#i think that last point—we’ve talked about it before yeah?

[daryltwdixon]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You and Tommy had been trying for a baby for years. When a trip to the gyno answers questions you didn’t even know to ask, your husband enlists the help of his one and only brother.

|| smut MDNI 18+, pinv, no outbreak, talk of infertility, not cheating but def not exactly kosher, baby makin', breeding kink, dirty talk, size kink, boundaries being crossed || notes: forgive me father for I have sinned. this is filthy. but also thinking about a part 2. kinda sorta maybe inspired by some crazy reddit stories. you'd be surprised how many there are like this LOL

You knew this was a crazy idea. Batshit crazy, actually. You were aware. But maybe, just maybe, if you spun it the right way, if you framed it with enough love and logic, it wouldn’t seem so absurd.

See, the thing is, you and Tommy had been trying for a baby for years. Trying and, well, failing. It wasn’t until your last visit to the OB-GYN that a simple question—"Has Tommy ever been tested?"—sent everything spiraling. A few weeks of waiting. A single piece of paper. An answer you never expected. It wasn’t you. It was him.

Not that you’d ever blame him. You loved him too much. But no matter how many old wives’ tricks you tried—holding your legs up after he emptied himself into you, orgasms before and after, cinnamon and honey in your morning tea—nothing could change the fact that no amount of effort would make it stick.

Which brings you to now. Sat at the kitchen table in your quaint, cozy home with Joel across from you, a few glasses of wine deep. His expression was somewhere between exhausted and mildly entertained from whatever dumb story Tommy had been telling. You’d needed a glass yourself, just to steady your nerves.

And then Tommy popped the question.

Joel blinked once. Twice. His mouth opened, then shut again, then opened just enough for a noise—somewhere between a scoff and an incredulous laugh—to escape. He shifted in his chair, pushing back just slightly, like he needed to physically distance himself from what he was hearing.

“You…” he started, then stopped. Shook his head. “You want me to—?”

He didn’t even finish the sentence. Just motioned vaguely, like the words were so ridiculous they refused to come out of his mouth.

Tommy sighed, his grip firm around your hand while the other wrapped around your shoulders. “Yeah.”

Joel exhaled sharply, eyes darting between the two of you, like maybe, just maybe, this was a joke. That you'd all start laughing and point at him with a big 'got ya!'. His lips parted slightly, his forehead creased.

“You’re serious.”

“We wouldn’t ask anyone else,” Tommy said, voice steady.

Joel let out a breathy laugh, hollow and disbelieving. He dragged a hand down his face before pressing his palms against the table, fingers splaying out like he needed to brace himself.

“This ain’t a normal conversation to be havin’ over dinner, Tommy.”

“We know.”

“Do you?” Joel snapped, finally looking at his brother again, his voice sharper now. “Because I gotta tell ya, it really don’t seem like you do.”

“This ain’t easy for either of us,” Tommy said, his voice steady despite the tension winding between the three of you. “But we wouldn’t ask anyone else. We want to keep it in the family, so…the baby would still be related to me.”

Joel’s jaw tensed. His fingers gripped the stem of his wine glass like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. 

He looked over in your direction, but not directly at you, just at the table. At your hand in Tommy’s.

“And you’re…okay with this?” His voice was different now. Lower. Measured, like he was afraid of the answer.

You nodded. “We’ve talked about it. A lot. Ever since the results came back, we’ve been weighing options, and this—” You hesitated, swallowing, trying to gauge if he was even absorbing a single word. “It makes the most sense. More than adopting. More than a stranger. It keeps things in the family.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his ears tinged pink. He still wasn’t looking at you.

Not until you said his name. Soft. Careful.

His eyes flicked to yours, just for a second. Just long enough for you to see everything—the disbelief, the sheer what the fuck of it all—before he dropped his gaze again, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to decide now,” you said gently, exhaling softly. “Just… take some time to think about it.”

Joel didn’t respond.

A few minutes later, he left—no joke, no small talk of the next Sunday night football game could cut through the weight pressing down on the room. Just a stiff nod, a muttered see ya, and the quiet sound of the door closing behind him.

The following Sunday, it almost felt like the conversation had never happened.

The three of you sat at the sports bar, watching the Cowboys play on the massive screens, the air thick with the scent of beer and fried food. Tommy was his usual self, shouting at the refs, leaning into Joel’s shoulder every time the score tipped in their favor. Joel, on the other hand, was harder to read. He was relaxed enough, beer in hand, his usual dry remarks slipping out here and there, but there was something quieter beneath it all—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Not one mention of a baby. Not a single word about what you’d asked of him.

And maybe that was his answer.

When your husband got up, throwing out the excuse of takin’ a leak, the energy between you and Joel shifted. Not in a way you could name—just… thicker. More noticeable.

He sat a seat away, the empty barstool between you like a buffer neither of you had the nerve to close.

You tried to let it roll off your shoulders, but as you sat there, your mind wandered. What if Joel had said yes? What if it worked? Would the baby have his dark eyes, that heavy, thoughtful brow? Would they get that serious little crease between their eyes when they were thinking? His thick hair, his strong hands?

Tommy would still be their father. That was what mattered. That was the whole point. But the idea of seeing traces of Joel—subtle things, the shape of a nose, the curve of a smile…

The thought sent a strange, unfamiliar feeling curling in your chest.

It hurt, his lack of an answer, of course it did. But how could you blame him? You were asking for too much. Asking him to do something unnatural, something messy, something that could never be as clean and logical as you and Tommy had tried to convince yourselves it was.

You swallowed, setting your drink down as the silence stretched. “Listen, Joel—”

“I’ll do it.”

It was quiet. Like he wasn’t sure if he meant to say it out loud.

Your breath caught, as you stared at him, mouth agape. The side of his face gave nothing away as he kept his eyes on the TV as you waited for some kind of smirk, some sign that he was messing with you.

But he wasn’t.

Joel kept his eyes averted, like this was the kind of thing a person could say without looking someone in the eye. He took a long drink from his bottle, then set it down with a dull thud.

“You and Tommy deserve this,” he murmured, rolling the glass between his palms as he stared down at it. “To have a kid.”

Your heart constricted at the sincerity in his voice.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “My life is better ‘cause of Sarah. Don’t think I ever told Tommy that outright, but… it is. I’d love to see him get to have that too.”

You blinked. “Are you…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “You serious?”

Joel turned to you finally, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since last week before you dropped the bomb on him, “Yeah.” he said finally, “Yeah, I’m serious.”

He was clearly uncomfortable, clearly still working through it—but the fact that he said it at all, that he meant it... that was more than you expected.

To be honest, you knew the baster idea wouldn’t work.

Not that you’d ever say it out loud. Not to your very loving, very kind, very hopeful husband. But deep down, you were pretty sure that by the time Joel had taken care of himself, transferred it into a container, driven it over, and you’d sat back on the bed with your legs up, whatever needed to be alive in there was long dead.

You didn’t bring it up. Couldn’t. Not when Tommy was trying so hard to make this work.

Across from you in the kitchen one morning, another negative pregnancy test sitting between you, your husband sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw before reaching for his mug, “If I ask you somethin’,” he murmured, voice low, hesitant, “will you tell me the truth?”

Your eyes flicked up to his. “Of course, baby.”

His hand rested on the granite, fingers close enough that you reached out, tracing them lightly with your own. His eyes drifted down to your delicate touch against him.

Then, he exhaled slowly and cleared his throat.

“Do you think we should try…” His fingers twitched under yours. “Ya know. The old-fashioned way?”

For a second, the words didn’t land.

Not until you saw the way his eyes found yours and he was looking at you—serious, thoughtful, like he’d been turning it over in his head for longer than he wanted to admit.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Tommy sighed, pressing his lips together before setting his coffee down. “I just think… for it to stick properly, we might need to try somethin’ more… natural.”

Your mind reeled. Heat crept up your neck, flushing your skin before you could stop it.

The idea of being with another man…

Tommy saw it. The way your lips parted, the way your breath caught just slightly.

He stepped closer, smoothing his hands over your cheeks, tilting your face up toward his.

“Only if you were comfortable with it,” he assured, voice gentle, steady. “I’d never ask you to do somethin’ you didn’t wanna do.”

You swallowed hard, still trying to process. “I—I don’t know, Tommy.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “And Joel would flip out if we asked that of him.”

Tommy hummed, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “Yeah, he might.”

Might was an understatement.

Joel was over the following day to help with your bathroom remodel, a project the brothers had taken on during the slow season. You were busy finishing whatever odds and ends you needed to get done upstairs when you heard his voice traveling through the house.

Not just his voice—but the volume of it.

“Are you outta your goddamn mind?!”

The sound rattled through the house, shaking the walls as you hovered at the top of the stairs, heart pounding.

“Joel—” Tommy’s voice, calm but firm.

“No. No, you don’t get to ‘Joel’ me right now, Tommy, because what you just said—what you just— Christ.” There was the distinct sound of something slamming—a fist on the table? A chair shoved back? You weren’t sure, but it made you wince.

“Look, man, I knew you’d be pissed,” Tommy started, only to be cut off immediately.

“Oh, did you?” Joel’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You knew I’d be pissed, but you went ahead and asked anyway? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I’m already crossin’ so many lines with what we’re doin’, and now you’re askin’ me to…to—!?”

You could picture it perfectly—Joel pacing the length of the room, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair, winding up, because when Joel was really mad, he didn’t just stand there.

“You’re makin’ it a bigger deal than it is,” Tommy tried, tone even.

Joel let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand the part where you just asked me to fuck your wife?”

Heat crawled up your neck.

“We ain’t askin’ that, Jesus, Joel, don’t talk about her like—”

“You are absolutely askin’ that.”

“It’s not like that.”

“The hell it ain’t!”

Silence. Heavy, tense.

You swallowed hard, gripping the banister, unsure whether to go down there or stay put.

Then—Joel’s voice, lower now, but still laced with disbelief.

“Tell me you didn’t really think I’d say yes to this.”

And Tommy, just as steady as ever:

“I think you wanna say no.” A pause, and you could almost feel the shift in the air between them. “But deep down? I think you’re already considerin’ it.”

Joel let out a slow, sharp exhale, but he didn’t argue.

And a week later, he was back at your doorstep.

There were three rules.

1. No kissing.

That was the hard line, the non-negotiable. Kissing was too intimate— too personal, too close to something else entirely. You could rationalize everything else, strip it down to the mechanics of what needed to happen, but kissing blurred the lines. That made it mean something. And this couldn’t mean anything.

2. No talking about it outside the bedroom. 

No slipping up over dinner, no awkward mentions in passing, no weird jokes over a few beers. It had to stay contained. A thing that only existed in a room with the door closed and the world shut out. Because once it bled into the rest of your life—once it became something you acknowledged beyond those four walls—it would become real.

3. No names

No whispered Joel in the dark, he couldn’t say yours while he was inside you. Names had weight. Names had meaning. And the second you said them, it stopped being about a baby.

So when your ovulation window came within the next few days, you found yourself in your bedroom with the two brothers. When Tommy excused himself from the room—pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading out to meet his buddies at the bar like this wasn’t the weirdest fucking thing in the world— you turned to Joel

Over the years, you’d come to know him, grown comfortable with him. That familiarity should’ve helped, should’ve made this easier. But sitting here now, alone in the bedroom with him, awkward was an understatement.

Joel sighed, rubbing his forefinger and thumb along his brows as he stood at the edge of the bed. “Guess we better get to it, then.”

You nodded numbly, tucking your legs beneath you on the bedspread, looking up at him.

He was already tense, broad shoulders squared, avoiding your gaze like you weren’t even in the damn room. He exhaled sharply, then—without ceremony—unbuckled his belt. The clink of metal sent a strange ripple through your stomach, but you forced yourself to focus, watching as he shucked his jeans down to his thighs, taking his boxers with them.

Your breath caught.

Even soft as he was at the moment, he was bigger than Tommy. Thicker.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting his stance, one hand bracing against the bedpost while the other wrapped around himself. He wasn’t looking at you. Not even close. His gaze stayed fixed somewhere off to the side, jaw locked, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he started moving his hand.

It wasn’t working.

Minutes passed, the air between you thick and suffocating, but he remained… soft. The tension in his face deepened, brows knitting, his motions growing stilted.

You chewed your lip, watching as his frustration mounted.

“You don’t gotta sit there starin’ at me,” he muttered, voice gruff, like this was somehow your fault.

You exhaled through your nose. “I’m just… tryin’ to think how I can help.”

His hand stilled. “You’re fine. Just–just give me a minute,”

Then suddenly as the idea struck, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it up.

Joel’s head snapped toward you, eyes going wide. “What’re you doin’?” His voice was sharp, edged in something that sounded suspiciously close to panic.

You hesitated. “Just… thought maybe it’d help.”

“Well, don’t.” His ears were red. “Keep your damn clothes on.”

You huffed. “Jesus, it’s just a shirt.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but let it go, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe any of this was happening.

Another beat of silence, only the sound of skin on skin filling the air as he fisted himself.

“Can I help?”

His gaze flicked to yours, skeptical. “Help how?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. What do you like?”

Joel tensed. “…The hell kinda question is that?”

“A valid one,” you shot back, tilting your head. “C’mon, there’s gotta be somethin’. What do you like?”

He hesitated, shifting where he stood, uncomfortable. You rattled off a few suggestions, some kinks you’d heard of. He barely reacted.

Then finally, one seemed to slap him upside the head, “Do you like dirty talk?”

His entire body stilled.

His eyes finally, finally found yours.

Bingo.

A slow pulse of heat curled low in your stomach.

You leaned forward slightly, voice softer now. “What kind of things do you say?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at you, the tension in his jaw loosening, his pupils starting to widen.

“Come on, Joel,” you said, then immediately pressed your lips together, realizing you’d already broken one of your own rules—not even five minutes in.

“Sorry—” You exhaled, shaking your head. “But c’mon, do you want me to talk to you? Or what do you usually say to women?”

Joel’s eyes were suddenly burning into you, his chest rising and falling just a little heavier now. He exhaled sharply, remembering himself as his gaze flickered around the room like he wasn’t sure where to land it, like maybe if he didn’t look at you, this would stay clinical—mechanical.

“I uh…” He wet his lips, voice rough. “Usually will tell ‘em they’re bein’ real good for me,” he said, exhaling through his teeth. “Bein’ a good girl.”

The temperature of the room shifted, the air growing heavy, pressing down on you. A slow, pooling ache pulsed low in your belly. His nostrils flared as his eyes found yours again, like maybe he could see exactly what that did to you.

You swallowed, “What else?”

Joel’s hips twitched. He hesitated, his grip flexing around himself, fingers curling just slightly. You caught the bob of his throat, the faint shift of his stance. He was getting there.

His gaze dropped to your mouth. “Tell ‘em how pretty they look on their knees.” His voice had taken on a new weight—thicker, heavier, his drawl rolling low in his throat. “How sweet they sound when they moan for me. How bad I wanna feel ‘em wrapped around me, drippin’ and ready, beggin’ for more.”

The room contracted, the air impossibly tight, each breath harder to pull in. Your skin felt hot, your lips parting as you fought to keep your breathing steady. And you knew—knew—your pupils were wide, knew your face was flushed.

Because his was too.

His eyes had darkened, locked on yours, heat simmering beneath the surface. You inhaled deeply, the air between you charged, electric. You reached out, fingers grazing along his forearm. He tensed, muscles flexing beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“You wanna take this off?” you murmured, voice quiet but sure, fingers tracing up toward the sleeve of his shirt.

Joel let out a slow breath, something flickering behind his eyes—hesitation, uncertainty—but then, after a beat, he reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor.

Your gaze raked over him.

Christ. He was the epitome of masculinity—broad and solid, built like something carved from rough earth, from long years of labor and hardship. His chest was strong, lined with thick, dark hair that tapered down his stomach in a steady trail, leading lower—disappearing into the patch just above where he was hardening in his hand. 

Your mouth was dry, your pulse a slow, deliberate thrum in your veins.

You lifted your hands to the hem of your own shirt, pausing just slightly. He hadn’t looked away.

“Okay?” you asked softly.

His jaw flexed, gaze dark, unreadable—but after a second, he nodded.

You pulled it over your head, the fabric slipping away, baring more skin than you’d ever thought he’d see.

Joel exhaled sharply, his eyes dragging down your body, heavy and slow, his pupils swallowing the color of his eyes. Your nipples pebbled in the open air, a shiver running through you as his gaze settled there, his breath hitching just slightly.

You reached for him again, fingers trailing along the hard lines of his chest, dipping over the planes of his stomach. He was warm beneath your touch and he smelled like pine and musk and something richer, something leathered and sun-baked—something distinctly Joel.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “O—okay,” he exhaled, voice rough. “I think I’m… good,” he added shakily, and you could see his body finally catching up to the filth rolling off his tongue, the thick weight of him fully hard now. You swallowed dryly at the sheer size of him in his palm.

Standing slowly, your hands dropped from his body, but your eyes never left his as you slid your pants down your hips and let them pool at your feet.

Bare. You were both bare.

Your gaze dragged over him, from the broad stretch of his shoulders down to his stomach, the solid cut of his thighs, his cock standing thick and heavy between you. It was the most you’d ever seen of him. The most he’d ever seen of you.

And he was beautiful.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tight as his gaze traveled over every inch of you. Then, wordlessly, you laid back down on the bedspread, opening your legs for him.

He cursed under his breath.

You caught the way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers twitched at his sides before he climbed onto the bed after you, settling between your legs. His eyes darted down, locked onto the wetness pooling between your thighs, and his nostrils flared.

“All this from just a few sweet words, huh?” His voice was lower now, edged with something amused but dark, something he hadn’t meant to let slip through.

He shifted forward, but you stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, suddenly shy. “It’s said that women are more likely to get pregnant if, um… if they orgasm during or… or before, I think.”

Joel stilled for half a second before a slow smirk pulled at his lips. “You doubt me so much?”

The teasing edge in his voice—the cockiness—made some of the tension in your chest loosen. You let out a breathless laugh, your body unwinding slightly from the tension earlier. “I just… I’ve never…”

Something shifted in his face. The smirk faltered just a little. “You’re sayin’ my baby brother doesn’t take care of his own wife?”

“No!” you said quickly, your hand flexing against his chest defensively. “He does, it’s just… I can’t finish just from penetration. Most women can’t, actually.”

“I know, darlin’.”

You gasped as the thick head of his cock suddenly swiped through your slick arousal, and he hissed, pressing his other hand into the pillow beside your head as he leaned over you.

“Fuck—”

His voice was rough, gravelly, wrecked, and something about it made your thighs squeeze around his waist, made the heat coil even tighter in your belly.

Joel lingered there, his cock sliding through your slick, slow and deliberate, teasing against your swollen clit with every pass. The thick head caught at your entrance, nudging just slightly, and a gasp broke from your lips before you could swallow it down.

His jaw ticked, fingers flexing in the pillow beside your head, his body wound tight like a spring.

“This okay?” he asked, voice rough, strained.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yes.”

He pressed forward, just an inch, just enough for you to feel the blunt stretch of him, and your breath hitched.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “So damn wet.”

Heat flooded your face, but you couldn’t think—couldn’t focus on anything other than how thick he was, how different he was from Tommy. You felt like you were being split in two, but you wanted more. Every inch only made that need, that hunger, grow.

His hand lifted from his cock, skimming over your hip before settling on your thigh, holding you open.

“Gotta take it slow,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the sheets beside you. “I can take it.”

His head dropped for a second, a quiet curse slipping past his lips. “Don’t say shit like that, sweetheart.”

Something about that word, the way it left his mouth—low and full of something dangerous—made your stomach clench.

The stretch was slow, unbearable in the best way as he pushed forward even more, your body giving inch by inch, and you let out a sharp exhale as he filled you.

Joel groaned, deep and low, his fingers tightening on your thigh as he finally buried himself to the hilt.

Jesus Christ.

The weight of him inside you, the way he fit—it was overwhelming, taking up every inch of space, leaving you panting beneath him.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his hips flush with yours now, his jaw tight. “You’re—shit, you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight.”

Your thighs trembled around his waist, your body working to adjust to the fullness, to the sheer size of him, and then—oh god—then he moved.

A slow pull out, a deep thrust back in.

You moaned, head falling back against the pillows, fingers flexing against the sheets.

Joel’s breath was ragged, his grip tightening. “That’s it.”

As he began to set a steady pace, a deep thrust in, a gentle pull out, the tingling sensation you knew all too well was rising fast—too fast. It climbed up your spine, coiling tight, and your breath hitched in your throat. The sensation was familiar, so familiar, but not like this. Not from this.

Joel moved with deep, deliberate thrusts, each one stretching you full, dragging against every oversensitive nerve inside you with agonizing precision. His cock was thick, heavy, unrelenting—pressing deep, pressing right, pleasure licking up your spine like fire.

His hand moved between you, thumb finding your clit with ease, the calloused pad brushing over the swollen bundle of nerves, a touch just firm enough to make you jolt. Your whole body reacted, thighs trembling, an involuntary gasp ripping from your lips.

His breath hitched as he felt it too, and he let out a dark, pleased hum.

“Feel that?” he murmured, his voice a slow, deliberate drag against your skin. His thumb moved again, slick and sure, working tight little circles against you. “Now, what was it you said again?”

Your chest heaved, your fingers gripping at the sheets, at him, anything to keep yourself tethered, because the pleasure was coming in hot, hard waves now—building, climbing, making your skin flush and prickle with heat.

“I—I never—” You gasped, voice breaking, lips parting as your back arched into the feeling, as you felt your muscles tighten and clench under him.

Joel leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “C’mon, sweet girl. Use your words.”

Your hips met every thrust, dragging a moan from deep in your chest.

“I’ve never—ah!—never come like this before,” you choked out, breathless and desperate.

Joel swore under his breath.

“You’re tellin’ me,” he rasped, voice dripping in absolute filth and sin, “my pissy little brother never made you come on his cock before?”

The shame of it—the filthy, shameless truth of it—slammed into you just as hard as the pleasure. Your breath came in short, stilted gasps, your thighs twitching, heat curling low and tight, twisting like a wire pulled too taut. You gripped his biceps hard where they caged you in, your nails digging into his skin.

“I–”

“Never felt the way you’re squeezin’ the life outta me right now, baby?” His voice dipped lower, rougher, as his thumb pressed, rubbing slow and tight. “Never had you like this? Drippin’ and desperate? Makin’ the prettiest fuckin’ sounds I’ve ever heard?”

Heat flared in your belly, your legs shaking around him, pleasure tearing through you.

Joel felt it, the way you clenched down around him, and he grinned, breath hot against your mouth as he groaned through his teeth.

“Fuck—that’s it. Let me feel you.”

And you did.

Your body suddenly snapped. The orgasm slammed into you, white-hot and merciless, every nerve in your body firing at once, blinding you with pleasure so intense it was nearly unbearable. Your breath punched from your lungs as your back arched clean off the bed, thighs trembling, a cry tearing from your lips as waves of heat crashed through you.

Joel swore under his breath, hips stuttering as you clenched tight around him, and his mouth hovered just above yours, his breath mixing with yours, the air between you thick and electric.

He felt the way your body fluttered around him, still pulsing with the comedown of your orgasm, dragging him deeper, tighter—trapping him. His breath was heavy, coming in sharp, ragged exhales as he dropped his head, his forehead resting against yours.

His hips kept moving quick and uneven, dragging his cock in and out of your still-clenching walls. He was throbbing, thick and hot inside you, every roll of his hips sending sharp little sparks of overstimulation through your system.

That was when, after coming back to earth, you saw the way his lips parted slightly, his breath hitching whenever you squeezed around him just right. The tension in his face, the way his muscles coiled and flexed with every deliberate movement.

He was close.

You wondered…

Your breath was still shaky, voice unsteady, but you let it slip out, slow and sultry, testing the waters, “You feel so good,” you whispered.

Joel froze for a split second, a sharp breath punching from his lungs as he reeled his head back to look down at you.

"Does it feel good for you?” you whispered, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. “Filling me up? Making me feel so full? So good?”

Joel let out a ragged, wrecked sound, his fingers digging into your skin, gripping you like a lifeline.

And in that moment—fuck the rules.

Because this was anything but clinical now.

You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, letting your breath fan against his ear as you whispered, gentle, teasing.

“You gonna give me a baby, Joel?”

Joel let out a wrecked groan, his grip on your hips tightening, his pace faltering. His thrusts turned rougher, sharper, his body moving on pure instinct now—chasing it.

And then he snapped.

A strangled moan ripped from his throat as he slammed deep, burying himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside you as heat flooded you. His whole body shook, a ragged, guttural sound tearing from his chest as he came, thick and hot, spilling deep, his fingers flexing against your hips like he was trying to ground himself.

You gasped at the feeling, at the warmth spreading inside you, at the way his body shook above you.

Joel was panting, forehead pressed to yours, sweat damp at his hairline, his breath fanning against your lips, warm and unsteady.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Joel was still inside you, still filling you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, grounding you. His breath was heavy, warm against your cheek as he turned his head, his chest rising and falling against yours in slow, uneven waves.

“I should, uh…” His voice was hoarse, thick with something he wasn’t naming. He swallowed, clearing his throat as he sat up. “I should probably—”

You shifted slightly beneath him, still sensitive, still pulsing with the warmth of him inside you. Your thighs trembled, the ache delicious, spreading through you like slow heat.

“You can go,” you murmured, voice soft, a little sleepy. “I’m gonna stay here for a while.”

He hesitated as he looked down at you, your bodies still connected. 

You blinked up at him, lips curving in a lazy, satisfied smile.

“It’s said that if a woman stays lying down after, it increases the chances of conception.” You hummed, stretching slightly, body still warm and loose. “Just want to give it time to stick.”

You felt him twitch inside you, like his body had just caught up to the meaning of your words, and then he was pulling out, hissing under his breath as he eased away from you.

His heat vanished instantly, and a shiver ran through you at the sudden emptiness, the cool air replacing where he’d been pressed so solidly against you. You exhaled, tugging the covers up over yourself, shifting deeper into the mattress, letting your body sink into the afterglow.

Joel, on the other hand, was already moving, and fast.

He turned away from the bed, running a hand through his hair, reaching for his jeans like he needed them back on, needed the barrier, needed to be done with this.

“Hey,” you called softly as he stepped toward the door, one leg shoved into his pants.

He paused, turning slightly, just enough to look at you over his shoulder.

You blinked up at him sleepily, the blankets pulled up to your bare shoulders, your voice softer now. “You okay?”

Joel hesitated. Just for a second.

His hands hovered at his belt, his fingers twitching. His lips pressed together, like he was weighing his answer, like he didn’t trust whatever was sitting heavy on his tongue.

Then, he gave you a short, stiff nod. “Yeah. ‘M good.”

You hummed, unconvinced, watching the way his chest still rose and fell in uneven breaths, the lingering flush at his throat, the tension in his hands as he buckled his belt like he was fighting something.

“Okay,” you murmured, turning your head into the pillow, eyes half-lidded, “And, Joel?”

His gaze flickered back to you, hovering, like he was bracing himself.

You swallowed, shifting slightly under the blankets, warmth settling deep in your bones. “Thank you.”

Joel’s fingers twitched where they grabbed for his shirt, his throat working around something thick, something stuck. His eyes dragged over you one last time, heavy, unreadable, before he gave a single, curt nod.

“I’ll see you,” he muttered, voice rough, almost hesitant.

Then he turned, and with the sound of the door clicking shut behind him, he was gone.

[thedensworld]

Industry, Baby | k.mg

Pairing: police officer Mingyu! x actress reader!

Genre: bestfriends to lovers au!

Type: fluff, angst, humor(?)

Word count: 16k

Summary: Acting is about observation! And to be honest, your best friend does it best—your handsome cop best friend.

Boring patrol, boring night. It was a Saturday night, and the city was alive—just not for Mingyu. Every street was lined with couples walking hand in hand, whispering sweet nothings, or worse, making out in full public view like they were starring in some low-budget romance drama. Mingyu swore PDA had skyrocketed lately, and yet here he was, stuck in a patrol car with Chan, cruising aimlessly through the district like two third wheels in a world built for pairs.

In the noble name of peace and safety, Mingyu had sacrificed his Saturday night for this mind-numbing routine. No raging bar fights, no drunks passed out on the sidewalk, not even a stray cat causing chaos—just an uneventful drive through the city while couples flourished all around him.

He glanced at Chan, who was casually munching on chips, completely unbothered. “You ever think the real crime here is us being single on a Saturday night?” Mingyu muttered.

Chan crunched down on another chip and shrugged. “Speak for yourself. I have plans after this.”

Mingyu scoffed. “With who? The convenience store cashier?”

Chan smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Mingyu groaned, slumping further into his seat as their car rolled past yet another pair of lovebirds. Maybe he should’ve just taken the risk and faked food poisoning to get out of this shift.

"Isn't that girl from your video call last time your girlfriend? The rising actor… what’s her name again?" Chan asked casually, his tone laced with curiosity.

Mingyu shot him a quick glance before steadying the steering wheel with one hand. The car rolled smoothly down the quiet street, the flashing neon signs of late-night shops reflecting on the windshield. He remembered that night well—he’d been stuck on patrol with Chan when your name suddenly lit up his phone screen, buzzing with an unexpected video call. He hadn’t even thought twice before answering, only to realize too late that Chan had been peering over his shoulder the entire time.

"Oh? You knew her?" Mingyu asked, raising a brow. It wasn’t like anyone ever believed him when he said he had a celebrity friend.

Chan shrugged, popping another chip into his mouth like this was just another ordinary conversation. "I think I saw her picture at your place once."

Mingyu nodded, tapping his fingers against the wheel. "Yeah, you’re right. We’ve known each other since high school. She’s just a friend."

Chan hummed in response, but the knowing smirk on his face made Mingyu frown.

"Wait a second," Mingyu said, narrowing his eyes, realization dawning on him. "Why are we talking about me? You brought this up to dodge my question, didn’t you? Now spill—who’s the girl you’re meeting after shift?"

Chan smirked, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest like he held the world’s greatest secret.

Mingyu scoffed, shaking his head. "If she’s real, then prove it. Otherwise, I’m sticking with my theory that you’ve been secretly flirting with the convenience store cashier."

Chan only grinned, crunching down on another chip. "Believe what you want, man."

*

Mingyu slumped in his chair, drumming his fingers lazily against the desk as he watched the clock inch toward the end of his shift. The office was eerily quiet—just the faint buzz of the vending machine and the occasional shuffle of papers from the few unlucky souls still stuck here. He should’ve been doing something productive, but at this point, he was just killing time.

The second the clock hit shift change, Chan sprang to life. With a dramatic yawn and a stretch that seemed more for show than necessity, he grabbed his bag and disappeared into the changing room. When he emerged, Mingyu did a double take.

Grey hoodie. Black sweatpants. Flip-flops.

Mingyu blinked. Then he blinked again.

"What in the world—" He motioned vaguely at Chan’s outfit. "Are you dating a computer in a PC room?"

Chan scoffed, adjusting his hoodie like it was designer wear. "Whatever, man. Enjoy your loneliness."

Mingyu snorted. "I’ll enjoy it just fine knowing I don’t look like I got dressed in the dark."

Chan ignored him, waving lazily over his shoulder as he headed out the door. Mingyu shook his head, leaning back in his chair as he pulled out his phone. A notification popped up.

Ji Actress: what you do mingooooooooo

Mingyu smirked at the ridiculous spelling, already picturing the way you’d say it in a whiny voice just to annoy him. He typed back a simple Just finished shift, and before he could even lock his phone, it vibrated with an incoming call.

He answered, barely getting a greeting out before your voice burst through the speaker.

"Can I crash at your place? I'll bring food. Please, please, pleaaaaase…"

Mingyu rolled his eyes, though his lips curled into a smirk. "You’ll make my house dirty. And Bobpul hates you."

A dramatic groan came from the other end. "I won’t! I promise! And I hate her too, so that makes two of us!"

Mingyu chuckled, rubbing his face. "Alright, fine. Bring chicken and beer. I’ll get us enough soju for both of us."

A high-pitched squeal erupted from your end—so loud and unexpected that Mingyu had to pull the phone away unless he wanted to go deaf.

"Okay, bye! See you, handsome boy!"

Mingyu let out an amused breath, shaking his head. "Alright, take care," he said before hanging up.

He stared at his phone for a second, the exhaustion of his shift melting away. A late-night hangout with you and free food? Maybe this Saturday night wasn’t a total waste after all.

*

The doorbell rang once. Then twice. Then—

Ding-dong. Ding-ding-dong. Dong-ding-dong.

Mingyu groaned, already knowing it was you before he even got up. Who else would take a perfectly normal doorbell and turn it into a drum solo? If you kept it up, the security guard would be knocking soon, grumbling about noise complaints from the neighbors who, unlike you, actually valued a quiet Saturday night.

He practically ran to the door, yanking it open before you could press the bell again. "You'll wake the whole floor," he hushed, grabbing your wrist mid-motion.

You beamed at him, completely unfazed. "Doom for them. Should’ve had something better to do on a Saturday night."

Mingyu sighed, stepping aside to let you in. You strutted inside like you owned the place, dressed for ultimate comfort—an oversized hoodie, a big T-shirt peeking out from underneath, and bear-printed pajama pants. In your hands, plastic bags filled with food swung dangerously as you made your way straight to the couch, plopping down like you’d just finished a marathon.

Mingyu shut the door, turning to watch you spread out like you paid rent here. He crossed his arms, shaking his head in amusement. "As if you have anything better to do besides crashing my place."

You nodded solemnly, propping your feet up on the armrest. "Yes, you're right. Doom for us."

Mingyu chuckled, rubbing his face. "Unbelievable."

"Correction: predictable," you said, already reaching for the bags. "Now, where’s my soju? You promised enough for both of us."

Mingyu rolled his eyes but was already heading to the kitchen. Whatever peace and quiet he thought he’d get after his shift? Gone. But honestly… he didn’t mind.

"Where’s Bobpul?" You sat up from your spot on the couch, eyes scanning every corner of Mingyu’s apartment like you were on a mission.

Mingyu barely glanced up from unpacking the food. "Don’t bother her. She’s in my bedroom."

You grinned. "Oh? That sounds like an invitation."

"It’s not—"

Too late. You were already up, taking small, sneaky steps toward his bedroom like some kind of cartoon burglar. Mingyu sighed, shaking his head. Sometimes, he seriously wondered how someone like you managed to survive in the acting industry. How many headaches had you caused your filming team? How much patience did your co-stars have?

A moment later, the sound of you sweetly calling Bobpul’s name echoed from the room, followed by an unimpressed grunt from the dog. Mingyu didn’t even need to turn around to know exactly what was happening.

When you finally emerged, you had Bobpul in your arms, cradling her like a spoiled princess. The poor dog looked stressed—her tiny paws stiff, her eyes pleading for help—but at the same time, Mingyu could tell she secretly enjoyed the attention. She always acted like she hated you, but the way her tail twitched slightly told a different story. Bobpul was just playing hard to get. And the worst part? You were thriving on it.

"I got you a treat on the way here, Bobpul!" you chirped, reaching into your bag and pulling out a small snack. Bobpul’s eyes immediately lit up, her internal struggle between pride and greed crumbling in an instant.

You smirked, holding the treat just out of reach. "Just like your oppa, you can’t resist food, huh?"

Mingyu, now setting out the chicken and tteokbokki, snorted at the comparison. "Excuse me?"

You tossed Bobpul the treat, watching in satisfaction as she gobbled it up without hesitation. "See? The Kim family has no self-control when it comes to food."

Mingyu rolled his eyes but couldn’t argue. Instead, he popped open a can of soju, pouring some into a glass before sliding it across the table toward you. "Yeah, yeah. Now sit down and eat before I start charging you rent."

You plopped back onto the couch, Bobpul still in your arms, looking way too smug for someone who had just successfully bullied both dog and owner.

"Ahn and Seola are getting married," Mingyu announced, tossing an envelope onto the table like it was no big deal.

You were in the middle of reaching for a piece of chicken when his words hit you like a truck. Your hand froze mid-air, eyes widening in pure disbelief. "Wait—what?"

Mingyu, completely unfazed, leaned back and stretched his arms. "Yeah, they gave me this at our last meetup. Their wedding’s in two weeks." He nudged the invitation toward you.

You snatched it up, flipping it open as if expecting to see some kind of hidden Gotcha! message inside. "No way. No freaking way."

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, watching your reaction with amusement. "Why are you so shocked? I told you back in academy that they liked each other."

You scoffed, dramatically throwing yourself back onto the couch. "Then why did they spend every single day fighting like they were in some sort of K-drama rivalry? If they liked each other so much, they should’ve just kissed already and saved us the headache!"

Mingyu burst out laughing, shaking his head. "They were dumb high schoolers. And let’s be real, we have no idea what was going on behind the scenes." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

You groaned, shoving his shoulder. "Ew, gross. Do not make me think about that."

Mingyu smirked, dodging your shove. "I’m just saying, they had chemistry. Meanwhile, you were the only clueless one who didn’t see it." He pointed at you accusingly.

You gasped, holding a hand to your chest in mock offense. "Excuse me? Maybe I was just too busy focusing on important things—like, I don’t know, not failing math?"

Mingyu snorted. "Right. And yet you still failed the midterm."

You shot him a glare, but he just grinned, stuffing a piece of tteokbokki into his mouth.

With a dramatic sigh, you waved the invitation in the air. "Still, it’s crazy how they actually ended up together. Like, they were chaos."

Mingyu shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah, but I guess some people are just meant to be."

You hummed, staring at the names on the invitation. "Meant to be, huh?" You turned to him with a mischievous grin. "What about us, Mingyu? Are we meant to be?"

Mingyu nearly choked on his drink. "Yah!" He coughed, glaring at you while you burst into laughter.

"Relax, it’s just a question!" you teased, wiggling your eyebrows.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but a small smirk tugged at his lips as he passed you the soju. "Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and eat your chicken."

"How's your promotion? I saw your press conference," Mingyu said, casually reaching for another piece of chicken.

Your ears perked up immediately. "Really?" You leaned forward, eyes wide with that soft, almost innocent expression—one that might fool anyone else, but not Mingyu. He knew you way too well. That look? Pure concept. A calculated move to appear cute.

"Yeah," he said, unimpressed but amused. "The promotion period ended yesterday, right?"

You nodded, then hesitated for a second, as if debating whether to say something. Finally, you put your drink down and took a deep breath. "Mingyu… I haven’t told you this yet, but—I got the role."

Mingyu frowned mid-chew. "What role?"

"The role."

He blinked, brain lagging for a moment before it clicked. His eyes widened. "Wait—police officer?"

You nodded vigorously, and before Mingyu could react, you let out a scream of excitement. A full-on, top-of-your-lungs, might-get-us-kicked-out kind of scream.

"Yah!" Mingyu panicked, nearly dropping his chopsticks as he lunged forward to slap a hand over your mouth. "Are you trying to get me evicted?!"

You wiggled under his grip, eyes still sparkling with joy as you pried his hand off. "But, Mingyu! I finally did it! You know how bad I wanted this!"

He sighed, shaking his head with a small laugh. "Yeah, yeah. Since forever, right?"

"Since I failed the police academy test," you corrected, dramatically clutching your chest like you were reminiscing about a tragic past life. "I really thought my dream of wearing a uniform was over."

Mingyu rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. "Y/n, you weren’t even good at math. What did you expect?"

You gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "I could’ve improved!"

"You failed the entrance test twice," he deadpanned.

"Okay, but the third time—"

"Didn’t even happen because you gave up."

You groaned, throwing yourself back against the couch. "Alright, alright! We get it, I suck at math. But now, look at me! I finally get to be a police officer… in a drama."

Mingyu chuckled, raising his can of beer. "Well, here’s to achieving your dreams, even if it’s just pretend."

You clinked your can against his, grinning. "Cheers to acting like a responsible adult."

He smirked, taking a sip. "Something you still struggle with in real life."

"Yah! You’re ruining the moment!" you whined, kicking his leg lightly.

Mingyu just laughed, stealing a piece of tteokbokki off your plate while you were distracted. "I’m just saying, let’s be honest—you as a cop? Terrifying. The world isn't ready for you with actual authority."

You squinted at him suspiciously. "What’s that supposed to mean? I can make the better world."

*

Next morning, Mingyu stepped into his bedroom, already dressed for work, adjusting his watch as he approached the bed. The sight of you and Bobpul sprawled across his sheets, tangled in the blankets like some kind of burrito, made him shake his head with amusement.

He reached down and gave your shoulder a firm shake. “Hey, I’m heading out. Clean up before you leave, alright?”

You let out a groggy whine, stirring slightly but refusing to fully wake up. Your eyes barely cracked open as you mumbled, “It’s Sunday… why are you working? You don’t even have a wife and kids to support.”

Mingyu let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I do have a broke celebrity friend who couldn’t even pay for extra alcohol last night because all her money is with her manager.”

That earned him a pillow straight to the face.

“You suck,” you muttered, voice muffled against the blanket.

Mingyu chuckled, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I made you breakfast—it’s on the table. Eat before you leave.”

You peeked out from under the blanket just enough to glare at him. “Look at you. So responsible. You sure you don’t secretly have a wife and kids?”

Mingyu smirked, leaning down to pinch your cheek. “Nope, just a very high-maintenance celebrity friend.”

“Kim Mingyu!” you yelped, swatting his hand away.

Laughing, he ruffled your hair for good measure before grabbing his keys. “Alright, see you later, Ms. Officer.”

You groaned dramatically, rolling over and burying your face into his pillow. “Bye, my colleague.”

Mingyu shook his head as he stepped out, knowing full well that you were probably going to sleep in for at least another two hours before even thinking about cleaning up.

Mingyu drove to home once his shift finished. He stepped inside his house, tired from his shift, only to pause at the sight before him. You were sitting at his dining table, hunched over a thick academy textbook, flipping between its pages and your tablet, a pen tucked behind your ear. It wasn’t a very you sight—studying was never something you did voluntarily—but Mingyu knew that when it came to acting, you always took your roles seriously.

Bobpul, who had been silently watching you from her spot on the counter, immediately perked up at Mingyu’s arrival, barking and wagging her tail excitedly.

“You’re still here,” Mingyu said, raising an eyebrow as he set down his things.

You finally looked up from your book, nodding before gesturing vaguely around the apartment. “And I cleaned the house.”

