel steady,” and he physically has to sit down.

“I don’t know how to deserve you,” he admits once, voice raw. “You already do,” you whisper.

He starts brushing your wings with care. Braiding small charms into the feathers. Not for protection—he knows you don’t need it. But because he wants to adorn you with joy the way you adorn his life with peace.

When you defend him—calmly, fiercely—to someone who scoffs at his charm, he looks at you like you hung the stars.

“He’s not shallow,” you say. “He’s brave enough to love loudly in a world that fears softness.”

He has never loved anyone harder than he loves you in that moment.

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

🔥 Baby

You're everything he doesn’t understand and everything he secretly wants.

You’re soft without weakness. Light without sharp edges. You glow when you’re happy. You hum when you make tea. You once bandaged his knuckles after a fight and whispered, “You don’t always have to fight to be strong.”

And he didn’t know what to do with that.

So he scowled.

And you smiled anyway.

“Why are you like this?” he asked, frustrated. “Because someone has to be,” you said gently. “And maybe I want it to be me.”

He keeps his distance for a while. Watches you from doorways. Pretends not to care when your feathers brush against his arm.

But when someone insults you—calls you naive—he nearly sets the pavement on fire.

You pull him back with a soft hand on his shoulder and a whisper:

“I don’t need saving.”

“…Yeah,” he says, eyes burning. “But you make me want to be worth saving.”

He won’t admit he’s proud of the feather you tied into his necklace.

But he hasn’t taken it off since.

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

M-List

[sugxto]

shared frequency - eddie x volt

⋆syn: The morning after the reset, Volt and Eddie have a conversation about your new dynamic.

⋆wc: 2.2k

⋆cw: m/m blowjobs, cum eating/swallowing, another where they’re kinda fantasizing about you while they fuck

⋆notes: takes place the morning after “brutalizer(s)” within power dynamics, but can be read as a standalone “they fucked after the reset” independent one shot. the person eddie and volt are discussing is completely gender neutral. they're referred to as "human," with they/them pronouns, and no descriptions of genitalia or features. e/v masterlist.

⋆snippet:

Eddie has to be sure. “I’d never do anything that could ever mean losing you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Eddie.” Volt’s touch is warm again, and it floods through Eddie’s circuits like a whiskey sour. “I’ve only ever known how to love you.”

Sometime, in the early morning hours, the human had slipped away from Volt and Eddie’s bed, had given them kisses on their cheeks and said they had to go, they had to make sure something had enough charge, but they’d be back soon, they promised.

It was the norm for Volt and Eddie to wake up beside each other, and never, in their years sharing existence, had either of them woken up feeling lonely - until this morning, when the feeling of only one body in his bed makes Eddie feel… off.

He shoves the thought aside, though, when Volt’s lips find his ear, and the ends of his hair spark by his ear.

“Good morning, my darling.”

Eddie fucking loves Volt’s morning voice - but hey, keep that a secret.

He hums as he rolls over, finds Volt already propped up on his elbow, leaning over him. Eddie knows that look in his eyes, that sparkle, and he cocks an eyebrow. “Someone looks happy.”

Volt smiles, runs his fingers along Eddie’s arm. “Well, we had a good night, didn’t we?”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, after Volt almost fucking died.

But instead, he says, “I remember.”

“I told you they wanted us.”

He sighs. Maybe if he closes his eyes again, sleep will come, very very fast. “You did.”

“And wasn’t it exactly what we’d hoped for?” 

The downside of your partner being electricity incarnate, Eddie thinks, is that he’s always switched to on. Which wasn’t always Eddie’s favorite mode in the mornings, especially not after last night.

“It was,” he grumbles.

“We said we loved them.”

“I -” he pauses, because yeah, he can’t deny that. But they had said it first, and it seemed… right, in the moment. “Yeah, fine, we did.”

Volt’s twinkling eyes rake over his face. “Did we mean it?” As he says it, his hand comes to find Eddie’s resting on his chest, and with the touch comes a wave, a surge of indescribable warmth that flows between them, connects them not just through skin, but through their very hearts.  

They’re both quiet for a moment, only breathing together, but they know. They know that when they touch, their emotions become theirs, no longer separate, like they see things through each other’s eyes. 

And this warmth…

They both know what it means. It’s the same certainty they feel when they’re here, in their bed, sharing kisses and touches and breath and thoughts.

And it must be love.

Eddie feels it in Volt’s touch, in the current he shared, but he also knows that he feels it inside himself, that he reciprocates this certainly that Volt is sharing with him. 

They know they don’t have to say anything, their eyes never leaving each other, understanding without words, without complications. But still, Eddie says, with the smallest smile on his lips and voice barely above a whisper, “I guess we did, didn’t we?”

He cups Volt’s face when he leans down to kiss him, and Volt’s hand on his chest climbs up, up, to tangle itself in Eddie’s hair. Eddie welcomes his little breaths, deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue inside his mouth, and it’s like he recharges at the sounds of the moan Volt makes. 

When they part, it’s only enough for Volt to speak, his lips still ghosting over Eddie’s as he does. “Are you alright with that?”

Eddie’s grey eyes search white ones, and he sighs softly. “I… yes. I am. But I just…” he swallows, feels his heart thrum with excitement, contentment, want, “I can’t quite believe it.”

Volt strokes the top of Eddie’s head with his thumb, tugs slightly on his hair, and he pecks another kiss to his lips. “I can’t either, my darling.”

“I didn’t plan it.”

“I know we didn’t.”

He holds Volt’s face a little tighter, and knows his voice gets a little faster. “And this isn’t - fuck, Volt, it’s always been you -”

“And it’s always been you, Eddie -”

“You know it’s - that it’s not because -”

“I do, Eddie,” Volt says, warmly, lovingly, as his hand slips down to Eddie’s cheek. “My darling, you have nothing to worry about. We have nothing to worry about. I know I’m… protective of you.” He says it with a smirk that, in another conversation, may make Eddie roll his eyes. “But I owe you everything, and I am yours, just like you’re mine. And the human doesn’t want you, or me - they want us. Only us, and isn’t that what we’ve always wanted? To not have to be apart?”

He’s right, Eddie thinks, he usually is, the bastard. And it sparks something in Eddie’s heart that feels like he’s at full power, able to conquer anything, and it feels complete. Because he couldn’t, wouldn’t, be away from Volt. He’d let himself deplete and die before he was alone again, and the human… 

They’d seen that. Not only that, but they’d helped ensure that wouldn’t happen. Showed that they would do everything they could to save both of them. 

So how could Volt and Eddie do anything but love them? 

But still, Eddie has to be sure. “I’d never do anything that could ever mean losing you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Eddie.” Volt’s touch is warm again, and it floods through Eddie’s circuits like a whiskey sour. “I’ve only ever known how to love you.”

Grey eyes flick to soft lips, back up to white eyes, and Eddie can only nod, only hold Volt’s buzzing skin tighter in his hands, because he’s never been good at saying it, but everyday, he knows Volt feels it. And in response, Volt kisses him again, sweet, lush kisses that are better than words, and their arms are around each other, chests pressed together. 

Volt’s lips move to Eddie’s jaw, his neck, his shoulder, as Eddie’s hands find his hair, controlling the bolts with practiced touch. Between kisses on Eddie’s skin, Volt says, his smirk audible, “And it makes it easy that they’re a fantastic fuck.”

Eddie groans, and his cock makes a twitch at the memory, how hot, how wet, how needy they’d been. How they felt like they’d been made to fit around their cocks. All the gorgeous, filthy sounds they’d made, because Volt was right, and he needed to hear them again. 

“Next time,” Volt teases, his tongue on his neck, and Eddie gasps when he grinds their hips together, “you have to taste them for yourself. Tell me,” another roll of his hips, another twitch of their cocks, “how was their mouth?”

Eddie tightens his hands on Volt’s hair, relishes the resulting moan, and his voice is raw when he says, “It was fucking perfect.”

He feels Volt’s chuckle in his neck, feels his cock grow against his own. “Mm. Is that so? Am I going to have some competition?”

Eddie turns his head to press his lips close to Volt’s ear, holds him still, waiting, before he responds. “You wanna give me something to compare it to?”

Faster than light, Volt is between his legs, stomach on the bed and firey, bright white eyes staring up at him, excited, hungry.

Eddie settles himself further up the bed, leans against the pillows, props himself on his elbows for the best view, but he breathes out a curse when, without warning, his cock is swallowed up by Volt’s warm, greedy mouth. He nearly loses his balance when he hits the back of his throat, and Volt makes a hum of satisfaction that vibrates around him. 

God, he feels so fucking good, hot and wet and right - like home, like all he’s ever wanted, all he only ever hoped for in the nights he spent alone. 

He feels Volt’s tongue expertly twist around him, follow the veins of his cock like it’s in his nature, and Eddie’s eyes flutter closed when he leans his head back, letting this warmth consume him.

Volt digs his fingers into the flesh of his thighs, and their currents hum together where they touch. His lips wrap around the head before his tongue trails down the shaft, wetting Eddie more with his spit. His breath is hot, electric, when he purrs, “Imagine if they were here too, sitting on your mouth while I took my time with you.”

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, seeing the image so clearly in his mind, reminiscing on the taste of them that he’d found in Volt’s mouth. “You, fuck, baby, just wanna show off for them.”

“Hmm, maybe I do.” Volt wraps his hand around him, strokes him up, down, and kisses the head. “Show them how good I can make you feel.”

Eddie, through heavy lidded eyes, finds Volt’s hair again, wraps it around his fist, and yanks, Volt’s resulting gasp making him smirk. “You wanna be good?”

Volt nods, limited in his movement, sparks dancing in his wide eyes. 

“Then don’t take your fucking mouth off me again.” He bucks his hips up as he pulls Volt’s lips back to his cock, and they open, effortlessly, and Volt takes. 

He takes Eddie entirely, takes his moans, his tight hold on his hair, all the way to the back of his throat, and swallows, and he glows at the sound Eddie makes - guttural and low, dripping with want. He preens at the “good boy, you feel so fucking good, baby” that fall from Eddie’s lips, and he ruts his hips, his aching cock, into the mattress beneath him. 

Through the haze of his pleasure, Eddie notices (he always notices, Volt thinks), and he hums. “Fucks sake, you can’t get enough, can you?” His voice is wry, and it goes straight to Volt’s cock. “My cock in your mouth and still needing more?”

Volt whines around him, his hips bucking into the bed again, because yes, yes, he needed more, and Eddie knows it, knows how it makes him feel when he pulls at his hair again.

“What - fuuck - what did you say, in the office? You want me inside you w- god - while they ride you?” Eddie’s voice is mean, with just enough bite that he knows shorts the circuits in Volt’s brain. “You, you think that’d finally fucking satisfy you?”

Volt’s eyes are pleading as he grinds into the sheets, his mouth working Eddie’s cock so fast, so well, that the resulting sounds are slick, sinful, coupled by the groan of the mattress beneath Volt’s hips. His fingers singe Eddie’s skin from the death grip he’s keeping on his thighs, trying to take as much as he’s physically allowed. 

Eddie’s chuckle is gruff as he adds a second hand to Volt’s hair, holding him still, and he thrusts his hips up into Volt’s hot throat, making his white eyes practically flicker. “I’m not sure it would. You’re so,” he thrusts again, “fucking,” again, “greedy.”

Yes, Volt thinks, able only to moan, to drool as Eddie fucks his mouth, give me everything, everything, Eddie.

“So you’re gonna take, fuck yes, what I give you, yeah? Gonna be good?” Eddie’s voice is hurried now, his breath labored, and Volt just knows he’s close. He hisses through his teeth, says, “Gonna fuck yourself while you take it?”

Volt hums around him, tries to tell him he can, he will, because yes, he’s so greedy, he needs it, wants it, and lets his jaw go as slack as he can while he ruts, hopelessly, into the friction of the sheets. It’s nothing compared to Eddie, any part of him - his mouth, his hands, his hole - but it’s something, and more than anything, he wants to be good for him. 

Eddie’s hips are losing stability, his thrusts erratic into Volt’s mouth, and he groans, tightens his hands around white hair - he’s so close, fuck he feels so good, and he opens his eyes, finds Volt’s gaze, and -

His climax hits him like lightning, a familiar white flash behind his eyes, and he curses through his teeth as his cum fills Volt’s mouth with small twitches from his cock. Volt’s hips are pounding into the bed, chasing exactly what Eddie told him to, and it’s the soft “that’s it, you did so good,” that Eddie whispers as he swallows, that pushes Volt over the edge as well. His hips shake, his cock sensitive, as he feels the slick of his cum pool on the sheets and stick to his stomach.

Ever greedy, ever proud, Volt savors the ache in his jaw when they finally separate, and he makes a show of licking his lips when Eddie finally releases his hair, his heart swelling with love at the resulting eye roll that he knew would come. 

They both sit up, limbs heavy, warm contentment in their veins, when Eddie says, in a tired voice with a curve to his lips, “Maybe having two of us to wear you out will do you good.”

Volt chuckles, and he notices his throat feeling a bit raw as he does it. “Never, darling. I’m always fully charged.”

Eddie huffs, steel eyes hiding a hint of amusement. “Don’t I fucking know it. But, ya know,” he shuffles his weight, comes to sit on his knees in front of Volt, and runs his finger down Volt’s chest until he finds the remnants of his climax stuck to his skin above white coils, meeting Volt’s gaze as he scoops some onto his fingertip, and brings it to his lips, “I think we can be up to the challenge.”

When he takes his finger out of his mouth, Volt’s lips find him, his tongue swiping into Eddie’s, hungry for him, for more, for everything, and they fall back to the ruined sheets, hands and tongues tangled around each other as tight as they can manage.

