#i will finish my fic series though i just don't know when

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Seven

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 18k (mad)

Chapter Warnings: ok so me and @h1sch13r were having a conversation about the girl with the list (iykyk and if you don't, don't go looking) and I had to put it in here because it was too funny of an opportunity not to (s/o to Rory for the inspo and the trauma where she told me a woman's brain shrinks in pregnancy who knew!!!) so there's some pretty gross things in here about pregnancy and babies lmao, also poppy has well and truly lost the plot tbh but this is why we love her she is nothing if not delusional, mentions of judgemental parents and weak family relationships, talk of pregnancy, babies and thoughts/feelings around the two topics, talk of childbirth kind of but not in depth, sort of angsty but not like ANGSTY!!!!! do you know what I mean? very much moreso on the fluffy side though. a bit of hurt/comfort. poppy is an anxious mess, nico is... nico (I say with love and affection this time I promise)

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Six)

A/N: I feel like the speed in which I wrote this is a testament to how much I love writing these two and this story and I LOVE YOU GUYS AND THE WAY YOU LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH IT MELTS MY WEE HEART I just wanna spend my days reading all the nice things you send me I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! 💖 the ending is a little bit rushed but I can't keep going back and forth on it or I'll lose my mind

Poppy

Despite having the invitation stuck to her fridge for 6 weeks, and knowing about the event even further in advance, Poppy’s cousin, Elsie’s, baby shower could not have come at a more ridiculous time for her. 

She knows she can’t expect everyone else’s world to stop turning just because her own life is spiralling way out of control, but a baby shower is just downright cruel.

Especially when she hasn’t even taken a test yet.

It's been 3 days since she had spoken to Katja Hischier at the signing event. 

She had gone straight to the pharmacy once she had finished work, had picked up every single brand of pregnancy test she could find and had swallowed down the embarrassment when the girl behind the counter had looked at her like she was insane.

And she had spent that whole evening sat staring at the bag in which she had stashed them, not even daring to get one out.

The next day, she had gone to work, and had gone straight back to pretending like nothing else was going on in her life - only this time, she had a little trashcan beneath her desk dedicated to the nausea that rippled through her all day like some sort of sick constant reminder of her situation. It was a gross counter measure, but it stopped her having to take constant trips to the bathroom and rousing any sort of suspicion. 

If anyone else were to come to the same conclusion Nico’s mom had, and confront her about it, she would have burst into tears on the spot.

The day after that was Saturday, and of all the things she could have done to distract herself from what was going on, she had gone shopping for a gift for her cousin in Manhattan. With her mother.

She had spent the day looking at cribs, and changing tables, little tiny wardrobes to keep little tiny clothes, and God all the little tiny clothes were so small it made her tense up.

On the upside, it was like her body knew better than to get sick in front of her mother - she’d never hear the end of it.

She was getting enough of a backhanded lecture about her cousin’s pregnancy, never mind the potential of her own.

“I can’t believe she’s having another baby out of wedlock,” Priscilla had scoffed as she and Poppy were first checking through the gift registry in Macy’s, “Your father and your Uncle Peter think she’s an absolute disgrace.”

“They’ve been together like 7 years, Mom, that’s stronger than a few marriages I know of. She’ll be fine.”

“It isn’t about how long they’ve been together, Poppy,” her mom swats at her hand as she scrolls a little too fast down the list, “It’s about securing the best future for those children. The man is a glorified construction worker, she could have chosen better in life.”

Elsie’s partner Jared is an architect, but she couldn’t find any use in arguing that point with her mother in the middle of a department store. 

If she found out Poppy could maybe be carrying the baby of a hockey player, who she would never marry and wasn’t even in a relationship with, she would have a cardiac episode right in the middle of the shop floor.

“Is it not about her being happy?” She had asked, and the look her mother threw her way was all the answer she needed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She can’t possibly be happy in that little bungalow with no college education and no ring on her finger. Believe me.”

Elsie’s bungalow had been designed by Jared when she was pregnant with their first son. They owned everything outright from the 4 acres of land it sat on to the final tile Jared had laid in the roof, himself. The house is a labour of love, and every time Poppy visits, Elsie has a smile on her face like she has the whole world at her fingertips.

It has always been something she has envied. 

And she thinks it’s envy that creeps up on her in the third day, when she and Nia arrive at the bungalow with their gift bags in tow, and Elsie and Jared answer the door like the picture of once in a lifetime love.

She’s absolutely glowing, mostly through her third trimester now, her bump round and low, her cheeks puffy and her eyes gleaming with unadulterated joy. And Jared looks at her like she’s the only woman in the world.

Yeah, it’s definitely envy.

And maybe a touch of pride at her cousin for sticking it to their family.

“I can’t believe Elsie’s onto her second kid and me and you are glorified spinsters,” Nia comments as she picks up a handful of finger sandwiches.

“I don’t think you can be a spinster at 25, Ni, that’s a little overdramatic.” Poppy responds, swallowing down the arising queasiness at just the sight of devilled eggs on the table set up for food. Elsie is pregnant, for God’s sake, she thinks, she shouldn’t want to be around any kind of eggs.

“Maybe we should just suck it up and marry each other, we’d make cute babies.”

“Again, not how that works.”

“Well obviously you’d carry it. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m ever pushing a little cantaloupe sized head out of my lady parts, I hurt just thinking about it.”

Poppy wants to say tell me about it. It’s all she’s been thinking about herself the last few days, and the last thing she needs as she’s trying to avoid thinking about it is to be surrounded by constant reminders.

Like the little tiny plastic baby clinging to the straw in her lemonade that it takes everything in her to resist launching across the room, or the giant stack of diapers shaped into a four tier cake that sits on the end of the table that she wants to tear apart.

She usually loves babies. 

She loves fawning over little boopy noses and squealing at all the cute slogans on their little onesies - like I’m berry cute with a little embroidered strawberry beside it or a little printed dinosaur that says, I’m a-roar-able!

She loves when they get the hiccups, and their wide eyes go round like they don’t know what the hell is happening to their bodies. 

She loves when they have those little self-satisfied smiles in their sleep, and everyone argues over whether it’s gas or not.

But as much as she loves all those things usually, right now they are terrifying her.

Every single thing she tries to lay her eyes on to take her mind off of everything is baby themed. Pink floating balloons with teddy bears weighing them down, a message board with a bunch of baby grow shaped cards pinned to it, a bowl of lollipops that are shaped like pacifiers. 

She can’t escape it no matter where she goes or who she speaks to, and so all she can do is hover round Nia like a wordless zombie and wait until there’s a group event where hopefully some normal conversation gets flowing.

Only, expecting any kind of normal conversation at a baby shower is delusional at best.

“Oh my god, a snot sucker! I was just telling Jared how much we need one of these!” Elsie exclaims as she pulls the little box out of a gift bag covered in little rainbows.

“A what-now?” Nia’s face is the picture of disgust, leaning into the circle to get a better look at the present Elsie had just unwrapped.

“Babies can’t clear their own noses when they get congested,” Elsie’s friend, Gina, who had gifted the device, pipes up from across the room, “So you put the little tube up there and suck on the other end. The snot gets stuck in the middle and you just wash it out. It saves you having to suck it out with your own mouth.”

“Oh God, I’m gonna be sick,” Poppy chokes out, bringing her hand to her mouth in what the rest of the group assume is mock disgust, but she can literally feel her stomach turning.

“Me too,” Nia mimics her, “Does the girl with the list know about this? That you have to suck the snot out of your baby’s nose?! Who would even think of doing that in the first place?!”

Poppy jabs her elbow into her side, wincing at the thought and trying to fight the urge to vomit. The last thing she needs is to be reminded of the girl with the damn list. The last time that had come across her feed, she’d added on there that being pregnant can cause your sweat to turn blue. What if she can never wear white again?

“It’s one of those wonderful motherly instincts, you don’t even think about it being gross when it comes to relieving your baby, like sniffing their diapers or fishing their crap out of the bathtub!”

Poppy pushes herself up from her place on the couch, and makes a dash for the nearest bathroom, hearing Nia excuse her with, “She probably shouldn’t have come, she’s been sick all week. Tell me more about the bathtub thing though, is that like a regular occurrence? You just live in constant fear like that?” 

When she’s safely inside, she presses her back to the other side of the door, her shaking body calming as she takes deep breaths and fights past the nausea until she no longer feels the need to throw up.

She tries to think of other things. Clean things. No bodily fluids involved. Fresh laundry and Coconut Breeze candles. 

It takes a good couple minutes before she feels okay again.

When she finally opens her clenched eyes, she realises the bathroom she had stumbled into is not in fact the guest bathroom, but the one Elsie and Jared had assigned specifically to their son - and Poppy’s god-son - Jensen, who was given his mother’s maiden name, but Poppy has always told him he was named after her.

There is sailboat wallpaper, rubber ducks with different costumes lining the bathtub, a little plastic step up to the sink with Paw Patrol characters on the side, and a cabinet covered in stickers.

God bless her cousin for not raising a beige baby, she thinks.

When she gets a closer look, she realises the stickers are little cartoon versions of Harry Potter characters, and she can’t help the little smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth as she smooths her fingers over one of them, making sure the edges stick back down and don’t start to peel. 

Nico would give his kids Harry Potter stickers. He’d let them leave them all over the house, would probably let them stick them to his practice gear and his old sticks. He’d play rubber duckies in the bathtub, give each one a little unique voice and would ingrain each character to his memory for every bath time, and blow bubbles at them until they erupted into little dimpled giggles. He’d stand in front of the sink and brush his teeth beside them, singing a 2 minute song he made up in his head so they’d learn to brush them for longer.

It would all come so easy to him.

Oh God.

She should not be thinking about this. Not in her godson’s bathroom, at least, in the middle of her cousin’s baby shower.

There’s a door off to the side, hooks on the back with a couple hooded bath towels - one that looks like a frog and another that looks like a dinosaur - and she finds herself reaching for the handle before she can think too much of it, pushing the door until it opens into Jensen’s room.

He’s sitting on the floor beside his bed, surrounded by little plastic pieces and trying to make sense of the booklet in his lap, and when he hears the door creak open, he looks up in surprise.

“Hey, Auntie Poppy.”

He would usually shoot up when he sees her - would run and jump into her arms and squeeze until he gets bored, would ask her, is that enough? And she would always tell him no so that he would squeeze her again.

It’s their thing.

But he stays sat, this time, his attention diverting immediately back to the Lego bricks in front of him. 

“Hey, bud, you okay in here? What are you doing on your own?”

“I’m just playing.”

Jensen never plays on his own. He usually has the attention span of a gnat, and jumps between every activity he can think of, all while clutching the nearest adult’s hand and dragging them along for the ride.

Poppy lowers herself onto her knees beside him, careful not to push down into any of the bricks, and leans onto the palm of her hand. “You mind if I play, too?”

“Sure! I’m building Ron’s car from Harry Potter!” 

He shows her the box, that reads Flying Ford Anglia, and she gives a reminiscent smile as she says, “I’ve never seen it.”

“It’s my favourite! Mommy says if I can do this one she’ll get me the train for my birthday.” She doesn’t even let her mind go where it wants. She’s putting a temporary ban on thinking about him until she’s in the safety of her own home, where her mind can’t wander at the sight of tiny pairs of sneakers sat beside matching big ones and baby grows that are no bigger than her forearm. “I’m gonna be 6.”

She knows that. She remembers the Thanksgiving dinner 6 years ago where his mom had announced to their family that she was foregoing college because she was pregnant at 18. She had never been prouder of anyone in her life, if not for taking centre stage at Jensen Thanksgiving, then for the way she had so casually gone back to eating Turkey legs like it was no big deal while both of their parents argued amongst themselves.

“That’s awesome, how can I help?”

“Could you read it to me? I can read, but I can’t read and put it together at the same time. I’m not an octopus.”

Poppy chuckles, taking the little instruction booklet from him and biting her tongue to save from telling him he wouldn’t need more hands to do both things, he’d just have to put the booklet down.

She observes him mostly as he puts the figure together, blue bricks stacking up until they eventually resemble the car in the picture, and he attaches them with a tiny tongue poking out the side of his mouth that reminds her of his mom. She does the same thing when she’s baking, following instructions left in a book by their grandmother and trying to measure things out to the gram. 

He isn’t as chatty as he usually is, and she takes a stab in the dark as to what might be the matter. 

“Hey, how cool, you’re gonna get to teach your baby sister all about Harry Potter, too!”

Jensen shrugs, a pensive frown on his face as he stays focused on the Lego. “Mommy says she won’t be able to watch movies with me.”

“Not for a little while. Babies just eat, sleep and poop for the first couple of months, I think,”

“Gross,” he turns his nose up, but his eyes flicker up to Poppy’s in amusement. She may not be a mother, but she knows the surefire way to a kid’s good graces - mentioning poop. It works every time.

“Super gross. But eventually, you’re gonna get to teach her about all the cool stuff you like, and she’ll probably love things just ‘cause you do. When I was a kid, I wanted to do everything my big brother did. We went as Ash and Pikachu for Halloween 3 years running, and I’d spend all my allowance on Pokemon cards for his collection.”

“You were a baby sister?” He asks, and she swallows down the hurt at the fact he doesn’t really know his uncle Oliver. Or his first cousin removed, whatever it is that they are. Oli’s eldest, James, is only a year older than Jensen, and they barely know of each other’s existence, just another name in a Christmas card they’re too young to read.

Their family is a minefield of hidden feuds and bad communication skills, but she’d like to think Elsie is attempting to break the generational patterns.

Maybe she could do that.

“Yeah,” Poppy chuckles, clicking the tiny brick into another and checking it against the picture in the booklet. She hasn’t felt like a little sister in a long time. “We’re not all that bad, as long as you’re nice to us.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty cool.” Jensen nods, and he smiles so big that Poppy notices for the first time that he’s finally missing a tooth. 

“Your sister will be pretty cool too,” she tells him, resisting the urge to tell him about a few other guys missing teeth that she knows. 

“Yeah, when she stops pooping all the time.” He giggles.

“Definitely.”

He continues building his car for a second, until he asks, “Hey, Auntie Poppy?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“How is she coming out?”

“How is she-,” her mouth flops open in shock. Of all the things in the world he wants to come to her about, he has to be joking with this. Talk about timing. “Your mom hasn’t handled that one?”

“Nope. And she won’t tell me how she got in there.”

“Yeah, that’s not really my area of expertise, kid.” If only he was old enough to understand irony. “How do you think she’s gonna come out?”

“I think they’re gonna have to crack mommy like an egg.”

“Oh, that-,” Sounds like something the girl with the list might be interested in, Poppy thinks, her mind going places she hadn’t yet dared to let it go. “That actually makes sense.”

“I knew it.”

Poppy hadn’t realised she had spent the better part of 90 minutes on Jensen’s bedroom floor with him, but it was the only place that felt safe - building Lego cars and skirting around the question of, if my mommy is my mom cause I grew in her belly, then how is my daddy, my dad?

That had genuinely stumped her.

How do you explain genetics to a 5 year old without getting too graphic about it?

She hadn’t been able to argue with the validity of the question - the kid is curious, God help his parents, and she thinks she might have to turn her phone off later to avoid angry calls from Elsie and Jared about why their son is asking them about DMA and Jeans.

She tried to tell him that he was made up of parts of each of them. That he had his mom’s eyes, and her mouth and chin, but he had his dad’s curly hair and his pointed nose. But that had just caused a whole other slew of questions.

And a whole other bunch of thoughts that she was actively trying to fight.

Thoughts of a baby with chocolate brown eyes and hair that goes a little lighter in the sun. Little pudgy arms that cling around broad shoulders, and soft, tiny lips that press wet kisses into a stubbled jaw and giggle at the way it tickles them.

Thoughts of little clumsy legs that will learn to run before they learn to walk, and, when given the chance, will always run straight into muscled arms and a tattooed bicep curling around their tiny frame, a deep laugh ringing in the air between them and dark eyes meeting hers over a mop of fluffy hair.

Thoughts of 6-foot-something someone sitting on the floor with an almost 6 year old, building Harry Potter Lego trains and patiently directing them on what goes where.

For most of those 90 minutes, she hadn’t felt sick. She hadn’t felt nauseous, or panicky or anxious.

She had felt longing, and hopeful, and full.

And as soon as she had left that room, those feelings had swirled into dread again. 

At least Nia had herself a good time. 

She had won the game of Baby Bump Balloon Pop, which Poppy is glad she had missed - if she had to watch a bunch of exploding baby bumps, she might have had a heart attack - and had used her almighty eavesdropping skills to thrash everyone at Don’t Say Baby - ending up with 16 clothes pegs and winning herself the esteemed prize of a bottle No-secco, which she has been ranting about the whole drive back to Poppy’s apartment.

“I get that it’s a baby shower, but come on, the rest of us can still drink! When did Elsie become such a bore,” she whines as the two of them make it through the front door, Nia throwing her jacket onto the coat rack and Poppy making her way straight over to sit down. “Hey, I thought you said you were feeling better,”

“I am,” Poppy feels okay to know that it’s only a half-lie. She does think she caught some kind of food poisoning initially, and the sweats and shivers had subsided since last week, but she can’t find anything to subdue the queasiness at every strong smell or icky thought that crosses her mind. 

“Then why did you flake on me at the party?”

“I didn’t flake, I told you, I was hanging out with Jensen. He was a little down. Also that conversation about snot was too much.”

“Okay, but you were being weird before that. And you’ve hardly spoken the whole way back here.”

“I’m fine.”

“C’mon, Pop, out with it,” Nia sighs as she throws herself into the couch beside Poppy.

“Out with what?” She huffs in response as she works at unzipping her boots.

“Whatever’s got you wound up tighter than a drum, you’ve been acting super weird all day.”

“I haven’t been super weird.” Poppy frowns, throwing the boot she’s just shucked off with a little more passion than is probably warranted, doing little to disprove her best friend’s point.

“You didn’t crack a single joke about how Elsie’s giving her kid a pornstar name. Mia Moore. She’ll be getting bullied for life, Poppy. Even Jared says it with that stupid Italian hand gesture.”

“Maybe I’ve matured,” she shrugs, pushing herself up from the couch and making her way over to the refrigerator, hoping that sticking her head in there for a second might disguise the fact that she is still turning green from waves of nausea. 

“Not likely,” Nia obviously follows, slamming the door shut before Poppy can even adjust her eyes to the light. “You’re being weird.”

“Am not, you are.”

“Oh yeah, real mature,” Nia rolls her eyes before narrowing them at her best friend. “You’re being quiet, and you’re clearly freaking out about something, so why don’t we cut out your very obvious internal meltdown and you just tell me what’s going on?”

Poppy swerves around her, reaching out to where a grocery bag sits on top of her counter, and empties the contents until they scatter across the surface in gentle, staggered thuds. 

“Holy shit.” Nia breathes out, carding through each box as if she’s taking stock. “You know you only need one of these, right?”

“I didn’t know which one was the best, so I got all of them.”

“I think pregnancy tests are pretty universally reliable, Poppy.”

“Yeah, well, they’re non-refundable, so I’ve decided I’m doing every single one and working out the average.”

“Oh my god, the vomiting,” Nia gasps, as if the situation is only just dawning on her - never mind the multiple boxes of tests Poppy has just unveiled on her kitchen counter. “And you had to change your dress earlier, ‘cause it was making your boobs hurt!”

“I didn’t buy these for a fun evening experiment,” she quips, sarcastically, “My period should have been last week, too.”

“Oh my God!”

“But I also can’t be pregnant,”

“Why not?”

“Maybe because then I’d be carrying the baby of a man who wants nothing to do with me?” 

“Okay, calm down, Mrs Theatrical.”

“My karma can’t be that bad. I recycle, I adopt a whole pride of lions in Kenya and my $5 a month contributes to them being safe from poachers! Poachers, Nia! I donate to charity, I don’t steal, I don’t lie, I love thy neighbour,”

“I think you loved thy neighbour a little too much,” Nia cracks, swiftly catching the box that Poppy throws straight at her. “What? You laid that one straight out for me!”

“This is not the time for jokes.”

“You’re right, it’s the time for you to put on your big girl pants and go pee on some sticks.” She holds out the box that had just been launched at her, and Poppy swipes it with a levelling glare. “You’re being ridiculous, Poppy.”

“Fine,” she grunts in displeasure, “But I’m gonna remember how unserious you were about this when it’s your turn for a scare.”

“I have an IUD babe, some of us practice caution when we take hunky men into our beds!” She calls out after her, and Poppy hates how she can still hear her laugh when she slams the door of her bathroom.

“Oh, thank God,” Poppy lets out a sigh of relief once the line forms clearly, the lack of a second allowing her heart rate to slow to a bearable speed and the device in her hands feeling a whole lot lighter than it had a minute ago. “It’s negative!”

“Poppy,” Nia yanks the test from her grip, beyond caring at this point where the piece of plastic has been, and throws it into the pile on the table, “Delusion isn’t going to work for this, that’s one out of fourteen. You know damn well you’re pregnant.”

“But all the boxes say they’re 98% accurate! What if this is the only right one?”

Nia swats at her boob, and Poppy clutches at her chest as the pain merges into the ever-present ache she has felt there for the past week-or-so. 

“Ow, don’t do that, I told you they’re sensitive right now!”

“Oh, I wonder why!” She contends, “Poppy, you’ve taken like $100 worth of tests here, how many more do you need to do until you come to terms with the fact that you have a baby growing in there?”

“I don’t know! Maybe you should try one!”

“Pop, come on-,”

“No, seriously, because what if I bought a bunch of bad ones? Like placebos or something? And if you get a false positive, then we would know!”

“Why would they make placebo pregnancy tests?”

“Duh, for money! Big pharma, Ni! It’s a real thing!”

“You have to be joking,” Nia throws her arms up in exasperation, “Poppy, you’re vomiting,” she holds up her thumb, “Your boobs ache,” she adds a finger, “You should have had your period by now,” and another, “and I don’t even have enough fingers to take into account how many pregnancy tests have told you so, you’re pregnant! The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can be serious and figure this out!”

Poppy picks out a fresh test from the last packet and pushes it into Nia’s chest, a stern look on her otherwise panicked features, “Go pee.” She demands, and when Nia levels her with a look back, she adds a desperate, “Please?”

“Fine,” she grumbles, before wagging an authoritative finger at her friend, “But this is the last one either of us are doing, okay? And because you’re being ridiculous, I get to gloat when it’s negative.”

“Yeah, fine,” Poppy shrugs with feigned nonchalance, and as soon as Nia disappears into the bathroom, Poppy starts refilling her bladder for the last test in the packet.

“You are unbelievable,” Nia sighs when she returns a minute later to find her chugging at a bottle of water. She snatches the last unopened test away, stashing it down her bra where Poppy won’t be able to get it.

“What? I drink when I’m nervous!”

“Yeah, tequila. You’re stressing me out. We’re gonna set the timer on this and while it’s going down we’re gonna talk about it.” Nia throws her own test onto the empty side of the coffee table before she gets her phone out and starts a timer for three minutes. “Sit down, and for the love of God, give me that bottle.”

Poppy sits, surrendering the drink to Nia with a frown and throwing herself down onto the couch in child-like stubbornness. 

“You’re pregnant. We can sit here all night and take a thousand tests, and they’re all gonna tell you the same thing,”

“Not all of them-,”

“Shut up. Do you want to have a baby, yes or no?”

“Nia,” Poppy whines, “It’s not that-,”

“Yes or no, Poppy?”

“Fine, yes!” It almost shocks her how easy the answer comes out.

“Do you want to have this baby?”

“Yeah,” she pouts, tears pricking at her eyes as she accepts her reality for the first time since the thought had so innocently been forced into her mind by Nico’s mom. 

She wants the pudgy armed, brown eyed, giggling ball of joy she had conjured up in her brain earlier.

She wants to wrap it up in fluffy animal themed bath towels, pull the hood up just above its eyes and take a million pictures, and tickle at the back of it’s chunky little legs until dimples form in it’s puffy cheeks and her apartment is filled with the sounds of squeaky little laughter.

And she knows that it isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. She knows she’ll never sleep a full night again, knows she’ll never have free time to do what she wants or that she might lose every ounce of sanity she has left, but she feels like the good stuff outweighs the bad.

“Then why the hell are you going crazy, Pop?” Nia sits right beside her, arm wrapping around her to console what could potentially be a weeping, hysterical shit-show.

“Because it’s a gigantic mess, Ni!” She whines, “My hormones are going apeshit, and all I want is to go to Nico, and to tell him what’s going on, but he doesn’t want me, and this is gonna ruin everything! He’s gonna hate me, he’s gonna want nothing to do with me, and I’m gonna have to quit my job, and then I won’t be able to afford living here and raising a baby on my own, so I’ll have to move back home, and that means this poor innocent clump of cells inside me is gonna grow up in a house with my mother because it’s own mom is hopeless and then the baby will resent me because I can’t do this on my own!”

“Poppy, slow down, breathe,”

She knows she’s hyperventilating, but she can’t stop. Can’t slow down until she gets it all out.

“Nico’s gonna hate me. He’s gonna think I’m trapping him, and he’s gonna think I’m crazy and obsessed with him and maybe I am, you know, maybe this is all my fault and deep down a part of me wanted this to happen because who in their right mind doesn’t even stop to think hey, you probably shouldn’t be coming inside me when we haven’t even talked about it,” she sees Nia wince somewhere out of the corner of her eye, “and he’s gonna blame me for getting in the way of his perfect life with his pretty girlfriend and she’s gonna hate me-,”

Nia squirts her with the bottle, underestimating the spout and pretty much covering Poppy’s entire face with water until it’s dripping from her eyelashes and she has to huff it out of her nose.

“Nia, what the fuck?!” Poppy frowns, looking down at the mess of water that covers her legs and is dripping onto her couch.

“You’re going insane! I didn’t know how else to get you to stop aside from slapping you, and I can’t hit a pregnant lady!”

“But you can waterboard her?!”

“Oh my God, how dramatic can you be?”

“Uh, I think I get a pass right now!” Poppy scoffs, swiping at the droplets running down her face and splashing them over at Nia in retaliation. “You’re not being very helpful.”

“That’s because you’re being stupid.” Nia levels, “You’re not hopeless, Poppy, you’re the smartest, strongest person I know. If that idiot can’t see that, then it’s his own loss, and if he wants nothing to do with you then you’ll be fine. You don’t need him. We can figure this out, you and me together. We can find a place and we can live together again, I’ll be the dad, I’ll take care of you.”

“Ni, I can’t ask you to do that,”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you.” She asserts, taking Poppy’s still wet hands in her own, “And I’m also telling you that as mad as I am at him right now, Nico isn’t the type of guy that would let you do this on your own, Poppy. You know for a fact that I won’t let a man make a fool out of either of us more than once, so I know I’m not wrong when I say that he is not going to hate you, he isn’t going to blame you.”

“He still doesn’t want me.”

“You don’t know that, Poppy.” Nia tries to reason with her, “You didn’t let him tell you what he wanted.”

The shrill sound of Nia’s alarm interrupts the moment, and Poppy sniffles as her best friend reaches for her phone and picks the test up while she’s there.

She hands the test to Poppy, who sighs as she looks over the result, and rolls her eyes before huffing out a jeering, “You win. Congratulations, you’re not pregnant.”

Nia is too busy typing away at her phone to respond, and after a minute of Poppy glaring at her - annoyed that her focus has diverted elsewhere and more annoyed that she has to be right all the time - her face breaks out in a celebratory grin.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” she huffs out a breathy chuckle, the grin widening with every passing second. 

“What? What could possibly be funny about this?”

Nia turns the device in her hand so Poppy can see the screen - a picture of a small dusting of what looks like crushed black pepper. It's one of those websites that compares the size of a baby in the womb to different foods.

“Your baby is the size of a Poppy seed,” Nia’s face settles into a soft, loving smile, her eyes rounding in awe as she awaits Poppy’s reaction.

Poppy reads the description below.

At four weeks, the foetus is about 2mm or 0.3 inches long, and weighs less than a gram but is growing rapidly in your womb!

“Holy shit.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come up with you?”

The inside of Nia’s car is warm and comforting, the heat cranked so high that Poppy doesn’t want to leave into the cold, even if it’s just for the few seconds between the vehicle and the entrance to Nico’s building.

It’s nothing to do with the nerve-wracking conversation she is about to have.

Nothing at all.

“I’ve got to put on my big girl pants, remember? Let him tell me what he wants before I decide it in my head.”

“I’ll be here if you need me,” she pats Poppy’s thigh in consolation, “And if I need to come up there and kick his ass, just give me a call.”

“I will.”

“Good luck!”

Poppy shuffles out of the car and holds her jacket tighter around her as she makes her way over to the doors of the apartment building, harsh winds whipping at her face and causing her to grimace before she makes it to safety, the doors pressing closed behind her in a gentle thud. 

She’s surprised to see Lionel still sat at his desk, a little later than he normally works, but the familiar face gives her a little bit of reprieve, and the friendly smile he flashes her way calms her rampant heart.

“Hi, Poppy,” he stands to greet her, “You here to see the boys?”

“Nico, actually,” she responds, and watches as he presses his button for the elevator without question, typing something else while he waits for the notification it’s on its way down. “You’re here late.”

“So are you.” He gives a knowing smile back, looking at her over the top of his glasses and causing her skin to turn warm. “Our night guy, Evan, just had a baby, I stick around until he can do bedtime with his wife.”

“That’s sweet of you.” She ignores the lump in her throat at the mention of babies. “I bet it’s nice of him to still get that time in the routine.”

She wonders if that’s something Nico would do - fight to make it home for every bedtime, getting one of the guys to pick up his media responsibilities after a game so he could give their baby an evening bottle and a kiss goodnight.

“He makes sure I have coffee and a donut waiting for me on the desk when my shift starts in the morning, so I can’t complain.”

“Oh, wins all around then,” she chuckles, and thanks him as he walks with her to the elevator.

“It sure is, you have a nice evening, Poppy, I’ve sent Mr Hischier a message that you’re on your way up.”

“Thanks, Lionel,” she hums, appreciative that she isn’t springing a visit on him entirely out of nowhere, now. “Get home safe!”

Lionel presses the buttons for her, and gives her a cheerful wave as the doors close between them, leaving her to her own anxiety for company. 

The elevator ride up is torturously slow, the numbers rising at a mocking pace, and she can feel her heart hammering with every second that passes. When the doors open, she doesn’t immediately step out, and has to reach a shaking hand to stop them closing again and going back down.

As much as she is dreading this, she needs to get it over with.

Once she has told him, it’s done.

He can tell her what he wants and she can just live with it.

No more running through every nightmarish scenario in her head, no more imagining the other side of conversations and mentally booking flights to faraway countries to get away from her problems.

She will tell him she’s pregnant, and then the ball is in his court. Or the puck is in his rink. Whatever.

Her feet feel heavy as she moves toward his apartment, and when she’s stood in front of his door, she raps her knuckles harshly against the wood before she can convince herself not to.

And then she waits.

And waits.

And continues to wait until it starts to frustrate her, knocking again with the side of her fist in jerky movements that rattle the surface.

He’s definitely home, she thinks - she’d shamelessly stalked him on Find My Friends. Lionel had sent the message she was coming up. He has to be home.

Unless he’s down at Jack and Luke’s place.

She isn’t telling him there. God knows what those two would have to say about it.

What if she’s there?

Oh God, she hadn’t even thought about that. 

What if he isn’t answering because he doesn’t want Talia to see her there.

Shit.

Before she can duck and run, before her brain can even send out the direction to get the hell out of there, the door swings open, and she clumsily stumbles back with a surprised gasp.

Nico stands on the other side, skin dripping wet, steam coming off him like something out of a movie, and a towel clutched with a tight fist around his waist that also has a grasp on his phone. His hair is soaked, slicked back out of his face and her eyes are drawn to a droplet of water that trails down from his jaw, beneath a gap where the gold chain he is still wearing doesn’t quite sit flush against the base of his neck, and she watches it disappear into the tuft of dark hair that has grown in the centre of his chest.

“Poppy,” he’s breathless, like he’s just booked it down the hall to get to her, no doubt leaving a trail of soggy footprints in his path, “Hi.”

“S-sorry,” she stutters, making a serious mental effort to keep her eyes on his face. “Is this a bad time?”

“No!” He exclaims, eyebrows shooting up in panic, “No, you’re fine, come in.”

“Are you sure? I can come back,”

Nico steps back, giving her space to come in and tilting his head in a silent invitation. “Positive,” he watches as she takes a cautious step into his apartment, and he closes the door softly behind her. “Let me just,” he gestures to his body as if she isn’t actively trying to avoid looking at it, and she presses her lips together to save herself from audibly gulping. “I’ll get dressed. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just be a second.”

Jesus Christ.

If Poppy’s heart wasn’t about to beat into oblivion before, it sure is now.

He rushes off down the hall toward his bedroom, and she steps a little further into the open plan of his apartment, casting her eyes in a quick glance across the room.

She can’t help herself - one of the few traits inherited from her mother - if she’s invited into someone else’s home, she’s going to be nosey.

She hasn’t spent much time in Nico’s apartment, before. Back before Summer last year, most of their time together was either spent out or round at her place. He had always said it was for convenience - he would rather be the one that had to drive home, and her place was closer to everything else so it just made sense - but she still thinks in the few times she had seen it, it looks different.

He’s rearranged the furniture, he has a new couch, his kitchen has a new coffee machine. He used to have a couple pictures of his family around, but she can’t see them from where she is.

In fact, she can’t really see anything personal.

If she compares it to her own cluttered space, his apartment looks fresh out of a catalogue. Stone walls, grey fabrics, brown leathers, random red pieces like the odd book and some candles, like he’d picked a page out of Bachelor Pad Weekly and handed it over to a designer with the sole instruction to copy and paste.

There’s a floor to ceiling shelving unit that seems to act as a separator, and it has random sculptures and trinkets she can’t see him picking out for himself. 

She tries not to think too much about how his place differs from her own. How she still has pictures of the two of them scattered in every room.

Guys don’t put as much thought into stuff like that.

She tells herself as much as she’s reading the spines of some of the books that line the shelves - hardbacks that look more like decoration than anything he would actually read - and she finds herself fiddling with the bunch of plastic in her pocket to ground herself.

There isn’t a single feminine thing about the place - almost like he’s scrubbed clean any trace of a woman ever living with him, which shouldn’t ease the tension in her shoulders as much as it does.

She isn’t here to worry about his choice of decor, or who may or may not have had a say in it. 

She isn’t here to question why she sees him in every corner of her home and she is nowhere in his.

She’s here to talk. 

“Sorry,” Nico returns, and she swivels where she’s stood to take him in. Sweatpants slung low on his hips, a slight gap between those and the hem of the t-shirt that sticks to his every muscle like second skin. A towel held up to his head to try and drain out the excess moisture. “I wasn’t expecting company so I hopped in the shower, I was ignoring the knocking until I saw the text to say it was you.”

“Yeah, I,” her tongue swipes at her parched lips, and she blinks away the daze he always seems to cast upon her. “I figured we need to talk.”

He takes an eager step forward, gesturing over to his couch and waiting for her to perch down uncomfortably on the edge before he sits on the cushion beside her - keeping a respectable distance between the two of them.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he seems nervous, and it makes her chest feel tight. “I wanted to apologise for the other day. I pretty much cornered you when you asked me for space and I didn’t mean to push you. Especially when you weren’t feeling great. If it helps, my mom laid into me when I drove her back to her hotel.”

“It’s alright,” she squeaks out, meekly, thinking that maybe if she lets him off the hook for that, he’ll let her off the hook for this.

“It’s not. I’ve dealt with this whole thing so wrong, I need you to know I didn’t mean what I said that night in your apartment. Y’know, about-,” he shakes his head as if trying to gather his thoughts, “About what we did. I don’t think we made a mistake. I made one, with how I handled everything after, I-,” she knows she shouldn’t let him ramble on, shouldn’t let him think she needs him to beg for her forgiveness before he knows the full extent of what he’s asking, but she’s spent 4 weeks imagining what he might want to say to her, and she wants to hear it. “You were right the other day, I haven’t been a good friend to you, Poppy, I was selfish and you deserve better. You deserve to make your own decisions and I’m sorry I took that from you.”

Poppy is usually better at catching herself before she cries in front of anyone else - the warning signs of an ache at the back of her throat and the corner of her eyes stinging coming up in advance - but this time, her lip starts to tremble before she’s able to get a grasp on her emotions, and a sob racks through her before she throws her head into her hands.

“Whoa, hey,” she feels a large, warm hand stroking at her back, and feels the couch dip as Nico shuffles closer to her, their knees knocking and his arm swinging around her shaking body. “Please don’t cry,”

“I’m so sorry,”

“No, Poppy, you have nothing to be sorry for-“

“I don’t want you to be mad at me.” She cries, her voice strained as if she’s choking back another sob as she looks up at him, arms cradling herself for a slight reprieve of comfort.

“Why would I be mad?” He questions, his arm still rubbing soothingly at hers as she unravels in front of him. “What’s going on, Poppy? I’m worried about you,”

“Do you promise me you won’t hate me?”

“Mohn,” Nico sighs, running his spare hand through his still-damp hair and making sure it stays slicked back. 

“Please?”

“I could never hate you,” He assures her, and, as resolute as he sounds, she tilts her head, urging him to say what she wants to hear. “I promise.”

She takes a second to even out her breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, until she no longer feels like she’s about to implode, and Nico waits, watching with his own bated breath.

“I uhm,” she takes a shaky inhale, trying to build the courage to come out and just say it, but her mouth just bops open like a fish, the words refusing to come out. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the handful of tests she had haphazardly stashed in there, before reaching forward and dropping them carelessly onto the coffee table - the plastic scattering across the surface and making a clattering sound against the solid wood.

Nico’s eyes drop to the sticks that are splayed out in front of him, his own words failing him as if he daren’t speak them into existence. His eyes close a few times in forced, hard blinks, as if he’s trying to determine the reality of the situation, and he reaches out to take one of them in his hand before she presses her shaky fingers to his arm in an attempt to stop him.

“I peed on those, I wouldn’t touch ‘em.”

He ignores the warning, picking up another, bringing them up to his face so he can read what he must already know they all say. The dim light of his living room does little to mask the shock on his face.

“You’re-,” his words drift off, and his eyes flicker back to the two tests left.

“I’m pregnant.” Her voice cracks as she says it, holding back a choking sob that strains her throat. She can no longer stomach the thought of not saying it out loud.

Silence lingers between them like a rubber band, ready to snap. She can feel every liquid ounce of blood rushing through her body, can probably hear the whoosh of it, too, if she focuses hard enough, and she thinks she can see a vein pop in his neck.

“Please say something.”

“It’s mine?”

Their eyes meet, his round and concerned, her’s glassy and afraid, and all she can do is nod.

She doesn’t take offence to the question, knowing he has every right to ask what he needs to. She’s spent the last hour trying to prep herself for the possibility of what he might ask, for an onslaught of potential accusations and finger-pointing.

Even if she only took the tests today, she’s had days to think about this. To ask her own questions, fathom her own feelings, she owes him the leniency to do the same. 

She and Nia had gone through some pretty serious breathing exercises before she drove Poppy out here just to calm her down in preparation for it all. 

“I haven’t been with anybody else.”

“I didn’t use protection,” he stares blankly ahead as he speaks, as if he’s running through the events of that night in his head, the tests still clutched between his thumb and fingers. She shakes her head, and hopes he can see the action in his peripheral, because her tongue currently feels like a paperweight in the dead centre of her mouth, and she probably couldn’t speak if she tried. “And you’re not-,” he seems just as much at a loss, “Protecting yourself?”

If it were anyone else asking her that kind of question, she thinks she’d be a little more on edge, but she knows he isn’t asking to shame her. 

Still, she can’t help the guilt that racks through her entire body. “I was trying a new birth control last year, and it uhm-,” she exhales a shuddered breath, “It didn’t really work for me, so I stopped. I was due back to see my doctor around Christmas, but I pushed it back, and then I- I forgot.” Tears line her eyes again, glossing them over completely until a fat droplet falls straight down her cheek and drips down onto her leg.

“Holy shit.”