Mingyu glanced around, scanning every corner while cradling Bobpul in his arms. He gave you an approving nod. “Wow. Good job, Y/n. You actually can clean.”

You rolled your eyes but smirked at his teasing.

Mingyu sat down beside you, peering at the chaotic mess of notes scattered across the table. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher your scribbles. “What’s all this?”

“Studying a murder case,” you said, tapping the script with your pen. “I’m playing Jung Inha, a rookie officer who finds a dead body behind the police station. Turns out it’s a dead body of the serial killer.”

Mingyu snorted, flipping through the pages of your script. “So unrealistic. Every station has CCTV in every corner, and there’s always someone monitoring them. No one’s just dumping bodies behind a station and getting away with it.”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “I know, but should I tell that to the director and risk losing my precious role?”

Mingyu didn’t even hesitate. “No, don’t say that.” He shook his head firmly before flipping to another page of your script, scanning the dialogue.

You grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

You watched as Mingyu flipped through your script, his brows occasionally furrowing at the way police work was portrayed. He looked so serious, like he was mentally critiquing every single unrealistic procedure.

That’s when an idea struck you.

“You know,” you started, leaning forward with a sly smile. “You should totally do a cameo.”

Mingyu’s eyes flicked up to you, suspicious. “A cameo?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah! A real-life, handsome police officer appearing in a crime drama? The audience would eat it up. You’d gain, like, a hundred thousand Instagram followers overnight.”

Mingyu scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t need Instagram clout.”

“Come on, it’d be perfect,” you insisted, nudging his arm. “You’re tall, intimidating when you want to be, and—most importantly—you actually know what you're doing. Unlike half the actors pretending to be cops.”

Mingyu smirked. “Are you saying you don’t know what you’re doing?”

You pouted. “That’s why I’m studying! But it wouldn’t hurt to have a pro like you show up on set. Maybe intimidate the fake officers with your real-life knowledge.”

Mingyu laughed, shaking his head. “What would I even do? Stand in the background looking cool?”

You gasped dramatically. “Exactly! That’s the job! You don’t even have to act—just exist.”

Mingyu sighed, setting your script down with a dramatic thud. “If I’m going to do this, you better not make me regret it.”

You grinned. “Of course not! But if you’re gonna be on set, you might as well help me train properly.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “Train?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah—teach me how to act like a real officer. How to hold a gun properly, how to chase a suspect without looking like I’m in a rom-com, stuff like that.”

Mingyu smirked. “You mean you don’t already know? What happened to all your ‘serious studying’?”

You pouted. “I can only learn so much from books! I need practical training, and who better to teach me than my very own cop bestie?”

He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a knowing look. “You know, if I didn’t quit acting, I could’ve been the one taking this role.”

You blinked. “Oh? Now you admit it?”

Mingyu shrugged. “I mean, I was pretty decent at it. Jaehyun and I were killing it at the academy before I left for the police route.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And yet, here you are, getting scouted for a cameo in my drama.”

Mingyu chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Life is funny like that.” He tapped the script. “But you? You stuck with it, and now you’re actually living the dream.”

You softened at his words. “It was your dream too, you know.”

Mingyu gave you a small, lopsided smile before reaching over to flick your forehead. “Maybe in another life. Right now, I’ll just settle for making sure you don’t embarrass real officers on TV.”

“But imagine all the thirsty comments you’ll get. ‘Who’s the hot officer in the background?’ ‘Is he single?’ ‘He can arrest me anytime.’”

Mingyu groaned, rubbing his temples. “You’re insufferable.”

“But you love me,” you said sweetly, batting your lashes.

He sighed, looking at you with fake exasperation before ruffling your hair. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

You squealed in victory, causing Bobpul to bark in alarm. Mingyu shook his head with a chuckle, already regretting letting you put ideas in his head.

*

Mingyu had been tailing you from the moment the two of you arrived on set. With his broad shoulders, long legs, and towering presence, he walked behind you like an oversized lost puppy as you introduced him to the filming team—the director and the assistant director.

The director eyed Mingyu with curiosity before chuckling. “Your friend is handsome. Is he actually a cop or a model?”

You glanced at Mingyu, only to find his ears turning pink. A shy but polite smile graced his face as he bowed slightly in response to the compliment. That was the thing about Mingyu—he was effortlessly good at receiving praise, never letting it get to his head, but always gracious enough that people just wanted to keep complimenting him.

“Right?” You grinned, fully agreeing with the director’s words. “He gets that a lot.”

Mingyu cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed, but you continued, enjoying his reaction. “We actually used to go to the same acting academy, with Jung Jaehyun too.”

At the mention of Jaehyun, Mingyu’s head tilted slightly, his eyes flicking to you. There was nothing odd in the way you said it, but something about hearing his name from your mouth after such a long time felt… different. Not just that guy or your friend, but Jung Jaehyun. It felt like some kind of unspoken progress had been made, like all his efforts to maintain the friendship over the years hadn’t been for nothing.

The director’s eyebrows lifted with interest. “Oh? So you have an acting background too?”

Mingyu scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Ah, well… I trained for a bit, but I didn’t continue with it.”

The assistant director chuckled. “Still, once an actor, always an actor. Let’s see how you do later. If there’s room for an extended scene, we’ll talk about it, okay?”

Mingyu blinked. “Wait, what?”

You patted his arm with a mischievous smile. “Congratulations, Officer Kim. You might just get a bigger role than you signed up for.”

Mingyu groaned, already regretting letting you drag him into this. But when he caught the director giving him an intrigued look, he suddenly wondered—was he actually about to make an unexpected return to acting?

*

Mingyu was glad he had the day off today—though he hadn’t expected to spend it like this. The director, practically glowing with excitement, had pleaded with him to accept an additional role written just for him. With the entire crew looking at him expectantly and you standing across the set flashing him a thumbs-up while getting your makeup fixed, he found himself unable to say no.

One day of shooting. That’s all it would take. He could handle that… right?

Before he could fully process his fate, another actor approached the director, who immediately introduced him. “This is our male lead, Park Yaehan. And this is Kim Mingyu—he’s a cameo, but also a great actor.”

The weight on Mingyu’s shoulders grew heavier. Great actor? That was an exaggeration. His acting career had lasted about as long as a summer fling before he had walked away from it completely.

“Hello, I’m Park Yaehan.” The man offered a friendly handshake. “Are you with Ji Y/n? I saw the two of you together earlier.”

Mingyu firmly shook his hand, nodding. “We’re friends.”

The director beamed, adding enthusiastically, “Kim Mingyu is a real police officer! He’s from the Gangnam district.”

Yaehan looked amused by the information, but Mingyu could tell immediately—he wasn’t really interested in any of it. His polite smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, Mingyu noticed the way Yaehan’s gaze drifted past him, toward you. You were across the set, laughing with the makeup artist, completely unaware of the conversation happening.

Mingyu’s jaw tensed slightly.

He had been in the force long enough to know how to read people. And right now, it was painfully obvious that Park Yaehan was more interested in you than anything else.

The car ride was quiet at first, just the soft hum of the engine and the distant sound of your manager placing a coffee order outside. You scrolled through your phone absentmindedly until Mingyu, who had been unusually silent since leaving the set, suddenly spoke up.

“So… Park Yaehan,” he started, his tone casual—too casual.

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “What about him?”

“What’s his role in the movie?”

“He’s the male lead.”

Mingyu nodded, as if considering something. Then, after a beat, he asked, “Is there any romantic line?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Like… are you going to kiss?” He kept his eyes on the road, his voice carefully neutral.

Your brows furrowed. “Why do you sound like a detective interrogating a suspect?”

“Just curious,” he shrugged. “So there won’t be any romance between your role?”

You stared at him, confused by his sudden interest in the script details. “No, my character is too busy solving crimes to fall in love,” you answered, then waved your hand dismissively. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Mingyu said a little too quickly.

You narrowed your eyes at him but decided to let it go. Instead, you leaned back in your seat and gave him a playful smirk. “You know, I was actually impressed with your acting today. It’s like you never left the academy. Your expressions, your delivery—it was all so natural. Maybe you should consider making a comeback.”

Mingyu scoffed. “Okay, now I know the director told you to say that.”

You giggled, not even trying to deny it. “Maybe.”

Mingyu groaned, shaking his head. “I knew it. I knew something was up.”

“But you were good,” you insisted, nudging his arm. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it a little.”

He sighed, resting one hand on the steering wheel while rubbing his temple with the other. “This is why I never should’ve agreed to this. Now I have both you and the director scheming against me.”

You grinned. “Welcome back to the industry, Officer Kim.”

The neon sign of the chicken shop flickered against the night sky as your manager pulled into the parking lot. The sight of it made Mingyu’s chest tighten with nostalgia. The three of you had spent so many nights here—eating way too much fried chicken, debating acting techniques, and mapping out futures that, at the time, seemed so certain.

Now, Jaehyun was a rising actor. You were an established actress. And he… well, he had taken a different path.

As the two of you stepped inside, the familiar scent of crispy chicken and spice filled the air. The place hadn’t changed much—same wooden tables, same greasy menus, same ahjumma at the counter who used to tease you three for staying too late, insisting you’d end up marrying each other if you didn’t stop hanging out so much.

“Ah! It’s been a long time!” she beamed upon seeing you. “You two still sticking together?”

You laughed, nudging Mingyu playfully. “Yeah, but now he’s a real-life police officer, not just pretending to be one.”

The old woman gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “Aigoo, really? I should be careful around you now, huh?”

Mingyu smiled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I don’t arrest people for eating too much chicken.”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she took your order before leaving you alone at your usual corner booth. Mingyu settled into the seat across from you, glancing around at the familiar space. It felt like stepping back in time, except everything had a slightly faded quality, like an old photograph.

As you scrolled through your phone, Mingyu hesitated before finally asking, “Have you kept in touch with Jaehyun?”

You looked up, a bit surprised by the question. “Not really,” you admitted, tapping idly against the table. “Just a few nods whenever we run into each other… but he’s always busy filming.”

Mingyu nodded, pressing his lips together. He had been meaning to reach out, but time passed too quickly. Before he knew it, years had gone by. Would Jaehyun even pick up his call?

Noticing his hesitation, you leaned forward with a teasing smirk. “Why? Miss him?”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “I just… I don’t know. It’s been a while. And now, standing in front of a camera again, even just for a cameo, it made me think about everything. About how things could’ve been different.”

You studied him for a moment before your expression softened. “You were really good, you know? Even today, you looked so natural. It’s like you never stopped.”

Mingyu scoffed, leaning back against the seat. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m serious!” you insisted. “Maybe you should consider giving it another shot. Even if it’s just for fun.”

He shook his head, but the thought lingered.

Before he could respond, your phone buzzed with a message. You checked it, and a small chuckle escaped your lips.

“Speak of the devil. Jaehyun just texted.”

Mingyu raised a brow. “Yeah?”

You tilted the screen toward him.

Jaehyun: I heard from the director that a certain police officer was on set today. Are you two together right now?

Mingyu exhaled through his nose, a small smirk playing on his lips. Maybe it really was time to make that call.

But just as he was about to say something, he caught the way your expression flickered—just for a second. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitation settling into your features before you quickly typed a reply. It was subtle, but Mingyu had known you too long to miss it.

“You two okay?” he asked, voice laced with curiosity.

You blinked, as if thrown off by the question. “What? Yeah, of course.”

Mingyu narrowed his eyes slightly. “Did something happen?”

You let out a short breath, setting your phone down. “It’s nothing serious. Just… we don’t talk as much anymore.”

That wasn’t a real answer, and you both knew it.

Mingyu tilted his head. “Not talking and actively avoiding someone are two different things.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Since when did you become a detective?”

He smirked. “Since you started looking at his name like it personally offended you.”

You sighed, fingers tracing patterns on the wooden table. “It’s just—he and I don’t see eye to eye on some things. And I guess we never really fixed it.”

Mingyu frowned slightly. You and Jaehyun had always been in sync, always had each other’s backs. For something to put a real wedge between you meant it wasn’t just some small disagreement.

Before he could press further, your phone buzzed again.

Jaehyun: Call me later?

Mingyu watched as you stared at the message for a moment, then locked your phone without responding.

“Are you going to call him?” he asked.

You let out a slow breath, a ghost of a smile on your lips. “I don’t know.”

*

It was another week, and somehow, Mingyu found himself back on a filming set for the second time in a month. What an achievement.

When he asked Chan to cover his shift today, the younger guy had given him the look—the one that clearly screamed, “Mingyu hyung has a date.”

If only.

No, Mingyu had a shoot. And he wished he could’ve just said that instead of muttering, “My friend is moving out, so I’m helping.”

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic, Kim Mingyu. At this rate, even his excuses were starting to sound like bad drama scripts.

As he adjusted his outfit and took a sip of his coffee, he glanced at the call sheet. The next scene would be with you. And, to his utter delight, Park Yaehan.

Mingyu had almost forgotten about that guy—until today.

Something about him just seemed… off. Like the kind of guy who’d order a burger with no patty and call it a bold choice. Did anyone else notice? Or was Mingyu the only one with a built-in radar for detecting suspiciously annoying people.

But what really boiled his blood was the way Yaehan acted around you.

The guy looked like an uncircumcised sheep meeting a female sheep for the first time. It was ridiculous. His excitement was almost cartoonish—all wide eyes, eager nods, and way-too-excited hand gestures. Was he about to confess his undying love or ask you to join his cult?

The way his lips moved, murmuring something under his breath while his eyes stayed fixed on you, made Mingyu’s fingers twitch. He swore he could land a clean punch. Just one. A tiny one. A warning punch.

Did you notice? Surely, you noticed.

But then again…

A thought struck him, one that gave him equal parts hope and frustration.

You’re an insensitive person.

For once, just this time, please stay that way.

Because while you remained oblivious, Mingyu would handle this for you.

"So, you and Y/n have been friends for a long time? I heard since acting academy?"

Mingyu nodded, shifting in his seat as he waited with Yaehan on set while the director spoke to you. The next scene was simple—yet nerve-wracking.

It wasn’t like this would be his first time seeing you almost naked. Back in the academy, he had seen you nude before during one of those “artistic expression” workshops. He had handled it then, and he could handle it now.

Or so he thought.

Because the real problem here wasn’t you. It was Yaehan.

Mingyu had almost forgotten about this guy until today, and honestly, he wished he could go back to that blissful ignorance. Something about Yaehan just rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was the way he laughed a little too hard at his own jokes. Maybe it was the fact that his hair was suspiciously perfect, even under studio lighting. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the way he kept buzzing around you like an overeager puppy seeing a female dog for the first time.

“It’s been almost ten years, I guess,” Mingyu finally answered, keeping his tone casual. “She’s like family. I treasure her a lot.”

And I hope you watch yourself, Park Yaehan.

Which, of course, he kept to himself.

Across the set, you were practicing lifting your tank top under the director’s guidance, adjusting the speed and movement to make it look natural. Mingyu noticed—because of course he did—that you must’ve been hitting the gym more often lately. Your body looked toned, your movements fluid.

Then, right on cue, Yaehan spoke.

“Looking good, Y/n!”

Mingyu exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to ignore the way Yaehan was visibly vibrating with excitement.

Then came the final straw.

Low. Murmured. Almost imperceptible.

“Her body... delicious.”

Mingyu blinked.

Excuse me?

His head turned so fast he nearly pulled a muscle. He stared at Yaehan, expression unreadable, but internally, his brain was short-circuiting.

This man had three seconds to take that back before Mingyu made sure he needed a dental appointment.

*

The filming had wrapped days ago, and everyone insisted that Mingyu come to the wrap party. He had tried to get out of it—he really had—but somehow, he found himself here, surrounded by laughter, drinks, and overly enthusiastic co-stars.

You sat beside him, clapping with excitement as the director took the mic. Mingyu was half-listening, nursing his drink, when the next words hit him like a freight train.

“…And I’m happy to announce that Mingyu will appear in my next movie! Not as a cameo, not as an extra, but as a sub-lead!”

The room erupted in cheers.

Mingyu, meanwhile, nearly choked on his drink.

Wait. What?

He wasn’t informed about that.

He had a life. A job. A routine. And acting? Well, that was very different from them. He liked his stable life, his predictable schedule. The most dramatic thing in his daily existence was deciding whether to order fried chicken or ramen after work.

He knew the director had been hinting at something. He had mentioned finding the right actor for a specific role, had even talked about it with a knowing glint in his eye. But Mingyu didn’t expect the “right actor” to be him.

And why were you enjoying this so much? Why were you clapping like you just won the lottery?

Mingyu turned to glare at you, but you only grinned, elbowing him. “Looks like you’re back in the industry, Officer Kim.”

Before he could argue, the director continued, “And also, the other actor for the second lead will be joining us tonight, so make sure the two of you get to know each other. Chemistry is everything!”

Mingyu exhaled slowly.

First, he gets cast in a movie without his knowledge.

Now, he has to socialize.

He really should’ve just stayed home.

As the party buzzed on inside, you pulled Mingyu by the wrist, leading him out onto the quiet balcony. The cool night air brushed against your skin, a welcome contrast to the heat and noise of the celebration.

"You okay?" you asked, leaning against the railing.

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know. This all feels... sudden." He paused, staring out at the city lights. "It’s not that I hate it. I just—" He hesitated, pressing his lips together.

"You just what?"

He exhaled sharply. "I don’t know if this is what I really want anymore."

You frowned. "Mingyu, this was your dream."

"Was it, though?" His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "I mean, yeah, back then, I wanted this more than anything. But now... I have a different life. A stable one. And suddenly, I’m just supposed to throw myself back into this world?"

You studied him for a moment before speaking. "Dreams don’t just disappear, Mingyu. They get buried, maybe, or they change shape. But they don’t vanish."

He sighed again, shaking his head. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is," you said, nudging his arm. "You just have to decide if you’re scared of failing again or if you’re scared of actually succeeding."

Mingyu let out a dry chuckle. "Why do you always do this?"

"Do what?"

"Say things that make me think."

You smirked. "It’s a gift."

Before he could respond, a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

"Well, well. Never thought I’d see the two of you having a heart-to-heart out here."

Mingyu turned, his expression shifting instantly as Jaehyun stepped onto the balcony, hands in his pockets, a smirk playing on his lips.

Of all people. Of all times.

Jaehyun’s gaze flickered between you and Mingyu before settling on the latter. "Heard you’re joining the industry. Guess old habits die hard, huh?"

Jaehyun’s smirk lingered as he leaned casually against the railing, the city lights casting a soft glow on his face. Mingyu, ever the friendly one, bumped fists with him in greeting, but you? You just folded your arms and leaned back slightly, eyeing him with the same cautious distance one might have for a cat that scratched them one too many times.

Mingyu, ever oblivious, chuckled. “Man, it’s been a while. Didn’t think I’d be sharing a screen with you.”

Jaehyun grinned. “Yeah, guess fate has a funny way of bringing people back together.”

Your lips twitched into a tight-lipped smile, though the amusement never reached your eyes. “Fate’s got an interesting sense of humor.”

Mingyu noticed the shift in your tone and glanced between the two of you, sensing something he hadn’t before. Jaehyun, for his part, looked completely unbothered. If anything, he seemed to enjoy whatever unspoken thing was happening between you.

“You two good?” Mingyu asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jaehyun let out a light chuckle. “I don’t know. Are we, Y/n?”

You tilted your head, giving him that unreadable look that made men twice as confident as Jaehyun squirm. “I guess that depends,” you said slowly. “Are we being honest these days?”

Mingyu frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jaehyun’s smile didn’t falter, but something in his gaze sharpened ever so slightly. “Nothing serious. Just an old misunderstanding, right, Y/n?”

You let out a quiet hum, as if debating whether or not you agreed. Mingyu knew you well enough to recognize the way your jaw tightened—there was something there, something you knew that Jaehyun was hoping you’d keep quiet about.

But you didn’t elaborate. And neither did he.

Mingyu, caught in the middle, let out a short laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on? Did Y/n steal your lunch money or something?”

Jaehyun chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. If anything, she’s the one keeping the score.”

Your eyes met his, and for a second, the playful air between you both felt like a carefully crafted act, one that only the two of you understood.

Mingyu sighed, rubbing his temples. “Great. So I get thrown back into acting, and now I have to deal with this weird rivalry too?”

Jaehyun patted his shoulder. “Welcome back to the industry, buddy. It’s never just about the acting.”

*

You saw it with your own eyes. You heard it with your own ears. Jaehyun’s voice echoed in the empty practice room that night, sharp and certain, as he reported everything to the acting coach.

It had been an accident—you had only come back to grab your bag, the one you had stupidly left behind after practice. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But how could you walk away when you heard your name? When you heard Mingyu’s name?

It was the night you found out Mingyu had been chosen for a debut project. A real opportunity. One that meant he wouldn’t have to pay tuition to stay in the academy. It should’ve been a moment of celebration, a victory for him—for both of you.

But then you heard Jaehyun’s next words.

“Mingyu can’t take it. He’s being forced to stay in the police academy. His family won’t let him act.”

Your stomach dropped. Mingyu never told you that.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, Jaehyun’s voice lowered slightly. “How about Y/n? Can she fill the slot for the female role?”

A beat of silence. Then, the coach’s hesitant response.

“She’s good, but…”

“She needs more practice,” Jaehyun finished smoothly, his voice carrying an air of certainty that left no room for argument.

Your breath hitched.

Of course. Because you needed more practice, right? What a revelation. Apparently, everyone else was born with an innate, flawless acting ability. You, on the other hand, just weren’t quite there yet. But no worries—Jaehyun was a professional, after all. He clearly knew best.

You weren’t good enough?

No. No, this wasn’t just about skill, was it? He knew how much this meant to you. He knew how much it meant to Mingyu. And yet, the next thing you knew, Jaehyun was the one landing his debut project in a drama—your opportunity, Mingyu’s opportunity—snatched away in an instant.

Well, of course. He was clearly the only one who deserved it, right?

The betrayal hit like a punch to the gut. But no worries, Y/n, you just needed more practice. You weren’t bitter, just... improving.

You skipped practice for a week after that. Not because you were sick. Not because you were busy. But because you couldn’t stand to see his face.

And when you finally returned, Jaehyun was already moving on to bigger things, smiling as people congratulated him on his debut.

Like nothing had ever happened. How charming.

"You dated him?"

You turned your head to Mingyu, who was sprawled on your couch, lazily watching the same boring TV show he always put on whenever he wasn’t on shift. You, on the other hand, were staring blankly at the screen, barely paying attention—until his question caught you completely off guard.

"Who? Him?" You pointed at the screen just as Seo Kangjoon’s face appeared, his striking brown eyes practically glowing under the soft lighting of the drama.

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "Not him. Jaehyun."

You immediately sat up, feeling inexplicably offended by the accusation. "Excuse me?"

Mingyu, ever the observant one, caught your reaction right away and let out a laugh. "Why so offended? I was just asking."

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. "What makes you think that?"

He shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. "The way you act around him is weird. And also, you’ve been very clear about disliking him all of a sudden. Which, by the way, is new."

"I told you, I don’t dislike him," you huffed. "We just drifted apart. He got busy with police academy and acting. I got busy improving myself. And you—" you shot him a pointed look, "were too busy trying to be… I don’t know. A good person or whatever. Why do we even have to talk about him?"

Mingyu smirked. "So you never dated him behind my back?"

You sighed, exasperated. "Mingyu, for the last time, I don’t date anyone. I’m too busy for that. Unlike some people—" you shot him a knowing glance, "who somehow always find time to meet a pretty girl and take her on a date."

Mingyu’s brows furrowed, looking personally offended. "Hey—I don’t ‘always’ date!"

You snorted. "Oh, sure. Just occasionally. Like, I don’t know, every other month?"

"That is so inaccurate," he scoffed, crossing his arms. "And honestly? Hurtful."

You smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Officer Kim."

Mingyu scoffed at your remark, shaking his head. “You know, I actually sleep way better when you’re around.”

You turned to him, arching a brow. “Oh yeah?"

“Yeah.” He stretched his arms over his head, his smirk lazy and teasing. “Something about your presence just knocks me right out. Like, instant peace. Probably ‘cause you’re so boring—”

"Or," you cut in smoothly, tilting your head slightly, "it’s because you like having me around."

Mingyu froze for a split second, his smirk twitching—just barely—but enough for you to notice. His body stiffened ever so slightly, as if his brain was trying to process what you had just said.

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your palm, watching him with quiet amusement. "I mean, it would make sense," you mused, voice light yet edged with something deeper. "You always find excuses to hang out. You like teasing me, but the moment I’m not around, you get all sulky. And now you’re saying you sleep better when I’m with you?" You tilted your head, studying his expression. "Sounds like attachment issues to me, Officer Kim."

Mingyu blinked at you, his confidence slipping for the first time. His usual playful arrogance wavered, replaced with something unreadable—uncertainty, maybe even realization. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if searching for a way to dodge whatever trap you had just laid out for him.

“I—what—no—” He scoffed, tearing his gaze away from yours as he ran a hand through his hair, the tips of his ears turning a faint shade of pink. "That’s not—"

You grinned, catching every subtle shift in his expression. “You’re blushing.”

Mingyu groaned, rubbing his face like he could physically erase the heat creeping up his skin. “I am not blushing.”

“Oh, you so are.”

The way you said it—so smug, so effortlessly—made something in his chest tighten. This was unfair. He was supposed to be the one messing with you, not the other way around. But here you were, turning his own words against him, staring at him with that knowing look that made his heart trip over itself.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, he slumped back against the couch, throwing an arm over his face in utter defeat. “This is exactly why I can’t sleep well when you’re here. You stress me out.”

You gasped theatrically, pressing a hand to your chest. “Wait, so now I’m boring and stressful?”

Mingyu peeked at you from under his arm, his lips twitching into a small smile despite himself. "Yeah," he mumbled, his voice softer now, less teasing. "The worst combination."

You watched him for a moment, something warm curling in your chest. He looked different like this—unguarded, just a little bit vulnerable, like he was still trying to figure out what to do with his own emotions.

You reached over and patted his arm, feigning sympathy. “Too late for that, pretty boy.”

Mingyu groaned again, rolling his head to the side to look at you. But despite his exaggerated exasperation, his eyes softened. He shook his head, a quiet chuckle slipping past his lips.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured.

And yet, even as he said it, he knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

*

Mingyu had been exhausted—dead tired, actually. His body ached from the long shift, his uniform felt suffocating, and his mind had already checked out the moment he stepped into his car. All he wanted was to go home, take a hot shower, and sleep until the sun decided to wake him.

Then his phone rang.

Seeing your name on the screen should’ve been a relief. He always had energy for you, no matter how drained he felt. But the second he answered and heard your voice—low, clipped, urgent—something in his chest twisted, shoving the exhaustion away in an instant.

"Mingyu, I need a taser."

His first instinct was to assume you were joking. "What?"

"A taser. Do you have one?"

Now he was sitting up straight, pulse spiking. His fingers clenched around the steering wheel.

"Why the hell do you need a taser?" His voice came out sharper than he intended, the weight of his concern pressing down on his chest. "Are you gonna go confront your hater or something?"

Silence.

His stomach dropped.

"Y/n." He said your name like a warning, a plea, a demand all at once.

"Just tell me if you have one or not."

That made his skin crawl. Something was wrong. Something was really fucking wrong. You weren’t the type to be vague about things unless you were hiding something.

Mingyu let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. "No. Tell me first. You just called me out of nowhere, sounding like you’re about to fight for your life, asking for a taser, and you expect me to be calm?!"

More silence.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breathing picking up. He strained to hear anything in the background of your call—were you outside? Were you alone? Was someone with you?

Then, finally, you sighed. "I’m at home."

Mingyu didn’t waste a second. He started the engine, throwing his car into drive. "Stay there. Don’t open the door for anyone. I’m coming."

"Mingyu—"

"I swear if you tell me not to come, I’ll lose my damn mind," he snapped, pressing harder on the gas. "Just wait."

The fact that you didn’t argue made his stomach tighten. You were stubborn as hell—always had been. If this were nothing, you would’ve shut him down already, told him he was overreacting.

But you didn’t.

And that scared him even more.

Mingyu swung your door open the moment he punched in the code, his heart already racing before he even stepped inside. The sight of you sitting at the dining table sent a fresh wave of worry crashing over him.

You didn’t look like yourself. Gone was the usual confidence, the effortless charm that always made you seem untouchable. Instead, you looked... small. Heavy with something dark and unspoken. It didn’t suit you. Mingyu hated seeing you like this—sad, angry, shaken.

Without thinking, he dropped to his knees in front of you, reaching for your hands. That’s when he noticed it.

You were trembling.

His stomach twisted. Was there someone in your house? A stalker? A threat he couldn’t see?

His lips parted to ask, but you spoke first.

"Someone has a lot of my inappropriate pics."

The words knocked the air from his lungs.

His grip on your hands tightened, his brain scrambling to process what he just heard. "Someone?" His voice came out sharper than he intended. "Who? What the hell are you talking about?"

Your jaw clenched. "And he wants me to come to this hotel room if I want him to delete them."

Mingyu felt something snap inside him.

His entire body went rigid, his pulse hammering in his ears. "Someone is blackmailing you..." The words came out in a low, dangerous murmur, more to himself than to you.

You nodded, confirming what he already knew but desperately wished wasn’t true.

His entire being burned with fury—an all-consuming, violent kind of anger he rarely ever felt. His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, his fingers curling into fists.

But beneath the rage, there was something else. Something that made his chest ache.

You weren’t just angry. You were ashamed.

Mingyu hated that more than anything.

Carefully, he reached up, cupping the side of your face, forcing you to look at him. "This is not your fault," he said firmly, his voice softer now but still unshakable.

Your eyes flickered with hesitation. "Mingyu—"

"No." His thumb brushed over your cheek. "I need you to hear me. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. That bastard? He’s the one who’s gonna regret messing with you."

For the briefest second, the tension in your shoulders eased. Just a little.

Mingyu exhaled, standing to his full height. "You’re not going anywhere near that hotel room. We’re handling this my way."

And by his way, he meant the legal way.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Because deep down, Kim Mingyu was already thinking of another way. A way that involved him finding this bastard first.

*

Mingyu immediately reported the blackmailing case to the regional district, his voice firm as he relayed the details. This needed to be handled now—not in a few hours, not tomorrow. He couldn’t afford to wait.

But what truly caught him off guard was the number he had just dialed. His fingers hovered over the dial for only a second before he pressed the button, bringing the phone to his ear.

It barely rang twice before a deep, familiar voice answered.

"Mingyu?"

Mingyu swallowed. "Dad, I need a favor."

He never called his father for help. Not even when things got rough in the academy. But this—this wasn’t about pride. This was about you. And for you, he’d push past anything, even his complicated relationship with the retired regional police chairman.

His father listened quietly as Mingyu explained the situation, his voice calm but urgent. When he was done, there was a long pause before his father finally spoke.

"I'll make a call to the district. They'll handle it immediately. Tell your friend not to respond to anything until the officers take over."

Mingyu let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. "Thank you."

"We’ll talk later." The line went dead.

He didn’t care about the weight of what he’d just done—about dragging his father into something when he’d spent years avoiding relying on him. The only thing that mattered was getting this handled as fast as possible.

And it was all for you.

Because if there was one thing Mingyu knew, it was that he would do anything for you. Even if you never felt the same way.

Mingyu couldn’t remember when it started.

Maybe it was back in the academy, when he used to glance around the practice rooms, always searching for you without even realizing it. Maybe it was during late-night hangouts, when he’d pretend he wasn’t looking forward to hearing you laugh. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself, with that impossible mix of confidence and warmth, making the whole world seem smaller whenever you were near.

Or maybe it was just because you were you.

Mingyu had never struggled to date. Women were attractive, intelligent, interesting. But none of them were you.

And that made all the difference.

So he settled for this. For being the person you felt comfortable around. For being the one you called when you needed help. It was enough.

Or at least, he told himself it was.

Because the truth—the painful, unshakable truth—was that no matter how many times he looked at you, no matter how much he wanted to be the person you saw differently.

He knew he never would be.

Mingyu approached you carefully, his footsteps light but urgent. You sat on the couch, hands wrapped around a cup of tea your manager had made, though it remained untouched. He could see the way your fingers trembled slightly, the way your shoulders curled inward as if trying to make yourself smaller.

Without a word, he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands resting on your thighs, grounding you. His gaze searched your face, his voice steady but gentle.

“Do you have any idea who it might be?”

You inhaled sharply, your lips parting, but hesitation clouded your expression.

Mingyu noticed immediately. “Y/n,” he pressed, voice soft yet firm. “If you know something, anything, you need to tell me.”

You shook your head, fingers tightening around the ceramic cup. “It’s not that simple.”

“Not that simple?” His brows furrowed. “Someone is blackmailing you with nudes, and you’re worried about it being complicated? Y/n, I need to know who we’re dealing with.”

“I just—” You exhaled, frustration flickering in your eyes before you looked away. “I don’t want to accuse someone without proof.”

“Proof?” Mingyu scoffed. “Y/n, someone is threatening you, and you’re worried about proof?” His grip on your thighs tightened slightly. “Who is it?”

You pressed your lips together, torn. You wanted to believe it wasn’t true, that maybe you were overthinking, but deep down, you knew.

Mingyu watched you struggle with your thoughts, his patience thinning. “Y/n.” His voice dropped lower, softer, but edged with desperation. “Please. Trust me.”

You met his gaze, searching for something—reassurance, maybe. And damn it, Mingyu had never let you down before.

Finally, you swallowed hard and whispered a name.

“Jaehyun.”

Mingyu felt his entire body go rigid the moment the name left your lips. His breath hitched, his heart thudding hard against his ribcage, not with excitement or nervousness—no, this was pure, boiling anger. His fingers twitched against your thighs, the warmth of your skin grounding him just enough to keep his emotions in check.

Jaehyun?

Out of all the people in the world, Jaehyun?

The name repeated in his head like a broken record, each syllable hitting him harder, making his jaw clench so tightly it ached. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense.

Yet, there you were, sitting in front of him, your hands curled so tightly around your cup of tea that he worried it might crack under the pressure.

Mingyu exhaled sharply, forcing himself to speak. “What did you just say?”

You flinched at his tone. It wasn’t loud, but there was something raw in it—something you had never heard from him before. Mingyu was always the one who cracked jokes, who lightened the mood even in tense situations. But right now, there was no humor in his expression. Just tightly coiled fury and disbelief.

You swallowed hard, throat dry. “I called him after the wrap party,” you said, voice quiet, as if saying it any louder would make it more real.

Mingyu’s breath came in uneven exhales. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hit something or demand answers from you until everything made sense. Instead, he curled his fists in his lap, trying to suppress the tremor in his fingers.

“And?” His voice was strained, like he was using every ounce of his patience to keep himself from completely losing it.

You hesitated. You had known this would be hard, but seeing Mingyu like this—his entire body tense, his brows drawn together in barely contained rage—made your stomach twist with unease.

“I confronted him about something…” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu inhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on your legs before he forced himself to let go, dragging a hand down his face. His mind was racing, piecing together everything you weren’t saying.

“You confronted him?” he echoed, his voice dangerously calm. “Y/n, what the hell did you say to him that led to this?”

You hesitated again, and that hesitation was enough to make something snap inside Mingyu.

He pushed himself to his feet, pacing in front of you with frantic, frustrated energy. “You knew something, didn’t you?” His voice was rising, not in anger toward you, but in sheer frustration. “You knew something about Jaehyun, and that’s why you confronted him.” He stopped pacing and turned to face you again, his eyes burning into yours. “Did he threaten you then?”

Your silence was answer enough.

Mingyu let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair before gripping the back of his neck. His entire body felt hot with rage, but the worst part? The worst part was that you hadn’t told him sooner.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Y/n?” His voice cracked slightly, laced with something deeper than anger—something closer to hurt. “Why did you handle this alone?”

You bit your lip, looking away. “Because I knew you’d react like this,” you admitted, voice soft but weighted.

Mingyu let out a sharp breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “Like this?” He gestured to himself, his fingers pressing into his temples as if trying to physically push away his frustration. “You mean like someone who actually cares about you?”

Your throat tightened. It wasn’t that simple. You had wanted to handle it on your own, to be strong, to not let him carry the burden of something that was yours to deal with. But now, seeing the raw emotion in Mingyu’s eyes—the way he looked at you like he was hurting just as much—you realized how unfair it was.

You weren’t the only one affected by this.

Mingyu ran a hand down his face again before letting out a shaky exhale. When he finally looked at you, there was something different in his gaze—something softer, but just as intense.

“Y/n,” he murmured, stepping closer again, kneeling down so he was level with you once more. His hands reached out, grasping yours, firm but gentle. “You’re not alone in this, okay? You never have to be.”

His voice wavered slightly, but his grip remained steady, his warmth grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

You blinked, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I know,” you whispered, voice finally breaking.

Mingyu squeezed your hands, his own shaking slightly. He wasn’t sure what burned more—the anger of knowing someone had done this to you, or the ache of realizing how much you had tried to bear on your own.

*

Mingyu walked toward the hotel room with two detectives from the regional office, his jaw set, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The only way to catch the culprit was to confront them directly, and though the plan was risky, it was the best way to ensure your safety. Your label had tried to intervene, worried about the scandal that would erupt if this reached the media. But Mingyu had shut them down without hesitation. How could they care more about their public image than protecting you? They had failed you once already—he wouldn't let it happen again.

The tension in the air was thick as the hotel staff hesitated before unlocking the door. Mingyu braced himself, expecting to see Jaehyun sprawled across the couch, waiting with a smug, taunting grin. A part of him still wanted to believe it wasn’t true—that Jaehyun wouldn’t do this to you. To him. The idea had made his stomach turn, his knuckles itch to land a punch before the law could take its course.

But as the door swung open, the sight before him made his stomach churn.

It wasn’t Jaehyun.

But instead, it was Park Yaehan.

Sitting leisurely on the couch, draped in nothing but a plush hotel robe, swirling a glass of deep red wine in his hand like he had all the time in the world. His lips curled into a smirk, one that sent a sick wave of fury rolling through Mingyu’s chest.

The detectives wasted no time. One of them stepped forward, flashing his badge as his voice rang through the room with authority.

“Park Yaehan, you are under arrest for blackmail, illegal possession of private material, and attempted coercion.”

Mingyu barely heard the rest. His blood was boiling too hot, his vision sharpening to a pinpoint focus on the man before him.

Yaehan barely reacted—if anything, his smirk grew wider. He didn’t resist when one of the officers yanked him up and twisted his arms behind his back, locking the handcuffs in place with a click. Instead, he let out a low chuckle, eyes flickering to Mingyu.

“You’re dramatic,” Yaehan mused, tilting his head slightly. “Did she call you crying?” His tone was taunting, venom laced into every syllable. “Begging for help?”

Mingyu’s fists clenched at his sides so hard he could feel his nails biting into his palms. His breathing was ragged, but he didn’t move—didn’t give Yaehan the satisfaction of a reaction.

The detective shoved him forward. “You have the right to remain silent,” he started, his voice cold, detached—like this was just another day on the job.

Yaehan didn’t fight back. He let himself be pushed toward the door, but not before glancing over his shoulder with one final smirk.

“She was always good at making men come running, wasn’t she?”

That was the last straw.

Mingyu lunged before he could stop himself, grabbing Yaehan by the collar with both fists and slamming him against the nearest wall. The impact shook the lamp on the side table, the wine glass shattering on the floor. The detectives barked at him to stand down, but their voices barely registered.

Mingyu’s entire body was trembling with rage, his breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts. His face was only inches from Yaehan’s, his grip tightening like he could choke the smugness right out of him.

“If you ever—ever—say her name again, I swear to God, I won’t stop at just this,” Mingyu snarled, his voice low, dangerous.

That was when one of the detectives grabbed Mingyu’s shoulder, pulling him back with force. He let go, but not without one last glare, seething with promises of violence he wished he could deliver.

Yaehan was dragged out of the room, his smirk never fading.

Mingyu stood there for a moment, chest heaving, hands shaking. His head was pounding with the weight of everything—your shaken voice on the phone, the way you had curled into yourself earlier, the fear you had tried to mask.

And now, even though the bastard was in cuffs, Mingyu still didn’t feel relief.

Because the damage had already been done.

And he hated that you had ever been afraid in the first place.

*

Jaehyun immediately drove to your place after receiving Mingyu’s call that morning. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as a heavy feeling settled in his chest. The news had already broken—Park Yaehan, handcuffed and dragged out of a hotel room in the early hours of the morning. But what weighed on Jaehyun’s mind wasn’t just the scandal. It was you.

When he arrived, Mingyu was already at the door, looking exhausted but as sharp as ever. He stepped aside without a word, letting Jaehyun in.

The first thing Jaehyun saw was you, curled up on the couch, fast asleep. A blanket draped over you, barely rising and falling with your soft breaths. You looked… drained. Not the strong, confident person he remembered. A pang of guilt settled deep in his stomach.

"I saw the news," Jaehyun whispered, careful not to wake you. "Park Yaehan was dragged out by the police at 2 AM."

Mingyu motioned for him to move to the dining table. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried an edge of accusation.

"Tell me something I don’t know, Jaehyun. Because she thought it was you."

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "We argued weeks ago. After the wrap party."

Mingyu tilted his head slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "What did you argue about that made her think you'd harm her?"

Jaehyun’s hands trembled slightly as he clasped them together, fingers digging into his knuckles. The weight of Mingyu’s stare felt suffocating, pressing down on him like a boulder he couldn’t push away. He had driven here in a rush, his thoughts tangled in confusion and anger, but now, sitting at the dining table under Mingyu’s piercing gaze, all that energy had drained into something colder—guilt, maybe regret.

Across from him, Mingyu was eerily still. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, his entire posture unreadable except for the sharp glint in his eyes. The silence stretched between them like a taut rope, fraying at the edges, threatening to snap. Jaehyun had expected some kind of immediate reaction—a scoff, an angry outburst, even just disbelief—but the silence was worse. It made him feel like he had already been judged, found guilty without trial.

"You stole my debut," Mingyu repeated, voice quiet but firm. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement—cold, bitter, but not surprised. He was piecing things together, letting the realization settle in.

Jaehyun swallowed, nodding once. "Yeah."

Mingyu tilted his head slightly, as if scrutinizing him. "And you think that’s why she suspected you? Because of something that happened years ago?"