[playg0d]

about you | a carmen berzatto x reader songfic

summary: you’re the one carmen can never let go of, no matter how hard he tries. based on the 1975 song.

wc: 8k

warnings and tags: angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, swearing, claire mentions, some spoilers for s4

a/n: hello everyone! this is my first work in a long long time so i took it as a pen exercise, trying to write for the biggest tv crush i've had in a while to one of my favorite songs. i got so carried away with it beware 💀 i had to get my feelings out after watching s4 y'all!!

i know a place. it's somewhere i go when i need to remember your face.

he opens his eyes in the middle of his dark room. just like that. no reason, no sound. just awake.

it’s been happening a lot lately. so often that he doesn’t even get annoyed anymore. waking up before the alarm, his body already heavy with the weight of the day ahead. tired in a way that no sleep seems to fix. his muscles ache from another late night at the restaurant, a few hours of rest never enough to undo the strain. and he hasn’t even moved yet.

carmen blinks hard, trying to shake the sleep from his eyes, gaze settling on the window. it’s still dark out. only the orange streetlights casting vague shapes across his room, giving the shadows some kind of meaning.

his brain starts doing that thing again. jumping ahead, building the day's list before he can stop it. the stress creeps in before he even leaves the bed. he’s already forgotten something, he knows it. already late for something, even if the clock says otherwise. he can hear sugar’s voice in his head like it never left: did you check the budget i sent last week? how are we supposed to keep paying all these people if you won’t even sit down and read it? did you know jimmy’s supposed to come this week to talk about—

his alarm cuts in.

too loud. too sharp. especially in all this quiet.

he grabs the phone from the nightstand, silences it before it can ring more than a few seconds.

once the room goes still again, a bit of clarity returns. not peace, exactly, but something close. he exhales slowly through his nose, thumb still resting on the phone, and unlocks it. his fingers move without thinking. open messages, scroll down. the screen lights up, casting a cold glow across his face. it’s your thread.

this. this is another thing he’s been doing too much lately. and he doesn’t really know how to stop. at this point, he’s pretty sure it’s veering into something unhinged. obsessive. like he’s clinging to something that’s not there anymore and pretending it is.

you: the future looks bright chef!

that was the last message. weeks ago.

he frowns, but scrolls anyway. because this small, digital space, this ghost of a connection, is all he has right now. and somehow, it brings him a weird kind of comfort. not the real thing. not even close. it’ll never be the same as seeing you walk into the restaurant every day, laughing at something richie said, your perfume hanging in the air like a memory he doesn’t know how to let go of. but it’s something. and he’ll take something.

he stops on a selfie you sent from that birthday party. friend-of-a-friend. he remembers you whining about it the day before, pouting in that way that always made something in his chest loosen. you’d told him you didn’t want to go, that your friend had begged you to come so she wouldn’t be alone.

trying to hang on to any kind of connection outside of work, he’d boldly and very stupidly, asked you to send a selfie. for proof, he’d texted. he cringes now just thinking about it. what the hell was he doing? trying to be smooth? that wasn’t him. it never would be. he’d freaked out for a full half hour, especially when the word read sat quietly under his message, taunting him.

until your reply came in. a photo of your face. cheeks flushed, a mischievous smile aimed straight at him, eyes shining.

you looked so pretty. all dolled up for your night out with your friends. and he wanted to say just that. god, he almost did.

but he didn’t.

too much of a coward. too afraid of saying the wrong thing, of being rejected. of crossing a line. because at the end of the day, you were still one of his employees.

so instead, he reacted with a thumbs-up emoji and went to bed, heart racing, already half dreaming of you.

he keeps beating himself up in the shower, replaying everything he could’ve done differently. wishing he’d kept the conversation going. asked you what the hell you meant, talking about the future like you weren’t planning to be in it. it follows him through the morning. into the chill of the city streets, the L train, the walk to work. chicago isn’t fully awake yet and neither is he. just noise in his head and cold in his lungs.

he tries not to think too hard about the fact that you’re still on his mind.

but you are.

we get married in our heads. something to do while we try to recall how he met.

if richie knew, he probably would’ve laughed and called you a dumbass. after having a heart attack.

you knew richie loved carmen. despite all the shit he talked, all the complaints about his insane work ethic and the new way he ran the restaurant. you knew it. but you also remembered the way he used to go off about how carmen needed to get a fucking grip if he ever wanted to let someone close. because no way in hell that was gonna end well. not with how he was. that person would probably end up running for the hills. 

so yeah, you did start to feel a little worried when you noticed how your palms got sweaty anytime carmen leaned in to talk to you about something completely mundane at work. how the tiny hairs on your neck would stand up when he passed behind you, muttering “behind,” and placed a light hand on your back. 

you’d always felt so far removed from all the mushy romantic shit, so it was kind of shocking how your body kept reacting to this guy. it made you feel ridiculous, like some schoolgirl with a silly crush.

until time passed. and you started noticing how carmen watched you just as much as you watched him. how his voice would soften when he talked to you, how he’d leave his bad attitude at the door whenever he had to face you. how that hand on your back? it started lingering a little longer each time.

it didn't take long before you started to realize just how much carmy was your type. you hadn’t even known you had a type. but there he was. hard-working. completely focused on his craft. someone who actually cared about people. you saw it in the way he kept pushing syd, little by little, to be her best. in the way marcus lit up just listening to his stories about the insane dishes he’d worked on in those spectacular restaurants before he came here. how he was trying to turn that run-down sandwich shop into something meaningful for the sake of everyone who showed up every day to keep it alive.

and, yeah, it didn’t hurt that he was hot as all hell: wild curls, strong arms, that whole constantly-stressed-out genius thing. and those eyes.

falling in love with carmy had been so easy. you hadn’t meant to. richie’s voice echoed in your head from time to time, but honestly, you didn’t really care to listen. not once the two of you started to talk. really talk. 

he opened up about his brother. someone you only knew in pieces, through the fragments richie had shared. his own memories.

but one night, carm gave you his memories. he told you how much he looked up to mikey. how much he missed him.

to this day, you’re still not sure why he told you what he did, but he said it anyway. that he did go to mikey’s funeral. something richie never lets go. he’s always throwing it in carmen's face: you weren’t there, you fucking baby, you didn’t show up when it counted.

but carmen had shown up.

and you never told anyone.

he was intense, sure, but he could be so sweet. charming in that unintentional way that made it even worse. like how he thought you didn’t notice when he started changing up his schedule. taking breaks when you did. hanging around just long enough to keep the conversation going from the day before.

or maybe just to be there. to have those rare, quiet moments where it was only the two of you. no yelling, no tickets, no chaos. just silence and the way it wrapped around you both like it knew something neither of you had said out loud.

he made you feel too much.

and what made it even harder was how he kept responding to you. bar for bar. matching every glance, every shift, every subtle move. like he was just as caught up in it as you were.

you didn’t realize it until you were in too deep.

a night you still carry with you, when it was just you and carmy, the restaurant quiet after everyone had gone home. you were so drained from the long day, you couldn’t help flopping down on the bench in front of the lockers. carmy came out of the office and found you there, eyes closed, still sitting.

you thought he would grab his things and call it a night. but he didn’t move. maybe he didn’t want to disturb your peace.

when you opened your eyes, he froze.

you felt him watching you. of course you did. but you didn’t want him to stop. you wanted his eyes on you. always. you wanted him.

so when it was just the two of you, sitting in that quiet, feeling the tension like it was something alive between you, you reached out and took his hands.

his hands. god, how often had you thought about them? in passing, in silence, in the lonely hush of nights you didn’t want to spend alone. you ran your thumbs gently across his tattoos, the ink marking him with stories you hadn’t heard yet. you wanted to ask. you wanted to know all of it. but not now. not if it meant breaking the spell of this moment.

carmen looked down, confused at first. then he shifted, taking your hands this time, his fingers curling around yours.

but he didn’t say anything. just looked at you. his eyes held something you couldn’t read, like he was trying to tell you what he didn’t know how to express with words.

your heart was pounding so loud you swore he could hear it. 

and when he reached up, touched your face with the hand inked with the chef’s knife through the palm, you forgot how to breathe.

you didn’t even realize it until it was too late.

you shouldn’t have let it get this far. shouldn’t have let it consume you like this.

you should’ve listened to richie.

you and i (don’t let go) we’re alive (don’t let go). with nothing to do, i could lay and just look in your eyes.

it started as a little comment here and there. a name you’d never heard before slipping out of fak’s mouth.

then came a conversation you overheard while working alongside richie, with fak buzzing around the place like always. they were talking about an old family friend. a girl. how she turned out amazing (“a doctor, can you believe it, man?”). how fak saw her again recently. how he wished things could go back to the way they were. back when all of them had the best times. the bestest times. with claire.

claire.

you had no idea who she was. you’d never seen her around the restaurant, and sugar had never mentioned her. neither had carmy.

if you hadn’t been so intrigued, you probably would’ve felt annoyed. all this talk, putting her on a pedestal. it couldn’t be that deep, right? still, you couldn’t deny the jealousy creeping in as you listened to richie go on about claire as well. how she’d helped him through… something. honestly, you’d tuned out halfway through. something from back before he and tiff split.

you didn’t want to care. you really didn’t. but eventually, curiosity got the better of you. you even asked sydney if she knew who this claire person was.

she didn’t. she was just as lost as you.

meanwhile carmy was in peak stress, trying to change his family restaurant to a high dining establishment. you could see how much it was weighing on him, so you did what you could to be there, even in that weird, undefined place where you both were. trying to see through the fuzzy lines of your relationship. you didn’t know what it was and how to call it. but you remained supportive, in the form of listening to him rant or go to the nearest home depot when the paint ran out.

he still gave you butterflies, even with everything he had on his plate. the pressure, the stress, the weight of trying to rebuild something from the ground up. it never kept him from making you feel seen. important. like you mattered.

you could still feel his eyes on you when he thought you weren’t looking and that alone was enough to set your heart racing.

and your conversations, they didn’t just continue, they evolved. they became deeper, more intimate. he wanted to know you, really know you. not just the surface-level stuff, but your dreams, your fears, the things you’d kept tucked away for years, unsure if anyone would ever really want to hear them.

so you let him in. slowly, carefully. and with every shared secret, every charged late-night exchange, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something real growing between you. something worth holding on to.

it happened on a random day. nothing special about it. syd walked in with that look on her face, the one you’d come to recognize: frustration bubbling just beneath the surface, begging for a place to land. she didn’t even say hi before diving in, words spilling fast like they’d been waiting to escape her all morning.

“i finally figured out who claire is,” she said, tossing her tote bag onto a stool. “turns out she’s carmy’s sort-of childhood friend slash first love, which, by the way, i don’t even know what the hell's going on with them and they're already getting on my nerves. because now he’s distracted and i need him focused on this right here.” she waved her arms around the empty space to drive her point home.

you blinked, trying to process her words, but it felt like they hit you all at once.

you just stood there, frozen in the middle of the gutted kitchen, stripped bare for renovations.

your heart dropped.

you hadn’t seen that one coming.

wait (don’t let go) and pretend (don’t let go). hold on and hope that we’ll find our way back in the end.

he curses himself for telling fak he ran into claire at the grocery store. like fak was ever going to keep that to himself. now everyone knows. and everyone’s being weird. asking him a million questions about her, like he’s supposed to have some kind of plan. but he doesn’t. he hasn’t seen her in years. people expect him to pick up where they left off, but he doesn’t even know what that was, let alone what it’s supposed to be now.

carmy was painfully shy back then. when claire was around, always orbiting, always close but just out of reach. he never acted on how he felt. he just… pined, like a stupid kid. kept it all to himself. mikey used to tease him when he found those sketches in his notebooks. half-finished portraits of claire he never meant anyone to see. sugar would roll her eyes and tell him to man up, tell claire how he felt.

but he never did. and now, all these years later, people are acting like nothing’s changed. like he's supposed to feel the same. be the same. like some nice story about rekindled young love, which sounds great in theory, but in his case? those memories are laced with chaos. with the noise and mess of his old life. his life, period. it doesn't feel like something worth revisiting. he's not sure.

seeing claire again was nice. she was happy to see him, she remembered things he hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten. that part felt good. he won’t deny it. but this whole thing? it’s just one more thing added to the pile.

the renovations are behind schedule. jimmy’s breathing down his neck about the money. he can’t seem to get on the same page with syd. sugar’s riding his ass about everything from schedules to invoices.

and then there’s you. drifting further away from him every single day.

and that is what really stings. more than any of the rest of it.

he feels it all the time. in the little things. the small gaps where you used to be. the way your breaks never seem to line up with his anymore. how he used to find you already outside when he stepped into the alley, and now he just runs into you at the door, your break already over. he tries to catch your eyes in those moments, but you look down and walk past him like it’s nothing. like he’s nothing.

he watches you throughout the day, desperate for a sliver of connection. trying to catch you in conversation, even if it’s just something small. but you’re always busy. always somewhere else. always anywhere but with him.

and it’s killing him. he wonders if you’ve already figured it out, how fucked up he is. if you’ve seen too much and decided to back off before it’s too late. or maybe he overwhelmed you with the way he felt. crowded you, hovered over every little moment the two of you had. like he was one of those gross dudes who only came in to try and chat you up, get a peek at your ass and pretend it was about the food.

yeah. if you ever saw what was inside his head, you’d probably run.

because he craves you. constantly. and he’s done lying to himself about it. he likes you. likes being around you, likes how your mind works, the way you talk about things that matter. he loves that you don’t take yourself too seriously, but always seem to have the right words when someone’s in need. how you show up for your people without hesitation, no questions asked.

he loves your voice. your laugh. the way you look at him when you’re teasing, or when you’re serious. your silky hair, your pretty eyes, those pouty lips, and yeah, your body. that incredible body.

fuck. he’s lost count of how many times he’s imagined you underneath him, imagined how you’d sound, how you’d move, what it would be like to make you feel everything he’s been feeling.

he wants to give you that. all of it.

carmen hasn’t felt this way, this deep, this insane about anyone since… claire, maybe.

and he knows you felt it too. the something between you. it wasn’t just him. even if it was unspoken, it was there.

if he’s this wrapped up in you, then why did he catch tina and his sister talking like it’s obvious? like it’s real? 

“have you seen him? he follows her around like a lost puppy,” he remembers sugar laughing, sounding embarrassed.