She can’t exactly blame him for that response, either. She had said the exact same thing. Nia had even reacted the same way.

“I’m so, so sorry, Nico,” she tries to suppress a sob, but can’t stop the onset of tears, now, her head falling into her hands as her body begins to tremble.

Nico pulls Poppy into him immediately, his arms wrapping around her shaking frame, and he presses his head into the top of hers. Large hands stroke comfortingly up and down her back, trying to hold her as tight as is comfortable so she knows he’s there for her, shushing her and taking slow, measured breaths in the hopes her body instinctively copies him. 

Her body melts into his, soaking up his warmth until it eases all the tension in her muscles, and all she tries to focus on is the rhythmic motion of his touch on her spine.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mohn,” he mutters into her temple, pressing his lips in a gentle kiss to the skin there. “It’s gonna be okay, please don’t cry.”

He sways her gently, lifting a hand to stroke her hair and keeps her in his hold until she starts to properly calm down - sobs becoming sniffles, tremors becoming the occasional shake, and her breaths evening out so she no longer seems like she’s hyperventilating.

Somewhere in her panic, she had taken to clutching at his shirt, the fabric bundled up so tight between her fingers that they start to ache, and she can feel the sharp press of her own nails in her palms. She lays them flat against his chest, ignoring the growing sting she feels when she applies pressure to the crescent-shaped indents, and uses him for leverage to push herself back a little - only going far enough that she can still feel his arms around her, even if they’ve loosened up a little.

She must look a complete mess - lips swollen, nose snotty, eyes red-raw - but he looks at her only with concern rather than any kind of disgust. He brings a hand forward to swipe at the remaining dampness on her cheek, and keeps it there to cup the side of her jaw, stroking tenderly at her face just as he had done the other day, when she had felt like she was floating out of her body and he had grounded her.

“You took those today?” He gestures towards the sticks that are still on the table, the others that had been in his grasp before discarded somewhere into the cushions of the couch when he had taken her into his arms. She nods, meeting his dark eyes and watching as they flicker between the features of her own face. “You didn’t know when we spoke the other day?”

She shakes her head, vehemently. “I wouldn’t have tried to push you away if I’d have even thought I could be pregnant Nico, I swear. I thought I was just sick.”

“You would have had every right to push me away, Poppy.” 

“I came here as soon as I knew for sure.” She places her hand over his, her thumb swiping over the knuckles on his hand and her fingers curling around his own digits. “I mean, I was kind of losing my mind so it took me 13 positives to know, but-,”

“You took 13 tests?” When she takes note of his face, he seems like he’s trying to fight a smile. She hadn’t even realised before. 

13 positives to finally convince her, and a baby the size of a Poppy seed, it was always meant to be.

“14 technically, but one was negative,” her lips twist then in slight embarrassment. “I even made Nia take one.”

“Nia knows?”

The would-be smile drops immediately, and the frown that forms on his face almost stops her heart in its tracks. 

“I needed somebody to hold my hand, Nico.” She reasons, head tilting and trying to meet his eyes again, his hand drops from her face, hers falling limply with it, and the look he gives her back is one of resigned acceptance. 

“It should have been me,” he mutters, and when she parts her lips to respond, he shakes his head, “I know I’m the one who hurt you and pushed you away, Poppy, I just-,” he sighs, he isn’t trying to blame her, he’s trying blame himself. “I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

She threads her fingers through his again, bringing their hands between them and holding his firmly in her lap. “I would have come to you, Nico, I just didn’t want to stress you out if it turned out to be negative.”

“Even after what I did?” His voice is the one that’s strained, now, and the sound plucks straight at her heart strings. 

He had hurt her - she knows he understands that - but she doesn’t want him to hurt. She’s never wanted that for him. And with the regret in his eyes and the conflict in his tone, she sees that they’ve both been hurting regardless of what she wanted, so she nods. 

If she had been left to her own devices, earlier - if the baby shower hadn’t conjured up so much anxiety that she erupted on her best friend - she would have ended up in this exact spot. Poppy knows that with everything in her. She would always have come to him.

When she had had her not-so-mini meltdown with Nia earlier, it was his reassurance she craved. 

“You wouldn’t have stressed me out.” He tells her, squeezing back at her hand, and she knows he isn’t putting on a brave face just to make her feel better. “In fact, I feel weirdly calm right now.”

“Yeah, I think you might have calmed me down, too.”

His constant touch, his serene demeanour, he’s done everything in him to make her feel relaxed.

He hasn’t raised his voice, hasn’t pushed her away, hasn’t blamed her or shamed her or made her feel like she is a burden in any way.

He’s just held her in his arms and told her it will be okay, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to show him how much she appreciates it.

She had made herself entirely hysterical with an abundance of what ifs and hypotheticals that she knew in her heart he would never live up to. 

If she had been thinking rationally at all, earlier, she’d have known he wouldn’t get mad, wouldn’t hate her, wouldn’t react in any way other than the way he has. With tender-hearted acceptance and love born from empathy and the long-withstanding trust they share for each other.  

Her mind had spiralled so far beyond the realm of possibility that it had created a version of him in her head that he would never be. One that would have shut her out, left her to deal with her emotions alone. Even when he’d pushed her away the last time, she had been the one to shut the door.

“I-,” he starts to say something, but is interrupted by the buzz of his phone on the coffee table. “Why is Nia calling me?”

“Shit,” Poppy curses, shooting up and dropping his hand in the process, “She’s waiting downstairs for me, she was gonna drive me home.” She pats around her pockets before realising her phone isn’t in them, and it dawns on her she must have left it in the passenger seat of Nia’s car - a really useful spot for it to be.

“It’s alright,” Nico focuses more on consoling her than answering the call, and it rings out before he remembers he should probably have picked it up. “She’s parked on the street?”

“Yeah, right out front.”

“Wait here,” he commands with gentle authority, a hand on her shoulder pushing her softly back down onto the couch. “We need to talk about this, I don’t want you to be home alone, you can stay here tonight,”

“Maybe I sh-,”

“I’ll go down and tell her,” he says with finality, leaving the living area in search of a hoodie he can shrug on. 

“Nico, she isn’t exactly your biggest fan right now,” Poppy warns, following him toward the door to his apartment with a slight bout of panic.

If he goes out there, there’s no telling what Nia might say to him. She’s been on one for weeks about how disappointed she has been in him, and he could be marching straight into the firing line without a clue as to what is waiting for him out there. And he might return with his defences raised.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in a few minutes, just make yourself comfortable, okay?”

He doesn’t really give Poppy much of a choice before he’s dashing out of his apartment, and she doesn’t exactly have the energy to chase him.

She steps back around the couch, feeling a little out of place again as he has, for the second time in one night, left her to her own devices in his space.

She starts to pace, feet padding softly around the pattern of the rug, focused entirely on matching up her steps to the patches within the fabric until she starts to get dizzy.

Then, she finds herself looking around again. Snooping around shelves, eyeing up the cabinet where he keeps odd bits of Devils memorabilia, newspaper cut outs of his biggest games and even a patch of a Switzerland jersey framed in dark wood. 

The rest of the space is minimal, as she had taken notice of before. A couple generic pieces of artwork, nothing too personal anywhere other than that cabinet. A large mirror hung on the wall, that she doesn’t really want to look in, through fear of catching sight of her ghastly reflection, but something else captures her attention in it, entirely.

She turns quicker than she probably should, and her lips part as she steps closer to the wall that had been behind her.

She’d been too focused on her thoughts before - hadn’t noticed it in her initial snooping.

A landscape canvas, framed in the same dark wood as everything else he had in the room that had been a personal touch, large enough to be the only artwork on that wall - a focal piece in the heart of his apartment.

A patch of dainty red flowers seemingly waving in the breeze beside a picturesque coastal view, peaceful waters and some tiny sailboats in the background.

And beneath it, a small plaque just above the base of the frame that reads; Childe Hassam. Poppies, Isles of Shoals, 1891. 

Nico

Nico has never really given much thought to having children, before.

He doesn’t have any problem with kids - he enjoys his mentoring sessions, loves meeting the kids who come to games donning his name on their back and looking at him like he’s their hero, and will always go out of his way to meet fans if he hears there’s a bunch of kids excited to meet him.

But being a part of one of the youngest teams in the leagues means he doesn’t exactly have a lot of dad friends. Sure, a couple of the guys have kids - they bring them to games, to team events and he’s met his fair share of them at family skates, but he isn’t that actively involved in any of their lives.

Whenever he pictures his future, it’s really just hockey. It’s captaining his team all the way to lifting the cup, it’s winning gold in the Worlds or the Olympics, representing his beloved home country and succeeding at the top level with his friends.

And if he’s ever thought about anything outside of that, it’s just been experiencing as many new things as he can before he doesn’t have those kinds of opportunities anymore. Travelling, flitting around Europe with his friends back home, climbing mountains, going to festivals, trying his hand at whatever sport he can. 

He’s never had any inclination for that to change.

Until the thought of having children with Poppy fell into his lap. Or onto his coffee table in the form of a handful of positive pregnancy tests.

And once the initial shock had subsided, once his brain had comprehended the switch between missing her and screaming not to let her go, he had found comfort in the concept of knowing that something about his future was now an almost-certain.

Poppy will be a part of it.

And he will be a part of hers.

It’s with the conviction of those facts that he finds himself jogging across the street to Nia’s Mazda with misplaced confidence. 

Poppy had tried to warn him that she wouldn’t be welcoming and he had shrugged it off, knowing already how pissed her best friend was going to be with him.

A couple nights after she had kicked him out of her apartment, in the depths of his despair and on a lonely evening in a hotel room in Tampa, all he could think of doing to make himself feel better after a loss was to check up on her. Every time he had tried to see her at the Rock the first few days that week before they had gone on the road, she had practically ran the other way, and so as he lay in his hotel bed, muscles aching, mind racing, heart hurting, he had taken to stalking her instagram to see what she had been up to while he had been away.

Her story had been of Nia, the two of them had gone together to get their nails done, and when Nico had clicked on where Nia was tagged in the hope that maybe she had posted a picture of Poppy, it had taken him to a private account he no longer had the privilege of following. 

She had removed him. 

And as he raps his knuckles against her car window, he can see why. 

She’s angry.

“I didn’t call you so that you’d come down here, I called to check on my best friend.” She snaps, the brisk winter air invading her car and making the annoyed huff she gives come out in a misty cloud.

“She’s fine, she’s gonna stay over-,”

“Like hell she is,” she goes to unbuckle her belt, and when she reaches for the handle of the door to open it, Nico promptly pushes it back shut. “Let me out.”

“Come on, Nia,” Nico sighs, “Poppy’s okay, I got her to calm down and we need to talk about things, I don’t want you having to wait out here all night until we do.”

“Right, ‘cause the last time you two had a sleepover, it turned out so well for her.”

Nico finds himself clenching his jaw, not in anger but in shame. Yet another reminder from another person just how much he has messed this all up. 

“I’m gonna wait here until I know this is what she wants to do,” Nia holds out Poppy’s phone, and Nico takes it, immediately thrusting it into the warmth of his pocket. “You make sure she texts me so I know you’re not holding her hostage up there. We have a code. If she doesn’t send it to me in the next five minutes, I’ll literally scale your building to find you and make you hurt in ways you can’t even comprehend.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

He misses the way Luke had subtly threatened him back in the locker room. That was a lot less violent, and while he had taken it seriously at the time, he was a lot less scary than Nia.

She narrows her eyes at him, and he tries to morph his face into one that reflects the gravity of the situation.

He has no intentions of ever making her sad again. He knows that. Hell, Nia probably knows that deep down.

“Thank you for being there for her.” He knows it’s a risky thing to say - Nia and Poppy have been friends since their childhood, there would never be a question over her being there for Poppy - but he’s hoping that she understands what he’s trying to get at. “With the tests and all, holding her hand. I’m glad she has you.”

“You won’t be glad if you don’t get back upstairs in time,” she shoos him away with the flick of her hand, and before he can fully jog back across the street, she calls back out to him. “Hey Nico,” he turns and watches as she leans out of her window a little, voice shouting out as if she has no worries about the repercussions of threatening him so brazenly, “If you ever make my best friend cry again, there isn’t a corner of this Earth that you’ll be safe in, do you understand?”

“I understand.” He nods, before he dashes back into the safety of his building. 

Despite the visceral way in which his life has just been threatened, he finds himself walking with a newfound spring in his step, bounding through the lobby and sending Lionel a friendly salute as he passes him, the old man shaking his head fondly in return.

The elevator flies straight up to his floor, and he’s back inside the warmth of his apartment in no time - all that much warmer now that he has his favourite girl back inside.

“Have you ever seen the movie Taken?” He huffs as he pulls off his hoodie, his head popping out of the neck of the garment in a way that makes his hair fluff out. “I’m telling you, Nia could give Liam Neeson a run for his money. She’s scary.”

He finds Poppy stood in his living room, staring at the wall - not exactly where he had left her but she’s never been one to sit still for too long.

“Poppy?”

“I like your painting.” Her voice is much softer than it had been, before. A little deeper, less strained, like she’s found comfort and isn’t as anxious to speak anymore, which delights him just a little. The energy in the room has shifted since he had left, and what he has returned to is comfortable and serene.

He steps in line beside her, eyes cast upon the canvas she is admiring, and he feels his lips twitch upward. “My mom got it for me,” he chuckles, stepping just the slightest bit closer. “She said my place lacked character.”

She had said some other things, too, about how she’d seen the painting and it had immediately reminded her of him and how it would bring some much needed colour to his apartment, and make it feel more like home but saying those things feels like overkill, and he thinks he’s shared enough for now.

Plus, Poppy knows what the painting means, she doesn’t need him to spell it out for her.

He needs to keep some of his dignity in tact.

“Sounds about right,” Poppy mutters with an astute smile.

The silence that falls between the two of them is one of familiarity and understanding, and he nudges playfully at her side before stepping away.

“I told Nia you’d be staying here. She says you need to text her your code before she murders me.”

“How long did she give you?”

“Five minutes,”

“Dang,” she checks the time quickly on the screen, “I think I might have forgotten it.”

“You’re not funny, Poppy.” He responds, but he’s sure the fond shake of his head and the way he battles the oncoming smile gives him away. “You have a minute left before I’m snatching that back and assuming your code is please don’t kill my baby daddy.”

“That’s a good one.” The smile she gives this time is tired, and for the first time all night, he takes in just how exhausted she looks. Shoulders slumped, shadows under her eyes, slow blinks every time she looks up at him. 

He watches as she types her message to Nia, a feeling of contentment settling in the pit of his stomach despite the intensity of the situation.

She’s here. She’s making jokes. She’s looking him in the eye and smiling like he never hurt her.

She’s carrying his baby.

However small it might be, a part of him is growing within her, and she doesn’t seem all that perturbed by the idea.

He knows that there’s a lot more to talk about, for him to think about even, but he’s content for now just knowing that.

“I think you should get some sleep,” he suggests, his tone comforting and his cadence smooth, “We can talk more tomorrow, but you look beat, Poppy.”

“Yeah, I haven’t really been sleeping right lately.”

“You can take my bed,” he offers, “My mattress is like sleeping on a cloud,”

“No, I can’t kick you out of your bed,”

“I’ll sleep in the spare, it’s fine,”

“No, I’ll sleep in there, I don’t mind!”

“I shoved a kit bag in there before we broke up for All-Stars, before I got the chance to get it washed, I don’t think you’ll get on too well with how that room smells, Poppy.”

“Oh,” she pouts, an adorable frown forming on her face as Nico finds himself almost blushing at the sight of it. “Gross.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “Do you want me to make you anything before you go to sleep?”

“Were you gonna eat?”

“No, I was gonna head to bed early, I have an early morning training session with a couple of the guys. But I don’t mind cooking for you if you’re hungry,”

“No, that’s fine,” she shakes her head, looking up at him with a soft smile, “Nia and I ate before she brought me here. Are you sure you want me to stay if you have plans?”

“Yeah,” he answers with shameless urgency, “I’ll be back early, I can bring you breakfast.”

She bites at the corner of her mouth like she usually does when she’s thinking too much, and he reaches out to swipe his thumb at the side of her chin to pull her lip from the clutches of her teeth.

“I want you here, Poppy. I want to talk about this properly, after you’ve had a good night’s rest and you’re not upset.”

“Okay.” She breathes, “I’ll stay.”

“C’mon, I’ll find you something to wear to bed.”

He holds out his hand, expecting her to swerve it and grasp at his arm instead, but she slides her fingers between his and lets him guide her through his apartment to his bedroom. 

When they’re both inside, he manoeuvres her to sit on the edge of his bed while he looks through his closet, and comes back out with some boxers and an old t-shirt. Poppy always wears shorts when she’s at home, and he figures she’ll be more comfortable in these than any sweatpants he could find. “Here you go, I promise they’re clean.”

“I trust you,” she snorts as she takes the garments from his clutches and stands to change in his en-suite. 

Nico follows her in, and when she turns to question him, he opens up the medicine cabinet above his sink. “I don’t have a toothbrush for you but I have spare heads for mine,” he offers one out to her from the pack, one that has a blue band at the bottom so she’ll be able to tell the difference when she takes the head he uses off.  “There’s soap in there too, and clean washcloths if you wanna take a shower. But if you need anything just let me know and I can pick it up for you on my way home in the morning.”

Before he can step back to head out, Poppy throws her arms around him, discarding the clothes he had given her to the floor and pressing her body firmly into his. 

His own arms circle around her waist, tightening around her frame as his large hands press into her back to keep her close. She’s raised up on her tip toes, her face is shoved into his neck, and he presses his lips to the side of her head, closing his eyes to bask in how good it feels and taking a deep breath of the faint smell of her coconut shampoo.

She pulls away after a minute or two with a quiet sniffle, but only puts a little distance between them before she looks up at him with tears brimming her eyes again.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Poppy,” he reaches a hand to wipe at a stray tear, “I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

“I was really scared earlier,” she hiccups out, “I was driving myself crazy, I was driving Nia crazy, and I-,” her lip trembles, and she shakes her head as if to rid herself of the onslaught of emotions, “I should have just come straight to you. I’m sorry you weren’t the first to know.”

“Hey, no,” he gently grabs either side of her face, stroking at her cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs, “You have nothing to be sorry for, I mean it.”

“But I-,”

“I like how you told me.” He affirms to her - and as much as he had wanted to be the first person who knew, earlier, he knows he means it. Nia is Poppy’s person, if there was one other person in the world he would be okay with knowing over him, it would be her. As much as he likes to think he would have been able to make her feel better in the moment if she was panicking, he doesn’t entirely know if he wouldn’t have panicked himself if things weren’t already confirmed. If he would have slipped up and made her feel worse or said something stupid. “You throwing your little pee sticks down onto my coffee table like some kind of performance art and telling me not to touch them after I already had. It’s kind of funny.”

She giggles, glassy eyes crinkling in the corners until they push a tear that runs into his thumb.

She places her own hands on top of his. “You still haven’t washed your hands, by the way.”

“Shit, sorry,” he grimaces, immediately taking them off of her skin. “I’ll let you get ready, I’m across the hall if you need anything, and I should be back before 11. I’ll bring you whatever you’re hungry for.”

“Okay, I’ll try not to vomit everywhere in the morning while I wait for you to come home.”

Come home. His feels like his heart does a somersault in his chest, bouncing off of each rib that protects it in its place, and the feeling reverberates throughout his entire body.

“I appreciate that.”

He takes a hold of her face again, his fingers tucked behind her ears as he pulls her head to his lips, pressing a firm and affectionate kiss to her crown, just like he used to whenever they said goodbye.

And in a way that melts his thumping heart, she does the same, bringing his face down to her lips to press them into the warm skin of his forehead. 

“Goodnight, Nico,” she hums, her eyes sparkling and her lips spread into a fond smile.

“Sweet dreams, Mohn,” he replies, feeling the press of the dimples in his cheeks and the rush of blood to his head.

When he retreats to his spare bedroom, and collapses onto the firmer-than-he-would-like mattress, he can’t stop the surprising curve of his lips, a soft smile etching itself into his features that feels like it could be a permanent fixture.

He should be terrified. His heart should be beating out of his chest, he should have broken out in a cold sweat and not been able to form words. He should be panicked out of his mind and sick to his stomach.

But there’s a girl he loves more than anything laying in his bed in the room beside his, she’s wearing his clothes, her head is on his pillow, she is wrapped up in his sheets, and she is carrying his baby.

And despite never picturing much of this part of it before, he can see a glimpse of his future ahead of him. 

A future where Poppy’s belly grows round and presses into his whenever she’s close enough that he can pull her into him. A future where tiny sticky hands press into one side of the plexiglass while he’s out warming up on the ice, and his  large, gloved hand presses to the other. A future where he comes home to find her battling sleep with a snoring baby held to her chest, highlights playing with lowered volume on the TV, and they’d snuggle up together until they both pass out, and he gets up to do the middle of the night feed-and-change so that Poppy gets her rest.

And all those worries he had before about never being enough for her fade to nothing, because now he has no choice. 

If Poppy can grow a little human with a tiny beating heart, who is half of him, and half of her, then he can step up for her. 

Whatever she needs him to be, whatever she wants him to be, he’ll be it - and he’ll be it with this same lovesick smile that he now can’t shift. 

So with a content sigh, and a deep longing for the girl laying not even 20 feet away from him, he falls asleep for the first time in 4 weeks at peace with his actions.

—

Over the last four weeks, Nico has spent way too much time retracing his steps to the point where he had so royally screwed things up with Poppy that she had wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. So when he wakes up the next morning before the sun shows any signs of rising - when he quickly gets himself ready to head off to practice, sneaking through his room to go brush his teeth, planting a minty kiss to the sleeping girl’s forehead and making sure she has something to drink for when she wakes up - he places a note beside the glass of water on his nightstand, in preparation for when she wakes up.

This time, he won’t leave her to wake up without him without some sort of explanation. Without an assurance that he’ll be back as promised, and that he can’t wait to see her, and that she should text him when she wakes up and let him know what isn’t going to turn her stomach and he’ll get it for her.

Which is why, when he checks his phone after his training session at the arena gym finishes at 9:30, his heart drops to the pit of his stomach when nothing is there.

It’s still early, he tells himself after a quick shower. She might still be asleep, he thinks as he packs up his toiletries, sets his things aside to be washed and tries to act like his thoughts aren’t eating him alive. She might not have seen the note, he convinces himself as he does a quick round of the grocery store - grabbing her some essentials and replenishing some of the basics he knows he is low on anyway. She wouldn’t have left, he thinks as he watches the numbers go up in the elevator, his feet tapping against the floor nervously as he awaits his stop. 

And when he makes it into his apartment, and she isn’t on his couch, isn’t in the kitchen, isn’t in the bed where he had left her that morning, he starts to panic - until he hears something through the closed door of his bathroom. 

“Poppy?” He asks softly before pushing the door open to see her sat on her knees on the floor beside his toilet, sticky hair matted to her paled skin, and bleary eyes looking weakly up at him. He sinks down beside her, perches himself on his knees and pushes the strands of hair off her forehead and out of her face. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“My phone died,” her voice is strained, and he doesn’t need to look into the toilet bowl to know why. “I tried to find a charger but I couldn’t get up without feeling sick.”

He hadn’t even thought to get her one when he had left her in here last night. “I’ll get you one,” but when he goes to push himself off the ground, she wraps her shaking fingers around his wrist.

“Could you just sit with me for a little?” She asks, “I know I’m gross but I just need you to hold my hair if it happens again, I didn’t bring a hair tie.”

“Of course,” he lowers himself back to the ground beside her, “C’mere,” he swings an arm over her shoulders, pulling her body into his until her head falls weakly into the crook of his neck. He strokes at her hair gently, tucking it behind her ears where she can and trying to soothe her into some sort of comfort. “Have you been here all morning?”

She nods, and he lowers his other arm to tuck his hand under her legs, unbending them as best as he can and stretching them out over his own so that she won’t loose the feeling in them. 

They stay like that for a while, her taking deep breaths to alleviate the nausea and him stroking tranquilly at whatever parts of her he can reach. The soft skin of her thighs and the outsides of her knees with one hand, the slope of her neck and the curve of her shoulder with the other. One of her arms stays bent between them, but the other stretches out in an attempt to touch him back, languidly resting on his torso and occasionally her fingers dance lightly across the fabric of his t-shirt with just enough pressure to make his stomach clench in anticipation.

“You should take a shower,” he suggests after peeking down at her to make sure she hasn’t fallen asleep. “You might feel better.”

“Am I that bad?”

“Doesn’t feel right to chirp a pregnant woman, Poppy.”

The laugh she gives him in return feels like a cherished gift, and his chest swells with pride when she looks up at him and her eyes glimmer under the overhead lights. 

“I got you some things from the store.”

He had spent almost 5 minutes trying to find coconut scented shampoo and conditioner, unscrewing several bottles and trying not to get caught, but he won’t be telling her that.

“And here I was counting my lucky stars you have such an extensive hair wash routine all morning.” She jibes, pointing over to the toiletries inside Nico’s shower. “If you were a 5-in-1 guy I would have seriously reconsidered our friendship.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t have to worry about that, wait here.”

He goes to retrieve one of the bags he had discarded when he got in, and takes it back to Poppy in his bathroom before emptying it out onto the counter beside the sink.

Shampoo, conditioner, a hairbrush, a new toothbrush, deodorant, some face wipes, an unscented body wash, and a packet of anti-nausea medication he had specifically asked the pharmacist for with the assurance it was okay for pregnant women. 

“Oh wow, I must be that bad.”

“Not at all, I just wanted you to feel more comfortable.” He reassures her, and opens a drawer below the sink to get her a washcloth and a fresh bar of soap. “There’s clean towels in the cupboard behind you. And if you want to raise the pressure of the shower, it’s the dial at the top, temperature at the bottom.”

“Got it. Thank you, Nico,” she smiles, and Nico smiles back at the sincerity in her eyes.

“I’m gonna put together something to eat while you’re in there. You don’t have to eat if you don’t feel like it, but is there anything you think you can stomach?”

“Something cold,” she requests, swiping at the packet of medication and curiously reading the label, “That doesn’t have any kind of smell.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he chuckles, “I’ll put some fresh clothes on my bed, just call out if you need me, yeah?”

Poppy nods, and gives him a little salute with a pill packet between her fingers. 

Something cold that doesn’t have any smell.

He had got her fruit from the store - strawberries and pre-cut watermelon, Pink Lady apples because he knows they’re the only kind she will eat - as well as yoghurt, some cereal, some bagels and some eggs and bacon. The eggs and bacon are out of the question, as much as he’d want to make himself a decent breakfast bagel after his training session, but the rest of it seems pretty safe.

He cuts up the fruit anyway, even if she won’t eat it now, he can always send it home with her later. He puts the yoghurt in the fridge so it will stay as cold as possible - he had gotten her coconut flavour, remembering how she had once said it was her favourite, but only the greek type that has the taste of coconut but not the texture. He leaves the bagels to the side, thinking that toasting them and potentially burning them is a little too risky without asking her first, and lays the boxes of cereal in a row on his counter so that she has her choice of the bunch if she wants some.

The pharmacist had recommended ginger shots to help with the sickness, but Nico has tried one too many of those on their own before, and they would make even the healthiest person gag, so he had bought some pre-made smoothies to mix them into. He decides he’ll leave her to pick, and blend it over some ice when she isn’t looking.

And as he flits around his kitchen without giving any of these things a second thought, he feels for the first time in a long time like he has thing figured out.

He can so do this. He can look after her like it’s just second nature to him. He can pick up whatever she needs from the store without panicking down every aisle and googling what is or isn’t okay for her. He can sit and hold her hair while she pukes her guts up and not get freaked out by it even in the slightest. He can go to practice, go to training, go to games, and come home and care for her like how she deserves.

He can do it with his hands tied behind his back, he feels.

He’s full of bravado, and hope, and excitement, and it’s a tornado of feelings that plough straight through whatever he had been feeling before - doubt and anxiety and insecurity.

The only thing that remains is regret.

Regret for what he had done to her, what he had said, the way he had ended things. All of it seems so stupid now. It seems so impulsive and he feels like he had been so blind. 

Blinded by uncertainty, blinded by self-doubt, blinded by the poison spewed by Talia that he wasn’t good enough for anyone.

He should have listened to that tiny voice within him that had told him he could have been good enough for Poppy. Then he would never have hurt her. Would never have spent 4 weeks longing for her and hoping things could be different. 

“You’re gonna have to get me a key cut,” her voice rings down the hall before she appears on the other side of his kitchen island, donning sweatpants that she has had to fold at the waist and a sweatshirt where the arms hang beyond the tips of her fingers. Her hair is damp, her feet are bare, and she looks like she belongs. “I don’t ever want to use another shower in my life.”

“It’s nice, huh?” He chuckles as he leans down onto the countertop, watching her as her feet pad closer, “I sometimes just stand in there for a good five minutes when I’m done, the pressures nice when I’m all achey after a game.”

“I bet, if I didn’t feel hungry for the first time in 2 weeks, I would have stayed in there for like an hour.”

“You feel better?”

“So much better.” She smiles up at him, leaning over the counter and cupping his face with both hands. “You, Nico Hischier, are a gift from God for those pills.” 

She pulls him further over the island and plants a big, wet, somewhat minty kiss on his head, and he finds himself closing his eyes and breathing her in while she’s so close.

Where he expects to smell the coconut shampoo he had searched high and low for, he breathes in something different. Something familiar for an entirely different reason.

She smells fresh, like citrus-bergamot, and a little woody like cedar and musk.

She smells like him.

“The girl at the pharmacy said they should help short term until you can get in to see a doctor.” He tells her as he shakes himself out of whatever spell she had just cast on him.

“Thank you, Nico, you didn’t have to do all of this.”

“I wanted to,” he shrugs, straightening up and moving some of the fruit he had prepared to the counter between them. “I technically caused all of your problems.”

Her lips twist, and he watches as she lifts herself onto one of the stools, swivelling until she’s facing him properly and reaching out to take some of the watermelon. He makes his way over to the refrigerator while she chews on a piece.

“Did you get any-,” and before she can finish her sentence, he brings out the pot of coconut yoghurt and puts it down in front of her. “You’re good.”

“I know, it’s weird.” He leans back down and watches in amusement as she dips her watermelon into the yoghurt. “I was stressing a little on the way to the store about what I could get you, and then as soon as I got there it was like my legs just knew where to go.”

“Maybe you’re gonna be one of those sympathy-pregnancy kind of dads,” she smirks, and his knees start to feel a little like jelly at her use of the word, “Like your boobs will start to hurt and you’ll get all hormonal and cry at everything.”

“I don’t have boobs, Poppy.” He chuckles, reaching out to try watermelon dipped in yoghurt for himself. 

“You know what I mean.”

Poppy works her way through quite a bit of the fruit before she hangs in the towel, and he decides not to subject her to the ginger shot quite yet - her nausea having subsided enough already that it’s probably an unwarranted form of torture at this point.

She helps him put everything away, and the two of them work around each other in the kitchen like a well oiled machine. It feels completely normal to have her in his space. He doesn’t feel the need to busy himself with mundane tasks to occupy his hands or his mind, and she makes everything seem so easy - cracking jokes and making conversation like nothing else is happening in their world.

He could have had it this good this whole time, he thinks.

He could have it this good forever.

The reality of it dawns on him when they eventually make their way over to the couch, the pregnancy tests still discarded where they had left them the night before, two sticking out from the couch cushions and two remaining on his coffee table. He plucks one out from between the seams of his couch, still not caring much for where it has been before, and stares down at the two lines with the kind of smile that makes his cheeks hurt.

“Have you ever thought about it before?” Poppy asks, and as he watches her lean into the back of the couch, he gets the sense she’s starting to build her guard up in anticipation of a blow. “Having kids, I mean?”

“No,” he replies, honestly. “Not properly. Not beyond thinking, like, it might be nice.”

“Do you still think that?” She chews at the corner of her lip, “Is it something that you want?”

“It is now.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.” He gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “I think it’s that I could never picture it happening, before. I’ve never really had anyone I could see myself doing it with.”

“Not even Talia?”

He cringes inwardly at even the mention of her name. “God, no.”

“Really?” She seems as if she doesn’t believe him entirely.

“She’s not-,” he starts, “We weren’t-,” he tries again, and his mind races with a hundred ways to say what he wants to say without Poppy thinking he’s an asshole. “I don’t know.”

“Nico, I really need you to be straight with me here.” She sighs, sitting up straight and shuffling a little closer to him.

“I’m always straight with you.”

“No offence, but I don’t think you are,” she says, and before he can even give a rebuttal, she adds, “It’s not that I think you keep things from me maliciously, but you don’t always give me the full picture, and I,” she takes a deep breath, rolling her shoulders to prepare herself, “I jump to conclusions super easily, and I end up hurting myself when you don’t say whatever it is that you mean. And I think we can avoid all that if we’re just honest with each other. I don’t want us to get into dumb fights and it get in the way of us being friends again.”

He feels his heart come to a thunderous stop. Friends.

“If we’re gonna do this co-parent thing, we need to be honest about what we think and how we feel.”

Co-parents?

“Okay,” he responds, and it comes out like he’s on auto-pilot.

Okay? 

“I know she’s back in the picture, you don’t have to keep pretending.”

“Back in the-“ He shakes his head, his thoughts racing at a million miles an hour. “What?”

“I heard you talking to her, before you left my apartment after we-,” Poppy gestures to her belly, where both nothing and everything has changed all at once, and Nico’s eyes get stuck there as she carries on. “Y’know, and then you broke things off, it hardly takes a genius to add it up.”

“Poppy, no.” He doesn’t remember ever being so direct with her. “No, no, no, that wasn’t-“ She had heard him? “I’m not-,” he takes a deep breath to alleviate the swirl of panic. He needs to be straight with her. “She got herself into some stupid mess, and she thought it was my fault but it wasn’t. I had to help her out, but she’s gone, she isn’t back in the picture, Poppy, I promise. I don’t even know if she was ever in the picture, I-.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

His eyes dart up to meet hers, and where he holds his breath in the anticipation of seeing how much she has been hurting, has been assuming the worst of him and thinking the littlest of herself, he sees everything he loves about her shining back at him. Patience, generosity, forgiveness. 

“After I left you without a word, and came back and ended things before they even began, would it have mattered?”

“Nico, this whole time I thought you shut things down because you wanted to be with her but you just-,” she shakes her head like she can’t bring herself to say the rest, and his throat starts to feel drier by the second.

How could he have ever been so stupid? He had thought he’d been miserable the past 4 weeks, second guessing his choices and wanting nothing more than to just talk to her, and she’s spent that whole time thinking he had discarded her like a used toy and gone back to someone else. Someone who could never compare to her in any universe.

“I really fucked this up, huh?”

“Yeah,” she nods, her lips twitching as the silence settles between them for a second.

He watches as she thinks for a second. Watches her brows furrow and relax, her eyes dart around to different spots between the, her bottom lip get tugged between her teeth, and released into a pensive pout, all before she says, “You can make it up to me,” and she gives a gentle and reassuring smile, reaches out for his hand and presses the soft pads of her fingers to his knuckles before pushing them through the spaces in between. 

Although it pains him to say it, he tells her, “You have to stop letting me off so easy, Poppy.”

“Trust me,” she says, “I won’t be letting you off easy. Us Jensen women are super scary when we’re hormonal. Super demanding and bratty.”

“I’ll take it.” He promises. “And I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need.”

“Right now I just need to know that you’re in this with me,” she requests, so vulnerable in her tone that is makes his chest ache.

He reaches up with his free hand and cups his palm around her soft cheek. “I’m in this,” he whispers, leaning into her and pressing his forehead to hers. “I can't begin to tell you how much I want it, Mohn.”

“Okay.” She whispers back, and when her eyes flutter closed at the proximity, and she surrenders to his touch, Nico gives in to his instincts.

Entirely caught up in the intimacy of the moment, he leans in, and when his mouth presses to hers, he feels the culmination of 4 weeks of longing, of missing her, of regretting everything, of anticipating seeing her, of worrying, of needing of wanting, explode into something vibrant and loud and inevitable.

It’s like a fireworks show, sparks of anxiety, of excitement, of hope and doubt and insecurity clashing together in pops and bangs and fizzes, raining down on him in a mixture of colour and sound. 

“Mmph-,” she squeaks out a protest as his lips meet hers, and despite his primal instinct to persevere, to give her a second to adjust to the kiss and to eagerly accept his advances, to bask in the beauty of it all like he is, he pulls straight away with a furrowed brow, eyes meeting hers in concern as he creates an inch of space between them. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think we should do that,” her eyes dart down, lashes fluttering as she avoids his gaze chasing hers back.

“Do what, kiss?”

“Yeah.”

“Why not?” He doesn’t even feel ashamed at the way he practically whines when asking.

“Would you want to kiss me if I wasn’t pregnant?”

How could she possibly even doubt that? He thinks.

“I always want to kiss you, Poppy.” Again, it’s pointless to second guess those feelings. He’d told her something similar after the first time he had done it, and he had meant it as much back then as he does, now.

“Would you want to be with me?”

That isn’t a matter of want, but this time, he hesitates.

He’ll always want to be with her. 

He’s wanted nothing else the last four weeks they haven’t been talking. For the last few years he has known her. He wants to be with her when he’s alone in his apartment, when he’s away with the team, when he’s back home with his family, he has always wanted that.

And especially now that she’s carrying his baby, as minuscule as it currently may be, it’s going to grow in her belly with eyes that sparkle when it smiles and a brain that thinks exclusively in razor-sharp wit and biting sarcasm. 

“Poppy, I,” he sighs, knowing he can’t undo the damage he had caused that night in her apartment all those weeks ago. Even after clearing up her misconceptions on what was behind it, it doesn’t change what he said. That was never about not wanting her. It was about not wanting to hurt her. But every time he tries to explain it - to her, to Luke, to himself, even - he just sounds like an idiot. “I don’t know.”

He does now. Of course he knows, but something within him tells him that she won’t believe him this time when he tells her. There’s only so many excuses he can give for what he did.

“We can’t just be together because I’m going to have your baby, Nico, that’s not-,” she takes a shuddered breath. “I don’t want you to want to be with me because it’s convenient.”

“That isn’t what this is.”

“I don’t think you even know what you want,” she says, her tone light and comforting despite the harsh reality check being served, “And that’s okay, but I’m not gonna be a guinea pig for you to figure it out. That isn’t fair to me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that sometimes you make decisions in the heat of the moment when you might not mean or want them.”

Nico lets her words dawn on them for a second.

If only she knew how much that were true.

“I don’t say that to be an asshole, either, I just,” her tongue darts out to wet her lips, the ones he had pressed his own to barely a minute ago and hadn’t savoured enough while he was there. “Rushing into things is what got us into this, and I don’t want to,” her eyes meet his again and he holds his breath in anticipation. “I don’t wanna get hurt again. Especially not now.”

He wants to say he would never hurt her, but he can’t make promises like that when those are the thoughts that caused such a mess in the first place. 

He had hurt her before whether he intended to, or not, and what’s to say he isn’t going to fuck this up again along the way.

“I want this, too. I want it so much it drives me a little crazy, but it feels right. And I think there’s a way that we can do this where it might hurt a little now but it stops us hurting later down the line, where it has the potential to do some serious damage. Does that make sense?”

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe they can do this another way. A way where neither of them are left disappointed.

He gets his friend back, and she gets hers.

And they both get a baby.

A baby that has two parents who love each other more than anything in the world still. Who share so much of their lives together, but might never take that final leap into something more.

He nods, wordlessly. 

“I’m not saying that we can’t go back to how we were before, but we both let things get too intense, and I know I’m probably at fault for that, but I think we’ll be better off if we just take things slow.”

“Slow.” He repeats, like he’s trying to get a taste for the word. He doesn’t entirely like it, but he doesn’t hate it like he thought he would.

“Yeah, like being a little more cautious of how far we take things. We start as friends and see how we get on with that.”

“Like baby steps,” he mutters.