Jaehyun sighed, rubbing his face with both hands before letting them drop to his lap. "I don’t know. But she was the only one who knew how much it haunted me." His voice faltered for a second, and he glanced toward you, still curled up on the couch, completely unaware of the storm brewing just a few feet away. His throat tightened. "Maybe she never let it go. Maybe she never fully forgave me."

Mingyu exhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers against his bicep in irritation. "Forgiveness isn’t the issue here, Jaehyun. She didn’t just doubt you—she feared you."

Those words stung more than Jaehyun had anticipated. He flinched slightly, his grip on his knees tightening. "I never gave her a reason to be afraid of me."

"But she was," Mingyu shot back, his tone sharper now. "That’s what matters."

Jaehyun clenched his jaw, frustration simmering beneath his skin. "I would never hurt her."

"Then why did she think you would?" Mingyu challenged, leaning forward slightly. "Do you even realize what she went through the past twenty-four hours? She was terrified, Jaehyun. And out of everyone, the first name that came to her mind was you."

Jaehyun’s breathing grew uneven, his heart pounding against his ribs. He had thought about that too, ever since Mingyu’s call. Why him? Why would you believe he was capable of something so cruel? Was it really because of his past mistake, or had he done something else—something he wasn’t even aware of—that made you see him that way?

Mingyu studied him for a long moment before shaking his head, his voice quieting just slightly. "If you really cared about her, you’d be asking yourself the same question."

Jaehyun wanted to argue, wanted to say that he had been asking himself that question over and over since he found out. But the truth was, he didn’t have an answer. And that uncertainty felt like a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

The weight in his chest grew heavier as he finally whispered, "I thought she knew me better than that."

Mingyu let out a short, humorless laugh. "Did you?”

*

"Mingyu..." Your voice was hoarse from sleep, your throat dry, and your body stiff from spending too many hours curled up on the couch. A dull ache spread across your back, making you wince as you shifted. You had lost track of time, barely aware of when exhaustion had pulled you under. But you remembered Mingyu’s promise—he said he wouldn’t leave you. That was the last thing you clung to before sleep claimed you.

You stirred again, calling his name unconsciously, expecting his presence. But when your eyes fluttered open, it wasn’t Mingyu you saw.

It was him.

"Jung Jaehyun?" Your voice came out weaker than you intended, confusion laced with caution.

Jaehyun sat across from you, his posture relaxed, but his expression was anything but. His lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke. "How are you feeling?"

Your eyes darted around, searching for Mingyu. "How are you here? Where’s Mingyu?"

"He went to the regional office with your manager," Jaehyun answered, his voice measured.

You sighed, nodding as your gaze flickered toward the clock on the wall. The hands pointed to 11. You had been out for nearly six hours. No wonder your body felt sore.

Jaehyun watched you carefully before speaking again. "Mingyu called me about what happened." He hesitated, as if picking his words carefully. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that."

You shook your head slowly, swallowing against the lump in your throat. "I'm just... glad it wasn't you." Your voice wavered, a mix of relief and guilt. "I'm sorry too."

Jaehyun exhaled, running a hand down his face. "I mean... I'm sorry for everything." His fingers curled into fists against his thighs. "For what happened last night. For what happened in the past. I made a lot of mistakes. I—" He exhaled sharply. "I doubted your potential."

The room fell into a heavy silence. It stretched between you like an invisible wall, thick with words left unsaid.

Finally, you broke it. "Have you apologized to Mingyu?"

Jaehyun’s brow furrowed slightly, caught off guard by your sudden shift in focus.

"You stole his debut," you said simply. There was no accusation in your tone—just quiet acknowledgment of a truth you both knew.

Jaehyun’s lips parted as if to respond, but he hesitated. His shoulders tensed. Then, slowly, he nodded.

But something in his expression shifted. It wasn’t just regret that flickered across his face—it was something heavier, something unresolved. A quiet acceptance that things between him and Mingyu would never be the same again.

Friendships, no matter how deep, had their limits. And Jaehyun was starting to wonder if he had already crossed the line too far to go back.

Jaehyun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he let out a slow, measured breath. He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to tell you, but then he spoke.

"The director called Mingyu earlier," he said carefully, watching your reaction. "He said he couldn’t help but cancel him as a cast."

Your stomach dropped.

Jaehyun’s voice remained calm, but there was an underlying tension in his words. "He was disappointed… about everything that happened. He didn’t want it to affect the production any further."

You felt a sharp pang in your chest. Mingyu had done nothing wrong. If anything, he had fought for you—protected you when no one else did. And now, he was paying the price for it.

Your fingers clenched the blanket draped over you. "He… got fired?"

Jaehyun didn’t say the word, but his silence was enough of an answer.

Jaehyun sighed, rubbing his temple. "The director didn’t want to make the call, but the producers were insistent. They don’t want any scandals tied to the project."

You swallowed hard. The industry was ruthless, you knew that. But hearing it out loud—seeing how easily they discarded Mingyu after everything—made your blood boil.

"This isn’t fair," you muttered, your voice shaking.

"I know," Jaehyun admitted. "But Mingyu probably knew this was coming."

That didn’t make it any less painful.

You exhaled sharply, your head pounding with frustration. Mingyu had given so much—for you, for this project—only to be thrown aside. You knew he’d act like it didn’t bother him, that he’d brush it off with a grin and say it was fine. But it wasn’t fine.

And for the first time since this whole mess started, you weren’t just angry at the people who hurt you.

You were angry at the industry, at the way it treated the people who gave it everything.

And most of all, you were angry at yourself—because no matter how much you hated it, you knew that you were part of the reason this happened to Mingyu.

*

Mingyu hadn’t expected to see anyone when he stepped out of his car that night, much less you.

You stood outside his apartment building, shivering slightly in the cold, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The dim streetlight cast a glow over your face, highlighting the way your breath came out in faint, visible puffs against the chilly night air. Your hair was slightly tousled, as if you had been standing there for a while, debating whether or not to go inside.

His chest tightened at the sight. It had been two weeks since the incident—two weeks since your label announced your hiatus, since the fallout of Park Yaehan’s scandal had sent shockwaves through the industry. Two weeks since you had last reached out to him. And now, here you were, waiting for him outside his home in the dead of night.

“Y/n?” Mingyu called, stepping closer. His voice held a mixture of surprise and concern. “What are you doing here? It’s freezing.”

His voice was softer than he intended, but there was an edge of concern underneath. He knew you weren’t supposed to be out in public, not when your name was still floating around in headlines. Not when you should’ve been resting.

You lifted your gaze to meet his, your expression unreadable at first. But then, you offered a small, tired smile—one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I needed to see you.”

He didn’t press further. Instead, he sighed, pulling off his coat without a second thought and draping it over your shoulders. His warmth lingered in the fabric, and you instinctively pulled it closer.

“Come inside,” he said gently. “You shouldn’t be out here like this.”

You hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of something, before finally nodding. Without another word, Mingyu reached for the door, holding it open for you as you stepped inside.

Mingyu watched you carefully as the two of you stepped inside his apartment. His eyes traced over your face, taking in the subtle hollowness in your cheeks, the way your sweater hung a little looser on your frame. His chest ached at the realization.

“You lost weight,” he murmured, concern lacing his tone. “Do you want me to cook you something?”

You gave a small nod, your gaze drifting to the floor as if the weight of the conversation in your head was too heavy to meet his eyes.

Mingyu turned toward the kitchen, but before he could take a step, your voice stopped him.

“Mingyu.”

He stilled, nodding slightly to let you know he was listening. His heart pounded a little harder beneath his ribs, sensing there was something you weren’t saying yet.

“When I debuted,” you started, voice quieter now, “how did you feel?”

A silence stretched between you, thick and unspoken. Then, finally, Mingyu sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I was happy for you,” he admitted simply.

You finally lifted your gaze, searching his face. “And when Jaehyun debuted?”

Mingyu exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Why are we talking about things that have already passed?”

But you weren’t letting this go. “Acting was your dream too, Mingyu,” you pressed. “How did it feel to never debut?”

He let out a short chuckle, though there was no humor behind it. “You really want to hear the answer?” His voice held an edge now, not of anger, but of something close to exhaustion. “Fine. It was nothing. Because I forced myself to focus on getting better at something else.”

Your brows furrowed slightly at his response, but before you could say anything, he continued.

“But why are you still so kind to me and Jaehyun?” You finally asked.

Mingyu blinked at you, as if the question itself was absurd. “Because you guys are my friends,” he said simply. “And I have no reason to hate you. Or dislike you.”

Another silence settled between you. This time, it felt heavier.

Mingyu studied your face for a moment before speaking again, his voice quieter this time.

“Is there something specific you want to hear from me?”

“Tell me you hate me,” you whispered, your voice raw with desperation.

Mingyu blinked at you, disbelief flashing across his face. “What are you talking about?” His voice was uneven, edged with confusion and something dangerously close to anger. “Why would I hate you?”

You swallowed against the lump forming in your throat, your nails digging into your palms. “I— I heard from Jaehyun… the director cut you off.”

Mingyu’s jaw twitched, his fingers flexing at his sides. A flicker of something passed through his eyes—hurt, frustration—but it was gone in a second, masked by indifference. He shrugged, forcing nonchalance into his voice. “So?”

Your breath hitched. “I failed your debut… again.”

Mingyu let out a slow, deliberate exhale, his patience thinning. His voice lowered, calm but edged with warning. “And then?”

The weight of your guilt pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. “You should hate me, Mingyu,” you choked out, the words barely making it past your lips. “I crushed your dream.”

Mingyu’s brows furrowed, and this time, frustration flickered openly across his face. His hands clenched into fists at his sides before he forced them to relax. “No, you didn’t,” he said firmly. “And you never have.”

Your vision blurred slightly, your pulse thrumming painfully in your ears. “I know it was important to you… acting.”

Mingyu inhaled sharply through his nose, his patience wearing thin. “What are you talking about, Y/n? Nothing is important to me right now. You know that.”

Your throat tightened as you stepped forward, your voice barely steady. “But it was always your dream…”

Mingyu dragged a hand down his face, his frustration palpable. “Yeah, it was. In the past.” He exhaled heavily, his tone quieter but weighted with finality. “Now… I don’t think I suit the acting industry. Not after everything that’s happened—”

“I like you, Mingyu.”

The words spilled from your lips before you could stop them, and the shift in the air was immediate—suffocating.

Mingyu froze.

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening slightly as your confession settled between you like an earthquake, shaking the fragile ground you stood on. The tension that had been simmering in the room suddenly felt unbearable, pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

His silence was worse than anything you had imagined.

“I like you…” you repeated, but this time, your voice wavered, thick with uncertainty.

Mingyu just stood there, staring at you as if you had just unraveled something inside him he wasn’t ready to face. His lips parted, but no words came out.

You swallowed hard, feeling the burn of unshed tears prick your eyes. “And knowing that I was the reason for everything that happened—the director cutting you off, your failed debut…” Your voice cracked, and you dropped your gaze to the floor, unable to meet his eyes anymore. “I was… I am sorry.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenched, his breathing heavy as if he was struggling with something. “Y/n…”

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, the weight of your guilt pressing against your ribcage.

Mingyu let out a sharp breath, frustration laced in every syllable. “Stop saying that.”

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, putting distance between you as if it would somehow lessen the ache in your chest. “It’s the truth. You lost so much because of me, and yet… you’re still here, being kind to me, looking after me.” Your voice broke, raw with emotion. “How can you do that? How can you not hate me?”

Mingyu’s expression darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line before he finally spoke, his voice low but unwavering. “Because I don’t blame you, Y/n. And I never will.”

Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, searching for something—anger, resentment, anything that would make sense of the situation. But all you found was sincerity, unshaken and firm.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Because you couldn’t understand how someone could lose so much and still choose to stay.

Mingyu exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair as if trying to ground himself. His frustration was evident, but it wasn’t directed at you—it was at the situation, at the way you refused to see what he had been trying to tell you all along.

"Y/n, do you really think I'm still hung up on debuting?" His voice was quiet but firm. "Do you really think my entire life was ruined just because I didn’t become an actor?"

You couldn’t answer.

Because wasn’t that the truth?

You had spent so long carrying the weight of his dreams on your shoulders, convincing yourself that your success had come at the cost of his, that you never stopped to consider—maybe you weren’t the one who got to decide what he had lost.

Mingyu sighed, stepping closer, his presence warm despite the cold tension in the air. "I never hated you, not once," he murmured, his eyes searching yours. "So why do you keep trying to push me away?"

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling around the hem of your coat. "Because…" You hesitated, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel guilty."

Mingyu scoffed, shaking his head. "That’s not a reason to hate someone, Y/n. And it sure as hell isn’t a reason for me to walk away from you."

His words hit deep, unraveling something inside you that had been wound too tight for too long.

Your gaze dropped to the floor. "I just… I don’t know how to make it right."

"You don’t have to."

The certainty in his voice made you look up. Mingyu was watching you, his expression open, unguarded in a way that made your chest tighten.

"You don’t have to make anything right," he repeated. "Because nothing was ever wrong between us."

Silence hung between you again, thick with unspoken feelings, unshed tears, and the weight of too many years spent misunderstanding each other.

And then, in the quiet, Mingyu sighed, tilting his head slightly as if finally acknowledging the other thing lingering between you.

"You like me," he murmured, his voice softer now. It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. "I do."

Mingyu’s lips quirked into the smallest, saddest smile. "And you think you don’t deserve me?"

You nodded hesitantly, unable to meet his gaze.

Mingyu let out a breath, almost like a quiet chuckle, before he reached out—his fingers curling gently around your wrist, his warmth seeping into your skin.

"Y/n," he said, his voice impossibly tender. "You’re the only thing I never regretted."

Your heart clenched.

The air shifted again, this time not with guilt or hesitation, but with something heavier, something deeper.

You had spent so long believing you had ruined his life. And yet, here he was, standing right in front of you, telling you that you were the only thing he never once resented.

Your throat tightened, emotions threatening to spill over. "Mingyu…"

His grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, grounding you. "Stop running away from me," he whispered. "If you like me, then just… stay."

Your chest ached, the words hitting you harder than you expected.

Could you?

Could you really let go of the guilt, of the years of overthinking and self-blame?

Could you stay?

Mingyu let out a shaky breath, his grip on your wrist firm but gentle, as if he were afraid you would disappear if he let go. His heart pounded against his ribs, louder than the silence between you.

For years, he had buried this feeling—stuffed it deep into the corners of his heart, convinced that friendship was enough, that he could endure simply standing by your side. But right now, seeing you like this, so raw, so vulnerable, telling him you liked him while carrying a guilt you never should have had to bear…

Something inside him snapped.

No more holding back.

He swallowed hard, his other hand coming up to cradle the side of your face. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, and he felt the way you tensed under his touch. The hesitation in your eyes, the way your lips parted slightly as if you wanted to say something—but you didn’t.

For once, Mingyu didn’t give you the space to run.

He leaned in, hesitating just for a fraction of a second, just long enough for you to stop him if you wanted to. But you didn’t move.

And then, he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate, but it wasn’t careful either. It was full of everything he had held back for years—frustration, longing, the silent love he had carried for so long without ever daring to name it.

His lips were warm against yours, the pressure firm yet soft, as if he were trying to tell you with this kiss what he had never been brave enough to say out loud. That he had wanted you all along. That it was never about acting, never about the past—only about you.

You stiffened for a moment, stunned, before your fingers clutched at the fabric of his sweater, grounding yourself. The way your body melted into his just slightly, the way your breath hitched against his lips—it made something deep in Mingyu’s chest ache.

You kissed him back.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

His hand slid from your wrist to your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss just slightly, enough to let you know—he wasn’t going to let you push him away anymore.

He wasn’t going to let either of you keep pretending.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless, the space between you charged with something electric.

"You think you don’t deserve me," he murmured, voice low, warm against your lips. "But, Y/n… I’ve spent years thinking I was the one who didn’t deserve you."

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes fluttering open to meet his. Mingyu’s gaze was soft yet intense, no hesitation left.

"So if we’re both idiots about this," he whispered, "then let’s just stop pretending."

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch steady, grounding. "Stay," he said again, but this time, it wasn’t just a request. It was a promise.

A promise that if you chose him, he wouldn’t let you regret it.

*

The warm glow of your apartment cast a cozy atmosphere over the small gathering, the scent of takeout and the faint fizz of beer bottles opening filling the air. Mingyu sat beside you on the couch, his arm draped casually behind you, fingers lightly grazing your shoulder. Jaehyun sat across from you both, legs stretched out, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

You had been putting this moment off for too long, but tonight—celebrating Mingyu’s promotion to detective at the regional station—it felt right. The weight that had been sitting in your chest for weeks finally eased as you turned to Jaehyun and said, “By the way… Mingyu and I are dating.”

Jaehyun groaned loudly, throwing his head back against the couch. “Finally!”

Mingyu burst into laughter, nudging you playfully. “He must’ve seen this coming.”

Jaehyun scoffed, sitting up straighter. “Yeah! Who didn’t?” He pointed at you. “I mean, come on, Mingyu literally would do anything for you. The guy has had ‘in love with Y/N’ written all over his face for years.”

Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at Mingyu, but he just shrugged with an easy grin. “Took us long enough, huh?”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for this announcement since forever. You guys were dancing around each other so much, I was this close—” he held up his fingers an inch apart “—to locking you in a room until you figured it out.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “We weren’t that obvious.”

Jaehyun snorted. “Oh, you were.” He turned to Mingyu. “Dude, I’ve seen you drop everything for her without even thinking. If she called you at 3 a.m. because she saw a spider, you’d drive across town just to kill it.”

Mingyu shrugged again, taking a sip of his drink. “Well… yeah.”

Jaehyun shook his head with a fond sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m happy for you guys.” He raised his beer. “To Mingyu’s promotion, and to finally putting an end to all the unnecessary tension.”

You and Mingyu clinked your drinks against his, sharing a glance that held something deeper—a quiet understanding that this, right here, was what mattered. The past, the guilt, the hesitation… none of it had a place in the life you were building together now.

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

Mingyu scoffed, setting his drink down with a playful glare in Jaehyun’s direction. “Okay, but why does it sound like I was the only one who was obvious? Like I was pathetically in love while she just—what? Kept me around for convenience?” He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “You really hid it that well, huh?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jaehyun cut in, shaking his head. “Nah, don’t even start with that, Mingyu. You just never paid attention.”

Mingyu frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jaehyun leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Remember when she confronted me about your debut? When she found out I got cast instead of you?”

Mingyu blinked, caught off guard. “What about it?”

Jaehyun huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “She came at me like she was ready to burn everything down. I’ve never seen her that angry before. She wasn’t mad that I got the role—she was mad that you didn’t. And when I told her there was nothing she could do, that it was already decided, you know what she said?”

Mingyu swallowed, his chest tightening as he looked at you. “…What did she say?”

Jaehyun turned to you, his expression softening. “She said, ‘It’s not fair. No one works harder than Mingyu. No one deserves it more than him.’” He let out a small chuckle. “And then she told me I should apologize to you. That I owed you that much.”

Mingyu’s lips parted slightly as he looked at you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. Your fingers toyed with the hem of your sleeve, nervous under his gaze.

Jaehyun leaned back, crossing his arms. “So yeah, maybe she wasn’t obvious like you, following her around like a lost puppy.” Mingyu glared at him, but Jaehyun just grinned. “But she cared. A lot. Probably more than she even realized.”

Silence settled between the three of you. Mingyu was still staring at you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. Slowly, you glanced up at him, your heart hammering in your chest.

Mingyu let out a small, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair. “So all this time… you really did care that much?”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Of course, I did.”

Mingyu exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a fond, almost exasperated smile. “And you still made me think I was in this alone?”

You bit your lip, but before you could answer, Jaehyun groaned, standing up. “Okay, I’m done being the middleman in your slow-burn romance. You guys figure out the rest.”

With that, he grabbed another drink and headed toward your balcony, giving you and Mingyu some space.

Mingyu watched him leave before turning back to you, his expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, he reached out, fingers brushing against yours before lacing them together.

“You could’ve told me,” he murmured, voice softer now.

You squeezed his hand lightly. “I was scared.”

Mingyu sighed, bringing your hand to his lips for a brief kiss. “Me too,” he admitted.

For the first time, neither of you had to run, hide, or pretend.

*

The warmth of laughter filled your apartment as the three of you huddled around the small coffee table, empty bottles and snack wrappers scattered across it. The air was light, no longer weighed down by unspoken words or past regrets. It felt… normal. Like old times, except better—because now, there were no more barriers.

Jaehyun smirked as he laid down his final card. “And that makes me the winner.”

Mingyu groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Again? Are you cheating?”

“You just suck at this game,” Jaehyun shot back, grinning.

You giggled, nudging Mingyu’s arm. “Loser runs the errand. More drinks and snacks, please.”

Mingyu sighed, dragging himself up from the floor. “You guys planned this, didn’t you?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You’re both evil.” But despite his words, Mingyu smiled as he grabbed his jacket and slipped on his shoes.

The cold night air greeted him as he stepped out of your building, his breath visible in the crisp air. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional car passing by. He shoved his hands into his pockets, heading toward the convenience store a block away.

But as he approached, he slowed his steps, his brows furrowing.

Sitting in front of the store, illuminated by the glow of the streetlights, was a familiar face. Chan. His colleague.

Mingyu tilted his head. “Isn’t that… the part-timer?” he muttered to himself.

Chan was deep in conversation with a girl, her face half-hidden by her long hair. She laughed at something he said, her hand playfully pushing his shoulder.

Mingyu smirked to himself. “Well, well. What’s this?”

It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had a story unfolding tonight.

Shaking his head in amusement, Mingyu stepped into the store, letting the door chime announce his arrival. He still had an errand to run, after all. But now, he had something interesting to bring up to Chan later.

[pedroscurls]

secret crushes (one-shot)

summary: you've known hugh for years, having not only a personal friendship with him, but also a professional one. then, ryan decides to play matchmaker unbeknownst to you or hugh. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 4.5k warnings: this is complete filth bc how can you not look at that first photo and just be fine??? anyway - porn with little plot, unprotected p in v, public beach sex, seated cowgirl, oral - m receiving, light dirty talk, no use of y/n. a/n: this is for the anon who requested this spicy idea! i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it. i haven't opened up my requests since 2017 (i think), but ya know, that might change after this lol. i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman! this is purely fictional.

“All expenses paid,” you hear Ryan say over the phone. “You deserve a vacation. Even Blake agrees.”

“Ryan, no,” you protest, beginning to clean up your small coffee shop for the day. When you opened your own coffee shop so many years ago, you didn’t expect that not only would it be great business, but that you’d be very close friends with Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman. 

“Oh, come on!” he says. “When was the last time you took time for yourself, hm?” 

There’s a silence that engulfs the two of you.

Before you can even speak, Ryan chimes in. “Exactly. You’ll have your own hotel room. You don’t have to spend the entire trip with us, though, we will be hurt if you don’t hang out with us, and–” he teases. 

“Okay, fine! Fine,” you huff. “I’m sure after Deadpool & Wolverine, you need some time for you and your family too.”

“Yeah,” Ryan replies. “I feel like I can be a good dad now.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You’ve always been a good dad.”

“Eh,” he chuckles. “So, we’ll see you at the airport this weekend?”

“Sure.”

“Actually, we’re going to pick you up.” Ryan decides. “That way, I know for sure you’ll be coming with us.”

“God, you’re annoying!” you laugh. “Fine. I’ll see you and the family this Friday night. After I close up.”

“No, no. We’re leaving in the morning. Your coffee shop will be fine.”

“I know, it’s just–” you sigh, resting the phone between your ear and shoulder as you rearrange the bags of coffee on the display. Your mind drifts momentarily when you see the Laughing Man coffee beans, thinking about Hugh. “Nevermind.” 

“You think too much,” Ryan points out then his voice turns serious for a moment. “You’ll be okay. Your shop will be okay. In the time we’ve known you – Hugh and I – you’ve always been working, busting your ass.”

“I know,” you then move your gaze to the amount of photographs on your wall behind the counter. They are photographs that you’ve taken, candid ones of your employees, landscape portraits of the trips you’ve taken to find the best coffee beans, even personal photos of you and your family and friends, including Hugh, Ryan, and Blake. 

“So…” he says. “Pick you up Friday morning?” 

“Yes, Ryan. You can pick me up Friday morning. You’re very convincing, do you know that? You just never quit until you get your way.” 

“What can I say? I’m very persuasive.” He chuckles. “Okay, I’ll see you Friday. Have a good rest of your week. Call me if you need anything.” 

“I’m sure I’ll see you and Hugh before then,” you tease. “At this rate, all this free coffee I give you does amount to a free trip.”

“Exactly! Talk to you later.” 

—

You hadn’t spoken to Hugh in weeks, knowing that he and Ryan had been doing constant press conferences and interviews after Deadpool & Wolverine came out. You’d never admit it to either of them, but you did go out to watch the movie and it only fueled the crush that you had on Hugh. Especially that final scene. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t go home that night with thoughts filled of him. Shirtless and glistening. It was rather inappropriate, really. Not only did you and Hugh start out as friends, but you also had a partnership with him where he sells his brand of coffee at your coffee shop and takes a cut of what the sales make. It’s worked for years now and you never really looked at him in a way that was more than a friend or partner. You knew he was good looking, so sweet and funny, but it wasn’t until months after his divorce that you started to look at him differently. You had to wonder if he looked at you the same way because you started to notice how often he would come by when you were closing up to help you clean, or how his gaze on you would linger, his touches seemingly becoming more and more less friendly and more intimate. 

You’re already on the plane with Ryan, Blake, and the rest of their family. It never felt like you were the odd one out. Both Ryan and Blake always made you feel like you were part of their family. There were plenty of times where you and Hugh would babysit Ryan and Blake’s children while they were busy and always, they’d ask for Uncle Hugh to sing songs from The Greatest Showman. You were always right there next to him, singing and performing alongside him to entertain the kids. 

When you moved to New York, it was a big leap of faith. It wasn’t always easy, but Hugh, Ryan, and Blake made you feel less alone when there were times you weren’t sure you were ever going to make it out here. Now, you can’t even think of leaving New York. It has become your home. These people… They have become your family. 

You look up from your notebook to see Blake and Ryan staring at you, both with big grins on their faces. You can tell they were hiding something, so you shut your notebook and point at them.

“Okay, spill.”

Ryan feigns a gasp, palms raising up in surrender. “Can’t my beautiful wife and I stare at you lovingly?” 

Blake lets out a quiet laugh and rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re both really bad liars,” you point out. “What is it? Why are you both smiling at me like that?”

“We’re just happy that you’re finally taking some time to yourself,” Blake replies, moving to sit next to you. 

“You’re much more convincing than your husband,” you say loud enough for Ryan to hear.

“I take offense to that,” Ryan says. 

Blake turns to you and looks down at your notebook, tilting her head in amusement. “Even away from your coffee shop, all you can think about is how to improve it. Don’t you ever stop working?” 

“Never,” you laugh, opening your notebook for her to look through. “Fall is right around the corner, so I’m just thinking of a few specialty drinks that I can introduce for a limited time. I hear pumpkin spice is very popular.”

You and Blake stare at each other and then erupt into a fit of laughter, both of you shaking your heads. “Can you promise me one thing on this trip?” she asks.

“I can try.” 

“Try to have some fun, don’t think so much about work. It’ll be there when you get back. We’re in Hawaii for two weeks. Just–” Blake shrugs. “Be open and let loose.” 

You arch an eyebrow. “I feel like there’s a hidden meaning there somewhere.”

“Oh, there is!” Ryan nods, a grin lining his lips. “Or is there?” 

“The both of you,” you shake your head. “Are ridiculous.”

“Ah, but you love us,” Blake grins. 

“Unfortunately,” you tease. “But okay, I’ll do my best. No work. No thinking about work. I’ll try and focus on being in the present.” 

“Maybe you can meditate,” Ryan calls out. “You know, Hugh swears by it.” 

Hugh. The mere mention of his name makes your heart flutter and you subconsciously bite your lower lip. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Blake who tries to bite back a smile. 

“Yeah, maybe.” You stand up and then motion towards the bathroom, excusing yourself from both Blake, Ryan, and their kids. 

Blake then turns to Ryan and grins. She whispers very quietly. “I think it’s going to work.” 

“I sure hope so. Neither of them have any clue what we’re trying to do.” 

“You’ve seen it. I’ve seen it. They’re the only ones who haven’t seen it,” Blake says. 

“Oh, Hugh’s seen it,” Ryan winks. 

Blake chuckles. “Well, let’s see how this trip goes.”

“If it all goes well, they’ll be leaving together,” Ryan replies. 

—

You’ve been in Hawaii for three days now. You’ve possibly spent every moment with Ryan and his family since arriving. You didn’t mind though. Being in their company helped keep your mind away from work, away from the responsibilities that await you at home, away from Hugh. Today, though, Ryan and Blake want to spend the day at a secluded beach to allow their kids to roam free and have fun without worrying about possible paparazzi. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a deep blue bikini set – a halter triangle top tied at the base of your neck and back, and a cheeky bottom with side ties that rest on the side of your hips – with a white, long sleeve cover-up. You take a few pictures of yourself, wanting to send it to Hugh or even post it on social media, but you don’t. Instead, you turn off your phone and set it inside your bag before you leave your room to meet Ryan and the family. 

Throughout the entire ride to the island, Ryan and Blake can’t keep their eyes off of you. You busy yourself, though, with playing with their kids, hearing their laughter fill the car. You can tell they’re excited, jumping up and down in their seats as they talk amongst one another about the things they’ll do once they get to the beach. 

It isn’t until you all arrive at the beach and climb out that you notice another car in the lot. Ryan had mentioned before that it would just be his family and you, so you had to wonder if maybe he had gotten something wrong along the way of planning this. But if you were concerned about it, he certainly didn’t show it himself. Instead, he climbs out of the car and grabs the kids’ bags from the trunk before he and Blake motion for you to follow them onto the beach. Your toes hit the sand as you slide your sunglasses on your face. You tell Ryan and Blake that you’ll be at a distance, allowing them at least some time to spend with their kids without you and it gives you enough time to try and meditate. Maybe it will work, you tell yourself. 

You don’t see anyone else nearby and you’re at a good distance from Ryan and Blake, so you set down your towel and bag, removing your cover-up and sunglasses. You make sure to reapply more sunscreen before you walk towards the water. It’s cold and it causes a shiver to run down your spine, so you force yourself to dive in to get acclimated to the temperature of the water. 

The beach had always calmed you down, kept you grounded. It was one of the reasons why you had been so hesitant to leave your hometown of California. From one side of the coast to another. Once you come back up, you run your hands through your wet hair, slicking it back away from your face as you stand, the water only reaching your upper thighs. When you open your eyes, though, your jaw drops. 

Hugh is within a few arms reach as his eyes meet yours. The surprise look on his face tells you all that you need to know. 

He had no idea you would be here.

And neither did you. 

You can’t help but let your eyes take in his frame. His broad chest, water trickling down his frame, disappearing into the waistband of his black board shorts. He’s pulling his shorts up just a bit, but it gives you a good view of the v-cut he has and immediately, you’re aware of the feeling between your legs.

But just like you’re checking him out, Hugh’s also allowing his eyes to roam over your frame. The bikini you’re wearing is so tiny and tight around your frame. He tries to tell himself not to get excited at the mere sight of you, but it’s hard. He’s getting hard, so he does his best to think of other things that could lessen his excitement. 

Since his divorce, Hugh had taken comfort in your presence. What started out as a friendship turned partnership had blossomed into something else. Surely, you felt it too. Or at least that’s what he told himself. 

“Hello, you,” he calls out. 

The both of you begin walking towards each other, meeting in the middle as the waves crash around you. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you say softly. Out of instinct, you reach out to give him a hug, warms snaking around his shoulders. This feels good, hugging him like this feels fucking great. You feel his hard chest and hair against you. He’s so wet, so slick and you just want to–

“I think Ryan may have forgotten to tell us both,” Hugh says, voice deep and husky against your ear as his arms wrap around your waist. Hugh shuts his eyes as he feels your breasts against him, his fingertips resting just above your backside and he feels his manhood stir awake. 

Quickly, Hugh pulls away, slowly lowering himself in the water to cover the growing erection between his legs and also to keep some distance between your bodies. You do the same, swimming further into the water as you both continue to float. 

“And Blake,” you add. “You think it was intentional? You ask, turning to look over your shoulder to see both Ryan and Blake staring at the both of you. 

Hugh looks over at them and lets out a quiet chuckle. “Dunno,” he answers. “But I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Me too,” you blush, heat rising in your cheeks. “How long– How long have you been here?”

“Three days.”

“Those fuckers,” you chuckle. “They totally set this up.”

Hugh laughs alongside you and tilts his head in amusement. He watches you closely, seeing you gnaw at your lower lip nervously (it’s something he’s noticed about you very early on). You bring your hand up to stroke your hair back away from your face and Hugh can’t help but smile to himself. He likes you. Really likes you and he knows that he shouldn’t act on it, knows that there should be some boundary, but he can’t help himself. 

“You nervous?” he asks quietly. 

“What?” you answer, looking up at him. “No…”

“You’re doin’ that thing you do,” Hugh points out. He gently reaches out and runs the pad of his thumb along your lower lip, causing you to release it between your teeth. 

“What thing?” 

“You know what thing,” he chuckles, slowly swimming closer to you. “You bite your lower lip a lot when you get nervous or when you’re deep in thought. So, you’re either nervous or you’re thinkin’ about somethin’. Which is it?”

“Neither,” you lie. 

Hugh narrows his eyes slowly and drags his thumb at the center of your lower lip and down to your chin until he hooks it in his grasp. “Now, I know you’re not someone who lies,” he begins, moving his thumb across your jawline. “Don’t tell me you’re lying now.”

“I’m both,” you blurt out, leaning against his touch. “I’m nervous and I’m thinking about something.”

“You’re always thinking about something,” Hugh points out. “Do I…” he asks hesitantly and drops his hand back into the water. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Right now you are.”

“Why?” 

“Because…” you whisper, looking deeply into his eyes. “One, we’re both basically half naked.”

“We’re at a beach,” he says with a small smile. “We’re in our bathing suits.”

“Half naked,” you correct. “And two, you’re just–” you stop yourself and drop your eyes to his lips then back up to gaze into his eyes. You then remember what Blake told you. Try to have some fun. Be open. Let loose. Now, you understand exactly what she meant by that. So, you let out a shaky breath and continue. “You’re just so fucking hot, Hugh, and yes, you’re making me nervous because you’re literally shirtless and wet, and you’re muscular and it’s just–”

Hugh’s laughter interrupts your rambling. You notice the way his nose crinkles upwards when the laughter comes deep within the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, you’re very aware that you just made a fool out of yourself and you gently shove him. 

“It’s not funny! You asked and so I told you. I was being honest!” 

“I’m not–” he sighs, his laughter dying down. “I’m not laughing at you, baby.” The term slips past his lips so effortlessly and he reaches out from underneath the water to grab a hold of your hip, pulling you to him. “I’m laughing because you think I’m hot to a point that you’re stuttering over your words. Have you seen yourself?” The smile remains on his lips and his thumb begins to rub circles at your hip. “Because if anyone should be nervous, it’s me.”

“You?” 

“Oh, come on,” he says. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that I’ve got the biggest crush on ya.” 

“Wait, you what?” your eyes slightly widen in surprise, but you can’t help the way your stomach flips in excitement. 

“I’ve got a crush on ya,” he whispers. “And I shouldn’t even be having crushes at this age,” Hugh chuckles nervously. “But I do. I like you.”

“You’re not joking?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Because you can have literally anyone you want and–”

“I want you.” Hugh says, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “Do you want me to?” 

“More than you fucking know, Hugh.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your lips against him. You sigh against him moving your legs to wrap around his waist underneath the water as you move your lips against his own. 

Hugh growls against you, both hands moving to your hips as he leans further into you, tilting his head to get a better angle of your lips. He didn’t realize this was how his trip was going to go. After Ryan convinced him to take some time off, especially after the success of their movie together, he was hesitant. He didn’t want to take time off. He was used to being busy, especially after his divorce, but Hugh had only agreed to come on the trip to figure out his feelings for you. 

He just didn’t realize that you’d be here too. 

In the distance, you and Hugh can hear a faint clapping and hollering. You both pull away to look over at the noise and see Blake, Ryan, and their kids jump up in excitement, cheering for the both of you. You see them wave in your direction before they begin to grab their things, making their way back to the parking lot. You then look at Hugh and gaze into his eyes.

“Are they leaving us? Leaving me?” You ask. 

“I can take you back,” Hugh says softly. 

You bite your lower lip and nod. “Only if it isn’t–”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if our hotel rooms are right next to each other,” Hugh chuckles, slowly then moving his hands down as he grasps your backside in his large hands, pulling you flush against him. His gaze darkens as he stares into your eyes. He thinks maybe he might have moved too fast, but when you roll your hips against him, he knows exactly what’s going to happen next. 

You want him just as bad as he does. 

“Hugh,” you whisper, voice laced with desire. “Please.” 

“Tell me, baby.”

“I need you.” You bury your face in the side of his neck and gently nip at his skin, feeling his hands move under you, his long fingers brushing against your core as it causes you to gasp. 

Hugh’s painfully hard against his board shorts and he lets out a low groan when he feels your teeth scrape against the skin at his neck. He feels you squirming against him, moaning into his ear and he has to pull away briefly to look into your eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“If I have to say please one more time…”

“I don’t mind hearin’ you beg,” he winks. “Come on.” Hugh leads you out of the water and towards his towel in a much more secluded area. You drift from him for a moment to grab your things before following him, watching him lay out his towel before he takes a seat on it, legs spread wide. 

You bite your lower lip and lay out your towel in front of him, dropping to your knees as you crawl towards him until you're seated on your knees between his legs. “We won’t get in trouble, will we?”

Hugh shrugs, reaching down to cup your cheek. “Don’t think so. Ryan made sure that no one but us should be here and–”

“That’s good enough for me.” You lean down and move your hands to the waistband of his board shorts. He’s dripping wet from the water and you can see the outline of his length perfectly due to his shorts sticking to him. You hook your fingers into the waistband and slowly pull it down enough to see his length spring free. Hugh lets out a low groan of relief and reaches behind you to undo the knot at the base of your neck. Once loose, he watches your top fall open to reveal your breasts. He doesn’t have enough time to take in your newly exposed chest because your hand wraps around his base, soft lips grazing the head of his manhood. 

“Ah, baby,” he growls, moving a hand to your shoulder, gripping it tightly as your mouth wraps around his tip. Hugh shuts his eyes and tosses his head back, moving one hand to rest on the towel while the other remains on your shoulder. 

You look up at him, feeling an immediate possessiveness wash over you. He looks so beautiful like this, eyes shut, chest heaving, and at your mercy. 

You begin to stroke his base as your tongue swirls around his tip, lapping at his precum. His groans slowly become louder as you lower your head to take more of him, stroking his base when you realize you can’t take him whole. He’s larger than you expected, girthy and long, and it excites you. As you continue to stroke him in time with sucking his length, you feel Hugh’s hand move from your shoulder to the back of your head as his hips slightly lift itself. He pushes himself further into your mouth, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly. 

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes opening to look down at you. God, Hugh can just come at the sight of you. Tears slightly stinging the corners of your eyes and your mouth stuffed full of him. What a beautiful fucking sight, he thinks.

Slowly, Hugh has to pull away from you because he feels the pit of his stomach tightening, searching for release. He lets out a low growl that reverberates through his chest and you lean up on your knees, licking your lips. Hugh reaches out for you and pulls you on his lap, hurriedly moving your bikini bottom to the side. He grasps his manhood and runs his tip along your length, feeling your wetness coat him with each movement.

“You’re wet for me?” he asks, eyes staring up at you. 

“Only for you.” you reply, eyes fluttering as you feel his tip slowly push into you. He releases his hold on his length and rests his hand on your hip, leaning down to press soft kisses against your chest before he moves onto a breast, flicking his tongue against your nipple repeatedly before he wraps his lips around it. 

You let out a loud moan, moving your hands to his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your walls tight and wet sliding down his cock. You feel so full of him and he’s not yet fully in the hilt. The stretch is almost painful, but you’re so wet and throbbing that you have to stop yourself from slamming down onto him. 

“Oh god, Hugh,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders as you move along his length, not yet allowing him to fill you to the hilt as your walls begin to make way for him. 

Hugh moves his lips to your other breast, eyes staring up at you. He wants more of you, needs more of you so he slowly lifts his hips, inching further within your depths. 

“Shit,” he groans, watching as his cock disappears into you completely. Hugh’s hands rest over your hips as you pull him closer to you, chests pressed against one another as you slowly roll your hips against his. “So fucking tight, baby,” he whispers against you, forehead resting on yours. 

“You’re–” you gasp, feeling his hair at the base brush against your clit as you continue your movements. “So big,” you moan, eyes falling shut. 

Hugh gently pecks your lips and takes a hold of your hips to guide you along his length. He watches you reach for his cowboy hat, placing it on top of your head and Hugh has to force himself to hold back his release. 

“You’re so hot,” he moans, allowing you to take control of your movements. Hugh can’t help the way your walls tighten around his cock – you’re so warm and wet, so inviting and tight. He knows he’s close, but he can’t– he can’t finish without you finishing first. 

“Baby,” Hugh whimpers, holding you flush against him in a tight grip. “Don’t– Fuck, baby, don’t move.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, hands moving to link at the base of his neck. “You can come, Hugh.”

“No,” he shakes his head, losing his resolve as your hips move forward and backward slowly. “You have to be first– Shit…”

“This won’t be the only time,” you say reassuringly, lightly pecking his lips. You then increase your movements, hips moving forward and backward at a faster pace. Hugh’s so deep in this position and you know you’re close, but you’re determined to have Hugh finish before you. 

“Sweetheart,” Hugh grunts. “Baby, I’m–” His eyes flutter shut as he lets out a loud groan, mouth slightly agape as his fingertips dig almost painfully into your hips. His release shoots inside of you, painting your walls as his manhood throbs within your depths. 

He’s still half hard and you take this moment to begin bouncing along his length, using your hand to reach down between you to rub your clit and Hugh’s eyes narrow. He pushes your hand away and rubs your clit with his thumb in a circular motion. 

Hugh feels possessive and almost animalistic at the sight of you using him to get yourself off. He can feel your walls begin to tremble and he’s still a bit sensitive, but you just feel so fucking good. 