“she’s not far behind,” tina has said, not missing a beat.

so why were you pulling away?

the answer became even harder to grasp the afternoon you walked into the office, clearly expecting to find just natalie. you startled slightly when you saw him sitting there too, then quickly masked it with a polite smile and a too-casual tone. said you had something to tell them both.

you were quitting.

a new opportunity had come up. sudden, unexpected, but too good to pass on. you said it aligned better with your professional goals, that it made more sense for where you were heading. your voice was soft, almost apologetic, sweet in that way that made it sting more. like you were trying to spare them, spare him, but still walking out the door.

his mind stopped registering your words after that. his body went still. mind blank. he kept his eyes down, too afraid to look up and see whatever expression was on your face. he just stared at the floor while you and sugar kept talking like everything wasn’t shifting underneath him. everything in him had gone still, cold.

he wanted to speak. to ask why. to understand. but the words sat heavy in his throat, unmoving. and as your voice trailed off and you turned to leave, his face flushed hot, his hands began to tremble. those early signs of panic tightening around his chest.

he should’ve followed you. should’ve asked what changed, what went wrong. why it suddenly wasn’t enough.

but he didn’t.

instead, he ended up in the back of the restaurant, alone, heart racing and breath caught in his lungs, trying to keep it together. hoping, praying, you’d show up like you always did. like you always had.

but this time, you didn’t.

and there was something about you that now i can’t remember. it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.

you couldn’t forget the restaurant even if you tried.

richie had been on your case for days after you quit. texting, calling, refusing to believe it. it blindsided everyone, but it hit him harder than most. because it was you. you had each other’s backs in there. if something had been off, why hadn’t you said anything?

you did your best to ease his worry. said there was nothing wrong, nothing dramatic. gave him the same explanation you’d given sugar. and carmy, though you weren’t sure how much of it he’d heard.

you were moving on.

the restaurant had been good to you. more than good, sometimes. you met people who felt like family, and for a while, it really felt like you belonged. but you had to think about yourself too. your goals, your growth. and the new job? it was a step forward. a better fit for the direction you wanted to go. you kept reminding yourself of that.

still, you couldn’t ignore the way things had shifted in those final days. how often claire’s name came up. how often you saw carmy tense at the mention of it, even if he tried to hide it.

fak, richie, even people you’d never seen in the restaurant before were suddenly showing up, nudging him toward her. pushing him to give it another shot. telling him she was good for him, that he’d be crazy to let her go, that this was his chance.

and every time you heard it, something in you sank.

because no matter what you and carmen had shared in the quiet, in the glances, in the almosts... you didn’t have a history like that with him. not old memories tied up in childhood and old neighborhoods. maybe that’s what it came down to.

syd and marcus were still your friends, even outside of the restaurant, and you thanked the heavens for that. you’d found something real with them: true friendship. if the restaurant left you with anything, it was that.

they kept you updated, told you everything with bright eyes and proud smiles. how the new place was coming together. how different it all felt from where you started. not just the food, but the energy. the ambition. the chaos.

you loved hearing their stories. the quirky guests, the impossible nights, the small wins that made it all worth it. you could tell how much they loved it, even when it was hard. and you were happy for them.

they told you about richie too. how much he’d changed. you told them you’d seen it too, because you still saw richie. he was too special a person to let go of.

then they’d mention carmy. how his meltdowns were getting more frequent. how things had shifted. you didn’t know much about him after you left. you hadn’t asked. they told you how he was seeing claire more seriously now. how marcus had casually dropped the word girlfriend when talking about her.

it stung. more than you let on. but you didn’t flinch. you nodded and smiled. you told yourself you’d moved on. you’d removed yourself from that world.

still, every time they talked about the bear, its struggles, its wins, the people inside it, it felt like hearing about a life you no longer lived.

and it was particularly hard because the bear wasn’t just a restaurant.

it was carmy, and after all this time everything still felt like him.

you might’ve felt completely defeated by that thought if it weren’t for syd.

over coffee one afternoon, she said it like it was nothing.

“he asked about you,” she uttered, her words cutting deep. “wanted to know if you were okay, if you’d ever come by.”

and i’ll miss you on a train. i’ll miss you in the mornin’. i never know what to think about.

carmen still wakes up before the alarm, long before the world stirs. the sky outside is dark, the streets quiet. that part hasn’t changed.

but he’s not alone in his bed anymore.

claire has started staying over sometimes, says it’s easier after her shifts, more convenient. he tells himself he doesn’t mind.

he slips out of bed carefully, trying not to wake her as he begins the ritual of getting ready. his movements automatic.

lately, the days have felt heavier. long, restless weeks stacking on top of each other. he’s been going through the motions, but the certainty that once drove him, the feeling that he was building something meaningful, has started to fade.

he used to believe that cooking was his purpose. that the kitchen was where he belonged. but now he isn’t so sure. maybe it was never really about the food. maybe it was just his way of holding onto mikey, of staying close to the memory of someone who once made him feel like there was something worth chasing.

and now that he’s here, with everything he thought he wanted, it still feels like something’s missing.

he’d had a really tough conversation with syd about it. one of those that left him feeling raw, exposed. richie had walked in halfway through and joined in, adding his own thoughts, his own frustration. by the end of it, carmy felt like he was letting everyone down, yet again. stepping back from the restaurant felt like the right call, perhaps the only way the bear could truly thrive free from his constant micromanaging and inevitable screw-ups. maybe, just maybe, he could rediscover the spark he'd lost, the part of him that used to love this.

he takes the train like he does every morning. the platform’s nearly empty, and when the car doors slide open, he steps into a quiet space with only a few scattered passengers. it's a small relief. no eyes on him, no one who knows his name or expects anything from him. just a few minutes of anonymity. a little room to breathe. maybe even think. maybe relax, though that's a stretch.

he had hoped that being with claire would help. that now, finally with her by his side, he’d start to feel more like himself again. like the younger version of him. that the shy, quiet kid who once thought having her would fix everything—was finally getting what he’d dreamed about for so long. but it doesn’t feel like that. not really.

and carm hates himself for it. because claire is wonderful. kind and patient. she jokes about the heavy things, tries to lighten the weight he carries, even if just for a second. she’s trying to help him heal, to pull him out of the worst parts of himself. and he knows that. but still, something feels off.

and that’s when he wonders… does that last message in the thread need a reply from him? should he beg richie for his phone again, like some desperate teenager, just to sneak another look at your instagram profile? should he face sydney, after everything he’s put her through, and ask once more if she’s heard from you? i think about you.

sometimes he lets himself imagine it. running into you. what he’d do. if he could get past the initial punch of seeing you again. really seeing you, after all this time. would he shrink back like he always used to, hide behind silence so he can keep pretending your absence hasn’t hollowed him out? or would he finally say something? ask for the truth. demand it, maybe. not to make you feel bad, but just to know. to confirm that it wasn’t all in his head. that everything you shared, everything he felt, wasn’t just one-sided. that thinking about you this much still means something.

as if that could ever actually happen. still…

he’s been secretly holding out hope all this time. clinging to the stupid fantasy of a chance encounter with you. on the L. on the street. some accidental moment that would change everything. he’s even taken the long way home more than once, just because he knew it passed near where you used to live. just for the slim chance of seeing you. but it never happened.

and as much as he tries to keep moving, your absence still lingers in the spaces he exists in.

tina still sighs about not having her dance partner during breaks and how no one laughs at her neighborhood gossip like you did. natalie wishes you were around so she could finally introduce you to sophie, her voice going soft every time she says your name. and richie? richie never shuts up about you, still clinging to the version of life where you and he had each other’s backs in the thick of it. he holds onto that chapter fiercely, and part of him is just waiting for you to walk back in and see how far he’s come and be proud.

but for carmy it’s different.

he didn’t just miss you.

he fell in love with you.

(don't let go)

he never said it, but it’s the truth.

it’s in how he still checks the door without realizing, expecting you to walk in. in how your voice still echoes in his head during the quietest parts of the day. in how nothing has felt right since you’ve been gone.

you didn’t just leave the restaurant. you took something with you when you walked out. and no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to get that part of him back.

do you think i have forgotten about you?

carmen’s no stranger to guilt. it’s been living inside him for years, settled deep in his bones. he remembers the feeling in new york, thinking of sugar and mikey, how he left them to deal with their mom and all her turmoil and unpredictability. remembers the guilt curling in his gut when he got that phone call, sugar barely able to get the words out between sobs: mikey's dead. guilt again, heavy and paralyzing, when he couldn’t get out of the car at his own brother's funeral.

and now it’s back. except it’s different. not the same restaurant stress that eats at his stomach on the regular. it’s outside of that. beyond it.

it’s every time he looks at claire.

it shows up in moments that are supposed to be soft. like when claire’s curled into him, warm and willing, tracing her fingers over his chest. saying something sweet, being provocative. trying to love him. telling him how good he is, and all he can think about is how much of a lie that is. how he doesn’t deserve this version of her. 

because his mind drifts, like it always does.

to you.

he’s not proud of it. he hates himself for it.

she’s here, she’s trying. she’s giving him something real. and you’re still in his head. still there when he closes his eyes, still the one he wishes he could see when he opens them.

he’s tried to snap out of it. thrown himself into his new role in the kitchen, started mending his relationship with his mom, tried being the kind of boyfriend claire deserves: one who listens, who shows up, who holds her when she falls asleep.

but none of it’s working.

and it’s not fair to claire. she doesn’t deserve to be the one holding the weight of something that was never hers to carry. so he did something he’s never really done before. not like this.

trying, really trying, to follow through on this whole doing things differently thing, carmen sat richie down and told him the truth. about how things with claire had started to fall apart. how it wasn’t her fault. how he couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

richie, being the closest person he had left, felt like the right one to tell, to get it out. and carmen took responsibility, fully. said it straight: he was the one messing things up. he’s the reason it’s falling apart.

but richie wouldn’t hear it.

“what the fuck are you talkin’ about?” richie’s already pacing, eyes wide, hands flailing. “you’re done with claire? now? jesus christ, cousin.”

“i didn’t say i was done, i just–i don’t know. it’s not working,” carmen shifts, trying to stay calm. 

“not working?” richie snaps. “what the fuck does that even mean? you finally got her and now you’re just what–bored?”

“it’s not about that,” carmy mutters, jaw tight.

“bullshit,” richie throws back. “you know how many guys would kill to be where you are right now?”

“i-i’m tellin’ you, it’s me. it’s not her,” carmen tries again, voice low.

richie scoffs, shaking his head. 

“you already pulled this shit once, carmen. you already broke her heart. and now you’re doin’ it again?!”

carmen looks away, but richie doesn’t let up.

“you serious right now? after everything she’s done for you? you’re the problem? oh wow, man, what a revelation.”

“i am the problem, richie. that’s what i’m saying!” carmen’s voice rises a little, frustrated. 

“then fix it!” richie shouts. “don’t throw her away just ‘cause you’re all fucked up inside.”

richie was pissed, and not in the loud, joking way he usually was. no, this was different. this was a disappointment he felt deeply. he looked at carmy like he couldn’t believe he was watching him do this all over again, backing out the moment something good got too real.

he started pacing again, running his mouth about claire, about how she didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. “she’s claire bear, man,” he muttered under his breath, like that should mean something holy. and it kinda did, to richie. she’d been around since carmy was a little kid. familiar, kind, safe.

but carmen just sat there, bent over at the edge of the table, elbows digging into his thighs, hands locked at the back of his neck. guilt was burning through his stomach like acid. and not just for claire. for richie, too. for not being able to live up to the version of himself everyone kept hoping he’d finally become after getting with claire.

he didn’t fight richie on it, didn’t throw words back, because he knew richie was only half wrong.

the older man, never one to back down when carmy got quiet, leaned in with a little bite in his voice.

“you know i even told her once, right? about this?” he said, almost casual, throwing your name in there. “funny thing is claire wasn’t even in the picture yet and i already knew you were gonna pull this kind of shit.”

carmen froze. his lips thinned into a hard line and something dark settled behind his eyes.

he looked at richie, really looked at him, like he was trying to figure out if he was serious or just pushing buttons like he always did. but richie held firm.

a bitter wave of heat rose in his chest.

“did you–” carmy’s voice cracked, low and strained. “did you fucking say something to her?”

his words came sharp, like they’d been caught in his throat too long. 

“richie, what the fuck did you say to her?”

richie visibly flinched. his mouth opened and closed again. then he let out a laugh, humorless, almost stunned.

“you gotta be kidding.”

something in carmy’s face had changed, the shift in his voice when your name came up stopped him cold. he stared at him for a long second, piecing it together.

and it hit him like a ton of bricks.

“you motherfucker,” richie’s voice grew louder, half disbelief, half something else. anger, probably. or disappointment.

“you were into her and you didn’t say shit?” he pointed at carmy like he was trying to trace the outline of this massive mistake. “you let her walk outta here when you–”

he stopped himself. dragged a hand down his face, pacing, fuming.

“you know what? don’t even answer that,” he snapped, his anger visibly flaring again. “wanna know what i told her, jagoff? i didn’t tell her anything that she couldn’t tell by sharing space with you, you little fuckin' narcissist bitch.”

carmy finally looked up at him, teeth gritted, throat working like he was swallowing glass. richie’s eyes were hard now. protective and furious.

“she’s not just some second act of claire, cousin. she didn’t come around to fix you, that's not what she’s about!”

it came after a beat of silence, after richie had already seen through every layer of bullshit and nailed him to the wall.

“i know–i know that,” carmy finally said, voice low, almost strangled.

it sounded awful, even to his own ears. pathetic, but it was the truth.

and even though richie looked at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, like carmen had just handed him the messiest, most out-of-pocket confession, he felt something shift in his chest. relief, even if just a little.

finally someone else knew. someone understood the depth of what he was carrying. how much it wrecked him. how deep it went.

no more burying it behind routine or the bear or claire.

and now richie knew.

god, now richie knew.

so much for doing things differently.

he hadn’t really talked to richie much after that. things still felt off and he didn’t have the energy to untangle it just yet. instead, he tried focusing on getting back on the right foot with syd.

she’d asked for help with a new dish she was developing for the menu: something deeply personal, something that reflected the people she held closest to her heart. her family and her friends.

she told him she was stuck, unsure about the final flavor profile, and though he didn’t want to meddle too much (this was her creation, not his), she kept nudging him for input. said she trusted his instincts.

so he thought about you of peaches.

he said it lightly, almost offhand, but it stuck.

he didn’t know if syd would connect the dots, maybe she wouldn’t even ask. but if she did, if she ever wanted to know why, he’d say something about the brightness of the flavor, the way it lingered, felt right.

peaches were your favorite. 

he can’t help being taken back to that night again, when it was just you two alone, the restaurant emptied out, you sitting on that bench looking up at him with those beautiful eyes that haunt him still.

he’d been completely transfixed by you, by everything you were. by all the things you made him feel without even trying. your beauty, somehow untouched by the long day behind you, still shining through in the artificial light.

and when you reached for him, your fingers brushing his with a touch so gentle it felt deliberate, he swore he died right there. your touch… delicate, intentional, reverent, hit him harder than anything else had in years.

your hands were so soft, so careful, like you were learning him by touch alone, tracing every part of him without rushing. he remembers how it made his skin come alive, how each stroke of your digits lit him up. how much he wanted more. 

he wanted to pull you in, let you keep exploring all the parts of him no one else ever got to touch. he wanted to kiss you, slow and deep, to finally know if your lips tasted like peaches, just like he imagined.

carmen wanted to give himself to you completely in that moment. mind, body and whatever was left of his soul. and he’s never really stopped wanting that since.

that’s why he did it, why he reached out and cupped your face, unable to stop himself. it wasn’t instinct or ease. it was pure need. there were too many feelings rushing through him, building up after everything you had shared, everything left unsaid.

he wanted you. not just in that moment, but for longer than he could admit to anyone, maybe even to himself. and still, even now, after all the time that’s passed and after everything that’s changed, he hasn’t stopped wanting you.

he hasn’t stopped thinking about that night or stopped regretting the way he pulled back, how he let the moment slip through his fingers because he was too afraid of ruining it, of being too much and scare you off.