Poppy smiles. It’s the slow kind, that builds from something soft to something beaming, something beautiful, and turns into joyous laughter like music to his ears. It’s vibrant and wonderful, and it makes his heart ache all the more. “Yeah,” she lets out a breathy chuckle, “Exactly like baby steps.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk @dasiysthings (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

[boulevardk]

Are you ever going to write a part 2 to show you the ropes.. 😭

LMAO you know what's so funny is that the next chapter is lying in my drafts maybe 1/3 done and collecting dust 💀 one day i'll finish it but damn is it hard to write a series ‼️ shout out to all the writers like @madamechrissy who can put out entire series bc that shit is SO EXHAUSTING

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent a another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[mcrdvcks]

Oblivious, Baby, Oblivious

Summary: People would tell you that geniuses don't know everything, but you tell them that defeats the purpose of the word. Until one day you're proven wrong.

Word Count: 17.4k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: i came up with this idea a few days ago and had to write it down. basically reader is a genius and her mutation is controlling nature (her code name is 'flora' but it's not used often. and yes, it's a winx club reference, sue me)

i tried to make it as inclusive as i could, but i'm still learning since this is only my second reader fic.

i would like to turn this into a oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests!

warnings: few uses of y/n, logan uses a lot of pet names for reader, slight innocent!reader

You had only been at the X-Mansion for a year and yet all the students seemed to love you. At first, you thought that no teenager would want to come out to the large greenhouse you had set up, but you were proven wrong.

At the end of every day, right before dinner, dozens of kids would come out and help you water the plants and pull out the weeds.

It was certainly not what you expected to do after college, especially after only having your PhD’s for 2 years. It had all started when you met Hank McCoy at a science conference in New York City. You had graduated a mere few weeks ago and were out trying to network when you met him.

After that, Hank took you to meet Charles Xavier and he offered you a two-sided job, teach a few classes and be part of the X-Men, after you went through some training. You didn’t know how to fight at the beginning, but now you think you’ve got the hang of it.

You had just finished teaching your advanced physics class, standing at your desk gathering up the papers before going to your office to grade them, when someone knocked on the open classroom door.

Logan stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with that usual smirk tugging at his lips. “You done for the day, sweetheart?”

You looked up from the pile of papers, surprised to see him there, though you probably shouldn’t have been. Logan had this way of showing up whenever you least expected it, always with some sort of pet name that left your students giggling.

When you first arrived at the school and started your training, it was Logan and Ororo who helped you learn how to fight. You certainly were not on a level like Logan, but you now knew how to hold your own without completely relying on your powers.

Logan was probably the one you were closest to at the mansion, save for Ororo and Jean. You enjoyed his company, even in the late nights when you would tend to the plants and he would stand quietly nearby smoking a cigar.

“Just about,” you replied, straightening the stack. “I was going to head to my office and grade these. Why? You need something?”

Logan pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered toward you, his boots thudding lightly against the floor. “Can’t a guy just drop by and check in on ya?”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I guess, but somehow I doubt you’re just here to ‘check in.’” You shuffled the papers into a neat stack, slipping them into a folder. “So, what’s up?”

Logan shrugged, hands now in his jacket pockets as he stood a few feet away from your desk. “You’ve been buried in books and papers all week. Thought you could use a break.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be done grading these in like an hour. It doesn’t take me long. Unlike someone else.”

Logan snorted, a small smile forming as he tilted his head at you. "Yeah, well, not all of us have two fancy PhDs and can finish things in a blink, darlin’."

You laughed softly, putting the papers into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “You’re just mad because I keep proving I’m right.” You rounded your desk, smirking. “Plus, I’m having a movie night with Jean and Ororo. See? I can take breaks.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile as he leaned in just a little, casting you that knowing look he always had when he was teasing you. “Movie night, huh? Lemme guess—something boring and science-y?”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you zipped up your bag. “Not every movie night is a science documentary, Logan.”

“Mmhmm,” he replied, the teasing drawl in his voice making it clear he didn’t believe you for a second. “So, what are you watchin’, then? Some quantum physics thriller?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “It’s The Princess Diaries this time, actually. But I do like documentaries, so don’t knock them.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and deep, and for a moment it made you forget the pile of grading still waiting for you. “I’ll let it slide this time, darlin’. But if I hear you talkin’ about how accurate the physics are in some movie during your ‘break,’ I’m dragging you out of that mansion myself.”

You gave him a mock-serious look. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would,” he shot back, his smirk widening. “And we both know I could.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. Logan had a way of just picking you up—literally—and dragging you away when he thought you’d been working too hard. Sometimes you suspected he enjoyed it a little too much.

Before you could retort, Logan's expression softened slightly. “Look, Y/N, I’m serious. You’ve been bustin’ your ass all week. Go take a real break tonight, will ya?”

There it was again. That rare softness he showed only to you, like the tough exterior melted away for just a second. You never really knew how to respond when he got like that, so you shrugged casually and smiled. “I’ll take it easy tonight. Promise.”

“Good,” he said, his voice gruff but warm. “’Cause I don’t wanna hear about you passin’ out from exhaustion or whatever it is geniuses do when they work themselves to death.”

You walked to the door and turned back to face him, “Einstein slept 10 hours during the night and took regular naps.” You gave him a wink and walked down the hall towards your office, a satisfied smirk on your face.

Logan watched you disappear down the hallway, shaking his head with a faint smile. He wasn't sure when it started, but something about your energy, the way you threw yourself into everything—whether it was the students, your research, or even the X-Men's missions—had caught his attention. And now, it was hard to get you out of his head, let alone his senses.

He could always tell when you were nearby or recently in an area—your perfume was inherently you, mango with an undercurrent of something woodsy. And you always looked cute, a word Logan thought he’d never use. You constantly wore colors, usually pastels in varying shades, whether it be a shirt, your shoes, or even accessories in your hair. It was almost ridiculous how someone with two PhDs and the kind of brain that could out-think just about everyone around her could be so oblivious to certain things.

And that was why he found you so fascinating.

You were brilliant, no doubt about it—always talking about equations, theories, and whatever else you’d been reading about. But somehow, you never seemed to notice when he was flirting with you, which had become Logan's new favorite game. He knew exactly what he was doing when he called you varying nicknames.

It wasn’t like it was a secret either; pretty much everyone at the mansion had picked up on it. Hell, even the students were in on it, giggling whenever Logan tossed a pet name your way or gave you one of those half-smirks that drove everyone else insane.

Everyone except you, apparently.

You walked down the hall, completely unaware of the looks you were getting, or the fact that Logan’s eyes lingered a bit longer than they should have as you disappeared around the corner. Shaking his head, he let out a low chuckle before heading toward the garage. Maybe a ride on his bike would clear his head, though it probably wouldn’t. You had a way of sticking in his mind, even when you weren’t around.

---

Later that night, you were sprawled on the couch in one of the common rooms, sandwiched between Jean and Ororo as the three of you laughed at the antics on screen. The Princess Diaries was playing, and though you’d seen it a dozen times, it never failed to make you laugh.

You had your hair tied up and off your neck, and you were dressed in one of your usual casual outfits—leggings and an oversized hoodie that probably belonged to one of the guys in the mansion, though you couldn’t remember who. Logan’s scent faintly lingered on it, but you didn't think much of it.

You shifted comfortably, pulling your legs up to curl under you as Jean and Ororo sat on either side, each of you clutching bowls of popcorn and laughing at the antics in The Princess Diaries.

“I still don’t get how a movie about a teenager becoming a princess is this funny,” Jean said, shaking her head as she stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Like, shouldn’t it be cheesy?”

“It is cheesy,” you countered, laughing as Mia slipped and fell in the movie. “But it’s good cheesy. There’s a difference.”

Ororo chuckled, glancing at you with an amused smile. “You’ve seen this how many times now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased, tossing a piece of popcorn in her direction, which she easily swatted away with a smirk. “This is a classic.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, giving you a playful nudge. “More classic than, say, 2001: A Space Odyssey? That seems more your speed.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Not every movie I watch has to be some cerebral masterpiece, Jean.”

Ororo smiled knowingly. “Mmm, true, but you’re always spouting off facts about space or physics during random moments in these movies.”

“That’s because science is everywhere!” you replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can’t not notice when something’s wrong.”

Jean grinned. “Like that time you paused Star Wars just to give us a lecture on how light speed doesn’t work like that?”

You huffed a laugh. “Well, it doesn’t. It’s all—”

“Science, we know,” Ororo finished, sharing a look with Jean that made you roll your eyes again.

“Okay, okay,” you conceded, holding up your hands. “I’ll try not to nerd out tonight.”

“That’s all we ask,” Jean said, smirking as she leaned back on the couch, throwing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth.

For the next hour or so, the three of you watched the movie without incident, though you had to bite your tongue more than once. A promise was a promise, after all.

When the movie ended, Ororo stretched and got up from the couch. “Alright, I’m heading to bed. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

“Same,” Jean said, standing and offering you a soft smile.

“Guess I’ll get ready for bed too, then.” You replied. Each of you headed to your rooms, Jean shared one with Scott down the hall from you, and Ororo’s room was close by theirs.

Your room was full of plants, small vines on the walls and windowsills, along with potted flowers across the room. It had been habit ever since you learned about your powers to always be surrounded by them, it gave you a sense of peace.

Taking off your clothes you got into the shower, where more plants were, including a rhaphidophora tetrasperma and a maidenhair fern.

You smiled to yourself, relishing the small oasis you’d created in your bathroom. The plants thrived in here, the humidity of your showers mimicking their natural habitat. It was a simple pleasure to see something flourish under your care, which was probably why you always surrounded yourself with greenery.

You rinsed off, the water now lukewarm as it cascaded over you, and turned the shower off. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you stepped out, the cool air hitting your skin as you moved toward the mirror. You wiped a hand across the fogged glass, revealing your reflection. You took off your shower cap, letting your hair free from its constraints.

There was a faint knock at your door, and you glanced toward it, frowning. Who would be knocking at this hour?

“Y/N?” Logan’s voice came from the other side. “You still awake?”

Your eyes widened slightly. What was Logan doing here? You quickly pulled on some comfortable clothes—an oversized t-shirt and shorts—before cracking the door open to find Logan leaning against the frame, his usual smirk in place.

“Logan? It’s kind of late. What’s up?” you asked, holding the door open just enough for him to see you but not enough to fully invite him in.

He shrugged, his eyes briefly scanning you before locking on yours. “Came by to see if you wanted to take a walk. Figured you might still be awake.”

You blinked, taken aback. “A walk? Now?”

“Yeah,” he replied casually, as if asking you to go for a walk at nearly midnight was the most normal thing in the world. “You’re always sayin’ how you like the way the plants look at night. Thought maybe you’d want some fresh air.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering his offer. You had planned on heading to bed soon, but you couldn’t deny the appeal of a nighttime walk—especially with Logan. The mansion grounds were peaceful at this hour, and the idea of walking among the moonlit flowers sounded tempting.

“Alright,” you said, pushing the door open the rest of the way. “Let me put on some shoes.”

Logan nodded, leaning back against the doorframe as he waited, his arms crossing over his chest. You slipped on a pair of sneakers, quickly tying the laces.

“Ready,” you said, adjusting your shirt and stepping out into the hallway.

Logan pushed off the frame and started walking beside you, his steps easy and casual. The mansion was quiet, most of the students already asleep, and you could hear the soft hum of night settling in as you both made your way outside. The cool air greeted you as you stepped into the garden, and you couldn’t help but smile as the scent of flowers and earth filled your senses.

“So,” Logan said after a moment, his hands sliding into his jacket pockets, “how was the movie?”

You smiled, glancing at him. “It was good. A classic, really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Jean and Ororo didn’t give you a hard time?”

You chuckled. “Well, they did try to poke fun at my love for science, but nothing too bad. It was all in good fun.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah, they like to tease. Just means they’re comfortable around ya.”

You gave a small nod, your gaze shifting to the moonlit flowers around you. You loved the way the plants seemed to glow in the night, the way everything felt so peaceful at this hour. It was one of the reasons you often came out here at night when the mansion was quiet and still.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the soft sounds of nature surrounding you. Logan didn’t say much, but that was one of the things you liked about him—he didn’t need to fill the air with pointless conversation. He was just… there, steady and solid, like the trees you so loved to be around.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, taking in his relaxed posture, the way his jacket hung off his broad shoulders, and the ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. You wondered briefly what he thought of these walks. He always seemed to show up at the right moments, offering his company when you needed it most, even if you didn’t realize you needed it at the time.

“So, Logan,” you started, your voice casual as you glanced at a cluster of moonlit lilies, “what’s the real reason you wanted to walk tonight? I know you didn’t just suddenly decide to take in the scenery.”

He chuckled, low and deep, as he shifted his gaze to the path ahead. “Maybe I like the scenery more than I let on.”

“Right,” you teased, arching an eyebrow. “Because I’ve definitely seen you out here admiring the roses before.”

“Who says I’m talkin’ about the roses, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile played at your lips. “Uh-huh. Keep dreaming, Logan.”

There was that playful glint in his eyes again, the one you’d grown used to but never quite understood. He always had this way of teasing you—soft, subtle comments that seemed to amuse him more than anything else. It wasn’t like you minded, though. You liked the banter, even if you never quite knew why he seemed to engage in it with you so much.

You gave him a sidelong glance, but Logan’s expression remained as it usually did—a little cocky, a little mysterious, his hands resting casually in his jacket pockets as he walked alongside you. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the path, and you found your gaze drifting back to the flowers blooming in the gardens. The peace of the night wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and for a moment, you almost forgot Logan was there.

“Y’know,” Logan said after a stretch of silence, his voice low and lazy, “you really are a mystery, sweetheart.”

You blinked, turning to him with a slight frown. “What do you mean by that?”

Logan shrugged, his eyes briefly flicking to yours before looking ahead again. “You’re this genius, right? Got two PhDs, can out-think just about anyone in the room. But sometimes… you’re completely clueless.”

You scoffed, giving him an incredulous look. “Clueless? Me? I don’t think that’s possible.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that teasing smile. “Yeah, darlin’. Clueless. You know a hell of a lot about a lot of things, but when it comes to readin’ people? Not so much.”

Your frown deepened. “I think I read people just fine, Logan.”

He stopped walking then, turning to face you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Oh, do ya?”

“Yeah,” you insisted, crossing your arms over your chest. “I spend a lot of time around people. I know how to pick up on things.”

Logan’s smile widened, like he was holding back laughter. “Is that so?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. “Yes, that’s so. What are you getting at?”

Logan’s grin widened as he saw you narrow your eyes, your arms crossed in clear frustration. There was something about how easily he could rile you up, how your normally sharp mind would stumble whenever he teased you, that made him enjoy these moments even more.

“You’re dodging the question,” you pressed, sensing that his silence was deliberate. “What are you getting at?”

Logan shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the nearest tree, his usual smirk in place. “I’m just sayin’, for someone who’s supposed to be a genius, you don’t always see what’s right in front of you.”

You let out a huff, clearly not satisfied with his answer. “I see everything just fine, Logan. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“Subtle, huh?” Logan echoed, his grin softening into a more thoughtful expression. “Maybe I’m not. Or maybe you’re just a little too focused on the wrong things.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but as usual, Logan didn’t offer anything more. He simply stood there, his eyes watching you carefully, as if enjoying the little mystery he’d planted in your mind. You could practically see the amusement dancing behind his gaze.

“This is just another one of your games, isn’t it?” you muttered, though there was no real bite in your tone. “You like keeping me guessing.”

“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “Keeps things interestin’, don’t ya think?”

You rolled your eyes again, turning away from him as you started walking down the path. You weren’t going to let him keep you on edge like this. You had better things to think about than whatever half-assed answer Logan was playing at tonight.

Logan fell into step beside you, his hands tucked back into his pockets. The two of you walked in silence for a bit longer, and despite the earlier tension, you found yourself relaxing once more. The garden was quiet, the night cool and calm. Logan’s presence, as always, was steady beside you, even if he did like to mess with your head sometimes.

“You know,” you began after a while, your voice softer now, “just because I’m a genius doesn’t mean I’m completely oblivious to people. I do pick up on things.”

Logan shot you a sideways glance, that infuriating smirk back on his face. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious!” you insisted, though a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “I just… maybe I’m not as concerned with people’s motives as much as I am with facts and data. It’s different.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s part of the problem, doll. You think you can figure out everything like it’s a puzzle. But people? We’re a little more complicated than that.”

You tilted your head, thinking about that. “I don’t see why it has to be complicated. People say what they mean, don’t they?”

Logan paused for a moment, his smirk turning into something more thoughtful. “Not always.”

There was a heaviness in his voice that made you glance up at him, but before you could ask what he meant, he turned his head away, eyes focused on something in the distance. The moment passed, and Logan was back to his usual self, his grin in place as if nothing had happened.

“Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “how’s your latest project goin’? Still messing with those gadgets?”

You sighed, the shift in conversation allowing you to relax again. “Yeah, still working on a few prototypes. Hank’s been helping me out with some of the materials, but we’re having trouble stabilizing the energy output.”

Logan nodded, listening with genuine interest. “Sounds like somethin’ you’ll figure out soon enough.”

“I hope so,” you said with a small smile. “But it’s been a little frustrating.”

“Not used to runnin’ into roadblocks, huh?” Logan teased.

“Not really,” you admitted, a touch of sheepishness in your tone. “I’m used to things coming together quickly once I have all the information. This one’s been… tricky.”

Logan gave a low hum of understanding. “That’s the thing about science, sweetheart. It ain’t always predictable.”

“Yeah, but I like predictability,” you said with a shrug. “It makes sense. People, on the other hand…”

Logan laughed at that, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

The two of you continued your walk, the conversation drifting to lighter topics—projects, students at the mansion, the occasional prank pulled by one of the younger mutants. You liked how easy it was to talk to Logan, even when he teased you or left you hanging on a thought. He was always there, listening, offering his dry commentary when it was needed.

As you walked, you found yourself glancing at him every now and then, taking in the way the moonlight caught his features, the rough stubble on his jaw, the confident way he carried himself. You didn’t understand why he spent so much time around you, especially when he had no trouble being alone or doing his own thing. Logan didn’t seem like the type to go out of his way for someone, and yet… here he was.

“Logan?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah?” he replied, his gaze shifting to you.

“Why do you do this?”

He frowned, genuinely confused. “Do what?”

“Walk with me. Spend time with me. You’re not exactly the most sociable guy around here.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Maybe I like your company, sweetheart. Ever think of that?”

You blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be so direct about… feelings. You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply looked away, feeling a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“I guess I never really thought about it,” you admitted after a moment.

Logan’s smirk returned, but there was something softer behind it this time. “That’s ‘cause you’re too busy thinkin’ about everythin’ else, doll.”

You didn’t respond right away, still processing his words. Logan wasn’t one to lay things out so plainly, but when he did, it always seemed to catch you off guard. He had this way of making you question things—yourself, your understanding of the world—without ever really giving you any answers. It was frustrating, but at the same time, it was… endearing.

As the two of you walked back toward the mansion, the quiet settling over you once more, you couldn’t help but wonder what Logan had meant earlier. About you being ‘clueless.’ It wasn’t like you didn’t notice things—sure, people had their layers, but you weren’t blind to them. So what was he talking about?

---

The next morning, you were back in your usual routine—teaching classes, working in the greenhouse, and helping the students with their studies. It was a busy day, but you didn’t mind. The students were eager to learn, and you found a sense of satisfaction in watching them grow and develop their skills.

After your last class, you made your way to the greenhouse, your favorite part of the day. The students had already watered the plants earlier, so you spent some time pruning and checking on the growth of the flowers and vegetables.

The sound of footsteps approaching caught your attention, and you turned to see Logan leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, glancing up from the plant you were tending to.

Logan shrugged. “Figured I’d stop by. See how you’re doin’.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “You checking up on me again?”

He chuckled. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on ya, sweetheart.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you turned back to your plants. “I’m fine, Logan. Really.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice closer now. You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing just a few feet away, watching you with that same unreadable expression he always seemed to have around you. “But it doesn’t hurt to check in every now and then.”

Logan looked over at a large strawberry plant in the corner, it seemed to have a lot of yield, bright red strawberries hanging from the branches.

“You ever try a strawberry with no pesticides?” You asked, standing up from the ground and taking off your gloves. You looked around the plant before pulling what you thought looked to be the best of the bunch, holding it out for him. Since it was August, the strawberries were soon going to go out of season, so this was the last good batch you were going to get.

Logan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he eyed the fruit in your hand. "I’ve had my share of wild strawberries, sweetheart, but never from your garden.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him with the strawberry still outstretched. “Wild strawberries? Really, Logan? This is organic, homegrown perfection. Totally different experience.”

He chuckled, finally taking the strawberry from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief second. It was so brief you didn’t think much of it, but Logan’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he popped the strawberry into his mouth.

“Well?” you asked, watching him expectantly. “What do you think?”

Logan chewed slowly, his eyes not leaving yours. “Sweet,” he finally said, his voice low. “Real sweet.”

You smiled, pleased with his answer, though you didn’t quite catch the way his gaze lingered on you as he said it. “Told you,” you said, turning back to the plant to grab a strawberry for yourself. “Fresh strawberries are unbeatable.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you take a bite. “You take real pride in this, don’t ya?”

“Of course,” you said, glancing at him between bites. “There’s something rewarding about growing things. Watching them thrive under the right conditions. It’s like… I don’t know, creating life.”

Logan’s eyes softened as he listened to you talk, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “You care a lot about the little det- ” He was cut off by surprise, your thumb brushing the corner of his lips wiping off some of the strawberry juice.

You seemed to not think much about it, nor did you notice Logan’s heart sped up with your simple touch. It was over quick, you let out a soft gasp and walked behind him, looking up at a vine at the top where you saw a few ripe kiwis.

You reached your palm out, focusing your energy on the vines at the top of the greenhouse. They shifted gently, as if responding to your silent command, dropping three ripe kiwis into your hand. You grinned, knowing Jean would appreciate the fresh fruit later. It wasn’t easy growing kiwis in New York, but your powers made up for the climate’s shortcomings. Nature seemed to bend to your will, a fact you took quiet pride in, even though you’d never flaunt it.

Meanwhile, Logan was still in slight shock from your gesture, he could almost feel the spot where your thumb brushed against him, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And you did it without thinking, in fact, you still didn’t seem to notice him looking at your back as you picked a few bunches of basil.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t just the way you talked about plants or how your hands moved with skill and grace—it was you, completely unaware of how you affected him. Completely unaware that his heart rate had spiked at the smallest, most innocent touch.

“Something wrong?” you asked, not even turning around as you picked at the herbs.

Logan blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Nah, just... thinkin’. You’re somethin’, you know that?”

You gave a short laugh, pausing to glance back at him over your shoulder. “If that’s your way of saying I’m a genius again, I already know.”

He chuckled, moving to stand a bit closer. “That’s not exactly what I meant, sweetheart.” His voice was low, with that familiar gravelly tone he used when teasing you.

But as usual, the hint flew right past you. “Well, whatever it is, I’ll take it as a compliment.” You plucked another handful of basil leaves, slipping them into a small basket on the bench. “And you should try to be more specific next time, Logan. It helps with communication.”

“Specific, huh?” Logan leaned a little against the workbench beside you, arms crossed. “Alright then, you’re smart, sure. But there’s more to it than that. You... you just do things without even thinking about it. Like earlier.” His eyes flickered briefly to your hand.

You frowned a little, confused. “Earlier? You mean the strawberry thing? Or when I wiped the juice off your face?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “That.”

You blinked, not understanding why he was making such a big deal of it. “Logan, it was just strawberry juice. You looked like you were about to walk into a meeting with half a fruit smeared on your face.”

Logan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, doll. I get that.” He watched as you turned back to your plants, completely oblivious to the fact that what had been a small, thoughtless gesture for you had stirred something deeper for him. He found it both amusing and frustrating—not in an annoying way, but in a way that made him want to get closer to you, to push the boundaries just a little more.

“So,” you said, shifting the subject as you snipped a bit more basil. “What’s got you wandering into the greenhouse today? It’s not exactly your usual haunt.”

Logan leaned back, watching you with those intense eyes of his. “Just felt like stoppin’ by. Spend some time with you. Ain’t that a good enough reason?”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile was genuine. “I suppose. It’s just... you don’t usually care about plants and stuff.”

“Well, maybe I’m changin’,” Logan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” You paused, glancing at him as you picked up a watering can. “So... you wanna help?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Me? Helpin’ with your garden?”

“Why not?” you asked, stepping closer to him. “You’ve got hands, don’t you? It’s not all that complicated.”

He chuckled, reaching out to take the watering can from you, brushing his fingers against yours for a second time. “Alright, sweetheart, show me how it’s done.”

You handed him the can and pointed to a row of lavender plants nearby. “Just give them a little water. Not too much though—they don’t like it when their roots get too wet.”

Logan followed your instructions with a kind of amused curiosity, watching as the water trickled from the can onto the plants. It wasn’t the kind of thing he normally found himself doing, but there was something about the simplicity of it, something about you, that made it... well, not so bad.

“You really know your stuff, don’t ya?” Logan remarked after a few moments, his voice carrying a hint of admiration.

“Well, yeah,” you said, turning to grab some tools from a nearby shelf. “I’ve been doing this for a while. Plus, it’s kind of in my wheelhouse, you know? With the whole ‘controlling nature’ thing.”

Logan smirked, setting the watering can down as he leaned against the bench again. “Yeah, I’ve seen you do some pretty wild things with those powers of yours. But you don’t talk about ‘em much.”

“I talk to them.” You said, hiding a grin from growing on your face.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

You laughed as you stood up, throwing a few weeds in a separate basket. “No. I was joking!”

Logan let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head at you. “You got me there, sweetheart,” he said, still leaning against the bench, watching you with that ever-present smirk on his face.

You grabbed a nearby hose, turning the water on low to rinse your hands. "Can't believe you thought I was serious. I mean, I get along with plants, but I don’t have full-on conversations with them. That’d be weird."

"Wouldn't surprise me with you, doll," Logan replied, still watching you intently. "You seem to know what everything around here needs, even without talkin' to 'em."

You shrugged, drying your hands on a towel. "It’s just intuition, I guess. Plants give off signals if you know how to read them."

Logan gave you a long look, his smirk softening into something almost affectionate, though you didn’t notice. "You sure it's just the plants you read that well?"

You looked up at him, confused for a second, but quickly shook your head, dismissing his comment. "Are you gonna keep talking, or are you actually going to help me?”

Logan pushed himself off the bench, standing up straight. "Alright, alright. Where do you want me, doll?"

You handed him the basket full of weeds, “throw them out.”

He raised an eyebrow, “that’s it?”

You handed Logan the basket of weeds, his hand brushing against yours for the third time today. He smirked slightly, but you, as usual, were completely unaware of the subtle tension.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in response to his earlier question, balancing two baskets filled with freshly picked fruits, vegetables, and herbs in your arms. “I’m gonna lock up and bring these inside.”

Logan didn’t move for a second, watching as you turned your back and headed toward the door, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the greenhouse. For someone so sharp, so brilliant, you seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he enjoyed these little moments with you.

That small, unspoken connection you two had—the one where you never quite seemed to notice that he was flirting with you—had started to become his favorite part of the day. Even if it had been going on for 8 months, and yes, he was counting.

As you reached for the lock on the greenhouse door, you glanced over your shoulder. “You’re still standing there, Logan. Are you gonna help or just watch me carry all this stuff by myself?”

Logan’s smirk widened. “Oh, I was just enjoyin' the view, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, missing the deeper meaning in his words, as usual. “Right. Well, the view can help me with these baskets if it’s not too busy.”

Logan chuckled softly, walking over to you and easily taking one of the baskets from your hands. “You got it, doll. I’ll lend a hand.”

Together, you made your way toward the mansion, the quiet of the late afternoon settling around you. It was peaceful, in that way you liked—just the sound of your footsteps on the gravel path, the faint rustle of leaves in the distance, and the low hum of the cicadas in the trees. Logan had quickly thrown away the weeds and rejoined you, taking the other basket out of your hand, saying something about how he was ‘being a gentleman.’

You both entered the mansion from the back door, making your way to the kitchen where Logan placed the baskets on the island. Jean and Scott were already in there, Jean making her way over to the two baskets.

You, having an inkling for what she was looking for, reached into one of the baskets and pulled out the 3 kiwis. You handed the kiwis over to Jean, a smile playing on your lips as she quickly clutched them to her chest, almost like they were gold. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, and it always amused you. Scott, of course, tried to intervene, reaching out to snatch one, but Jean shot him a look that was part-serious, part-playful.

“Hey, those are for me,” she said, moving slightly to block Scott’s hand. “I’ve been waiting for these kiwis all week.”

Scott smirked but backed off, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, babe.”

Jean gave him a victorious smile, then turned to you. “Thanks, Y/N. You always come through with the best fruit.”

“Of course,” you replied, wiping your hands on a nearby towel. “You’ve been asking for kiwis since the season started, so I figured it was about time I delivered.”

Logan, still standing nearby, watched the interaction with a subtle smirk on his face. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking completely relaxed but attentive.

“You sure know how to make people happy, doll,” Logan said, his voice low but teasing. “Always goin’ above and beyond for everyone.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. “It’s just a few kiwis, Logan. Nothing special.”

Jean, now satisfied with her prized fruit, glanced between the two of you with a curious look, sensing something in Logan’s tone. She had noticed the way he’d been hanging around you more than usual lately, and it wasn’t hard to pick up on the little glances he threw your way when you weren’t looking. Of course, you remained blissfully unaware of it all, as always.

“You’re selling yourself short,” Jean said, throwing you a grin. “It’s not just the kiwis. You’ve practically turned the greenhouse into a mini-Eden. We all appreciate it, even if Scott can’t admit he’s jealous of my fruit.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the garden, Y/N.”

You smiled at the compliment, though it didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary to you. Taking care of the plants, helping out with the students, it was all part of your routine. You liked it that way—predictable, manageable. You didn’t dwell on the subtleties of interpersonal dynamics the way others seemed to.

Logan’s smirk widened slightly at Jean’s comment, but he kept quiet, watching you interact with the others. There was something about the way you brushed off compliments so easily, like you didn’t quite grasp how much people appreciated you around here.

You had already put a few strawberries in a glass bowl, making your way out of the kitchen to Ororo’s office without saying a word, something they were already used to.

“You sure you’re not going to say anything? You know, that’s actually straight to the point?” Jean asked Logan.

Scott reached into one of the baskets, pulling out a few blueberries, “at this point, you’re like a love-sick puppy following her around.”

Logan let out a low growl, plucking a strawberry out from the basket. “Keep talking dickhead.” He threatened.

Jean raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the counter, her sharp eyes flicking between Logan and Scott. "He’s not wrong though, Logan. You’ve been spending more time with Y/N than usual. We’ve all noticed."

Logan grunted, pushing himself off the counter and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "She’s a good kid. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on her."

Scott smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Right, keepin' an eye on her. That's what we’re calling it now?"

Jean shot Scott a playful glare, but her attention quickly shifted back to Logan. “You know, you could just tell her how you feel. She’s oblivious, but she’s not stupid. Sooner or later, she’s going to notice.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he glanced toward the door where you had just left. His emotions were complicated—he’d never been one for opening up, and the idea of confessing anything, especially something as vulnerable as his feelings for you, wasn’t exactly in his comfort zone. He had been through too much, lost too many people, and the thought of letting himself get close to someone again... well, it scared him more than he cared to admit.

“She’s got her own life,” Logan muttered, his voice gruff but softer now. “I ain’t lookin’ to mess that up.”

Jean sighed, walking over to stand next to Logan, her tone gentle but firm. “Logan, you’re not messing anything up. In fact, I think you’d be adding something important to her life. She’s not the type to see you as a burden or a distraction. She probably wouldn’t even realize you were flirting with her until you hit her over the head with it.”

Logan huffed a half-hearted laugh, but the tension in his shoulders remained. “Maybe that’s the problem. She’s too damn focused on other stuff to even see it.”

Jean smiled softly, placing a hand on Logan’s arm. “That’s what makes her so special, Logan. She’s genuine, selfless, and probably the least manipulative person in this mansion. She doesn’t play games—what you see is what you get. And she likes you, even if she doesn’t realize it in the same way you do yet.”

Scott, still lounging in his chair, added, “Plus, you know, if you wait too long, someone else might catch her eye. Just sayin’.”

Logan shot Scott a glare that could have melted steel. “Ain’t nobody else gonna catch her eye, Summers. Trust me on that.”

Jean chuckled softly, giving Logan’s arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “Well, when you’re ready, just remember—it’s okay to take a chance on her. You might be surprised by how things turn out.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, his mind already spinning with conflicting thoughts. He appreciated Jean’s support, but the fear of rejection, of losing someone else important to him, gnawed at his insides. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it again. And what if telling you how he felt ruined the easy, comfortable dynamic you two had? What if he lost the one person in the mansion who treated him like a normal man instead of a gruff, dangerous mutant?

Jean and Scott exchanged a knowing glance, but they let Logan mull over his thoughts in silence. They could push him only so far before it was up to him to take the next step.

---

You were walking down the halls with your bag in over your shoulder, all you needed to do was get to your office and take these heels off.

They looked cute online, not too tall or high, had some cushion on the soles, but wearing them was a completely different story. Which was sad because they were a cute baby pink which went well with your button up baby pink cardigan and white jeans.

But your office seemed so far away with the stabbing pain in your feet, luckily the halls were empty since most of the students were in their rooms doing homework or relaxing before dinner.

Having enough of the pain, you crouched down to unbuckle your heels, your bag moving down your shoulder to your elbow.

“Need any help, princess?”

You looked up at the sound of the voice, even though you knew exactly who it was.

Logan stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes flicked down to your shoes before meeting your gaze again, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Need any help, princess?” His voice was low and casual, but that nickname—'princess’—it was just one of the many he’d taken to using when he spoke to you. Although you hadn’t heard this one before.

You shifted your bag back up on your shoulder and continued unbuckling the second heel. “I’ve got it, thanks,” you replied, not thinking too much of his presence. You’d known Logan long enough to realize he had a habit of showing up when you least expected him to.

He made a small grunt, as if to say ‘suit yourself,’ and watched as you continued to try and unbuckle the second one, but it looked like the strap was giving you a hard time.

Logan kneeled down in front of you without a word as you moved your hands away. You were smart enough to know that you weren’t exactly in the best position to unbuckle your heels, you usually did it when you were sitting down, not crouching in the middle of a hallway.

He easily unbuckled it and helped you slip out of the heels, your feet hitting the cool floor. You mumbled a thanks as his hand trailed up your calf with a feather light touch before standing up. Your heels were in one of his hands as he easily picked you up with one arm, carrying you bridal style.

You let out a small shriek of surprise, your arms instinctively going around Logan’s neck as he scooped you up with one arm, heels dangling from his other hand.

"Hey! I can walk!" you protested, more flustered than anything else. You were completely capable of walking, sore feet or not, but now you were cradled in Logan’s arms like a princess in some old fairy tale.

Logan's smirk widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Not fast enough, sweetheart," he teased, carrying you effortlessly down the hall. His voice was deep, a hint of amusement in his tone, and it made your cheeks heat up slightly, though you quickly tried to brush it off.

You rolled your eyes, not really sure how to argue back. "I’m pretty sure this is unnecessary," you muttered, though your voice didn’t sound all that convincing even to you.

"Necessary or not, you're gonna let me carry you," he shot back, glancing down at you with a playful gleam in his eye. "Besides, I don’t mind."

You huffed in mock defiance, but you didn’t exactly push him to put you down either. In fact, being carried by Logan felt…nice. Comfortable, even. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud. And it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

As the two of you continued down the hallway, you couldn’t help but notice the way his grip was firm but gentle, his arms strong and steady. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen how built he was, but somehow, it always seemed to surprise you.

"You know, this could’ve been avoided if I’d just worn normal shoes," you grumbled, trying to distract yourself from the way your heart was beating a little too fast.

Logan chuckled softly, that gravelly sound that always seemed to resonate in your chest. "Doll, I’ve seen you rock combat boots and still look like you’re ready for a photoshoot. But those heels…" He raised an eyebrow at the pink shoes still in his hand. "Yeah, maybe not your best choice."

You frowned slightly, glancing at the heels. "They looked good online…"

He grinned, amused. "You got catfished by shoes?"

"I didn’t get catfished!" you retorted, though you couldn’t help but laugh. "They’re cute! Just not comfortable."

Logan made a noncommittal sound, clearly not convinced by your argument. But he didn’t press it further, instead shifting you slightly in his arms as he approached your office door.

"Want me to break down the door for you, too, princess? Or can you manage the key?" he asked with a teasing glint in his eyes, looking down at you like you were some helpless damsel.

"I’ve got it," you replied quickly, reaching into your bag for your keys. "And stop calling me princess." The nickname felt weird, it made your heart beat faster and you skin flush more than the other nicknames he called you.

But Logan just smirked, clearly unbothered. "Sure thing, sweetheart."

You couldn’t stop the little sigh that escaped you as you unlocked the door and pushed it open. Logan stepped inside, gently setting you down on your feet.

As soon as you were standing, you felt the cool air against your now bare feet, and it was an instant relief from the torture those heels had put you through. You moved to put your heels down by your desk, but Logan still had them in his hand.

"You know I can take those now," you said, holding out your hand expectantly.

Logan eyed the heels for a moment, then handed them over. "You really should burn 'em, doll," he said in that same teasing tone, watching you place them on the floor.

"I’m not burning them," you replied, shaking your head. "They’re not that bad. I just…need to break them in."

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe now, watching you with that amused smirk still playing on his lips. "Or you could just stick to boots."

"Maybe I like being fashionable sometimes," you shot back, raising an eyebrow at him as you plopped down into your office chair. Your fingers brushed your hair back from your face, and you let out a small, satisfied sigh now that you were sitting down.

"Fashionable, sure," Logan said, his voice a low rumble. "But at what cost?"

You shot him a look but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It was hard to stay annoyed when Logan was like this—playful, relaxed, his rough edges softened just enough to make you feel like he actually cared.

"Anyway, shouldn’t you be out doing something more...Logan-like?" you asked, leaning back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"I don't know, brooding? Scowling at someone?"

His lips twitched, clearly suppressing a smirk. "Maybe I’m just waiting for you to ask me to carry you again."

You rolled your eyes, fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks. "Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath."

He chuckled, that deep, gravelly sound filling the small office. He didn’t say anything after that, just leaned against the door, arms crossed as he watched you settle in. The silence was comfortable, but it made you hyperaware of him—of the way his presence seemed to take up more space than it should.

You busied yourself with pulling out some notes from your bag, pretending you weren’t fully aware of how Logan’s eyes followed your every movement. It was strange, but also kind of…nice? Logan wasn’t like other guys. He wasn’t intimidated by your intelligence or the fact that you could talk circles around most people in the room. In fact, he seemed to like it, even if he teased you about it sometimes.

"Alright, well, thanks for the…uh, assistance," you said, breaking the silence and giving him a small, awkward smile. "I think I’m good now."

Logan didn’t move right away. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he pushed himself off the doorframe. "Anytime, sweetheart."

And with that, he turned and walked out of your office, leaving you with your thoughts—and the faintest trace of a smirk on your face.

---

Every so often, you would have a baking day to use up some of the fruits efficiently. Some of the students would join you in the large kitchen, doing their best to help you by carefully following your instructions.

Some of them, particularly the older ones, would cut up some of the fruit, like strawberries, apples, and peaches. The others would measure the ingredients and put them in a mixing bowl before combining it all together to make a dough.

This time, you were striving to make a few blueberry pies, a large dish of peach cobbler, apple strudels, and some strawberry puff pastries.

Baking was something you enjoyed, but never really did in college. You usually were busier with labs and theses rather than cooking or baking. You practically lived off take out and dining hall food. But since you’ve been here for the past year, you’ve already held 4 sessions, including this one.

“Careful with those strawberries,” you said to a student named Ben, who was chopping up the fruit with a little too much enthusiasm. “We need them in slices, not chunks.”

“Sorry, Y/N,” he mumbled, quickly adjusting his technique.

You smiled softly and moved to check on the other group, who were working on the dough for the pies. A girl named Emily was measuring out the flour, carefully following the recipe you’d written down.