“Come on, baby,” he coos, applying pressure to your clit. “I know you’re there. Come for me, sweetheart.”

That’s all it took. Your walls tighten around his length as your body trembles against him. Hugh moves his hand to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning up to press his lips against yours. He’s still inside of you, his length softening as the moment passes. 

You move your lips lazily against his, heavy breaths passing through the both of you as Hugh pulls back slowly. “Wanna head back to the hotel?” he grins. 

“Oh, hell yeah.” 

[lovelake]

If words of reassurance alone can’t cure your boyfriend’s jealousy, maybe throwing in a makeout session can help.

solivan brugmansia x gn!reader | MDNI, 1.5k wc, kissing, jealousy, brief mention of him kissing reader while they're drugged so non-consensual touching, mentions of masturbation, he ends up cumming in his pants, let there be no typos

note: hi so i’m kind of obsessed with him </3 comments and reblogs are always appreciated! title is from the song ‘snakelike (the stars collide)’

masterlist read on ao3 requests open

“You’ve been quieter than usual.”

No response. You knew your boyfriend wasn’t rowdy, but the walk to your house after leaving campus was always filled with enjoyable chit chats at the very least. Tugging on his sleeve, your feet came to a pause as you turned to him.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, please?”

God knew he couldn’t deny his sweetheart’s plea, not in a million years.

“Ichabod.” Okay, so there was some venom in his voice. Just a little. He had to hold back from not seething the name out like it was a slur.

You knew they didn’t exactly get along. Crowe was friendly towards everyone, but Sol seemed reluctant to be polite to him. Every time they were in the same space, you kinda wanted to die to avoid the awkwardness of the tension. 

“Crowe? What about him?”

“He obviously likes you.” And he knew you liked him back at one point, he’d been watching you for a long time. And though you've been a couple for three weeks now, the uncertainty of it all still hadn’t left.

He trusted you. Your best friend on the other hand…well, not so much. If only you knew how extreme his jealousy could be—you were lucky Crowe wasn’t six feet under already. It would only take one mistake for you to be attending a funeral. It’s fine, he’d be there to console you. Nonono, bad Sol, don’t even think about it. 

“What?! No he doesn’t!” Maybe you shouldn’t be raising your voice, he seemed upset enough as is. You sighed, muttering an apology before continuing. “We’ve been friends for years, I seriously don’t think he sees me like that. And even if he did…you’re my boyfriend. So he’d just have to deal with it, I guess.”

Oh. He liked that answer. Ichabod suffering emotionally because his dream lover was out of reach? It was a wet dream come true.

Taking a peek at him, you noticed the upturn of his lips. “That certainly made you cheer up.”

“You always make me happy, pumpkin. I just don’t like him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t.”

“That’s not a good reason. He’s my friend and he’s important to me, so can you at least try to act civil around him? He always tries to talk to you and you just…glare at him.”

Now he was a little scared. Biting down on his lip, he mulled over your request. The last thing he wanted was for you to break up with him after he had finally won you over against all odds. “Fine, I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” you held onto his hand and gave it a squeeze, one that he returned as you both started walking again.

Three blocks and a flight of stairs later, the comfort of your apartment lured you both to the couch, backpacks discarded onto the floor without care. He sat right next to you, and you curled up against him, pulling your phone out your pocket.

“We always come to my house, I wanna see what yours looks like too.” 

“I like your house more but…sure, just let me know what day.” Yeah, so he had time to hide everything he’d stolen from you. 

Ding. 

His eyes flicked to the notification with a certain someone’s profile picture. His expression soured, and he looked away with a petulant huff. Clearly, he wasn’t over it. Not that he’d ever be, but you thought it was just a phase that would go away with some reassurance. How naive of you.

“Sol…”

He wasn’t budging, nose in the air as he waited for you to read the message. Or well, that’s what he was expecting anyway. 

“You’re so stubborn.” With a sigh, you toss your phone aside and instead move to straddle his lap to get his attention. 

His shoulders stiffened immediately, and a certain area under his pants sprung to life like clockwork. He gulped, the tips of his ears turning red. He loved being under you, but that usually only happened in his fantasies late at night when he stroked himself with your undergarments.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Cupping his face with one hand, you let your thumb glide over his bottom lip. “I can’t have you getting jealous every other minute.”

“I can’t help it.” He murmured, arms finally relaxing and wrapping around your waist to tug you closer. Having you close wasn’t anything new, he was clingy to the core. It always felt different when you initiated it, though. 

“I know…I just don’t want you feeling bad or insecure. I like you, I want to be with you.”

He grinned. “You promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

Godyou’resosweetandbeautifulandfuckIwantyoutofuckme. From 0 to 100. His mind was already running rampant. You were sitting on him so prettily, how did he get this lucky? His eyes were drawn to your lips, his stomach felt warm now. 

“Tell me I’m yours and that you’re mine.”

You really shouldn’t encourage his possessive behavior, but it was kinda…hot? You’d play along.

You leaned down, lips nearly brushing against his. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

His dick twitched. Before he had the chance to sigh dreamily, you kissed him. He whimpered pitifully and kissed back, already attempting to deepen it. 

He had thought about getting a tongue piercing, but he wouldn’t be able to go weeks without kissing you now that he’d gotten a taste of what it was like. Though, maybe that torture would be worth it if it meant being able to make you feel good in the future.

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Then, a bombardment of kisses a day must keep the psychologist away, it felt like all your problems had been washed away the minute your tongue met his. 

His hands roamed your sides, squeezing whenever you tugged on his hair or bit down on his lip. In only five minutes, it went from slow and sensual to fast and needy. 

Your living room was only ever filled with TV noises and conversations. Now, it was nothing but heavy breathing, shaky whines, and the sound of clothes rubbing against each other.

And shit—no, no, no—he was close to making a mess in his pants. “Waitwaitwait, slow down,” he pleaded, voice a pitch higher as he held onto your hips. How embarrassing would it be if he came so quickly from simply kissing? Maybe you’d think he’d only last two fucking seconds in bed (he probably would the first time, and he knew that). 

“What’s wrong?” You ask breathlessly, eyes fluttering open to look at your boyfriend. 

“Nothing, just…” He sat up straighter so he could dip his head down and press his lips against your neck. It felt infinitely better than doing so when you were limp like a ragdoll. 

“Oh,” your eyes rolled back, your hand instinctively went to the back of his head to keep him in place. His cool piercings sent a shiver down your hot skin. Maybe if your mind wasn’t so busy spinning and seeing stars, you’d notice the ever so prominent bulge begging for attention against the side of your inner thigh. 

“Does this feel good?” He asked before starting to gently suck on you. If he was lucky, he’d mark you up. For once, he was eager to see Crowe tomorrow. He’d be sure to wrap his arm around your shoulder and then lean down to press a kiss against the hickey you’d have after all this just to spite him.

“Uh huh…” Your sweet moans fanned against his ear.

He thought this would save him from cumming, but your reactions were just making it worse. There was no way out of it. His stomach was tensing, and his eyes were getting teary—this always happened. “Haa….haaa…”

For someone who usually had little to say, he was so loud. But you didn’t know what was happening in his body, not until it was too late.

“Oh fuck…” His forehead rested against your shoulder as his body shook, black nails digging into you like he needed you close to handle the waves of pleasure. Luckily for him, his words were unintelligible because of how fast he gritted it out. “Iloveyouiloveyoufuckiloveyou.”

You snapped out of your pleasure-induced dazed, hearing him pant heavily and slump against you. You stayed frozen, and moments later, he tipped his head back instead to get air.

“Did you just…” 

Pressing your hands against his chest, you leaned back to get a better look. He did. Fuck he was pretty. Cheeks flushed. Lips swollen. Drool trickling down his chin. Brows furrowed. Eyelashes wet from tears.

You’d never been more turned on in your life. You hadn’t even touched him down there!

He opened his eyes, hiding his face with his shaky hand the second he saw you. “Fuck…I didn’t mean to. I was trying not to.”

You took his hand to pull it away, smiling at him. Geez, it was like you were proud of yourself, and he found it endearing rather than annoying.

“Um…I don’t think I have any spare pants for you. Or uh, you know.”

“…”

“I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“No, don’t leave yet.”

“I’m not leaving! The kitchen is literally right there.”

“Stay here.” He held you close, burying his head against your shoulder again and letting his temperature return to normal.

“Fine…”

[featjunranghae]

Fatherhood - Lee Jeno

summary: when jeno's girlfriend left him to deal with fatherhood alone. he decided he'd never let anyone in his or his daughter's life. that was until he met you. his neighbour whom his daughter seemed to love way too much

warning: suggestive at the end

last part of the three part series

part one || part two || nct masterlist

Just Like That, a Year Passed

The seasons changed, days blending into weeks, weeks into months—until, just like that, a year had passed.

The air was thick with summer heat, windows open as you sat on the cool floor of Jeno’s living room. Jiwoo was nestled between you and Jeno, her small legs stretched out as the three of you shared a bowl of strawberry ice cream. It had melted slightly, but neither of you minded. Jiwoo kicked her feet happily, enjoying the moment with her father and her... the title was still unknown for you.

You scooped another spoonful and turned to Jiwoo with a teasing smile. “Baby, what do you want for your birthday?”

Jiwoo tilted her head, deep in thought, before her face lit up. “I want a pony.”

Jeno nearly dropped his spoon. “A pony?” He poked her cheek, raising a brow. “Where exactly do you think we’re gonna keep a pony, huh?”

Jiwoo shrugged innocently. “In the house.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe you’d like a birthday party instead?”

“No. I want a pony.” Jiwoo turned to you, eyes wide and pleading as she batted her lashes. “Ynnie, won’t you get me a pony?”

You snorted, ruffling her hair. “Baby, if I could, I would.”

“I miss when she couldn’t talk,” Jeno mumbled dramatically.

Jiwoo huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Daddy’s mean.”

Jeno grinned, wrapping an arm around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Okay, okay, princess. We’ll see what we can do about that pony.”

The conversation drifted into easy laughter, and for a moment, everything felt warm—comforting in a way you never thought possible.

And then your phone buzzed. Absentmindedly, you glanced down at the screen, and the notification made your stomach flutter.

Jungwoo.

The guy you had met at the hospital where you were interning. He was nice. Sweet. And from the beginning, he had made his interest in you clear. Kun.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you picked up your phone, fingers hovering over the screen.

“Who are you texting?”

Jeno’s voice cut through the moment, and when you looked up, you found him staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

You hesitated before answering, “Just Kun.”

Jeno’s brow furrowed. “Who’s Kun?”

Jiwoo, who had been quietly observing, perked up with interest. “Yeah, who’s Kun?” She scooted closer, trying to peek at your phone.

You pulled up Kun's profile picture and showed it to her. “He’s my friend.”

Jiwoo blinked at the screen. Then, with all the innocence of a child, she asked, “Is he your boyfriend?”

You choked on air.

“N-No, baby,” you sputtered, cheeks warming. “He’s just a guy friend. He's doing residency in the hospital I'm working at.”

Jiwoo tilted her head, as if processing the new information. Meanwhile, Jeno’s expression darkened slightly.

“So…” Jeno's gaze snapped toward the clock, and something in his posture stiffened. “Why is Kun texting you at… 11 in the night?”

Jiwoo joined along. “Yeah,” she said. “Why is he texting you this late?”

You rolled your eyes at Jeno. “11 isn’t even that late.”

“Not the point, YN."

His tone held that strictness he usually reserved for when Jiwoo was being difficult, and something about it made irritation bubble up inside you.

You huffed, placing your phone beside you. “We’ve just been talking, okay? He asked me on a date.”

Jeno’s spoon hit the table with a soft clatter.

“He what—”

“What’s a date?” Jiwoo asked, looking between you both.

Jeno barely heard her. His focus was locked on you, an odd look crossing his face. “What did you say?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous under his stare. “I said yes.”

The words felt heavier than they should.

You weren’t even sure why you said yes. A part of you knew your heart wasn’t in the right place. But another part—the rational part—reminded you that it didn’t matter. Jeno had made it clear from the very beginning that he wasn’t looking to date. That after what happened with Jiwoo’s mother, he had no interest in relationships.

So what were you supposed to do? Sit around and wait for something that was never going to happen?

“I just…” You exhaled, forcing a lighthearted laugh. “I just want to put myself out there again. It’s been a year since I last dated, and I think—”

“There’s nothing wrong with staying single,” Jeno cut in sharply.

You blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden edge in his tone. “Yeah, but there’s also nothing wrong with dating.” You crossed your arms.

“Kun’s a great guy. I’m sure you’ll like him when you meet him.”

Jeno scoffed. “Oh, I bet I will.”

He pushed himself up from the floor abruptly, his movements stiff as he grabbed the empty ice cream bowl and stormed into the kitchen.

You stared after him, frustration bubbling in your chest.

“What is your problem?” You followed him, watching as he slammed the bowl into the sink with more force than necessary. “I don’t understand why you’re upset about this.”

“I’m not upset,” Jeno said, voice clipped.

“Then what’s with the attitude?”

He didn’t answer.

And that’s what made your chest tighten the most.

Because if Jeno was mad—if he really had a problem with this—then shouldn’t he just say it?

But he wouldn’t.

Because there was nothing to say.

Because you already knew the answer.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. "You're acting weird-"

Jeno’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the sink. He exhaled through his nose, still not looking at you.

Finally, he muttered, “Do whatever you want. who am I to judge?”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “Fine,” you whispered. “I will.”

You turned on your heel, walking back toward the living room.

Jiwoo was still sitting on the couch, too tired to say anything, but her big, round eyes followed you carefully.

You plastered on a smile. “Come on, baby, let’s get you to bed.”

She didn’t say anything, but she reached out for you without hesitation.

As you carried her to her room, you tried to ignore the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen. You tried to ignore the way your heart ached in your chest.

Because at the end of the day, this was always how it was going to be.

Jeno wasn’t yours.

And you couldn’t keep pretending otherwise.

—

You weren’t nervous.

Kun was a great guy—sweet, considerate, and easy to be around. He made you feel comfortable in ways that were refreshing. There was no tension, no uncertainty. You two met at the hospital. He was a busy guy but always seemed to make time for you. For everyone. As you curled your lashes and dabbed on a final touch of lip gloss, something gnawed at the back of your mind, something you refused to acknowledge.

Your phone buzzed.

Jeno: You left your AirPods. Should I drop them off before work?

You exhaled through your nose, ignoring the way your stomach twisted at the sight of his name.

You: That’d be great. Thanks.

Karina, ever the best friend, helped you get ready. She styled your hair, the two of you sifting through your closet until you settled on the perfect outfit—a short, pink sundress that hugged you in all the right places. It was cute, flirty. The neckline dipped slightly, just enough to show off your collarbones and the barest hint of cleavage.

“Trust me,” Karina had said when you hesitated. “It’s the perfect balance of cute and hot. Kun will go crazy for you."

And you did feel beautiful.

Almost.

The doorbell rang.

Karina was still in the bathroom, so you hurried to answer it, smoothing down the fabric of your dress.

Jeno stood on the other side, his hand tucked in his pocket, your AirPods in the other. His gaze landed on you, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

He looked at you.

And then he looked at you.

You saw the way his eyes swept over your frame, taking in the soft pink of your dress, the way it hugged your curves. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and suddenly, you felt self-conscious. Jeno had never looked at you like that before.

He cleared his throat, handing you the AirPods.

“Thanks,” you muttered, shifting on your feet. Then, with a nervous laugh, you added, “At least tell me how I look.”

Jeno exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

“You always look pretty, YN,” he said, voice quieter this time. Then, before you could respond, he muttered, “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

You stood frozen in the doorway, heart hammering in your chest. You tried not to let it affect your mood. Tried not to read into it. Tried to ignore the way his words settled deep in your bones.

Kun showed up—right on time, looking effortlessly handsome, a bouquet of flowers in his hands and a charming smile on his face.

“You look absolutely stunning, YN.”

His words were perfect. The kind any girl would swoon over. But somehow, they didn’t make your heart flutter the way Jeno’s did.

—

The date was perfect.

Kun held your hand. He pulled out your chair, paid for everything, showered you with compliments. He was attentive, kind, the very definition of a gentleman.

And yet…

The entire time, a part of you felt like a fraud. Because Kun deserved someone who looked at him the way you looked at Jeno.

Someone whose heart raced at his touch, not someone else’s.

Someone who wasn’t still tangled in unspoken feelings for a man who would never be hers.

—

By the time Kun walked you to your apartment, the weight of your thoughts had settled deep in your chest.

“Is this the part where I kiss you goodnight?” he teased with a smile.

You let out a slow breath.

You couldn’t do this.

“Kun…” Your voice was soft, hesitant. “I have to tell you something.”

His expression didn’t falter. He just waited, his hands tucked into his pockets as if he already knew what you were going to say.

“I…” You swallowed. “I’m so sorry. You’re such a great guy. But I don’t think I can do this.”

A beat of silence.

“Is it because of Jeno?”

You blinked, startled.

Kun’s smile remained, but there was no bitterness behind it, no resentment, just quiet understanding.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. There was no use lying.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

But you did.

You did know.

Kun nodded, as if he had expected this. “It’s okay, pretty,” he said gently. “I get it. You’ve told me about your history. I don’t blame you.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he chuckled, nudging your arm. “At least you didn’t lead me on. And we had a nice date.” He tilted his head, smirking. “I like talking to you, you know. We can just stay friends.”

A relieved breath left your lips. “Really?”

“Of course.” His eyes softened. “I’d rather keep you in my life than pretend to be something we’re not.”

Your heart ached, but not in the way you thought it would. Kun was too good for this world.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around him in a grateful hug. “You’re too nice for this world.”

“I know, I know,” he teased. “I get that a lot.”

You pulled back with a playful eye roll.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I haven’t been on a date in so long. It felt… nice.”

His grin widened. “Well, maybe I can take you on platonic dates sometimes. My ass hasn’t been on a date in a while either.”

You laughed. “Why not?”

He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “See you at work, pretty.”

As he walked away, you let out a long exhale.

Tonight should have been a new beginning.

But somehow, it just felt like a confirmation of something you had been trying to ignore all along.

It was always going to be Jeno...

—

Jeno had been awake all night.

Just two blocks away from you, sleep had refused to come, no matter how much he willed it. You had promised to text him after your date. But you didn’t.

Did it go bad? Did it go well?

Did it go too well?

“Jeno, you’re not paying attention!”

Haechan’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, irritation laced in his tone as his character got ambushed on the TV screen. Jaemin sighed in frustration as Jeno’s character died, causing them to lose the game.

Jeno barely cared.

He threw the controller onto the couch and got up, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m done.”

“Dude, what’s up with you?” Haechan groaned, but Jeno was already walking away.

He entered his room to find Jiwoo curled up in her blankets, her small chest rising and falling steadily. He smiled softly, stepping closer—until he noticed the slight dampness in her hair, the way her forehead shone with sweat. His heart clenched as he pressed the back of his hand against her skin. Too warm.

His stomach dropped.

He quickly grabbed the medicine and carefully pulled her into his arms, trying to get her to drink. She winced at the taste but didn't fight back.

"Call me if anything ever goes wrong."

Your voice echoed in his mind.

But was this serious enough? Was it worth calling you over something that could pass in a few hours?

No. Jiwoo would be fine.

Right?

—

Over the next few days, Jeno barely saw you. Apparently, you had come over while he was at work—at least, that’s what his roommates told him.

Was the date that good? So good that you didn’t even want to see him anymore?

The thought made his chest tighten.

By the time he returned home from work that evening, exhaustion clung to his bones. Everything seemed fine until dinner.

Jiwoo was fussy, refusing to eat, her small whimpers turning into tired cries. Then her temperature spiked. Then she threw up.

Jeno’s hands shook as he held her. He tried sponging her down, feeding her medicine. Nothing worked.

It was past midnight when it finally hit him—Jiwoo needed to go to the hospital.

“Try calling a cab,” Jaemin said, rapidly scrolling through his phone to look for an Uber as well.

Haechan cursed under his breath. “No drivers are in the area. I hate being broke,” he muttered, running a hand down his face.

Jaemin glanced at Jeno. “Did you call YN?”

Jeno hesitated.

Why hadn’t he?

Was it because of the petty part of him that didn’t want to need you? Or was it because you had a good date, and he didn’t want to insert himself into your life when you were moving on?

Either way, this wasn’t about him.

This was about Jiwoo.

Jaemin took out his phone and called you. You showed up almost immediately.

You didn’t even hesitate.

Dressed in your pajamas, you rang the doorbell, hair slightly messy from sleep, but your eyes were worried. “Where is she?”

Jeno barely had time to process the warmth in his chest before you were rushing past him into his room.

Jiwoo was curled into his arms, her face flushed, eyes barely open.

“Oh, baby…” Your voice broke as you crouched beside them, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead. Jiwoo slowly lifted her eyes to you, her lip wobbling.

"How didn’t I notice you feeling bad?" Your voice was filled with guilt. "I'm so sorry, baby…"

Jeno swallowed.

“How do we take her to the hospital?” Haechan asked.

“Kun’s coming over. He just finished his shift—he’ll be here in ten.”

Jeno tensed.

Kun?

True to your word, Kun arrived, still in his apron from work. He looked tired, but his concern was evident as Jeno relayed all the symptoms.

“Seems like summer flu,” Kun murmured, jotting down a list of medicines. “Make sure she stays hydrated. The heat is bad—try to keep her cool, and make sure she eats well. Bad weather. The hospital is full of sick kids.”

He knelt in front of Jiwoo, giving her a gentle smile. “You’ll be better in no time, sweetheart.”

Jeno watched from the sidelines, jaw clenched.

Kun was everything a woman could ever want. He had a car. He was in residency. He came from a wealthy family. he has his whole life planned out.

He was perfect.

And Jeno?

Jeno was struggling to make ends meet. Juggling between work and taking care of his daughter. He didn't know what he was gonna do in the future.

Why wouldn’t you pick someone like Kun over him?

Jeno stared as you hugged Kun goodbye, watched as he took Haechan with him to buy the medicine.

He couldn’t breathe.

—

You let out a heavy sigh as you stepped back into Jeno’s room.

Jiwoo was still in his arms, small fingers curled into his shirt. Even now, even when she was sick, she clung to him.

Jeno’s grip on her tightened.

He was afraid to let go.

Afraid to fail her.

“This isn’t your fault,” you murmured.

Jeno looked at you, startled.

Almost as if you had read his mind.

You sat beside him, running your fingers gently over Jiwoo’s cheek. The little girl stirred at your touch, her eyelashes fluttering weakly.

“…Mommy…”

The word was soft. A whisper.

But it might as well have been an explosion. Jeno stiffened. His arms went rigid around Jiwoo’s tiny body.

He looked at you.

You looked at him.

Shock flickered across your face. You blinked rapidly, as if unsure whether you had even heard it correctly.

“She…” You swallowed. “She must’ve said it by accident.”

Jeno nodded numbly, but his mind was spinning. No one had ever taught Jiwoo that word. she had never had someone to call "Mommy" before.

And yet, she had chosen you.

Jeno’s throat felt tight.

It made sense.

Of course Jiwoo called you Mommy. Who else, besides him, had ever shown her this much love? Who else had taken care of her the way you did?

And in that moment, it hit Jeno like a truck.

He couldn’t lose you.

Not only for Jiwoo’s sake.

Not for his own.

But bcause he needed you.

Your warmth. Your presence. The way you made everything feel lighter, even when the world felt suffocating.

He had been so afraid of love. So terrified of risking it, of letting himself feel.

But if it meant losing you?

If it meant watching you walk away—watching you choose someone else? That was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

He had to do something.

—

Jiwoo got better quickly after following Kun’s instructions.

Soon enough, she was back to her bubbly self, talking nonstop about her birthday plans. Jeno wouldn’t have it any other way.

He took two days off work just to be with her.

And you… you had started coming around again.

Everything seemed to go back to how it used to be. The laughter, the comfort, the easy presence of you in his life. But Jeno knew better.

It wasn’t the same. Not for him.

Because now, he knew the truth. He knew that he needed you. And he couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

That night, the dorm was quiet.

Haechan was out of town, and Jaemin had gone out with friends. Jiwoo had fallen asleep hours ago, her tiny arms wrapped around her favorite stuffed bunny.

That left just you and Jeno.

You were in the kitchen, moving around comfortably, completely at home in his space as you made something for both of you to eat. Jeno leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you.

You didn’t have to be here.

You could’ve gone home.

But you were here.

With him.

"You're staring," you said without looking up.

"Can we talk?" Jeno asked.

That made you pause. You turned to him, brows raised. "Of course. What's up?"

Jeno exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. His heart was racing. This was absurd. So absurd.

But he had to say it.

"I… I want you to stop seeing Kun."

Silence.

You didn’t say anything.

Jeno’s stomach twisted. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. Maybe this would ruin everything—

But there was no going back now.

"He's a great guy," Jeno admitted, voice rough. "You were right about that. But I don’t care. I don’t want you to see him anymore."

You blinked. "Why not?"

Jeno’s throat tightened. His fingers curled against the counter. "Because I can't let him have you."

Your breath hitched.

Jeno clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep going. "I know what I am. I know I’m a single dad, that I don’t have enough money, that I don’t even have my future figured out. I know Kun is the better option. But I don’t care.

I want you—I need you."

His voice broke.

"You've shown me love. You’ve shown Jiwoo love. And I… I want to be able to show you that love back."

"Jeno…"

"Please," he whispered. "Give me a chance."

Your lips parted, hesitation flickering across your face. "Kun and I aren’t dating."

Jeno froze. "What?"

"I…" You swallowed, looking away for a second before meeting his eyes again. "I couldn’t. I couldn’t date him. Not when my heart already belonged to someone else."

Jeno’s mind went blank.

"Huh?"

"I like you, Jeno." Your voice was quiet but steady. "I’ve liked you for a while."

Jeno could barely breathe. "Then why’d you… why’d you go on the date?"

You gave him a sad smile. "Because you said you weren’t looking to date. And I… I thought I had no chance."

Jeno was stunned.

No chance?

You—YN L/N—the most beautiful girl he had ever met. The girl of his dreams. The one who made him believe in love again. The one who made him want to try again.

Jeno stared at you, taking in everything- the way your hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, the way you looked so natural standing in his kitchen, wearing his apron, making food for both of you.

And something inside him snapped.

Before he could stop himself, he was moving.

His hands found your waist, fingers gripping tightly as he pulled you to him. Your breath hitched, eyes widening, but you didn’t pull away.

His lips crashed onto yours.

It was desperate, raw, filled with all the emotions he had been trying so hard to suppress. He kissed you like a man starved.

You melted into him instantly, hands gripping his broad shoulders as he pressed you back against the counter.

His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you impossibly close. Your scent, your warmth, the soft gasp you let out against his lips—it was driving him insane.

Jeno groaned, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid against your lips, and you opened up for him, letting him taste you.

You were sweet. Addictive.

His tongue tangled with yours, slow and teasing at first, but quickly growing more heated, more desperate.

A low whimper escaped you, and Jeno nearly lost it.

His hands roamed your sides, feeling the curves of your waist, the dip of your back. He wanted to feel every inch of you, wanted to memorize the way you fit against him.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging slightly, and he let out a shaky breath.

"Fuck," he murmured against your lips. "I wanted to do this for so long."

Your eyes were heavy-lidded, lips swollen as you looked up at him. "Then don’t stop."

And Jeno didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Not when you were right here, kissing him back with just as much need.

His hands roamed your waist, gripping tightly, holding you against him like he was afraid you’d slip away. Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned into your mouth.

Jeno’s hands moved down to your thighs, lifting you slightly before walking you backward. You let out a small gasp as the edge of the couch hit the back of your knees.

He pushed you down onto the couch, hovering over you before capturing your lips again.

This kiss was different.

It was deeper. Rougher.

Jeno kissed you like he was making up for lost time, like he had been holding himself back for too long and finally, finally, he could have you.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, tasting you, teasing you, and you melted into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, but it still wasn’t enough.

You needed more.

Jeno’s hands roamed over your waist before sliding down to your thighs, fingers gripping the soft flesh. He squeezed lightly, and you whimpered into his mouth.

That sound.

It drove him crazy.

He pulled away just for a second, catching his breath, his forehead resting against yours.

"Fuck," he whispered. His eyes were dark, filled with something primal, something desperate. "I can’t get enough of you."

You shivered, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. Jeno inhaled sharply as your nails traced over the toned muscles of his abdomen.

"Jeno," you breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

He groaned, dipping his head to your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin.

You sucked in a breath, hands tightening around his shoulders. "Jeno…"

He groaned at the way you said his name, like it was a plea, like you needed him.

His lips trailed lower, tongue flicking against your pulse before he sucked lightly on your skin.

You gasped.

Jeno stilled for a second before smirking against your neck. "So this is the spot, huh?" he murmured, voice low and teasing.

Before you could respond, he latched onto the sensitive area just below your ear, sucking harder this time.

Your body arched instinctively, a whimper escaping your lips.

Jeno cursed under his breath, his grip on you tightening as he soothed the mark with his tongue before going back for more.

Your hands tangled in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and he groaned, nipping at your skin before sucking even deeper, determined to leave a mark that wouldn’t fade so easily.

His hands moved again, sliding under your shirt, fingertips skimming over your waist. He traced the curve of your back, pressing you closer, until there was no space left between you.

Your body responded instantly, legs parting slightly to make room for him as his hands gripped your thighs again, kneading them before slowly trailing upward.

You gasped against his lips, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Jeno—"

He swallowed your words with another deep kiss, tilting his head to get even closer, his tongue brushing against yours in slow, deliberate strokes.

His hands wandered, exploring, feeling. He wanted to memorize every dip, every curve of your body.

You were intoxicating.

He pulled away, chest rising and falling heavily, his forehead resting against yours. His hands remained on your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as if grounding himself.

The room was silent except for your uneven breaths.

Jeno licked his lips, his eyes still dark with lust. But beneath it all, there was something else. Something deeper.

"Tell me you’re mine," he whispered, voice raw.

You swallowed, eyes locked onto his.

"I’m yours, Jeno," you whispered.

That was all he needed to hear.

He kissed you again, slow and deep, pouring every unspoken emotion into it. This was all he needed. Jiwoo. You. His everything. Maybe he too deserved love. To be cherished.

taglist: @rubiiisyeon @x-luv @iseos1 @nctead @jaeminnanaaa17 @jae-n0 @bluedbliss @justanotherkpopstanlol @chenlesfeetpic @urlocalbeaner5 @hoeingthefuckup @rensaries @leeymws @toyoongg @sunghoonsgfreal @ajaaaaayyyyy @bbykaixx @7dreambaby

an: we're finally done with 'Fatherhood'. should I make an epilogue?

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

punishment on the poker table

a/n: i've had this fantasy floating around in my brain ever since i came up with this au. damn it feels good to finally have it written out all sluttily as it deserves to be

summary: “well, well, well… what do we have here…” he slowly swept his broad thumb across your tender flesh as he gazed down at the discovery, “just a friend, huh? However, did you manage to lose your panties hanging out with your friend? Come on, I think we’d all love to know.” 

warnings: camgirl!reader x various, pornstar!lee bodecker, pornstar!ari levinson, pornstar!lloyd hansen, pornstar!nick fowler, smut, porn au, college au, reader’s porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), filming pornography, reader has been in the porn industry for a while now (maybe a few months?), voyeurism, exhibitionism, gangbang, daddy kink (probably the only scenario where you can catch me playing around with this kink, because in most circumstances it's sadly not my cup of tea), classic porn step fantasy, impact play, pussy inspection, hair pulling, masturbation, fingering, pussyjob, oral, handjob, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, multiple orgasms, squirting, penetrative sex, anal, unprotected sex

word count: 2850

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

“Hey beautiful,” you heard over your shoulder as you sat in the kitchen of the rented house you found yourself in, putting the last finishing touches on your makeup for today’s shoot. 

Twisting around, you swiftly leapt from your seat as you recognised the figure leaning against the doorframe “Ari!” you threw your arms around his bulky form, “hi! How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” his broad palm ran down your spine before you retracted from the embrace, “how about you? I’ve heard you’ve been quite busy lately.”

“Yeah, I have,” a short giggle bubbled out of you, “but it’s been so much fun, though I’m still figuring out the balancing act between this, camming and school.” 

As his feet then began to shuffle, your own shifted as well and carried you back out into the other room where crew members slipped around and prepped the space. With half of their attention directed at their work, their heads still twisted as they zigzagged between the rest of the stars for today’s fantasy, as the guys, lounging on the set, dragged their old friends into whatever they were chatting about. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d all arrived,” each of their head twisted at the sound of your voice, “I thought Ari was the only one apart from me.”

“Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart,” Nick caught your palm as you neared the poker table they surrounded and pressed his lips to the back of it. 

“Good to see you again, Nicky,” you chuckled as the warmth of his peck lingered on your skin. 

“Oh, you guys have worked together before?” Ari sank down into the last of the chairs around the games table.

“Uhm, well, we have,” you gestured to the brunette who’d just kissed your hand, “a fun little POV shoot a month ago,” your gaze then drifted to Ari, “and we’ve of course worked together, I don’t think I’ll have to remind you of that,” you smiled before shifting your vision to the last two, “but, this is my first time with each of them,” you pointed between the two moustachioed men before grasping first the hand of the one to the left, “Lloyd,” a flutter flicked through your lower abdomen as you met the pornstar’s dazzling gaze, “hi.”

“Don’t get starstruck on me now,” he winked, “if you’re gonna cream your panties, wait till the camera’s rolling.” 

Puffing out an airy laugh at his joke, “no promises,” you then shifted to catch the other man’s palm, “and Lee,” he slowly rose from his seat as he shook your hand, “or should I say daddy,” a small chuckle rumble in his chest as you warmed up to the title he’d get to adorn in today’s storyline, “wonderful to finally meet you.”

“You too,” he smiled, then added before he let go of your fingers, “I’ve been looking forward to finally working with you.”

“Really?” an amazed grin lit up your face as you blinked back at the seasoned professional. 

“Oh yeah, just ask my agent. I’ve been quite literally begging for this to happen.”

“Have you ever shot a gangbang before?” Lloyd then asked. 

“Uhm, no,” you shook your head, “first gangbang–, or well, on screen that is. Although I haven’t ever been with four guys at once before, so that’s new,” your glance flickered over each of their faces, “but I’m excited! I’m prepped and ready, this is gonna be fun.” 

But before your face could heat up any further, the doors to the room burst open and in strolled, not only the head of the studio, Romanoff Productions, but also the visionary who had signed on to direct the shoot herself. 

“Oh, great! You’re all here,” Natasha came to a stop right before you all, “then it won’t be long now,” she stated before landing her gaze on you, “Cherry, should we take a look at what you’re gonna wear?”

“Yeah,” you followed along as she then slipped back into her swift stride, “I brought a few options, some different plaid skirts, all depending on what colour you had in mind.”

The camera low in Natasha’s grasp shadowed your ass, shyly peeking out from under your short blue plaid skirt with every quiet step, as you sneaked down the hallway from the front door and into the dimly lit living room. 

“Breaking curfew…” a deep voice then rumbled somewhere in the darkness. 

Spinning around, you spotted the group of men surrounding the round table in the corner, “Lee! Oh my god,” faking a fright, you clasped a palm over your exposed chest, as your tight shirt wasn’t just sparsely buttoned, but also gathered up and tied around your waist. 

“Lee?” Lloyd murmured and shifted the cards in his grasp, “is that what you call your stepfather?” 

Sinking your teeth down into your bottom lip, you quietly uttered, “…daddy...”

“Good girl,” Lee nodded, though didn’t glance over his shoulder at you as he then dropped his cards to the table and sighed, “now, are you gonna tell me why you were out so late or should I just punish you without knowing the full reason? I’m fine either way,” his fingers gently played with a stack of poker chips beside him. 

“Oh, I don’t know if that is necessary,” you swiftly shook your head and attempted to shuffle closer towards the staircase, “I'm only 45 minutes late–”

“Come here,” his command was low and clear as his glare finally locked upon your figure in the dark. 

“What?” your fingers fiddled lightly with the hem of your skirt, fluttering just above where a pair of long socks stretched up to. 

“Cherry, you can come here right now, or you can get out of my house.”

Though it was all just pretend, his low tone still sent a shiver down your spine, “you’re gonna kick me out? Just for staying out a little bit too late?”

“But that’s not all you were doing, was it?” he tilted his head before pushing his chair back a few inches from the poker table, “come on,” his palm came down to clap his thigh, “don’t act like this is the first time your bratty ass has needed to be taken over my knee.”

Glancing around to the others, “shouldn’t we go up to my room? You have company,” you added in a whisper. 

“Oh, they don’t mind,” he stated, keeping his gaze locked upon you as he raised his voice, “do you boys?”

“Not in the slightest,” Nick smirked and leaned back in his seat, eyeing you just as brashly as the rest of them did. 

Slowly, you closed the distance to stand beside Lee’s seated form, though before even offering you another glance, the older man seized your frame and tilted you over his lap. 

With your bottom barely covered in your tiny schoolgirl skirt, a yelp slipped up from your lungs as Lee sent his hand down to land, not a light beginning tap across it, but a harsh smack that had you jumping in his lap. 

“So, are you gonna come clean and tell us all what you have been up to, young lady?” he asked after you’d lost count of his generous spanks. 

“I-I was just hanging out with a friend from school,” you squeaked and dug your fingers into his thigh. 

Though as his palm came down upon your ass once again, the smack caused your flimsy skirt to flip up, just enough for him to catch sight of the secret it had been hiding. 

“Well, well, well… what do we have here…” he slowly swept his broad thumb across your tender flesh as he gazed down at the discovery, “just a friend, huh? However, did you manage to lose your panties hanging out with your friend? Come on, I think we’d all love to know.” 

But you kept your mouth shut as goosebumps pricked and covered your skin.

“Fine,” the word that left his lips was accompanied by a swift spank that soared across your bare bottom, “you don’t wanna talk? I’ll just have a look myself then,” he murmured before tilting closer, ever so slightly, and began to spread you apart. 

“What are you–,” you peeked back at him over your shoulder, though your objection melted from your lips as his touch then swept through your glistening folds, “oh, f-fuck…”

“Doesn’t seem to me like you were just hanging out with a friend…” sticky strings of want created a web as Lee probed your puffy petals apart, letting him inspect your little hole, “…you know, I don’t ask much of you, but I do require you to obey my rules, and this?” his touch ghosted against your clit, making you swallow a moan, “this breaks nearly all of them.”

“I'm sorry, I just–”

“Sorry is not gonna cut it anymore! You’re gonna have to learn that there are consequences to your actions,” he growled before landing a swift slap against your glistening pussy, causing you to let out another cry. 

As you tried to wiggle off his lap, the hand he’d had splayed across your lower back soared up to tangle itself in the hair at the base of your neck to keep you in place as he let his fingers sweep through your folds. 

“You just need a bit tough love to learn the rules, that’s all…” he uttered over the sinful symphony of his persistent touch against your embarrassingly wet cunt. 

“You’re a fucking pervert,” you grumbled through a heavy pant. 

“You can call me whatever you want, I don’t fucking care,” his grip in your hair then tightened as he yanked you closer, your back having to arch to reach the angle he searched for, “you can either get what you deserve, or I can throw you out on your ass,” his breath fanned across your hot cheek as his lips nearly grazed it with every seething word he uttered, “it’s your choice.” 

“…fine,” you finally replied through your gritted teeth before his grasp let go of your hair and sent you back down to stare at the floor.  

Slowly, as Lee slipped a finger inside of you and gradually began to stretch you out, your eyes drifted shut and didn’t flutter back open till another one of his digits had eased inside of you and tickled out a quiet whimper, deep from within your soul. However, as you blinked your eyes back open, they fluttered up to discover the hard lengths that the others around the poker table had freed from their pants. 

“Oh my god!” your eyes widened as you watched their fists slowly jerk up and down, leisurely stroking themselves as they stared at you, “Lee! Your friends, they’re–”

“Shh,” he kept up his touch as you began to quiver, “don’t mind them.” 

By the time you were fighting the unbearable urge to cum, your body was flailing so fiercely that Lee had to clasp a forearm down around your waist in order to keep you over his lap. In the intoxicating fog you found yourself submerged in, someone caught your hand, and it wasn’t till moments later that it truly sank through your haze and you squinted over to discover Lloyd’s grasp engulfing your own, as he guided your touch over himself, his girth throbbing beneath your fingers. The vision alone was enough for you to throw in the towel and lose the battle to the high that then promptly washed over you. 

Before your daze had a chance to fade, your frame was flipped back upright to briefly sit in Lee’s lap, and your reality was still so fuzzy that it took a moment for you to register when some of the others reached out to rip your shirt off, though the blue plaid that clung around your hips as well as the high socks, those were allowed to stay perfectly in place. 

“You wanna fucking learn what happens to little sluts, huh?” Lee clutched your jaw in his grasp and growled against your cheek, “because that’s how you’re acting, so you might as well learn what it’s like to be treated as one.” 

Flinging you around, he manhandled you onto the table, the others swiftly swiping away the cards and chip stacks out of the way before you landed in the middle.  

“Since you’ve got no problem spreading your legs for your little friends, then mine shouldn’t be an issue either, should it now?” 

“I–,” you panted, blinking up at Lee as he nudged your trembling thighs apart, “fuck…”

“What was that?” he smacked your sensitive cunt to conjure a clearer answer. 

“Ah!” you let out a shriek, “no, daddy! Fine! Let them use me, what do I care!”

“Oh, you’ll care, babydoll…” Lloyd swiftly snatched up your right hand and brought it back to his cock, “must warn you, we aren’t as gentle as those little boys you hang out with.”

“But that’s alright, isn’t it?” Nick smirked as he seized your other hand and yanked it towards his own dick, “your cute little pussy deserves the punishment.”

Glancing between them all, you uttered, “you’re all sick.”

“Says the girl who just came,” Lloyd pointed out through a short chuckle. 

“I did nothing wrong!” you continued, raising your voice, “everyone my age fools around! It’s not like I came home knocked up or anything–”

“Somebody shut her up,” Lee suddenly exhaled before Ari appeared above your head and swiftly stuffed his fat girth into your mouth, snuffing out the remainder of your sentence as it vibrated against his cock. 