but now, looking back, all he can think about is how real it was. too real to pretend otherwise. undeniable. and how foolish he was to walk away from something so honest, so rare.

he wonders if you recall that night as often as he still does.

it’s a thought that’s lingered for what feels like forever now, something quiet and constant at the back of his mind. 

but tonight, it’s louder than ever. 

especially after hearing the buzz of surprise and excitement ripple through the kitchen when richie, halfway through reading the night’s guest list, said your name. 

carm tried to play it cool, to keep scrubbing down his station like his lungs weren’t suddenly constricting.

tonight was a new friends and family night. syd’s idea. a soft reset, she called it. a chance to breathe a little, reconnect with the people who mattered and quietly debut a few changes to the menu.

he could feel richie’s eyes on him all day: watchful, heavy, like he was waiting for something to go wrong. richie wasn’t subtle when it came to the people he cared about and carmy knew that look: apprehension. concern. maybe even a little warning.

and carmy got it. richie had watched him fall short more times than he could count, he’d seen carmy spiral, shut down, push people away, so of course he’d be on edge. especially tonight. especially with you.

pepto bismol had become his closest companion through the day, sipped like water in between prep and the minutes before doors, just to keep himself upright.

as the the guests began to arrive, he stationed himself near the window overlooking the dining area. just waiting.

eyes scanning every new arrival.

heart pounding harder with each one.

waiting for the moment you’d walk through the door.

he’d spent the whole day bracing for this, imagining it over and over, but when you finally appeared, all that careful anticipation crumbled in an instant.

because nothing, nothing, could’ve prepared him for the reality of you.

a familiar, dizzying lurch hit him in the gut.

how could you still look like that? like everything he’d been missing without even fully realizing it. like a punch straight to the ribs and a lifeline all at once. like something too good to be real.

you looked beautiful. god, you looked so beautiful.

and it wasn’t just the way you were so exquisitely dressed for the occasion or how your hair caught the light. it was the way you looked happy to be there, genuinely. like no time had passed. it knocked the breath right out of him.

the smile on your face when you greeted sugar and pete made his own mouth twitch up, he caught himself mirroring it, dumbly, before he could stop it. then came richie, arms out, wrapping you into a hug, whispering something in your ear. he guided you toward your seat, and carmy quietly sent a thank you into the universe when he realized your seat was directly in his line of sight.

you sat facing the kitchen.

richie turned around just before disappearing back to the floor, and their eyes met. that usual don’t fuck this up look was still there but now something else flickered underneath. something softer. protective. understanding. a silent: i see you.

and carmy, even in his nerves and with his stomach a knot of regret and adrenaline, gave him a small nod. a quiet thanks.

you being here, sitting where you’re seating tonight, was richie’s move.

he told himself to stay focused on service, especially tonight. he owed that to sydney. she had put her trust in him, asked him to show up and get it right. and he was trying, really trying, to keep his head down and stay sharp. but the longer the night went on, the harder it got.

you still hadn’t looked at him. not once. and it was slowly unraveling him.

you knew he’d be here, right? 

you knew this place. you knew the setup, knew exactly where he’d be standing. was it on purpose? he couldn’t tell, but watching you laugh so easily, catching up with syd’s dad and chester, it made him feel disoriented, like he was watching a version of you he didn’t have access to anymore.

every second that passed without your eyes meeting his made his chest feel tighter, heavier. he was falling apart in real time, trying to keep it together behind the pass.

and then came the dish.

fak had announced it a little too loudly, of course, but it landed. 

“new to the menu,” he said, “from chef sydney and chef carmy.”

carmen stood there, watching you the whole time, heart hammering, barely breathing.

you leaned in, tilted your head, examined the plate like it was something that really mattered, eyes soft and focused. you took in the smell first, then a bite.

and then, like gravity itself shifted in the room, you looked up.

right at him.

peaches.

and he knew, in that split second, you remembered too.

do you think i have forgotten about you?

the tension of all the conversations that veered too close to something real. the breaks you shared, shoulder to shoulder, breathing in the quiet between the chaos. you remembered the glances, the ones that lasted a second too long, the ones that said more than either of you ever dared to say aloud. you remembered that night when it was just the two of you.

you remembered what it felt like.

he could see it on your face. the recognition, the weight of it all. the way you held his gaze, steady and certain, made something in him shift. and he took it as a sign.

no more hiding behind glances, no more waiting for the right moment that never came. carmen was done being the guy who only looked when you weren’t looking, the one who kept everything to himself out of fear.

because the truth was, he felt so much for you. still. all of it. untouched by time.

still in love.

and now he was ready to say it, to show you, to fight for you.

he finally understood everything had always been about you.

and as service wound down and the restaurant quieted, all he could think about was finding you before the night ended–

to tell you that.

 ₊˚⊹♡

thank you for reading. please reblog and comment. or both ☻

[sinsxo]

off the pitch, on a date. —blue lock

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro.

synopsis. you were no longer just a fan in the stands. this time, you were out under city lights, sharing dinners and unexpected warmth with the football stars you were just cheering for. the match may be over, but something else was just beginning — off the pitch, on a date.

cw. drabble, fluff, reader is not quite ‘just a fan’ anymore, lighthearted fic.

wc. 0.8k words, not proofread.

from the stands to the dms.

isagi yoichi ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

your dinner date with isagi was nothing short of special. he’d picked you up, planned everything, and now that you were both at the restaurant, he made sure you were comfortable. no awkward silences, no forced smiles — just warmth, laughter, and conversation that flowed naturally.

at some point, the conversation circled back to how you even ended up here — across from each other in a cosy booth, plates between you, sharing a moment neither of you had expected.

“when you first grabbed my hand,” he said, a small laugh escaping, “i got a bit scared.”

“seriously?” you blinked.

“yeah. i didn’t know what was going on. then i saw you panicking, and when you walked off smiling like that... i don’t know, it just stuck with me.”

you grinned sheepishly. “i ran away because i was so embarrassed. i probably looked like a total idiot.”

“no,” he said quickly. “i thought you were cute.”

your eyes widened. “wait—”

“i mean—!” he fumbled, flustered. “it’s not every day someone this beautiful holds onto your hand.”

a pause.

“…well, thank you,” you mumbled, just as shy.

“but more than that,” he said, softer now, “i want to get to know you more. so… may i?”

you didn’t need to think twice. the answer was already there, written all over your smile.

itoshi rin ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

the first five minutes were quiet. not awkward — just typical itoshi rin.

he passed you the menu without looking up. you thanked him. he nodded.

then, out of nowhere, “you look nice,” he said, flatly, no warning.

“you too,” you replied, caught off guard.

“what do you want to eat?”

“this one.”

he ordered it for you without hesitation.

the conversation eventually found its rhythm. you talked about everything: the finals, his favorite protein bars, how you managed to buy them even after they sold out thanks to that one interview, and of course — your first chaotic interaction.

“still lame that you’re a fan of isagi’s,” he muttered.

“hey, i waved your banner the last two matches. i’m a certified traitor now because of you.”

he rolled his eyes. “so you’re still thinking about isagi?”

you snorted. “you’re never letting that go, huh?”

“never,” he said. then, after a short pause, “but you’re here. with me. so i must’ve done something right.”

you met his gaze, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “so i’m a fan of itoshi rin now?”

“should be.”

you laughed, and for a second, everything slowed down. he smiled too — a rare, genuine one.

itoshi sae ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

barely five minutes in and you were already bickering — or flirting — depends on whoever is watching.

“i must be special to itoshi sae if he asked me out on a date,” you teased.

“i said it wasn’t a date.” he said flatly.

“yet here you are — pulling out my chair, picking me up, wearing cologne. you even booked a reservation.”

he paused. “…coincidence.”

you laughed. and you swear for a split second, his gaze softened.

“so? why’d you even sign my banner? i was cheering for the losing team the other day.”

“you were being demanding, asking me to pick up a loser’s banner. i figured i’d give you the honour of having my signature.”

“you ruined my banner.”

“it all worked out, didn’t it? now you’ve got a signed jersey and you’re cheering for the winning team. it’s a win-win.”

“you’re unbelievably full of yourself.”

he didn’t deny it.

“so can i expect more jerseys in future?”

“depends on how this night goes.”

“so it is a date.”

he didn’t respond. but when the food arrived, he placed your dish in front of you without being asked to. and later, when your heels started to hurt, he let you wear his shoes and walked barefoot the rest of the way.

maybe he didn’t have to say anything after all.

nagi seishiro ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

you and nagi had wandered all over the city, poking your heads into every possible sweet shop. most were closed. some were swept clean and sold out. but neither of you really minded.

the both of you ended up on a park bench, each with a scoop of gelato in hand. the city buzzed quietly around you while you shared bites and traded favorite flavours.

“this reminds me of our first interaction,” you said suddenly.

“when you dropped your phone?” he asked.

“yeah,” you laughed. “and you picked it up for me.”

“then you gave me candy.”

“yep.”

“and you waved at me like you were hailing a cab.”

you gasped. “you remember that?”

“kind of hard to forget,” he mumbled, licking his gelato. “you were weird.”

you nudged him, pretending to be offended. “you liked the candy though.”

he nodded. “yeah. you were nice.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the rare sincerity in his voice.

then he added, “i wanted to talk to you more, y’know.”

“…you did?”

“yeah,” he said simply, finishing off the last of his cone. “so i planned this.”

you smiled. “so what now?”

he stretched, standing up and offering you a hand.

“now,” he said, “we go eat something that isn’t candy.”

and just like that, your candy-hunting adventure became your first dinner together.

a/n: it might end soon i fear, maybe i might do a few more parts

taglist. tagging everyone who wanted a part 5, thanks for your support! @stal1n33 @itzmexue @tsumu-senpai @rainychi2 @bestboileeknow @angelrins @ocean-mochi @ysvanielle @wyk2jt0 @asphodeloss @pinkytoxichearts @cruziival72 @motheroftongue

© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.

all images, aside from the dividers, do not belong to me. credit belongs to their original creators on pinterest & xhs.

[orellazalonia]

Stars, Stripes, and Secret Birthdays

Summary: Steve Rogers once claimed July 4th was his birthday in a moment of patriotic panic and now, decades later, he's trapped in an annual circus of fireworks and singing cakes while Bucky Barnes, who knows his real birthday, watches it all unfold alongside you with ruthless amusement. (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Word Count: 1.1k+

A/N: Happy 4th of July, everyone! This was inspired by this post from @couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name. I saw it a while back and thought it’d be perfect for a short themed fic today! Happy reading!!!

Main Masterlist

The Fourth of July at the Avengers Tower was somehow more over-the-top than you ever imagined, and you’d imagined a lot when you first joined the team.

There were drones in the shape of bald eagles circling the upper levels, tables decked out in red, white, and blue confetti, and a life-sized cake replica of Captain America’s shield slowly rotating on a platform like it was on some sort of sugary patriotic pedestal. Fireworks hadn’t even started yet, and you were already overwhelmed.

And that didn’t even touch the twenty-foot holographic banner flashing: “Happy Birthday, Captain America!”

“Wait… Steve’s birthday is today?” You asked, frowning as you tried to keep up. You looked over at Bucky, who stood beside you with a drink in hand and an expression that was somewhere between entertained and exasperated.

He didn’t answer at first. Just sipped slowly, like he was letting something delicious settle on his tongue.

“Supposedly,” He said at last, eyes twinkling.

You raised a brow. “Supposedly?”

He turned to look at you, lips quirking. “Let’s just say the truth’s a little snowier than the fireworks would suggest.”

Before you could push further and ask what that even means, Tony Stark’s voice blared from the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, heroes and freeloaders, give it up for the man, the myth, the living legend; our one and only, star-spangled Steve Rogers!”

The crowd erupted into cheers. Steve, dressed in a casual button-down and looking very much like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole, offered a stiff smile and a half-hearted wave from the side of the crowd.

You leaned toward Bucky again. “Okay, what is going on?”

Bucky chuckled, clearly enjoying your confusion. “He wasn’t actually born on the Fourth. That was just a panic response back during one of his tour interviews. Wanted to sound more patriotic, I guess and said July 4th like a reflex, and now he’s been trapped in that lie for about a hundred years.”

You blinked. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Bucky said, grinning. “His actual birthday’s in December. Always was. I used to sneak him cake when we were kids. But now? Now he’s got mugs, documentaries, and a Hallmark holiday outfits.”

You glanced at Steve, who was now cornered by Sam, Bruce, and a S.H.I.E.L.D. rep holding an enormous red-white-and-blue party hat. His jaw was tight. His eyes flicked toward Bucky like a silent plea.

Bucky just sipped again. “He lives in constant fear someone’s gonna dig up his birth certificate.”

You looked back at Steve, then at the holographic display of his “birthday,” and then back to Bucky. “And you just… let him suffer?”

“Every year,” Bucky said, grinning. “It’s my favorite holiday.”

You couldn’t help it. You burst out laughing, and Bucky’s smirk deepened as he watched Steve try to gently wrestle a sparkler out of Tony’s hand before someone lost an eyebrow.

You nudged Bucky lightly with your elbow. “You’re a menace.”

“Don’t act like you’re not gonna enjoy watching this unfold.” He leaned in, dropping his voice low just for you. “Wait ‘til the cake comes out. It sings.”

You glanced over at the monstrosity of frosting and fondant slowly rotating under a spotlight. And suddenly, you understood why Steve looked like he might bolt.

Oh, you were definitely staying for the cake.

When it was time to cut the cake, you realized it did, in fact, sing.

It started as a low hum of patriotic instrumentals swelling from hidden speakers as the lights dimmed in dramatic anticipation. Guests crowded around the massive dessert like it was about to perform an opera, and honestly, it might as well have. A minute later, the cake’s top layer mechanically opened like the roof of a convertible, revealing a tiny animatronic Steve Rogers figurine that popped up to salute.

Then it began singing “Born in the U.S.A.” Off-key. Loudly.

Steve flinched.

You were openly laughing now, wheezing into your drink as Bucky casually leaned on the back of a couch like a man watching karma do his work for him.

“I told Tony this was too much,” Steve muttered through clenched teeth to Sam, who was doubled over laughing beside him.

“Oh, come on, Cap,” Sam said between gasps, “You’re telling me this isn’t the birthday party of your dreams?”

Steve glanced over at Bucky again. You swore the temperature dropped five degrees from how hard Steve was glaring, but Bucky only raised his glass in a slow, infuriating toast.

“Does no one else find this weird?” You whispered to Bucky, grinning. “That literally everyone believes he was born on Independence Day and no one’s ever questioned it?”

“Oh, people have questioned it,” Bucky said. “But by the time someone pulls out a dusty archive or some old hospital record, they’re shut down by a wave of patriotism and Steve’s guilty little puppy face.”