"How’s it going over here?" you asked, watching as she sifted the flour into a bowl.

“Good, I think,” Emily said, glancing up at you nervously. “Is this enough?”

You nodded. "Looks perfect. Just remember to mix it slowly so the flour doesn’t go everywhere."

Emily gave you a grateful smile before continuing her work. You loved these baking sessions. It was a great way to bond with the students and also let them explore a more creative side outside of their classes. Plus, it gave you a break from the constant intellectual challenges of your usual work.

Logan wandered into the kitchen a little while later, casually leaning against the doorframe as he watched the controlled chaos. Ororo and Jean were already in the kitchen, watching from the sidelines nursing a glass of a bubbly pink drink.

He couldn’t help but think about how pretty you looked, you were wearing a pastel purple sundress with a light green apron with vines and flowers embroidered on it.

The sight made him smirk—something about you baking in a kitchen full of teenagers, in your floral apron, amused him. It was such a stark contrast to your usual intellectual, no-nonsense attitude.

“Whatcha got cookin’, sweetheart?” Logan’s gruff voice broke the bustling sounds of mixing and chopping.

You didn’t glance up, too focused on guiding Emily through making the pie dough. "Just baking some pies and pastries. Using up the leftover fruit. Do you want some?" you asked casually, not thinking too much about the fact that Logan was watching you.

Logan shrugged, stepping further into the kitchen. “Depends. Is it any good?”

You finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. “You doubt my baking skills?”

He chuckled lowly, leaning against the counter now, close enough to see what you were working on. “Wouldn’t call it doubt, doll. Just curious.”

You gave him a small smirk, hands moving skillfully as you finished helping Emily measure the remaining ingredients. "You’ll have to wait until they’re done to find out."

One of the students, Ben, interrupted, grinning as he wiped flour off his hands. "Y/N’s baking is the best! She made these strawberry scones last time—they were gone in like ten minutes."

Logan raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing glance. "Impressive, princess. Maybe I will stick around."

You rolled your eyes at the nickname but didn’t comment. Instead, you turned back to Emily, helping her roll out the dough. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice Logan's teasing, it was just that you didn’t think much of it. Guys didn’t usually flirt with you. At least not seriously. Most found your intelligence intimidating, or they simply saw you as ‘one of the guys.’ Logan’s pet names, in your mind, were just part of his rough-and-tumble personality, nothing more.

But Logan, on the other hand, found your obliviousness endearing. The fact that you didn’t seem to realize he was flirting with you only made him try harder, though he kept it casual enough not to push you away. He liked the challenge.

“You need any help?” Logan offered, gesturing toward the fruit Ben was chopping haphazardly.

“You’re not gonna burn the kitchen down?” you teased, wiping your hands on your apron before reaching for a bowl.

“I think I can handle it,” Logan said, a grin tugging at his lips.

You handed him a knife, showing him how to properly slice the strawberries. “Here, like this. We need them thin for the pastries.”

You held out the knife for him, and instead of coming up beside you like you assumed he would, he stood behind you, his chest against your back, practically caging you in between him and the counter.

He could hear your heart beat faster as he cut a few slices of the strawberry, asking, "That good enough for you, sweetheart?"

His voice was low, and you could feel his breath near your ear, but you were too focused on the task at hand to fully process the closeness. You glanced at the thinly sliced strawberries, nodding absentmindedly.

"Yeah, that’s perfect," you mumbled, moving slightly away to give yourself more room to breathe, though you didn’t realize why. "Just need a few more for the pastries."

Logan continued slicing, his movements precise, though his presence remained solid and grounding behind you. You were used to people standing close when you worked in the lab or in class—tight spaces, shared equipment, it came with the territory. But this was different. Logan’s proximity felt… intense in a way you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

"So, how long you been doin' this?" Logan asked casually, his voice breaking through your thoughts as he finished up with the strawberries.

You blinked, taking a second to register the question. "Baking? Oh, I don’t know… when I was a kid? I just started because it’s a nice break from… everything I guess.”

Jean and Ororo continued to drink their glass of champagne when Scott walked in, placing an arm around Jean’s waist as they watched the scene. “Think she’ll finally realize,” he asked.

Ororo gave a small grin and shrugged, “who knows? But Logan’s certainly getting bolder.”

Jean shook her head, “I told him to talk to her and say exactly what he was feeling, but turns out he still hasn’t taken my advice.”

Ororo chuckled as she took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze flicking back to the kitchen scene unfolding in front of them. "Well, you know Logan. Subtlety isn’t exactly his strong suit."

Scott smirked as he stood next to Jean, his arm still comfortably draped around her waist. "Yeah, but subtlety doesn’t seem to be the problem here," he said, eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Logan hover around you. "He’s not exactly hiding it."

Ororo tilted her head, amused by how oblivious you remained despite Logan’s efforts. It wasn’t that you were unobservant; you were incredibly sharp—when it came to science, mechanics, and even battle tactics. But personal matters? Especially the ones involving yourself? Not so much.

"Poor girl," Ororo mused, shaking her head. "She’s a genius, but this…" She waved a hand in Logan’s direction. "This seems to be one thing she’s totally clueless about."

Jean smiled sympathetically. "She’s not used to people flirting with her. I mean, guys either get intimidated by her brain, or they just see her as a fellow intellectual, not… you know, a woman."

Ororo raised an eyebrow, her expression thoughtful. "Well, Logan clearly sees her as a woman. He’s made that much obvious. But I wonder how long it’ll take for her to figure it out."

Jean laughed softly. "At this rate? It might take a while."

The three of them watched with growing curiosity as Logan stood there, his broad shoulders and rough demeanor somehow fitting perfectly in the domestic scene of baking pastries with students. You, on the other hand, were entirely focused on getting the strawberry puff pastries just right, completely unaware of how closely Logan was watching you—or how he lingered longer than necessary when he handed you the knife, or how his teasing nicknames held a deeper meaning.

"She’s too smart for her own good," Scott added, shaking his head with a chuckle. "But when it comes to this, she's got blind spots."

Jean nodded in agreement. "Y/N is convinced she knows everything—and to be fair, she does know a lot—but she’s missing the whole picture here."

---

After Logan’s stunt on baking day, he wondered just how much further he could go. Sure, he could take Jean’s advice and outright tell you, but he also liked seeing you riled up and confused by his words and actions.

Like a few days ago, all he did was pull out your chair at dinner with the rest of the group and you just stood there, confused by the gesture. It took a few moments for you to understand and finally sit down before he pushed the chair closer to the table for you.

Or now, they were having a briefing, or meeting, about God knows what, most of everybody seated. You and Ororo were the last people to come in, aside from Charles. Ororo went to sit down at an open seat and as you looked around you came to the conclusion that there weren’t any other chairs available.

You were content with the fact that you were going to stand for the short meeting, as you found a spot to stand at the opposite end of the large round table, close to Logan.

“C’mere doll.” Logan said, lazily gesturing for you to come closer.

You hesitantly did, stopping next to his chair, your knee brushing his thigh. “What?”

He patted his thigh, “I don’t bite.”

Your eyes widened, a cute, innocent expression that he enjoyed seeing on your face, as you looked around the room. “I, uh- ”

Logan’s smirk widened, clearly finding your hesitation endearing. He patted his lap again, his eyes glinting with a teasing light. “C’mon, doll. Don’t be shy. There’s a perfectly good seat right here.”

You hesitated, your brain racing to process the situation. It wasn’t exactly appropriate for a professional setting, but you were running out of options. The only other seats were either taken or a bit too far from the discussion table. With a small sigh, you decided to give in. You didn’t want to stand for the entire meeting, and it was just one of those moments where you had to roll with it.

“Alright,” you said. You shot a glance around the room, but most people were already absorbed in their conversations or taking notes. You gingerly sat down on the edge of his lap, trying to maintain a sense of propriety despite the awkwardness of the situation.

Logan’s arm naturally wrapped around your waist to stabilize you, but he didn’t say anything as you settled. You could feel his warmth radiating through his leather jacket, and it was strangely comforting despite the unusual circumstances. He leaned in slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “You alright there, sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to focus on the meeting but acutely aware of how close he was. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, though you could feel your cheeks warming slightly. “Just trying to get comfortable.”

Logan chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through his chest and making you shift just a bit closer. His hand rested lightly on your hip, not too firm but enough to make you acutely aware of his presence. You tried to ignore it and concentrate on the meeting, but his proximity made that task rather difficult.

The meeting continued, with Charles and the others discussing various topics related to ongoing projects and missions. Logan’s hand on your hip was a constant reminder of his presence, but he remained quiet, only chiming in occasionally with his usual gruff comments or suggestions.

---

At breakfast one day, you were sitting with Hank talking about the project you two were working on that was finally getting somewhere. You had finally been able to stabilize the energy output and now you two were talking about what to do next.

Logan sipped his coffee, looking at your from afar. As always, you were dressed cute today. You were wearing a light blue sweater with a pair of your skinny jeans and white flats, paired with matching drop earrings.

Ororo and Jean came up beside him, the former tsking. Ororo gave Logan a knowing look, crossing her arms. "You still at it, huh?" she teased, nodding in your direction.

Logan grunted but didn't respond immediately, sipping his coffee as he watched you and Hank animatedly discuss your project. You were explaining something with such enthusiasm, using your hands to gesture wildly, that it made him smirk. The light blue sweater you wore today only added to the adorable vibe you unknowingly radiated.

Jean nudged him lightly. "Nine months, Logan. Nine months of flirting, and she’s still completely oblivious." She shook her head, amused.

"She’s a genius, remember?" Ororo said, raising an eyebrow. "She’s supposed to know everything."

Logan snorted, finally setting his coffee down. "Well, she clearly doesn’t know this. And I’m in no rush to tell her." He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His eyes didn’t leave you, even as the conversation between Hank and you grew more intense.

Jean chuckled. "It's kinda cute, though. Watching her get all flustered whenever you call her those names, like she’s completely missing the point."

"I know," Logan muttered with a grin. "She gets that little furrow in her brow, like she’s trying to figure it out, but then brushes it off. She’s too wrapped up in all her fancy projects and theories."

Ororo shook her head in disbelief. "You’ve got the patience of a saint. Most people would’ve given up by now."

Logan shrugged, glancing at Ororo. "Ain’t in any hurry. She’s worth the wait."

Jean smiled softly at that, then sighed. "Well, good luck. Maybe one day she’ll actually catch on."

As if on cue, you let out a triumphant laugh from across the room, and Logan’s attention immediately shifted back to you. You had a bright smile on your face, clearly excited about whatever breakthrough you and Hank had just made.

"You’re like a moth to a flame," Ororo muttered under her breath with a smirk, walking off with Jean to sit down.

Logan ignored her, his eyes still locked on you as you gathered up some papers and started to walk toward the exit. As you passed him, he casually stuck his leg out just enough that you had to stop short to avoid tripping.

“Logan!” you exclaimed, looking down at his leg and then up at him with confusion.

He raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of his coffee. "Mornin', sweetheart."

You blinked at him, clearly thrown off for a moment. "Uh, morning." You shifted the stack of papers in your arms. "Why’d you—"

"Just wanted to say good job," he interrupted, nodding toward the papers in your hand. "Whatever you and Hank were talkin’ about over there seemed pretty important."

Your face lit up at the mention of your project, and you immediately launched into an explanation, completely forgetting about Logan's odd behavior. "Oh, yeah! We finally stabilized the energy output! It’s been driving us crazy for weeks, but we think we’ve figured out how to—"

Logan barely paid attention to the technical jargon that followed, more focused on the way your eyes sparkled as you talked, your excitement contagious. He gave a few gruff nods, pretending to follow along, but it was the way you lit up when you were passionate about something that kept him hooked.

"You’re incredible, you know that?" he said once you finished, his voice low and serious.

You blinked, taken aback. "Uh, what?"

"I said you’re incredible." He repeated, his gaze locking onto yours. "Smart, talented, and cute as a button. Gotta give credit where it’s due."

Your cheeks flushed pink, and you quickly looked down at the papers in your arms. "Oh, um, thanks, Logan," you mumbled, completely missing the deeper implication of his words, as usual. "I... I should probably get these to the lab. We need to review them before the next phase."

"Of course," Logan said, his smirk widening as he watched you stumble over your words. "But don’t forget to take a break, doll. All work and no play ain’t good for anyone."

"Right," you said, nodding as you hurried off, your mind already shifting back to your project, completely oblivious to the playful grin on Logan's face.

---

“You’ve never even been clubbing!?” Ororo exclaimed, holding up a finger to stop you from saying anything. “And you know I’m not talking about something like a ‘gardening club’.”

“And you have?” You asked, sitting on your bed as Jean looked through your closet.

Ororo laughed, shaking her head at your naivety. “Oh, Y/N, honey, I’ve been out dancing plenty of times. Clubbing is one of those things you just have to experience.”

Jean, still rummaging through your closet, chimed in, "She’s right, Y/N. It's fun to get out of the lab once in a while and let loose. You spend so much time buried in your work. You deserve a break."

You sighed, sinking back onto the bed. "I don’t know… It just seems like a waste of time. We could watch a movie, drink some wine, and call it a night."

Ororo leaned against your dresser, crossing her arms. "You can’t hide behind your projects forever, Flora. You need to socialize, let your hair down." She smirked, looking at you pointedly. "You never know, maybe someone will finally catch your eye."

You furrowed your brow, unconvinced. "Like who?"

Jean shared a knowing look with Ororo before turning to face you, holding up a dress you’d forgotten you owned. “Who knows? There could be someone at the club. Or maybe someone you’ve been completely blind to.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow and added, "Someone who’s been giving you attention for months, perhaps."

Your eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Jean grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she held up the dress in front of you. "Nothing, just an observation. Now, come on, put this on. Let’s see how it looks."

You sighed, getting off the bed and taking the dress from Jean’s hands. "I still don’t get what the big deal is. I’m perfectly fine without this whole clubbing thing."

Ororo smirked, stepping toward the door. “Trust us. You’ll thank us later.”

---

A few hours later, you found yourself standing outside one of the busiest clubs in the city, feeling slightly out of place in the dress Jean had picked out for you. The music thumped from inside the building, the bass reverberating through the sidewalk as people lined up to get in. You stood between Jean and Ororo, who both looked far more comfortable in their outfits than you felt in yours.

"I can’t believe you guys convinced me to come," you muttered under your breath, shifting on your feet as you glanced at the line of people ahead.

Jean grinned, looping her arm through yours. "You’re going to have fun. Trust me. It’s a nice change of pace."

Ororo nodded in agreement. "Plus, you deserve a night out. You’ve been working hard."

As you were about to respond, the doors of the club swung open, and you were hit with a blast of cool air mixed with the sound of thumping music. The bouncer waved the three of you in without a second glance, and before you knew it, you were inside, the lights flashing and the crowd buzzing with energy.

You followed Jean and Ororo through the throngs of people, weaving through the packed dance floor until you reached the bar. The atmosphere was unlike anything you were used to—loud, chaotic, and a little overwhelming. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet.

Ororo leaned against the bar, ordering drinks while Jean turned to you with a grin. "What do you think so far?"

You shrugged, glancing around. "It’s... different."

"Just give it a chance," Jean said, patting your arm. "Once you get a drink in you and loosen up a bit, you’ll feel better."

The bartender handed Ororo three drinks, and she passed one to you with a wink. "To new experiences, Flora."

You hesitated for a moment before raising your glass. "To new experiences, I guess."

The three of you clinked glasses, and you took a sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol start to settle in. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

An expensive Uber trip later and you three were back at the mansion at 4 in the morning. Luckily it was Friday, or Saturday now, so there was no need to worry about being hungover for classes.

You don’t think you’ve ever drank that much alcohol, but to be fair, you must have a really low tolerance since you never partied in college, other than the occasional glass of wine.

So, drinking around 5 or 6 fruity cocktails surely made you see things differently. Maybe just a tad bit too blurry and clumsy.

You fumbled with your keys at the mansion door, Jean giggling behind you. “Here, let me help,” she offered, her hands steadier than yours as she took the keys and unlocked the door with ease.

“I’m fine, Jean!” you protested with a laugh, swaying slightly as you stepped inside. You weren’t used to feeling so... unbalanced. Everything seemed lighter, funnier, and a little more ridiculous after the alcohol. You were starting to understand why people did this more often.

Ororo walked in behind you, shaking her head but smiling. “Maybe next time we won’t let you have quite so many drinks,” she teased, gently guiding you toward the living room. “You’re gonna feel this tomorrow.”

“I’m a genius,” you declared, holding your head high in mock dignity, “I’ll be fine.”

Jean snorted, flopping onto the couch. “Oh yeah? Even geniuses can’t outsmart a hangover.”

You waved her off, settling into a chair, only to realize it was far too squishy, causing you to slide right down onto the floor. You stared at it for a second, then burst out laughing. “Who put a trap here?”

Ororo and Jean were in hysterics now, and even though your head was spinning, you couldn’t help but join in.

“You know,” Ororo started between giggles, “for someone who knows everything, you sure don’t know how to handle a drink.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, or at least tried to. “It’s... an anomaly. Unpredictable variables.”

“Right,” Jean said, leaning back with a grin, “just like Logan’s flirting.”

You blinked, the name snapping you out of your drunken haze for a second. “Logan’s what?”

Ororo and Jean exchanged glances before looking back at you, their smiles widening.

“His flirting,” Jean repeated slowly, as if explaining a simple concept.

You squinted, feeling like your brain was moving through molasses. “Flirting? Logan? With me?”

Ororo rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, Y/N. For months. You seriously haven’t noticed?”

You stared at them both, utterly lost. “Flirting? Logan? Are you guys drunk too?”

Jean sighed dramatically, standing up. “I think you’re too far gone to process this tonight.”

You shook your head, still trying to wrap your mind around what they were saying. Logan? Flirting? With you? It didn’t make any sense. Logan was... well, Logan.

Ororo pulled you up from the floor, patting your arm. “Let’s get you to bed. You can overthink this tomorrow.”

---

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach that felt like it was doing somersaults. Groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed, making a mental note to never drink that much again.

As you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to find coffee and maybe something greasy to settle your stomach, you tried to remember the details from last night. Jean and Ororo had said something about Logan... flirting with you?

You shook your head. That couldn’t be right. Logan wasn’t the type to flirt. He was gruff, tough, and mostly kept to himself. Sure, he called you pet names, but that didn’t mean anything. Right?

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you sat at the kitchen island, still groggy. You were about to take a sip when you heard the familiar sound of boots approaching.

“Mornin’, doll,” Logan greeted as he walked in, his voice a low rumble.

You looked up at him, your brain still foggy, and for some reason, the word ‘flirting’ popped into your mind again. You stared at him for a moment longer than necessary, your head tilting slightly.

“Uh... morning,” you replied, your voice a little more unsure than usual. You couldn’t stop replaying what Jean and Ororo had said last night. Was this flirting? You eyed Logan, trying to decipher his expression.

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, taking a sip of your coffee. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Logan chuckled, that deep, rough sound that always sent a weird shiver down your spine. “Guess you didn’t take my advice about not overdoing it, huh?”

You blinked. “What advice?”

“Last night,” he said, smirking, “told ya not to have too many drinks, sweetheart.”

Your brow furrowed. “Wait, you were there?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, clearly amused. “Passed by when you three were heading out. You looked excited about... whatever the hell it is you get excited about.”

You frowned, trying to remember him saying that. It was all so hazy. Then you shook your head, deciding to just drop it. “Well, I’ll survive.”

Logan gave you a lazy grin. “Tough as nails, aren’t ya?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I guess so.”

There was a moment of silence before Logan pushed off the counter and moved closer. He reached out and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your cheek for just a second too long. “Good thing. Wouldn’t want ya to break, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. This was... different. You felt your face heat up, and you quickly turned your attention back to your coffee. “Uh... right.”

Logan’s smirk didn’t fade as he stepped back. “See ya around, darlin’.”

You watched him leave the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. What was that? Was that what Jean and Ororo had been talking about? Or was it just him being old-fashioned, after all he was over 200 years old, and you were a mere 25. He was the Wolverine, and you were just a young teacher that happened to be an X-Men.

---

It had been a week since you had gone out clubbing with Jean and Ororo and you were too far gone in your own mind. You started observing things more carefully, the way Logan would rest his hand on your lower back when he was walking you to your next class, how he occasionally brought you snacks when you were in the lab, telling Hank that they were only for you, and finally, how he really only called you nicknames.

Ever since that realization, you tried to keep it hidden, to process it on your own. After all, guys didn’t like you. You weren’t exactly the kind of girl they wanted.

Logan noticed how you got more nervous around him, your heart beating faster, how you seemed to stumble over your words more often than not around him. At one point, he asked Jean about it, to which she revealed her and Ororo did what he couldn’t.

He ended up outside of your office, hearing you talk to one of the senior students about which colleges were the best for his major. You assured him that just because it was September, doesn’t mean he’s too late to apply.

Logan knocked on the door as you said that the door was unlocked. He hadn’t seen your outfit today, a white pencil skirt paired with a skintight, long sleeve peach colored shirt. Your hip was leaning against the front of the desk next to where the student was sitting.

Kean looked between the two of you, before quickly gathering his things and the brochures you gave him for various colleges.

"Remember to look into some engineering programs! I’d think they’d be great for you!" You called out after Kean, watching as the student hurried out of your office. The door clicked shut behind him, and you sighed, thinking of the next round of paperwork waiting on your desk. You were about to walk around your desk to sit down when you noticed Logan still standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes focused on you in that intense way he often did.

"Sweetheart, got a minute?" Logan's voice was rough, familiar, and held that signature casualness that made it feel like he wasn't really asking.

You blinked, startled for a second before nodding. "Uh, yeah. Sure, Logan. What's up?"

Logan stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning you briefly. "You looked pretty wrapped up in your work. Thought you could use a break."

Your mind raced, suddenly self-conscious. "Yeah, I’ve been helping some of the seniors with their college stuff," you explained, motioning to the brochures still scattered across your desk. "It's that time of year where they start panicking about applications."

Logan smirked, his arms crossing over his chest. "You always keep yourself busy, don’t ya, doll?"

You rolled your lower lip while humming as your answer. You crossed your arms, watching as Logan came closer to you, standing almost toe to toe with your pointy short peach colored heels.

“You finally figured it out then, didn’t ya?” He asked.

“I- well, uh…” you stammered, suddenly feeling heat rush to your face. Why was Logan looking at you like that? And what did he mean by ‘you finally figured it out’? Were Ororo and Jean right?

Logan’s smirk deepened, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched you fumble over your words. "You’re a genius, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now."

Your heart raced, and you felt your palms start to sweat. Why was he so close? You tried to focus on the conversation, on anything other than how your body was reacting to his presence. "N-noticed what?" you managed to get out, your voice sounding way less composed than you intended.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far more than you were. "How I’ve been flirtin’ with ya for months now," he said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.

Your brain short-circuited. Flirting? Logan? Flirting? With you? That didn’t make any sense. Logan flirted with women who were… well, not you. He was the rough-around-the-edges kind of guy who went for women who were confident, flirtatious, and knew how to handle someone like him. You were the awkward  genius who spent more time in the lab than anywhere else. Guys didn’t flirt with you.

"You’ve been—wait, what?" you asked, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "You’ve been flirting with me?"

Logan chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah, doll. Pretty sure everyone at the mansion’s noticed by now." His smirk returned as he added, "Except you, apparently."

Your face burned, and you tried to think back. Had he been flirting? The nicknames, the snacks, the casual touches… it all seemed so… normal for Logan. You thought he was just being friendly, maybe a bit protective like he was with some of the younger students.

"I—" You started to say something but stopped, unsure of what exactly to say. You felt like the ground had shifted beneath you. "Why didn’t anyone tell me?"

Logan shrugged. "Didn’t think it was their place. Figured you’d catch on eventually." His gaze softened, and he added, "Didn’t expect you to be this oblivious, though. Kinda cute."

You were sure your face couldn’t get any redder. "I’m not… I’m not oblivious," you mumbled, crossing your arms defensively. "I just didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me."

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. "And why the hell not?"

"Because I’m… me!" You motioned to yourself, like that explained everything. "Guys don’t flirt with me, Logan. They’re usually intimidated or just… I don’t know. I’m not the kind of girl guys like."

You didn’t have any friends until you came here, which was sad because you were 24 when you finally had some.

Sure, you tried to make some during college, joined the gardening club and the astronomy club, but whenever you talked people would never really listen to you.

You even tried going on a few dates with some guys from online dating apps. They were your age, but they were in their third year of college while you were already working on two master’s degrees. You even had similarities with a few of them.

One guy liked Star Wars, and you went into a short rant about how the physics of it was wrong and even talked about a bunch of the lore behind it. Same with the other 2 dates you went on, they were all one and done.

Guys didn’t like you. That’s just the way it was.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, doll. You think guys don’t notice you?”

You crossed your arms, feeling defensive again. “I don’t think, I know. Trust me, I’ve tried.” You paused, hesitating before you added, “I’m not exactly… good at this kind of thing. Social stuff, I mean. I’m better at figuring out equations than people.”

Logan stepped closer, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “You’re wrong, sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’ve got this idea in your head that no one’s gonna want you because you’re too smart or too different, but that ain’t true. Not even close.”

You blinked up at him, unsure of how to respond. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flutter in a way that felt both exciting and terrifying. “I just… I don’t see why you’d be interested in me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re Logan. You could have anyone.”

Logan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I don’t want just anyone.” His eyes locked onto yours, his tone becoming serious. “I want you.”

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest. You had no idea what to say. Logan had been flirting with you—Logan, the gruff, no-nonsense guy you’d come to admire over the past year—and you’d been completely clueless. How could someone like him, someone who seemed so out of your league, be interested in you?

“I… I don’t understand,” you mumbled, still struggling to process everything. “Why me?”

Logan sighed, as if he had been waiting for this question for months. “Because you’re brilliant, Y/N. You’ve got this fire in you, this passion for everything you do. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and you don’t let anyone push you around. And you’re so damn kind, even when you don’t have to be.” He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to gather his thoughts. “You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell you, but… well, you’re not exactly the easiest person to talk to about feelings.”

You blinked. “I’m not?”

Logan smirked. “No, sweetheart, you’re not. You overthink everything. Makes it kinda hard to tell you I like you without you analyzing it to death.”

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, not really knowing what else to say. “I just didn’t think you… I didn’t think anyone would… you know.”

Logan stepped even closer, so close that you had to sit on the edge of your desk. “Well, I do,” he said, his voice low. “And I’ve been waitin’ for you to figure it out.”

You stared up at him, your mind still reeling. All this time, Logan had been flirting with you, had liked you, and you hadn’t noticed. And now, here he was, standing so close you could feel his breath on your skin, telling you exactly how he felt. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

"Logan, I…" you started, but the words got caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to something like this. Part of you wanted to brush it off as some kind of misunderstanding, but the way he was looking at you, the way he had always looked at you, made it clear that this wasn’t a joke or a misunderstanding.

He really liked you.

Logan smirked at your silence, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Speechless, huh? That’s a first," he teased, his voice low and rough in that way that made your stomach flip.

You shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "It’s just… I didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me. You’re Logan, and I’m…" You gestured to yourself awkwardly. "Me."

Logan frowned slightly, his brows pulling together. "What the hell’s that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged in response, turning your head downward to look down at your lap. It didn’t last long, because Logan put his thumb on your chin, turning your head upright to look at him.

He noticed your expression change, you were someone who was easy to read, never really kept her emotions hidden well, or at least not to him. You went from big doe eyes and sad, pouty lips to flustered. Your eyes were curious and almost nervous and your pink lips, courtesy of the colored lip balm you always wore, were slightly parted.

Logan held your gaze, his thumb gently resting on your chin, and you couldn’t help but feel your pulse quicken under his touch. He was so close now, close enough that the musky scent of him was filling your senses, making it even harder to think clearly.

"You really think I’d waste my time on someone I didn’t want?" Logan’s voice was low, gruff, but there was a softness to it that you hadn’t heard before.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The words were jumbled in your mind, and all you could focus on was the way his rough fingers were still holding your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. The confidence he exuded was overwhelming. How could he be so sure, so calm, while you felt like your brain was on fire?

"Logan, I…" you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his hand, the warmth of his body so close—it was too much.

He let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Doll, you’re overthinking again."

Your lips pressed together into a thin line as you tried to get a handle on your spiraling thoughts. "I’m just… surprised. I didn’t think…" You hesitated, the words feeling clumsy in your mouth. His thumb moved slightly up, still holding onto your chin but now brushing against your lower lip, making it more difficult to concentrate or come up with a single coherent thought.

No one had ever treated you like this, so kindly and… normally. You thought back to the only 3 dates you had ever been on during college, how none of them ever really tried to get to know you, or peel back the layers behind your smarts.

Because you weren’t just smart, you loved gardening, and baking, hell, you even liked to dress cute. And out of all the guys, Logan never treated you like someone different. It was nice to be around someone like that, who embraced who you were rather than try and get you to bury it. Maybe it was his age? You remember reading an article from a psych organization about how younger women like older men because of emotional maturity-

Rough hands cupped your face, bringing you out of your thoughts. “Hey, stop thinkin’. What the hell could you be thinkin’ about right now?”

You gave a shy smile and shook your head gently, his hands still on your face. “Nothin’,” you mumbled, your voice softer than you intended. You tried to play it off like everything was fine, but Logan wasn’t buying it.

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb brushing your cheek now. "You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart." His voice was low, that gravelly tone sending shivers down your spine.

You swallowed, your mind still racing as you searched for the right words. "I just… I don’t get why you’d want me," you admitted, your eyes flicking away from his. "You’re this… badass, Logan. You’ve been through so much. You could have anyone."

His hands stayed where they were, his touch gentle but firm as he guided your gaze back to his. "I told you, doll. I don’t want anyone else. I want you."

You blinked up at him, still unsure of how to respond. It felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, and your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts. On one hand, Logan was the last person you ever thought would have feelings for you. On the other hand, here he was, being painfully honest, and you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice.

"I just…" you hesitated, biting your lip, "I don’t know how to do this, Logan. I’m not… I’ve never been good at… people. Relationships. I mean, I’m good at math, science, and solving problems but not—this."

Logan chuckled softly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You don’t gotta be good at it, Y/N. You just gotta be you." His voice softened, the teasing tone dropping away as he said, "That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

Your breath caught in your throat. He made it sound so simple, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal to you. You hadn’t dated much—hardly at all, if you were being honest. Relationships felt like another complex equation you couldn’t quite solve.

"Logan, I…" you started, but he cut you off, his hands dropping from your face to settle on your hips, pulling you just a little closer.

"You overthinkin’ again?" Logan smirked, one eyebrow raised.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. "Maybe a little," you admitted, your voice quiet. It was hard to concentrate when he was so close, his hands resting on your hips like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"That’s what I thought," Logan muttered, leaning in just enough that his forehead almost touched yours. "You don’t gotta figure everything out right now, doll. Just… let it happen."

You stared at him, your mind whirling. "Let it happen?" you echoed, trying to wrap your head around what he was saying.

"Yeah," Logan said softly, his voice rough but soothing at the same time. "Stop tryin’ to solve it like it’s some kinda problem. Just be with me."

You blinked, your heart doing that weird fluttering thing again. Be with him? It sounded so simple when he said it like that. But you couldn’t help the flood of doubt that kept creeping into your mind. What if you screwed it up? What if you weren’t good enough at this? What if—

Logan’s hands tightened slightly on your hips, and he pulled you closer, cutting off your spiraling thoughts. "Y/N, you’re doin’ it again," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble in the space between you. "You’re thinkin’ too much."

You sighed, biting your lip again. "I can’t help it," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. "That’s just how my brain works."

Logan chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I know, darlin’. But you don’t gotta do that with me."

His words hung in the air, and you found yourself staring at him, completely unsure of what to say next. No one had ever spoken to you like this before. No one had ever made you feel like it was okay to just… be. You were always the smartest person in the room, always expected to have the answers, to be the one in control. But with Logan, it felt different. He didn’t expect you to be anything but yourself.

"I…" You trailed off, your throat tightening. "I don’t know how to not overthink things."

Logan’s smirk softened, and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes warm as they met yours. "Then I’ll just have to distract you, won’t I?"

Before you could even process what he was saying, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It was like everything around you froze for a moment, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to catch up with what was happening.

Logan was kissing you.

Logan.

Was kissing.

You.

Your hands moved instinctively to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. It wasn’t what you expected—nothing in your life had ever felt like this. The warmth, the softness of his lips against yours, the way he held you like you were something precious… it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

If you would’ve told your past self from five years ago, hell, even two months ago, that your first kiss would be with the Wolverine, you would’ve thought it was some grand, cosmic joke. But there you were, hands fisting into Logan’s shirt, his lips gently pressing against yours like this was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t how you’d imagined your first kiss would go. Not that you’d spent a lot of time imagining it—honestly, you’d been too busy with equations, papers, and research to even consider the prospect of someone being interested in you. But if you had pictured it, this wouldn’t have been it. Not with a man like Logan.

His rough hands held you in place, strong but careful, as if he was hyper-aware of how delicate you felt in his grasp. You, who could bend nature to your will, whose intelligence far surpassed anyone’s expectations, felt completely and utterly vulnerable in his arms.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t by much. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and slightly uneven. Logan’s lips curved into a smirk, one you could practically feel against your skin.

“Well,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, “that didn’t seem too bad, did it?”

You blinked up at him, still trying to recover from the shock. “I… I don’t—what just happened?”

Logan chuckled softly, his thumbs brushing small circles into your hips, keeping you grounded when your thoughts were spinning out of control. “I just kissed ya, sweetheart. And unless I’m readin’ the situation wrong, you didn’t mind too much.”

Your mind raced, heart hammering in your chest. “No, I—” You paused, biting your lip as you tried to form a coherent thought. “I didn’t mind. It’s just—”

“Just what?” Logan’s voice softened, his expression growing more serious as he studied your face.

“I wasn’t expecting it.” You swallowed, looking away from him for a moment before forcing yourself to meet his eyes again. “I didn’t think someone like you… I mean, I didn’t think you would- I didn’t think anyone would- ”

Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish, but when you didn’t, he took a step closer. His hand was still resting on your hip, keeping you anchored to him, and the heat of his body was impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think what, sweetheart?”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his question press down on you. It was like all the words in your head had turned to static, and you couldn’t figure out how to string a coherent sentence together. "I just… I don’t know," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, but his eyes stayed serious. "You don’t know, or you don’t wanna say?"

You bit your lip, your mind still reeling from the kiss. The memory of it—soft, unexpected, but not unwelcome—was playing on a loop in your head. You hadn’t been kissed much, if at all, and the idea that Logan was the one to give you your first real kiss was still something you were trying to process.

But you couldn’t lie, it was nice. You were 25, just had your first kiss, and suddenly you felt like a teenager in a Disney movie.

A grin slipped past your lips. "I just wasn’t expecting you to kiss me, old man," you finally replied, your voice teasing but soft.

Logan’s eyebrows raised, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Old man, huh?" he murmured, his voice dipping into that gravelly tone that always made you feel a bit flustered. "Pretty sure that kiss just proved I’ve still got it."

You laughed softly, your hands still fisted in his shirt, though he didn’t seem to mind at all. Logan’s smirk widened at the sound of your laughter, and you could feel the tension in the air start to ease, just a little.

"Yeah, maybe you do," you replied, your voice soft but teasing as you looked up at him, your heart still beating a little too fast from the kiss. "Guess you're not as rusty as I thought."

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Rusty?" he repeated, his voice low and playful, with that gravelly edge that made your stomach flip every time. "You seriously thought I was rusty, sweetheart?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite how close he was and how easily he seemed to get under your skin. "I don’t know. I mean, you’re a couple of hundred years old. Thought you might’ve lost your touch."

Logan chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as he leaned in just a little closer. "Oh, darlin'," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I ain't lost a damn thing."

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Logan’s confidence was overwhelming, but it wasn’t just that—there was a tenderness in the way he looked at you, a softness in his touch that made your chest feel tight.

"Okay, okay," you finally muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to deflect some of the attention. "Point taken."

Logan grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "Good," he said simply, his thumbs brushing lightly over your hips where his hands still rested. "’Cause I don’t wanna hear any more about me bein’ rusty or old. Got it?"

You nodded, biting your lip as you tried not to smile too much. "Got it."

chapter 3 of Sweet Dreams will be up tomorrow!

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face. 

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door. 

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here. 

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit. 

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat. 

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again. 

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like. 

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression. 

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug. 

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you. 

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full. 

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.” 

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial. 

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing. 

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today. 

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits. 

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother. 

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down. 

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why. 

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night. 

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened. 

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples. 

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items. 

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?” 

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of. 

“Okay,” you agree excitedly. 

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay. 

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you. 

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[babbymochiiii]

⊹₊ ⋆ᯓ★ street racer mark lee

❤︎ ໋𓈒 street racer!mark x afab!reader; you can ride me...or you can ride with me.

ʚ warnings: not proof read, ngl i'm pretty lazy with the smut here...so bare with me cause i was losing the creative juice for it 💀, some boob loving, oral/fingering (f), p in v, unprotected sex (pls...use a condom), mark is drunk on pussy 🤷🏽, creampie x2, possessive mark, dub con, backseat sex, johnny being an asshole of not respecting your space, screaming match between mark and reader, and lots of curse words being thrown around one another. won't lie the second smut scene might make some of my readers uncomfortable due to the content it has and how mark just handles the situation, so i will be putting a little warning sign between the dialogue so if you wish to skip it you can, i don't think you need to have full context of what happens as i feel like the dialogue that comes after explains itself. 

ʚ to hear that songs that lowkey had some inspiration to this fic, here is the link to the spotify playlist i made; click here for street racer! mark playlist!

ʚ author’s note: yes this is me adding more about street racer mark from my first ever post here…but with a bit more fun >:) enjoy! originally, i did want to get this out before mark’s b-day, but my bf was in town from school and we’ll all writing plans went out the window and i had to take advantage of my time with him 😩🫶🏼 other than that note, i have been writing here and there for this post as much as i could or really come up with on the spot cause my brain is in a little :P mood for a while now so… ✨motivation is fast and furious ✨

ʚ word count: 7.4k words

❤︎ ໋𓈒 if you haven't read the past parts to this series, here is the series m.list!

street racer!mark who loves the adrenaline rush he gets every time he races.

street racer! mark who is honestly pretty cold and straight forward with people but is a honestly a golden retriever with his tight circle. (He’s a Doberman basically)

street racer! mark from the first moment he saw you, he knew you were his.

street racer! mark who was ready to bash his opponents head into his steering wheel for even looking at you the way he did when you were set up as their flag girl (though he knew he couldn’t but that wouldn’t stop him)

street racer! mark who honestly catches johnny off guard when he acts all sweet and nice to you after you helped start the race he just finished (and won)

street racer! mark who realized he lowkey made a fool of himself when he asked you to be his sugar mama, but couldn’t help but feel his soul sore when he heard you laugh at his rambling

street racer! mark who knew the moment that you agreed to hanging out with him after his two races, you were meant to be his

street racer! mark who honestly cornered your friend into a corner and convinced her to give him your number after not seeing you for a month (he’s quite convincing without doing much)

street racer! mark who feels like a hormonal teenage boy feeling extremely nervous when texting you due to the fact that he wasn’t sure how your relationship with him stood

street racer! mark who the moments he sends the first text he throws his phone onto his bed before shoving his face between his hands because he knows that you have him whipped after one interaction

street racer! mark who jumps at the sound of his phone signaling that he had a new text message, and with a racing heart, grabs his phone and instantly felt his face heat up in ecstasy and a small laugh of embarrassment for not explaining that it was him in the first place when you asked who was texting you

street racer! mark who invites you out to the races tonight, shooting a blank bullet knowing it was hit or miss if you came out tonight or not; but to his delight you ended up saying yes causing him to jump up and let out a “HELL YEAH!” in the process while gaining a weird look from haechan as he walked passed his door

street racer! mark who watches your interaction with johnny from afar, his jaw set as he tries not to storm over. but the moment he sees johnny reach towards your hair and pull it out of the make-shift low bun you had something within him set ablaze and he started to make his way towards you.