Your legs were then folded up till both Lloyd and Nick at your sides caught them and held your limbs in place, keeping you open for Lee as he fiddled with his fly. 

Staring down at your pussy, Lee finally freed his cock and uttered, “now…” offering himself a gentle stroke as he took a step closer to you, “what are we gonna do to you…” he then tapped the heavy weight of his dick against your petals, making you squirm as sticky strings of desperation clung to his length, “maybe a little something here? Is that what you need in order to finally respect my rules?” he briefly flicked the bulbous head through your folds before his lips tilted into a sly smirk, “nah, I don’t think so… you need to be filled up somewhere that hasn’t already fucked tonight.” 

And then, with the slickness now glistening up his cock, as well as the juices that had already leaked and dripped down, Lee began to split open your ass. 

A cry promptly escaped you at the mind-numbing stretch, though as the sound vibrated against Ari’s girth, he only seized the opportunity and slid down even further till the staggering imprint of his size was bulging in your throat and his heavy sack was nuzzled up against your face.

“That’s it…” Lee groaned as he slowly filled you up, “that’s what you needed, isn’t it, kiddo?”

Though you had no clue who, a few of the men began to play with your tits, offering them playful smacks to make them jiggle hypnotically or even tug and pull on your pebbly nipples. 

“Oh, would you look at that fucking cunt?” you heard Lloyd grunt as he watched closely at how your empty pussy was blowing euphoric bubbles, before you felt him reach down to grab your desperate core, pinching the puff a moment as they all marvelled in unison. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s enjoying her little lesson,” Ari chuckled as you choked on his cock. 

“How could she not?” Nick reached down and slipped a finger inside your leaky hole, “you’re just a little whore for your stepdad and his friends, aren’t you?”

Sliding a digit in as well beside the other pornstar’s, Lloyd then murmured, “maybe instead of playing poker when we come over, we could all just play with you.”

Letting his cock slip out of your mouth, Ari craned down to touch you as well and began to bully your puffy clit, “yeah, you’d be a perfect little toy, wouldn’t you? Your daddy will teach you right how to treat us all.”

As Lee’s heavy sack smacked against your slick skin at his next deep thrust, you once again unravelled before them all, though this time in a rippling display that had your poor pussy gushing around the men’s fingers.

“Oh! That’s a good fucking girl!” Lee pulled his cock out of your ass before he joined in on the other’s torture, though didn’t stop till you were shaking violently beneath them and they couldn’t tickle forth anymore squirt from your overstimulated cunt, “I honestly didn’t think you had it in you, but just look,” he caught your eye, “you’re learning already.” 

A smile found his features before he then, without warning, stuffed his girth into your pussy, beside the fingers that no one, not even himself, slipped out, but instead utilised the leverage to pry your clambering and sensitive pussy open for Lee’s fat girth. 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[tsumuus]

when he sees me

katsuki bakugou x reader, blind date, first date, fluff, ooc?, based on this drabble, probably my longest written fic(around 2300-2400 words, but like thats a lot for me😭)

main masterlist | bnha masterlist

You’ve never considered yourself the romantic type.

Not for lack of curiosity, but because the idea of romance felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. Sure, the view was breathtaking, but one wrong move and you’d plummet into the unknown. Relationships demanded too much- a risk of losing control, of exposing parts of yourself no one else had seen, only to have it thrown back in your face.

That’s why, despite Mina’s relentless campaigning to set you up with her “perfect guy,” you resisted.

“C’mon, he’s not like other guys,” she insisted one afternoon, her golden eyes sparkling with determination.

You sighed, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. “Mina, you’ve said that about all of your friends. And let’s not forget how the last one ended up being obsessed with his ex.”

Mina laughed. “Okay, fair, but this guy is different. He’s… grounded. Straightforward. No games, no fluff. I think you’d actually like him.”

“You’ve said that before too,” you teased.

Her pout was almost convincing. Almost. “Just trust me. One date. If it’s horrible, I’ll never bring it up again. Deal?”

You hesitated, weighing the risk of one awkward evening against weeks of Mina’s pestering. Reluctantly, you gave in. “Fine. One date.”

The restaurant was warm and inviting, its soft lighting casting a cozy glow over the wooden tables and shelves lined with potted plants. Mina had texted you the details earlier: 7 PM, party for two, under your name. She’d been oddly tight-lipped about who your date was, insisting she wanted it to be a surprise.

You were still skeptical, but a small part of you was curious. Maybe Mina was right this time. Maybe.

You arrived a few minutes early, hoping to gather your thoughts before meeting your mystery date. The host greeted you with a polite smile and led you to a small table near the window.

“Your party hasn’t arrived yet,” they said, pulling out your chair.

“Thank you,” you replied, sitting down and scanning the menu.

Minutes ticked by. You started to wonder if you’d been stood up when the door opened, and a blond man walked in, his sharp crimson eyes scanning the room.

You froze.

Even from across the restaurant, you recognized him. Katsuki Bakugou, pro hero and household name, exuded an aura that was impossible to ignore. He wasn’t wearing his hero costume, but the fitted black sweater and dark jeans were somehow just as striking.

Your heart sank. There’s no way he’s here for me.

But then his gaze landed on you, and he started walking over.

“You’re the blind date?” he asked, stopping in front of your table.

You blinked up at him, stunned. “You’re…”

“Katsuki,” he said, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Guess we’re both surprised.”

It took you a moment to recover. Of all the people Mina could have set you up with, this was the guy she’d chosen? Pro hero, explosive temper, and notorious for being brutally honest? It didn’t make sense.

“Uh, yeah,” you finally managed. “Nice to meet you.”

He gave a small nod, studying you with an intensity that made you shift in your seat.

The first few minutes were… awkward. He wasn’t exactly a conversationalist, and you weren’t sure how to navigate the situation. But as the evening went on, you began to notice things you hadn’t expected.

For one, he wasn’t as intimidating as you’d imagined. Sure, his words were blunt, but there was a surprising warmth behind them. He listened when you spoke, his attention unwavering. And when he talked about his work, there was a passion in his voice that made it impossible not to be drawn in.

“So, you’re friends with Mina?” he asked at one point, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

“Yeah. We’ve been friends since middle school,” you said. “She’s been trying to set me up for years. Guess she finally got her way.”

He snorted. “Sounds like her.”

You smiled, relaxing slightly. “What about you? How did she convince you to do this?”

“Didn’t take much,” he admitted. “She said you weren’t annoying, so I figured it was worth a shot.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “High praise.”

“It is,” he said, smirking.

Despite yourself, you laughed. The more you talked, the more you realized that he wasn’t what you’d expected. Beneath the sharp edges and fiery reputation was someone who was honest, genuine, and… kind. In his own way.

When the night ended, he walked you to your car. The cool evening air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the restaurant, and you found yourself wishing the night could last just a little longer.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Didn’t think I’d like this whole blind date thing, but… you’re not bad.”

A small laugh escaped you. “You’re not bad yourself.”

His lips quirked in the faintest of smirks. “See ya around?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the weight of your fears pressing down on you. But then you met his gaze- steady, genuine- and you felt something shift.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “See you around.”

That night, as you lay in bed replaying the evening in your mind, you realized something strange: you weren’t overthinking it. You weren’t second-guessing every word or analyzing every gesture. Instead, you felt… calm.

For the first time, the idea of letting someone in didn’t feel like a leap off a cliff.

It felt like the beginning of something you didn’t want to lose.

You didn’t expect him to call.

Even though the night had gone surprisingly well, you told yourself not to get your hopes up. He was a pro hero, after all- someone whose life moved at a pace so fast it felt impossible to keep up. People like him didn’t have time for something as fragile and delicate as a budding relationship.

Still, the memory of his smirk lingered, sharp and vivid in your mind. The way his crimson eyes had softened ever so slightly when he teased you- so subtle you wondered if you’d imagined it- made it impossible not to replay the evening over and over.

Three days passed. You told yourself to move on, to not dwell on what was probably just a casual dinner for him. That is, until your phone buzzed with a text.

Katsuki: Hey. You free for dinner this week?

The message was so short, so him, that it took you a moment to process it. Your heart stuttered, and you stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity. Was this real? A small, incredulous laugh bubbled out of you. You couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through your chest.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should you reply right away? Wait a few minutes? Was it too eager to answer so quickly?

Finally, with a shaky breath, you typed back:

You: Yeah, I think I could be convinced. When were you thinking?

The pause before his next reply felt like forever, but when it came, it was so straightforward you had to smile.

Katsuki: Friday. 7. Same place.

Simple. Confident. And as you stared at the message, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

The first couple of dinners were... awkward, to say the least.

It wasn’t that Katsuki made you uncomfortable- far from it. But there was something about the way he carried himself, the unwavering intensity in his gaze, that made you hyperaware of every word you spoke. He wasn’t a conversationalist, either. The silences between you felt heavier than they needed to, filled with the unspoken tension of two people trying to figure each other out.

He wasn’t oblivious to it. One evening, while you sat across from him in a cozy, dimly lit restaurant, your fork hovering over your plate, he tilted his head and raised a brow.

“You gonna stop acting like you’re walkin’ on eggshells around me, or do I need to pry it out of you?” he asked bluntly, his tone laced with teasing, though his crimson eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

Your fork clinked softly against the plate as you set it down, caught off guard. “I’m not walking on eggshells,” you retorted, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you.

His lips quirked in a knowing smirk. “Yeah, you are.” He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Just say whatever’s on your mind. I’m not gonna bite.”

There was something disarming about the way he said it- gruff but sincere. His words loosened something inside you, and before you realized it, you were laughing, the tension in your shoulders melting away. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“Don’t see the point,” he said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “It’s more fun when people are just themselves. So, quit overthinkin’ and just talk to me.”

It was easier said than done, but something about the way he said it- direct, no room for doubt- made you want to try. And so you did. Hesitantly at first, testing the waters with little anecdotes and random thoughts. But as the night went on, the words flowed more freely. You told him about your day, about things that annoyed you, things that made you laugh. And Katsuki listened.

Really listened.

He didn’t interrupt or interject with meaningless comments. He just let you talk, his eyes steady on yours, nodding here and there or throwing in a dry remark that made you laugh despite yourself. By the time the check came, the air between you felt lighter, less strained.

When he walked you to your door that night, hands shoved into his pockets and that familiar scowl softening just a fraction, you realized you were looking forward to the next time you’d see him.

Things between you shifted after that. Slowly, in small, subtle ways. Dinners turned into late-night conversations that carried over into texts throughout the week. Katsuki wasn’t the type to blow up your phone with messages, but when he did text, it was always something meaningful- or hilarious, though he’d never admit he was funny on purpose.

One night, he called out of the blue.

“Look outside,” he said gruffly, not even bothering with a greeting.

Confused, you walked to the window. Sure enough, there he was, standing on the sidewalk with a bag slung over one shoulder, his free hand holding up his phone.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, laughing as you opened the door and stepped outside to meet him.

“Thought you could use a break,” he said, holding up the bag. “Brought food. Don’t argue, just eat.”

It was simple, thoughtful gestures like that- the way he remembered little things you said, like your favorite snack or how you liked your coffee- that caught you off guard. He wasn’t trying to impress you; he was just... himself. Honest, genuine, and surprisingly caring in ways he’d never admit aloud.

The night it all came to a head was unplanned, much like the way your relationship had unfolded. You’d been feeling restless all day, the kind of itch beneath your skin that no amount of pacing or distractions could soothe. Katsuki must have noticed when he stopped by after work, because instead of sitting down like usual, he grabbed your hand.

“C’mon,” he said simply, tugging you toward the door.

“Where are we going?” you asked, though you didn’t resist, letting him lead you out into the cool night air.

“You’ll see.”

He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t push, curious despite yourself. He walked with purpose, his hand warm and solid around yours, guiding you through streets you didn’t recognize until you reached a quiet rooftop overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking- glittering lights stretching out as far as the eye could see, the hum of distant traffic a soothing backdrop.

“Wow,” you breathed, stepping closer to the edge to take it all in.

Katsuki leaned against the railing, watching you instead of the view. “Thought you might like it,” he said after a moment, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced back at him, your chest tightening at the way he looked at you. “I do. It’s beautiful.”

He stayed quiet for a beat, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours again. “You’ve been outta it lately,” he said, his tone careful. “Figured you needed to get outta your head for a bit.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the weight of his attention- his care- making it hard to speak. “Thank you,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

The silence stretched, comfortable now, as you both watched the city lights. But something was shifting between you, unspoken but undeniable. You felt it in the way he stood closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours. In the way his crimson eyes softened when they met yours.

“Katsuki,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “why do you... do all this? For me, I mean.”

He stiffened slightly but didn’t look away. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said, his tone defensive, like the answer was obvious. “You’re important to me.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Your breath caught, and before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. He stared at your joined hands, his expression unreadable, before squeezing back.

“You’re important to me too,” you said softly, the words carrying more weight than you expected.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the glow of the city, something between you clicked. There were no fireworks, no dramatic declarations, but as Katsuki leaned in, his forehead brushing gently against yours, you realized you didn’t need them. This- his warmth, his presence- was more than enough.

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 14: Anal

Today you have some fun with Julie after a concert. Let's see how you can help her.

Length 2.4K

Julie X Mreader

You smiled as the lights dimmed. You had waited all day for the show to start, and now it was going to. Your waiting had paid off; you were in the front row with nothing blocking your line of sight. The lights dimmed, and you shouted along with the crowd as the members of Kiss of Life got on stage. They got right into their first song, wasting no time in giving the people a show. You had your eyes on Julie the entire time. The others were beautiful in their own right, but you loved watching her. 

Song after song, you cheered your heart out. During one of the breaks, when the members took their time talking to you

After the show was over, a woman came up to you. She looked like a staff member and looked you up and down before looking at something on her phone.  “Hey, do you have a second?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Are you open-minded?” She asked.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You respond, thinking about how odd of a question that was. You try to consider what she could mean. She types something out on her phone before looking back at you.

“Alright, come with me.”  You were confused but followed the woman. She led you to the back. You stopped when a sign said, “Employees only.” “What are you doing? Let’s go, " she said, motioning you to keep following. You pointed to the sign, and she rolled her eyes. “I am staff, and I’m telling you to come over here.” She keeps moving, and after a moment of pause, you follow her. As you walk backstage, you see the staff and backup dancers talking and relaxing now that the show’s finished. The woman looks over her shoulder to make sure you’re still following her. She comes to a stop in front of a room opening the door. “Wait in here; I’ll be back soon.” You step through the door. The room was a plain locker room; you take a seat on the bench, facing the front door as you wait. 

A few minutes later, the woman returns, handing you a clipboard. “Sign this, it’s a NDA. You can’t tell anyone about this, or we will legally come after you.” You take the clipboard from her and skim the contents; sure enough, it is a Non-disclosure agreement. “Just sign it already, she’s waiting for you.” 

“She?” you think to yourself, who could be waiting for you. Instantly, you think that it could be Julie, but you push that thought to the back; she wouldn’t have any interest in you. You consider that maybe another member was interested in meeting you, maybe Belle or Natty. You take the pen and sign the NDA, handing the clipboard back to the staff member. 

“Alright, good. Now hand over your phone; you won’t be allowed to have it while you’re with them.” Considering you had already signed the NDA, you didn’t argue too much. You pull out your phone and hand it to the staff. She takes it quickly and walks to the doorway. Stopping to talk to someone before motioning to you. 

Your heartbeat quickens as you see Julie walk into the room. She flashes you a smile and waves, shutting the door behind her after. “Hi there! I’m so glad you came back here.” Julie moves closer to you. She places a hand on your shoulder as she lowers herself onto your lap. “Did you enjoy the show?” You struggle to get any words out; Julie is right in front of you. She is sitting on your lap. Seeing you struggle makes Julie laugh; she slaps your shoulder as you continue to fumble. “I’ll take that as a yes. Listen, this tour has been really long and hard. We’ve performed nearly daily over the last month. Could you help me relax a little? I saw you staring at me out in the crowd.” Julie runs her fingers along your chest, moving them slowly. “I think that you could really help me.” You understand what she’s insinuating, and you get hard. Julie feels it, too, her eyes widening for a second before she laughs again. “I guess you’re more than ready to help me, huh?”

You nod your head; you wouldn’t dare deny any of Julie’s requests. Julie reaches into her hoodie and pulls out a small bottle, placing it beside you. She grabs your hand, holding it gently as she pulls it from the bench, “We’re going to need that a little later.” Julie brings your hand to her lips and takes one of your fingers into her mouth; you feel her tongue swirling around it slowly before she pops it out of her mouth. “First, I need to get you ready and see what you’re working with.” She smirks, climbing off your lap. Julie kneels before you, unbuckling your belt and fishing your cock out of your pants. “Oh, you’ve got a little monster in here,” Julie says, her smile growing as she pulls your cock out. She marvels at it, her hand slowly tightening around your shaft.

You groan; the pleasure is unimaginable. The woman pleasuring you, being Julie, was no doubt a big part of that. She moves her hand up and down your shaft and sticks out her tongue, running it along the underside. You shiver; her warm tongue moves back to the base of your cock before moving to the tip. Julie traces her lips with the tip of your cock, covering them in precum. She licks them after, humming happily as she gets an early taste of you. Wrapping her lips around the tip, she slowly takes you in, her lips stretching as she takes you. You feel her tongue snake along the underside of your cock as it’s forced down. Julie bobs her head slowly, gauging your reaction. Seeing and listening to your moans makes her smile. Julie continues to bob her head, barely able to take more than half your cock before she’s forced back. The sounds of her struggling on your cock only fuel the pleasure, and you can feel yourself getting close to cumming. 

Julie can feel your cock throb in her mouth. She’s tempted to let you cum down her throat, but other thoughts come to mind, and she stops herself. Julie pulls back slowly, stroking your shaft as she catches her breath. “No cumming just yet.” Julie rises to her feet and unzips her hoodie, placing it on the bench before reaching for the hem of her shirt. You stare at the young woman in awe as she raises her shirt over her head, and you see her perky breasts. Your cock twitches as you stare at her tits. Julie smiled; it was a cute one. She feels a little embarrassed to see you staring the way you were.  She cups them, hiding her nipples from you, “Do you like them?” You nod; the only thing you could do to respond. “You won’t get to see them for too much longer, so enjoy them while you can.” Julie gets go of her breasts and leans forward, turning her body from side to side against your face. Her small breasts rub against your face, and you think to yourself that you must have died and gone to heaven. 

You don’t notice Julie grabbing the bottle from earlier. She spills some lube onto her hand and wraps it around your cock, stroking you from base to tip. “You’re ready to go.” Julie pulls back and climbs onto the bench; she presses her face onto the wood and looks back at you, dangling the bottle. “Would you mind helping me?” You grab the bottle from Julie and watch as she flips her skirt. A jewel meets your gaze, “I need you to get that out and take its place.” Your cock throbs as you consider the thought of fucking Julie’s ass. You wet your lips as you take a step closer to Julie; your hand slowly reaches for the jewel. You grip it gently and begin pulling—Julie moans, making you stop for a second. Continuing to pull the plug from Julie’s ass, you consider how she must’ve had it on the whole performance. Thoughts of Julie dancing naked with the plug inside her flood your mind as you continue pulling it from her ass. Julie’s moans become louder as the plug reaches its thickest part. She bites her lip; the feeling of her ass being stretched by the toy makes her toes curl. “Oh, fuck,” she groans before it leaves her body with a pop.

You stare at Julie’s gaping asshole, watching it try to close around nothing. Your cock twitches as you mentally prepare yourself. You pour some lube onto your fingers, coating them well before pushing them into the gaping hole. You rub Julie’s walls, coating them in the lube. The young woman bites her lip, humming as she feels your fingers move deeper into her. “That’s enough, fuck me already, please,” Julie begs you.  You put the plug aside and get behind Julie, holding her waist with one hand as you align yourself with the other. You push into Julie, instantly feeling her walls squeeze down on your cock.

The further you pushed, the tighter Julie got. She gripped the bench tightly, “Oh god, you're going to tear me apart.”  She groaned as she felt you stir her guts. “Mmm, keep going, fuck me hard.” You remain buried inside Julie, your cock throbbing inside her. “Please fuck me. I don’t care if you cum.” You pull out slowly and begin thrusting; Julie’s groans bounce off the walls as you take her. In two thrusts, you reach your limit and cum inside Julie. Your warm cum fills her stomach slowly. Julie moans softly, sticking her tongue out as the warmth from your cum spreads across her body. 

You felt disappointed in yourself for cumming so soon. You needed to make up for it. You grip Julie’s waist tightly and begin to thrust as you finish your first orgasm. Julie smiles in ecstasy as she feels you start to move quickly. You drive your cock into Julie’s ass, watching her cheeks bounce against your pelvis. The temptation because too great as you watch her ass bounce against you. You pull one hand back and spank Julie. She moans, enjoying the roughness. “Yes, harder, hit me harder.” You deliver another strike to Julie’s cheek. The stinging pain only amplifies the pleasure. Her moans become louder as you move to the other. Julie could feel her climax coming; she felt a tightness in her core that was about to burst. She held onto the bench as tightly as she could as you continued to thrust. As you reshaped her ass to fit only your cock. 

You felt Julie’s wall tightening around you. You grunted with every thrust as her walls clamped down around you. The pleasure was becoming too great for the two of you. You buried yourself inside Julie, cumming again. Julie let out a roar as she felt your cum shoot into her for the second time. Her walls clamped down tightly around your cock, milking you as she came with you. Her body collapses against the bench, and you fall with her, burying yourself deeper into her ass. You pump every drop into Julie, her walls helping you as they take everything. You don’t want to pull out; the pleasure you were getting from her felt too good. You pull Julie back as you move into a seated position, your cock still inside her. Julie rocked back and forth on your cock, groaning as it rubbed against her G-spot. You groped her breasts in the meanwhile, enjoying the soft mounds as you both relaxed. 

After a few minutes, Julie began to lift herself off your cock, before pausing. She sunk back down onto it, leaning against you. “That was great,” she says softly, rubbing her folds as she feels your cock throb inside her. “I can’t lose any of your cum, though. Would you mind putting the plug back in? I want  to savor it a little.” You agree, nodding immediately, “Good.” You grab the anal plug, holding it tightly in your hand as Julie slowly moves forward, arching her back and raising her ass as she moves off your cock. The moment it's out of her cum begins to leak out, dribbling out of her stretched-out asshole. Julie reaches back, touching the edges gingerly, moaning softly. “You really broke me,” she coos. You move in and press the plug against her ass, pushing it in slowly. It slides in rather easily. Julie notices, too, “I might need to get a bigger one because of you.” 

Julie turns around slowly and kisses you, her lips lingering on yours. “Thanks for the help. You gave me just what I needed.” The young woman licks her lips, a devilish idea popping into her mind. “Are you going to be coming to our next show? There are a few more left; I’m sure the others would love to meet you.” Julie presses herself against you, getting by your ear as she whispers. “I’m more than willing to share with them.” You feel Julie’s hand on your cum-covered cock; she squeezes it lightly before moving her hand along your shaft. “After all, I’m going to be thinking of this beast from now on, and I’m not going to let them spend any alone time with it.” 

“I’ll come, I’ll be there.” Even though you didn’t have tickets, you responded that you would find a way to be there.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to get you in.” Julie laughs, “Now get cleaned up, and have a good night.” Julie pushes herself off the bench and grabs her shirt and hoodie, putting them both on before shuffling to the door. Before she goes, she turns to you. “I’ll blame you if I can’t dance at our next show.” Left alone in the room, you clean yourself as best as possible before heading out. 

The staff hands you back your phone, “Thank you for your cooperation. There’s a door you can use to leave  at the end of the hallway.” You nod and make your leave, noticing a message on your phone when you get to your car. 

It was from Julie. The message read, “We’ll see you soon,”

[twilghtkoo]

pairings. jungkook x bookworm!reader (f)

genre/aus. fluff, established relationship

warnings. the word smut gets mentioned, jk in that fit

note. i’m a huge book lover and have been busy consuming all romance books in my free time and one part of my brain is just jungkook and another part is filled with all the romantic scenes that happen in the books i read and this idea came up :D lmk if u want more jk x bookworm!reader drabbles i actually loved writing this one so enjoy my brain rot,, likes and reblogs are appreciated ! stay safe <3

[ masterlist ]

—

“how’d you find this place, we’ve never been in this one.” jungkook notes, observes the surroundings of the small book store you both entered. floor to ceiling shelves filled with literature and writing of every genre, in different colors and sizes. warm yellow lighting from the lights in the ceiling and the battery operated candles that are placed randomly throughout the store. there’s greenery scattered along the walls and potted plants on the floor and one next to the register, creating a familiar, welcoming environment.

you can’t help but smile when you walk in. “i took a different route home from class last week and saw this place. i wanted to wait to go with you.” you answer, greeting the woman behind the counter with a soft smile.

you feel his hand blindly reach for yours from behind, you first find his pinky then interlace your fingers with his.

“it feels homey in here.” he thinks aloud, as both of you walk by a red worn out couch.

you lead him through the aisles one by one, not having any interest in the specific genres besides your favorite, but looking at the filled shelves brings you comfort.

“oh! they have comics here.” he points to the aisle across from you and now he’s taking the lead.

a comforting silence falls between you both as you skim through each shelf organized by the marvel universe, dc comics, video games and manga. from the corner of your eye, you see jungkook holding a manga in his hand.

“when was the last time you read one?”

he sighs, “i think when i was young, probably about six years ago to be honest. i don’t really have time now.” he slightly pouts at his statement.

you place your hand on his lower back before rubbing soothing circles. “i know you’ve read that one before. haikyuu,” you read the title out loud.

he nods, closing the book and placing it back with the others. “yeah i read like the first few volumes but never finished it.”

you both look throughout the manga selection some more before you manage to talk him into buying at least two volumes of jujutsu kaisen.

he holds the two books in one hand and holds your hand in his other.

you make it to the romance aisle, and immediately take your time looking around. you always feel overwhelmed in the bookstore and feel like you’re taking too long looking in just one section but jungkook always assures you to take your time and look, that he’s not in a rush.

you pick up a book and examine the cover and pages before reading the back, humming to yourself if one peaked your interest but not enough to hold onto it.

“do these have smut in them?” he blurts out next to you.

your eyes go big and you smack him on the arm. you look at the bright neon green sticky note that’s taped to the shelf with the word ‘spicy’. did they have to make it known to the world?

“would you be quiet?” you whisper-yell at him, trying to contain your laughter.

he rubs his arm where you hit him as his eyes blink innocently. liar.

he lets go of his arm and giggles, pulling you close to his side and kisses the crown of your head. “just messing with you.” he smirks.

you scoff, pushing him away lightly but failing because your boyfriend is 5’10 and muscles.

he lets you continue to look around and he does the same but not with a purpose. but he knows if he pretends to busy himself, you won’t feel rushed. and he wants you to take your time.

by the time you reached the end of the romance aisle, you’re holding two books in your hands. one hardcover and one paperback.

“that’s it? only two books you found?” jungkook stares in disbelief, his eyebrow arched.

“a hardcover is expensive.” you tell him. there were other books you found and wanted, but now that you know this place is here, you’ll stop by again one of these days after class and come back for them if they’re still here.

“babe, go get all the books you want.” he waves you off, but you stay put.

shaking your head, “no, i’ll come back for them one of these days after my classes.”

“go get them now.”

“kook, it’s okay.”

“i know it is, but i want to get them for you anyway. you got a new bookcase with more shelves and you need to fill it up.” he says, peering down at you softly but he’s not giving up.

you did get a new shelf, with your paycheck you decided to spoil yourself and get a new one that had five shelves instead of your three. you had a growing collection and you had a tower of books on your floor. you needed a proper space for them.

you bite your lip. “yeah, but i don’t want you-“

he interrupts you by placing his lips on yours, moving against your lips for only two seconds.

the kiss was so abrupt that it had you in a daze.

“go get the books, hardcover or not. i don’t care yn.” he used your name. not babe or baby.

you sigh in defeat, knowing you lost this battle. jungkook offers to hold your books and you let him, you went back for the books you wanted and carefully stacked them onto his hands. it was only ten books you found, but the stack reached to his chest and you felt bad.

“don’t give me that look, baby.” he tells you as you both make your way up to the front to pay.

the lady’s eyes go wide at the tower of books in his hands, but doesn’t say nothing and scans everything.

you inch closer to his side as the lady tells him the total and it makes you gasp. but jungkook is relaxed as the lady asks if we wanted to sign up to become a member and he doesn’t even bother to ask me as he gives her my number for the future. he finishes by tapping his card onto the machine and grabbing the two bags of books.

you thank the lady and you both leave the store. the sky now different shades of blue, orange and red.

“thank you kook, i really appreciate you.” you tell him thoughtfully, sliding your arm through his and holding onto it. he glances down at you with a soft smile, his piercings shining under the sunset.

he hums. “i love you.”

“i love you.”

[munsonsmixtapes]

One Single Thread of Gold Tied Me to You

Evan "Buck" Buckley x fem!reader

summary: After many failed attempts to set you up with someone, Hen and Karen finally decide to set you up with Buck since you both seem to have so much in common. But when you both decline, you keep seeing him around town which leads you begin to wonder if maybe it's fate that you're meant to be together.

cw: wee bit of hurt/comfort

You sit at the restaurant, waiting for your friends to meet you as you peruse the menu, deciding what you’re going to order. You hear your name being called and turn to see Hen and Karen making their way towards you with bright smiles on their faces. You stand up from your chair and pull them into hugs before they sit across from you, picking up their own menus that are on the table in front of them. 

The three of you have been doing these lunch dates for almost a year now and it‘s something that all of you always look forward to. You work with Karen at the lab and after befriending you, she decided to introduce you to her wife and the rest was history. You‘ve become an honorary part of their family and have never taken that for granted, always thanking them for taking you under their wing. 

“So what’s new with you?” Karen asks, her gaze moving up to you from her menu. You don’t have to ask to know what she‘s getting at. You’ve been chronically single since you’ve known her and she and Hen have been trying to set you up with several people that they know as soon as they found out that you weren’t attached. 

“Nothing,” you sigh, setting your menu down on the table. “You know that. So let’s just get this over with.”

“This one’s good, we swear,” Hen assures you and you just roll your eyes. 

“You said that last time and he picked his nose right in front of me before he ate what came out.” The two of them grimace at your words and you can’t help but do the same as the memory plays in your head. 

“Well, this one’s different,” Karen says as she rests her hand on top of yours. How many times is she going to say that before it’s true? 

“And we apologize for you having to see that,” Hen pipes up. 

“Alright,” you sigh. “Lay it on me.” Maybe you’ll give them one more chance and if they blow it once again, you’ll fire them from their job as your matchmakers. 

“We don’t know why we haven’t thought of him before, but it’s Buck.” Buck. The name sounds familiar, definitely one you’ve heard in passing, but for some reason, you can’t match a face to it. 

“Buck?” You’ve never met him and are hesitant to believe either of them considering past events. 

“Yeah, you’ve heard us talk about him before. He’s the one who always has interesting facts.” That’s right. He works with Hen and even though you’re both very close to her, somehow, your paths never seem to cross. 

“Right, so is that the only thing we have in common?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“No,” Karen rolls her eyes. “He’s also not doing great in the relationship department.”

“So you think that by setting us up, we’ll just automatically hit it off? That’s not how it works.” 

“Obviously we’ve factored in much more than that, babe. We understand if you’re not interested, but we feel like this could really work.” Karen’s the one to speak this time.  You’re so over the two of them trying to set you up and are just wanting to be alone until you find someone on your own. 

“Fine,” you reply, pointing a finger at Hen, then at Karen. “But this is your last chance.”

“Well, hopefully this will be the last time we’ll need to set you up.”

“Fingers crossed this one sticks.” Considering that you’re giving them one last chance, you’re really hoping that it’s going to go well. 

“Bobby is having a party next Saturday to celebrate Buck’s birthday and we figured you could meet him there.”

“Okay,” you nod. “What should I get him?”

“Well, we got him a video game he’s really been wanting and it’s part of a series so maybe you could get him the next one?” Hen suggests, but you feel lame getting him something that one of his friends told you to. You want it to be genuine. 

“I’ll think of something,” you respond and just then, a waiter comes to take your order. 

The rest of lunch is spent talking about Buck and how the two of you are allegedly perfect for each other. That remains to be seen, but you’re still holding out hope. Hoping that he really is a good guy and that even if you don’t hit it off romantically, that maybe the two of you can be friends. 

You don’t know why you feel so good about this one, but you’re at least going to try to see what could happen. From what you’ve heard, he seems nice and you really want Hen to be right about this one. And considering that she actually knows him well unlike your other dates, you’re believing that this could be the one to stick. 

“So, what does he look like?” You ask as the three of you head to your vehicles. 

“Look up his Instagram, it’s evanbuckley, all lowercase,” Karen replies and you’re quick to pull out your phone and type in the username into the search bar in the app, tapping on the first profile in the list of results. You go through his photos and can’t help but notice how attractive he is. You’re going to have to do a deep dive later. 

He seems normal enough, but that was what you thought about all the others. You weren’t holding your breath, but at the same time, Hen and Karen seemed much more excited about this one. Maybe it was because they actually knew him and he wasn’t a friend of a friend of a friend or a distant relative of someone they knew. That actually knew him personally which seemed promising. Could Buck actually be the one?

“Yeah, no thanks,” Buck says as sits at the table at the station. He just wants to eat his breakfast in peace and here’s Hen badgering him about going out with you. 

He’s sure that you’re a nice girl and all, but he’s been burned too many times to go down that road again. Buck has also fallen victim to Hen and Karen’s set ups and he’s not doing it anymore. He can’t. He just wants his “me time” that he thinks he deserves after his most recent breakup.  

“Just look at this picture, then.” Hen slides her phone across the table and Buck picks it up, staring down at the photo of you. You’re with Hen and Karen, of course, on Hen’s left while Karen is on the right. You’re all beaming at the camera and Buck can’t help but notice how pretty you are. 

“I also have this one,” she says, swiping to the left to show a selfie of you. It’s a mirror selfie and Buck’s eyes almost bug out at the tight, black dress you’re wearing. He hates how attracted he already is to you and he hasn’t even actually met you yet. 

“Yeah, no thanks,” he shakes his head as he hands the phone back to Hen. He doesn’t want another disaster date on his record. 

But the truth is that he does want to settle down, but he’s scared to actually take the leap. He can thank his abandonment issues for that. He’s been in therapy for that among other issues and he’s still concerned about people leaving him because it’s happened time and time again. 

He wants to find someone who will stay, who he can wake up next to every day for the rest of his life, who he can cuddle up with on the couch after a long day at work. As he thinks about your photo, he wonders if you could be that for him. But he really doesn’t want to log another date in his journal that his therapist made him keep to jot down his thoughts so he can navigate his feelings. 

Buck then spends the rest of the shift thinking about you and whether he should tell Hen that he changed his mind. He’s pondering the “what ifs” about the whole thing, trying to make the best decision for himself. What if you’re the one for him? He doesn’t believe in the whole soulmate thing, but now he can’t help but think about the fact that you could be the one he will spend forever with. 

“Did you know that forty-three percent of Americans have gone on a blind date, but only one out of four are actually successful?” he asks Hen as the two of them hop into the engine, Eddie, Ravi, and Chimney following. “So that’s only a twenty-five success rate.”

“Why are you giving us blind stats, Buck?” Chimney asks as he sits across from Buck, buckling his seatbelt while everyone mimics his actions before putting on the headsets.

“I think Hen and Karen are trying to set him up again,” Eddie responds, giving Buck a nudge with his shoulder. 

“But it’s different this time,” Hen tells him. 

“If I had a nickel,” Buck mutters under his breath as the engine starts up. He’s not going to go out with you, even though he kind of wants to. If he wants to go on a date, it will be with someone he meets organically, not someone his friend tried to set him up with.

Living in a major city, it wasn’t uncommon to see or hear ambulances, fire engines, and police sirens. But it was different seeing them on your street, so close that you could see them down in the cul-de-sac from your bedroom window. It seemed like the fire department was just putting out a small fire. No one was injured from what you could tell. You were mostly seeing when they were going to move since they were blocking your car, but really, you wanted to get a better look at the cute firefighters, your eyes drawn to the one who was using the hose, the name “Buckley” on the back of it. 

Was that-no way. It couldn’t be. But then you see someone who looks scarily like Hen and you decide that it has to be Buck. What are the odds that out of all of the stations in the city that it’s his that would respond to a call on your street? Hen would tell you that it’s fate, but you just think it’s a coincidence. 

There are only so many stations in the Los Angeles area so you don’t think it’s that weird for him to be there. That’s what you’re telling yourself anyway, because you can’t help but feel Hen’s words in the back of your head. 

“See? It’s totally fate, because out of all the stations that responded to the call in your cul-de-sac, it just happened to be ours.”

You think it's all just a coincidence. That is, until you see Buck again a few days later. He’s getting out of his jeep and heading into the coffee shop you were just in. You’re heading to your own jeep and you see that he doesn't have any rubber ducks on the dashboard like yours does. It’s littered with them and you even keep a bag of them in your glove box for moments just like this. 

Reaching for the glove box, you pull out the bag and go through it, looking for the perfect one to leave on his jeep after getting in the driver's seat. You smile to yourself once you come across the little firefighter and decide that it’s perfect. You pull a napkin and a pen from your middle console and scribble down a note along with your name and number before hurrying over to Buck’s jeep before he can catch you. 

You drape the napkin over the handle of the door to the driver’s seat then put the duck on top of it before hurrying back to your vehicle just as Buck comes out of the coffee shop, sipping on the beverage that he’s purchased. 

Buck goes to open the door to his jeep, but notices that there’s something in his way. With his free hand, he picks up the little duck that’s dressed as a firefighter and as confused as he is as to why it’s there, he can’t help but let out a little chuckle as he thinks about how cute the little thing is.

He sets the duck on the roof and then he picks up the napkin, noticing that there’s a phone number and another note underneath it. 

I noticed your jeep didn’t have any ducks so I thought I’d give you a little buddy to keep you company. But if you’d like some company given to you by a human, don’t hesitate to call!

Underneath the number is your name and something in parentheses. 

y/n (Hen and Karen’s friend that they’ve been trying to set you up with) 

That’s why your name looks so familiar! He should know what it is since he’s been stalking your Instagram for days. He had even gone as far as going to DM you, but he backed out at the last second because he didn’t want to weird you out. But considering now he has your number, he guesses that it actually would have been okay to contact you.

Buck gets into his jeep and pulls out his phone, typing out your phone number to save it. Once it’s in his contacts, he finds himself hovering his thumb over the “call” button but ends up backing out at the last second, setting his phone in his cup holder before deciding to head home. Maybe he’d finally get the guts to call you to finally hear your voice, but today’s not the day. 

Once Buck’s jeep is gone, you decide to head home yourself, calling up Karen as you do because now you’re nervous that you’ve made a mistake. She’s always the person you go to when you feel you need help to calm down and her words always seem to do the trick. Your heart races in your chest as the phone rings and you start to panic when she picks up. 

“There’s my girl,” she greets and you can just picture the bright smile on her face. 

“Hey,” you reply, still trying to find the words to say to explain the situation to her. You know it’s silly to call her about something so trivial, but you feel like you need to talk to someone about it. 

“So, what’s going on?” 

You hate that Karen can always read you like a book, that she always seems to know when something’s up. And she’s always there for you whether it’s a shoulder to cry on or just a piece of advice. She just wants to help you in any way that she can since she knows you don’t really have a lot of people in your life that you can rely on. 

“Nothing,” you reply too quickly, sounding rushed. “Maybe it’s something. I don’t know,” you lean your head on the steering wheel, trying to convince yourself that you haven’t done something completely weird. 

“Tell me what it is, babe. Can’t help you if you don’t.”

It’s the reason you called her, isn’t it? The reason you wanted to talk to her, for help. To make sure that you hadn’t done something stupid to turn Buck off. You just want the confirmation and are sure that Karen will give it to you. She always does. 

 You let out a long sigh and then tell her everything from seeing him and the rest of the 118 putting out the fire in your neighborhood and now giving him the firefighter rubber duck with the napkin that had your number on it. What you don’t tell her is how long you spent stalking his Instagram page last night before going to bed and even went as far as typing out a DM to him before quickly backspacing everything before you could actually send it. Yeah, best to not tell her about that one. 

“I don’t see why you’re so worked up about this,” she replies. “Just because he didn’t immediately text or call you doesn’t mean he was turned off by it. Give the man a chance to respond, y/n. It’s been, what, twenty minutes? If he doesn’t respond by the end of the week then you can start freaking out.”

“Fine,” you respond as you pull into your driveway, feeling a bit better but not much. “Fine, I will wait for him to respond.”

“Good,” she nods. “I promise he won’t think it’s weird.”

That makes you feel better, but not much. If it were possible, you’d go back in time and take it all back. You don’t know why you feel so weird about it. You’ve left countless ducks on people’s jeeps so you don’t know why this one is any different. Maybe it’s because you gave him your number and you don’t really do that anymore. 

“Alright, I believe you.”

“Good,” she repeats. “Hey, did you get that address I sent you? The one for the party?”

“I got it,” you confirm. “Saturday at two. I’ll be there.” 

She’s been reminding you about the party for days so there’s no way you can actually forget when or where it is. You actually really hope that Buck is into you. Not only for your sake (because being rejected now after all you’ve gone through just makes you want the ground to swallow you whole.) but also for Hen and Karen because of all the work they’ve clearly put in to set the two of you up. You haven’t heard anything on Buck’s end, but you really hope he’s looking forward to meeting you.

You stare at the gift you had bought for him that’s sitting in the passenger seat and can’t help but smile to yourself at how well you did.You had been stressing all week about finding the perfect gift for him and then eventually found something while scouring the internet. It’s a book with a bunch of fun facts about Los Angeles and California as a whole and you had actually spent the whole night before looking through it, wondering why you hadn’t gotten one for yourself. Maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll let you borrow it.

“I love to hear it,” she responds. “Hey, babe, I’ve gotta go. It’s dinner time and Hen just got home. But please, text me if you need anything alright? I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, then hang up before heading inside. 

The week goes by in a flash and as the days pass, Buck still hasn’t contacted you. You don’t know why you’re so disappointed by it. It’s not like he owes you anything. But now you’re about to show up to his birthday party feeling nothing but awkward, wondering how you can suddenly make time travel possible so you can take it all back. 