You blinked. “So this is just… the life he chose?”

“He didn’t choose it,” Bucky said, feigning innocence. “He lied once, and now he’s stuck pretending his birthday smells like hot dogs and gunpowder.”

You raised a brow. “And you never let him forget it?”

“Would you?” Bucky asked.

Fair point.

Across the room, Steve was trying and failing to defuse Tony, who had just unveiled the night’s next surprise: a series of drones that would skywrite “BORN ON THE FOURTH TO FIGHT FOR THE FREE” in glittering red sparks across the skyline.

You watched Steve visibly flinch with each passing word in the sky, jaw locked so tight you could see the muscle twitching from across the room.

“I think he’s going to pop a blood vessel,” You whispered.

Bucky smirked, completely unbothered. “Every year he asks Tony to tone it down. And every year Tony says he will. He never does.”

“Is this why you like the Fourth of July so much?” You teased, nudging him.

He shrugged like a man with no shame. “It used to be the worst day of the year for me. Now it’s one of my favorites.”

You gave him a sideways glance. “Because you get to watch your best friend be tormented by the consequences of a hundred-year-old lie?”

“Exactly,” Bucky said brightly.

And you couldn’t help it, you laughed again. But then Bucky leaned closer, his tone dropping low, soft just for you.

“I think next year, I’ll slip a December birthday card into his locker,” He murmured. “Maybe make it snow in the common room. Just to keep him on his toes.”

You tilted your head, amused. “And you say you’re not the dramatic one.”

Bucky looked over at Steve again, who was now trying to pry the animatronic figurine off the cake as it attempted to salute and tap dance.

With all the chaos swirling around him, Steve caught Bucky’s eye one more time, half rage, half helplessness.

Bucky just winked.

And you knew then, with full certainty: This would be your new favorite holiday too.

[codfxrn-blog]

SECOND PLACE; TODD STEVENS

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy it. I’m sorry if there’s anything wrong with the story—English is not my first language, so I apologize for that.

Todd Stevens x f reader (THE LINE)

The first time Todd noticed her, it wasn’t because he wanted to.

It was because she beat him.

Political Theory Exam I.

Todd Stevens — president of Kappa Nu Alpha, star speaker, the dean’s unofficial favorite — was used to being on top. Not because of charisma (though he had it), nor just because of ambition (though that too), but because he was the best. At least, he had been… until she showed up.

The paper came back with red ink in the corner. 95.

His… 93.

Two miserable points.

He looked up, frowning slightly, and then he saw her: across the classroom, sitting upright, eyes lowered, lips slightly curved as if allowing herself a private smile. As if she knew exactly what she had just done. As if she didn’t need to look around to feel the world quietly tilting toward her.

From that moment on, something shifted.She’d tried to start a conversation, a sort of academic truce, right after class.

“I read your essay on Rawls,” she said one afternoon while they were packing up. Her voice was soft but clear, like someone unafraid to say what they think, even if it won’t be well received. “I thought your point on distributive justice was brilliant. The way you linked the principles of equality to the veil of ignorance… it was sharp. Elegant.”

Todd barely looked at her, just over the edge of his folder. Exactly one second. No more.

There was no sarcasm in her voice. No mockery. Just a genuine observation, delivered naturally. As if it wasn’t strange that a student like her — the same one who had just outscored him on the most important exam of the semester — would speak to him with praise.

But to him, it did feel strange.

Too strange.

He closed his notebook a little too forcefully, as if the act of snapping the metal rings shut could silence the buzzing her presence caused in his head. His jaw tightened slightly.

“Thanks,” he said at last, with a brief, empty smile — too proper to be real. “I didn’t like yours.”

The words dropped like a stone in the empty hallway of the classroom. He didn’t even look at her when he said it. It was a clean strike. Precise. A surgical cut to politeness.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t frown. Didn’t look away. She just lowered her head slightly, and her lips — those lips that seemed to sketch thoughts before they reached her voice — curved. Just barely.Not even angry. Just… amused.

As if she knew exactly what had just happened.As if she had just confirmed what she suspected.

He couldn’t handle her. And that’s when something shifted.

Todd wasn’t someone who handled defeat gracefully. He never had been. He was used to being pursued, not the pursuer. Admired, not outdone. But there she was: with her calm stride, her scalpel gaze, her steady voice, and her damn perfect essays.

From that moment, she wasn’t just another brilliant student.

He declared her competition. And not just any competition.

The most dangerous kind.

Now, weeks later, they were in the same space. A party at Kappa Nu Alpha. Noise, low lights, the smell of beer, sweat, and something else. Guys yelling in the backyard, laughter vibrating through the walls, music blasting from the speakers.She didn’t want to be there.It showed. She’d been dragged by a couple of friends, holding a drink in one hand and her lips pursed like she was smelling something rotten. Her eyes scanned the place with near-poetic disapproval. She didn’t need to say a word: her discomfort was a statement in itself.

And Todd… watched her from the central couch, beer in hand, legs apart, with the confidence of someone who owns the room. Flanked by Tom and Getty, laughing freely, competing to see who could get drunk first. But his attention wasn’t with them. It was with her.

“Look at her,” Tom murmured, following his gaze. “She looks more out of place than a nun in a strip club.”

“What’s she doing here if she hates all this?” Connor asked, drinking. “Isn’t she supposed to be above good and evil?”

Todd didn’t respond right away. He was playing with the rim of his plastic cup, watching her drift away from the girls who brought her and take refuge near the stairs. She wasn’t shy. Just out of place.

And that gave Todd an advantage he never had in the classroom.

“I don’t know,” he said at last, in a low voice. “But I want to find out.”

And he stood up.

Robert, who was closer to the kitchen, saw him walking and followed without much thought.

“Where you going, Stevens?”

“To talk to someone,” he replied without stopping.

“To the witch who’s stealing your GPA?”

Todd smiled humorlessly. Didn’t turn back.He found her leaning against the hallway railing, alone, looking at the chaos with an almost scientific expression, as if she were dissecting human behavior from the outside. Hair over one shoulder. Arms crossed. Slight frown.

“Enjoying the place?” Todd asked as he approached, neutral tone, as if they hadn’t been ignoring each other for weeks.

She glanced at him. Looked down at her cup.

“Too lovely,” she murmured, with that sarcasm she wielded like a knife. “Not surprised there’s people fucking behind that wall.”

Robert laughed behind Todd.

“Wow, Stevens. You picked the most charming one in the room.”

Todd laughed too, heavy, not at the joke, but at how she didn’t flinch, how she seemed to wear her disdain like armor.

“Just a bit of fun,” Todd tried, shrugging.

“Stupid fun,” she muttered.

But he heard her. Of course he did.An awkward silence stretched between the three of them. Robert watched her with a raised eyebrow, unsure whether to admire her or bite her. Todd clenched his jaw slightly but said nothing.

She didn’t wait for a response. She just turned and walked back to her friends.

“Damn, Todd,” Robert teased, still smiling. “She shut you down like you were nobody.”

Todd rolled his eyes. Said nothing. Walked away, but in his chest, a warm rage was crawling up his throat.He went back to the kitchen. Drank. Another cup. He didn’t need it, but it gave him an excuse to ignore the sting.

A bit later, a girl whose name he didn’t remember sat on his lap. Threw an arm around his shoulders and kissed him with clumsy desire, like she was staking a claim that wasn’t hers.

And he let her.

Not out of desire. Not out of interest. But because he deserved to be noticed. Because for some fucked-up reason, he needed to reclaim the power she stole from him just by existing.

But when he looked up and saw her across the room, her eyes locked on him with an unreadable expression…Todd felt pride.

Pride that he made her look.Pride that he was in a place where she didn’t belong.

Pride… and something darker, more confusing, that he still couldn’t name.

The music volume dropped slightly as Tom stood on a chair and raised his hand like the host of an official tournament:

“Next round of Beer Pong! Teams of two!” he shouted, making the red cups on the table tremble with the echo.

The crowd roared. Some shoved each other laughing, others had already lost coordination from the booze, and the more competitive ones sharpened their eyes like it was a national championship.

Todd stood with his arms crossed, leaning against a pillar, beer in hand. Watching everything with that half-smile of someone who’s in no rush but sees all. Until he saw her.

She had stepped back out onto the patio, her friends forming a shield around her, but he knew her attention wasn’t on them. Her eyes were locked on the beer pong table, like she was calculating angles before touching a ball.

Getty noticed.

“You not joining?” he asked, elbowing him.Todd shrugged.

“Depends who’s playing.”

Then, as if the universe were mocking him, she stepped forward.

“Looking for a partner?” she asked Robert, with an innocent smile that fooled no one.

“You? Playing?” Robert laughed, glancing at Todd with a raised eyebrow.

“Scared to lose to me?” she fired back, faux sweet.Robert, unsure whether to laugh or surrender, pointed at her.

“Alright, you win. But I need backup…” he turned to Todd. “What do you say, Stevens? Shall we make the dream team?”

Todd took a sip, then looked at her. Their eyes met for a second. It wasn’t just a look. It was a silent provocation.

“I’m in,” he said.

She crossed her arms.

“No mercy when we win.”

Todd walked toward the table, setting his cup aside.

“And I don’t want excuses when you lose,” he shot back.

The cups were lined up. The balls bounced a couple of times across the table. The rules were simple: every time someone scored, the other team drank. Miss twice in a row, and you drank. And if you wanted to knock out a key cup… you could risk a “penalty shot”: kiss or dare.

The crowd circled the table like they expected blood.

She threw first.

Scored.

Robert cursed under his breath and drank. Todd just nodded with a crooked smile.

“Warming up?” he asked, calmly taking the ball.

“Call it what you want,” she smiled.

Todd leaned in. Perfect angle, loose wrist, trained aim. The ball landed in the center of the cup.

“Tie,” he murmured.

From there, it was all crossfire.

Each score was a statement. Each miss, a provocation. She challenged him with her gaze. Todd answered with double-meaning smiles. Their friends narrated like it was a soccer match:

“Look at that chemistry!” Tom shouted from the couch.

“Chemistry 101 or unresolved sexual tension?” joked Getty, making everyone laugh.

In a crucial round, she missed twice. Todd raised an eyebrow, stepping a bit closer.

“Nervous?”

“I’m being fair. Giving you an edge,” she replied, gently pushing his shoulder.

He caught the ball, spinning it between his fingers.

“If I make this… I want a prize,” he said, eyes locked on hers.

“A shot?” she asked.

“A kiss.”

Silence.

The laughter and shouts died down like magic. She raised her eyebrows but didn’t move.

“You’re going to miss,” she murmured.

Todd smiled. And scored.

Clean shot.

She didn’t flinch. She leaned in slowly, hands on the table between them. Todd watched her like all the air in the patio had frozen.

“I don’t kiss for losing,” she whispered.

“But I won,” he whispered back.

And just like that, she leaned in and kissed him.

It was quick. Just a brush. But enough for everyone around them to scream like a goal had been scored in the World Cup final.

She returned to her place without a word, though her cheeks were flushed. Todd smiled, satisfied, like he’d just won a medal.

The table was still full of cups, though the game between Todd and her was already over. They had won, yes, but she didn’t leave. She kept laughing with Robert, with Getty. Even with the girls from some sorority whose name she’d forgotten when they invited her to join — now they looked at her with a strange kind of respect. Todd, meanwhile, leaned against a column, drinking slowly, eyes fixed on her like a lighthouse.

He watched her with a mix of pride and something he didn’t dare name.It wasn’t just about competing with her anymore.It was the way she laughed fearlessly. How she didn’t try to please anyone. The way she raised an eyebrow when someone said something stupid. She was annoying, yes. Too smart, too direct, too much.

And yet… he couldn’t stop watching her.

She leaned forward, laughing at something Getty said, and then, without much thought, bent to grab one of the balls that had rolled to the edge of the table.It took seconds.

Some idiot — a sophomore, a mediocre prospect with more muscle than brains — looked at her.

“Mmm… with a view like that, losing doesn’t seem so bad.”

And right after, he slapped her ass, as if his comment gave him the right.

She straightened immediately. Turned around, face twisted between disbelief and rage.

But Todd was already moving.

He dropped his cup without looking. Walked with firm steps, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists. His face a mask. Tom tried calling his name, but it was useless. When he reached the guy, he shoved him hard, making him stumble back.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you!?” Todd snapped, voice low and laced with anger.

“It was a joke, man, relax,” the other guy laughed, unaware of how close he was to disaster.

“You think it’s funny to touch someone without permission?” Todd growled, stepping closer.

The circle closed in. Everyone was watching. No one dared step in.

“Todd,” she said, trying to touch his arm, but he was as tense as a pulled wire.

“Apologize!” he demanded, not taking his eyes off the idiot.

“It’s fine,” she said more firmly this time. “I’m fine.”

Todd took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. He was at the edge. He knew it. Everyone did.

Then he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of there.

He gently led her through the hallway, weaving past bodies and curious eyes. They climbed the stairs in silence.

The frat house was a mess of laughter, music, half-open doors. But upstairs, it was different. Quieter. Darker.

She didn’t resist.

When they entered one of the empty rooms — his — Todd closed the door with a solid thud.

He turned to her, chest still rising and falling hard.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her voice softer now.

“Yes, I did,” he replied, eyes locked on hers. “He touched you. He laughed. What was I supposed to do?”

She looked at him, silent. Their breathing was the only sound. Downstairs, the music played on, distant, irrelevant.

“Thank you,” she whispered at last.

Todd took a step closer. Then another. Until only inches separated them.

“I don’t care if we’re not friends. If you compete with me. If you make me come in second every damn semester. But if anyone ever does something like that again…”

He stopped. Swallowed hard.

She looked up at him. Her expression wasn’t defiant. Nor annoyed. It was different. Softer. More honest.

“And what will you do?” she whispered.

Todd leaned in. Very, very slowly. His nose brushed hers.

“You won’t see it,” he said. “Because I won’t let it happen.”

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t a sweet kiss. It was a kiss full of rage, tension, of everything left unsaid. She responded with equal intensity, grabbing his shirt, pushing him against the door. Todd wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her slightly, spinning her to press her against the wall. His lips trailed down her jaw, her neck, her collarbones.She gasped when his teeth grazed the base of her neck. Their bodies sought each other like they’d been avoiding this for years.

“This is a bad idea,” she murmured, forehead pressed to his.

“The worst,” Todd whispered, kissing her again.His hands slid under her shirt. She arched her back, a broken sigh escaping when his fingers touched bare skin. Their hips aligned, and the tension thickened, more urgent.

But then she stopped.

Not with a push. Not with harsh words.

Just a slight gesture: her fingers on his chest, barely there, but firm enough to say stop.