“y/n! there you are!” he called out as he was close enough to be in your ear shot. “mark, hey!” you said as you turned and looked at him with a wide smile. “so I was thinking, do you possibly want to get in the car with me for my next race?” he asked you as he looked at you with a look that he knew you couldn’t refuse his offer. you have a look of hesitance. “i mean is that allowed? like dude, I’m not trying to break any rules that says I’m not supposed to do this so like—“ you rambled as you looked between mark and johnny for reassurance (it bothered him you looked at johnny with that look on your face and not just him…) “nah bro, you good. besides it’s sort of really freaking rare if someone sat in the passenger seat with the driver unless that person is on their team.” he made sure to reassure you as he placed his arm around your shoulders and bringing you to his side. you looked up at mark and gave him a wide smile of excitement, that to him, makes your eyes sparkle with said emotion. “then, yeah I’ll go ride with you.”

street racer! mark who can’t stop laughing at the way you scream his name out as he speeds down the roads. several squeals leave your lips as you also laughed out as he could tell was your adrenaline causing you to react in that way.

street racer! mark who can’t help but feel the pride swell in his chest as you cheer him on for winning the race.

street racer! mark who can’t help but hold in his laugh knowing that he caught you off guard with his slight flirt comment.

“all thanks to you.” “dude, you’re flirting.” you said as mark watched your jaw drop slightly in shock. with the small silence that falls between the two of you, makes you both laugh out over the moment.

street racer! mark who doesn’t think twice about leaning in (nor did he care) as he watched you lean in as well with hooded eyes.

street racer!mark who was ready to end johnny’s life as he knew he purposely slammed the car’s hood and squeezed in between the two of you for conversation.

street racer! mark who was trying his best to keep his cool in front of you as he continued the conversation.

“you should’ve heard how she was screaming at the top of her lungs.” mark said as he laughs about your reaction. “yeah i bet she was pretty loud.” johnny said with a cocky smirk while looking down at you.

street racer! mark who was picturing 1,000 ways of his killing his so called friend after the comment he made, but of course that didn’t stop for either of their slip up in front of you as they glared at one another with a knowing look.

street racer! mark who despite the fact he said goodbye to you with glee, he turned around back towards johnny, who he too was turning towards mark, losing the smile on his face as an intense silence falls before them.

"what are you getting at Suh?" mark said getting straight to the point. "don't know what you mean, Lee." johnny said with a smirk as the situation wasn't obvious. "you know i'm going after her." mark said as he felt his anger starting to take over him. johnny scoffs. "it's not like you laid a claim on her just yet mark. she's free game."

street racer! mark who knew with the way johnny smiled at him meant nothing good, and knew that if he wanted you to be his and only his, he had to find ways (and he always found a way)

street racer! mark who coincidentally bumped into you on college campus and somehow convinced you to hang out with him outside of the car meet (anything to get the upper hand)

street racer! mark who couldn't stop staring at you when he took you to a diner that is a couple miles out of town; you were scared of course, but mark reassured you that everything was going to be okay with him beside you (and dude has a gun with him so really yall are fine-)

street racer! mark who somehow convinced you to go with him to a tattoo/piercing shop with him.

"you're getting your eyebrow pierced?" you asked with an intrigued tone lacing around your question. "yeah, i mean, why not? been wanting to get one honestly." mark said as he gave you a quick glance as he continued to drive down the road towards the shop. "i think you'll look good with it." you said softly as you felt yourself blush at the thought of mark having an eyebrow piercing. suddenly, the thought was more than just innocent thought. mark is a very good looking man, you couldn't deny it as you felt yourself attracted, but for some reason the thought of mark having an eyebrow piercing....it makes you squeeze your thighs together. you tried to be discreet about it, as said man you're fantasizing about it right next to you.

street racer! mark who doesn't miss the way you clench your thighs together as you continue savoring the thought of mark having an eyebrow piercing. his free hand runs along the bottom of his bottom lip as a smirk stretches on his face at the thought of you getting turned on. the hand on steering wheel tightens slightly at the thought of you in such a way for him to the point that his knuckles turn white, before he let's go of his grip to calm himself down as you both have arrived to the shop.

"ready?" you asked mark as you both walked towards the front door of said shop. "ready than never, baby." mark said lowly in such a sultry tone, that it visible made chills run down your spine and for a slight blush dust on your face and neck, as you tried to look away from him, but he could read your body language by now and it only made him chuckle to himself.

street racer! mark who sits down on the chair the body piercer has in their room as they prep everything for the procedure.

when mark look's toward you he swears you're more nervous for him that he is for himself. "you okay, baby?" he asked as he couldn't help but smirk at you, but still took hold of your hand in his in a gentle hold. "y-yeah, just...you know. it's a big needle." you mumbled as you look down to where his thumb was rubbing gentle circles on your knuckles to distract you from your own nerves. "i'll be okay, don't worry too much for me baby." mark said as he gave you a small squeeze of reassurance.

street racer! mark who couldn’t help but feel his ego swell due to the fact that you couldn’t stop looking at him with his new piercing.

“you okay baby?” mark asked as he gave you a quick glance in the car before looking back towards the road. “huh? oh— uh yeah, i’m fine!” you squeaked out embarrassed as you looked at your hands resting at your lap. your nails are looking really interesting right now. mark smirked at your reaction before he continued to drive to your dorm complex.

street racer! mark who makes sure that everyone knows that you are his. does not give a flying fuck honestly at how people react when you’re with him, he knows has to stop it and doesn’t care how he’s gotta get them to shut up. but of course, there is johnny…who doesn’t know what isn’t yours, you shouldn’t touch.

street racer! mark who is fed up with johnny’s bs of blatantly flirting with you in front of him. to which he takes measures into his own hand and asks you out on an official date with him tomorrow night.

“on—on a date?” you asked him as he saw the way your face and neck started to flush in a delicate red shade. “yes, thought i’d make it official.” mark said as he leaned in slightly and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “i— yeah i would love to.” you mumbled softly to him as he let his hand linger softly on your cheek, causing you to flush deeper. “great i’ll pick you up, baby.” mark said as he placed a quick, tender kiss on your forehead. when mark stood straight, he looked behind you and saw the way johnny was sending him glares towards him, that mark couldn’t help but smirk at him before he took your hand and brought you to his car.

street racer! mark who goes all out for your first date with him. he was honestly a nervous wreck, but was pulling though seeing how brightly you were smiling at him, and just how your eyes caught the light just right...it made his heart go into overdrive at the sight before him.

street racer! mark who is such a gentleman throughout the whole date that you honestly can't help but make the first move on him when he dropped you off at your dorm room's door.

"i had a good night tonight." you said softly as you looked up towards mark with a small smile on your face and with a knowing blush resting on your face. "i'm glad you enjoyed it baby. anything for you." mark said as he looked down at you with a boyish smile playing on his face. something about the way mark looked in front of you had you in a daze. his black hair in a messy slicked back hairstyle with some strands of hair falling in his face. the classic leather black jacket he wore, this time with a white shirt underneath the jacket, black belt wrapped around blue jeans, as he wore black boots with his whole outfit. your mouth was honestly watering at the sight in front of you. "do you want to go on a da—" mark started but was cut off with the feeling of you taking hold of his shirt in your hand and pulling him down to your level. "—date?" "shut up and kiss me mark." you commanded softly as you eyed the way he licked his lips. without saying a word, mark leaned in and delivered one hell of a bruising kiss. nothing about the kiss was delicate like he was treating you all night. the kiss was straight passion that was breaking through the restraints that held around mark as all he's been wanting to do was devour you whole. there was some teeth clash, but neither of you cared as all you both wanted was to get closer to the other as you tried to fight for dominance in the kiss. you instantly gave up in trying to win for dominance when mark's tongue grazed along yours, causing you to whimper in the kiss as you felt yourself melting at the taste and feeling of him.

street racer! mark who was trying to be a complete and utter gentleman when it came to wanting to take things further with you, but didn't want to push things further if you weren't willing to push at the boundaries as well.

"baby." mark mumbled in the kiss before pulling himself apart, as much to both of yours protest. "i don't want to do anything you don't want to do." mark said as he felt your hands wrap themselves around his neck and find the length of his hair and pull at it, causing for a groan to escape his lips. mark felt himself twitch in his jeans as tugged again at his roots, causing him to bite his bottom lip and look down at you. "mark please...i need you" you muttered your plea as you looked up at him with such doe eyes and a small pout that mark knew that he was completely at your mercy.

street racer! mark who the moment you opened your door and walked inside, he had you pinned against the closed door.

"are you sure you want to do this?" mark said as he looked down at you where you were caged between his arms. "yes." you breathlessly moaned out as you arched your back where your chest grazed his, just to show him how willing you are. "fuck..." mark mumbled before he placed his had at the back of your neck and pulled you into another throb-inducing-kiss. clothes started to come off between the two of you as you walked towards your bed, where mark wanted everything to be comfortable, mostly for you. you were only left in your underwear as you laid so pretty under the dim lighting of your bedroom. mark swore under his breath as he watched the way your chest rises and falls in quick breathes. his eyes travel over the expense of your exposed skin. it didn't take long for mark to find himself between your thighs. he captured your lips into a gentle kiss, completely different from before. inviting as the kiss was, it quickly turned harsh and hot when you bit mark's bottom lip. mark led his kisses down your neck in open mouth kisses, leaving blossoming bruises on the juncture that was between your neck and shoulder. as mark's lips traveled down your sternum, you started to release more breathy moans as the ticklish sensations over your flushed skin. mark took hold of your plumped breasts into each of his hand and gave them a slight squeeze, earning a delicious moan from you. encouraged, he takes one of your hard nipples into his mouth and suck on them lightly while tracing the tip of his tongue over it. you started to mumble curses as mark began to stimulate your neglected nipple between his pointer finger and thumb. he pulled on the nipple as he simultaneously bit down softly and tug on the nipple in his mouth causing for you to arch your back off of your bed and moan out loudly. with a lewd pop, mark started to kiss down your navel leaving slight nips in his path. once he reached down your clothed cunt, he started to place small, quick pecks where your clit lays. seeing the way you reacted. without wanting to wait to devour you any longer, mark rips your underwear in half with a rasped promise; "i'll buy you a new one baby, don't worry." was the last you heard before a moan rips through you as he placed a hard press of his tongue between your wet folds. mark starts to eat you out in a rhythm-ed pace that his tongue and fingers followed as they went inside of you, curling the front of the digits against your gummy walls. as mark continued, he felt you clench around his fingers and tongue. with one last push and curl, he had you arching your back off of your bed with a loud moan as you came. mark helped you ride out your orgasm with slow thrusts of his fingers. as you came calmed down from the intensity of the orgasm, you failed to notice mark pulling down his pants freeing his hard, aching length from it's death trap. mark gave himself a few pumps before he leaned above you. he lined himself up to your gaping entrance, but wanted to distract you due to the fact he feels like he didn't stretch you out enough with his fingers.

mark placed his lips on yours in a searing kiss, that made you fully pull your focus into the kiss. as he continued to kiss you, mark pushed himself into your first ring of resistance. you whimpered at the sensation of the stretch, while mark moaned at how tight you felt around him. mark slowly pumped himself in and out, slowly, resting the waters a bit to see how you would react to his movements. as mark started to pick up his pace, you both completely lose yourselves to the sensation you were feeling. mark was completely weak in the knees as he felt the way your gummy walls milked him with each stroke. not realizing how lost he was in the feeling, mark speed up to such a delicious pace it had you rolling your eyes back and curling your toes. you could hear mark mumbling incoherent sentences, but you were able to catch some of the words that slipped out of his mouth; “so fucking tight.”; “she’s sucking me in so good— fuck.” ; “that’s it baby, take me just like that…”;“listen to her, she’s fucking talking to me.” with each sentence that you could catch beyond your moans and his grunts, caused you to clench around him uncontrollably, that only causes mark to keep losing the little resolve he had left. "baby, if you keep clenching me like that...i'm not going to last long." mark said as he felt himself just continuing his brutal pace that had him grazing against your cervix in such a delicious way, that you swore you would give this man whatever he wanted if it meant that he could keep making you feel the way you do right now. "mark, please...please i'm so close! i—" you choked out a moan as he started to go in such a much faster pace than he was before (that was surprising you in all honestly) that your legs were practically on his shoulders at this point for the way he kept leaning against you to kiss between the valley of your breasts, along the juncture of your neck and jaw. you could feel the long, burning tell-tale of your orgasm fast approaching, especially if mark kept up with the fast pace that his hips where sending against yours. making your entire body jump up against his thrusts. "fuck, baby you're so beautiful taking me the way you are and how you're looking at me." mark grunted out as he whipped a strand of hair that was clinging to your sweaty forehead. "so beautiful — shit — and all mine." mark said, and in that moment it was as if something officially snapped within his mind because if he was going fast now, he was going in faster (that you swore wasn't humanly possible but he was proving you wrong.) "say it." he said as his hand went down your navel, and pressed his thumb down hard onto your throbbing clit, causing you to arch your back at the sensation mixing in with his ruthless thrusts. "say it for me baby, please i need to hear it." mark moaned out, that sounded like an a whimper by the end. you knew then and there that he was close to his orgasm as much as you are as he wanted that one finally push and his hips started to stutter. "m-mark, i'm all yours!" you squealed out as mark started to rub his fingers in a messy side-to-side matter against your clit that without warning you came loud and hard. mark swore he was in heaven the moment he felt you clench his cock in such a vice grip that it was almost impossible to continue thrusting himself into you. but along with you, mark groaned as he let out his load inside of you (not really thinking of the consequences it could bring of course.) mark rode out his orgasm, while helping you through yours.

street racer! mark who watches you with such tender expression that it hurts his heart knowing how quickly you came into his world and took him off of the course he was on. (he's in love with you)

street racer! mark who slowly removes himself from inside of you with a groan, before quietly leaving your side to go to your bathroom to grab a soft towel to clean you up with.

you felt something gently graze over your sensitive entrance that caused you to let out a small whimper at the sensation. "hey...sorry i don't mean to hurt you baby. just trying to clean you up so we can go shower and sleep for the night." mark said gently as he lifted himself up and started to place sweet, gentle kisses on your face as he watched you slowly lift up your hooded eyelids that were heavy with sleep. "okay..." you said softly as you gave mark a small smile. you and mark looked at one another with such tenderness that you honestly felt like you were gonna go into some sort of cardiac arrest at the way your heart was beating out of it's normal pace. "hi." you said shyly as you didn't know what to say to him. mark chuckled as he saw the shy blush carry itself across your face and chest. "hi, baby." he said softly as he placed a kiss onto your forehead. "come on, lemme help you into the shower." he said as he placed his arms around your neck and the back of your knees.

street racer! mark who was absolutely incredible at aftercare that honestly made you want to cry due to the fact he paid such attention on your needs, that you just felt so loved.

street racer! mark who after your shower, gives you a shirt he found in your closet and brings you to bed. makes sure you drink your water, and that you get all the cuddles in as you both get some much needed sleep.

street racer! mark who hasn't seen you in a while due to you become busy with schoolwork as it became one of the busiest week of the school year.

street racer! mark who is excited when he steps out of his car in front of your school campus as he goes to the other side of his car to lean against it, to surprise you with a pick up ride from him, when the smile he had on his face falls as he sees you walking out with some guy at your side.

street racer! mark who can see the way you're smiling at him and tilted your head back in laughter, by the way your shoulders shook up and down, from what he said. whatever he could've said, couldn't be that funny.

street racer! mark who watches the way your eyes lit up at the exact moment that you looked forward again, that he couldn't help but feel reassured in himself when you left with a quick goodbye to the guy behind you and made a full sprint towards mark.

"mark!" you squealed out in happiness as you opened your arms open as you jumped into mark's waiting arms for you. mark spun the two of you around quickly as he held you in a tight hug that he wasn't quite ready to let go of you. "hey baby." he greeted you before he placed a kiss onto your lips. "what are you doing here?" you said as you looked up at him with such an infectious smile that he couldn't help the way his smile grew wider. "wanted to surprise you baby." he said as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "ooh! a surprise, are we going somewhere?" you asked as you bit your bottom lip in excitement. "you could say something like that." mark teased you as he opened your door for you.

street racer! mark who lowkey disassociates as he drives on your way to your shared dorm room. he couldn't help but think about what he saw when he picked you up. something possessive paced within his chest, that honestly was slightly unsettling to him but he couldn't help but let the feeling grow and manifest inside of him.

street racer! mark who takes a detour from the original route that he usually takes to your place. he tried not to pay attention to the look you gave him from his peripheral vision.

⚠️CAN SKIP SCENE IF YOU WISH⚠️

"mark? why are we going this way?" you questioned quietly as you looked around the trees that were starting to surround you and the car. you were met with silence as you looked at the far out expression on his face. the silence felt so loud for you as you waited for mark to react to your question. as you opened your mouth to say something, mark suddenly breaks his car in the middle of the off-the-beaten road. silence once again takes over the two of you, creating a suffocating atmosphere in the car. you were about to speak up, but mark beat you to it. "surprise." he said in a mono toned voice. you felt a shiver run up your spine at the way he spoke to you. you've never heard him use this tone to you nor around you. it felt like a completely different person beside you. "surprise?" you questioned, afraid to add more to your question not knowing how his response is. "this is the surprise i have for you baby." mark said in a tone that was too overly sweet and it was starting to make you feel uneasy. "mark..." "who was that guy baby?" mark asked you as he tilted his head to the side, trying to seem innocent and curious. you studied mark's expression as much as you can as you tried to find some slip up on his end. seeing that he was being consistent with the front he is having, you sighed. "he's in a class of mine." mark hummed out as he looked past your shoulder with a small nod. "a guy from your class..." he mumbled out, still having that far out look on his face. when mark looked back at you, the look in his eyes almost made you flinch if he didn't reach over to you grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you forward. "why were you all smiles with him? don't you know you're mine? i don't get it." mark said as he looked down briefly before looking back at you. "why were you smiling at him?" he asked as he pouted at you. you honestly felt like you were gonna get whiplash. "i was being polite?" you questioned yourself at this point cause you didn't know how to approach it. mark just stared at you as the grip on the back of your neck tightened slightly as he adjusted his fingers. he reaches over with his free hand and grabs hold of you face, squishing your cheeks together to create an embarrassing pout on your lips. "get in the back seat." mark said with a side gesture of his head. you looked towards the small section of mark's car that he called his backseat. you didn't know what to make head or tail of. one part of you wanted to go cry about this cause you weren't sure where to put your emotions in, but the other part of you...she couldn't help but feel turned on by the situation you were in with mark. the way he let his possessive side show in such a raw way, made something primal rise within you. seeing that you weren't moving fast enough for him, mark repeated his command. "get in the back seat, baby." with a small gulp of uncertainty and of anticipation, you started to head towards the backseat. once situated in the backseat, you couldn't help but feel the tension rise as you saw the way mark was looking at you. a predator looking at it's prey. mark looked at you with such a predatory look in his eyes, pupils completely darken over with lust, it made you shudder and clamp your thighs together. he soon hoped over to the back seat with you and without missing a beat, he took hold of your ankle and yanked you down the seat to where he was above of you. a gasp leaves your lips as you looked up towards mark with wide eyes. without saying anything to you, mark takes holds of your hips and turns you around; ass up and face down. “mark can we please talk properly!?” you cried out as you tried to push his hands away from your hips as they tried to hook around the waist band of your skirt. "shh s'okay baby, i'm going to make you forget completely about your classmate." "mark! please..." you moaned out as you started to feel him play with your sensitive nub. "we're talking baby." mark said as he preoccupied himself with taking his half harden length out of the confines of his jeans.

“this isn’t how it’s supposed to be mark!” you cried out as you felt him push your panties to the side and start to rub himself against your slightly glistening folds. "i'd say this talk to going the way it's supposed to baby." was all he said as he continued to rub himself against your folds to the point where it was fully hard and dying to get inside of you. "besides you want me just as much as i want you. can't you feel how wet you are for me baby?" mark questions as he starts to tease your entrance with his swollen tip. you were completely torn. you didn't know what to do considering mark was not going to have an actual conversation regarding the situation the two of you are in. he just wanted to fuck this whole argument out of your system to get it over with and it just isn't supposed to be like that...you know this. but why was he making you feel so good about it. mentally you knew this whole ordeal was wrong but...physically you wanted him. you wanted to cry as you felt such intense and confused emotions, you just didn't know what to place what to what anymore. you truly couldn't find your voice in this situation, and it frustrated you to no end that you felt tears starting to sting your eyes. "please mark..." you whimpered out as you felt yourself starting to dissociate. "fuck baby, anything for you." mark said as he started to insert his length inside of you. as mark fully inserted himself inside of you he let out a pleasured moan, while you let out a whimpered cry. nothing that was happening to you felt real. absolutely nothing. mark continued pleasuring himself and you were completely disconnected. you weren't even sure if you actually came or you just faked it so it could be all over with. all you knew is that mark came inside of you, pulled out and covered you once again with your panties. letting his come ooze out of you and fall onto your panties, creating an uncomfortable feeling. "you're so good for me baby." mark whispered into your ear as he pushed your hair behind your ear and placed a chaste kiss on your temple. tears fell from your eyes as utter disgust consumed your entire being.

street racer! mark who has been noticing things have been rocky between the two of you since he picked you up from your class two weeks ago. but still has high hopes for the two of you as he sees that you are still reaching out to him in the best way you can.

street racer! mark who brings you to the car meets after the two weeks of rocky tension, to which he is completely happy and his "normal self" around you while he goes and does his races. and completely misses the way johnny watches your every move so he can have a chance to talk to you.

you were standing off to the side of the crowd in your own world as you waited for mark to finish his set races today. you were in your own world for so long, that you didn't notice that johnny has approached you until he waves his hand in your face. "oh..." you said softly as you blinked your eyes before looking up at johnny with a awkward smile. "hi, johnny." "hey sweetheart, you alright? i'm seeing you all alone and wanted to see how you're doing?" johnny says as he looked at you with a concerned look on his face. "oh i'm fine. just a bit tired from school and all." you said softly trying to shrug johnny off of you. "and mark's got you out here late? he should've just let you rest at your apartment." johnny said as he frowned his eyebrows. "yeah he wanted me to stay home and get some rest but i wanted to come out and support him since i know he has quite of few races set out for him tonight." you lied through your teeth as you gave johnny a smile. "you know..." johnny trials off as he rubs his hand on his chin before his gaze turned up on you. "...if you were my girl this wouldn't be happening to you." "excuse me?" you questioned as you felt a scoff leaves your lips as you looked at him in disbelief of what he just said to you. "i could be a better boyfriend than mark can be to you sweetheart." he said a he went to go and graze his hand on your face. you gently swatted johnny's hand away from your face before it made contact. "mark's not my boyfriend johnny." "oh really? he never made it official. this whole time i thought he has for the way he acts around you." johnny says as he rolls his eyes at the mere thought that mark has been with you for two months and hasn't grown the balls to make it official with you yet. "well...i'm not rushing him for making it official, johnny." you said as you took a step so you could create a space between yourself and johnny. "why are you even waiting when he's clearly comfortable in the position you guys are in." johnny says as he takes a step towards you, closing the space between the two of you. you rolled your eyes at him as you took a step backwards still trying to keep a good distant between him. not liking the fact that you keep distancing yourself from him, johnny takes hold of your wrist. "i could be a better boyfriend than him, angel." he whispers into your ear. "let me go!"

street racer! mark who finishes the first half of his races and looks for you the moment he parked his car. as he looked for you amongst the crowd, finally landed his eyes onto your figure. but what he saw was making him see red.

street racer! mark who sees the way you and johnny are both cozy against the other, as johnny holds you close to his form. even though he fails to see the obvious discomfort on your face, mark comes up with 1 to 1 million ways that this is you moving on from him and he just couldn't have it that way what's so ever.

street racer! mark who races towards the two of you. pushes johnny off of you and taking hold of your wrist in his hand and dragging you behind him to his car. damn the rest of the races he had planned out for the rest of the night...he wanted to deal with you.

"mark! slow down!" you cried out behind him as you stumbled on your steps as he was moving too fast for you to catch up to him. you were met with silence from him as he continued to drag you behind him. the only response you got from him was the hold on your wrist tightening to the point where it started to pinch your skin in between his fingers. the sensation causes you to wince. mark slightly faltered at the sound of your pained grunt, but continued pushing through the crowd towards his car. one you both made it to his car, mark opened the passenger's door and pushed you inside before he slammed the door shut. this causes you to flinch at the sound and the sudden jerked motion the car had due to the force of the car door slamming shut in your face. you honestly didn't know what was going to happen to you right now. you've never seen mark this mad before. yes...there was the instance with your classmate but this...this was a different mark. this wasn't the mark that you got to know. mark got into his side of the car with slam of his car door as well. without saying anything to you, he starts the car and has the car moving faster before you could get something into the tense air between the two of you. "mark—" "why do you do this!?" mark yells out as he starts to speed down the dirt road that leads out of the car meet. "do what mark!? what did i do?" you cried out as you felt tears sting the corner of your eyes as you felt yourself get frustrated as you knew where this was going to go now. "why the fuck were you so close to johnny? of all fucking people, him! you know how he makes me feel!" mark yells out as he slams one hand on the steering wheel. "mark...johnny was trying his usual shit on me yes! i was trying to get out of the situation but he wasn't letting me!" you said as tears started to fall down your face. "i don't fucking believe you." mark said with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. you felt your heart sink at the declaration he made about you. "are—" you cut yourself off as you felt a laugh bubble in your throat, letting yourself know that you are starting to fall into some sort of shock. "—are you fucking serious right now mark lee? do you FUCKING HEAR YOURSELF!?" you screamed out as more tears started to fall down your face in pure blistering anger. "i wouldn't be surprised if you've thrown yourself at him. i've seen the way you look at that motherfucker." mark says as he presses down on the gas peddle causing the car to jerk faster down the road. you looked towards the car's speedometer and was met with '100 mph' in bold, bright lettering. "mark slow down." you said as you stared at the speedometer and towards the outside of your window to see the dark sky and trees in a complete blur of speed. "mark slow down!" you cried out again. "just SHUT UP!" mark screamed out as he looked towards you with such intense anger in his eyes that you swore this man hates you from the way he is just treating you. you opened your mouth to say something but the next thing that you remember hearing was the sound of shattering glass and a gasp leave your lips, before your world goes completely black.

street racer! mark who groggily wakes up to intense bright lighting in his eyes, and he thinks that he simply left the lights on of his room again, until he starts to hear the slow beeping sounds around him.

street racer! mark who fully opens his eyes and takes in his surrounding to see that he is laying in a hospital bed, and his right arm is in a cast and a sling. he starts to wonder what happened, but all he can remember was the argument in the car with you and then everything went blank from there.

street racer! mark who gasps finally realizing that you were in the accident too and started to feel himself panic seeing that you weren't near him nor in the same room as him.

"you're finally awake." mark heard a voice say at the foot of his bed. mark looked towards the standing figure of his bed and recognized your best friend. he noticed the blood shot and puffy eyes she adored and couldn't help but assume the worst. "is she...is she—" "she's fine and thankfully very much alive, no thanks to you." she snaps as she gave him a look of pure disgust. mark rolls his eyes at her tone, but continues the conversation as if she never even spoke. "i want to go see her." he said as he tried to sit up but winces due to the sharp pain at his side. "you have bruised ribs, so i would lay down if i were you." she muttered as she sent daggers towards mark. "besides, i'm not letting you seeing her." she said as she crossed her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow towards him as if daring him to challenge her. "the fuck? i can see her if i want. you don't get a say in that!" mark said as he started to feel his anger get the best of him. "you are the reason she is in a hospital bed right now! you are the reason she has a fucking coma!" your best friend yelled out as she pointed an accusing finger towards him as she tried to hold back the tears that are stinging her eyes due to the pure anger she was feeling. "a c-coma?" mark said as he looked at her with wide eyes. "yeah, a coma. the doctors don't know when she will wake up...the chances are low."

street racer! mark who felt his entire self being shatter at the thought of you not remembering anything that has happened.

"a coma..." mark muttered to himself as he felt himself start to zone out due to the shock the news brought him.

ʚ a/n: to be completely honest with you, i wasn't really expecting to take it this way but i honestly like how it turned out because it adds a bit of drama to this fic and truly shows the persona i created for mark in this au. just wanted yall to go through what the reader goes through in seeing his true persona! lemme know your thoughts!!  

⭑𓂃taglist: @hyuckshinee @yesohhsehun @sfsrm-blog @rockstarhaechan

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Aussie Athletes

♥ masterlist

♥ pairing: oscar piastri x fem!sargeant!ballerina!reader

♥ smau - fluff

♥ a/n: I said I'd write some ballet fics so here's one lol. I'm going to write some ship fic ballet au's (drivers as ballet dancers) after I finish my folklore and Romeo and Juliet series'. Also! I'm performing a don quixote variation this weekend so wish me luck lol :) (none of the pictures are mine)

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yourusername First Day @/ausballet

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logansargeant congrats sis

yourusername <3

user14 she's in Australia now 🫢

user3 PLEASE let that mean she'll be at more races now

yourusername 👀

user5 💗💗💗

oscarpiastri welcome to Australia

landonorris trying to get a date on main?

logansargeant don't even think about it piastri

oscarpiastri ???

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

2023 British GP

You walked into the paddock bright and early to find your brother before he was busy with qualifying. You ended up running into a different, yet familiar face instead. 

“Oh, hey Oscar,” you smiled 

“Didn’t expect you to be here with your new Australian ballet career,” he smirked and took a sip of the water he had in his hand. “You don’t have a busy schedule? 

“I do, but the season wrapped last month. I figured I’d come down here and support Logan, you know? I’ve got a lot of training to do when I get back, though.” you laughed softly. 

Oscar hummed in an understanding response. 

“How’s it been there?” 

“Good,” you paused. “Tough, too.” 

“I’m sure it is. It’s an art and a sport.” 

“People don't really consider what I do “a sport”.”

“They say the same about racing.” 

“I guess we have something to bond over.”  you smiled.

You both heard Lando call Oscar's name, gesturing for him to go to their garage. Oscar gave an awkward, blush-filled goodbye and ran towards the Brit on the other side of the pit lane.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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yourusername he says I'm so american

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lilymhe top golf double date

yourusername we are so there

user7 WHO IS HE

user9 y/n x oscar crumbs

user2 crying and writing fics

logansargeant 😐

yourusername ...

user6 @/landonorris please tell us she's with oscar

user8 why would lando know?

landonorris 🤐

user8 @/user6 I'm sorry I wasn't familiar with your game, clearly Lando does know

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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yourusername opening night 🧡

logansargeant you did amazing 💐

user2 the orange heart...

user5 NOT a coincidence

user8 AND it's f1's winter break meaning Oscar is back home in Australia where it just so happens y/n dances at

user4 the pieces of the puzzle are finally coming together

ausballet our sugar plum fairy

yourusername <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Time Skip - 2024

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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yourusername MONACO <3

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charles_leclerc welcome to the piastri-leclerc family

yourusername I'm honored, thank you charles

oscarpiastri so when should she meet my brother leo?

user6 Y/N'S APART OF THE JOKE NOW 😭

user10 someone go get Nicole

user4 y/n l/n-piastri-leclerc

logansargeant don't break her heart

oscarpiastri I won't I swear

[dragonbarbie]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Part 1

aegon x best friend!reader ; modern!au

summary: this fic is snippets of aegon and reader's relationship as they grow up and discover new feelings. but to let himself be loved, aegon has to first do some growing up.

rating: 18+, minors dni.

tags: alcohol, substance abuse.

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist

next part

A/N: i'm so excited to share my first full fic! this series is very very lowkey inspired by one day and highkey inspired by peter by taylor swift. comment if you'd like to be on the taglist for this! hope you guys like it :)

divider credit @ cafekitsune!

Age 10

“I still don't see why we had to move here." a sullen, 10 year old Y/N replied, pouting as she stared out the window from the backseat. her father couldn't help an amused smile at the little girl as he drove towards her new school. "i told you darling, daddy’s got a very important new job here in king’s landing." "yes but why did I have to move here." the older man let out a patient sigh. this had been going on weeks leading to their move. "you haven't even given the city a chance yet, kiddo. why do you hate it already?" "because..." the little girl started with an exasperated whine. ".... i don't have any friends here!" "you have me." her father offered with an assuring grin. the unamused look he got in return was not grateful in the least. "you're dad. i want friends." the seriousness with which Y/N declared her dilemma earned her a laugh from the front seat.

her father pulled into the curb by the grand iron gates of Red Keep Academy, the best private school in the city. as Y/N hopped out the backseat, looking deflated, he lowered the car window, "hey c'mon now, you can't start your first day all sad. who knows, maybe you'll come back with a hoard of friends, even more than you had back home." Y/N only looked ahead at him, unconvinced. "bye, dad."

as she made her way towards the main archway to the school, she thought of all the things she was missing about home. not the new townhouse they had in the city, her real home, back in the reach. she thought of the swing behind her house, the smell from the bakery next door, the big oak tree she saw on the way to school every morning, the fountain in the park – when suddenly someone ran past her, fast enough to knock her down.

"ouch!" she cried out from the floor, rubbing her shoulder where she had been hit. "aegon!" a woman suddenly rushed to her side, glowering at the little boy who had pushed past her. "are you okay, honey? were you hurt?" the first thing Y/N noticed was how kind the woman looked with her big brown eyes, and so very pretty. "i'm okay." she reassured in a small voice, before turning to give this 'Aegon', the dirtiest look she could muster.

the boy had to be her age, pale blonde hair that looked like someone had tried to comb it but had not been given enough time to finish the job. he wore a matching school uniform to Y/N, navy blue blazer, white shirt and dark green pants. his shirt though was untucked and seemed to already have mud stains.

she thought he seemed mostly unbothered by his own actions, but stood there attempting to look sheepish nonetheless for his mother.

"apologise to this young lady." his mother demanded. "sorry..." he mumbled almost incomprehensibly. already upset and now physically hurt, Y/N wordlessly got up and hurried away, trying to stop hot tears from spilling out.

as she walked away she heard the boy's mother scold him, "that was not an apology, Aegon. go say sorry, properly this time." she heard a childish groan in response, "do I have to?".  his mother must have given him one hell of a look, Y/N thought because she heard her say nothing else but small footsteps came jogging up to her.

as the blonde boy walked next to her, she waited for him to say something while she kept walking ahead, but he seemed to just wordlessly fall in stride with her. After a minute he suddenly asked, “do you even know where you’re going?”

now that he mentioned it, she didn’t.

she suddenly stopped and looked around herself, confused. He stopped with her and studied her for a second. “I don’t know you.” He observed. “are you new?”. She decided to stay silent, hoping he would go away if she ignored him but she was wrong. When she didn’t respond, he continued, “you’re going in the wrong direction, new girl. That way –” he pointed to where she had been headed “—is the middle school building. Primary school is this way.” He started walking down a hallway, and Y/N took hurried steps to follow him.

He gave her a sideway glance, “what grade are you in anyway? Third?” he smugly asked, proudly looking down at her as a mature fifth-grader. “fifth.” She snapped at him. “oh”, he responded, surprised. “who’s class?” “Miss Reyne.” “no kidding!” he gave her a toothy grin. “so am I.”

Y/N didn’t like this Aegon, she decided. As he kept chatting away about how boring Miss Reyne was, she gave him no replies and generally walked as if she were alone and had no association with the silver haired boy beside her. As they settled into class, she was determined to avoid him for the rest of her day. Aegon though, was determined for quiet the opposite.

He took a seat next to hers, kept making comments, providing her a running, private commentary about each teacher and student. He wasn’t affected by Y/N’s lack of a response, or if he was, he didn’t let it show. Y/N had to admit though, he was funny. she couldn’t help but crack a smile when he told her about the time Jason Lannister got gum stuck in his hair, and had to suppress a giggle when Aegon impersonated Mr. Bolton falling asleep mid-way through teaching a class. At these small instances of Y/N’s guard breaking, he flashed her a bright smile, pleased with himself.

Y/N though, didn’t utter a word to him. Until Art class that was.

They had been asked to paint an animal, and when Y/N looked up from the goldfish she had been painting, she saw Aegon’s work. “a dragon isn’t a real animal.” She disproved. The boy merely shrugged, “that’s not an animal either, it’s a fish.”

“a fish is an animal.” She frowned at her work. “it’s just an animal under water.”

“oh well, let’s add some of its natural habitat then.” He smirked, grabbing the bowl of water they’d been sharing to clean their brushes. “NO! stop!” in an attempt to block him from pouring water on her work, the brush in her hand smeared some of the yellow paint on his face.

He froze in his action immediately, bringing up his fingers to feel the paint streak running down from his brow to across his nose. This time Y/N couldn’t suppress her laughter at the sight, his blinking expression making it all the more funnier. “well, if that’s how you want to do this!” he declared as he scooped some of the red paint on his two fingers before smearing it on her cheek.

Within five minutes, their respective art works had been abandoned and both sets of uniform utterly ruined. The two had to be separated by their teacher, then ordered to walk down to the washrooms and clean themselves right up.

The second she left the girls washroom though, Y/N found the silver haired boy waiting for her by the door, some green paint still visibly stuck in his pale locks. “race you to class?” he mischievously suggested. “Hmm” Y/N pretended to think about the challenge for a second, before saying “okay” and dashing towards their class.

With a self-satisfied smile at having beaten Aegon, she took her seat. Sulking at his defeat, Aegon slinked back in his chair, “you cheated, didn’t wait for the ‘go’…”

“win’s a win.” Y/N declared, grabbing golden glitter for her fish. 

He didn’t stay grumpy for long though, before she knew it he was back to his talkative self, this time with Y/N chiming in with her own comments. The hours flew by with Aegon by her side, and as the day came to an end Y/N realised she’d enjoyed herself after all.

As they walked towards the school gate to leave, Aegon suddenly changed the topic. “you like video games?” “yeah…?” she hesitantly replied. “great, you’re coming over tomorrow to play some.” He beamed. At the end of the sentence Y/N observed he hadn’t actually asked her a question. “okay.” She found herself agreeing.

“cool, see you tomorrow.” Aegon had started running in the direction of one of the cars, when he suddenly stopped and turned around. “never asked your name.” he sheepishly realised.

 “Y/N!” she distractedly answered as she sped up, having found her mom’s car in the parking lot.

“Y/N…” Aegon muttered to himself as he walked away, liking the way the name rolled of his tongue.

Age 15

“You’re late.” Y/N didn’t even bother to look up when she heard the window to her bedroom open, but did glance at the subsequent sound of someone falling face first onto her carpet. “have you been drinking? Its 2pm.”

Down on the ground laid her best friend of five years, with his messy platinum hair and stick-thin lanky limbs, carrying in the distinct smell of smoke when he entered her room. Though they were the same age, aegon looked more boyish still even as he had started to race towards every vice of the adult world he could get his hands on.

Aegon merely rubbed his now injured nose, as he lifted his head off the ground. “No I haven’t been drinking… still drunk from last night. Big difference.” Y/N sighed and shook her head in vexation before returning to her homework.  Aegon had recently taken up drinking and despite Y/N’s repeated rebukes, he seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much to stop. He continued to wave off her concern and she was starting to tire of voicing it.

“Let’s say I believed you… you wanna tell me what made you so late, then? I do have other things to do with my day than wait around to teach you biology, y’know.” Aegon grabbed a chair and dragged it to sit next to her at her desk. “I was actually busy being taught biology as it happens… albeit of a different kind.” His smug, self-satisfied grin as he pulled a cigarette from his front pocket  and placed it between his teeth, told Y/N all she needed to know. “Elinda Massey was the most enthusiastic of teachers.” Y/N couldn’t help but grit her teeth at the mention of Aegon’s latest distraction.

With a swift motion she grabbed the cigarette and threw it in the bin, ignoring his protests. “you know you’re not allowed to smoke in here, my parents would kill me if they smelled it.” Aegon snorted at the statement, “yeah but, that’s never stopped me before.” The casualness with which Aegon dismissed her, pinched Y/N. It was certainly true that Y/N usually found it hard to say no to Aegon, no matter how the consequences might harm her; but she didn’t like how he took the same for granted, as if it was a given.