But the reason why Buck hasn’t texted you back isn’t what you think. The truth is, he got nervous. He’s been overthinking what he’s wanted to say to you for weeks, opening and closing his messaging app over and over, typing out a long winded message then backspacing it all because he doesn’t like the way it sounds. And maybe he should just be honest and tell you that he’s nervous, but now he feels like it’s too late. Like he’s absolutely blown it. 

He’s staring down at his phone even now, another message typed out to you even though he’s going to see you in person any second now. He still feels like he owes you an apology or at the very least an explanation, because he doesn’t want you to think he’s not interested. Because, fuck, is he interested. 

“Still trying to figure out what you’re going to say to your future wife? Man, you’re going to see her in like ten minutes,” Eddie claps Buck on the back, trying his best to hold in a laugh. He’s never seen Buck so into anyone before and he really hopes this one sticks because with how much he seems to like you, the rejection is going to hurt like hell.

“She’s not my future wife,” Buck rolls his eyes as he pockets his phone, turning to face his best friend. 

“You have been hung up on her for weeks. It’s always y/n this and y/n that. And you keep overthinking your text to her. You’ve never been so into someone like this before so that’s gotta mean something, right?” He asks and Buck mulls that over as the door opens, Hen and Karen entering his apartment, but he’s not even paying attention to anyone once you come in. It’s like everything around you blurs and you’re all he can see. 

You’re wearing a green dress that compliments your skin tone beautifully, and Buck thinks you might as well have wings since you look like nothing but an angel. He’s so drawn to you, watching your every move as you take in his apartment. 

His apartment is really nice and you don’t know you’re imagining what it would look like with all your stuff in it. He doesn’t like you, you have to remind yourself. He made that very clear when he didn’t contact you. You try to wipe that thought out of your head as you look around and once you make eye contact with him, you can’t help but smile, making a beeline for him. 

“Happy birthday,” you say as you hold your arms out for a hug as if you’re old friends. Buck is quick to return your hug, wrapping his arms around your waist while yours are around his shoulders. You’re squeezing each other tight and you bury your faces into each other’s necks as if you haven’t seen each other in a long time. It was to the point where everyone, including yourselves, forgot that this was the first time you were actually meeting.

You pull back to look at him and it’s as if all of your anger towards him melts when you look into his eyes. With the way he looks at you, there’s no way he doesn’t feel the same about you. He has to. 

And just when you’re about to pull away to give him his gift, he pulls you back gently, his grip on you so loose that you can leave if you want to. Buck wants to apologize. He needs to because he can’t move on with the party until he does, the guilt churning in his stomach making him feel queasy. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you know exactly what he’s apologizing for. He doesn’t need to say it. You can tell how sincere he is from the look on his face and it’s obvious to you how guilty he feels. He just wants you to know just how bad he feels for not responding to your very nice gesture. 

“I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just really wanted to impress you and I over thought my response. I guess I could have just told you how nervous you make me feel, but I didn’t want to sound overeager. But I really did like the duck. I know you’re supposed to put it on your dash, but I put it on my keys. 

Buck lets go of you and hurries to the hook where he keeps his keys and he turns to hold them out to you. Sure enough, there’s the little duck amongst the keys and other keychains. You’re so overwhelmed by the sweet gesture that you do the only thing you can think of to thank him for it. 

Before you can stop yourself, you’re grabbing hold of him and pressing your lips to his. He lets out a gasp at the sudden movement, but he eventually melts into you, the two of you so wrapped up in each other that you have completely forgotten that there are other people in the room. 

Buck smiles into the kiss and you mimic him, not being able to stop yourself from laughing into his mouth because of how happy you are. And when you pull away, you see that everyone is looking at the two of you with nothing but smiles on their faces. 

They have been waiting for this for quite a while and as you look around the room at all the party guests, you don’t miss Hen and Karen high fiving each other as a result of a job well done. They think this setup will work so much better than their other ones. And when you look back at Buck who’s staring at you like you’ve hung the moon, you’re beginning to think that maybe it will.

[bellfilmz]

𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Season1!rafe x shy!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which rafe and reader are partnered for a school project and reader is convinced it's a sick joke.

𝐎𝐫

In which rafe Cameron has a crush on his smart shy partner and sees this as a chance to pursue her.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱

⸻

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

⸻

You were determined to successfully avoid Rafe Cameron for the rest of the day.

You ducked out of the main hallway, took the long way to your classes, even ate lunch outside to dodge the dining area where he usually held court like a king among his loyal subjects. For a few precious hours, it worked. No smug smiles. No whispered “smart girl.” No infuriatingly smug confidence radiating off him like heat off pavement.

But Rafe Cameron was nothing if not persistent.

By the time your last lecture ended, you were mentally exhausted and a little paranoid. You could practically feel him around every corner.

You tugged your hoodie tighter as you walked toward the library, mentally rehearsing your talking points for your study session with Jake. Normal, predictable Jake, who didn’t make your heart race or your thoughts scramble.

Except when you got to the library… Jake wasn’t there.

Instead, sitting back in your usual spot, legs stretched out and arm slung over the chair like he owned it, was Rafe.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

“No,” you said immediately.

Rafe looked up, all mock innocence. “No what?”

“No this. You are not hijacking my study session again.”

He gave you a slow, lazy grin. “Jake texted. Said he couldn’t make it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And you just happened to be here?”

“I’m a man of opportunity.” He leaned forward, tapping the seat across from him. “And the opportunity is you.”

You stared at him, deadpan. “That was terrible.”

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “But you smiled.”

You hadn’t, but you hated that he wasn’t totally wrong.

Reluctantly, you sat across from him, arms crossed. “Five minutes. Then I’m leaving.”

“Ten,” Rafe countered smoothly. “I’ll even pretend to read.”

You rolled your eyes but opened your textbook, determined to ignore him. And for a few moments, he was silent. You could feel his eyes on you, though, and it made the words blur together on the page.

Finally, he spoke—quiet, almost hesitant.

“I meant what I said by the way.”

You didn’t look up. “You say a lot of things.”

“I’m not messing with you.”

That made you glance at him. His expression wasn’t smug this time. It was serious, eyes steady on yours like he was daring you to look away.

“And I know we’ve been through this but I feel like every time I break down a wall another one builds up”

You stared at him. Not really sure what to say.

“So I guess what I’m trying to say here is the idea of what you think my intentions are wrong, I promise.”he stepped closer to you.

“Then what are you doing?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Rafe leaned back, tilting his head. “Trying to figure you out.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You act like you hate me,” he said, voice low. “But you let me sit with you. You let me walk you to class. You look at me like you’re just as confused as I am.”

Your throat tightened. “Maybe I am confused.”

His gaze softened. “That makes two of us.”

The air between you was too still, too heavy. You hated how real this was starting to feel—how close he was getting to something that scared you.

So you did what you always did when things got too real.

You deflected.

“You’re still an asshole,” you muttered, flipping a page in your book you hadn’t read.

“Yeah,” he said with a crooked grin. “But I’m your asshole.”

You choked on a laugh and immediately glared at him. “Don’t say that out loud ever again.”

He smirked. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You were.

Before you could form a comeback, he leaned across the table slightly, voice quieter this time. “You know that thing I said about teaching you?”

Something about the way he said it—calm, direct, like it mattered—made your chest tighten.

“Teach me what ?,” you asked softly.

“To accept me”

“And I’ll prove it,” he said. “That I’m not playing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How?”

His smirk returned, slow and deliberate. “Let me take you out.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Dinner,” he clarified. “Not a party. Not some random hangout. Just you and me. One night. That’s all I’m asking.”

You stared at him. Of all the things you expected Rafe to say, that wasn’t on the list.

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, heart pounding.

Rafe grinned like he’d already won. “I can work with that.”

And as much as you hated to admit it…

So could you.

⸻

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

𝐀/𝐍: sorry not gonna lie I had this written for a couple weeks now I just hate 🥹. But there is 4-5 more parts.

⸻

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @angelicameron @rafecqmeronslove @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @jujubeaz @heartzfromluna @redlipstickgirlx @demitrakalogeras12 @drewstarkeysrightarm @jujubeaz @stelleduarte @itsamusical4life @stoned-writer @rrosiitas @akobx @lynoriax @persiar9 @sttaejoon-blog @glenpowellluver

[sturniolohouse]

Warm - M.S.

a/n: hiiii, so this has been in the drafts for a while... finally decided to post it. enjoy !! :)

summary: for the first time as a couple, reader and matt attend wedding together, leading to deeper talks about their future... bf!matt

warnings ! : none just cute shit

word count: 1.7k

song: warm - ariana grande

cause im cool, on my own. but it's warmer in your arms

“We should get married here,” I think out loud, my voice getting lost in the crisp January breeze.

I lean over the railing, gazing at the skyline stretched across and reflected on the dark lake. The mountains in the distance stand tall and stark against the night. The stars shine so brightly in New England, each one just as breathtaking as the next.

New England always has a way of taking my breath away, no matter how many times I’ve been here.

The cold air fills my lungs, but the alcohol running through my system keeps me warm enough to ignore it.

From inside, you can still hear the muffled laughter and the distant bass of music spill out through the double paned glass doors, a reminder that we’ve stepped away from the party. But out here, it’s just us and the brisk winter night.

Matt chuckles softly under his breath behind me in response, the sound faint as another brutal gust of wind whips past my ears and through my hair. Goosebumps rise along my neck and exposed arms, but I stay wrapped up in my daydream.

“Alright, kid. Come on, it’s freezing out here,” Matt says, his voice lighthearted as he rubs his hands together vigorously. 

“Like a fall wedding… when all the leaves turn,” I murmur, still lost in thought.

I hear a deep sigh and some silence falls again, which brings me back to reality. 

I turn to Matt, finding him watching me intently; his head tilted slightly, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his eyes ever so glossy– most likely from the wind. 

His chin points towards me, before shaking his head. “You’re drunk.” he finally states, all while biting back a grin.

My jaw drops in mock offense, and his shoulders shake as he giggles at my reaction. His eyes squeeze shut and he looks away momentarily to hide his smile once more, but the crease on the corner of his mouth deepens.

“I’m not drunk, Matt. I’m serious,” I insist, crossing my arms and standing my ground.

I’m really not. My last drink was an hour ago, and I’ve only had two drinks the entire night– three if you’re counting the glass of champagne from the toast at dinner.

I can tell he’s only teasing me, so I let it go, allowing my eyes to wander down his lanky frame instead. 

The outdoor stone fire pit crackles beside him, illuminating his eyes and casting a warm glow along the right side of his face. His hair is tousled, a few strands sticking to his forehead from the sweat we worked up dancing, cheeks flushed from the cold air– evident by the way his breath clouds in front of his face. His hands are shoved deep in his pant pockets, his shoulders hunch against the chill as he shifts his weight to try to keep warm.

Butterflies swarm my belly and I feel myself warm up simply from taking in his appearance alone.

"Have I told you how hot you look in a suit?" I ask, my gaze dragging over him shamelessly– the silhouette of his shoulders, the broadness the jacket gives him. Down to his pants, where they hug his legs just right, making them look even longer.

I glance back at his face just as he smirks, shaking his head and looking away with a hint of bashfulness before recovering quickly.

He licks his lips, giving me a curt nod. "Yeah, I think you've mentioned it a few times tonight, sweetheart," he says.

The urge to be closer to him consumes me, like a magnet pulling me in, needing the familiar comfort of his touch.

He rocks back on his heels, his teeth chattering slightly as I slowly step toward him. When I reach him, my hands slip beneath his suit jacket, arms wrapping around his middle. I hum softly, breathing him in, soaking up the warmth radiating from his body before tilting my head up to meet his gaze, my heavy lids blinking slowly. 

A content smile tugs at my lips as I lean up, pressing a soft kiss to his chin, then his jaw. The scent of his aftershave lingers, sending another wave of goosebumps down my arms.

He looks down at me as I pull away, his hands still in his pockets, but his body instinctively leans in to mine. Molding into me. His eyes soften as they flit across my face and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. 

“I can’t believe there’s not more people out here, it’s stunning,” I motion to our surroundings and the scene behind me. 

“Maybe because it’s negative 18 degrees out here,” He raises his brows and I roll my eyes, pinching his side. 

He jumps, his body jolting against mine as he yelps but I still keep him close. I laugh maniacally and he barely hesitates before pulling a hand from his pocket, just enough to pinch me back on my ass.

“Ow! Okay, okay– truce,” I surrender, wincing but squirm no further from his warmth.

“Yeah, you know better than to pinch me, you little fuckin’ crab,” he says playfully through his teeth, failing to keep a straight face as I throw my head back laughing.

His lips twitch, betraying the smirk he’s fighting before he places a hand on the small of my back, keeping me steady.

“You’re such an idiot,” I say through giggles, wiping at my eyes—only to collapse against his chest in another fit of laughter.

“Alright, alright,” he grits out, half-amused, half-exasperated, shifting to keep us upright. “You’re gonna take me down with you,” he exaggerates. 

I lift my head, trying to compose myself, but before I can wipe at my face again, he beats me to it, brushing my tears away with his thumb. “You’re a mess, kid,” 

“You just make me happy,” I say without even thinking. It slips out effortlessly because with him, it’s so easy to speak my mind.

His eyes blink once, then twice, like the words catch him off guard. He looks away for a moment, his cheeks flushing a deeper pink. He meets my gaze again, something softer settling in his expression.

“You wanna tell me more about that wedding?” His tigterns his arms around my back. 

My breath gets caught in my throat and now, I’m the silent one. 

“What? You were the one rambling about this fall wedding– go on. I’m listening, tell me more.” He sweeps my hair out of my face with his hands, cradling my head in his hands. 

His attention was all on me. 

“Well, it’d be a small ceremony," I start, my voice soft but certain. "Just the people who matter the most."

“Loving what I’m hearing so far, go on,” he hums encouragingly.

His thumbs absentmindedly brushing against my jaw.

"I want it to be here– well, not here-here. But New England," I clarify, watching for his reaction. "I know how much this place means to you. It would make me really happy to have it here."

His eyes flicker between mine as something soft settles in his expression, like he’s letting himself picture it.

"Early fall would be a good time of year," I continue, my voice turning a little dreamy. "Not too hot, not too cold."

“Best season, so again, I’m loving what I’m hearing.” 

I let out a small breath of laughter, shaking my head. "You act like I’m pitching you a business proposal."

His smirk grows, a teasing glint in his eye. "Hey, it’s a big decision. Gotta make sure I’m on board with it all."

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the way my stomach flips when his hands move back down, locking behind my back. He tugs me just a little closer, closing the space between us, and leans in– his face inches from mine.

His voice drops, softer now, low enough that it feels like a secret meant just for me.

"Okay, okay. But, you know in my head, you’re already my wife. A party to celebrate that would just be the cherry on top." He murmurs into the side of my face. 

I’m not sure why, but my breath catches and my heart skips a beat. My fingers instinctively tighten around the lapels of his suit jacket as I pull back to look between his eyes, his gaze unwavering.

We joke about it all the time, how we act like an old married couple, we’ve lied to servers about celebrating our first year wedding anniversary just for free dessert.

But, I think it was the way he said it so casually, so sure.  

Another flood of warmth runs through me when I see how serious he’s being. 

"Matt," I murmured speechless, my heart hammering against my ribs.

He smirks, tilting his head slightly. "What? Don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true. You’re it for me, kid."

I don’t even hesitate to throw my arms around his shoulders, hiding my face into the crook of his neck. His hands find my hips, holding me gently as he rocks us side to side. Our heartbeats moving in sync– recognizing one another, like they’ve known each other in every lifetime.

I hear the door sliding open before the music from inside floods into the air and pulls us out of our moment. 

“Alright, lovebirds, get back inside. They’re serving the cake now—holy fuck, it’s cold,” Nick calls out, hugging his arms around himself dramatically.

Matt groans, his forehead tipping against mine. “There goes the peace.” 

I giggle uncontrollably, catching Nick’s eye over Matt’s shoulder. Matt doesn’t even acknowledge him, just buries his face into my neck, still wrapped around me like I’m his human shield. 

“We’ll be right there, Nick,” I say, rubbing Matt’s back absentmindedly.

Nick shakes his head in disbelief. “You two are nuts. I think I actually just caught pneumonia from being out here for thirty seconds.”

He bolts back inside, muttering under his breath, and I can’t help but laugh as the door slides shut behind him.

Matt lifts his head and breathes in deep, eyes closed like he’s mentally preparing to reenter the chaos.

I squeeze his hand gently, watching the way his shoulders rise and fall with that slow, dramatic exhale.

“Ready?” I ask, my voice soft but teasing.

He cracks one eye open at me. “No. But… cake awaits.”

I grin. “Cake does await.” I lean up and peck the corner of his mouth, already reaching for his hand to pull him toward the door.

But before I can take a step, he pulls me right back against him.

His hands cup my face, and he kisses me, slow and tender. The kind of kiss that makes your head spin and your stomach flip. The kind that lingers, even after it’s over.

When he finally pulls back, breathing against me, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Okay. Now, I’m ready.”

[mintyys-blog]

SCREAM FOR ME 3 | mark variants x reader

MINI SERIES LIST

You quickly stumbled back to the stone wall where you’d first fallen through. Your palms pressed flat against the cold, damp surface, feeling frantically for the pressure point you’d accidentally leaned on before.

The footsteps were getting closer. Heavy. Steady. Getting louder.

Your heart rammed against your ribs. “Come on, come on—”

And then—click.

The wall turned with a low rumble, flipping you back into the cave. You caught yourself before you fell this time, your chest heaving as you let out a quiet, desperate breath of relief.

You were out.

The creature from before was gone—vanished, no trace of it near the waterfall anymore. Maybe it slithered back into the walls. Maybe it was still watching. You didn’t care right now. You needed to go.

You crept back up the cave path, careful to stay silent, and soon the familiar sound of your dysfunctional little group came into earshot.

As you rounded the corner, you nearly jumped as you ran right into someone—Maskless Mark.

He crossed his arms over his chest, brow raised. “Where were you?”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Oh… uh…” You forced a casual tone, even though your heart was still racing. “Just by the waterfall.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Alone?”

“Yeah,” you lied smoothly. “Needed a minute.”

“From us or the weird bat-shit creatures?” he asked, skeptical.

You shrugged, glancing over his shoulder where the others were still gathered, mostly distracted. “Both?”

He gave you a long look, like he wasn’t quite convinced—but didn’t push. “You shouldn’t wander off. One of those things wakes up, and we’re not dragging your corpse out of a monster’s mouth.”

You nodded, trying to keep your breathing even. “Got it.”

He tilted his head. “You sure you’re alright?”

No. Not even close.

“Yeah,” you said anyway, forcing a small smile. “Just tired.”

Maskless Mark let it go with a small grunt, turning away. As he walked back toward the others, you stood frozen for just a second longer, eyes flicking back toward the waterfall, and the secret wall behind it.

The skeletons. The bones. Your bones. All of them holding onto you. Your hands curled into fists. You didn’t know what kind of game this planet was playing… but you weren’t going to let history repeat itself. Not if you could help it.

You slowly made your way back to the group, mind still reeling. You glanced at each of them as you passed—Full Mask, Striped, Sinister, Mohawk, Viltrumite, No Mask, Omni, Prisoner… alive. Talking. Bickering. Oblivious.

For now.

Sinister Mark was chewing on something again, probably jerky he’d dried from last night’s kill. He didn’t look up, but he muttered, “have fun?” You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t. Your lips parted, but the words got stuck in your throat.

Viltrumite Mark glanced over from where he was checking one of the makeshift weapons. “You good?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… like I said. Needed air.”

Prisoner Mark was working with Striped Mark, examining the filter Omni Mark had found earlier. “This thing might actually work. Could clean enough water for all of us—if we can power it.”

“We’ll need to run tests,” Striped added. “One mistake and we’re all shitting blood.”

“Fun,” Mohawk muttered.

You sat down near the fire pit—now just cooled ash—and stared into the empty space it left. You couldn’t stop thinking about the skeletons. The bones. How they held you, protected you, even in death.

This wasn’t the first time. Something was wrong with this place. A loop? A cycle? Were you doomed to die with them, over and over again?

Or worse—were they doomed because of you?

You looked up just in time to see Sinister Mark staring at you.

He tilted his head.

You quickly looked away.

No Mask Mark broke the tense silence. “If we can get the filter working, we should start hauling buckets. Cave water’s the cleanest we’ve seen.”

“Who’s volunteering for cave duty?” Full Mask Mark asked, spinning a jagged piece of metal between his fingers.

You raised your hand automatically. “I’ll go.”

Every head turned.

“No,” Viltrumite Mark said sharply. “Not alone again.”

You swallowed. “I’ll take someone with me.”

“Take me,” Sinister said with a wicked grin. “We can bond.”

“No,” you and Viltrumite Mark said at the same time.

Omni Mark stood, stretching his arms with a pop. “I’ll go with her.”

You blinked in surprise. He rarely volunteered for anything unless he had to.

“You sure?” Striped Mark asked.

“I’m not babysitting her,” Omni Mark replied flatly. “But someone needs to make sure she doesn’t wander off again.”

You offered a weak smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

As the two of you grabbed the empty containers and started toward the waterfall entrance, you felt the weight of several gazes on your back—especially Viltrumite Mark’s.

Watching. Judging. Calculating.

You didn’t know if he was worried for your safety or the secrets you might be keeping.

Omni Mark walked ahead of you in silence, not even glancing your way.

“Didn’t take you for the helpful type,” you muttered.

He grunted. “I’m not. But I’d rather not have to fight those things because you tripped on your own feet and screamed.”

“Wow. Touching.” The cave entrance loomed ahead, and your heart pounded. You weren’t sure what you were more afraid of—the red-eyed creature that had vanished… or the truth hiding just behind that stone wall. One thing was certain: you couldn’t keep this secret forever.

You settled down beside the edge of the waterfall, feeling the cool mist on your skin. The sound of the water crashing against the rocks was surprisingly calming—soothing, even. For a moment, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and breathe in the peaceful rhythm of it.

“Do you think we will ever get out of here?” you asked softly, your voice barely carrying over the roar of the water.

Omni Mark, who had been quietly watching the flow of the water, turned to you. He didn’t answer right away, as if the question required more thought than he was willing to give.

“Not sure,” he finally replied. “But it’s not about if we get out… it’s about how we get out.”

You glanced up at him, confused. “How?”

He shrugged, his tone unusually reflective. “We survive. We keep fighting. That’s all we can do. If we make it out, then great. If not…” He paused, his gaze hardening. “Then we make sure we don’t go down without leaving our mark.”

A part of you wanted to believe him. Wanted to hold on to that hope that there was a way out, even if it seemed impossible. But something inside you whispered that it wasn’t as simple as just fighting and surviving. You had found something—something important, something that could change everything—but you couldn’t tell him. Not yet. Not when you didn’t even understand it fully yourself.

You turned your attention back to the waterfall, watching the droplets shimmer in the dim light.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I guess.”

But the question that gnawed at you—What if we never get out? What if we’re stuck here forever, repeating the same thing over and over again?—remained unanswered.

You didn’t know if Omni Mark would understand. He would just think you were overthinking, as usual. He had enough on his plate without worrying about some strange, eerie cycle of death that seemed to be tied to all of you.

No, you couldn’t tell him. Not yet.

You just had to figure it out on your own.

The silence between you both stretched for a while, only interrupted by the constant rush of water. For a moment, you felt at peace, as though the world could still be right. Even if just for a little while.

“Thanks for coming with me,” you said, breaking the quiet. “I don’t know if I’d want to face this alone.”

Omni Mark gave a rare, fleeting smile. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

You snorted. “Yeah, because I’m such a troublemaker.”

His lips twitched. “Well, you’re not exactly the most responsible person I know.”

You grinned. “True. But that doesn’t mean I don’t try.”

He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his features. “As long as you don’t wander off on your own again, we’ll be fine.”

You leaned back, staring at the vast expanse of water, trying to push the growing anxiety gnawing at you aside. What would you do when the others found out? What if you were right? What if the skeletons—what if everything—was a warning? Would they believe you?

Omni Mark turned to you once more, breaking the tension. “You okay?”

You hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about everything.”

He nodded, seeming to accept your answer, though his eyes narrowed slightly. You couldn’t tell if he believed you or if he was just letting it go.

The two of you sat in silence for a while longer, the sound of the waterfall filling the empty spaces between your thoughts. But as you stared at the water, a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. And the longer you waited to tell them, the harder it would become.

But you couldn’t tell him yet. Not when you had no idea how to explain it. Not when you didn’t even fully understand what was happening.

You needed answers. But most of all, you needed to make sure you weren’t already too late.

You tried your best to stay awake, to push past the exhaustion that was creeping up on you like a heavy weight. You couldn’t afford to sleep—not with everything you had found, not with the uncertainty still hanging over you like a dark cloud.

But the rhythmic sound of the waterfall, the cool mist that kissed your skin, and the weight of the day’s events all took their toll. It was hard to keep your eyes open, your thoughts sharp. Your body ached, and every bone in your body screamed for rest.

“Stay awake,” you whispered to yourself, trying to fight off the growing pull of sleep.

But it was a losing battle.

The exhaustion won out, and before you could even process it, your head gently leaned to the side. The next thing you knew, you were resting against something warm and solid. Your eyes fluttered open for a brief second, realizing that you had unconsciously fallen asleep on Omni Mark’s shoulder.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips, and you tried to pull away, feeling the awkwardness of the situation, but your muscles felt like they were made of lead. Everything inside you was telling you to stay where you were, just for a moment longer.

Omni Mark didn’t say anything. You could feel his body shift slightly, but he didn’t push you away. His shoulder was surprisingly comfortable, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt… safe.

You inhaled deeply, the exhaustion pulling you under, and despite everything—the strange discovery, the eerie feeling of being trapped, the uncertainty—you fell asleep, your breath steady and calm against the soft fabric of his jacket.

You didn’t dream.

When you finally woke, it was with a jolt, your heart racing. The peaceful weight of sleep was gone, replaced with the familiar tension in your chest. You blinked, trying to get your bearings, and slowly realized that your head was still resting on Omni Mark’s shoulder. You’d fallen asleep for who knows how long.

You pulled away quickly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you looked around, hoping no one had noticed. It was only then that you realized how much time had passed—the others were no longer in sight.

Omni Mark turned his head slightly, his eyes slightly narrowed as he looked down at you. “You okay?” His voice was soft, low, and there was a hint of amusement in it, but also something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

You quickly sat up, rubbing your eyes and trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness. “Yeah… just, uh… didn’t mean to doze off.”

He gave a small chuckle. “It’s fine. You needed the rest.”

You cleared your throat, standing up and brushing off your clothes. “Thanks for… you know. Letting me fall asleep on you.”

“No problem,” he replied, his tone steady but still carrying a hint of that same quiet amusement. “Better than falling asleep in the middle of a fight.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the small flutter of warmth in your chest. “Right. Yeah.”

The awkward silence stretched for a moment, and you both stood there, side by side, as the sounds of the waterfall filled the space once again. The tension between you was subtle, but it was there. You didn’t know what to make of it, but for now, you didn’t have the time to dwell on it.

“We should probably get back to the others,” you said, the urgency of the situation slowly seeping back into your mind. “They’ll be wondering where we are.”

Omni Mark nodded, standing up as well. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

As you both began to make your way back, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. Maybe it was the rest, or maybe it was the quiet, unexpected comfort of having someone beside you when everything felt so uncertain. Either way, you knew there were still questions to answer—and whatever was waiting for you back with the others, you would have to face it head-on.

Maskless Mark took his position quietly, stretching his arms as he kept watch near the edge of the cave entrance, where the dim glow of the waterfall cast long shadows across the stone. You laid back in your makeshift bed, a folded jacket as your pillow and a blanket of salvaged fabric draped over you. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but the exhaustion hit fast.

You were asleep within minutes.

The others murmured among themselves, huddled around a faintly glowing patch of moss near the wall. Prisoner Mark leaned back on one hand, the other gesturing as he spoke. “If there’s a whole nest of those things sleeping down there, then that means they had to come from somewhere—like a hive. A structure. A city, maybe. Built under the sand or even lower.”

“You’re thinking ruins?” Mohawk Mark asked, brows raised.

“More than that,” Prisoner Mark replied, his eyes scanning the walls thoughtfully. “Could be tech down there. Energy. Maybe even something to get us off this damn planet.”

Full Mask Mark crossed his arms. “Right now, survival comes first. We reinforce the cave, set up shifts, hunt cautiously. We can’t afford to get cocky.”

The group nodded in agreement, eventually splitting off—each one taking on small tasks. Mohawk Mark went to check the perimeter, Striped Mark and No Mask started patching up weak points in the walls. Omni Mark sat silently for a while before vanishing deeper into the cave system, likely to explore a bit more on his own.

Full Mask Mark lingered.

He stayed near you, silent, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest. At first, there was peace in your expression… but then it twisted.

Your brows drew in, your body tensed under the blanket, and soft, broken cries began to leave your lips. It wasn’t loud—barely more than a whisper—but Full Mask Mark noticed immediately. He crouched beside you, watching as you twitched, your hands gripping the edge of the jacket beneath your head.

You whimpered again.

Then a whisper, breathy and scared: “Please… don’t leave me here… don’t leave me…”

His heart clenched in his chest.

Without thinking, Full Mask Mark reached out and placed a hand gently on your back. His thumb rubbed small, slow circles between your shoulder blades, grounding, steady.

“It’s okay,” he murmured softly, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “Everything’s going to be okay. You’re not alone.”

You still trembled, the nightmare clinging to your mind, but you began to settle. His hand stayed there, gentle, never pushing. Just present. A quiet promise in the middle of all the chaos.

Your breaths slowed. The tension in your limbs faded. You didn’t wake—but the nightmare loosened its grip. And Full Mask Mark sat there beside you, his expression unreadable behind the broken, discarded mask that lay near the fire.

“She doesn’t deserve this,” he whispered more to himself than anyone else. “Not this place. Not us.” But he didn’t move. He stayed.

The days blurred together in a slow cycle of building, hunting, and sleeping. The base took shape steadily, walls reinforced with debris and scavenged metal. The variants worked together, at least on the surface—but the tension ran deep, simmering beneath every word, every glance.

“You’re putting the water storage too close to the entrance,” Viltrumite Mark said, his arms crossed as he watched Prisoner Mark weld together a piece of scrap.

“It’s efficient,” Prisoner Mark muttered, not looking up. “Easy access.”

“Easy for the creatures too,” Viltrumite Mark snapped. “Move it.”

“Don’t bark orders, wonder-boy,” Sinister Mark cut in, kicking back against a rock. “You’re not in charge.”

“No one is,” Mohawk Mark added. “Or all of us are. Either way, stop acting like you’re king.”

Viltrumite Mark’s jaw clenched. “Someone has to lead. We’ll die without structure.”

“Oh, and you’re the structure?” Sinister stood slowly, stepping closer. “You just want control.”

You stepped back instinctively as their voices rose, drawing closer to Full Mask Mark, who stood silently at your side. You didn’t realize how tightly he was gripping your wrist until you tried to pull away.

“Easy,” you whispered, tugging your hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His hold loosened—barely—and he leaned down, voice low behind the smooth steel of his mask. “Just stay close to me.”

Later that night, you sat alone near the edge of the camp, watching the fire crackle. You needed a break from all of them—their bickering, their stares. The weight of being the only non-variant, the only person who didn’t come with a built-in plan or powers or violence—it pressed down on your chest.

You heard it then. A rustle just beyond the stone ridge. Your eyes scanned the dark.

It was there. The red-eyed creature. The same one.

It stood, unmoving, almost like it was waiting for something. You swallowed hard, stepping back—and it mirrored you. One foot behind. One step back.

Then, it crouched and placed something on the ground. A piece of torn fabric. Familiar. Your shirt. From before the last fight. You didn’t tell anyone.

The next day, Sinister Mark woke you up by jabbing your side with a stick. “Time to pull your weight, sweetheart,” he grinned. “Or do you just sit pretty all day?”

Before you could snap back, Viltrumite Mark was at your side. “She’s not your plaything.”

“You sure about that?” Sinister’s grin widened. “She doesn’t belong to anyone. Yet.”

“She’s not part of this argument,” Full Mask Mark added sharply. “Back off.” They were all looking at you now.

Again. Always. By the time evening fell, you noticed another symbol near your bedding—drawn in ash and blood.

Two overlapping circles, with a third smaller one between them. Like they were orbiting you. Or protecting you. Or targeting you. You wiped it away before anyone could see. But the creature was still watching. Closer now. Smarter. And it wasn’t alone anymore.

You sat beside Target Mark, the quietest you’d felt all day.

He didn’t say much unless he had to, which made him one of the only ones you could actually breathe around. You had been holding it in for hours—days, maybe—and now it was pushing to the edge of your throat.

“I think the creatures are watching me,” you whispered.

His gaze flicked to you, sharp, focused.

“There’s more,” you continued, lowering your voice. “I think they’re… smarter than they look. They mimic. They leave things. And the symbols—I’ve seen at least three now, drawn near where I sleep.”

He leaned forward slightly, brows drawn tight, finally ready to respond—when a yell rang out behind you.

“Don’t walk away from me, asshole!”

Sinister Mark’s voice. Followed by a loud crash.

You turned to see Mohawk Mark shove him hard, sending Sinister stumbling over one of the makeshift barriers. Dust kicked up as they grappled, fists flying, insults shouted between gritted teeth.

Target Mark’s eyes shifted toward the fight. Just like that, his focus snapped away.

Omni Mark stood watching them for a moment, arms crossed. Then he turned with a low sigh and walked off, disappearing into the crumbled stone corridors without a word.

Viltrumite Mark scowled and muttered, “I’ll bring back something edible,” before shooting into the air with a sonic boom that rattled the stones.

Prisoner Mark didn’t even flinch. He sat with his back to the chaos, methodically sharpening his crude blade, stone scraping against stone with rhythmic patience.

You turned back to Target Mark, wanting to finish your thought, but he was already on his feet—watching the fight with disinterest, as if waiting to see who would tire out first.

Before you could say another word, a familiar presence loomed behind you.

Full Mask Mark.

You jumped slightly at how quietly he’d appeared, but he gently placed a hand on your back and leaned down. “Come on. You don’t need to be around this.”

You wanted to object, to stay and finish the conversation with Target—but Full Mask was already guiding you away, steering you toward the back of the cave. His hand lingered, never quite letting go of you.

You glanced over your shoulder. No Mask Mark was watching. His expression unreadable—somewhere between suspicion and contempt. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t stop you. But his glare followed every step you took.

You hesitated—only for a second— letting the distant sound of the others’ arguing fade behind you. His steps were quiet, measured, his shoulders tense but not angry. There was something different in his silence this time.

He led you through a narrow corridor, half-collapsed in places. Sand and stone crunched beneath your feet, and the air felt heavier here—thicker with dust, quieter. He finally stopped at a dead end, one you hadn’t seen before. The wall looked solid at first glance, but then he stepped aside, revealing a jagged crack low to the ground.

“I thought you would like this,” he said simply, voice softer than usual. “The Y/N from my world… she loved flowers.”

You blinked, crouching beside the opening. Inside, nestled in a sliver of light breaking through the stone, was a single white flower growing from the cracked ground. It looked impossibly fragile—like it shouldn’t be able to exist here. Just as he reached in to pluck it for you, you stopped him—your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“Wait! Don’t touch it—” you said quickly.

He paused, confused, until his eyes trailed down to your hands, where your fingers were still lightly touching.

“If you pluck it, it’ll die, right?” you said, voice soft. “Let it grow. It could be… our symbol of hope.”

Full Mask Mark froze. His brows furrowed, but not in annoyance. Just surprise. “Hm. I never thought of it like that.” He looked in deep thought. You decided to break the silence.

You looked up at him. “Earlier… you said your Y/N liked flowers? What was she like?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed on the flower, eyes distant. “She was…” he began, slow, like the words didn’t come easy. “She was soft in ways I didn’t know how to be. Kind. Hopeful. She made the world feel less like a graveyard.”

You waited, letting him take his time. “She used to plant things in our backyard. Even when the soil was dead. Said it helped her feel like she was still part of something—something alive.”

He leaned back against the wall, voice growing quieter. “I didn’t understand it. Not then. I told her it was a waste of time.”

His jaw tightened, a shadow passing over his face. “She died when everything went to hell. Kept trying to hope, even when we lost everything. She tried to hold on to me, too. But I… I couldn’t save her.”

You saw it, the way he held himself too still. Like if he moved, the grief would spill out. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “Don’t be. You’re not her. But… sometimes it feels like you are.” The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was fragile. Like the flower. Like the moment.

“I wanted to give you something,” he said suddenly. “Something that wasn’t just violence or survival or fear.” You looked at him, your smile faint but real. “You did. This is enough.”

He didn’t say anything, just nodded once and looked back at the flower. And for a little while, neither of you moved. Just two broken people standing beside something that had no right to be alive. But somehow… was.

His hand moved with a gentleness you hadn’t seen from him before, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face before settling against your cheek. The callouses on his palm were rough, but his touch wasn’t.

“You look so much like her…” he murmured, his thumb barely grazing your skin. “It’s easy to forget you’re not her.”

His voice cracked slightly at the end, like he didn’t want to admit how much that truth hurt. How much he wanted to believe you were her, even if only for a moment.

Then, without fully thinking—or maybe because he’d thought about it too long—he lifted the bottom of his mask. His lips were close to yours, breath shallow. His eyes searched your face, hesitation flickering behind them. He leaned in slowly, cautiously, as if expecting rejection. As if waiting for you to pull away and remind him who you weren’t.

But you didn’t.

You met him halfway, lips pressing softly against his in silent understanding. His breath hitched as he returned the kiss, hesitant at first, then deeper—hungrier. It wasn’t about lust. It was memory. It was grief. It was desperation to feel something good again in a world that only gave them dust and death.

His hand slid behind your neck, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear. You could feel the weight in him, the grief tangled in the way he kissed you, like he was trying to bring her back through you. And maybe, for just a moment, he did. But when he pulled away, he didn’t let go.

He kept his forehead against yours, eyes closed. “I know you’re not her,” he whispered, voice breaking. “But thank you for letting me pretend.”

When you and Full Mask Mark made your way back, the air had changed.

The yelling had stopped.

Mohawk Mark was crouched by the fire, tossing small stones into it like a bored child, his face tired. Sinister Mark leaned against a far wall, arms crossed, eyes closed—but his jaw was still tight, clearly biting back the urge to start something again.

Omni Mark had returned from his silent walk and now stood near the edge of the encampment, sharpening a long bone he’d fashioned into a spear. He didn’t look up when you returned, but the way his shoulders eased said enough—he’d noticed.

Viltrumite Mark had also come back, a slab of meat over one shoulder. He dropped it without ceremony onto the flat rock they’d been using as a prep table. “Dinner,” he grunted, before stepping back into the shadows, ever watchful.

Prisoner Mark was still at his post with that ever-sharpening rock-blade, eyes flitting between everyone. Always calculating.

And Maskless Mark… he was watching you. He didn’t say anything, but he saw how close Full Mask was to you. How your arm brushed his. How the silence between you had weight.

No one said it aloud—but they all noticed.

You sat beside the fire again, feeling how it pulled the shadows away. Full Mask sat beside you without asking, his hand brushing yours only for a second before pulling away.

No one argued now. The tension was there, just beneath the surface, but the fight had burned itself out—for now.

They passed around bits of dried fruit and meat in silence. Not quite peace, but close enough.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted toward the dark hall behind you. The one with the white flower. The one that still felt like a secret. Like a promise.

And as you looked around at them—the men who all had different faces but the same eyes—you realized something chilling: You were at the center of all of them.

The reason they hadn’t torn each other apart. But for how long? And what would happen when you became the thing they started fighting over again?

You tore into the meat, chewing carefully. It was tough, dry in places, but it had something the others hadn’t—weight. You could feel it, like the protein was slowly soaking into your muscles, giving back the energy this place constantly stole from you. You looked up and noticed the others too—stronger shoulders, sharper focus. They were healing. Getting stronger. Even Prisoner Mark’s sunken eyes looked less hollow.

But your mind wasn’t on the food.

It drifted—back to the waterfall. Back to the flower. And even further back, to the creature. The one that watched you. That didn’t attack. That waited.

It wasn’t like the others. It was larger. Its limbs longer. The red in its eyes didn’t glow—it burned. You knew now: that had been an adult. The others, dormant in the cavern… they were just the young.

And something about it still followed you. Not just in memory—but in presence. You could feel it. That’s when Target Mark cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence around the fire.

“She told me something,” he said casually, but his voice held weight. “About the red-eyed ones.”

A few heads turned. Sinister Mark’s eyes snapped open, and Omni Mark stilled his blade. Even Mohawk sat up straighter.

You froze mid-bite.

“She said one followed her. Didn’t attack. It… mimicked her. Watched her.” He leaned back, his eyes on you now. “You want to tell them what else you told me?”

All eyes turned to you.

You slowly set the food down, wiping your hands on your pants. “It wasn’t just following me. It was studying me. Like it… recognized me.” Your voice was quiet, but steady. “Since then… they’ve been acting strange. Smarter. Moving in pairs. Leaving things outside the camp.”

“What kind of things?” Prisoner asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Symbols,” you said. “Rocks in strange shapes. Dead animals. Once, a piece of cloth that looked like mine.”

“That’s not following,” Sinister Mark muttered. “That’s worshipping.”

Or warning, you thought, but didn’t say it. Viltrumite Mark stepped forward now, arms folded. “You didn’t think to tell us this sooner?”

“I wasn’t sure,” you said, gaze flicking to Target Mark. “And I didn’t want to start a panic.”

“Too late for that,” Mohawk muttered under his breath.

“They think she’s something,” Full Mask Mark said lowly, gaze locked on the fire. “Something important. Maybe even dangerous.” The silence that followed was thick. Omni Mark finally broke it. “So what do we do?”

Sinister Mark tilted his head, eyes on you like you were a puzzle he couldn’t crack. “We find out why she matters to them.” Viltrumite Mark’s expression hardened. “Or we use her to get answers.”

You stiffened. “I’m not bait.”

Sinister leaned back, “then what other use could you be? Maybe food..” he almost drooled at the thought. You shivered, “not this again..”

The fire crackled, the air thick with the weight of your words. They didn’t immediately respond, just stared, unsure whether to believe you or if they were too tired to process anything else. But you could feel their eyes on you, each of them waiting for an explanation.