Her body was still pressed to his, her lips parted, her breath shaky. But her eyes closed and her throat tightened before she spoke.

“Todd… no,” she said, the effort clear in her voice.He went still. Motionless.

His lips still rested on her neck, so close his breath burned her skin.

The heat of the moment remained, heavy like a wet coat. But something had changed between them.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes.

She nodded, but did it with her eyes closed, as if she couldn’t face him yet.

The way she breathed said it all. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t disgust.It was something deeper. More complex.

“Just…” she tried to explain, voice so low Todd had to lean in to hear her, “…I don’t want it to be now.”

The words hit harder than a punch.

Todd rested his forehead on her shoulder. Closed his eyes. Swallowed.

His heart was still racing, but not from desire this time.

From guilt. From understanding. From everything he hadn’t gotten before now.

“Okay,” he said at last, with a sincerity he didn’t know he had in him.

Then she kissed him one last time.

Not to comfort.

Not to draw a line.

She kissed him like she truly saw him. Like she knew, in that moment, he was more fragile than he let on.

Their arms wrapped around each other in silence.

The music from the party still echoed downstairs. Voices, laughter, footsteps.

But in that room, it was just them. And that silence.

Thick. Painful.

Todd didn’t say another word. Didn’t try again.

He just held her, eyes closed, his forehead still resting on her collarbone.

For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like he was losing something.When they came downstairs together minutes later — her cheeks still flushed, Todd’s shirt wrinkled — eyes fell on them like knives. Some people went quiet.

She just smiled before walking away to find her friends.

Others smirked, knowing exactly what they were thinking.

Getty was the first to break the silence.

“Well, well... so, is it a declared tie, or did you go settle it in private?” he said, raising his half-finished beer with a crooked grin.

Robert whistled in approval, as if that said enough.

“You take her upstairs to console yourself after losing the last round?” joked Tom, always the reckless one.

Todd didn’t reply.

Didn’t bother justifying anything.

Didn’t crack a joke to ease the moment either.He just smiled — that smile that revealed more than it should.

Everyone knew: she wasn’t Todd’s limit.

She was a challenge, and he was determined to win her.

[nightplvmes]

birthday girl (zayne ver)

zayne one shot (love and deepspace) parties weren't your favorite thing. that's why, when Zayne told you you both could go, you never imagined that meant making what you wanted most for that day come true

⋆｡° | pairing : zayne x fem!reader • second person pov ⋆｡° | word count : 2.4k (2490) ⋆｡° | to see other versions of this special with other LI, see the tag here ⋆｡° | autor note : as you all can see, this is a special for the reader's birthday. you can save this and read it closer to your birthday. my plan is to do one shots of all the LIs, but someone requested this version first :) likes and reblogs are appreciated!! :) ★ masterlist here

Zayne knew you too well to know you were uncomfortable. You liked your birthday; it was a special day, after all, but you'd told him once before that you were an adult. You liked celebrating it privately, with a few special people, not with a big party and too much noise. Just like those moments.

One of your best friends had thrown you a surprise party, and from the second everyone jumped, shouting "surprise" Zayne knew you didn't want to be there because of the expression on your face. It was disappointment, then it turned into a fake smile. Something that had lasted all night.

"I have to do something. I'll be right back." Zayne pressed his lips against your forehead. You looked at him for a few seconds, and he saw that flash across your face: you didn't want to be alone because that meant people were going to start approaching you to talk, and you definitely didn't want that. But you didn't want to seem ungrateful either. You really appreciated the party, even if you didn't like being in crowds.

You nodded as you let go of Zayne's arms. He nodded before walking away from you, setting his glass aside in the process. You sighed, looking away at the other people there. One of your friends smiled at you and waved her hand in the distance, causing you to smile back in an attempt to be friendly. She signaled for you to come closer, so you put the glass you were holding aside and before starting to walk toward her, you turned to see where Zayne had gone.

Your smile faded when you noticed him approaching one of your friends. Addie, the one who had organized the party for you. You didn't want to be the type of person who got jealous over that kind of thing, but you couldn't help but feel that pressure in your chest when he leaned in to whisper something to her and a huge smile spread across Addie's face. You frowned, wondering what they were talking about and forced yourself to remember that Zayne wasn't like the others.

There was no way that was what you were really thinking.

You slumped onto the couch, feeling completely mentally exhausted. Socializing wasn't your favorite thing, but you had fun. You'd seen friends you hadn't seen in months, and even your family members were there. When it was one of your friends who was organizing the surprise party, they didn't always bother inviting family members.

Zayne took the seat next to you shortly after. You still felt that pressure in your chest, remembering what had happened about half an hour ago. Seeing him with that peaceful expression made you nervous. They'd gone to another room and after that, you hadn't seen anything else. You didn't know what they were doing and you didn't really want to think about it too much.

"Say goodbye to Addison." Your brow furrowed. Zayne's words had come out of his mouth without much thought, but he seemed completely serious, which made you feel even more confused.

"Why?"

"We're leaving now." You opened your mouth, confused. You wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come out. There were too many questions in your mind and when he noticed, Zayne answered quickly. "I have a surprise for you, and that means we have to leave now."

"But the party…" He interrupted you.

"I already talked to Addison about that."

It took you more than a couple of seconds to realize what was happening. You stood still until your brain processed what he'd said, and you finally nodded, deciding you'd have him answer all your questions later. It didn't take you too long to do what he'd asked. You said goodbye to Addie, thanking her for the party, and also said goodbye to some people you met along the way. If you said goodbye to everyone at the party, you'd never finish.

You met up with Zayne again outside the house a few minutes later. You could still hear the music playing inside the house. Maybe they weren't having the biggest party of the century, but they were definitely having a little party you'd wanted to get out of from the moment you arrived.

"So that's why you talked to Addie?" you asked as you approached him. It was cold, but not cold enough to make you shiver.

You felt the weight lift from your chest when Zayne nodded, one of his arms wrapping around your hip to pull you closer. You couldn't help but feel guilty for even thinking something more was going on, even though you knew Zayne better than you'd ever known anyone.

"Yeah, she got really excited about the surprise. You have some very… enthusiastic friends." You couldn't help but laugh at Zayne's expression; you'd seen it on his face more than once. Your friends were way too extroverted compared to him, maybe too much because they often forgot that people liked personal space.

"So… where are we going?"

Zayne stopped right in front of the car. You raised an eyebrow, realizing they had to be going somewhere else if he'd headed to his car. You looked back at Zayne, who had a small smile on his face. You loved seeing him smile, but that told you everything you needed to know: it wasn't just going home; he had something else on his mind.

"Zaynieeee," you sighed, slumping back into the seat. "Aren't you going to tell me? Where are you going?" You'd spent the last few minutes trying to figure out where you two were going. You'd gotten in the car, and it didn't take long for Zayne to take an unfamiliar road, but it took you too long to figure out that you were going out of the city.

You realized you weren't going to get any more information out of him when he shook his head again and turned to look at you, but he quickly returned his gaze to the road. "Not yet, put on that sweater and change your shoes." Zayne gestured with his chin to the sweater he'd left on the dashboard and the shoes next to your feet, which were much more comfortable than the horrible heels you were currently wearing.

"A hint?" you asked as you picked up the sweater to start putting it on over your dress. It was Zayne's navy blue sweater. You loved it because it was too big for you and smelled like him. You couldn't help but realize he'd indirectly done it because he loved seeing you in his clothes, and you'd once mentioned how much you loved wearing his clothes.

"Well… I brought a change of clothes for tonight and another one for coming home tomorrow. So we're sleeping there." Zayne shifted his gaze back to you. One of his hands slid up your leg. You felt his cold fingers against your skin before he left a gentle squeeze and returned his gaze to the road.

You were going to sleep there. A quick thought crossed your mind about something you'd mentioned once before, but you forced yourself not to get your hopes up, even though excitement had begun to swell in your chest.

He remembered. Zayne remembered, and you didn't know why you were surprised, given that literally all those years of your relationship had only proven he was the type of man who memorized details about you. And yet, you felt like crying when you looked at the cabin in front of you.

At first, you'd been worried when you noticed Zayne had taken a different route, closer to the mountains, and all you could think was that the cold was getting worse at night and you were probably going to freeze to death. That thought was erased when he told you he'd brought something warm for you and turned on the heat. He also mentioned that the place they were going had heat because he didn't want to make his girlfriend freeze to death.

A few months ago, you'd talked about how always wanted to spend the night in a cabin and have breakfast there the next day. You'd started planning a little trip with Zayne for your birthday, but due to problems with his work, and problems with your own, they'd had to cancel the trip. That had made you sad for weeks. Zayne promised you could do something together afterward, but at that point, you didn't even have the energy to do anything else on your birthday.

But then Addie's surprise party came along, and you felt bad for wanting to leave.

But now you were there, in a beautiful cabin that had a little snow piled up on the sides, which made you think that tomorrow morning you were going to force Zayne to have an impromptu snowball fight before you left.

"Why… when…" you forced yourself to take a breath and gather your thoughts. Your heart was beating so hard you could hear it thundering in your ears, and you felt something inside you stir every time you wanted to speak. "When did you do this?" You turned to look at him. Zayne was carrying a duffel bag in one of his hands, which he set aside to wrap his arms around you.

You felt him pull you closer and you allowed yourself to melt into his grasp. "A week ago. I had booked another cabin closer, but you'd mentioned you liked the cold, and that was the point of it all." His fingers brushed your cheek. For some reason, Zayne's hands were rarely warm, and yet it was something you loved. You could lean into his touch all day long. "This one became available a few days ago. They called me because I'd already tried to book it."

You felt your heart melt. You couldn't believe he'd taken the time to do all that, and you hadn't even noticed. Not to mention he'd talked Addie into letting you out of the surprise party: Addie, the most stubborn person you'd ever met.

"You didn't have to do that," you murmured, kissing his cheek.

He shook his head, and you felt him take a step back, but before you could complain about the lack of his warmth, he quickly took your hand. "Come on, there's more."

Zayne picked up the duffel bag again with his free hand and led you to the cabin entrance. It took him about two minutes to find the cabin keys in his pocket and open the front door. The moment Zayne pushed the door, the smell of pine and wood filled you. It reminded you a bit of Christmas, even though it was still several months away.

You walked slowly into the cabin, looking around. You felt like the roof was too far away and it was more than you expected for just one night. You even wondered if there was a way to stay there for a couple more days. The interior of the cabin was warm; for a second, you thought you'd have to sleep while you shivered from the cold. "It's beautiful," you murmured. You heard Zayne drop the duffel bag, and seconds later, his arms wrapped around you again.

You felt your heart pounding, still struggling to process what was happening and the fact that Zayne had prepared all of this for you, and not just that, you hadn't even noticed. It had genuinely been a surprise, and perhaps one of the best all year. "There's something else," he repeated, making you remember what he had said minutes before when you were still in front of the cabin.

You turned to look at him, and Zayne took one of your hands again, giving it a light tug to make you walk beside him. Your footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, your gaze traveling all over the place as you both walked. There was a small smile on your face, though it didn't compare to the excitement you felt inside. It was nighttime and part of your birthday had already passed, but you were going to end the day just the way you had imagined… even if it was just for a second, you could be in your bubble with Zayne.

When you reached the dining room your eyes widened for two reasons: - the cabin was a little bigger than you thought. - there was a box on the edge of the table.

You didn't need to be the smartest person in the class to know it was a cake, a birthday cake of course.

"That's it…" He nodded. He lifted the box, revealing a beautiful cake with light blue hues and snowflakes on top. You let out an embarrassed giggle. You liked those kinds of decorations because you liked the cold, and it reminded you of Zayne's evol. Had he remembered that too? If the answer was yes, it wasn't going to surprise you anyway.

Zayne pulled a lighter out of his pocket, and it took him a couple of seconds to light the three candles on the edge of the cake. He let go of your hand so he could take the dessert with both hands and bring it closer to your face. For a second, you thought you just had to blow out the candles, but as soon as Zayne began to sing "Happy Birthday" softly, you felt a mixture of emotions coursing through your veins. You had to press your lips together to keep from letting out a nervous chuckle, which was actually a mixture of all the happiness you were feeling because Dr. Zayne never sang. And you liked his voice; it was deep but soft.

It was several seconds later when he cleared his throat, visibly embarrassed that he had sung. "Now you have to make your birthday wish."

You narrowed your eyes, trying to think of something. You didn't usually ask for anything on your birthdays, or when you did, they were so vague because you didn't expect them to actually come true. But that night, something came to mind. Your heart pounded when the thought came to you, and you closed your eyes for a few seconds, remembering it in your mind. You opened your eyes, and the light gust of wind that escaped your lips blew out the candles. Zayne smiled at the excitement on your face and finally set the dessert aside.

"Happy birthday," he murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead. Your arms wrapped around him, hugging him tightly, and he didn't hesitate for a second to do the same, pressing you against his chest.

You hadn't made a wish because you felt like you had everything you wanted thanks to Zayne. But you had wished for everything to stay the same. And for the first time, you wished with all your might that a birthday wish would come true.

[formulafanfics13]

Maneater model Wolff reader x max!!! 🤩🙏

She doesn’t chase, she gets chased. She’s hard to get and Max is willing to play the game. As he is the only one who can handle her. A bit of 🔥 but mostly plot please.

The Girl Who Never Chased - MV1 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: Max Verstappen sets his sights on the one girl no one’s ever had — Toto Wolff’s daughter, a sharp-tongued, high-fashion, untouchable force of nature in the paddock. What begins as a dangerous flirtation turns into something neither of them expected: something real. Power, defiance, and longing collide as their secret spirals into full-blown chaos, with the entire paddock watching.

Warnings: Power dynamics, sexual content, emotionally intense scenes, public-private identity conflict, taboo relationship (rival team, daughter of team principal), possessiveness, public exposure, and mild violence (verbal and physical confrontation).

The first time Max saw her, she was leaning against the Mercedes garage wall in white leather boots and sunglasses that cost more than his championship bonus. Not watching anything. Just existing. Calm. Sharp. Like the kind of woman who had never chased a thing in her life.

He didn't know her name at first. But he knew who she was. Everyone did.

The daughter of Toto Wolff. Vienna-born, Milan-made, New York-dominated. Runway darling. Tabloid menace. Vogue’s favorite storm cloud and the paddock’s most unsolvable equation. She was chaos in silk, and no one, not one person, had ever been able to say they had her.

Plenty had tried. Drivers. Team principals. Billionaire sons. They all left the same way. Wrecked.

Max didn't care. She was too pretty not to want. Too proud not to touch. And maybe, just maybe, too much for anyone but him.

He could handle her. He was sure of it.

So when he passed her in the paddock for the first time, she didn’t look up. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t move.