“What’s got you all prissy today?”

“you. You wanna pass biology this year or not?” Y/N replied, visibly irritated. “yeah like there’s a chance in hell they’ll actually fail me. Grandfather would have the place shut within the week.” “then why do you even need a tutor? Go off with Elinda or whoever.” Y/N huffed, her eyes remaining trained so hard on her textbook that she was half certain she was going to burn holes into it, her hand clutching around the pencil in her hand.

“Elinda? That’s what you’re so annoyed about?” aegon snickered. Y/N turned to now glare directly into his blue eyes, a blush creeping up her cheeks and her nostrils flaring. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to push aegon right out the window he came from so she could be alone instead of having to deal with this. “No, I just think you’re wasting your time here right now, when you could be doing…. Biology with Elinda instead.” Aegon brow furrowed at her reaction, but instead of another retort his hand reached out to gently grab her arm. “hey…” his features softened from their usual impish nature to highlight his concern “…what’s actually up with you?” in the face of such kindliness from him, she couldn’t muster any more scathing replies.

He’d seen right through her, like only he could. For weeks now she’d been stressed, but found the topic too awkward to discuss with Aegon. But she knew she’d have to open up to him sooner or later about her problem. Keeping secrets from Aegon was simply not something she did. Or even possibly could if she tried, she thought.

“promise you won’t laugh.” She first demanded in a nervous tone. Raising his three fingers, her best friend solemnly confirmed, “scouts honour.” She swallowed, her eyes looking beyond Aegon’s shoulder rather than at him as she slowly admitted. “I’ve not had my first kiss.”

Aegon merely blinked back at her, “what, is there supposed to be more to that or…?” “I’ve not had my first kiss.” She repeated as if those words were supposed to be self-explanatory. “yeah and I’ve never been to the Summer Isles, what’re you on about?” Y/N couldn’t help a groan as she momentarily hid her face behind her hands, thinking the more she would explain herself the more embarrassed she would get.

“It’s just, I’m 15, and I should have had it by now, I’ve never even been on a date.. and… and… and you’ve got Elinda and Maria before that, and Jeyne and, and…. I just can’t believe you’ve gone to third base before I’ve even had my first kiss!” her words came out rushed in the end, out of frustration and a need to just get the shameful confession over with.

She had expected Aegon to laugh it off, or worse, agree that her situation was absolutely the height of shame. Instead, he looked confused that such a thing was bothering her in the first place “what, that’s it? why didn’t you just say so before?”

nonchalantly, aegon put an arm behind Y/N’s chair. Eyes closed, he suddenly leaned in towards her, lips puckered, causing her eyes to go wide. “what the –” as a reflex response she pushed back at his shoulders, making him fall of the chair.

“the fuck was that for!” he shouted from the floor, his ego and back bruised.  “why did you try to kiss me?” Y/N was shocked, horrified even, at the prospect. Aegon was her best friend, she couldn’t even imagine looking at him in that light. it was Aegon, he was simply too familiar for her.

Aegon raised his hands out as if the answer was obvious. “you said it yourself you wanted to have your first kiss!”. Y/N’s nose scrunched up, “not with you!”.

“well how was I supposed to get that! Fuck me, I’ll never understand you women”

“‘you women?’” at that, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. This scene before her, this response by her best friend was too ridiculous. Yet, she noted as she offered a hand to help him back up which he grumblingly took, this was very much in character for Aegon. She knew he always wanted to help her, he might not have always understood how to go about it, but his heart was in the right place.

“I don’t need you to fix it, aegon.” She affably told him, a faint grateful smile on her face for her friend’s valiant effort nonetheless. “yeah, no-shit, because there’s nothing to fix. You’re not broken, Y/N.” Y/N didn’t know that she needed to hear those words until Aegon said it and it felt as if a burden was lifted off her shoulders.

“Don’t get me wrong. Doing all this, the kissing and the more-than-kissing, it’s fun. Honestly it’s so, so much fun, like I can’t even—” “you wanna get to your point?” “–so it’s great and all but, not doing it doesn’t mean you’re any less for it. You’re still Y/N, you’ll always still be Y/N to me.”

The anxiety she had been feeling, the fear of being left behind and the worry about other’s judgement, even her own – it all started to look so small and insignificant when Aegon told her she was still the same to him. This was her only constant in life, this bond between her and Aegon, the one person she couldn’t hide who she was from. In that moment, she felt glad to have him by her side.

“Besides if you were ever truly that desperate, you could always just try Jace. he’s had a thing for you like forever” Aegon revealed, rolling his eyes in apparent annoyance of the fact. Y/N though, couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Jace… has a thing for me?” The thought of it seemed to please her, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as a red blush started to creep onto her cheeks once more.

Aegon looked disgusted at her response, and grimaced, “yeah okay, no need to flatter yourself too much …. It’s Jace.” He stuck his tongue out at the distaste of the thought of his best friend with his nephew. Y/N didn’t pay him any attention, having taken to doodling hearts in the margins of her notebook while engrossed in thought. Aegon immediately regretted having said anything, snatching the notebook from under her hand, “alright are we going to do some biology or what?”

Age 17

Y/N had been fast asleep when the familiar sound of pebbles against her window awoke her. she looked at the time on the watch as it read 2:17 am, quickly rising from her bed. there was only one person who had to be out there, and she knew why too. her heart sank, knowing already that aegon must have had another fight with his father. she opened the window and as expected, aegon targaryen precariously balanced his steps on the tree branch just outside.

"aegon, what are you doing? It's late," she whispered-shouted, trying not to wake her parents but already held out a hand to help him in. "Needed to see you," he slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol. She wanted to chide him for endangering himself by climbing up so high when he’d drunk so much, but looking at his condition she decided to stay quiet. He climbed into her room, stumbling slightly as he landed. Y/N caught his arm, steadying him. "You've been drinking again," she said, more as a statement than a question.

aegon’s normally sparkling blue eyes were unfocused, his silver hair dishevelled. He'd grown taller of late, she missed the days when she could stand shoulder to shoulder with him. she now had to look up at him, as she put one of his arms around her shoulder to guide him towards the bed as his own steps fumbled.

“He doesn’t get it, Y/N. None of them do. To him, nothing i've done or will do matters for shit. i'm just not the son he wanted. he regrets me, i can see it in his eyes, I—”  a sob escaped his throat, cutting him off mid-sentence.

She gently sat him down on the edge of her bed, his weight pressing down on the soft mattress.  As she looked into his sad, bloodshot eyes, she harboured such hatred for Viserys as she thought impossible for anyone else to hold. she kneeled down in front of him, her heart breaking to see him so.

"I know, i know. But you can’t keep doing this, aegon. If you keep drinking like this, you could seriously hurt yourself one of these days." and she didn't think she could survive that.

she reached out to hold his hands in her own. "You don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you. Always." if aegon heard her, he gave no indication, instead staring at their intertwined hands.

"can I crash here tonight?" he suddenly asked, looking more innocent than she'd ever seen him as he lifted his eyes to look up at her. Gone was the bravado and arrogance that was usual of him, even expected. In that moment he looked more lost than ever, and was looking to her as if she was his only hope for shelter.

she knew her parents wouldn't be thrilled about this impromptu sleepover, but then again she'd never had the ability to deny him anything. "of course," she tenderly smiled.

he kicked off his shoes and moved back up the bed, still holding onto her hand, pulling her with him. he lied down on her pillow, refusing to let go of her hand as he closed his eyes to fall asleep. he looked so peaceful, Y/N couldn’t help but reach out her free hand to run it through his hair in admiration. She wasn’t blind, she knew how handsome he looked, causing the girls to flock to him like moths to a flame. But his looks were just an objective fact to her, she never found herself attracted to him in the same way as the girl at school. But somehow in the pale moonlight, he looked more beautiful than she’d ever seen him, and it caused her chest to swell overwhelmingly.

she looked down to notice he'd opened his eyes again. "Don't leave," he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"I won't" she promised, pulling the blanket over them both. he nodded in satisfaction of her reply, nestling against the crook of her neck, his breathing evening out as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

Sleep evaded Y/N though, on the one hand she was wracked with worry over Aegon and his drinking habits, on the other.... she could feel his breath tickling her neck, as his one hand held her own while his other wrapped around her waist, his feet entangled with hers. his body pressed to her own under the covers, making the cramped space on her single bed too hot. Aegon had never been this physically close to her, this vulnerable. she thought how his safe space, the place he ran to when he wanted an escape was her, same as he was for her. it had always been this way, yet, in the darkness of the night she sensed something had shifted between them. she couldn't name it yet, though.

The next morning, when the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains, aegon stirred. He blinked, confusion clouding his eyes at his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the familiar face inches from his own "Y/N?" Y/N merely hummed in response, only now starting to stir awake. "what... how did i get here?" he asked looking around the room, startled. He lifted his head as he realised he was all but laid out on top of her, before moving away to lay on his back. He looked down to find his hand had cramped from holding onto hers all night, immediately releasing it. Y/N rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she responded, "what d'you mean?"

"i mean what am i doing in your bed at the crack of dawn." aegon looked earnestly confused, Y/N realised, which worried her.  "You came here last night," she slowly replied, watching his face carefully. "You were drunk. Do you remember?"

aegon frowned, rubbing his temples. "No... I don't." he suddenly looked at Y/N, "Did I do something... did we...?" he motioned to the space between them, his brow raised. Y/N sat up from her bed in alarm, "oh, no, nothing. of course not." she reassured him. she tried not to look too wounded at his relieved expression "good, good." he nodded, staring up at the ceiling.

"you had a fight with your dad and wanted to crash here. do you not remember coming up here last night?" "I don't remember anything really. last thing I do remember is opening one of the bottles from the wine cellar and then" he shrugged. Y/N frowned at his response, "Aegon, have you started blacking out?” her stomach tied itself in knots, feeling anxiety over this new development. But she felt as if she was the only one who understood the gravity of the situation.

she searched for any fear in aegon’s eyes, but only found apathy and disinterest. he seemed unconcerned, merely rolling onto his side and closing his eyes, lazily stretching himself out to get comfortable to fall back asleep.

“do you understand what that means? it means this is getting dangerous. This is no longer all for a good time, Egg.” She attempted again, this time raising her voice to catch his attention. It seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"wake me up for lunch, yeah?" he yawned, drifting back to slumber within minutes.

A wave of anger washed over her, she wanted to knock him off her bed or  hit him with a pillow in frustration over his own self-destructive ways. Did he not understand the ending he was currently headed towards? Did he not care how this going to affect him, affect her? She was tired of being the only safety harness keeping him held back when all he seemed to want to do was jump into the abyss.

“fucking… suit yourself.” She stormed off the bed to head out of her room, shutting the door behind her loudly.

[plutolovesyou]

how soon is now? | part one

READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸

teasers: one. two. series masterlist. next part here!!

♡: hallway crush!ellie x uni student!reader

☆: listen, i know this timeline is kind of ridiculous, but i’ve organized it all best as i can! this is the expanded story based on those first little blurbs introducing the au (reads fine on its own though), and this part specifically was originally going to be one huge fic, but i've ultimately decided to split it up and drop the first part now, because i feel like it ends in a convenient enough space where i can make a separation not so jarring. so that means this will have a direct continuation (how soon is now? 2 ? lol this is so stupid-), and that will be posted soon enough once i finish it! but yes that means after so much waiting, it's finally here for y’all. i literally thought up this silly idea right before i passed out on new years, and never expected y’all to love it so much…but i keep my promises, so here. also love the smiths and felt the title sort of fit. i feel like not too much happens but eh anyway, thank you for waiting, thank you for reading, and please enjoy!

♧:4.6k word count

◇:suggestive but not explicit - horny descriptions and tension, however no smut (for now?….BUT DON'T HOLD ME TO THAT.) no descriptions of reader’s physical appearance, no use of “y/n”, slow-burn construction and loooooads of pining, a lot of build up but stay with me, attempts at occasional foreshadowing, smau elements(text messages lmao), savage starlight is a plot point lol, hallwaycrush!ellie is sort of a mix of loser/modern/university au/dorky-ish ellie I DON'T EVEN KNOW. abby is your bestie, girl what else do i put here- this is just kinda plot, plot, and more plot progression about the whole ordeal, and me indulging my obsession with modern!ellie. (lmk if there's anything to be added!)

“Abbyyyyyyyyyy.” 

You rolled around your lifelong best friend’s bed, babbling her ear off while she studied away at her desk, or tried to at least. This situation has been a daily occurrence for weeks at this point.

Laying on your stomach facing away from her, you could hear her scoff in annoyance. “What?” “Please give me some advice..I don't know what I'm even supposed to do. She's driving me up the wall." This crush was the sole thing occupying your poor mind, so naturally, you had to drown your bestie with your troubles as well. That's what friends do. Abby spun around on her chair to face you, with a clearly fed up expression on her face, and leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. 

“Well I don’t fucking know man, I’ve already given you my best advice, and that's either introduce yourself, or suffer.” She said coolly. You sat up and groaned. Wasn't there an easier way? One that didn't involve actually taking initiative and doing something? Maybe, hypothetically, you ace a test, and the professor announces it in front of everyone as he emotionally congratulates his star student, and she bounds over, beaming. Then tearfully confesses her love and admiration for you- hold on, where the fuck is this going?

“Oh come on, you know I can’t do that..” You gulped a burning bundle of anxiety down as you replayed the scenarios with your obsession for the thousandth time that day, the mere crumbs you were forced to fixate on until you saw her next, the first sighting that started this whole fiasco,  and shook your head to clear it and listen to what your best friend had to say. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, slamming her textbook shut and making her way over to sit next to you.

“Listen babe, I love you, but you really gotta get ahold of yourself, alright?” She spoke sternly, looking you straight in the eyes to make sure you understood and absorbed every last word she said. “Listen, here's what you're gonna do. when you pass her in the hall, smile, it's simple but it's a classic, okay? And then you listen to the lecturer as normal, right? I have no idea what you nerds do in astrophysics, but that's besides my point. Make sure to pay attention and not stare only at her like a stalker or something, I cannot stress enough how normal you gotta be. But here's where it gets good, you still with me?” 

You're listening to her for sure, and nod vigorously. Crystal clear. She continues, “Okay you said you sit as far as possible from her? Sheesh, why'd you do that? When the class is over I want you to go over to her, and introduce yourself. Catch her on her way out, tap her on the shoulder if you're feeling bold. Ask for some of her contact details, play it cool. Just don't shit yourself, got it? All you gotta do." 

Abby finishes her speech, smirking and looking smug. She's positive she got through to you this time. On the surface you're totally chill, confident even, ready to snatch this ethereal being for yourself, however underneath all that you knew you didn't have an ounce of the courage that was required for this seemingly impossible task. 

Breathing deeply to calm yourself and try to take in her helpful words as best as possible, you give Abby a hug. “Thank you Abs, really. I'll do my best. Oh, but what if I freak out and start stuttering- or what if I trip and fall on her…I can't do this what the hell.” Swarmed with worry, you start doubting yourself yet again. Burying your face in your palms, you feel two strong hands on either side of your upper arms and you look back at Abby, who's really not playing around anymore. 

She was so serious about this it almost scared you. Either she cared about you more than anything, or she wanted to hear the end of these pathetic, lovestruck rambles. You prayed it was the former. 

“Suck it up. You can do this. You've had crushes before haven't you? This should be a piece of cake c’mon, I believe in you. Make sure to keep me updated every step of the way! I need to hear every last detail.” She lightens up at the end and releases you from her grip once she sees you've relaxed. 

Unsurprisingly, your best friend always knew what to say to snap you out of your spirals. Maybe most would disagree with her methods, say she was being rough, but they worked for you. Heart rate returning to a normal pace, you reply genuinely. 

“Okay, okay I got this. Yeah, it'll be fine.” She was getting through to you, this time you felt sure of it. “Good, good. Now will you let me finish this stupid assignment? Then we can watch something or do whatever." Abby chatted as she got up and sat back at her desk, resuming her studious endeavor as she left you with your thoughts. 

Immediately you heard her mutter, “All this and you don't even know her goddamn name…good grief.” For the sake of preserving the peace you chose to graciously ignore that one. She said she wanted some quiet, didn't she? 

Drifting away into a sea of daydreams, your thoughts inevitably returned to being clouded by this cryptic figure. It was like she'd cast a love spell on you. Did she even know who you were? Or did she shoot everyone those insufferably charming looks of hers. Was she even aware of how fucking cool she was? 

Dressed in that deliciously grungy style, you yearned to know what floated behind her greener-than-grass eyes. Her hair looked so smooth and soft, the wispy auburnette strands framing her refined features, intriguing fern tattoo decorating her lean forearm…. You felt your cheeks begin to heat up as a portrait of her materialized in your mind's eye. Nestling into the comfortable atmosphere of your best friend's room, you sunk deeper into your thoughts.

Like Abby had mentioned, it certainly wasn't as if you've never had crushes before, you've certainly had your fair share of them, like most people. But that was a sort of flaky, surface level interest, whether it be for their looks, their little quirks, or ways they treated you. Maybe it has been a while since you'd had a proper crush, but you couldn't recall a time when the infatuation, the pure limerence, had hit you this hard before. You almost felt helpless, just besotted by her.

You simply needed to act on this. Right then and there you steeled yourself, and decided you were going to follow Abby's advice after all, and go after this hallway crush. Worst comes to worst, she turns you down, you get over it eventually, bla bla end of story. It wasn't going to be too complicated, right?

You and Abby had stayed up all night, dusk till dawn, gossiping about things other than your hallway crush, shocking, and you were greatly regretting that decision the very moment it was time to gather your books and get to class.

You really did not feel like stunning everyone around you with a gorgeous outfit today, you were just trying to make it through the day in one piece to be honest with yourself. 

With a pounding headache you threw on some mismatched sweats, and ran out the door to be on time. Your bag felt unreasonably heavy as you made your way down your apartment stairs, and you cursed your past self for choosing a building without an elevator. Sure, exercise is healthy, but it can’t be when you’re feeling like a zombie, and wish for nothing more than a good, long nap.

Luckily the lecture hall was a comfortable distance away from your place, not far enough to make it a pain, but enough so you could get a much needed breath of fresh air. The tiredness had pushed all plans of action you and Abby had discussed the previous night to the back of your head, and you weren't thinking of your crush at all. At least for now. 

Walking slowly with your gaze pointed downward, you eventually made it to the hall. Completely dazed and zoned out, you made a mental note to never pull an all nighter again, gross, who’s idea was that- thump. 

Out of nowhere you're rudely jolted from your silent sulking by colliding with something, or someone? It takes a moment to register what happened, and you quickly look up from staring at the ground to sort the situation out. “Oh my gosh I am so sorry..” 

Profusely apologizing while simultaneously being smacked across the face with the realization of who this was. Her. Your words trail off as you’re suddenly winded, and you feel your blood run cold. You’re transfixed by the intense eye contact, and it feels like time has stopped. Goodness, this is dramatic. 

In the time it takes for you to briefly die and come back to life, the young woman has lowered her chunky headphones so they rest around her neck, Morissey’s vocals faintly floating out of them, and is looking at your stunned state with an indiscernible sneer playing on her face. Was this actually happening? Holy shit you and Abby did not discuss this scenario…you weren’t looking where you were going and had collided with an actual Earth angel. Great.

Still gawking at her like an absolute buffoon, akin to a deer in headlights, she breaks the tension first, with a smooth voice that you would obey virtually any command for. 

“Nah, you’re good.” And a wink. Your heart skipped a beat, or four, when you witnessed her wink at you. Did you imagine it? Was she being suave on purpose or did she have an eyelash in her eye…Was your life a literal rom-com or what? 

“Um..” Your mouth opens and closes in an attempt to form a coherent sentence, but your brain is much too fried to do so because, well, you had just made physical contact with the literal girl of your dreams. And gods did she smell good…while you’re unable to tear your eyes away from hers, she keeps talking as if nothing happened.

“I think the prof had an emergency or fuckin’, I dunno.” She stops to gesture around the two of you at the crowd that had formed in front of the auditorium’s double doors with elegant, ring adorned fingers..holy fuck you needed those inside you right fucking now- WHAT. 

Briskly shoving those thoughts down to the deepest depths of your subconscious back to where they belong, you turned your attention back to her, and put on a brave front. Hyper aware of how searing hot your face felt, her pretty self didn't show a hint of caring that you were making a fool of yourself. They say that any situation is always worse in your head than it was in actuality, well you hoped so. 

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” Clearing your throat you managed a sentence back, hooray. You were doing this. Good job. Although, of course, before the gorgeous nymph before you had a chance to respond with her own assumptions, a substitute lecturer you had never seen before pushes his way through the crowd and unlocks the door while people file in, separating you from her. You felt like Rose, viciously torn away from Jack from Titanic, what a cruel, cruel world this was.

And once again you didn't get to ask her name. Re-slinging her bag with one arm, she looks back at you one final time and throws you a “cya around.” Before disappearing into the auditorium with everyone else. You meekly nod at her and force a lopsided smile, before leaning against the wall to steady yourself after that fiasco in the now empty hallway.

Wasting virtually not a moment of time, you pulled your phone out and began furiously texting Abby with a recount of the events at a speed faster than the speed of light. 

Once that excruciatingly torturous class was over, you applauded yourself for containing the stares in her direction and keeping your eyes fixated on the professor. Whether you actually retained any information, now that was a different story. Picking up your bags and laptop, you stay behind for a moment as everyone else files out, no need to crowd and suffocate amongst the other students, and you had nowhere to be except catch up on your favorite shows and relax all by yourself. 

Filing out the auditorium with everyone else, you see a familiar face pass by you, and vaguely hear Abby’s voice in your head urging you to seize the moment. Now’s your chance, go! And so you gather every little bit of strength you possess to do just that. 

After a couple deep breaths you jog up to her. “Uh, hey.” She turns around and gives you a warm smile, making your legs instantly turn to jelly. You subtly checked her out and took in her outfit, another bulky jacket and lightly distressed jeans. Fingers studded with layered silver rings, and those big ole headphones seemed to be magnetically attached to her, she always had them on her. Note to self: ask for some music recommendations.

She was even hotter up close…with a beautiful galaxy of freckles scattered across her fair skin, you wanted to place a kiss on every single of them. “I, um, never caught your name.” “It's Ellie.” She sticks out her hand for a handshake and you accepted it, you finally had a name to the face you've been pining over so intensely for so long. Abby was going to lose it once you tell her about this. You steady your voice and hide the glee that was likely evident from this interaction going so smoothly, and introduce yourself to her as well.

After some time of idle chit chat and standing there, neither one of you knowing really what to say, Ellie pipes up, facepalming, tsking, and furrowing her brows. “Oh yeah, I don’t mean to spring this on you outta nowhere, but would you wanna study sometime?” She flushes a dusty pink, “I don't know anyone else taking this course and am having kind of a hard time with it...when I chose it, I expected it to be more about space and the planets, and less about numbers and math, my head hurts.”

Her demeanor was making you feel rather comfortable with her, even though the two of you had just formally met a few minutes prior. “I would love to, yeah!” Maybe you were being a little too enthusiastic, but at this point you were operating on pure instinct and not thinking critically of what was coming out of your mouth. “I actually don't have any plans now, or today at all, so if you want to, we can get a head start before the next class?” Well that just slipped out. Go you, blurting things out. 

You had no idea why you'd said that because your place was an absolute mess, clothes strewn everywhere, trash can still full, you'd been too preoccupied with your studies, and well her, to do much about it. To your horror, Ellie exclaims, “Hey, that's perfect! I don't have anything to do right now either, and it would be good to act on it while it's still fresh in my mind, y’know?” Her face morphs into an adorable toothy grin as she taps on her skull comically, you were becoming more obsessed by the second, if that was even possible.

Every little sliver of her personality you got to see under the stoic one you had assumed she had just grasped at your heartstrings. You smiled back at her so hard you almost pulled a muscle in your cheeks, “Awesome! Follow me, then, my dorm isn't far.”

The walk there was mostly fine as the two of you made it to your place, Ellie occasionally making comments about how she hates the class even though she adores outer space and learning about it on her own time, and you were nodding and acting as if you're listening, agreeing with her robotically while she rambled away and you daydreamed about what her lush lips would feel like on yours. You wondered if she was gentle with it, or if she’d kiss you hungrily, devour you like her very last meal….gulp.

Leading her to your place was an automatic task, not much navigation needed, and when the journey was done you had to legitimately stop short for a moment in an attempt to soothe the pounding in your chest. 

The crush that has plagued your mind for ages, who you've just met formally today, was about to be in your room. The two of you were about to be alone. That was totally fine, yeah, she can't be a murderer…..right?

“You good?” She asked sweetly, why did she have to be so nice, “Those stairs were killer, I totally get it, phew.” “Oh for sure, gets me every time.” Covering up your panic smoothly, you unlocked the door and went inside with her. When she walked inside, Ellie took a glance around your room and set herself down at the edge of your bed, immediately making herself comfortable, while you still lingered in the doorway, awkwardly swaying and staring at her, unsure of what to do with yourself. 

Suddenly you had completely forgotten why she was here in the first place. “No way, you read Savage Starlight too???” She spotted the figurine on your desk and snatched it up in her hands to inspect it thoroughly, with a childlike wonder in her eyes. “Wow, this one was a limited edition and it sold out in like an hour, I'm so jealous you got this!! How much you want for it, I'm serious.” She was so excited, and you couldn't believe it. Savage Starlight has always been one of your favorite comics ever, you've loved it since you were a young teen, and now this seemingly perfect human before you, who you're hopelessly obsessed with says she loves it too? Could she get any more flawless, is all you could wonder.

Her happiness because of this little thing you two bonded over was infectious, and some of your nerves slowly began to go away.  Grinning genuinely, you sheepishly said, “I've never met anyone else who likes it, that story has helped me through lots of phases in my life, and Daniela was my gay awakening.” Ellie gaped at you for a beat, making you almost doubt revealing that information.

“No. Fuckin’. Way. Mine too! Her suit was just- damn. And those action scenes in the third volume had my thirteen year old self’s brain just mush for, I don't even know for how long. This is crazy, I can already see we’re gonna get along so well.”

You wanted to talk to her about everything and anything forever, and her glee made you want to squish her, but there was unfortunately work to be done first. “There’s so much we have to discuss, but we gotta get some studying done first if we wanna make it out of this course alive.”

You were sitting at your desk, hunched over the sprawled out textbooks and messy notes, as you drew the graphs and talked to her about the concepts she was struggling with. Your desk was so small and you only had one chair, and you were the one using it, so Ellie was forced to hover over you to see all you were doing.

Focusing solely on the subject before you was proving to be more difficult as studying time went by, because you were a little too aware of the way she had caged you in against the desk to watch, her oversized shirt grazing your upper back. You gripped your pen ever so tightly to minimize any trembling, and kept a steady voice as best you could while explaining it all.

She was so, so close, the tension in the tiny room was palpable, she didn't seem to notice your nervous tremors or the proximity she’d created, and the low murmurs of, “ohhh, mhm, yeah,” as you embarrassingly stammered over your explanations made you flushed and to be frank, needy. You could feel her warmth radiating off of her, could faintly hear her breathing just above you. You didn't dare move a muscle. Was she feeling this too?

At this point you swore the delicious gravelly vibrations from her voice this close to you would be plenty enough to make you cream your pants. The air in the enclosed space was getting hotter and thicker by every passing moment, it took everything you had to keep yourself from losing your mind right now. If you moved back a petty few inches, you’d be pressed flush with her front. What would that be like, you wondered. Oh, no. Your throat felt drier than the desert when you swallowed, the thought of that making you weak.

Since your focus on the work was lapsing, you were beginning to make some little mistakes and blunders, compelling her to take the pen right from your hand and fix them herself. “No, no, this one’s supposed to be like this instead, see? Then you're able to get the right answer which is…” She stretches over you further, you nearly whined, someone save you, and grabs the textbook to review the solution. “Like this, yeah, I was right. Honest mistake though, don’t worry about it.”

You nod your head and make a pathetic murmur of approval, ignoring the fiery tingles spreading all the way up your arm when her hand bumps yours to return the writing utensil, and the blistering coil of want forming in your stomach. This all had to be deliberate, right? She couldn't lack that much spatial awareness, could she? Well, it wasn’t that you minded, she could get as close as she damn wanted to, you'd let her throw you around like a ragdoll even- you were just afraid your heart was going to give out if she kept it up. “Could you show me this work you guys did? Of course the one day I'm late, the prof talks about something new and I miss it.” 

What feels like an eternity later, you hear her groan above you and she returns to her earlier spot on your bed. You can finally breathe properly. Glancing at the clock, your own headache begins to set in. Crap it was late, how time flies. 

“We’ve been studying for so long, it’s getting late.” “Shit, you’re right, I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome. Sorry about that, and hey, thanks for this. I understand it all a lot better now, see you tomorrow.”

She stands up abruptly and ushers herself out of your door in a flash, to which you clumsily stand up, knock your chair over, and hastily run after her, not wanting her to go just yet. “Wait, Ellie!” “What's up, did I forget something?”

She pats her pockets and looks at you with concern. Round puppy dog eyes, and lips in a miniscule pout, so cute. You were in front of her now, but did not process what you actually wanted to say. Just ran after her like the smitten nincompoop you are. Upon feeling your face go hot, you look at the ground to mutter, “Uh- nothing. See you later.” Realistically, what were you planning on saying, or doing?

After stumbling over your words you two finally part ways and you slump down against your door, missing her presence already. You simultaneously wanted to jump around or open your bedside table drawer to release the energy you'd accumulated, and wanted to fall into the deepest sleep of your life to recuperate from the experience. This was just, a lot. You wanted to scream and screech like there's no tomorrow, but did not want to deal with noise complaints from the others living on your floor. Gosh she was so close, she shares your niche interest, your hands touched, albeit accidentally, lo and behold you were in love with her.

Maybe it was early to call it that, but you were going to plan out your future together. Preferably a quaint, peaceful farmhouse, the one you two lovebirds renovated together exactly how you envisioned, where you could ogle her doing the farmwork. Ugh. Cook all her favorite meals, make sweet, sweet love under the moonlight. Take strolls through the flower gardens you two planted, receive her curated bouquets as gifts, you two are going to have such a tender, domestic life. 

You had to mull it over some more, and didn’t dare wish to forget how close she was to you, you were still buzzing from her essence. You were pointlessly pacing around your room now, unable to stop looping the study session's events in your head. The simplicity, the eroticism of the encounter. One-sided or not, you had yet to find out more about her, the impatience was going to take over. The day almost seemed too good to be true, but for now you had to force yourself to relax and think about something other than her. Time to browse Pinterest with striking kitchen ideas for your beautiful future. 

What were you going to say to her the next time you see her? You were eager to know how, or if at all, this new friendship was going to progress. Part of you was dying of impatience, but the rest of you wanted to take it all as slow as possible, savoring every little moment and making the most of it. 

You sighed, this was going to be a long, long, year.

lovely taggies: @amiorca @mostlyhornyandsad @lasting-lover @radioheadfan699 @sophie-thefrog8 @machetegirl109 @ellieschair @aouiaa @wavesgocrash @tangerinngi @elliesbitchvenus @dinaissoprettyoml @rxreaqia @camicocom1a @elliesexual @ellslvr @boobdrug @writing-on-a-bathroom-stall @bready101 @yourelliewillms

.......really hoping this doesn't flop because it isn't smutty, yall wanted more fics that are plot soooo

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | one.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 4.2k

—warnings: cussing/mature language, this is gonna start off kinda slow but i promise it'll get spicier lol, say hello to the rest of the professors in this fic ouweeee 🤪, some general bioengineering research terms, very vague mentions of mice research work, more of a glimpse into the yunho x san x iseul dynamic

—a/n: i'm also working on wooyoung's mini series so pls check it out! the next update will prob go up soon! ily <33

"Did you figure out your rotation for this quarter?" You walk alongside Jiung as you head to the Harvey Center, where Professor Choi's lab is located. Both you and Jiung had just finished up walking around campus to get your steps in, but to also check out the classrooms for all your upcoming classes this quarter and pick up books at the bookstore. Most of your classes were in familiar buildings, while two were entirely new. 

"Yeah, I gotta meet with one more professor then I think I can send off my final decision." You nod. Jiung is holding his bag of books and yours, not wanting you to haul them around campus with how heavy they can get.

"That's good."

"Yeah, hope so." He repeats. "Are you meeting with the other professors this week just to see if you wanna rotate in any of them instead?"

"Mhm. All in one week. I guess it makes it easier on me since I don't have to wait on anyone. I can decide by end of the week."

"Are you seeing them in person?"

"Just Professor Choi and Professor Kim. Everyone else said Zoom." Jiung nods.

"Wow, Professor Kim in person?"

"I heard he really values in person meetings." You chuckle. "Which is nice? Maybe it's cause he's the department chair."

"That, too. He just seems like that kinda person, though. He's super active in all the events."

"Truth." 

"Did you like rotating in Professor Bahng's lab last quarter?"

"I did. He was really cool. People in his lab are cool, too. I just.. I don't know? I didn't have a specific project I could focus on. Felt like I'd have trouble fitting myself in there and finding something to work off of. Everyone was great though, don't get me wrong. Just didn't click for me." 

"Makes sense. You wanna be happy and feel like you can thrive somewhere."

"Yeah, exactly. Plus, after talking to Sunwoo and Belle, I think my interests lie more in Professor Choi's lab." You look down at the bags before looking at the Harvey Center ahead of you. "You know you don't have to wait for me, Jiung. You can go to the apartment if you want."

"Nah, I'll wait. I don't have shit to do anyway." You swing the front doors open and Jiung instantly plops down on a free chair near the lobby doors. "I'll be here."

"Shit, I just realized I think his office is downstairs in the basement. I don't know if I have access."

"Where's Sunwoo or Belle?" You quickly pull out your phone and try to dial Sunwoo or Belle to help you. Unlucky for you though, none of them answer.

"I guess they aren't here for the day yet. They didn't pick up." You sigh. "Why didn't I think about this early on?!"

"Relax. It's fine! Poke your head around, I'm sure someone is there to let you in." You pucker your lips in dismay, hoping it doesn't cause any issues and make you late for your meeting. You should've asked for assistance in the first place, but it kinda blew over your head when Professor Choi responded quicker than you expected.

"Welp. Let's hope I don't fuck this up already." Jiung pats your head.

"You won't." You wave to him before heading into the elevators, down to the basement level of the building. It's quiet, and you don't see many people walking around despite it being close to 10am. As you approach the door to the basement, you peek into the window to try and catch a glimpse of anyone passing by in the visible hallway. To your luck, the hallway is dead and there doesn't seem to be any moving heads in any of the nearby lab rooms. You let out a sigh and take out your phone, wondering if you should just email Professor Choi to ask for assistance.

No, maybe someone will pass by in the next 5 minutes.

Give it 5 more minutes, then panic and email.

You tippytoe and peek through the window once more, muttering small curses to yourself for being so unprepared with your meeting. Now, he's probably going to think you can't—

"Y/N?" You turn to see Professor Choi behind you with a soft smile on his face. He's dressed in a grey turtleneck, black slacks and boots— large silver square-shaped frames sitting on the bridge of his nose. He has his hands in his pockets, a heavy leather bag slung on his shoulder. You're surprised he even knows it's you; then again, who else would be peeking into the basement at this time?

"Oh my god, hi—sorry." You pause, slightly embarrassed having Professor Choi catch you looking through the door's window the way you were. "I just realized I didn't have basement access so I was trying to see if anyone was around before bothering you."

"All good. Perfect timing, hm?" He taps his badge against the reader and swings the door open. "After you." You give him a curt bow as a thank you, slowly walking into the basement hallway. San trails behind you, and he takes note of the way you're dressed. You're in some wide-leg white jeans, a cream colored vest and some black platform loafers. It's cute, really. He gives you another toothless smile when you stop in your tracks and wait for him to lead the way. Hopefully, he didn't catch your eyes when you quickly skimmed his outfit again— he was tall and he was well-built, it was very obvious with that turtleneck he had on. He smells of a woody cologne, mixed with notes of jasmine and patchouli. It's not overbearing, but it definitely makes its presence known next to you. "How's your day been?" He asks and you just nod.

"It's been alright. I just went to pick up my books at the book store, explored around campus to make sure I knew where my classes were at. There's a few buildings I haven't had class in."

"That's good. Getting prepared for the quarter well I see." 

"Trying to, at least." He chuckles as he does an abrupt turn to the right and swings a door open. You follow him into another office space, where desks are lined up amongst each other. You find a few people sitting around, typing away on their desktops. It's too bad Sunwoo or Belle wasn't around. You'd probably feel a bit less nervous seeing their faces before the meeting.

"What's up, Professor Choi!" One of his lab members calls out. San does a quick nod and throws up a wave just as he unlocks his office door and steps inside. 

"Come in." He holds the door open for you once again. "Sorry it's a bit messy. I'm all over the place with these progress reports and finalizing class details."

"No worries! Honestly doesn't look messy to me." You look around seeing a stack of papers on his desk. Otherwise, everything is neat. He's got all his awards framed up and lined along the back wall. Books on shelves near his desk. A couch off to the side wall with two small pillows. A small coffee table. A mini fridge. Two chairs for guests at his desk. It's roomy, but not super roomy.

It smells like his cologne.

"Have a seat." He pulls out one of the two chairs directly in front of his desk. You sit and place your bag down on the ground, fixing yourself as Professor Choi sets his bag down and sits at his computer chair. "Gotta apologize again, it's my first meeting of the day so I don't have everything out and ready."

"No need to apologize, I get it." You chuckle and he smiles. 

"Your CV was really impressive." He says as he's pulling up said CV. He's looked at it enough times to have a photographic memory of it, which is the first for him. Right away, he can tell you'd work well in his lab. You have a good head on your shoulders, smart. Can contribute a lot. He just knows sometimes.

"Thank you." You smile and it makes San's smile grow bigger. 

"So, why do you wanna explore those areas? Tell me a little bit more about your experience with everything. Computational analysis, mice, 2P and opto-stim-neural circuit work. All that good stuff." He sits back a bit, his full attention now on you instead of your CV on the screen. You feel your hands get a 'lil clammy the more his eyes focus on you, your lips feeling a 'lil more dry than usual. Shit, he is attractive.

"Sure!" You quickly shake off the nerves and begin to tell him about your experience and interest in bioengineering. It all started when the field was briefly introduced to you in high school, and your curiosity grew to enormous levels when you found a few schools that had the specific undergrad program available. You've talked to a few seniors about their experiences, like Sunwoo, before solidifying your decision to move forward with the major. You tell him how you took a break after graduation to get some more hands-on experiences through two internships and a full-time job, working on in-vitro mice work, computational analysis and building and maintaining 2P microscopes. Then, you realized you really wanted to get back on track and pursue your graduate studies. You tell him about your rotation in Professor Bahng's lab last quarter and how you enjoyed it, but you were having trouble figuring out how you'd fit in the lab. When you talked to Sunwoo a little more about what he's been up to in Professor Choi's lab, your interest in opto-stim peeked, having been Professor Choi's niche. 

It's a nice, easy conversation. You find that Professor Choi isn't as intimidating as you thought. He chimes in with questions every now and then, making it a smooth two-way convo.

"Ah, Professor Bahng? That's my guy right there. Learned lots from him." You chuckle.

"He's brilliant."

"He is, he really, really is." He nods. "But I totally get it, it's good to experience things in order for you to understand what you really want or how to spend your time wisely."

"Exactly." You tilt your head and look at him. "That's pretty much it for me, though. Your work is great. I'm really interested in learning more and diving deep into opto-stim. I know the basics, but haven't gotten a chance to work with it. Sunwoo's project seems to encompass a lot of that, along with the other aspects I've worked with." 

"That's right. His project has been on a roll, same thing with Belle's. I can see you working between the both of them, most of your time with Sunwoo, though. I think you'll fit the best with his, and I can see a lot of potential avenues coming out of it. He's been asking for some help, too." He chuckles. "Why don't you talk to Sunwoo and Belle a little more? Then all four of us can meet in the next couple of days to finalize project ideas and details. Should be good to start the rotation afterwards if it all goes smoothly." Your eyes light up.