You took a deep breath, your gaze flicking from one face to another. “There’s something else…” You hesitated for a moment, the words heavy on your tongue. “I didn’t tell anyone yet because it didn’t seem like the right time, but… I saw our skeletons. In a secret room behind the waterfall.” You saw their eyes widen, some of them even leaning forward as if drawn by a magnetic pull. “And I heard footsteps. Someone else is here. I think… maybe we’re stuck in a kind of loop.”

The silence that followed felt like it could stretch for eternity. You could hear the distant sounds of the creatures still hibernating in the next room, the occasional shifting of their massive forms, but nothing else. Not a word.

Target Mark was the first to speak, voice cold but laced with disbelief. “Skeletons?”

You nodded, a chill running through your spine as you remembered the way they’d been arranged—your skeleton, your clothes still clinging to the bones of it, and the others—torn and lifeless, arranged like a morbid display.

“Yes. It wasn’t just mine. It was all of us.” You felt the weight of their gazes on you, could feel the flickers of disbelief in their eyes. “It was… it was like it happened before.”

Sinister Mark tilted his head, the sharpness in his eyes increasing. “You think this is some kind of trap? Like… we’ve been here before?”

“I don’t know,” you said, voice shaky. “But when I walked into that room, I felt like… like everything was familiar. Like it had happened already. And if that’s true… if we’ve been through this before…” You didn’t finish the thought, the heaviness of it sinking in.

“You think it’s a loop?” Omni Mark asked, his voice softer now. “Like a time loop? Or some kind of twisted reincarnation?”

You nodded slowly. “I’m not sure how, but it feels like that. I think it’s why we’re all here. To repeat this again. But why? And for what?”

Full Mask Mark leaned forward, his mask still hiding most of his face but his posture tense. “It doesn’t make sense. If we’ve been through this before, why are we still here? Why are the creatures getting smarter?” His voice was low, controlled—almost like he was speaking to himself as much as to you. “Maybe it’s not just about us.”

Viltrumite Mark was the last to speak. “So we’re all stuck here, and now we’re being hunted by creatures that worship her and leave offerings outside?” He shook his head. “This is worse than I thought.”

You flinched at his words, the weight of them sinking into your chest. “What if we are the ones who keep doing this? What if the loop keeps going because we don’t figure it out in time? We’ve been stuck before—maybe even died before—just like that.”

Prisoner Mark stood up, tossing his knife into the fire as if the weight of the conversation was too much. “This is insane. I don’t even know what’s real anymore. The loop… the creatures… her—” he gestured toward you, anger flickering in his eyes, “—what are we supposed to do with her?”

Sinister Mark cut in before you could respond. “What he means is, if she’s tied to this loop, then we have to know how to stop it. If this is happening over and over, there’s got to be a reason. We need answers.”

You met his gaze, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something other than menace in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to bring this on us. I don’t even know how to stop it.”

No Mask Mark, who had been silent this entire time, finally spoke up, his voice softer but serious. “We need to stick together,” he said, eyes locked on you. “If it’s a loop, then maybe it’s not just about surviving. Maybe it’s about breaking free.”

Viltrumite Mark’s jaw clenched as he stood up, pacing, his footsteps heavy. “Break free? And how do we do that? With these monsters and the fact that we can’t trust anyone in this place?” His voice grew sharper with every word.

You could feel the tension in the room—he was right. You were all trapped. And no matter how much you tried to explain, the distrust was growing. It wasn’t just about the creatures, or the loop, or surviving anymore. It was about control. And each of them wanted it.

“Whatever happens,” you said quietly, “we need to figure it out together. The creatures aren’t the only threat.”

The group fell silent, the fire crackling in the background, and in that moment, you realized that no matter what you did, the game was changing. The loop, the creatures, the fights—everything was pointing to something bigger, and none of you would leave this place the same way you came in. And as the night stretched on, the tension thickened, just as the creatures began to stir once more.

The conversation lingered in the air, but the weight of the moment finally took its toll on you. You could feel your eyelids grow heavy, the adrenaline that had kept you alert starting to wane. Your body was tired, and no matter how much your mind tried to stay focused on the looming uncertainty, it was no use. You found a quiet corner, laying down on your makeshift bed, the soft murmur of the variants still talking in the background, but it all felt distant as you drifted off.

It wasn’t long before you were asleep, the exhaustion from the past few days finally catching up with you. The warmth of the fire and the distant sounds of the creatures provided a strange sense of comfort, even if everything felt wrong.

Meanwhile, the others were still tense, but the conversation had died down. The reality of the situation was sinking in, and the group settled into an uneasy silence. Most of them were still processing what you had said, trying to come to terms with the idea of a time loop, and the growing intelligence of the creatures surrounding them.

Prisoner Mark, who had been mostly quiet through the conversation, looked around the camp. The others seemed distracted by their thoughts, and some had already begun to fall into a restless sleep. He knew that the night shift would be his. Despite the lack of trust between the group, he wasn’t about to let his guard down. The threat outside wasn’t going to take a break just because they were tired.

He moved toward the perimeter of the camp, keeping his eyes sharp and his movements quiet. He sat down against a nearby stone, his knife resting on his lap as his eyes scanned the shadows. The creatures might be in hibernation for now, but that didn’t mean they were out of danger.

As he kept watch, his gaze drifted back to where you were sleeping. You seemed at peace for once, the tension on your face easing as you slumbered. Prisoner Mark found himself watching you for a moment longer than he intended. He had never been one for sentiment, but seeing how much the group was starting to rely on you… it stirred something in him. You had some kind of connection to this place, whether you realized it or not. And despite how complicated everything had become, it was clear that you were one of the few things keeping everyone together.

Still, the mission was the mission, and survival came first. He couldn’t afford to let anyone—especially you—get too comfortable.

His eyes snapped back to the shadows, where movement had caught his attention. It was quick, barely noticeable, but something—or someone—was out there. His grip on his knife tightened, and he silently rose, moving toward the source of the disturbance.

Every sound was amplified in the night. A soft rustling, the faintest scrape against stone, the shifting of air. Prisoner Mark’s instincts kicked in, his every sense attuned to the slightest change. He wasn’t sure what it was—whether it was one of the creatures or something else—but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

His mind briefly flickered back to you, sleeping peacefully behind him. If anything, he needed to ensure this place stayed secure. For the group’s sake, but also for yours. Despite everything, he wasn’t going to let you—or anyone—fall victim to whatever dangers lurked just beyond their camp.

He took a step forward, the shadows swallowing him as he moved further into the darkness.

You woke with a sharp inhale, something off—something wrong.

The fire was still low and crackling, casting long shadows across the stone walls. But the spot where Prisoner Mark had been sitting earlier… was empty.

You sat up fast, scanning the area, heart beginning to pound. “Mark?” you whispered, just loud enough to hear yourself. No response.

He was gone.

Panic clawed up your throat. He wasn’t the type to wander without reason. Something happened.

Without thinking, you scrambled over to the sleeping form of Mohawk Mark and shook his shoulder urgently. “Hey—hey, wake up.”

He groaned, eyes cracking open just barely. “Babe, not now—let me sleep…”

“But—” you started, only for his head to turn the other way, slipping back into unconsciousness.

Useless.

You stood quickly and turned toward the hallway, the same one that led to the room where the creatures were kept dormant—hibernating.

At least, they were.

Your steps were soft but fast, your breath catching in your chest. You should’ve woken more of them. Should’ve waited. But the thought of something happening to Prisoner Mark—it made your skin crawl.

You reached the room and stopped cold.

The creatures were awake.

Dozens of them, their tall, wiry bodies hunched and twitching in the dim light. Their glowing red eyes turned, all of them, locking onto you at once.

Your breath hitched, and instinctively, you took a step back.

A low growl rumbled from one of them, its long limbs starting to stretch out toward you. Then another moved, and another, slow and creeping—almost… deliberate.

Your feet moved before you could think, and you spun around to run— Slam.

You ran into something behind you. Solid. Tall. Warm. And furry.

Your chest pressed into the thick, matted chest of something massive. A drop of warm drool hit your cheek, sliding down your face. You froze, paralyzed by the sick feeling blooming in your gut.

Slowly, you tilted your head up.

It was the same creature from before—the adult. Its elongated skull, bone-white and dripping with saliva, loomed over you. Its jaw unhinged, stretching wide as its hot, rancid breath fanned across your face.

You didn’t scream, you couldn’t. Your body locked as you tried to move, but it was too fast.

It lunged.

You dropped just in time, scrambling on all fours as its teeth snapped where your head had been. The screech of frustration echoed behind you as you rolled to your feet—but the creature wasn’t done. A huge paw slammed down, pinning your side. You gasped, pain radiating through your ribs as it shoved you down hard.

Its maw opened again, so close you could see the twitch of each muscle, the ropes of spit hanging between its jaws.

And then— boom.

A blur of motion. A fist, heavy and fast, collided with the creature’s head, sending it flying into the others like a wrecking ball.

You sucked in a breath as the pressure disappeared, eyes wide as the hulking body was thrown back in a crash of limbs and snarls.

And standing above you—bloody knuckles, sharp eyes, breathing hard—was Prisoner Mark.

“Get behind me,” he said, voice low, dangerous, without even looking at you.

You didn’t hesitate.

You scrambled behind him, clutching your side where the creature’s paw had slammed you down. It throbbed, but adrenaline numbed most of the pain. Your heart hammered in your chest as the horde of red-eyed creatures began to recover, rising from the heap like a swarm disturbed.

Prisoner Mark stood like a wall between you and them, muscles tensing as the creatures hissed and snarled, but hesitated—almost like they were… watching. Calculating.

“I counted 50 before,” he muttered. “There’s at least 90 now.”

“They’re getting smarter,” you whispered, voice shaking. “They waited… they knew I’d come alone.”

He didn’t turn his head, but his hand reached back, gently guiding you further behind him. “We’re not dying here.”

One of the creatures stepped forward. Then another.

Suddenly, one of them screeched—not at Mark, not at you—but at the others. Like a command.

They froze. Heads turned. Then slowly, unnervingly… they backed away.

You and Prisoner Mark stared, barely breathing as they melted back into the shadows of the room, their eyes remaining fixed on you. Watching. Following your every move.

You didn’t know if it was a warning or… something else.

“…They didn’t attack again,” you whispered. “Why didn’t they attack?”

“I don’t know,” Prisoner Mark said, finally turning to look at you. His brow was furrowed, jaw clenched tight. “But they had you. That one almost killed you.”

You looked up at him, shaken. “Why were you down here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I heard movement… thought one of the others had gotten up.” A pause. “I followed the noise and saw you walking this way. Then I lost you in the dark.”

Your eyes dropped, breath catching. “You saved me.”

He didn’t respond at first. Just looked at you, gaze heavy. “You don’t get to die here. I won’t let it happen.”

You swallowed, heart caught in your throat. You hadn’t realized how close he was until now. Your noses were almost touching and you could feel his breath on your face.

“We should go,” you said softly, the quiet broken only by the distant shuffling of the creatures retreating back into the dark.

“Yeah.” He wrapped an arm carefully around your waist, supporting your weight. “Come on.”

Together, you limped back down the corridor, the flicker of firelight welcoming you at the end. But as you looked back one last time… they were still there.

Watching.

And in the middle of the floor, where you’d been pinned—was a small, half-broken bone carved with a symbol.

Left behind. For you.

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[ashes-of-rozes]

In Chicago, I Feel It

༼Part Four༽

Warnings: allergies mentioned (seafood), Annisa being Annisa (yes, that’s a warning), choking (not the fun kind), mentions of harassment, this took a dark turn and I apologize

The days blurred together after that.

Mark was gone long hours; usually gone by the time you woke up and slipping in behind you as you just started to drift.

You managed to catch him before he left this morning. Your eyes flutter open and land almost immediately on Mark fussing over food on the desk.

“Mark?”

Your voice is groggy and tired, eyes barely open. He looks over at you, “You’re allergic to seafood, right?” You nod, sitting up, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, “Yeah, why?” So the doctor had done more than just grope you when he was getting medical history. “Who the fuck serves fish for breakfast anyways,” he says, glaring at the food.

“Countries are different,” you mumble, tossing the blanket off your legs, “I just won’t eat the fish.”

Instead of cold stone, nothing but soft and warmth lay under your feet. You look down, shuffling your feet against the soft fabric. “What…”

“I didn’t know what house slipper were,” Mark says, throwing the fish into the trash, “But you said your feet were cold.” You stare down at the rug under you, “It’s … blue?”

“Yes.”

You look up at him, “It’s colorful, is my point. There hasn’t been any color in this building. It’s just weird.” Mark turns to you, “Do you not like it? I didn’t know what else to pick.” You frown, “You picked it?” He nods, “Yes.” You stare at him a moment before looking back at the rug.

“There is something I want to talk to you about,” he says, “I must speak to the humans. To give them one last chance to surrender. We’ve killed too many.” A lump forms in your throat. “I want you to speak to them,” he adds, “I have spoken to our tailors and they’re fixing your suit. I want you to speak to them as a hero, an ally. And as my partner.”

You stare at him like he’s lost what sanity you gave him credit for. “Ask people to give up their freedom,” you shake your head, “We’ve been through dictators already. No one really wants to do that again.”

“You’ve complied thus far.”

He’s not wrong.

And it makes you dizzy.

“You haven’t given me much of a choice,” your argument is weak even to you. “I’ve given you plenty,” he says, voice cold, “You haven’t tried to escape. You’ve continued eating and you’re staying healthy— I think you like it here.”

You feel nauseous.

“Thare not fair,” you choke out, “I was taken against my will— I don’t wanna be here.”

Mark’s in front of you in the blink of an eye. Nothings on fire and yet there are flames burning in his amber irises. He grabs your chin so hard you swear something cracks.

So this is how you die.

By the hands of a Viltrumite you mouthed off to.

The end.

Except nothing happens. Mark continues to stare at you. Is this the last thing people saw before they died? The image of death seared into their brains.

Mark’s been extremely patient with you since you arrived. Never once pushing things too far or forcing you to have sex with him. You thought you knew how he was when he was mad. But this … this is different. He looks irate but also hurt. Like you not wanting to be here is the deepest insult you could’ve shouted.

He continues to stare at you like he’s searching for something. Like you’re the one person who holds the answer to all his problems. Yet, at the same time like you are the problem. Like all this is your fault— the world ending, getting kidnapped.

It’s all your fault.

Why wouldn’t it be? Everything else is.

“I’m not forcing you to speak,” he says. His voice is a few octaves lower than usual, “I don’t … force you to do anything. But you are going, I can’t control that.” You stare up at him, opening your mouth to speak but all that comes out is a yelp of pain. The fire dies in his eyes and his grip loosens, “Think about it. The speech is Friday.” His hand falls to his side and he turns to leave.

You reach out to grab his wrist, “Can I go to the greenhouse today?” He stares at you, jaw flexing as he swallows, “Yes.” You nod, letting your hand fall. Mark takes a deep breath and leans down, brushing hair from your forehead and placing a kiss to your forehead. Your breath catches in your throat. Mark does this a lot. Mainly when he thinks you’re asleep; crawling under the covers late at night, kissing the back of your shoulder or the top of your head.

“Just … don’t wander off. It’s not safe out there,” he cups your face with one hand, “I’ll give you everything you could ever dream of if you just comply. Just for a little while longer.” Your gaze lingers on his features. His eyes look almost pleading. You nod, “Okay.” He sighs, “Thank you.” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, gives you another forehead kiss and then leaves for the day.

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and look out at the sky. You look back down at the rug, shuffling your feet and smiling.

Mark was such a confusing person. He could look like he wanted to snap your neck one second and then caress you the next.

You walk over to the desk, staring down at the food, finding the empty space where the fish used to be. You sit down, eating the eggs and hashbrowns.

It's weird that someone would serve fish with this. And uneasy feeling bubbles in your throat

Your eyes find the bracelet on your wrist, twirling it between your fingers. You tug on it gently but it doesn’t budge. Defeated, you make your way to the bathroom. Splashing your face with water and brushing your hair to get ready for the day.

You change into a comfortable shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Feet bare (because no one on Vultrume knows what shoes are apparently) you make your way to the roof.

Probably.

It’s hard to tell what is what.

Three right turns and then …

Then …

“Fuck,” you mumble. Do you go straight? Turn left?

You turn left, heading down the corridor, looking for a door the said ‘roof access’ but tbh the time you realize it’s not here, you stumble upon a wide space with two big doors. Like the ones in movies that lead to an evil lair. You look over your shoulder, making sure no one else is here before you walk up to the doors. You grab the handle, pulling on it.

It doesn’t budge.

Stupid Viltrumite strength.

You dig your feet into the ground and pull harder. It creaks softly.

Okay, maybe it’s not Viltrumite strength. Maybe it's the doors themselves.

By the time the door is open enough for you to squeeze through you’re pretty sure you’ve pulled six different muscles and extorted your lungs enough to lay off exercise for a year. When you do manage to squeeze through the door slams behind you. You wince at the echo.

Your eyes widen.

It’s a library.

A big, open, beautiful library.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of books, old and new. It brings a small comfort, a familiar smell reminding you of home. Before you can think any better of it, you walk further inside, letting your hand glide along the spines of the books.

“Are you insane!”

You jump, turning to the shouting. That’s Mark’s voice.

“She could’ve died!”

You freeze, peaking your head around the corner of the shelf. In the far distance, Mark and another girl with short black hair are standing.

The girl scoffs, “So?” Mark is silent for a beat, “Annisa, if she dies because of you, I will make your death very slow and very painful. I will torture you until you’re begging for death. And then I’ll torture you more.”

You squeeze the wooden shelves, heart drumming heavily in your chest.

Annisa scoffs, looking amused, “She’s too weak for you Mark. If she can die from something as simple as food, she can’t give you what you want.” Mark scoff, “What exactly do you think I want?” “An offspring,” she replies casually, “But I can provide one. A strong one. A healthy one.”

Oh god. If you have no purpose anymore, is he going to kill you? Throw you in jail?

“I don’t want you,” he replies, cold and authoritative, “I want her. I’ll wait until she’s ready.” Annisa glares at him, “And if she never is?” Mark’s hands ball into fists at his sides, “That’s her choice.”

“It doesn’t have to be. You can easily overpower her,” she scoffs.

Breathing picking up, you stumble back, eyes on the exit— when you hear it. The soft sound of a book hitting the floor. You freeze. Your heartbeat is echoing in your ears, fear freezing you on the spot.

A gust of wind and then the ground is no longer below your feet. You look up to meet the gaze of the woman Mark was talking to. Annisa smirks, hand wrapped firmly around your neck, “You’re the object of his affection?” You claw pathetically at her hand, vision quickly turning black. The world around you is blurring.

Your muscles go lax.

Mark punches her, sending her flying through several bookshelves. You gasp when she lets you go, tears filling your eyes. Mark catches you before you hit the ground, pulling you close, gently touching your throat. Bruises are already forming.

A soft groan off to your side but Mark ignores her. “What are you doing here,” he asks, frowning. “Got … lost,” you gasp out, tears spilling from your eyes at the pain.

“You bastard. You hit me!”

You flinch at the voice and Mark instantly pulls you closer, keeping you pressed against him, arms wrapped around you protectively. You cling to his shirt. Mark might scare you— with his raw strength and ability to get mad so easily— but right now he’s your lifeline.

Mark finally acknowledges Annisa. When he speaks, the rooms temperature drops from the ice in his voice, “You hurt her.” Annisa laughs, like it’s funny, “If she can almost die from that she’s weaker than I thought! And you want her? I’m right here!” You cling tighter to him, silently begging him to not throw you aside. You don’t wanna die.

Mark looks down at you, noticing you shaking in his arms. He presses a soft, hopefully reassuring kiss to the top of your head, breathing in your scent. His eyes snapped up to Annisa, angry and fueled with fire, “I don’t want you. And if you even think about touching her again I will kill you.”

“Your father would disapprove of that,” she said. “Then I’ll kill him too,” he replied instantly, “You are here simply as a messenger between planets. You can easily be replaced.” Without another word, Mark scoops you into his arms and leaves.

Somewhere in the maze of the place, he finally speaks, “Can you talk?” You nod, shaking slightly less now that she’s not in the same room as you, “H-Hurts.” His grip tightens on you, “I’ll get a doctor.” You shake your head. Mark frowns, “Flower—“

“Bath.”

He hesitates. He’s never done that before.

“Doctor after,” he said, “No arguing.” You nod.

Once back in the room, Mark immediately goes to the bathroom. He gently sets you on the edge of the tub, keeping one hand on your hip while the other turns on the faucet. Once he’s appeared it warm enough, he clogs the drain and turns back to you.

“You got lost,” he asks. You nod, embarrassed that a wrong turn could lead you to almost dying. “Three right turns,” he said, drawing an invisible map on your thigh, “Straight. And then left.” You nod, tears drying as you stare at his hand. “I’ll draw you a map,” he said, “I should’ve done that to begin with.”

You gently grab his wrist, ���I—“ You cough softly, throat still sore, “Library?” Mark looks up at you, “You want to go?” You nod. He sighs, “It’ll be under reconstruction for a few days, but after that, yes. And I’ll get you a map for that as well.” He gently squeezes your thigh, “I’m going to call for a doctor. Relax in the bath as long as you wish.”

You don’t wanna be alone. Even if Mark is your only company.

But you have no right to ask him to stay.

Mark leaves and you watch the tub fill up with water. Once it’s filled, you turn it off and strip off your clothes, sliding into the warm water. A sigh escapes you and your muscles relax.

〤〤〤

You stay in the tub until the water’s gone cold and Mark comes in.

“Making sure you’re still alive,” he says, setting a pile of clothes on the sink, “The doctors waiting when you’re ready.” He stares at you, eyes eagerly roam over your naked body under the water. He stops himself and leaves without another word.

You stay in there for another minute before you drag yourself out, the water draining scratching your ears as you put on your pajamas.

You look at yourself in the mirror, wincing at the bruising across your neck. You gently trace a finger along the purple marks, frowning.

With a deep, painful breath, you walk back into the room. Mark is beside you almost immediately, guiding you to the bed like you're an eighty year old woman who’s gone blind. Once you settle, he drapes the ends on the comforter over your shoulders and sits beside of you.

The doctor is a younger man this time and his presence is calming.

“Nothing seems to be permanently damaged. Hot tea should fix it in a few hours. The pain will fade eventually,” he says. “How long,” Mark asks, “Will she be in pain for?” The doctor pauses, “Hard to say. A day or two? But she should be back to speaking within a few hours.” Mark nods, “That’s all. You’re dismissed.” The doctor leaves a moment later.

Mark kisses your temple, “I’m going to get some hot tea. Just relax.” You don’t have the energy to fight. To protest.

You snuggle under the covers, ignoring the fact it’s still sunlight outside. A few moments later, the door opens again. You tense. “Just me,” Mark says, crawling into bed behind you, “Sit up, you need some tea.”

You reluctantly pull yourself up and take the tea from his hands.

After the first few sips, your throat relaxes. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, taking another sip of tea. Mark frowns, “What are you apologizing for?” You turn to him, “You were busy today and I—“

“The Earth will still be there tomorrow,” he interrupts, “Your health and safety are far more important.” You swallow, wincing at the pain it causes, “That girl … were you two a thing?” He grumbles, “No. and we never will be. She’s strong, yes, but she’s not my mate. She’s not you. You’re stronger than her in ways she can’t understand.” You nod, taking another sip of tea.

“I’m serious,” he says.

It’s a lie. You’re not strong. You’re weak. You abandoned your teammate and your friend because you were afraid of death. You complied with an alien emperor because he was too strong.

“Maybe she’s right,” you mumble, “Why do you want to … reproduce with me anyways?” Mark is silent.

For too long.

“Our offspring deserves a mother. A parent,” he says slowly. You look at him, “And you?” “I have a job— conquering this planet and protecting its life. An offspring is simply to reproduce. To lengthen my bloodline,” he explains.

“And if you didn’t have to do that,” you ask, “Would you still want kids?”

Mark turns away.

“With you? I’d want anything.”

masterlist

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: @heiankyonoeiyuukun , @maddyb-rapps , @bluerrie , @fruticake , @mileskisser , @nappingnai , @lingxio , @missybabes

That is not at all where I was planning to take this chapter but now I leave you with a cliffhanger (?)

Anyways, you guys are great as always!! Love you and thank you for all the support!!

||part three|| ||part five||

[heelvng]

EXTRA CREDIT, EXTRA FEELINGS— JAY

┊ academic rivals to lovers · fake dating · fluff with tension

“you didn’t have to defend me in there,” “i wasn’t defending you. i was defending us.”

synopsis

you and jay have been academic rivals since freshman year—always one-upping each other, always toe-to-toe in class debates. but when your psychology professor assigns a semester-long project on relationship dynamics… and pairs you together?

you’re forced to fake date. for extra credit.

you both hate it. until you don’t.

pairing ⟶ jay x female!!reader

genre ⟶ academic rivals au, fake dating, slow burn, fluff w/ tension

word count ⟶ 4.9k

💌 heelvng note : though this took me forever to finish (bc im the biggest procrastinator in the world), my heart is so fuzzy and warm every time i read this. may your heart be just as warm and fuzzy like mines, happy reading everyone !!

—

you started to think professor park had it out for you. there was no way, no actual way, you were going to survive a whole semester of this.

it had been one week since the project started, and already, jay was getting on your last nerve.

“you walk so damn slow,” jay grumbled as he walked beside you down the quad, hands stuffed in his pockets.

you shot him a glare. “then walk ahead of me. no one’s forcing you to stay by my side.”

“oh, but they are, sweetheart,” he smirked.“professors orders. we have to act like a couple, remember? it be weird if I just left you behind.”

you scoffed. “the only weird thing here is you calling me sweetheart. never do it again.”

jay let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “you’re so fun to bother. this is going to be great.”

“you mean miserable,” you corrected, rolling your eyes.

“Same thing.”

the two of you had to meet up at least three times a week—in public—to convince people you were “dating.” professor park insisted that this wasn’t just a private assignment; your classmates needed to see the relationship progress over time. which meant you had to be seen together, talking, walking, eating—hell, you even had to sit next to each other in lectures now.

“okay, let’s get this over with,” you growled as you reached the campus café.

jay raised an eyebrow. “you say that like I’m not the best fake boyfriend you could’ve gotten.”

You gave him a pointed look. “I would rather date a lizard.”

he put a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “damn. you really know how to flatter a guy, yeah?”

you ignored him, pushing the café door open. as expected, the place was packed with students grabbing their usual coffee fix. you spotted beomgyu in the corner, already watching you with an amused grin. he was way too entertained by all of this.

jay noticed too. “your little fan club is watching,” he murmured. “time to sell it, babe.”

you froze. “enough with the pet names. my stomach can’t handle you saying it.”

“but babe.” his smirk deepened. “gotta make it convincing, right?”

you clenched your jaw so hard it hurt. but before you could curse him out, he did something worse—he threw an arm over your shoulders.

your entire body stiffened. “get. off..”

“nah,” he said casually, steering you toward the counter. “couples don’t stand a foot apart like they hate each other. relax.”

you wanted to strangle him but your peers were m watching, along with a handful of other classmates who had heard about the project.

if you shoved jay off you now, it’d look suspicious.

instead, you plastered on the fakest, most sickeningly sweet smile you could manage and turned to him.

“jay?”

“hm?”

you grabbed his wrist, nails digging into his skin as you pried his arm off your shoulders, he lets out a small yelp from your sharp nails digging into his flesh.

then, you leaned in just enough to keep up appearances—your voice dripping with venom.

“if you touch me again, i will make sure you don’t live to see the end of this semester.”

jay, the absolute menace that he was, just grinned. “damn. threats already? we’ve only been fake-dating for a week, babe.”

you smiled even wider, “it feels like forever!” you sarcastically exclaimed, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the cafe food.

jay only chuckled, stepping forward to place his order. you could already tell—this project was going to be the death of you.

–

you’re now six weeks into the project and things couldn’t have gotten any worse. he had to dorm with you—and goodness, does he know how to ruin your space.

it was five minutes past seven and you were doing your skincare while he was in the shower. you had on your avocado mask and a fluffy headband holding back your hair.

the shower water shut off, and you paid no mind to a half-naked jay stepping out. it didn’t even cross your mind what it would feel like to drag your finger down his abs. you suppressed those thoughts. they’d only get in the way of the assignment.

“that coconut vanilla shampoo does wonders,” he said, rubbing a towel through his jet black hair.

you shot up immediately. “you used my shampoo?!” your blood was practically boiling.

“yeah? i didn’t take a lot,” he said, motioning to his hair. “i don’t have that much, babe.”

you groaned, falling back against your pillow.

jay walked over to the microwave, where his ramen—well, your ramen now—was supposed to be waiting. he opened the door to find it empty, only the faint scent of broth lingering.

“did you eat my ramen?” he asked, eyes locking on you instantly. a small smirk curled on your lips.

“that was my last ramen!” he dragged out, sighing like the world was ending.

“then you should’ve labeled it, genius.”

“why can’t this assignment just be easy? why do you make it harder than it should be?”

“because i don’t like you, jay. simple as that.”

he went quiet for a beat.

“why don’t you like me? i haven’t done anything wrong to you except be an academic rival. during this whole assignment, i’ve treated you with nothing but care. and i’ve even let you treat me horribly.”

you stared at him. his face full of emotion—serious in a way you weren’t used to. you couldn’t handle it.

your phone vibrated, reminding you to take off your mask. you took that as your escape, walking briskly to the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, leaving jay standing there, confused and alone.

—

a few hours later, jay was strumming his guitar softly. the tune was… calming.

it made your shoulders relax without permission, and you hated that. you turned to face the wall, pretending to scroll through your phone.

he started humming to the melody, and as good as it sounded, it somehow irritated you more.

“can you not play the guitar like you’re in a movie? some of us are trying to ignore our feelings.”

he chuckled under his breath. “you’re the one who ran away, not me.”

“i didn’t run. i just needed a second,” you said, still turned away, your eyes tracing the cracks in the wall like they could give you the words.

“okay. so… what’s really going on?” he set the guitar down and sat up, giving you his full attention.

the room fell silent. the heavy kind. the kind that filled your ears until your heartbeat was the only thing you could hear.

“i always thought you were better than me,” you said finally, your voice low. “you make it look easy. you never have to try. you walk into a room and people pay attention. professors love you. you get everything right—without even breaking a sweat.”

jay looked confused. “is that what you think?”

you turned over to face him. your chest tightened.

“i’ve been killing myself trying to measure up in every class. and then you show up—perfect, smug, smart—and suddenly none of it matters. i feel like i can’t succeed when you’re around.”

his eyes dimmed. like you’d knocked the light right out of him.

“i never meant to make you feel like that,” he said quietly, his thumbs fidgeting in his lap.

you didn’t know how to respond. it wasn’t like jay to be so serious, so in tune. and now that he wasn’t hiding behind his usual grin, you didn’t know where to look.

neither of you spoke after that.

but the silence didn’t feel tight anymore.

it felt softer. like something heavy had finally been placed on the table—and for once,

neither of you were rushing to pick it back up.

you stayed like that, facing each other in the low light.

and maybe that was enough.for now.

—

it’s been nine weeks into the assignment, and after that big confession in the form, you and jay suddenly got closer. the kind of close where people couldn’t tell if the relationship was real or not. the kind of close where even you couldn’t tell if it was real or fake.

“professor park wants to see us—evaluate us super quickly,” you told jay, your head resting on his shoulder as the two of you sat outside, watching the campus.

“when?” he asked, his hand wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

“in the next five minutes. we better get going since we’re a little far from his office.”

you and jay walked into professor park’s office a little out of breath. you were adjusting your sweater as you both took a seat in front of his desk.

professor park looked up, smiling slightly.

“you two have gotten… comfortable.”

you and jay glanced at each other. honestly, he wasn’t wrong. but neither of you said anything—because what was there to say? it had gotten comfortable.

then he leaned back in his chair and added, “there’ve been a few murmurs about your relationship. some of your peers think you’re playing it up too much… that it looks unrealistic.”

your chest tightened. that familiar self-doubt crept back in, sharp and sudden.

“is it unrealistic to care about someone?”

the room stilled.

jay didn’t look at you. his gaze was fixed on professor park, voice calm but firm. “i don’t care what they think. they’re outsiders. we’ve done everything you asked us to—but this? this isn’t just for a grade anymore.”

you glanced at jay from the side, your heart uncertain of what to do in this moment.

professor park studied the two of you—your words, your body language, your silence—before picking up his clipboard and jotting something down.

“you’re dismissed,” he said, still writing.

after you left the office, you were too stunned to speak. jay didn’t say anything either, not until you both stopped just outside the door.

he finally turned to you. “i meant that, by the way.”

“which part?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“all of it. every last word.”

you let that settle between you. it wasn’t a full confession, but it felt like one. and the scariest part? you didn’t want to run from it.

instead, you said, “you didn’t have to defend me in there.”

“i wasn’t defending you,” jay said, and for a moment your heart dropped—until he added, “i was defending us.”

you stared at him. he stared back. and for the first time since the assignment started, the space between the lines began to fill with something true.

—

the walk back to the dorms was silent, but comfortable. it felt spacious, like there was more to say, but the moment wasn’t asking for it yet.

you and jay didn’t speak—just walked side by side. your fingers brushed once, then again. the third time, he took your hand in his without a word.

it felt easy. it shouldn’t. but it did.

the campus was softer now, less crowded, and the sky was a dusty blue—the kind of blue that suggests something’s about to happen, especially with the breeze picking up.

jay didn’t let go of your hand.

and neither did you.

when you reached the dorm, you both stopped—like stepping inside would shatter whatever this moment was.

“you sure about earlier?” you asked, not looking at him.

“completely.”

you nodded once. barely.

you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. you didn’t look up—until you did.

and when your eyes finally met, the tension returned. it was quiet. full. almost too much. your body moved before your thoughts could catch up. you leaned in, slow—giving him time to move away if he wanted to.

he didn’t.

your lips brushed against his once—hesitant, questioning. and then again, more certain.

it wasn’t a grand kiss. not rushed or greedy. just soft. slow. like a quiet truth exchanged between mouths instead of words.

his hands moved without thinking—one gently at your waist, pulling you in just enough. your hand curled in the fabric of his hoodie, the other resting on his chest where his heartbeat stuttered under your palm.

jay didn’t push. he didn’t exaggerate the moment. he just kissed you like he meant it. like he’d been waiting for this moment to mean something.

when you finally pulled back, it was barely an inch. eyes still locked. the wind moved around you both—a gentle reminder: this just happened.

his forehead rested against yours. noses brushed.

“was that okay?” he asked, voice low.

you nodded. “yes.”

and it was more than okay. it was real. terrifyingly real.

you stayed like that for a moment—hands tangled, hearts too loud. then, quietly, jay opened the door.

but this time, when you stepped inside, it didn’t feel like something was ending.

it felt like something had just begun.

—

it’s been thirteen weeks in the assignment and tomorrow is the exam and you’re currently doing math work from your other professor. your brain is fried from the numbers and letters clashing together on paper and it’s bothering you.

you want to call jay over to help you but every time you think about asking for help you feel less highly capable of doing things by yourself and it takes you back to where you’re confessing your feelings to him.

jay sensed your frustration and creeped over to your side of the room.

“need help?” he offers, his hand resting on your bed frame.

you needed the help but you knew you were highly capable of doing the work. “no jay, i’m fine. thanks,”

jay’s face softened. “don’t shut me out like that, let me help you.”

your pencil stilled. you could hear the sincerity in his voice, quiet and steady.

you stared down at the numbers again, blurry and jumbled on the page like as if they were laughing at you.

“i just—“ your voice cracked. you swallowed hard. “i hate the feeling like i can’t do it when i know i’m capable. i know it’s stupid… but when i ask for help it feels like i’m failing.”

jay didn’t say anything to you. instead he crouched, eye level now.

“asking for help isn’t failure,” he said softly. “you’re one of the most capable people i know. seriously. you don’t have to prove that to anyone, not even me.”

you looked at him surprised by the earnestness in his voice.

“but i always feel like i do,” you admitted. “like if i’m not the best than what am i? and when i see you—it’s like everything just comes easy to you. i feel like i’m constantly catching up.”

jays eyes didn’t move from yours. “you’re not behind me. you’ve never been behind me.”

you blinked, a lump in your throat formed and your eyes daring to spill tears. you hated crying over your own flaws.

“then why does it feel like i’ve been running this whole time?”

jay reached out, taking your pencil from in between your fingers and placing it aside. then he took your hands in his.

“maybe you’ve been running,” he said, “but not because of me. maybe you’ve been running because nobody told you that it’s okay to rest. breathe. and ask for help,”

your hands stiffened in his.

“you don’t have to prove yourself to me,” he continued, voice lower than a whisper now. “you already got my respect. and more.”

you eyes widened.

“more?” you echoed.

he gave a faint, bashful smile. “yeah, more. i think somewhere between all the pretending , it stopped being pretend to me.”

your heart skipped a beat. you knew. you’d known. but hearing it? it shifted somewhere deep in your heart.

“me too.” you said quietly, “i stopped pretending weeks ago.”

the silence that followed was light and comforting.

“so,” he murmured brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “can i help you with the math now?”

you let out a light laugh. “only if you promise not to correct me too smugly,”

he grinned. “deal!”

—

the next day arrived faster than you wanted it to. despite the emotional gravity of the night before, there no time left to process it. not when professor park scheduled your evaluation in-front of the entire class.

you stood outside the lecture hall with jay by your side, heart thudding loudly in your chest. the door was already open. students were chiming in, curious and excited. this was the finale part of the experiment: a verbal demonstration of what the couple had learned.

no scripts. no notes. just honesty.

jay nudged you with his shoulder. “ready?”

you have a small shake to your head. “no. you?”

“not even a little,”

but his smile was reassuring.

when your names were called, the two of you stopped in-front of the door together. your classmates started whispering and you weren’t sure if they were waiting for drama or a love confession or perhaps both.

professor park folded his hands. “you’ve completed thirteen weeks of this

project. today, we ask one simple thing. what have you leaned about each other.”

the room was silent.

jay looked at you, then turned to the class.

“i’ll go first,” he said.

your heart clenched.

“when i started this, i though i’d just annoy her for a few weeks, play the part, and get it over with. but something changed,” his voice was calm but full. “i started paying attention. to how she always pushes herself harder than anyone else. to how she doesn’t ask for help, not because she’s proud, but because she’s afraid of being less than perfect. to how she shows up, again and again, even when she’s tired, even when she’s overwhelmed.”

he paused.

“she’s the smartest person i’ve ever met. not just academically but emotionally. she feels everything deeply and on another level, even when she’s tries to hide it. and along the way i stop pretending to care about her.”

jay looked at you—then really looked at you.

“because i do. i care about her. a lot.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat saving that for another time before you faced the class.

“i hated him.” you said bluntly, earning a few laughs. “he walked into every class with this stupid snarky smirk on his face and an even more perfect gpa, and i thought he was everything i didn’t want.”

you glanced at him, eyes softening.

“but then he started helping me. not just with school, but myself. he made me realize that it’s okay to ask for extra assistance and that it doesn’t make me weaker. he never made me feel small, even when i was spiraling. he just stayed. patient. steady.”

your voice lowered

“somewhere between the fake dates and late night studying, i started looking forward to everything—just because he’d be there.”

jay’s gaze flickers to yours, full of

something warm and bright.

professor park took a few scribbles on that same clipboard , but the room

stayed silent. almost breathless.

“thank you,” he said at last. “you’ve both exceeded expectations.”

the class broke into applause. a few people even whistled. but all you heard was the sound of jay’s breathing next to you. steady. grounding.

—

later that night you find yourselves back where it all started—the quad, now quiet under the golden wash of the campus.

jay had his hands in his pockets, walking slowly beside you.

“so,” he said eventually, “assignments over.”

you nodded. “guess we can stop fake dating now,”

“yeah we could,”

you turned to look at him. “unless…”

he stopped walking and you did too.

jay pulled his hands from out his pocket, stepping infront of you. “unless we don’t stop.”

your heart skipped a beat.

“i meant what i said in-front of everyone,” he continued, voice low. “i meant every word last night too. and i don’t want this to be pretend anymore.”

you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“so,” he said pulling something from

behind his back—a single sheet of paper.

your heart sank. “what is that?”

he grinned. “your last fake dating report.”

you opened it and read:

final evaluation : y/n is officially the person i want to stop pretending with. if she’ll let me, i want to keep dating her—no project, no professor. just me and her. will you be my girlfriend?”

you looked up, blinking fast. “you wrote this?”

“yeah…just didn’t want professor park took a grade it.”

your laugh broke through the lump in your throat.

“so,” he asked stepping closer. “will you?”

you didn’t hesitate. “yes. yes i will be your girlfriend jay.”

jay smiled so big it felt like this whole semester had been worth it for this moment alone. he leaned in, and you met him halfway—this time, with no tension lingering, no blurry lines.

just a kiss that felt like the beginning.

and it was.

—

[rosemariiaa]

~Off the Rails (And into my Head) pt2~

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— w/c: 9.4k (i think)

𐙚— rosie’s note: hi there, after my little crashout we finally got it! not all they proofread but wtv, happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚— themes: fluff, language

By now, Azzi is convinced Paige is doing this on purpose.

Because no one—not even the most scatterbrained, forgetful, reckless person on the planet—could possibly get locked out of their hotel room four times in two weeks without some level of intention.

Right?

She doesn’t want to sound cocky, but at a certain point, she has to wonder—is this really just Paige being dumb, or is she actually doing this to see me?

The first time, Azzi gave her the benefit of the doubt. Mistakes happen. People forget their keycards. No big deal.

The second time, it was kind of funny. Paige had banged on Azzi’s door, looking like a very inconvenienced golden retriever, grumbling about how she definitely left her key on the nightstand.

The third time? Suspicious.

And now, standing in the hallway yet again, watching Paige attempt (and fail) to sweet-talk the front desk into giving her a new key without ID, Azzi is starting to think this is a pattern.

“You know they’re not gonna let you in unless you have ID,” she says, arms crossed.

Paige leans against the counter, turning on the charm. “Come on, man. We’ve done this before.”

The employee—same guy from last time, looking thoroughly unimpressed—gives her a blank stare. “Yeah. We have. Which is why you should know I can’t give you a key without ID.”