He did. Slight. A glance. Just enough for her to feel.

And she did feel it. She smirked behind her sunglasses and said nothing.

It was Monaco. Of course it was Monaco.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Max looked up from his drink. Charles was leaning against the railing, sunglasses pushed onto his head, jaw clenched.

“What?”

“You know what.”

Max grinned. “Just looking.”

Charles scoffed. “So was everyone else.”

He glanced back across the party. She was there, perched on a velvet couch, drink untouched, legs crossed, a Balenciaga trench draped over her shoulders like she didn’t feel the Mediterranean heat. Lewis was talking to her. Christian Horner was watching from across the room like he was calculating how badly Toto would kill him if he even breathed near her.

“She’s not your type,” Charles said.

Max didn’t look away. “She’s exactly my type.”

“She’ll eat you alive.”

Max finished his drink. “Then I hope she’s hungry.”

*

“You shouldn’t be here.” That was the first thing she said to him.

Not hi. Not your racecraft’s improved. Not what a brave little move in Turn 1, Max. Just a flat statement. No inflection. No fear.

He found her alone on the second floor of the Red Bull motorhome, one leg hooked over the arm of a couch, scrolling through her phone like she wasn’t in the lion’s den.

He smirked. “Should I leave?”

She looked at him. Really looked. No sunglasses now. Just bare, brutal eyes. “If I wanted you to leave,” she said, “you’d already be gone.”

He stepped closer. “I’ve been wondering what you’d say to me.”

She raised a brow. “Why?”

“Because no one else dares.”

“I’m not impressed by trophies.”

He shrugged. “I don’t need you to be.”

Silence.

Then she stood. Slowly. Like smoke. And walked past him with the same swing in her step that had made the front row of Milan lose their breath last season.

“Good,” she said, brushing his shoulder. “Then this might be fun.”

Toto knew. Of course he knew.

He saw the shift. The way Max’s eyes followed her now. The way her smile turned sharper when Red Bull walked by. The subtle touch of fingers in the paddock tunnel. A whisper exchanged in Imola. A private glance at a driver’s briefing.

Toto didn’t say anything. Not at first. Until Spain.

Max was on pole. She was at Mercedes hospitality in head-to-toe Alaïa and a smug look that said I know he wants me and I don’t care who sees it.

Toto pulled her aside after qualifying. Private. Quiet. “Max Verstappen?”

She didn’t blink. “What about him?”

“He’s not-”

“Good enough?”

Toto paused. “Safe.”

She smiled. “Neither am I.”

By the time they finally touched, really touched, it was Austria. His room. Post-race. Hot skin. Open windows. Her shirt still on, panties still off, his hand fisted in her hair while she rode him like he was nothing.

“You think you can handle me?” she asked, breathless, nails digging into his chest.

Max looked up at her like a man drowning in gold. “I want to try.”

She kissed him like a punishment. Bit his lip. Laughed when he moaned. “You’re already mine.”

He came with her name on his tongue and her fingers on his throat.

Outside the room, the paddock was whispering. Drivers talked.

Pierre raised his eyebrows and said “seriously?” when Max walked in late to the simulator.

Yuki told everyone he heard moaning two floors down.

Christian said nothing. But he smiled when Max overtook two cars in the first lap at Silverstone.

Toto saw the bruises on her neck. Didn’t comment. But when she walked into the Mercedes garage in Bottega heels and Max’s hoodie, he did say one thing under his breath.

“God help us all.”

Toto didn’t speak to her on Sunday. Not after the race. Not after the podium. Not even after Max kissed her cheek in full view of two FIA delegates and a sky camera with a direct line to her father’s garage.

It wasn’t a proper kiss. Just a soft, smug brush of his lips to her skin. Subtle. Lethal.

But Toto saw it. And worse, the world saw it.

So when she stepped into the Mercedes motorhome wearing Max’s black hoodie over a white Prada miniskirt, her bare legs still glowing under fluorescent lights, Toto didn’t say hello.

He just looked up from his laptop, jaw tight. “You and Verstappen need to end whatever this is.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Define this.”

“Don’t be clever.”

She smiled slowly. “You raised me clever.”

“I raised you not to fuck Red Bull’s golden boy on race weekends.”

She leaned against the wall, unbothered. “What about off race weekends?”

Toto stood. “You are my daughter,” he said, voice low, accent sharp. “Do you understand what that means?”

“Yes,” she said calmly. “It means the press already sees me as a problem, the paddock is terrified of me, and half your grid has tried and failed to sleep with me because I never make the first move.” She stepped closer. “Except with Max. Because Max made it interesting.”

Toto’s eye twitched.

“You are playing with fire.”

“Maybe I want to get burned.”

Max found her in the hospitality suite after the race, one leg tucked beneath her, hair up, phone in one hand, iced coffee in the other. She didn’t look up until he kicked her foot lightly.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Dad's fuming.”

He smirked. “So nothing new.”

She rolled her eyes. “He thinks I’m going to get you killed.”

Max crouched beside her chair. “He’s not wrong.”

“About the killing?”

“No.” He looked up at her. “About you being dangerous.”

She smiled. “Then why are you still here?”

“Because I’ve never wanted something more.”

Her throat tightened. For once, she didn’t have a clever answer.

That night in Hungary, they skipped the hotel party.

She pulled him by the hand down back corridors. Into the parking garage. Into the back of his rental car.

“You’re still sweaty,” she whispered, climbing into his lap.

“So are you.”

She kissed him like it was the last time. Fingers dragging down his chest, nails biting into his arms as she sank down onto him with a gasp. His hands slid under her blazer, gripping her hips like he couldn’t hold her tight enough.

“Slow down,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“I want to remember this.”

She stilled. Looked into his eyes. “Max,” she whispered. “This was supposed to be fun.”

“It is fun.”

“Not when you start looking at me like that.”

He pulled her closer. “Like what?”

“Like I’m yours.”

“You are.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m nobody’s.”

He kissed her hard. “You’re lying.”

They were caught in Zandvoort.

Not officially. Not in bed.

But they arrived to the paddock together. Laughing. She was wearing his jacket again. He touched her waist as they walked. Too familiar. Too easy.

The press noticed. The WAG accounts lost their minds. Toto texted her four times that night. She ignored them all. Christian Horner tried not to smirk during the team principals’ meeting. And Fred Vasseur, watching from Ferrari hospitality with an espresso and a knowing smile, muttered to Charles, “She always did like the fast ones.”

When the FIA released a new set of press photos before Monza, one showed her. Not posed. Not pre-approved.

Just a blurry image of Max leaning down to whisper something in her ear near the Red Bull garage. Her lips parted. His hand on her lower back. The caption read:

“The Paddock’s Newest Power Couple?”

Toto didn’t speak to her for four days.

It all cracked in Singapore.

Some junior driver, one of the fresh-faced kids trying to prove himself, made a comment in front of the wrong people. Said something about Max’s girl being easy once you got past the fronting. Loud enough for someone to hear. Loud enough for Max to find out.

And Max lost it. He didn’t say much. Just walked into the back of the Red Bull motorhome, grabbed the guy by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.

“You ever speak about her again,” he said, calm as ice, “and I will make sure your career ends before it starts.”

The kid apologized.

Max didn’t care. He told Christian he’d do it again.

She found him later that night. “You can’t fight everyone,” she said.

“I’ll fight anyone who disrespects you.”

“I don’t need protecting.”

“I know. But I want to protect you anyway.”

She looked at him. Really looked. Because it wasn’t a game anymore. Not a chase. Not a power trip.

It was real. And she wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“I’ve never been someone’s,” she whispered.

Max stepped closer. “Then be mine.”

[heartmix]

forgiving means acceptance - CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k+

Summary: She always loved when people remembered the little things about her, but learned to let that go with Charles. Even as far as letting him get away with forgetting the most important date

Warning: hurt to comfort, happy ending, charles lowkey bad bf, forgetting anniversary, sadness, anger

A/N: if this was me this shit would not fly...good thing it ain't. Wasn't going to end it happy but my last CL fic was angst so i decided to make it have a happy ending

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

In previous relationships, you were always one to stress the little things. Good morning and good night texts, remembering your order from your favorite restaurant, and even making sure to put down the toilet seat lid when they were done using it. Everyone who took the time to get to know you knew how you adored and stressed the little details. That all changed when you started dating Charles. 

You knew the challenges of being an F1 driver and being the unofficial Prince of Monaco at that. Agreeing to be his other half meant that you agreed to the lifestyle of it all. This relationship was going to be intense and unlike anything you had experienced before. 

In the first few months, you tried to remind him of the little things and how much it mattered to you. After some time had passed, and trying to show that the little things mattered to you, the reminders fell through. He did try, and he listened, but he was doing so much at once that the little things were never important to him. One thing you learned about him very quickly was that he was the bigger picture type of person. At first, you were a bit annoyed with it, but seeing more of his day-to-day, you've learned to let it go. 

It wasn't like he didn't love you - he absolutely did, and he made sure to tell you that every day. At times, you wondered if he did. Words meant nothing if actions didn't back them up. He should know better than anyone - he could say the team was going good, but if there were no podium results, then that was all for nothing. 

At first, you were angry at him for not paying attention to what you considered important. Then that anger turned into sadness. Many nights, the worries got to you, and you would stay up thinking if he loved you like the way you loved him. You always paid attention to the little details when it came to him and did your best to cater to his love language. Now it was a year later, and you found a way to be numb to it. You still loved him - that hasn't gone away, but after missing your anniversary, you knew that you should fully let go of him ever catering to you. 

It was hard to hide it from the people around you. They noticed how you wouldn't get upset at the man for forgetting things or missing a lunch you had planned. That alone raised some eyebrows, but they let it go, seeing how much you loved him and he loved you. They would think otherwise if they knew he forgot your anniversary two months ago. 

"Hey, what did you and Charles do for your anniversary? Jake and I are coming up on our one year, and I don't know what to do." Your best friend asked while on FaceTime. You were currently in Canada for the Canadian Grand Prix - you figured you'd kill some time while waiting in Charles' driver's room so you both could get something to eat before he needed to be back to reviewing data. 

"Oh, um.. He took me to dinner at this fancy ramen place while we were in Japan." You nervously came up with something on the spot. It wasn't a total lie. The day of your anniversary coincided with the Japanese Grand Prix weekend, and you did eat Ramen, but it was dinner with his brother, Arthur, as well. 

"Well shit not like I can fly to japan for a simple dinner, but maybe we can go to the place we first met." She thought out loud, making you smile at the thought of her putting a lot of consideration into the special date. Romance was still alive and well for some people. 

"That's honestly, really romantic. I say that's the best date."

"Aw, thanks, babes. Hey, I need to go, it's almost midnight here." 

"Please get some sleep - I'm going to grab something to eat and I'll text you when we get back to the hotel. I love you."

"I love you too, Bye!" As soon as the call disconnected, your smile dropped. You hated lying to her, but you would rather shield your feelings away than have your best friend hate Charles for the rest of her life. 

It wasn't like you meant for your smile to drop. It was natural at this point to put on a persona when talking about you and Charles. Quickly, you shook away any doubts, knowing Charles could walk in at any time. You didn't want him worrying about you when he had a race weekend to focus on. 

As you were getting up to collect your things, to find him, there he was waiting by the door with a frown on his face. The thought of him overhearing your conversation didn't cross your mind. The first thing you guessed was something with the car or the team. 

"What's wrong, baby?" You walked up to him, seeing if you could search in his eyes if he was angry or frustrated. Instead, you found sadness and disbelief. 

"I missed our anniversary?" His voice was soft, borderline broken. There was no way he forgot, did he? 

"Don't worry about it - it was a race week, so it's okay." You tried to reassure him, squeezing his hands to let him know it was okay and you weren't mad at him - not anymore at least. 

"No, it's not okay. How could I forget? Why didn't you tell me?" It wasn't an accusatory tone, more like why didn't you say something, get mad at him, cry, or anything. Why didn't you react in any sort of way? 

"You won in Japan and your first win of the season, how could I take that away? Our anniversary wasn't important at that moment." 

"You're wrong, it's more important. What kind of boyfriend am I not to put you first?" He was now getting mad, his voice rising and his tone harsher. Not at you, just at the circumstance, at himself. 

"Racing is your life, it was there before me."

"But you're my future. You shouldn't have let me get away with missing something that important or anything that's going on. I'm so sorry, mon cherie." He pulled you in for a hug with a kiss planted on top of your head. It was to reassure him more than you. 

"It's okay, it doesn't affect me anymore." Sensing you weren't telling the entire he pulled back, looking at you unsure. There was something deeper, and he knew.

"Stop lying to me. Tell me what's going on." 

"I'm learning to accept that not everything is going to be catered to me. Walking into this relationship, I knew what I signed up for. Your fast life doesn't accommodate my needs. But that's okay, I'm learning as I go."

"You've got to help me here." He asked, still not understanding what you were trying to say. 

"I was always the type to stress the little things. The little gestures are what make me the happiest. Like remembering my order from my favorite restaurant or texting me goodnight when we're not seeing each other for the night. I've learned to let it go early on, and I understand how busy you are, so because I've let that go, I've let everything else you do go." The confession felt all over the place, but relieving, it was bottled up for months, and now that it was finally out, it made you feel just a bit better. 

"You let me forgetting our anniversary go." He clarified with the utmost sadness in his tone. 

"Yeah. I know it wasn't because you didn't love me. I know you do. That's why I learned to let it go." 

"Do you ever do that again. I don't care how busy I am, I forget how fast things go, and sometimes things slip. I shouldn't even need you to remind me. Not only for our anniversary, but for things that make you happy. There isn't going to be a next time, but please yell, hit, scream, do anything because I will not accept anything less. Not when it comes to you." He let it all out in one go, and you couldn't help the smile that was forming on the corner of your lips. 

"Okay." You didn't know what else to say. It was everything you wanted to hear, but now you're speechless. 

"Okay, as in you're going to ingrain in my mind everything you deem important. Okay, as in you will yell at me next time. Do it in front of the garage so everyone will give me shit for it." You couldn't help but laugh at the seriousness in his voice. You knew he wanted the team to take him seriously, so him telling you to basically humiliate him was something you didn't think would come out of his mouth. 

"I don't know about the last part, but okay to the first part." 

"I can settle for that." He smiled one of his million-dollar smiles. "So here's the plan. I'm going to win this race, then you and I are going to Greece for a small two-week break. About time you live your mamma mia dreams."

"You remembered?" Looking at him in shock that he remembered your dream vacation spot. Sure, maybe the standards were low at this point, but you were still taken aback. 

"Oh, I'm not that bad of a boyfriend."

"You did forget our anniversary." You teased, making him roll his eyes. Now that he knew the truth, you were going to weaponize it every chance you could, but he didn't mind one bit. 