"Really? I-I mean, yes. I'll do that."

"Mhm. Let me know when you're ready? Just send me an another email."

"Thank you, Professor Choi." He smiles at you.

"You're very welcome. Do you have any other questions?" You look at him, head tilting out of curiosity.

"Um, not for the project. It's something more personal, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Go for it." He leans back again and rests his clasped hands on his lap.

"Why did you pursue this field?" San is having to pause because out of all the times he's met with students, people [besides formal interviews], no one has asked him that question. No one has asked him directly— people like to assume they know him because his name is out there, but not once has anyone asked about his experience.

"Hm." He hums. "It's probably gonna sound a little cliché and everything, so don't judge me." You giggle and shake your head. "It just felt like my calling? Kinda like you." When he smiles, you find yourself captivated by his dimples. They make everything about his smile so captivating and so, so charming. "I think you might know this already, but my dad was a biology professor. He always told me to challenge myself and think outside the box, and I think the early exposure to his career definitely shaped my path. He'd share his knowledge with me and try to ask me tricky questions. Make me think about what's around me, how things can be improved. Better understood. Then, I learned about bioengineering and tried to better understand it. Open new avenues for things that haven't been studied well yet. Just took lots of risks and tried things out. Failed lots of times before getting the hang of things."

"That's amazing. Your parents must be really proud."

"I hope so." He laughs. "Thanks for asking."

"Oh, no. Thank you. I wasn't sure if I overstepped with that question."

"What? No way. You're actually the first to ask and I appreciate that."

"Oh?" Is all you manage to get out, confused as to why he would say that. Has no tried to ask about him or get to know him a little better? Maybe it was just you, but you definitely thought building good, personal connections would bring more advantages than not— first and foremost, bringing comfort and ease, especially to any new environment. Who would wanna work in an awkward, tense setting?

"I mean it." San laughs. "I appreciate it. It's nice when people take a second to view me as a human and not a robot who is constantly churning work." 

"Course." The both of you maintain eye contact for a bit and it makes you feel so, so nervous that he's just looking at you. And he kinda is just looking at you. Observing you. He finds himself admiring your look once more; the hair, your smile, your nails. Cute. He knows he shouldn't, but truthfully, he can't really help himself when a beautiful woman is in front of him in general. He is a man, and a man who enjoys eye candy. "Anyway, I know you're probably booked and busy today, so let me get going."

"You're okay. I don't have anything until the next 30 mins, don't feel the need to rush."

"No, it's okay. I should totally let you be." You stand and smile at him as you sling the strap on your shoulder and tuck your bag close. "Thank you again, Professor Choi. I'm excited for what's to come."

"Me too. It'll be great, I know it." He stands, hands in his pockets as he follows you towards the door.

"Thanks." You turn to look at him, and he's not too far from you. "See you soon.. over Zoom?" You assume that since the basics and introductions are out of the way, it'll probably be more convenient for Professor Choi to do a Zoom meeting. Lo and behold, he surprises you with a: 

"In person would be nice." He smirks a bit. He does enjoy his in person meetings; they're more productive that way.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna waste your time."

"Never." He shrugs a bit. "I mean it. It's always better to talk in person, anyway." 

"I agree." You smile at him once more, hand on his door handle. "See you soon."

"Have a good one, Y/N. Feel free to email me if anything comes up."

"Appreciate it." You give him one last look before you swing the door open and find Sunwoo just about to settle down at his desk.

"Y/N! Professor Choi! Assuming it went well and I'll get the help I've been begging for?" San laughs.

"Yeah. I asked Y/N to talk to you and Belle about potential projects and to email me once she's ready so we can all meet and finalize details."

"Good with me." 

"Good with me, too." San gives you both a small, toothless smile before walking back into his office. "So, how'd it really go?"

"Good." You approach Sunwoo's desk. "He's not as intimidating as I thought. Kinda. Really laid back, though."

"Yeah, he's super chill and easy going. Super supportive. You'll enjoy it here." He waves his phone. "Sorry I missed your call earlier."

"I forgot I didn't have access into the basement."

"How'd you get in?"

"Professor Choi saw me peeking through the basement door window." Sunwoo snorts.

"Amazing first impression." You playfully pinch his bicep.

"Hate you." You pout. "I'm nervous."

"For what, dude?" He laughs. "I promise you, it's not that bad at all. As long as you put in the work and do what you need to do, everything will play out fine."

"What if I don't get into the lab post-rotation?"

"Don't say that." Sunwoo smiles. "You'll be good. Promise. You're smart and hardworking."

"We'll see. Maybe you'll realize how much of a pain in the ass I am when we work together."

"True." You glare at him and he laughs. "Kidding. Ready for classes to start soon?"

"No."

"That's the spirit." You chuckle. "Anyway, let me know when you're free this week. We can walk around the lab while we talk about projects. Belle is usually here around the same time I am so I'm sure we can grab her whenever." You nod. At this point, Chris and Yeosang walk into the room, the two in good spirits and engaging in lively conversation right before knocking on San's door. 

"Okay. I'll text you later, then. I gotta get back to Jiung, I left him upstairs."

"I saw." He chuckles and salutes just as he diverts his attention to the data on his desktop computer.

"Hi Professor Bahng, Professor Kang." You smile at them in passing and they nod in response.

"Hey Y/N! Nice to see you around these parts." Professor Bahng says with that usual happy tone of his. Professor Kang is a little more shy, but never fails to acknowledge you with a smile or soft 'hello.' Chris presses his ear to the door before laughing and swinging the door open, greeting San as casually as they can before the door shuts.

"Whattup!" Chris plops onto San's couch while Yeosang takes the other end.

"Nothing much. Just finished my meeting with the rotation student. You know her, actually."

"Oh, Y/N? Yeah! She's crazy smart. Think she'll do some good work in your lab." San nods.

"So, what's the plan you wanted to talk about?"

"I need to start planning the symposium for one of the grants. It needs to happen within the next month. Was hoping you can help us, give us a few tips? Maybe do a talk?"

"Where are you planning to do it?"

"Right next door at the Acacia Center, was hoping one of the huge conference rooms would be open."

"Probably the best place to do it because they can cater for the event, too."

"Who else can we recruit to do a talk, though?" Yeosang sits back and lets out a sigh. "Jongho?"

"Try seeing if Namjoon is free, that'll definitely draw some people." They all laugh in unison knowing Namjoon's power. "And make sure you do the whole email blast with flyers everywhere. Let people pass it along."

"Yeah, okay. But, also, don't hate me." Christopher looks at San with an awkward smile. San knows though, he knows very well what he's hinting at.

"We've already talked about this. I don't care."

"I know, but still. You're one of my good friends and I'd hate to put you in an uncomfortable position."

"Well, Yunho is always gonna be there and I don't expect things to change. We're always gonna have to work together despite what happened."

"I don't know how you do it, I'm sorry." Yeosang says, slightly shaking his head as he sinks into the couch a little more. 

"I agree. You're strong, man."

"I have no choice." San laughs. "Besides, I stopped letting that consume me a long time ago. It's none of my concern anymore. As long as I can get my shit done without issues and minimal contact, I couldn't care less."

"That's real, honestly." Chris lets out a breath. "Well, I'm gonna ask him to do a talk."

"Go for it. Will probably be good for the grant, too." San sighs. He meant it when he said he stopped letting the entire thing consume him a long time ago. And he does have to interact with Yunho whether he likes it or not; it's not like he's gonna give everything up just because he can't stand some petty drama from the past. Besides, he promised Namjoon he was okay. He promised he wouldn't cause issues even though Namjoon didn't expect any. But, it did hurt. He's not gonna lie— there are days when he still questions everything and he wonders why things unfolded the way it did. 

He just knows better now, and can actually brush it off without it affecting his mood, his surroundings.

"I gotta keep going through my list of people."

"I can ask around, too." San says. "Do you want me to see if the big conference room is free?"

"Yeah, please?" Chris laughs. "They give you everything."

"No, they don't." San rolls his eyes with a chuckle. 

"Damn near." Yeosang adds.

"Any of your lab members wanna do a poster presentation?"

"Uh." San shuts his eyes in thought for a second. "Let me ask, I think Yoon might have some good data to present."

"Okay, let me know." San nods. "You guys free for lunch later?"

"12:30, maybe?" Yeosang stands and looks at his watch. "I gotta get to my next round of meetings 'till then."

"Same. Text me where to meet?" Chris stands and nods before throwing up the peace sign.

"Will do. Thanks for the tips and for looking into the room."

"I'll let you know what they say." Both Christopher and Yeosang nod just as they walk out of his office and leave him to his peace. He makes a note to send an email after his next meeting about the room and catering, knowing how hard it can be to reserve a room within a month's time frame at this campus. He'll do what he can to help Chris, though— that's one of his good friends and somebody who didn't turn their back on him after everything that's happened. Even Yeosang, Mingi, Jongho. Namjoon. Of course, everyone works great together. Everyone is civil when they need to be. But San knows if he ever needed them, they'd be there for him in a heartbeat. 

They'd be the people he could turn to without question.

When it comes time for lunch, San is barely getting out of his meeting at 12:30pm. He finds Chris, Yeosang and Mingi at the café right across the way from the Harvey Center, falling in line with them just as it grows during the lunch hour rush. They grab their food and plop down at a shaded table off to the side, greeting a few familiar faces and passing students.

"What's up?" Yunho passes, nodding at the table and giving Chris' shoulder a quick massage. Iseul follows behind, not paying the group any mind. Yeosang, Mingi and Chris share their own 'hello's,' while Yunho and San continue to play the silent treatment with each other. Yes, San will work with Yunho if he needs to. He'll be civil, he'll act like nothing ever happened. He'll act like their relationship wasn't severed after everything that went down. But, if he's out here minding his business, eating lunch with friends— he'd rather not bump into Yunho and Iseul and make any small talk. Simply just cause. He's done a lot of work to get past that and he doesn't want anything to do it with anymore.

"Anyway." Mingi says, making Chris snort.

"Anyway. Ya'll trying to hit the gym sometime tomorrow?"

"I'm down." San says, scrolling through his phone. He'll scratch some time out of his evening to hit the gym since it's been a few days  since his last gym session. At least, he plans to finalize his class schedule before end of the day today— he'll have a little more breathing room once he submits that to the department.

"No way, you're not serious!" Your voice echoes as you exit the café, laughing along with Jiung and Felix over Felix's random encounter that he was giving you details about. San diverts his attention to your group, recognizing the outfit, the voice. He sips on his drink and continues to watch the smile on your face build, the animated hand gestures you use, the way you so attentively listen to every word your friends are telling you. Oddly enough, he finds that seeing you is a good distraction. He feels a little more relaxed post-5 second Yunho and Iseul encounter, a small subtle smile creeping up on his lips when he sees you throw your head back in laughter. It's soothing.

That's probably the moment he realizes you are enticing.

And to be honest, he's not understanding why he feels a certain pull to you; it's so uncommon and so, so foreign, to him. He doesn't even think he felt this way when he first started dating Iseul. Don't get him wrong— he did love her, he did feel the usual giddiness, the honeymoon phase, all of the above. Everything progressed as naturally as it could with that time. 

But with you, he's finding a certain itch. He's not sure how to relieve himself, especially when he knows he shouldn't. He can't. 

It'll be trouble having you around, he's very aware of that. It'll be a test for him, the boundaries he creates to make sure you both don't cross that line.

He can't.

Still doesn't mean he won't.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom

[hysteria-things]

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART EIGHT.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when matt brings you to his house after the pits, chris butts in to take good care of you throughout the night.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, intoxication, being hungover

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,930

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i know this series is kind of a flop but i don’t care because i love it😜

however i want to try and get a fic out every day PLUS a part of this so i can have it finished since it’s mostly finished in my notes already. can’t promise anything though since i’m a busy gal but that’s the plan i got!

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 while chris sits on the couch scrolling on his phone. matt left in a hurry before and didn't explain to him why. then, the front door opens. he hears matt’s voice which is in a low tone. “chris!” he whisper-yells. chris looks up to see his brother carefully walking over to him with you ragdoll-like in his arms. chris’s eyes widen in disbelief. “what the fuck did you do?”

matt rolls his eyes. “i didn't do anything. she went to that stupid rage tonight that’s been the talk of the town. she’s lucky she was able to call me to pick her up.”

“jesus,” chris whispers, shaking his head. “i got her from here.”

he holds out his arms as matt helps her walk to him. you smile at chris with lust in your eyes before they fall heavy. matt sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “thank you, matt,” chris says.

“yes. thank you.” you laugh, giving him a weak wave.

“let’s get you upstairs.” chris groans, carefully making his way to the staircase.

matt follows you up the stairs which took longer than they had anticipated. you felt his hand rest on your back for extra support. their parents are sleeping, so you guys have to be extra careful. on the flip side, the boys have to shush you from your giggles. “are you sure you don't need help?” matt asks as he stops in front of his bedroom door.

chris shakes his head. “no, i got it.”

matt opens his door at the same time nick opens his. he stops abruptly, staring at you and then chris repeatedly before speaking. “how long was i in there?” he points over his shoulder into his room.

“oh my god, nick!” you shout. “hi!”

the three of them shush you, nick shaking his head with a sigh. “i need to piss,” he says, walking to the bathroom.

both you and chris get into his room and he plops you onto the bed. you groan, bringing your hands up to your face. he hears you mumble words he can’t make out, observing that you switch moods fast when drunk. he marches over to his closet to pull out a fresh love hoodie, making sure to pull out a 2XL so it can cover you enough to make you feel comfortable. “okay, y/n,” he starts, placing the hoodie neatly next to you. you remove your hands from your face and stare at him. that hint of lust is still in your eyes, but he doesn’t know if it is from the weed and alcohol or not.

mentally taking a note, chris notices that you reek of drugs, too.

“change into this and i’ll throw your clothes in the wash to have ready for tomorrow. you can't sleep in that.”

you sit up and nod. “okay.”

with the little strength you have, you stand on your feet and grab the hoodie. “i’ll step out.” he exits the room, screeching at the sight of nick standing inches from the doorway. “christ, nick. what do you want?”

“what i want is an explanation.”

“It's nothing, nick. she’s just hammered. she can't go home looking like that.”

“being hammered isn’t nothing,” he says, tapping his foot. his face changes to panic. “oh no, what if she has alcohol poisoning or something? what if she dies and we're witnesses? i cannot tolerate that.”

“shut up, you're being dramatic. she’s fine. she needs rest.”

nick brings his hand up to his chest and exhales. “good. i’m going to bed now. thank you for your time.”

sighing, chris faces the door and knocks on it. “you can come in.” he hears a muffle from the other side. he opens the door and sees you sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. the clothes you were previously wearing are bunched up on the floor. he picks them up and you stare at him. “i’ll throw these in the washing machine. are you okay? do you need anything?”

you shake your head weakly. “no.”

after starting the washing machine, chris went back upstairs to get himself ready to sleep. he did a quick change in the bathroom and headed back to the room. this time, you’re under the covers, zoning out as you stare at the ceiling. you don’t acknowledge him until he stands next to you. you blink and look at him with a soft smile.

“you’re cute,” you say as you take your hands to squish both of his cheeks. then, you turn on your side and close your eyes. chris shakes his head, plugging in both of your phones and opening up yours.

your password is 2-4-6-8-1-0. he remembers that ever since you got your phone in middle school, the reason being that you were oddly never good at the two-times tables. he always found that pretty amusing. right now, he has to put on his best y/n impression and tell your mom that you’re okay. kind of.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄.” 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄, 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆 your eyes as the sun blinds you awake. your head is fucking pounding. you flutter your eyelids before fully opening them, examining the room that you’re in. it sure isn’t yours. nor are you in your bed.

you think back to the bits and pieces of last night. calling matt, picking you up, bringing you back to his place, chris—

chris.

this is chris’ room. a room you’ve been in hundreds of times because of sleepover weekends back in elementary. you look at the huge hoodie you’re in — which is insanely comfortable — with your clothes neatly folded on the nightstand. you then glance at the floor and see a pillow with a blanket messily placed on top of it. the door slowly opens and chris peeks his head in. he smiles when he sees you, fully stepping into the room and closing the door. “good morning.”

“hi.” you rasp.

“i got you some water and a fuckton of ibuprofen. i’m sure you need it.” he holds up the drink and painkillers that are in his hands. “how’d you sleep?”

“like the dead.”

“that’s good at least.” he shrugs, putting the water and ibuprofen on the surface next to your clothes. you dart your eyes back down at the ground and up at him. “did you seriously sleep on the floor? you could've told me to move.”

he shrugs. “i didn’t have a reason to. you needed the rest more than i did.”

“stop being so fucking nice,” you say, rubbing the crust from the corner of your eyes once more.

he laughs before speaking. “i texted your mom from your phone, by the way. i had to put my y/n face on to do it, which i think i nailed. said you were staying at your friend’s house. that isn't a lie technically now that i think of it. it’s just that if i told her you were sleeping over here in my bed, i’m scared she'll come after me then you.” he brings his finger up to his chin as he rambles about.

your eyes widen at the mention of your mom. “oh shit, i didn't even think about my mom. you saved my life.”

“speaking of moms, mine made breakfast. it’s…” he pauses to look at his phone. “10:30. better get some before it gets cold. there are also some pajama pants in my closet you can throw on to come downstairs.”

“okay.”

that’s all you can say, severely overwhelmed by the hospitality. as much as you hate being abandoned by your friends at a place you aren’t familiar with, the triplets are too nice to do this. you would’ve left your ass there if you were them.

throwing on red plaid pajama pants that are way too big for you; the strings are the tightest they can be, and it is still a little loose. you take the ibuprofen chris gave you and approach the door.

walking out of the room, you see a glimpse of people in the kitchen. marylou spots you first, beaming when she realizes it’s you after a few seconds. “y/n! i didn’t know you slept over. are you going back to the tradition?”

shrugging sheepishly, you laugh. “we’ll see how it goes.”

“go sit down with the boys at the table. i’ll make a plate for you,” she says, starting to immediately prep an extra dish.

“oh, you don’t have—”

“i insist.” she lifts her hand to cut you off.

“you better listen to the lady.” jimmy starts. “don’t. poke. the bear.”

she slaps his arm. “don’t listen to him. go sit, I'll bring your plate to you shortly.”

you follow chris into the dining room that is attached to the living room. nick and matt are next to each other, and you and chris sit on the opposite side of them. the three of them already finished half of their food. “y/n, y/n, y/n,” nick sighs, shaking his head. “you are a wild one.”

you roll your eyes. “it was only a few drinks.”

“i’m surprised you didn’t throw up on me.” matt chimes in. “anyway, how are you feeling this morning?”

“my head is pounding. i practically inhaled all of the ibuprofen upstairs.”

“the pits are bad news. don’t do it again.” matt scolds, pointing his finger at you like a mad parent.

“it’s not worth it, honestly.” nick agrees, chewing on his food. “the parties here can get too intense, sometimes. especially if it's in the middle of nowhere. i’d piss my pants.”

“here’s your plate, hun,” marylou says, placing the waffles and bacon on the placement. she already has the waffles cut up for you and even brought you some apple juice. too nice is not enough words to describe this family.

you’re playing with the food when chris nudges you with his knee. you face him, not realizing how close you are to each other, shoulders touching and all. “do you like… remember anything from last night?” he asks hesitantly.

you sigh. “i remember matt bringing me back here and passing out on your bed.”

chris nods, glancing away for a moment. he looks a little upset when you say that. “why? did i do something wrong?” you ask with a hint of panic.

“no, no, of course not. i was just curious.” the side of his mouth lifts slightly.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 is, he drops you off at home. he’s the only one with a license, so he's the designated driver. chris lets you keep the hoodie and pajama pants, the clothes you were wearing wrapped over your arm. your mom comes sprinting from the kitchen when she hears the front door open. “i was worried about you.” she says, hugging you. good thing you didn't smell as bad, or you would be in huge trouble.

“i texted you, didn't i?” you ask.

god bless chris.

“yes, but it was just really late. you know how i get.”

“i know, but i’m fine.”

“whose clothes are those?” she asks, eyeing you from head to toe.

“jaiden’s.” you lie. “she lent them to me since i didn't have anything to sleep over in.”

“alright. next time text me earlier, okay?”

you nod, walking into your room to get things for your everything shower. you place your robe and fresh clothes on the sides of the sink. while undressing, your phone lights up. glancing down at it, you blush at the name that appears.

butlerkevin started following you.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @etershine @tpvmz @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew

[sunmoonjune]

spring tides [like the moon universe]

pairing: poly!ot8 ateez x fem!oc!reader

warnings: vague mentions of eating disorder, death and torture, scars, ptsd, very fluffy! a lot of comfort! not so dark this time xD I did not proofread this :D

word count: 14.1k

a/n: hello y'all :D I have returned with some LTM for you <;3 This is a oneshot for my like the moon universe! You don't necessarily need to read the series to understand this fic but it definitely helps the immersion and understanding some of the plot points! you can find all chapters of ltm on my masterlist <3

Seonghwa remembers something in the spring of your third year with Ateez. As he watches you at Jongho’s side, silently offering the guard slices of fruit as he cleans his claymore, Seonghwa recalls that he doesn’t know when your birthday is. 

Jongho is murmuring something about the design of his blade and the engraving along the handle when Seonghwa stands abruptly. The eldest shifts on his feet, brows furrowed and teeth worrying his bottom lip. His lips purse when Jongho questions him. 

“Hwa?” 

The red-haired guard looks up at his partner with a lilt of concern in his voice, hands halting their motion on his blade. Jongho’s dark eyes glint as the fading sun catches the hickory color of his irises. 

“Is there something wrong?” Jongho continues, already shifting to stand to his feet. “Are you alright?”

You rock on your feet, legs stretching as you prepare to stand with Jongho. Your eyes flicker across camp, scanning for whatever has caught Seonghwa’s attention. There’s two swords still strapped to your back and you can nearly feel the cool metal pressing into your skin – a haunting reminder of the terrible things you’ve done with them. The buzz beneath your skin itches with the beginnings of adrenaline, already prepared to stand and defend the two Ateez members at your sides.

Seonghwa lifts his hands and shakes his head to soothe you and Jongho before you can stand. He softly waves his hands to encourage you to sit back onto the carved log beneath you, a wary smile on his lips. 

“No, it’s nothing,” he murmurs, still gnawing at his lip as he finishes. He offers a barely concealed sigh and shakes his head again. “‘M alright, just remembered something.” 

Jongho doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer, but he settles back onto the floor regardless. His hands return to wiping down his claymore but he doesn’t look away from his partner. 

You share the sentiment, continuing to watch Seonghwa and making note of each creak and scratch that echoes through the camp. You don’t know what startled him, but you’ll be prepared for the next time. The fruit in your hands has made your fingers sticky in the brief moments you spent looking up at Seonghwa rather than cutting the supple treat. 

You don’t mind though. You like slicing fruit for Jongho.  He doesn’t eat enough, you’ve noticed. You’re not quite sure why, but you suppose you don’t quite know how to ask. No matter the reason, it brings you comfort when he continues to take slices of succulent fruit from you as he cleans. He doesn’t look up, simply trusting you to place the pieces into his hands so he can eat without trouble. When you sat beside him that morning with the fruit in your hands, Jongho raised an eyebrow but didn’t mention it. You ate the first few slices before offering them to the wine-haired guard, who accepted them with a small smile. Every so often, he turns slightly, ensuring that you’re continuing to eat as much as he does. 

At one point he tilts his head back, looking up at you with those pretty, boba pearl eyes and opens his mouth slightly. Both his hands are occupied, busy with the intricate care his blade necessitates. With your heart thumping quickly in your chest, you place a slice of fruit on Jongho’s waiting lips and try desperately not to linger on the thought of how full and supple they are. 

“Thanks, love,” he murmurs without looking at you, the words sweet and saccharine in the low timber of his voice. 

Seonghwa laughed when Jongho’s cheeks pinkened after that, but you weren’t really sure why. 

Turning his attention to you, Seonghwa looks down at your figure. Sitting with a slight slump in your shoulders, the spymaster smiles faintly. Slouched posture is a good sign, he muses. You’re comfortable. 

When you tilt your head to the side, silently questioning Seonghwa’s thoughts, you reach up to gingerly grasp his fingers. There’s no hesitation. There hasn’t been in a long while. Seonghwa extends his hand in offering when he notices your appendages twitch. His warmth sinks into your palm and you nearly hum at the soothing feeling. 

You squeeze his hand twice before lingering for a longer third.

‘Are you okay?’ you silently question.

Seonghwa’s lips quirk into another gentle smile, but his eyes are distant. It makes your heart tug painfully. The hickory of his near-black irises is muted. You miss the glimmer of those sweet, dark eyes that show when he smiles. 

“Yeah, m’alright, lovebug.” 

Your heart slams into your ribs – a delighted feeling. Lovebug. You like that. 

Seonghwa leans closer to repeat the gesture, squeezing twice and then lingering for an ‘okay.’ His other hand lifts to run over the back of your head with a delicate movement. Fingers carefully scratch against your scalp and you resist the temptation to lean into his hands and exhale softly. 

“I have to go see Joong and Yunho, though. I really did just remember something I wanted to speak to ‘em about,” he whispers. Dragging his nails gently over the nape of your neck once more, Seonghwa smiles when you finally lean into his touch with a quiet rumble. He thinks you look positively cat-like. When one set of lashes flutters against your cheek in a tired, pleased expression, Seonghwa could coo at the endearing look. He withholds only to save you the embarrassment of his mother-hen tendencies. 

Your one eye flickers over his expression once more before you relent and nod your head just once. Seonghwa’s hand begins to pull away from your head, and this time you do make a tiny sound of sadness. The eldest feels his heart squeeze at your reluctance to be parted from him, leaning close to drag his thumb over the stiff material of your mask with a sweet touch before he stands upright once more. 

“I’ll be back in a minute, okay? You and Jongho finish up and join us for dinner soon.” 

You let out a short exhale through your nose, a sound they’ve taken to signify your agreement. Jongho’s lips twitch at the noise, trying to hold back the laugh he wants to let out. 

“Okay,” you whisper softly beneath your breath as you lean back against the back of the log. Seonghwa smiles and finally shifts his stance to leave, only pressing a gentle kiss to Jongho’s brow before walking off. Your head tilts one last time as Seonghwa leaves, wondering if perhaps one day he’ll kiss your head too when he takes his leave. 

The archer finds Yunho before Hongjoong. The tallest of Ateez is easy to collect when Seonghwa gives him a meaningful look. The tension in the eldest’s brow must convince Yunho that there is something important he is needed for because he immediately follows after Seonghwa. The two find themselves in the Captain’s cavern, his and Seonghwa’s really, standing before the long-haired leader with a small frown on the archer’s lips. 

Hongjoong mimics the frown, coming to a stand behind the desk currently holding a plethora of worn maps. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Seonghwa sighs, squeezing his fists together before he turns to face Yunho with a solemn expression. 

“When’s her birthday?” 

Yunho’s brow quirks at the same time the tension in his shoulders finally loosens a notch. Sighing softly, he licks his lips and answers.

“Tiny’s?” 

Seonghwa nods, the expression on his face unchanging: serious and solemn, as if the situation was as grave as a wake. Hongjoong glances between the two men, his brow now lifted in surprise, but he says nothing. 

“It’s been three years since she’s been with us,” Seonghwa murmurs tersely. “But we haven’t celebrated her birthday. The first year I could understand missing it – I mean, she was still adjusting to Ateez, and even after that she’s still a little apprehensive. Not that I blame her, of course – I just… It’s been three full years and I can’t believe we’ve missed her birthday at least three times.” 

Yunho’s bottom teeth sink into his lip and his eyes suddenly dart towards the floor. He swallows once, shifting on his feet and sighs as he ponders how to answer Seonghwa’s question. The eldest watches his partner with that same, tense look and his eyes glisten with something sad – something understanding, as if he knows Yunho’s answer before he speaks it aloud. 

“I don’t know,” Yunho finally answers quietly. He looks down at his feet, unable to meet his elder’s eyes. His eyes squeeze shut with another sigh that shakes through his shoulders. He repeats himself louder, still just barely above a whisper. “I don’t know.” 

Hongjoong steps forward from behind his desk. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?” 

“I mean I don’t know,” Yunho whispers sadly. “And she doesn’t either.” 

Seonghwa licks his lips, grasping at strings as he scrambles to find the right words to say. 

“I don’t understand. How can she not know her own birthday?” 

Yunho won’t look up from his feet. His fingers curl into fists and the tips of his nails dig into his palms from the tightness of his grip. He can’t bring himself to loosen his hold. 

“Tiny, uh… After everything that happened with her – with that village, they don’t particularly regard her… fondly, you know?” 

Yunho speaks slowly and methodically, as if trying carefully to pick the right words to say. His tone is terse and cold, the disdain for the village of his past more than evident in his voice. Hongjoong looks up at his partner with a frown still on his lips, his heart pulsing sadly in his chest. 

“But she doesn’t know her own birthday? No one in her village told either of you?”

Yunho sighs again, finally looking up at his Captain with grief plastered across his features in an expression neither man can ignore. Seonghwa is already stepping forward, settling an arm over Yunho’s shoulders and rubbing his thumb across the taller man’s jaw. 

Yunho leans closer to Seonghwa and continues, voice deep and throaty with the weight of his words. “We celebrated it once. Back when we were young – back when… Daia was still around.” 

Hongjoong looks away. 

“But even then,” Yunho continues softly, trying not to think of the bony cage casting shadows of your quivering form. You were so young. Little fingers grasped the cold bars that separated him from you, desperately whispering a plea for him to leave. He should have known your father wouldn’t let you celebrate your birthday like he and the other children did. But the smile on your face was so pure, so genuinely happy that he could never utter the words that may wipe it away. 

 “We didn’t know the exact date – just that she was born in the spring. Her father… well he killed the attendants that assisted her mother through labor. Not that we could prove it, of course. Anyone around for Bug’s birth… isn’t around anymore. And Bug was raised kind of secluded the first few years of her life. No one knows exactly when she was born and her father certainly wouldn’t say.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes continue to glisten with that broken look, and he licks his drying lips before he speaks. His heart throbs painfully, echoing the sadness in his face.. “And… after Daia wasn’t around anymore?” 

Seonghwa hates that he asks. 

Yunho shifts on his feet and looks away again. 

“I, uh… I don’t know much of what happened after Daia…” he trails off for a long moment. “By that time, the village and her father turned their backs on Bug, and I… I was exiled a few years later.” 

Seonghwa thumbs over Yunho’s jaw again, trying to soothe his lover’s agony. Hongjoong steps closer and lays his hand across Seonghwa’s back, their combined sadness near tangible in the cavern hall. 

“Bug’s birthday…” Yunho finally continues. “She’s never seen it as a good thing, you know? Her father and the village certainly didn’t see it that way.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes sadden, the shine of his irises dulling at Yunho’s confession. He turns over his shoulder to look at Hongjoong and presses his lips together, as if regretting bringing up the topic altogether. 

“A good thing?” Hongjoong whispers. 

Yunho shakes his head, his frown dragging down his lips as he breathes softly. “Not something worth celebrating. The day she was born was… the start of everything bad, I guess.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes squeeze shut, the burn of tears forcing pressure to build in the corners. 

“Sometimes I think,” Yunho whispers tiredly, his eyes cloudy and unfocused as he stares into the distance. “I think she might hate it; that she might despise the day of her birth because of all the pain that came after.”

Hongjoong takes a deep breath in through his nose, trying to soothe the anguish that swells inside his ribs. There’s grief there, rage too, settling in the pit of his stomach and pushing upwards into his chest and throat. It’s not directed at you – it could never be. It’s towards your father, towards your village, towards anyone that has looked at you with disdain and uttered that foul moniker he knows makes you flinch. 

“I’m sorry, Yun.” 

Yunho shakes his head, leaning into Seonghwa’s hand and looking down at Hongjoong with his eyes glistening with welling tears. He swallows, clearly resisting the urge to cry, and kisses Seonghwa’s thumb when it brushes his mouth. “‘S okay, Seonghwa. I know your intentions were honorable.” 

Seonghwa nods, finally leaning forward until his head rests against Yunho’s collarbone. An arm wraps around the eldest’s shoulders and Hongjoong presses himself against Seonghwa’s back, encasing both him and Yunho. 

“So don’t bring up her birthday, then?” Hongjoong whispers, frown still drawing his lips downward. He speaks the question into Seonghwa’s shoulder blade, his lips grazing the tunic covering his skin. 

Yunho is silent for a long moment. No one speaks and the sounds of their hushed breaths are all that echo through the hollowed cavern. Yunho ponders his Captain’s question in the silence and thinks of your growth in the years you’ve spent in their camp. Would you rather they never mention your birthday again? Or would you appreciate a different kind of memory to replace the shaded pains of the ones long past?

Soon after, Yunho leans forward to bury his face into Seonghwa’s hair before he breathes deeply and pulls back, a small quirk lifting the corner of his lips. He thinks of you and that youthful grin that used to grace your lips more often as a child. Yunho recalls the mischief in your smile and the wonder that would flash across your eyes, and he begins to twist an idea around his thoughts. It’s that look he wants to see again. He always wants to see it; the mischief, the awe, the teasing grin you used to throw over your shoulder to get him to chase you through the training grounds. He wants that so badly. 

“Actually, Captain…” 

Hongjoong peels his head away from Seonghwa’s shoulder, looking up to meet Yunho’s eyes with a raised brow and a question in his eyes. “Hmm?”

Yunho finally manages a fraction of a smile, stroking his hand over Seonghwa’s shoulders as he speaks. 

“I think there might be a way we can show her that her birth is something worth celebrating. I’ll need your help though.” 

“Anything.” 

“Anything for her,” Seonghwa finishes at the same time Hongjoong speaks. 

Yunho’s heart swells. The soft grin on his features begins to stretch, mirrored by his two elders. Pride begins to surge beneath his skin and it makes him feel fuzzy. 

“What do you need?” Hongjoong whispers into the fraction of space separating their lips. Yunho huffs a smile, leaning closer until his mouth brushes against his leader’s. 

“How do you feel about a little trip, Captain?” 

Time passes easily. About a week goes by after the conversation between you, Jongho and Seonghwa before Hongjoong announces that Ateez will be spending a few nights traveling away from camp. He won’t say where they’re traveling to nor why they’re going, but there’s a mischievous grin on his lips when you tilt your head in suspicion. No one will tell you anything about the adventure other than handing you a cloth pack to gather some things for the trip. 

Mingi helps you clean your blades and slides them into the scabbards on your back for you. Seonghwa packs food away carefully and slides extra servings of dried and cured meats into your pack followed by the fruit he knows you and Jongho love. San and Yeosang sit by your side as you help sort the first aid supplies the camp may need. The inky vines wrapping around Yeosang’s forearms flashes from beneath his sleeves, and you find yourself following the sight of the tattoo each time you peek a glimpse of golden skin covered in leafy shapes. 

San laughs and raises an eyebrow at his lover when he flicks his shirt above his waistband playfully, showcasing the span of scales descending over his hip and up his waist. He giggles when you reach forward to pull his shirt higher over his side, eager to follow the lines of ink up his torso. San pushes your hands away and promises to show you one day. Wooyoung enters the cavern a moment later and exchanges a knowing look with San, as if the same pattern of obsidian scales crawls up the opposite side of his own torso. 

On the morning Hongjoong announced their leave, you pack the last of your things diligently in the cloth pack given to you. There’s something fond rippling through your chest as you slide a hand over the large tunic laid across your bed. 

The sensation seeps all the way down to your toes, a bittersweet happiness that arose from the realization that you’ve never… owned things before. 

In that village, nothing was ever yours. It was always stolen or taken, never owned. 

But now… 

Now there’s all kinds of things in your corner of the medical cavern. There’s the little rope of twine with eight little beads Yeosang gave you to fiddle with so you wouldn’t pick and pull at your nails. There’s the bear-hide blanket Jongho handmade when you started to grow cold in the winter nights. A pile of spare clothes tailored to fit your size sits beneath your bed. A hollowed shell of smooth, rich cream sits beside you, specially made for you by Wooyoung and San when they noticed your scars were particularly aching in the cold weather. There’s a whetstone and cleaning tools beside your swords, left there by Mingi when he noticed your blades were dulling. Seonghwa always leaves a myriad of flowers beside your bed each week, and the dried stems of all his past bouquets hang above your on a piece of twine Joong brought you. There’s armor and chainmail beneath your bed, presented by Hongjoong with a shy smile. He cleans them for you when he thinks you’re not looking, ensuring the armor stays in good shape and protects you well. One of Yunho’s thicker tunics lies at the foot of your bed, a staple of your growing closet of clothes. He knows you like having his scent nearby. There’s books too, ones from the medical cavern and ones from Wooyoung, who you’ve discovered is quite the avid reader. 

There’s just… all sorts of things. 

And you’ve never really owned things before. It’s strange. And quite enjoyable, you decide.

You like owning things. You like being part of Ateez – being part of a family. 

With your lips twitching upwards into a fond smile, you stand with the last of your belongings and slide the straps of your cloth pack over your shoulders. It sits a little strangely on your back but you huff and step out of the cavern anyway. 

The rest of Ateez is already outside, shuffling the last of their belongings into storage and closing up the cave system behind you. A wooden sort of door slides shut behind you and the viny, earthen cover falls over it. It’s perfectly concealed from the wild, appearing just like any other cropping of rocks and stone. You marvel at their ingenuity and turn to find Wooyoung approaching you with a smile on his lips. 

“Good morning, Bug. Are you ready?” 

Your head tilts with a question as Wooyoung’s hands shift upwards to the straps of your pack. He raises a brow once, always asking for permission before he touches, and you shift closer and slide your hands onto his hips with a nod of your head. Wooyoung’s smile seems to widen, if at all possible, and he carefully begins to adjust the straps of your pack so it sits better across your back. Your gaze follows his hands, tracing over the fading scar on his one wrist – the space where a rusty shackle used to sit. Your lips quirk happily at the sight of the missing metal cuff, now long buried in the earth. He hums happily at the feeling of your hands on his waist, and chuckles beneath his breath when he feels your hands attempting to weasel under his shirt – likely another attempt to get a look at the tattoo you know sits there. 

Wooyoung huffs a breath as you skate a gentle hand over his bare hip, focusing on the wavy shape of an oscillating line your draw over his skin. He translates the word as ‘what’ and understands your inquisition to mean ‘Ready for what?’ 

“Can’t tell you,” he laughs, his chest shaking with the motion as you squeeze his hip in retaliation. “Sorry, baby. Captain’s orders; take it up with Hongjoong if you want to know so badly.” 

Your one eye rolls and Wooyoung laughs again, that bright, cackling sound echoing through the trees in a burst of noise that makes your heart flutter. You like Wooyoung’s laugh. 

“C’mon you two!” Hongjoong calls from a distance, already beginning to pace towards the southwest. “We’re burning daylight. Let’s get moving.” 

You respond with a choked hum despite knowing your Captain can’t hear it. Wooyoung grins, finally satisfied with the adjustments he’s made on your pack, and turns over his shoulder to call back, “We’re coming, Captain. Relax a little. It’s barely dawn, we’re on schedule.” 

You don’t need to see Hongjoong to know what expression the Captain has on his face. A tiny smile appears on your lips and when Wooyoung turns back to face you with a hand held out in offering, his grin beams once more. 

“C’mon, baby. You wanna walk with me and Sannie today?” 

Your answering nod is a little too eager, but Wooyoung doesn’t mention it. 

To you, anyway. The smug grin he shoots over his shoulder at Mingi and Yunho is met with a sigh and an eye roll. The vulgar gesture Mingi throws back goes unseen by you too. 

Seonghwa sees it though, and the sound of Mingi’s squawk when he’s slapped across the shoulder by the archer makes Wooyoung laugh again. 

It’s springtime. The forest is filled with bright shades of emerald green and flowers have begun to sprout along patches of sunlight. Lupin tickle at your ankles when you pass and you watch their lilac and lavender petals sway in the wind with a fond expression. Your last bouquet from Seonghwa was fresh Lupin flowers, a growing favorite of yours he has noticed. 