Paige sighs, spinning to face Azzi like she’s personally offended. “You hear this? They don’t trust me.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow. “Because you literally could be an intruder.”

Paige scoffs. “Do I look like an intruder?”

Azzi takes in her oversized hoodie, messy bun, and sock-covered feet—because, of course, Paige didn’t even put on shoes before locking herself out. Again.

“…You look like someone who doesn’t deserve to get let back into their room.”

Paige gasps, audibly. “Wow. And I thought we were friends.”

Azzi rolls her eyes but doesn’t bother hiding her smile. “I’ll go get my key.”

But before she can turn, Paige is already leaning dramatically over the counter, pleading her case.

Paige leans on the hotel counter, exasperated. “Kevin, I’ll give you my full name, room number—whatever you need.”

Kevin doesn’t blink. “Still need ID.”

Paige groans. “Kevin, you’re killing me.”

“Not my problem.”

Azzi snorts, clearly enjoying the show.

Paige sighs. “Come on, you know me. I’m practically on payroll at this point.”

Kevin just raises an eyebrow. “Or you could stop forgetting your key.”

Azzi covers her mouth to muffle a laugh.

Paige turns to her. “Alright, hypothetically, I’m a paying guest, right?”

Kevin deadpans, “You are a guest.”

“So, shouldn’t I get customer service?”

Azzi actually laughs now.

Kevin stays unimpressed. “Customer service doesn’t mean breaking hotel policy.”

Paige throws herself onto the counter like a child. “You are so dramatic, Kevin.”

Kevin shrugs.

Azzi, amused but knowing this could go on forever, steps in. “Kevin,” she says, sweet and polite. “I totally understand if you can’t, but I’d really appreciate it if you made an exception.”

Kevin hesitates.

Azzi tilts her head, smiling.

Kevin sighs, already caving. “Fine. Just this once.”

Paige snatches the key before Azzi can grab it. “Wow. So all it takes is her asking? Unreal.”

Kevin shrugs. “She asked nicely.”

Paige’s eye twitches. “I asked nicely!”

Azzi laughs. “No, you didn’t.”

Paige huffs, dragging Azzi away by the wrist.

Azzi stumbles after her, grinning. “Aw are you jealous right now?”

Paige scoffs. “No. I’m offended.”

“Same thing.”

Back at Paige’s room, she grumbles under her breath, keycard clenched in her fist like a personal insult.

Azzi shakes her head, still entertained. “I barely even asked.”

Paige scoffs. “Barely asked? Please. You could get someone’s social security number with that voice.”

Azzi rolls her eyes. “It’s called being polite.”

“I was polite.”

Azzi gives her a look.

Paige throws a hand up. “I said ‘come on, man,’ I used his name, I even recited my room number! I was the definition of polite.”

Azzi hums, unconvinced.

Paige glares. “Don’t ‘hmm’ me. You smiled, and Kevin folded in three seconds.”

Azzi smirks.

Paige scowls. “Wipe that look off your face.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re smug.”

Azzi grins. “Well, I did get you a free key.”

Paige narrows her eyes. “I don’t need your charity.”

Azzi teases, “Should I go back and tell Kevin I changed my mind?”

Paige shoves the key deeper into her pocket. “Don’t you dare.”

Azzi laughs as Paige jams the key into the slot harder than necessary.

Green light.

Paige throws the door open. “Finally.”

Inside, Paige flops onto the bed dramatically.

Azzi perches on the edge. “So… you wanna admit you did this on purpose, or should we pretend you’re just that forgetful?”

Paige groans into the comforter. “I wish I was smart enough to plan this.”

Azzi chuckles. “At least you admit it.”

Paige peeks at her through her fingers. “You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Paige groans again.

Azzi nudges her. “Look on the bright side. You’re inside now.”

Paige squints. “Wait… what’s the bright side?”

Azzi gives her a look. “That you’re not locked out?”

Paige blinks. “Huh. Never thought about it that way.”

Azzi shakes her head, laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”

Paige smirks. “You still like me.”

Azzi stills for half a second.

Paige doesn’t notice.

But Azzi does.

Because liking Paige is too easy.

She swallows the thought, rolling her eyes instead. “You wish.”

Paige grins. “I know.”

Azzi stands. “Come on, let’s make the sushi before you lock yourself out again.”

Paige groans. “Ugh, fine.”

Azzi heads toward the tiny kitchen space as Paige pulls herself up, watching her go.

Azzi washes her hands first. Paige doesn’t, and Azzi gives her a pointed look until she does.

It’s a small thing, but Paige kind of likes it—how Azzi just expects her to listen, to follow her lead. Like she already knows Paige will.

Azzi is focused as she reads the instructions, brows drawn in concentration, lower lip slightly tucked between her teeth. Paige should be paying attention, but instead, she leans against the counter, watching Azzi’s mouth move as she murmurs something about the rice.

She’s always been good at picking things up quickly—on the court, in school, in life—but standing here, watching Azzi prep sushi like it’s an art, Paige feels totally out of her element.

“This is the easy part,” Azzi says, rinsing the rice before setting it on the stove.

Paige hums, pretending to listen, but really, she’s still caught up in her own thoughts.

It’s almost funny.

Paige never stops talking—never has, never will—but right now, she doesn’t want to.

She just wants to watch.

The way Azzi moves, the way her hands glide effortlessly as she preps the cutting board, the way she hums lightly under her breath, completely at ease.

Paige has known her for—what, two weeks now? Three? She should not be this mesmerized.

And yet, here she is.

She hears Azzi sigh and snaps out of it.

“Are you even paying attention?” Azzi asks, exasperated but amused.

Paige grins, rubbing the back of her neck. “Define ‘paying attention’.”

Azzi shakes her head, grabbing the bamboo mat and placing it in front of Paige. “Here. You’re rolling first.”

Paige raises an eyebrow. “You trust me with this?”

Azzi considers for a moment. “Not really, but I think you should suffer a little before I show you how to really do it.”

Paige gasps dramatically. “Wow. So rude.”

Azzi grins. “I’m just being honest.”

Paige narrows her eyes, pointing at her. “You’re evil.”

“Maybe a little.”

Paige watches as Azzi spoons the rice onto the nori, smoothing it out with the back of the spoon like she’s done this a million times before.

Paige, on the other hand, is struggling.

Her rice sticks to her fingers, clumping in the most unforgivable way.

Azzi laughs. “Wet your hands first.”

Paige scowls, but does as she’s told. “You could’ve told me that before I embarrassed myself.”

Azzi grins, still not missing a beat. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Paige huffs and turns back to her roll, looking more like a disaster than a sushi chef. Her eyes keep darting to Azzi, who’s smoothly making her own roll with grace—just another moment of Paige feeling out of her depth.

But there’s something about the way Azzi moves, how at ease she is in this kitchen, that makes Paige want to keep looking.

Azzi picks up a cucumber, cutting it with swift precision. Paige notices the way the light catches her hair, the soft curls falling into place, how her eyes flick between the food and the knife, like she’s at peace.

It���s a little… distracting.

Paige feels a warmth in her chest she can’t quite place, a soft tug that she pretends not to notice.

“Okay, now roll it,” Azzi says, gesturing to Paige’s half-made roll.

Paige grabs the bamboo mat and hesitates. She tries to roll, but the thing unravels in her hands.

Azzi snickers, but it’s not mean—it’s light, like she’s amused at Paige’s stubbornness.

Paige glares. “Stop laughing and help.”

Azzi leans over, hands brushing against Paige’s as she fixes the mess Paige made. Paige freezes, feeling the heat in her face, her heartbeat quickening at the accidental touch.

But Azzi doesn’t notice.

Or maybe she does.

Because when she looks up, she lingers.

There’s something in the air then. It’s almost like time slows, the space between them filling with an almost magnetic tension. Paige feels her breath catch for a second, and she wonders if Azzi notices too.

And then, like nothing’s changed, Azzi smirks, tilting her head. “You make the easiest things so hard, piece of cake.”

Paige lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

She steps back, letting Azzi work, and leans against the counter again, arms crossed.

She should be annoyed.

She should be focused.

But all she can think about is how Azzi looks when she’s in her element—calm and beautiful.

Paige should be keeping track of the roll. She should be keeping track of the task at hand. But as Azzi continues to move, Paige can’t tear her eyes away from the other woman.

Azzi flicks a strand of hair from her face as she continues assembling, making the final adjustments to Paige’s half-made sushi with delicate, practiced hands.

Paige doesn’t want to admit it—but she is mesmerized by Azzi’s quiet focus.

By how patient she is.

It’s a strange thing for Paige—because she’s never been one to wait, especially when it comes to something she wants. But there’s something about Azzi’s calmness, the way she doesn’t rush anything, that makes Paige want to sit back and let it happen.

She watches, intently, as Azzi finishes rolling, securing it with a delicate press of the bamboo mat.

“And done,” Azzi says, placing the sushi in front of Paige with a soft smile.

Paige feels herself smile back, though there’s a quiet ache behind it.

She’s a mess. She’s never been this stuck on someone before. And maybe Azzi doesn’t even know it. Maybe Azzi doesn’t even feel it. But Paige knows. She can feel it in the air between them, the quiet moments where their eyes meet.

It lingers—thick and unspoken.

Paige is still standing close, her hands resting idly against the counter, but she’s not really thinking about the sushi anymore. Not even a little.

Azzi’s eyes stay on hers for a second longer than normal, and Paige is convinced she feels it too. The shift. The weight of something unspoken pressing between them.

Then, just as quickly, Azzi looks away.

Her gaze flickers to the food, then the living room, like she needs something else to focus on. “Should we go eat now?”

Paige blinks, snapping out of her thoughts—or the trance Azzi had her in, she thinks—and forces a nod.

“Yeah,” she says, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, let’s—uh—should we put on a movie or something?”

Azzi glances at her, then shrugs, casual. “Sure.”

They grab their plates and settle onto the couch, Azzi tucking her legs beneath her while Paige scrolls through the options on the screen.

It’s quiet for a minute, the only sound coming from the faint clicks of the remote. Paige hesitates for a second before casually tossing out, “You ever seen Frozen?”

She already knows the answer.

Azzi’s head snaps toward her, eyes lighting up in a way that makes Paige’s stomach flip.

“Duh,” Azzi says. “It’s my favorite.”

Paige smirks, feigning surprise. “No way. Really?”

Azzi narrows her eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t already know that.”

Paige laughs, clicking on the movie. “Yeah, okay, maybe I did.”

The opening scene starts playing, and Paige watches from the corner of her eye as Azzi settles in, eyes locked on the screen like she’s seeing it for the first time.

Paige leans back, casually draping her arm along the back of the couch—not around Azzi, but close enough. She waits a few seconds, then shifts just a little closer.

Azzi doesn’t move away.

Paige tells herself it’s fine. Normal. Two people sitting on a couch watching a movie.

Except it isn’t normal.

Not when Paige is hyperaware of every tiny movement Azzi makes. Not when she can hear Azzi murmuring along to some of the lines, her voice softer than the actual dialogue.

Not when her own pulse is way too loud in her ears.

It’s nothing.

But it’s also everything.

Paige’s fingers drum lightly against the cushion, her mind racing with thoughts she’s not sure she should be having. She focuses on the screen, but really, she’s more focused on her—on the way Azzi’s expression changes slightly during each scene, how her lips curve upward whenever Olaf appears, how she instinctively tugs the sleeves of her sweater over her fingers when she gets comfortable.

And okay, maybe Paige lets herself stare a little too long.

Because suddenly, Azzi turns to look at her, catching her mid-stare.

Busted.

Paige barely has time to react before Azzi’s eyes flicker to her arm—still resting along the back of the couch, inches from her shoulders. Paige swears there’s a flicker of amusement in her gaze before Azzi looks back at the screen, like she’s choosing not to acknowledge it.

Paige clears her throat, shifting slightly.

She tells herself to relax, to focus on the movie, but then Azzi moves again—this time leaning in just enough that their arms brush, soft and warm.

It’s a tiny thing.

But it sends Paige’s brain into full meltdown mode.

Because suddenly, all she can think about is how easy it would be to just—do something.

To close the space. To see if Azzi would lean into her the way Paige thinks she might.

The thought alone is dangerous.

And then, as if to make things even worse, Azzi hums along to Let It Go, her voice quiet, absentminded.

Paige groans internally, tilting her head back against the couch.

She’s so, so screwed.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

It’s not just that she met Azzi a few weeks ago. It’s that in those few weeks, she’s done things she wouldn’t normally do. She doesn’t get attached like this. She doesn’t make an effort like this.

And yet, here she was—driving Azzi to her first photoshoot before they even really knew each other, going to bookstores with her like it’s their thing, memorizing the way Azzi takes her coffee without realizing it.

Azzi had laughed when she first noticed.

“You remember my order?” she’d asked, watching as Paige handed her the cup.

Paige had shrugged, playing it off. “You act like you’re complicated. Black coffee with a splash of oat milk. Not exactly rocket science.”

Azzi had just hummed, smiling behind the rim of the cup before taking a sip. And Paige? Yeah, she’d definitely looked away too fast, heart knocking against her ribs.

It’s weird. Paige doesn’t do relationships like this. She’s had flings, sure—casual, easy, nothing that lingers. But this? Wanting to sit next to someone every time they’re in the same room? Wanting to hold them or just be in their space? She doesn’t know what to do with that.

Maybe that’s why Azzi’s here. Maybe because she doesn’t make Paige feel like she has to be anyone but herself. Maybe because she listens, really listens, even when Paige is rambling about why cereal should be considered a soup.

“Think about it,” Paige had argued one night, sitting cross-legged on Azzi’s couch. “It’s literally food floating in liquid. That’s soup.”

Azzi had just given her a look, unimpressed. “You know I’m never gonna agree with you on this, right?”

“That’s because you’re wrong,” Paige shot back, grinning.

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further. Instead, she let Paige keep talking, nodding like she was genuinely considering the ridiculous debate.

And when Paige got too carried away, Azzi had just pressed a finger to her lips.

“Shhh.”

It wasn’t mocking or impatient. It was soft. Playful. And Paige? Yeah, she short-circuited immediately, brain going blank as she just stared.

Azzi had smirked, dropping her hand, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

Paige had barely recovered from that, and now here they are—sitting on Paige’s couch again, watching some movie Paige is definitely not paying attention to.

They’re close, closer than usual, and every time Azzi shifts slightly, Paige feels it. The warmth of her, the brush of her knee against Paige’s.

Her hand twitches against her thigh. She clenches her fingers, trying to get her brain to chill. But then, before she even realizes it, the words slip out.

“You’re really pretty.”

Azzi blinks, turning her head toward her. Paige realizes immediately what she just said.

“Oh,” Paige blurts, eyes widening slightly. “Uh—”

Azzi doesn’t look away. Instead, a slow, knowing smirk spreads across her lips.

“You just now realizing that?”

Paige opens her mouth, then closes it. She runs a hand through her hair like that’ll somehow make her feel less like a total idiot.

“I mean, no—obviously,” she says, forcing a laugh. “I just—wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.”

Azzi hums, her expression unreadable, but Paige swears she sees something shift in her eyes.

“Guess I should say thanks, then.”

Paige lets out a weak chuckle. “I mean, you could…”

Azzi’s gaze lingers for another second before she turns back toward the screen, but the air is different now. Charged.

Paige’s fingers twitch before she lets herself reach out, resting her hand lightly against Azzi’s knee.

Azzi doesn’t move away.

Paige’s stomach flips.

She hesitates, throat suddenly dry, before speaking. Her voice is quieter than usual, softer. “Is this okay?”

Azzi glances down at Paige’s hand, then meets her eyes again. Her expression stays unreadable for a beat too long, but then she nods.

Paige swallows, nerves buzzing under her skin.

They’re closer now—so close that Paige can feel Azzi’s breath against her lips.

Azzi shifts slightly, just a fraction of an inch, and suddenly their noses brush. Paige’s pulse stutters.

She should say something. She should—

Azzi’s fingers brush over the back of her hand, light, barely there, but Paige feels it everywhere.

The moment stretches—

And then.

Knock knock knock.

Paige freezes.

She groans as the knocking gets louder, dragging a hand down her face.

Azzi leans back into the couch, barely glancing away from the blondes face as she smirks. “I think someone wants your attention.”

Paige groans again, dramatically letting her head fall against Azzi’s shoulder. “Or, hear me out—I just don’t answer.”

Azzi pats her knee, voice light. “You should probably get that.”

The knocking persists.

Azzi raises an eyebrow, and Paige sighs heavily before finally forcing herself up, trudging to the door. Instead of opening it all the way, she cracks it just enough for her head to peek out.

KK and Caroline stand on the other side, both looking unimpressed.

“Finally,” KK huffed. “Took you long enough, bro.”

Paige blinked, eyes still adjusting. “What are you guys doing here?”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Paige.”

KK gasped dramatically. “No way. Nooo way. You forgot, didn’t you?”

Paige frowned. “Forgot what?”

KK reeled back, clutching her chest. “She forgot we were coming. After we planned this like a month ago. Ridiculous. The memory of a goldfish.”

Caroline sighed, shaking her head. “I texted you this morning.”

Paige blinked. There was a vague recollection of a text she’d skimmed and ignored, but her brain had been… preoccupied. Not with basketball, not with film, not even with herself. She glanced back over her shoulder at the couch, where Azzi was still watching the movie, blissfully unaware of the scene unfolding at the door.

Caroline crosses her arms. “Are you gonna let us in, or…?”

Paige hesitates, then shifts awkwardly in the doorway. “Uhhh…”

KK narrows her eyes. “Why you actin’ weird?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Paige says way too fast.

Paige turned back, lowering her voice. “Look, I’m kinda busy right now.”

KK squinted at her. “Busy?”

Caroline tilted her head. “Busy doing what?”

Paige shifted in place. “Just… chilling. Watching a movie.”

KK crossed her arms. “You never turn down a hangout to ‘chill.’ Who’s in there?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Why does it matter?”

KK’s eyes lit up. “Ohhh. You’re hiding something.”

Caroline smirked. “Or someone.”

Paige groaned. “Oh my god.”

KK grinned. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

“No—” Paige stopped herself. “I mean, yes, but—” She exhaled sharply. “Look, just don’t be weird, okay?”

KK and Caroline exchanged glances before KK leaned in. “Who is she?”

Paige groans dramatically, dragging a hand down her face again. “Okay, first of all, y’all weren’t supposed to come today.”

Caroline raises an eyebrow. “We talked about this a month ago, Paige.”

Paige huffs. “Yeah, well, things have happened since then.”

KK tilts her head. “Like?”

Paige scratches the back of her head. “Like… like stuff.”

KK makes a face. “Damn. She’s lost it.”

Caroline sighs, already exhausted. “Paige, just let us in.”

Paige winces. “I will, I will, but like… just—be chill, okay? And you can’t be too loud.”

KK scoffs. “Since when do you care about being loud?”

Paige rolls her eyes. “It’s not for me, dumbass. 

Paige rolls her eyes. “It’s not for me, dumbass. It’s for—” She stops herself, then exhales sharply. “Look, just… just keep your voices down, alright? And also, don’t, like, bombardher with questions, okay? She gets overstimulated real fast.”

KK’s eyebrows shoot up. “Her?”

Caroline gives Paige a look.

Paige realizes her mistake a second too late.

KK grins. “Nooo way.”

Paige groans. “Shut up.”

KK whistles. “Ain’t no way. P Boogers got a girl?”

Paige hushes her immediately. “Shut up.”

KK grins. “Ohhh this is huge.”

Caroline sighs. “Paige, just let us in.”

“I will, but be cool. The coolest ever.”

KK smirks. “I am cool.”

“No, you’re annoying.”

KK ignores that. “So who’s in there?”

Paige shifts on her feet. “She wasn’t expecting company. And don’t interrogate her, okay? She gets overwhelmed sometimes.”

KK stares. Paige rambles.

“She’s indecisive as hell—almost cried picking between pancakes and waffles. And she likes quiet, so please—don’t be loud.”

KK and Caroline exchange looks.

Caroline smirks. “Paaaiiigeee.”

Paige frowns. “What?”

KK grins. “You like her.”

Paige stiffens. “Mind your business.”

KK’s grin widens. “P BOOGERS HAS A GIRLFRIEND. Ohhh brother. I thought you were asexual or something.”

Paige slaps a hand over her mouth. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

KK smirks. “Then why do you know her whole life story?”

Paige groans. “I hate you.”

Caroline nods. “She’s got a point.”

Before Paige can respond—

“Paige?”

They all freeze.

Azzi peeks through the door, blinking curiously. “Is everything okay?”

Paige steps in front of KK. “Yeah! Everything’s great.”

KK grins. Paige glares.

Azzi glances between them. “Who are you talking to?”

KK steps around Paige, eyes Azzi up and down. “Ohhh, so this is what had you acting weird.”

Paige sighs. “KK, please—”

Caroline, ever polite, extends a hand. “Hi, I’m Caroline. Nice to meet you.”

Azzi hesitates, then shakes it. “I’m Azzi.”

Caroline nods. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Azzi frowns. “You have?”

KK grins. “Yeah, but not from you—from lover girl over here.” She gestures at Paige, who turns bright red.

Azzi looks at Paige in surprise. Paige stammers, “I—I don’t—”

KK cackles. “Girl, you just gave us her whole biography.”

Paige groans, squeezing her eyes shut. “Fuck me.”

Azzi, amused, watches Paige internally combust.

Paige sighs, stepping aside. “I guess y’all can come in.”

KK skips inside. “Aw, P Boogers, you’re so sweet.”

Paige groans, dropping her head into her hands.

They settle in. KK immediately snoops. “Okay, P, I see you! But damn, you still got them big-ass feet.”

Paige glares. “Put my shoe down before I make you eat it.”

Caroline eyes Frozen playing on the TV. “Frozen?” She looks at Azzi. “Your pick?”

Azzi nods. “Yeah, it’s my favorite.”

KK smirks. “Interesting. ‘Cause last I checked, P Boogers doesn’t sit through Disney movies for just anybody.”

Paige shoots her a look. “Shut up, KK.”

Azzi, still amused, leans in. “So… lover girl?”

Paige stiffens. “Azzi.”

Azzi smiles. “I was wondering why you hesitated letting them in. Now it makes sense.”

Paige groans. “KK exaggerates everything.”

Azzi hums. “So you didn’t recite my biography five seconds ago?”

Paige presses her lips together.

Azzi raises an eyebrow.

Paige sighs. “I maybe said a few things.”

Azzi grins. “A few?”

Paige groans. “Kill me now.”

Before Azzi can respond, KK plops onto the couch—right in Paige’s spot.

Paige blinks. “Hey—”

KK stretches. “Sooo, Azzi, how do you know P?”

Azzi barely has time to answer before Paige taps her shoulder.

“Get up.”

KK feigns innocence. “Uh… why?”

Paige gestures. “That’s my seat.”

KK leans back. “Nah, I’m comfy. You can sit by Caroline.”

Paige narrows her eyes. “Move.”

“Nope.”

Paige turns to Azzi. “Tell her to move.”

Azzi opens her mouth, but KK cuts in. “Damn, P, no patience. Lemme have a turn with Azzi”

Paige doesn’t respond—just kicks KK’s shin.

KK yelps. “Ow! You violent-ass—”

Paige immediately drops onto the couch, reclaiming her spot.

KK glares. “Oh, we’re playing dirty now?”

Paige smirks, arm draped over the back of the couch. “I told you to move.”

Azzi watches, amused. “Really?”

Paige shrugs. “What? I told her to move.”

Azzi shakes her head with a soft laugh. KK groans dramatically. “Unbelievable. She’s so whipped.”

Caroline sighs. “You two are actual children.”

KK, still rubbing her leg, huffed. “And Paige is a menace.”

Paige smirked, draping an arm over the back of the couch behind Azzi. “Damn right.”

Azzi just shook her head, biting back a smile. Paige, despite the chaos, felt perfectly content right where she was.

As they settled in, KK—still rubbing her leg from Paige’s kick—got straight to the point.

“So, Azzi,” she leaned forward, eyes glinting. “How do you know P over here?”

Azzi glanced at Paige before answering, “We met on the train.”

Caroline raised a brow. “The train?”

“Yeah,” Paige cut in. “We just… started talking.”

KK squinted. “You—just started talking? Like a normal person?”

Paige huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azzi, amused, added, “She claimed i was stalking and she almost spoiled my book.”

“The Housemaid,” Azzi said when KK asked which one.

KK looked blank, but Caroline nodded. “That one’s pretty good.”

Azzi smiled. “Yeah, it was—”

“Was,” Paige corrected. “Until I almost ruined it.”

Azzi hummed. “I forgave you, didn’t I?”

Paige grinned. “After ten minutes of glaring at me.”

KK waved a hand. “So, you met on a train, bonded over a book, and now P is acting all weird and protective?”

“I am not—” Paige started, but KK was already squinting at her like she’d solved a puzzle.

Azzi just shrugged. “I guess?”

KK pointed at Paige. “You left us in the cold forever before letting us in. Since when do you hesitate opening the door for us?”

Paige opened her mouth, then closed it.

Caroline smirked. “She’s got a point.”

Paige groaned. “Can we move on?”

KK leaned back, smug. “Fine. But I’m circling back to this.”

Caroline turned to Azzi. “So, what do you do?”

“I’m a model,” Azzi said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

KK’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, shit. Runway?”

“A little of everything—runway, print, campaigns, commercials. It depends.”

“Sounds intense,” Caroline said.

“It is,” Azzi admitted. “Schedules are exhausting, and there’s pressure to look perfect. Body, skin, hair—everything. Plus the traveling. I barely stay in one place.”

“Sounds like hell,” KK said bluntly.

Azzi laughed. “It has its moments.”

Paige, beside her, hadn’t stopped watching. Not just listening—studying. The way Azzi’s lips moved, the subtle gestures of her hands. Close enough to notice a stray piece of cotton on Azzi’s sweater, Paige reached out without thinking, plucking it off.

Azzi paused mid-sentence, glancing at Paige as she flicked it away like it offended her. Paige, unfazed, just nodded.

Caroline, watching, almost gagged. “Jesus Christ.”

Paige blinked. “Hm?”

“Nothing,” Caroline muttered.

KK, meanwhile, was grinning. “Nah, I see it now. P, you been starin’ at her like she hung the damn moon.”

Paige groaned. “Can y’all stop?”

Azzi, unbothered, side-eyed her. “She always does that when I’m talking.”

Paige deadpanned. “You want me to stop?”

Azzi smirked. ��Didn’t say that.”

Caroline rubbed her temples. “This is unbearable.”

KK cackled. “I love this.”

Paige ignored them completely, turning back to Azzi. “So, what’s been your favorite shoot so far?”

Azzi tilted her head, considering. “Probably my campaign for Dior. It was shot in Italy, and I got to wear some of the most beautiful couture pieces. It felt unreal.”

Paige nodded, still watching her like she was imagining it all in real time. “That’s sick. You gotta show me the pictures later.”

Azzi’s lips curled slightly. “I will.”

Caroline groaned. “Jesus, Paige, can you breathe?”

Paige shot her a glare. “I am breathing.”

KK leaned in, whispering loudly, “Barely.”

Caroline, ever the level-headed one, leaned back. “Since we’re all here, should we play a game or something?”

KK immediately perked up. “Ooooh, drinking game?”

Azzi blinked, looking a little hesitant. Paige noticed the way her fingers twitched slightly against her lap.

“Azzi doesn’t drink,” Paige said quickly. “So we’re not gonna pressure her into anything.”

Azzi gave her a small, appreciative look.

Caroline nodded. “Fair enough. We can do something else—like a truth-or-dare type thing. Or Azzi could just get a pass on drinking and win a date or something instead.”

KK wiggled her eyebrows. “Ooooh, now that’s an interesting twist.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow at Paige. “You’re supposed to come to my fitting tomorrow. You sure you wanna drink tonight?”

Paige blinked. “Oh… right.”

KK groaned. “Oh, come on, P. One night won’t kill you.”

Paige hesitated, then shook her head. “Nah, I’ll just sit this one out.”

KK gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Who are you?”

Caroline laughed. “I mean, I think it’s sweet.”

KK shot her a look. “Okay, mom.”

Azzi, amused, just leaned in closer to Paige and whispered, “You’re really not gonna drink?”

Paige shrugged. “Gotta be sober enough to see you tomorrow, right?”

Azzi smiled. “Good answer.”

Paige grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Now, let’s play.”

As the game began, the questions were lighthearted, mostly directed at Azzi since she was new to the group. KK and Caroline took turns grilling her on the basics—where she was from, her job, and little details to get a sense of her.

Azzi handled it well, gradually opening up with a charm that made them warm up to her quickly. Paige, sitting beside her, watched with amusement, occasionally chiming in when Azzi mentioned something she already knew.

“You don’t have a New York accent,” KK noted.

Azzi laughed. “I’m from Virginia.”

“What brought you here?” Caroline asked.

Azzi hesitated, fingers twitching briefly. “Work… and a breakup.”

KK’s interest piqued. “Oh?”

Azzi smirked. “That’s all I’m saying.”

Caroline nodded. “Smart.”

“What’s your favorite thing about modeling?” Caroline asked.

“Travel,” Azzi said. “And the clothes—I get to wear things I’d never pick for myself, like the Italy shoot, It was on a rooftop overlooking the water—it felt unreal.”

“And least favorite?”

Azzi chuckled. “Shooting in freezing weather for hours in a thin dress.”

Paige frowned. “That’s messed up. No heated blankets or something?”

Azzi turned to her, amused. “They did, but only between shots. It wasn’t that bad.”

Paige still looked unimpressed but let it go.

The game continued, shifting between personal and lighthearted topics.

“So, how’d you and Paige start actually hanging out?” Caroline asked.

Azzi and Paige exchanged a glance, clearly recalling the same memory.

Azzi smirked. “I accidentally hit her in the forehead while trying to leave my room.”

KK’s eyes widened. “What?”

Paige groaned. “It was a personal attack.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “It was an accident. She claimed I “owed” her so to make it up to her, we got food together.”

KK squinted at them. “Huh.”

Caroline raised a brow. “And the rest is history?”

Azzi shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Then the questions took a turn.

“Azzi, biggest turn-on?” Caroline asked.

“Confidence.”

“And turn-off?”

“Arrogance.”

Caroline side-eyed Paige. “Oof, close call, P.”

Paige pointed at her. “I will actually fight you.”

Azzi, amused, turned to Paige. “You think you’re arrogant?”

Paige hesitated. “…No?”

KK and Caroline burst into laughter.

Then, KK smirked. “Paige, what’s your type?”

Paige stiffened. “Why does that matter?”

“Because we’re nosy.”

Azzi glanced at her, waiting.

Paige cleared her throat. “Uh… driven people?”

Caroline smirked. “She means brunettes .”

Paige groaned as KK nearly fell over laughing. Azzi arched a brow, amused.

KK’s next question was worse. “Azzi, if you had to go on a date with someone in this room, who would it be?”

Paige tensed, forcing herself to stay neutral.

Azzi looked around casually, then smiled. “KK. She seems like she’d make it fun.”

KK beamed. “Knew I had charm.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t expected that. The flash of something unreadable in Azzi’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed, but she said nothing.

Paige forced a smile. “Of course. You’d want someone who keeps things interesting.”

She took a sip of her drink, chest tightening, as Azzi leaned back, studying the room with her usual quiet confidence.

—

The room was slowly quieting down as Caroline and KK stood up, stretching and grabbing their jackets. The game had wound down, the laughter still hanging in the air as they started to say their goodbyes.

“I’ll see you girls in the tomorrow, alright?” Caroline grinned, her eyes landing on Azzi. “This was fun. You’re a lot cooler than I expected.”

Azzi laughed, her smile warm. “Thanks, Caroline. You’re not so bad yourself.”

KK smirked, wrapping Azzi in a big, affectionate hug. “You’re my new best friend,” she said dramatically, squeezing her tight. “Get ready for all the shit I’m gonna drag you into.”

Azzi smiled against her shoulder, feeling the comfort of KK’s warm embrace. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Alright, alright, lets go KK,” Caroline teased, pulling KK away and waving as they headed for the door.

Paige and Azzi stood by the bed, the weight of the night settling between them. Azzi glanced back before leaving. “Goodnight, you two. Sleep well,” she said with a soft smile.

“Night,” Paige mumbled, quieter than usual.

When the door clicked shut, Paige immediately started cleaning. Azzi joined her without a word, their movements in sync, comfortable in the quiet. It felt natural—like they’d been doing this for years.

As Azzi wiped down the counter, she realized how much she liked this—the quiet, the ease of being in Paige’s space. It felt like home in a way she hadn’t expected.

Once everything was put away, Azzi grabbed her purse, ready to leave. But Paige lingered by the bed, watching her with an unreadable expression.

Azzi noticed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, setting her purse down again.

Paige hesitated, then exhaled. “You can’t stay a little longer?”

Azzi blinked, surprised. Paige’s vulnerability caught her off guard.

“It’s late, and we both need sleep,” Azzi reasoned gently. “The fitting’s at nine. And you know how grumpy you get in the morning.”

Paige groaned. “Then stay here…We can grab your stuff in the morning.”

Azzi hesitated, warmth creeping up her neck at the thought. But she nodded. “Fine. But I need pajamas.”

Paige tossed her an oversized T-shirt and shorts. “Here,” she said, heart racing. “These should fit.”

Azzi changed and slipped into bed beside Paige. Just as they settled in, Azzi poked her head out from under the covers. “I can only sleep on the right side.”

Paige frowned. “You… want me to move?”

Instead of waiting, Azzi crawled over Paige—right across her body. Paige’s breath hitched, her face burning as Azzi’s (plump) ass rose in the air. Turning her face the other way quickly as Azzi settled beside her.

“You okay?” Azzi asked.

Paige cleared her throat. “Yeah. Just… hot.”

Azzi chuckled. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Goodnight,” Paige murmured, though her mind raced with thoughts she had no business thinking.

—

Paige woke first, the warmth of a body pressed against hers making her heart stutter. Azzi was draped over her, breath soft against her neck, leg hooked over her own. Paige wasn’t used to waking up like this.

She turned slightly, taking in Azzi’s peaceful expression, messy hair, lips slightly parted. It made her forget, just for a second, how they ended up tangled together.

Azzi stirred, eyes fluttering open. Realizing their position, she pulled back abruptly. “Oh! Sorry sorry,” she whispered, cheeks flushing.

Paige smirked. “It’s okay. How’d you sleep?”

Azzi rubbed her eyes. “Your bed is way more comfortable than mine.”

Paige chuckled. “Then we should have more sleepovers.”

Azzi laughed, grabbing her bag. “We’ll see. Meet me in my room when you’re ready.”

Paige nods, the word slipping out before she can even process it. “Yes, ma’am.” Her heart skips a beat at how easy it is to fall into a rhythm with Azzi.

Azzi flashes her a quick, teasing wink as she slips on her shoes and walks out the door. Paige watches her go, a heavy sigh leaving her lips as she immediately misses the warmth of Azzi’s touch.

But there’s no time for that now. She groans, pushing herself out of bed, not used to waking up at this hour. 7:30. It’s early. Way too early. But, then again, here she is—getting up at this ungodly hour for a fitting with Azzi Fudd. The things you do for love. Well, not love… but, something like it.

She drags herself to the bathroom, hoping a warm shower will wake her up fully. The steam clears her head a bit, and she quickly dresses in the Fenty set Azzi got her. Another perk of having such a famous friend. She spritzes on her Valentino perfume, the same one Azzi always compliments her on. It’s become a signature scent now, one she associates with the brunette. Every time she catches a whiff of it, she thinks of Azzi.

With everything ready, she heads out of her hotel room. Her key’s on the dresser, still resting where she left it. But, once again, she decides not to grab it. She’s gotten away with leaving it before, and frankly, she likes it that way. It means she gets to spend more time with Azzi. Maintenance might get mad, but—oh well. She’ll deal with the consequences later.

Paige walks down the hall to Azzi’s room, knocking gently on the door. Azzi opens it almost immediately, looking effortlessly chic in her matching Fenty set. Paige’s heart skips a beat, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You ready to go?” Paige asks, leaning against the doorframe, trying not to let the excitement bubble up too much.

Azzi nods, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They walk out of the building, heading to Paige’s car. It’s a comfortable silence between them, the only sound the soft hum of the car as Paige pulls out. She glances over at Azzi, wondering if she should ask if she wants to stop for anything before they get to the fitting.

“Want to grab anything first?”

Azzi shook her head. “They’ll have breakfast there.”

As they pull up to the building, Azzi’s attention is drawn to something outside the window. She taps Paige’s arm a little too hard, making Paige jump.

“What? What?!” Paige says, looking over at her.

Azzi points, eyes wide with concern. “Look at that poor thing,” she says, voice full of pity.

Paige follows her gaze, spotting a small brown wiener dog sitting by the side of the building. Azzi’s face softens, and her heart melts at the sight of the little dog, alone on the sidewalk.

“No,” Paige says, shaking her head firmly, a small grin forming on her lips. “Not happening.”

Azzi pouts, her lower lip jutting out as she leans closer to Paige, her voice soft and pleading. “Please, Paige. Look at it. It’s so lonely.”

Paige rolls her eyes, trying to stay firm. “Azzi, this is the third time. You can’t save every dog.”

But Azzi’s eyes are impossibly wide, her pout deepening. She leans in even closer, nearly whispering in Paige’s ear. “Every dog deserves a home, Paige. Please… just let me take this one. It’s so cute, and it’s so alone.”

Paige groaned, already knowing she was going to cave. “Fine. But you owe me.”

Azzi’s face lights up, her joy so infectious that Paige can’t help but smile, too. Without hesitation, Azzi runs toward the little dog, crouching down to speak softly. “It’s okay, little one. You’re coming home with me.”

The dog wags its tail furiously, rubbing against Azzi’s hand. Paige watches, arms crossed, chuckling to herself. Azzi scoops the dog up like it’s the most precious thing in the world and turns to Paige. “Come on,” she grins. “Let’s go.”

With the dog in Azzi’s arms, they head into the building, the door swinging open behind them. They make their way to Azzi’s fitting station, Paige now with the dog in her lap as they sit off to the side, quietly eating fruit. Azzi’s designer arrives shortly, and the fitting begins.

As Azzi tries on different outfits, Paige’s attention drifts, unable to stop staring. She knows she’s supposed to be watching the fitting, but all she can think about is how incredibly beautiful Azzi looks in everything. She watches the way Azzi moves, how the clothes seem to fit her just right, the way her hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders. Paige can’t stop herself, even though she knows she should.

She absently scratches the dog’s ears, trying to keep her composure, but she’s failing miserably.

“Ugh,” Paige mutters to the dog, more to herself than anything. “She just… makes me so nervous. And I don’t get nervous a lot, you know?”

The dog tilts its head up at her, as if listening, but Paige doesn’t wait for a response. She’s too wrapped up in Azzi’s effortless beauty, her mind racing with thoughts she can’t even begin to process. “I mean, I know we just met, but you can tell me you don’t see the connection, right? I’m not crazy for thinking there’s something there?”

“Right, you’re a dog,” she continues, her voice softer now, almost whispering. “We just got you off the side of the street. What is wrong with me?”

She sighs deeply, the kind of sigh that feels like it could sink her into the floor. She doesn’t know what’s happening, but everything about Azzi just does it for her. Her legs, her smile, the way she carries herself—it’s all too much, and yet Paige can’t stop staring.

She can feel the heat rising in her chest, the way her body reacts just from being near Azzi—just from seeing her in these clothes. Paige is almost drooling, but she quickly pulls herself together, though she’s definitely not fooling anyone, especially not herself.

By the time the shoot wraps up, Paige feels something heavy in her chest. She watches Azzi cradle the dog, warmth in her eyes, and wishes—just for a second—that look was meant for her.

As they head to the exit, Paige checks her phone and groans. “Flat tire.”

Azzi glances over, unfazed. “Guess we’re taking the train, then.”

Paige sighs, but Azzi just smiles. “Maybe it’s fate.”

Azzi leads the way, the dog still curled up in her arms, as they make their way toward the subway station. The quiet between them settles comfortably, the low rumble of the train and the soft shuffle of the dog’s paws the only sounds breaking the silence. But for Paige, the air is thick with something she can’t ignore. Something she doesn’t want to ignore.

The train pulls up, and they step inside, the vibrations sending a slight tremor through Paige’s chest. Her mind begins to race, replaying all the moments they’ve shared—those casual, easy conversations, the effortless way Azzi could make her laugh. The way she smiled at her today, the way she treated the dog with so much care, so much love, like she genuinely cared about everything, everyone, in her orbit. And oh, god, the way she laughed.

Paige can feel it now, her heart racing, her palms clammy as she looks at Azzi, trying to steady her thoughts. This is happening, she thinks. She can’t pretend anymore. She’s felt this pull since that first encounter, when Azzi had sat across from her on the subway, looking at her like she’d known her for years.

She opens her mouth to speak, but they come out all wrong. “Azzi…” she starts, and her voice feels smaller than usual, maybe because this feels like one of the most vulnerable things she’s ever done. “Okay I— I know this might sound a little insane, but I can’t stop thinking about it. You.”

Azzi looks at her, brows lifting. “What do you mean?”

Paige hesitates but pushes through. “I like you. Like a lot. Since the moment you sat across from me on the train and I can’t keep pretending I don’t.” She meets Azzi’s eyes, feeling the weight of her own confession. “I just need to know if you feel the same, so I don’t end up looking like a lunatic Az.”

Azzi’s gaze softens. “Paige…” A small smile tugs at her lips. “I like you too.”

Paige blinks. “Wait. What?”

Azzi laughs. “I’ve liked you since… well we met, probably more since you made that weird face when I mentioned going out with KK.” She nudges Paige playfully. “I just didn’t know if it was too soon.”

Paige feels her heart skip a beat, and a rush of relief floods her chest. “So… you’d want to go out with me? For real?”

Azzi nods, that smile growing wider, reaching her eyes. “Of course, yeah.”

Paige feels like she’s floating, her heart doing something that feels like a cartwheel. She can’t help it—without thinking, she leans in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s like the world has fallen away, just the two of them in that moment, exploring this thing that’s been quietly building between them. When they pull away, they both just… smile.

Paige can’t stop the smile spreading across her face. “Also I forgot my hotel key again…”

Azzi rolls her eyes, grinning. “Paige. Seriously?”