"I deserve that."

"But Greece sounds great."  You clarified, making his smile widen. 

"Good because I will continue to make this up to you for the rest of our lives." 

[userluhna]

࿔⋆ LIKE LIVING

dad!hwangjunho x mom!pregnant!reader

based on this request

words: 1.3k

warnings: adoption. pregnancy. childbirth. season three spoilers. soft domestic life<3

a/n: might be the last request i write like this—junho discovering the baby with his girlfriend/wife—because it’s starting to feel a bit repetitive. however, if you guys want small scenes of what dad!junho looks like when the baby’s older, I’M DOWN FOR IT OKAY. you can also find more in: still ours. new dad.

enjoy! :)

you and junho met in winter, years ago—you were at the same café. it wasn’t the first time you saw him there, but he always passed through, coffee in hand, never staying long. never long enough. until one day, you went for him. right after he took his coffee—

“hey!” you had said, a little louder than intended. because the way he looked at you—he seemed on guard. not afraid, just ready. like he’d been waiting for this moment but didn’t know from who, or why. “sorry,” you added quickly, stepping a little closer—not too close, just enough so you didn’t have to raise your voice. “just—i see you, often, there,” you said, pointing awkwardly to the café window. “and […]” you were awkward. painfully awkward. and he was just there, listening to you, eyes steady like he hadn’t talked to anyone in years. “so yeah,” you said, because the silence was too much. “i’m sorry. i probably don’t have time for this anyway.” your lips pressed into a tight line as you turned and slipped back into the café. but maybe two days later, he sat beside you. coffee in hand.

“the light is really good,” he said.

and from there, it just… went. small coffee dates. soft mornings. you told him about the films you loved. he told you he read sometimes. you told him he should think about himself more. he told you he couldn’t. and still—you helped. without meaning to, you helped so much. he found comfort in you. a shoulder when he was too tired. his hand finding yours when he got anxious. his palm at your back to ground you in crowded rooms.

you grew safer and safer with each other.

so safe that one day, he asked you to marry him. so safe that he told you about his brother—not everything, but enough. so safe that he showed you his wound. so safe that he explained. so safe that he rested his head on your shoulder and cried. so fucking safe that when you handed him a positive pregnancy test, saying nothing, he didn’t even hesitate—he just looked at you, confused, and then hugged you so hard your feet left the ground. “oh my god—” he breathed, voice full, body shaking. “we’re having a baby.”

and you nodded, crying, just because you were happy. he moved with you through your pregnancy—slow, careful. his hand would brush your belly even before it started showing. his lips too, gentle and quiet. “hi there,” he’d whisper at night, like a lullaby. “talking to you early so you get to pick favorites.” you pinched his ear.

“ow, hey— that hurts!” he gasped, as if a tiny pinch could kill him. it was around three months in. you were craving rice and sauce, early morning. junho was already up, making breakfast. when he heard your footsteps in the hallway, he turned around.

“hi love,” he said softly, moving toward you like it was a dance he’d practiced for years. “slept well?” his lips brushed your temple. his hands rested over your belly. you nodded, still sleepy. “need to grab a few things from the store. you wanna come before it gets crowded?”

“oh yes please.”

you went, got what you needed, paid. really, it was such a small, normal thing—barely took time. but when you returned—oh god. you stepped inside, slipping off your shoes, and junho was already moving with the grocery bags—until he froze.

“june? you okay?” you asked, coming closer—only to freeze too. “what the—” your hand found your belly, as if to make sure it was still there. he didn’t speak. just opened a black envelope that had been left by the door.

inside: a golden card. player 222. winner. your eyes jumped from the baby, to the card, back again.

“just—it, oh my god.” you breathed, steadying yourself against junho’s shoulder. his hand found your waist, holding you tight—but his eyes were on the card. he pulled it out. a credit card. and then he looked at you—lips parted, eyes wide, searching for answers he knew weren’t there. “is it from the fucking games?” you asked. he nodded. unsure, but still—he nodded.

you couldn’t even believe it. your free hand covered your mouth. his hand—the one not holding your waist—moved to your cheek, brushing tears you hadn’t even noticed were falling. and junho—he was speechless. he always had something to say, even if small. but now, nothing. you just stood there. with a baby that wasn’t yours. with another one not yet born. his forehead rested against yours, eyes closed, like even they had run out of words. minutes passed. you breathed out.

“okay,” you whispered, wiping your tears. stepping back to meet his eyes. “okay. so… what do we do now? how much is on that card?” and junho—he already knew. he’d seen it before. the kind of money gihun walked away with. and from his face, you could tell—it was a lot.

you moved eventually. junho strapped the baby to his chest, walked beside you, checked the balance on the card. and you just looked at each other. fucking stared. two days later, you used it. for diapers. for the little girl who’d been left at your door.

you had talked—god, you’d talked so much. sleepless nights, whispering about what this meant. you were three months pregnant. in six months, you’d have two babies. the one thing that was clear: the money from the card, knowing where it came from, would be for the baby. only the baby.

you asked for help—how to manage two. leaned on your parents, your sister. junho apologized, knowing no one from his side could help. you asked your friends. good ones. the ones who didn’t hesitate. you filled out paperwork. because the baby didn’t have any. you named her—hyejin.

it was like meeting your baby early. way too early. but you were okay. because you knew. because you had time to prepare. even if, some nights, it was hard. even if you felt distant. disconnected. but then—love arrived. quietly. in the middle of the afternoon, when she fell asleep on your chest. at night, when she cried and junho was holding her, but she still wanted your voice.

junho kept taking care of you. you were still pregnant, still heavy, still tired. he massaged your ankles when they hurt, even with hyejin drooling all over him. you laughed.

“she’s drooling, you know?”

“no way??” he gasped, fake offended. “yah, that’s not fair!” you squealed, kicking your feet lightly. careful not to disturb hyejin. “you’re not fair—” he muttered, hand over his chest, pretending to be wounded. “i’m pregnant. i have every right.” he laughed through his nose, the quiet kind of laugh that meant he was totally defeated. oh, and junho—he didn’t hesitate with her. held her like she was the most fragile, most precious thing. maybe it was instinct. maybe guilt. maybe just love.

sometimes he whispered, “you’re so safe, baby.” other times, he said nothing at all—just held her. watched the sky shift through the windows. and you—pregnant, heavier each day—watched them. and you loved her. not because you had to. not because you chose to. but because love came anyway.

then the delivery came. quietly. middle of the afternoon. hyejin was at your dad’s—he insisted. the due date was near and you needed rest. then you felt it. the warm trickle down your leg.

“junho—” you called, not loud. not scared. just needing. hours later. crying. sweating. clinging. she came. alive. strong.

you still remember junho’s face when he held her—wrecked with wonder. “she’s here,” he whispered, forehead against yours. “you did it.”

they’re different, your daughters. hyejin is quiet. watchful. like she’s already survived too much, even if she won’t remember it. she clings to junho’s hand when the world gets loud. buries into your lap when strangers come too close.

your newborn is louder. impatient. she wants warmth, milk, everything, now. but her eyes—god, her eyes. they look just like junho’s. wide and calm and full of something still.

some days, it feels like a miracle. other days—it just feels like living.

masterlist

[r66dusthewriter]

Hello! This is my first ever request! I was wondering if you could do a Drew starkey x actress(reader) who have been together for a while now but the public doesn’t know. And they’re spotted together in the set OBX 5 being all cute

I loved you here

Pairing: Drew Starkey x fem!reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

a/n: Extra fic this week! this is my favorite trope so ask for more, i begggggg. Actually i'm already plotting for a fic hehehe, might've already written it even 👹

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 0,8k

It was the last first day back on set and as bittersweet as that was, you couldn’t help the flicker of joy curling in your chest. For the first time in months, you and Drew would be in the same city, your schedules finally aligning like stars that had kept missing each other in orbit. It sounded like an insane way to maintain a healthy relationship, seeing each other between shoots, flights, time zones and premieres, but it worked and had worked for five years now, soon to be six. 

Quiet, solid and steady amidst the chaos.

Everyone was already out in wardrobe, gathering in groups on set to take promo pictures when you finally stepped out of the makeup trailer. Your stylist adjusted a hair strand behind you as the makeup artists trailed out, checking your face under the light one last time.

You picked up your pace slightly, not wanting to keep anyone waiting and then you saw Drew standing near the edge of the uneven ground where the trail met the set’s main path, a little higher up than the rest. His gaze lifted, caught yours and as always, softened instantly.

You smiled. “Hi baby.”

“Hi,” he said back, just as warm. “You didn’t have to rush.”

You reached the edge of the drop and before you could think of climbing down, Drew stepped forward, gripped your waist and lifted you gently off the ledge, placing you down right in front of him like it was second nature. You steadied yourself with a hand on his chest. “You didn’t have to wait.”

“I wanted to,” he simply said, his voice low and easy. “You look beautiful.”

You brushed his hand as you fell into step beside him, pinkies barely brushing until they caught and looped together for just a second between you and around, castmates and crew chatted as they walked, heading toward the first shoot location.

“Last first day,” he said quietly.

You glanced around, the familiarity of it all sinking in. “I’m definitely crying on the last day.”

“I’ll start tonight,” he laughed.

You chuckled, nudging his shoulder. “Have you thought about what you’re gonna ask to keep?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost too quickly.

You gave him a look. “Oh really? That confident?”

“Mhm. I’m not asking though and I already stole it.”

You blinked, curious. “It better not be more of the gold, because if you’re stockpiling, I’ve got to return mine before we get in trouble.”

Drew grinned, turning his head just enough to catch your expression. “It’s you, baby. Found you here first and I’m not giving you back.”

You bumped into him with a laugh and slid an arm around his waist as you walked. He squeezed your side gently in return.

“That was smooth,” you said, impressed.

“I try.”

You reached up and plucked the sunglasses off his face, sliding them onto your own. “You nailed it, baby. Don’t doubt yourself.”

It had been obvious from the start that you were each other’s best thing. The quarantine FaceTime calls, all the red carpets, night shoots, line rehearsals and late-night takeout meals in cramped trailers, were all part of the story. Growing up in this industry with Drew had changed your life in more ways than you could count but most of all, it had made everything feel a little less heavy and a whole lot more worth it.

For the next few hours, as you moved between locations for the photos, you and Drew created a game. One of you would point at a spot on set and the other would tell the memory tied to it. That bench where you both fell asleep during a night shoot in season two, that path you’d ran off to, to kiss hiding from prying eyes and the dock behind the crew tent where you’d whispered “I think I’m in love with you,” when you hadn’t meant to.

As always, unsurprisingly so, you forgot people could see that sort of connection, much less film it, which was what happened.

You and Drew had always been quiet about it and as discreet as you could, or at least, you thought you were. But that moment had been captured, as many others by the always-watchful lenses of fans across the field. The videos were posted within the hour and then they were everywhere.

obsessedfilmupdates  are they friends?

outerbnxfiles  Sooo much worse

rafeanatics  Last year hoping they’ll fall in love 😪

sunkissedstarkey  I need them to realise they’re perfect for each other like FAST

outerbanksfeed   Stand down, soldier. I think we did it

The comments poured in like waves, relentless, warm and achingly observant. Fans had always seen it, what had always lived quietly between the takes and under the surface. The comfort, the soft familiarity and the way you looked at each other like home. Even without confirmation, it was a fantasy millions had collectively chosen to internalise. It maybe wasn’t yet real to them but clearly it wasn’t a performance either and that was more than enough.

If this was the beginning of the end, this last season, this last stretch of long nights and early mornings, you were okay with it—because he had been there at the start and you knew, no matter where the story ended on screen, he’d be there long after the credits rolled.

[kiplex]

Your boyfriend was so distracting. If you look up distracting in the dictionary, you're 99% sure there would be a picture of Caleb. You were trying to get some work done in his living room, typing away at your computer when he sauntered in wearing gym clothes. He has been really good at leaving you alone for most of the day, to give you your space to work but you could tell he was up to something the second he entered the room.

“I'm gonna drink some pre-work and then head to the gym." He says casually leaning against the door frame. You look at him. Man… Caleb Xia truly was God's favorite when it came to looks. You hate that he just looks so effortlessly beautiful. Your eyes scan his body, his hair is perfectly messy, his cologne wafts your way, his biceps on display, completely unbitten- it was almost too much to bare.

Your head snaps back to your laptop. You're almost done, you have to stay focused. Work now, bite your boyfriend's biceps later. " Yeah, whatever you want to do. ”He scoffs at your audacity. “Wow Pips, if I died, your last words to me would have been ‘yeah whatever’!” He shakes his head. "My girlfriend hates me.” He hangs his head in jest, but you can see that playful smirk hiding behind his facade. He wants to play games, fine you'll bite. "Caleb, that's not what I even said!? When have I ever said I hate you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. " Literally just now Pips, what do you mean?” You roll your eyes at him. “You are so dramatic." Caleb clutches his chest. " Wow just tell me to kill myself while your at it!” He wails, no longer even bothering to hide the grin on his face.

You shut your laptop and stand up in one fluid motion, crossing the room in big strides. "You're sooo annoying. Do you ever stop?” You huff, shoving him playfully, before tossing your laptop on to the couch. Caleb's eyes sparkle, reveling in the attention. "Ermm actually, this is the first time I've talked to you all day… soooooo…” "Yeah and in the span of a few minutes you've already managed to annoy me, that might be a personal record.” You must stay strong, you can feel your control slipping as your eyes rake over your boyfriend, who was grinning down at you like he'd won the lottery.

“Mmm not sure about that. I can get more annoying if you want." He wiggles an eyebrow at you and oddly enough that breaks your work minded demeanor. A hand flies to his cheek, you gently pinch the skin there. “One day!! That's all I asked for!!! I love you, but God living under the same roof as you is difficult. You have no idea how lethal you look right now, it's not fair; it's just distracting." You groan at him, your free hand softly poking him in the ribs. He laughs, as you continue to poke and prod at him, it's cuteness aggression at its finest.

He leans down, being a whole 2 heads taller than you, he towers over you. “Yeahhh and?" He drawls. You yank his head down farther, your lips ghosting over his. “I'm gonna do something about it." Your lips press against his, immediately you feel his smirk against your lips. Caleb 1, you 0.

Satisfied, you feel his entire body fold into yours as you kiss him with a little bit more urgency. He takes the opportunity to work his hands on your hips, pulling you in closer. “Am I still annoying you?” He asks, his hands toying with the hem of your baggy oversized shirt. "Because I can think of a lot more interesting ways to annoy you... Can keep you real distracted for the rest of the night…" He chuckles, his breath dancing across your neck.

Caleb may be a distraction, but maybe he can be welcomed one, just this time…

You can find my master list here!

My requests are also open!!