Wooyoung holds your hand as you walk, sometimes shifting to allow San to take his place. They talk happily as you stride through the forest, following Yeosang and Jongho as they lead your band of warriors through the trees. You still don’t know where you’re going nor why you’re going there, but you trust your Captain and you trust your family. 

Eventually, you unlink your hands from San to step ahead and walk besides Mingi and Yunho. San’s resounding pout and soft sigh are lost on you, but Wooyoung slides his hand into his partner’s empty fingers with a grin and a teasing poke to San’s side. Mingi intertwines his fingers with yours with a beaming grin and a happy chuckle, swinging your hands between you as you walk. He points out the flora and fauna he recognizes along the hike, explaining their uses as he recalls Yeosang’s teachings. He mentions the honey-haired healer’s tattoo sleeve of medicinal herbs and shows you some of the plants he recognizes to be inked into Yeosang’s skin. You eagerly categorize the leaves and petals of each plant, hoping that you’ll one day be able to find each one decorating Yeosang’s skin. 

The first night away from camp is spent sleeping beneath the stars. 

Your group of nine lays huddled together in a clearing in the pines, with a small fire burning quietly in the center for warmth. Shifts for watch are assigned and you find yourself curling between Yunho and San that night with a promise to take the final watch with Seonghwa. With cicadas clicking in the distance and a cool breeze rustling the branches above you, you find sleep easy that night. Strangely enough, despite resting out in the open with no cover around, you find you can sleep calmly. Nestled between your Yunho and your San, their body heat keeping you warm even underneath the fur blankets swaddled around you, you feel safe enough to sink into a well-earned sleep. You know the others will wake you if there’s trouble lurking about. They would never let anything happen to their family. 

The next day is spent between Hongjoong and Seonghwa, happily listening to their stories and eagerly nudging the both of them to show you some of the ink decorating their skin. Once you found out about Yeosang’s tattoos, there was nothing holding you back from asking the others about their own. Seonghwa relents with a teasing grin towards Hongjoong, showing you the pattern of large scales that crawl up his forearms. You trace the delicate scales with a happy sound, not noticing the shiver that crawls down Seonghwa’s spine. Hongjoong rolls his eyes at his partner, but he almost wishes to show you the ink decorating his back and spine too. He only waves you away with a laugh when you turn to him with a tilt of your head and a happy question on your lips. 

That night you sleep between Yeosang and Jongho, one of your legs wedged between the youngest’s and your hand clumsily intertwined between the healer’s fingers. This time, the nine of you settle in a cliff alcove, sheltered from the fog and the light drizzle of rain that spatters through the forest around midnight. 

There’s no telling how far you’ve traveled from Ateez’s hollow. It’s been two days of mostly hiking and stopping for breaks and meals, but you’ve long grown used to strenuous labor so the walk is not nearly as difficult as you once thought it to be. You still have little to no knowledge on your destination as your Captain is tight-lipped about the matter. He only gives you soft smiles and quiet laughter when you nag him about where or why you’ve left camp. 

On the third and last day of your long journey, you walk between Yeosang and Jongho at the front of your pack. The two have been leading you for three days, seeming to know the way without needing a map or compass. Every once and a while, Yeosang looks up at the night sky and lifts a hand to palm at the stars. You understand he must be checking your position, ensuring that they’re still on the right path, but you don’t ask. You find Polaris winking down at you each night with a fondness in your chest, and you give her a gentle, barely-there smile each time you see her. 

The healer and his partner pace through the trees with newfound urgency that morning. The two members eagerly shuffle through the trees with beaming grins and an energy that you cannot help but mimic. They’re excited about something – unfathomably so. 

“We’re almost there, honey,” Yeosang encourages you, holding out a hand to help you scale the final boulder before you begin your descent back down the mountainside. “Just another mile or so, I promise.”

You trust him. 

The others have begun to feed on the buzzing atmosphere building in the group. There’s tension simmering, but a good kind, as if there’s something awaiting your family at your destination. You don’t know what it is, but it must be something good if they’re eagerly beginning to quicken the pace. 

Soon after you begin your descent down the small mountain, the dense foliage of pine trees and packed soil gives way to something softer – something you’ve never quite seen or felt before. It’s pliable and squishy beneath your feet, allowing your weight to sink into the material with each step. It leaves footprints in your wake, the ground shifting and moving beneath your feet. 

Sand. 

It’s sand. 

You know it’s sand because Yeosang has some collected in a small jar in the medical cavern. You’ve never seen it before: sand or the sea. You found the tiny bottle of eroded stone once and carefully examined it with a puzzled expression until Yeosang found you. The miniscule grains of rock and shell shifted in the bottle as Yeosang explained where it was from. 

You listened to him for hours that day. 

He talked about the sea and his life as a captain of his own ship from the hour of the sun’s peak until it descended beneath the horizon. You were fascinated. Eagerly hanging onto every single one of his words, you listened to Yeosang with a rapture you couldn’t describe. He spoke of the ocean and the smell of salt in the fresh air, mentioning that there was a particular hint of something so ocean-like in the scent that he couldn't begin to describe. Yeosang described the sand and the shore, detailing how the plush sand like the stuff in his bottle gave way to harder packed ground the closer you grew to the sea. He talked of how it felt to play in the waves and to feel the cool touch of the ocean on his skin. 

You marveled at him for hours, longing desperately to one day know the smell he spoke of, to feel the ocean breeze tickle your skin and to feel its waves brush against your feet. 

It sounded wonderful. 

So when the sand beneath your feet begins to thicken, giving way to clumsier footsteps and the sound of something roaring in the distance, you perk upwards. 

Your entire body slams to a halt, startling San who walks behind you. Jerking upwards, your one eye darts over to Yeosang, who stands with Jongho at his side, already looking at you. There’s this look in their eyes; something fond and gentle – an expression you’ve begun to recognize. They watch you as you begin to piece together the information you’ve gathered of this little trip, smiles on their faces as you realize where they’ve taken you. 

At your side, San begins to bend forward, his hands reaching out to pull at the laces of your boots and chuckling beneath his breath. You reach out to stabilize yourself on his shoulder as you make a sound of confusion. 

‘What’s going on?’ you try to question without speaking.

At your back, Yunho runs a hand down your spine and soothes the tension in your shoulders. You reach back, grasping his hand with a strength that surprises you and draw that oscillating squiggle across the back of his hand with a bewildered expression. 

‘What’s happening?’ 

There’s another word you want to say. One you don’t have a translation for. A word you’ve never spoken or seen. 

Ocean. The sea. 

You don’t have a word for it. 

But you can smell it now. That salty, fresh sort of scent with a hint of something you cannot place. Just like Yeosang described. 

The sea. 

San taps your leg, garnering your attention and helping you lift your foot so you can place it on his knee. He’s kneeling at your feet, one leg propped up to lift your foot and the other in the sand beneath him. The healer pulls at your laces, beginning to untie your shoes and pull them from your feet with a grin. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs with that low timber that makes you shiver. “Let’s get these off.”

Your held tilts in confusion. Seonghwa chuckles behind you, leaning into Mingi’s side and shooting a look over at Wooyoung. “Gotta take your shoes off unless you want sand in the soles, Bug. It’ll be a pain to walk back with all that in ‘em. I promise you’ll never be able to get it all out.” 

Hongjoong laughs from beside Jongho, the Captain throwing his head back with a knowing grin. “Speaking from experience, huh, darling?” 

Seonghwa rolls his eyes and ignores his lover, dropping a hand to intertwine with Wooyoung’s. The younger eagerly locks their fingers together, smiling happily and leaning his head onto Seonghwa’s shoulder as you process everything. 

The others begin to pull off their own shoes, tying them to their packs or holding the laces in their fingers. Mingi laughs and pushes Wooyoung when he bends over to undo his laces, and when Wooyoung stumbles, he shouts indignantly and lurches upwards for revenge. Seonghwa laughs and tries to settle them, only to end up yanked out of the way by a grinning Yeosang. Wooyoung and Mingi screech at each other, beginning to race down the sand towards the roaring sound that continues to swell in the distance. 

You worriedly look down at San, his dark irises already looking up at you with adoration swirling behind them. The healer pulls off your sock and carefully sets your foot back onto the sand, watching as you marvel at the plush, cool material beneath the soles of your feet. 

“C’mon, tiny,” Yunho laughs behind you, chest rumbling as he speaks. The vibration echoes through your back from how close the warrior is pressed against you. He grins when you shiver pleasantly. “We’ve gotta catch up.” 

San lifts your other foot delicately and places it on his waiting knee, repeating the process of taking off your shoe and sock before he ties the laces together and stores them away in his pack. Before he sets your foot back onto the sand, San’s eyes twinkle with something mischievous.

He leans forward and drags his fingers across the skin of your calf, eyes crinkling as he smiles. You look back down at him with your stomach fluttering pleasantly, watching as San leans forward and presses his lips to the side of your calf. 

Oh. 

His lips skate over the muscle and his hand rests where your thigh connects with the knee. You feel your breathing still. Air catches in your lungs, and some burst of emotion lurches into your throat as you stop and stare down at the healer with one widened eye. You can feel the smile on San’s soft lips as he drags his mouth from your calf to your knee, kissing your skin sweetly as he goes. He drifts over scars both fresh and faded, but does not stop moving as he ascends up your calf. San leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake, your skin practically shivering under his touch and lighting ablaze when he pulls away.

Oh. 

You stare open-mouthed at the healer when San finally slides a hand down your leg and deposits it onto the sand. You lick your lips once, trying desperately to come up with words to say, but there’s nothing. Just the trail of blazing heat San left behind and a roaring fire beginning to spread inside your chest. You can practically feel the heat in your face, and you lift a hand to palm at your cheek as San watches with a teasing grin. Your figure practically vibrates as you shiver through the emotion bursting through you. 

“San…” 

Said healer mimics your shiver as you whisper his name, fingers dancing along your calf before he stops. He presses one final kiss to your knee, at the crease of the joint, and this time your eye slides shut with a shiver. The plush feeling of his lips against your skin is ambrosia for your soul and the barest touch of moisture is left behind when he finally pulls away. 

He looks up at you with honey in his irises, hand skating down your calf once more and smiles. 

“C’mon, Bug. We’ve got places to be,” he teases, saccharine timber never failing to make you melt. 

As if he wasn’t the one distracting you. 

Finally, you’re able to squeeze his shoulder thankfully and San beams up at you in the way that makes those sweet little dimples poke out of his cheeks. You nearly lean forward to caress a finger of the indents that make your heart mushy, but still as the cool sand sinks between your toes. 

It’s… soft. 

The sand melts beneath your soles like butter, cradling your heels and caressing your skin like silk. You wiggle your toes and awe at the feeling, watching the sand shift and move with your lips just barely parted in wonder. San watches from your feet, his gentle eyes roaming over your partly-concealed face and grinning at the expression plastered across your features. Your lips are parted, but just barely, taking deep breaths to inhale the fresh air of the sea breeze and one eye dilated with awe. San's heart thumps vibrantly beneath his ribs, a song of your name. It calls out to you sweetly, and San swears that when he runs his hand across the bare skin of your leg, brushing over scars and broken skin, he can hear your heart call his name in return. 

Your one eye darts upwards to meet your Captain’s gaze. 

Hongjoong stares at you with some ineffable softness in his expression. He reaches a hand out to grasp your fingers, helping you step forward away from San. The healer stands from his kneeling position, his own footwear now missing, and joins you at your side. 

“You like it?” Hongjoong whispers as you near. 

The vigorous nod of your head is almost comical, and Hongjoong chuckles beneath his breath. Yes. Yes you like it. 

San beams at your side, unable to stop the mirthful sound of his laughter. It erupts from his chest in that giggling way that you adore. You tilt your head to look at him, your chest swelling and heart thumping with the tumultuous feelings surging within you. San reaches out to run a hand down your arm and you lean close offering a single line of ‘thanks’ across his palm. 

Yunho leans forward and pecks a kiss across your forehead, directly over the mask concealing the right half of your face and then turns to walk after Wooyoung and Mingi, San at his heels. He doesn’t acknowledge the kiss, but your heart jumps into your throat regardless. Your fingers itch to follow him, twitching in an attempt to reach for him, but you turn back to your Captain instead. 

Hongjoong is still looking at you, that ineffable softness still radiating from him. “C’mon, angel. Let’s go see the ocean.” 

You’ve never been more excited. 

Hongjoong begins pulling you in the direction the others have disappeared in, following them over the dunes of sand. At first, he pulls your awestruck figure behind him as you make your way through the deeping sand, turning back to watch you marvel at the grains of white and cream colored grains. Your feet drag, slowing the two of you down as you continue to look down at the sand beneath you. At one point, you can’t resist the temptation and you stop, carefully pulling your hand from Hongjoong’s to bend at the knees and drop into the sand. 

“Woah, angel!” Hongjoong gasps as you let go of his hand and urgently drop into the earth below. “Careful!” 

Dragging your fingers through the silky material, you watch the tiny pieces of sediment cascade back into the hills beneath you as they trail between your fingers. The sand is cool to the touch and gentle as it scratches against your skin. You thought it would be rough, but it’s not. Not this sand anyway. 

Seonghwa chuckles behind you, stopping to drop his hands beneath your shoulders and gently lift you back up to your feet. The others are little specks in the distance, just a few hundred yards away. The eldest carefully sets you on your feet and slides a hand down to intertwine with your own. 

“C'mon, lovebug. We haven’t even reached the good part yet.” 

The good part? You wonder. How could it possibly get any better than this? 

But as the crashing sound gets louder with each step you take and the smell of salt continues to grow stronger, you begin to realize what the good part is. 

Soon after, it becomes you dragging Hongjoong and Seonghwa through the sand dunes. Eagerly tugging them behind you as you race towards the others, you sink into the sand and stumble a few times, only catching yourself when either member scrambles to grab your waist. You push quicker through the deepening sand each time you right yourself, racing through the dunes until you finally see it. 

The sea. 

And you stop moving. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa nearly crash into your back as you freeze, body halting at the top of the sand dune. Your one eye is transfixed on the view before you, mouth parted and body slack with awe. 

Waves are crashing along the shore, breaking into foamy surf as they collide with the cream-colored sand. There are little birds with thin, long legs dancing in the shoreline, pecking at things in the packed sand. You watch with fascination as they rush away in a flock from an oncoming wave. When the foam finally settles, they return to their feeding grounds, continuing to peck away at something beneath the darker sand. The smell of salt fills your senses and there’s a brush of water against your skin as a breeze carries a mist of salt onto the shoreline. 

You’ve never seen so much… color before. 

The ocean is blue. Green too, and teal and dark and bright, and every color in the range you can possibly think of. It’s aquamarine in the peaks of crashing waves and a darker cyan in the deepness of the salty water. There’s pale blue, creamy skies and even paler cream-colored clouds. You nearly wish you could reach out and touch one. 

It’s wonderful. And it’s so much more than you think you deserve. 

With awe on your features and mouth slightly parted, you stare mystified at the sea before you. Hongjoong steps up beside you, the others starting to circle back to stand nearby. They just stand there… watching you for a minute. 

They watch your one pupil dilate and your expression softens into wonderous glee. Their hands intertwine with each other, fingers squeezing one another and hearts thumping happily in their chests. There’s pride there, and affection too, roaring madly beneath their skin and calling out to the sea with a throaty, triumphant call. 

You like it. You like the sea. 

And they like you. 

Hongjoong slides a hand down your arm until he can gently link your scarred fingers with his own. Your attention briefly shifts away from the sea to look over at your captain. 

His soft brown hair rustles as the sea breeze flutters through the strands, and Hongjoong smiles. Eyes scrunching into a beaming grin, the one that you like so much, he offers a squeeze of your palm. The scar crossing his one eye moves with his expression and you adore the way it looks when he smiles. Chocolate brown irises flicker in the brightness of the sunlight and for a moment, you think you much prefer the color of his eyes than the enchanting blue-green of the sea. 

But it’s tough competition, of course. 

Hongjoong squeezes your hand once more, fully drawing your attention back to him, and he leans close to carefully grasp the side of your face. His palm gently cups your mask, stroking his thumb over the tough material with a delicateness you cannot fathom deserving. But he touches you regardless, even if it's the mask instead of your skin. Hongjoong doesn’t care that you continue to wear it. None of them do. It’s a part of you, and they’ll continue to care for you all the same. 

“Are you happy?” The Captain inquires, licking his lips as he watches you. 

The vigor in your nod nearly makes him laugh. His beaming grin only seems to widen and you find yourself stunned at how beautiful he looks happy. 

“Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad you’re happy, angel.” 

You want to ask something else. Something about why your little clan has ventured this far or perhaps something else, but you can’t begin to find the words for it. 

You don’t need to though. 

Hongjoong leans closer, his warm, umber eyes scanning your features as he whispers something only for you to hear. 

“Happy birthday, Bug.” 

You barely register the sentiment before your captain leans forward and gently presses his lips to the crown of your head. 

You don’t breathe. Too frightened that any movement will force him to pull away, you stay remarkably still and stare numbly into Hongjoong’s chest. 

His lips linger for a long moment against your hairline, and you feel the warmth of his exhale against your scalp. The feeling makes your stomach flutter pleasantly and suddenly your body feels like you’re going to vibrate out of sheer enjoyment. Another shiver tickles its way up your spine and you finally exhale shakily. Reaching a hand upwards, you clutch onto the hand Hongjoong has still cupping your cheek. 

Her heart finally throbs with a dull ache. 

Your birthday? 

You didn’t even think… 

Hongjoong exhales softly and bends to drop a second kiss onto your mask, just above where your right eye would be. It throbs suddenly, but not so painfully this time. 

Your birthday. 

They came all this way for you? 

All of this… leaving the camp, walking all this way, spending nights on the road, showing you the sea for the first time… they did this to celebrate your birthday? 

Your heart hurts. 

No one has ever done that for you before. 

You suppose Yunho and Daia tried once… but that didn’t end so well. Salt wells behind your one eye and your lip twitches just once, but it's enough for Hongjoong to catch. Your chest aches with the memory of your mother. It’s a hurt you could never quite soothe. 

The Captain’s smile is still bright when he pulls away but there’s a sadness beneath the joy. No, not sadness, you suppose. Something empathetic – something… bittersweet. 

Hongjoong knows. They all do. 

“My birthday?” Your mouth parts to let out the croaked sound. Your voice has gotten better. The deeper, rough tone of your voice has begun to fade after finally learning to use it again. It’s beginning to return to what it used to be – slow and steadily. 

From behind you, Yeosang hums deeply. You recognize the sound without turning to look at him. His voice always carries that undertone of sweet and smooth honey, and you can’t find any other way to describe it. 

“Yeah, honey. You told me you’ve never seen the sea, right? We thought it would make a good birthday present.” 

The healer is standing behind Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung at his sides and the rest of Ateez just beyond. They’re all here. For you. 

You shift on your feet, barely able to restrain the wetness of your one eye as you attempt to face them. Your heart still throbs, but it’s more of a pleasant ache – a good one. A sea breeze rustles your hair. Three silver rings click against your mask; a comforting sound that reminds you of home – of Yunho. The scent of salt in the air fills you with warmth and the silky sand beneath your feet cradles you in the earth’s gentle hands. The world itself seems to wrap around you in its kindness, delicately embracing you as if asking for forgiveness. 

It feels like your mother – like the hugs you can barely remember. 

The burn of tears returns tenfold. 

You’ve never celebrated your birthday before. It was never a day others regarded with joy, so you supposed it was only fair to see it the same way. You don’t even really know what day you were born. Father never told you – he never told anyone. 

But… perhaps this day – the day Ateez has chosen for you – can be your birthday. Maybe this time it doesn’t have to be a bad thing anymore. 

“We wanted to show you something new. Something good. Do you like it?” Wooyoung whispers as you process your feelings. His voice is apprehensive, as if he isn’t quite sure how you’ll respond to celebrating your birthday. You can barely hear him over the roaring sound of waves colliding with the shoreline and birds peeping in the surf. 

You’re already throwing yourself into Wooyoung’s arms before a moment of silence can pass. You crash into his chest with a crooned sound, a desperate cry of joy. 

“Yes!” You finally croak, the word sounding more like a sob than an agreement. “Yes, I like it!”

Wooyoung laughs happily as he wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck with a joyful sound. His chest vibrates with his laughter and you love the way it feels against your body. One of your hands slides out from between you and you urgently grasp ahold of Yeosang’s shirt and tug him into your pile with a quick movement. San follows soon after, lured in by Wooyoung’s touch and suddenly you’re buried beneath a mountain of Ateez’s warmth. 

Another wet sob leaves your lips, but it’s much closer to a laugh this time. 

“I love it…” 

And we love you. 

He doesn’t say it aloud, but Wooyoung hopes you hear it anyway. 

Seonghwa lets out a hearty laugh despite it sounding wet with his own tears, and he wraps an arm around Hongjoong’s shoulders as he tugs his captain close. The leader’s eyes are watery as he and the archer pile into your embrace. Mingi and Yunho follow quickly after, with the tallest of the two reaching out to snag Jongho’s tunic. The youngest is already moving, sliding beneath Yeosang’s arm to nuzzle into the healer’s side. One of his hands nestles between his lover’s ribs, resting atop your bicep. You push closer into their hands, warm and happy and still softly crying. 

You love it. 

It cannot possibly get any better than this. Not even the comforting breeze of the ocean air brushing over your skin nor the warmth of any roaring campfire could rival this feeling. There’s no warmth in the world that can surmount the heat of Ateez embracing you. Their hands carefully sweeping over skin leaves trails of pleasant heat in their wake, and the throb of your aching heart is only soothed by a soft coo leaving San’s lips. Wooyoung slides a hand over your head, pulling you closer into his neck, and you feel a bigger hand – Yunho’s, you know – scratch gently over your scalp. Another settles onto your hip, rubbing gentle circles into the bone. They’re Seonghwa’s, you recognize the calluses on his two fingers when they brush over the skin of your bare hip. Mingi’s hand settles across your back, resting between your shoulder blades. His firm touch and big hands are easy to decipher. Jongho’s wrap around your arm, strong and steadfast, just like you know him to be. Your captain’s smaller hand finds your fingers, sliding between them as you grip onto San with a fierce grip. 

Hongjoong’s hands tremble when he twists his grip to drag a line down your left ring finger. His gaze finds yours, a watery smile on his lips when your mouth parts in shock and your one eye dilated beyond comprehension. The Captain finishes drawing the line at the tip of your nail, where each of his fingers meets the end of each of yours. Then Hongjoong slides his hand into yours and squeezes three times. 

Yunho must have taught him that one. 

Because no one else has ever uttered those words to you – least of all meant them. 

Your grip tightens fervently, pulling until you can press Hongjoong’s hand into your chest and let him feel the racing pulse of your heart. It slams into your ribs with a thunderous pace, beating in a pattern you hope he can discern. You pull your head from Wooyoung’s neck just slightly. Just enough to lean down and press your lips to Hongjoong’s fingers. 

You hope he knows what it means. 

He does. 

“Happy birthday, tiny,” Yunho murmurs into the shared space between the nine of you. “We’re so happy you’re here.” 

You weep. 

Ateez spends three nights and four days at the beach. 

On the first, you don’t have the courage to venture too far into the shore. The roaring of waves crashing onto the sand is intimidating when you don’t know how to swim. You settle for watching the others splash and wrestle in the shallow sea. Their shouts of glee are enough joy to warm your heart. 

You watch Mingi grapple with Hongjoong on the shoreline, huffing softly with a grin when Mingi inevitably gets the upper hand. The guard lifts Hongjoong over his shoulder and laughs deeply as he storms his way towards the sea. 

“Put me down!” Hongjoong roars, smacking his hand against Mingi’s back. “Mingi!” 

The guard only laughs and spins the two of them in the shallows as he wades deeper into the waves. 

“Don’t you dare!” 

You watch as Mingi laughs brightly once more, calling out a “too late!” as he unceremoniously dumps his captain into the sea.  

Hongjoong dunks beneath the water with a roar, and for a moment you worry he won’t emerge again. He does, however, and lurches from the waves with an undignified shout and lunges towards Mingi as he laughs. 

“Get back here!” 

You grin and watch the two continue to wrestle in the waves. 

Jongho takes you onto the nearby rocks and shows you the wonders of tide pools. He and Yeosang spent years living by the sea, and he murmurs hundreds of little facts about each of the animals he can find. Crouching down by a shallow pool, Jongho reaches into the cool water and ever so carefully lifts a sea star from the water. He cradles it delicately, leaving it half submerged as he pulls you closer with his other hand. 

“This is a sea star,” he whispers, looking up at you and gesturing for you to crouch beside him. “You want to feel? You won’t hurt it.” 

 When you crouch at his side, Jongho pulls your hand towards him with a smile. Bent at the knees, you lean into his side and watch with a bated breath and marvel at the texture of the sea star still carefully held in Jongho’s hands. It’s soft and squishy beneath your delicate touch and you huff a smile as you watch with a mystified expression. 

You watch some of the tiny feet of the sea star wiggle in Jongho’s hand and whip your head over to face him with a question on your lips. 

Jongho is already looking at you, watching you instead of the sea star in his hands. He’s smiling, softly and sweetly, his eyes fixed on your one eye. They drift from your left one to where your right would be if not hidden behind the mask, then he drops them to your lips. Your breath stutters and you swallow shyly before Jongho lifts his eyes back to your own. 

He smiles, as if nothing happened and continues, “See the poky creatures down here? The ones that look like they have needles? Those are urchins. The sea stars will eat those.” 

It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to pull your gaze away from Jongho’s face. 

At another tidal pool, Jongho points out a creature he calls an anemone. The vibrant teal and green color of its shape mystifies you and you lean closer to investigate it. Listening carefully to Jongho’s explanation of the anemone, you look back up at him with a question in your eyes. 

“Yeah, you can touch that one too. Be careful though.” 

You don’t understand his warning but carefully drop your hand into the pool to delicately caress the anemone anyway. The chill waters surround your skin and you lean closer to touch the creature, you let out a startled squeal when its sticky tentacles wrap themselves around your finger. Surprised, you lurch away from the pool, confusion in your face and hands braced on the rock beside you. 

Jongho laughs so hard you think he might choke. 

You turn to look at him with furrowed brows and an upset pout on your lips, a little disgruntled Jongho didn’t tell you that would happen. 

The youngest continues to laugh at the utter confusion in your expression, finally bracing himself against you and apologizing. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, Bug. I couldn’t help myself!” 

You frown and push gently at his chest, posing a little miffed at Jongho’s teasing. The youngest snorts and pulls you closer to his chest, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“I won’t do it again, I promise,” he laughs. “We should wash your hands though, the stingers on those anemones can leave toxins on your skin. I don’t want you to touch your face without cleaning your hands first.”

You huff and nod, letting him lead you away from the rocks and towards the others. When you find San, you race away from Jongho and bury yourself into his chest with a pretend pout. The healer wraps you up in his embrace without question, turning to look at Jongho with a raised brow. Jongho rolls his eyes and laughs. 

Seonghwa and Wooyoung take you to collect shells in the afternoon. 

Your footprints linger in the sand behind you as you hold the archer’s hand and walk along the shoreline. The sand is packed beneath your feet closer to the shore and you find that there are all sorts of different shells just above the water line. 

You recognize some of the larger, smoother shells Yeosang and San use to store medicine sometimes. They’re scallop-shaped and hollow in the middle, and the healers like to use them for creams or other ointments. Seonghwa helps you carry some back to the healers who gratefully pile your collection into one of their packs. They can always use more shells in the medical cavern. 

Further down the beach, you find a plethora of smaller shells and drop down into the sand to rummage through them. There’s hundreds of them, some twisting into points and others round at the edges. Some are still split into pieces and others are still whole. Some are closed like a locket. Seonghwa tells you to leave those ones alone – there’s still creatures living in those ones. You gasp and carefully set the shell back down into the sand ever so delicately. The archer smiles fondly at your care for the earth and her creatures. 

One of the bigger shells that washes up on the shore catches your attention, and you rush over to the pristine, cream colored object. Yeosang called these conches. When you excitedly turn over the shell, you’re startled to find a spiny looking creature inside. A large claw grazes your hand and your heart lurches. 

You shout in surprise, jerking away from the shell with a gasp. 

“Bug?!” 

Seonghwa is at your side in an instant, hands on your back and pulling you away from the shell. “What happened?” 

 He doesn’t know why you shouted at first, too worried something has hurt you. His hands slide across your shoulders, turning you to face him and urgently scanning you for injuries. But when he looks down at the crab claw emerging from the shell, Seonghwa feels his chest shake with quiet laughter. Your head jerks back to look at the archer.

“It’s alright, darling. You just startled the crab living inside this one. He won’t hurt you, honey.”

Each shell you turn over for the rest of the day is done carefully and gently, and Seonghea feels his heart tug affectionately at how cute you look doing so. You nudge one with a stick to see if any claws come out and Seonghwa has to bury his smile in Wooyoung’s shoulder. 

“She’s so precious,” the warrior murmurs under his breath. 

Seonghwa hums in agreement, his head lifting from his partner’s shoulder to find you waving them over excitedly. 

“We’re coming, sweetheart!” 

Wooyoung settles at your side with a grin and looks down at the smooth stones in your hands. There’s a few rocks mixed in with the more ornate looking shells you’ve gathered, and Wooyoung tilts his head in an attempt to decipher why you’ve called them over. 

“What’s goin’ on?” 

Seonghwa’s heart stutters at the beaming smile on your lips. You smile more and this is not the first he’s ever seen, but each time you look up at him with that grin on your face, Seonghwa feels his stomach flutter and pride swell from his gut. He almost bites down on his bottom lip to resist sending you back a grin of his own, but Seonghwa doesn’t. And he’s grateful he does, because the way your one eye crinkles with joy when he smiles down at you makes his cheeks burn and his skin tingle. 

“Look!” You urgently whisper, swallowing around the word to repress how sore your throat is. 

Directing his attention to the dark stones in your hands, Seonghwa’s brows furrow in confusion. 

“I don’t understand.” 

You lift the stone beside his face, pulling Wooyoung into your side as you do. The two of you face Seonghwa as the archer grows more confused. The dark brown, near ebony-colored stone is lifted just beside his temple and you watch with a marveled expression as you shift your gaze from the rock to his eyes. 

“What is it?” Seonghwa urges. 

Wooyoung grins, his teeth flashing as he laughs sweetly. His two-toned hair ruffles in the breeze and Wooyoung turns to face you, squeezing your hip as he slides an arm around you. 

“That’s a good find, Bug,” he murmurs, looking back up at Seonghwa with honey in his gaze. “The same shade as his eyes. It matches him perfectly.” 

You nearly vibrate with happiness, wiggling a little in Wooyoung’s arms as Seonghwa’s eyes crinkle. “Really?” 

You nod fervently, reaching for his hand and dropping the smooth stone into his hand and curling his fingers around it. Seonghwa holds the rock carefully, not looking away from your one eye as he lifts it to press into his heart. 

“Thank you, darling.” 

You smile again, just a little twitch of your lips and nod. Then you turn to Wooyoung and weasel your way out of his grip to hold another up for him. This stone is a similar shade as Seonghwa’s, but just different enough that Seonghwa can see where you’ve matched this one to the exact hue of Wooyoung’s umber irises. 

You hold it out to Wooyoung with a tilt of your head and Wooyoung has to resist the urge to lean forward and squish your cheeks. He’s rarely seen you so excited – so… at ease. It makes every muscle in his body eager with the urge to hold you close and squeeze you tight. 

“For me?”

You nod excitedly and Wooyoung accepts the stone with a skip of his pulse. “Thank you, baby.” 

He and Seonghwa exchange looks and Wooyoung slips the stone into his pocket, where he knows he’ll keep it safe. 

“Help me?” You whisper softly, gesturing to the plethora of stones and shells beneath you. “For the others.” 

“Of course.” 

The two help you find six more stones, one of each of the other members of Ateez. Each one is the exact shade of their eyes – colors you know by heart. 

Wooyoung cannot tell you that after the trip, the rest of the boys gather to look at the stones and shells you collected for them. He doesn’t tell you that Mingi finds some twine and they braid bands for each other, carefully depositing their gifts onto string and binding them to each other’s wrists. 

On the first night, the nine of you sleep around a bonfire. 

The crackling flames keep you warm from the evening’s cool breeze, but you don’t think you sleep at all. The excitement and pure glee from the day keeps you awake. Adrenaline still roars through your veins and you settle for watching the stars for a moment longer. You find the twinkling shape of Polaris easily, and whisper your thanks up at her, just like you do every night since Jongho pointed her out. 

She winks back. 

The fire continues to crackle and the smell of wood burning soothes your nerves. Eventually, you pull yourself from your bed roll, carefully maneuvering away from Yunho’s warm chest and wrap your blanket around your shoulders. Quietly, you make your way over to the massive piece of driftwood facing the shore. 

Then, you drop silently beside Mingi, who sits and watches the sea. It’s technically his watch, but the guard faces the ocean as if he cannot bring himself to look away. 

Mingi does not startle when you find your place at his side, only shifting slightly to allow you to get comfortable. As you settle, you scooch as close as you can towards Mingi’s broad chest. Your side presses into his as you rest your weight against him and Mingi smiles, still looking at the sea. He easily accommodates your weight and wraps an arm around your shoulder, covering both your forms with his blanket. You snuggle close, burying your face into his neck and continue to watch the waves crash against the shore as the moon illuminates their peaks. 

You sit there for hours. Though you cannot sleep, excitement still pumping through your body, you find staying awake with Mingi is just as nice. Far more comforting, you’d even say. Mingi’s body heat keeps you pleasantly warm and his big arm stays wrapped around your waist. Soon after you settle, the guard drops his cheek onto your head and he breathes slow and deep. 

Even when Yeosang relieves him of his shift, taking over his place for watch, Mingi remains still. The two of you stay there until neither of you can keep your slowly fluttering lids open any longer. 

Yunho finds the two of you in the morning, and he kisses Mingi awake with a sweet grin and soft eyes. He brushes a hand through your hair and drops a kiss onto your head, eventually dropping onto your other side where he wraps an arm around both you and Mingi as the three of you watch the sunrise. 

The second day, you finally find the courage to venture into the waves with San and Yunho at your sides. Yeosang stands in the waves, waiting for you. 

San leads the way, walking backwards into the surf and holding both your hands. Yunho stands beside you, one of his arms reaching out to steady you and reassure you that he’s still there. You make eye contact with Yeosang and he winks at you. The honey-haired healer grew up in the sea. You know that if anything goes wrong, Yeosang will know what to do. 

“Let’s go, tiny. You’ve got this,” Yunho encourages, softly nudging you forward as you apprehensively toe the water line. 

You can’t swim. And you’ve never ventured into the sea before. 

It’s a little daunting, but the dimples on San’s cheeks and the smile on his lips encourages you to keep walking. You clutch his hands with a vice grip and gasp as the cold, salty waves cascade over your toes. 

“Sorry, lovebug. It’s a little cold.”

San laughs as you throw him a withering look. That information would have been helpful before you stepped into the sea. Yeosang laughs at your side, rubbing a hand along your waist and watching you shiver at the warmth of his touch. 

No matter how many times they touch you, you cannot help the way it makes you feel. 

“A little further and we can stop,” San murmurs, squeezing your hand when you stumble in the sand and pulling you closer. “C’mon, baby.” 

A few steps further and you stand at Yeosang’s side, digging your toes into the plush sand beneath your feet and marveling at how the waves lap at your knees. It’s cold, but you don’t mind since it’s a reprieve from the midday sun. When you turn your back to the sea, a strong wave pushes you closer to San and he laughs when you stumble into his chest. Water splashes upwards, and you get your first taste of seawater. 

“Woah!” San laughs, steadying you by the waist and watching as you stick your tongue out with an indignant sound. He can’t help the way laughter bubbles from his chest. You look positively betrayed by the ocean, as if the taste of salt on your tongue personally offends you. 

Yunho and Yeosang dissolve into giggles behind San, leaning onto each other to support themselves. Your one eye narrows and you shoot them an angry look, but San thinks you look more like an angry, wet cat than anything scary. Of course, he would never tell you that.

“I’m sorry, Bug!” Yunho laughs. “You just look so funny!” 

San listens to you grumble something under your breath, something that sounds like ‘showing him something funny,’ and then you bend at the waist and splash a mountain of water in his direction. 

Yunho guffaws at the betrayal and San dissolves into his own laughter, bending at the waist and bracing a hand on his chest as he cackles. Your grin is positively menacing, Yeosang decides. He wonders if you’ll become as much of a brat as Wooyoung if this continues. 

Yunho, now drenched in salt water and wet hair dripping into his eyes, enacts revenge and lunges towards you. San, ever the sweetheart, throws himself in between you and Yunho and the two sink into the waves with smiles. 

Eventually, when your skin begins to wrinkle from the time you spend in the waves and the sun begins to set, Yeosang and you step away from the shore to settle against the same piece of driftwood that marks your temporary camp. Yeosang sits atop the log and you lay just below him on the sand. You lean against his leg, just watching the rest of the boys continue to dance and swim in the surf. The sound of their laughter makes your heart happy and their gleaming smiles leave a grin of your own on your lips. 

It’s nice – smiling again, you mean. It’s a gift from Ateez they have not realized they’ve given, but you take care to treasure it regardless. 

You wrap an arm around Yeosang’s tattooed calf, your fingers occasionally dragging along the pattern of thorns that descend from his thigh. They wind around his leg, ending at the bone of his ankle and you’ve seldom been able to keep your hands away from the obsidian ink since he showed you. This, of course, is much to Yeosang’s delight, and the honey-haired healer can barely resist the way he beams so brightly when your delicate hands skim across his tattoos again. He loves it when you touch him. 

Mingi and Seonghwa leave the shoreline after a few minutes. They step away from the water to stoke the bonfire at the center of your makeshift camp. The flickering amber hues dance along burning bark and release a pleasant aroma onto the beach. You inhale deeply and lean further into Yeosang, humming happily when one of his hands reaches out to scratch along your scalp. 

Head scratches have become one of your weaknesses, you suppose. All it takes is for one of them to run their nails along your head and you’ll sink into their embrace with a happy sigh and mushy bones. 

When Mingi is satisfied with the roar of the campfire, he and Seonghwa press kisses to Yeosang’s hair and brush fingers over your hairline as they pace back towards the shore. 

A harmonious shout of glee leaves San’s lips as Jongho tackles him into the shallow surf, and there’s an uproar of laughter from amongst the boys. San shouts something along the lines of being cold and twists in the waves in an attempt to pin Jongho beneath him. Jongho, easily the strongest of the nine of you, maintains his place above San but spits salt water out of his mouth in surprise when his partner douses him with a splash. In revenge, Jongho prepares to dunk San’s head beneath the water, only to be tackled into the sea by Yunho. The youngest lets out a squawk of surprise as he sinks into the water and the laughter begins again. 

You turn your head towards Yeosang, resting your cheek against his knee and looking up at him with your one eye. You nudge him gently with your knuckles, drawing his attention to you. 

“Are you going to join them?” 

The honey-haired healer barely catches your question over the cacophony in the surf, but he smiles at the sound of your voice. He slides a hand deeper into your hair and scratches against the nape of your neck, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when your eye flutters shut briefly. 

His eyes, chocolate brown and gleaming with the flicker of flames before you, are warm and strong. They look down at you like you’re the only thing he sees – the only thing he wants to see. 

It’s familiar. This moment is too. 

Shivering gently from the weight of his gaze and bones feeling mushy and warm, you look up at Yeosang and wait patiently for his answer. 

“No, not yet,” he whispers in return, expression soft and eyes tender. “I’m very happy where I am right now.” 

You inhale deeply through your nose, recalling when he spoke the same words so long ago. The exhale that shudders through your lungs is accompanied by the sound of Yeosang’s deep, honey-sweet voice. 

“I‘m happy here with you.” 

He finally has the courage to say it. 

You look away from Yeosang so he doesn’t see the water welling in your lone eye. The stroke of thanks you brush across his skin is enough to let him know what you mean. The swell of electricity zinging beneath your skin leaves you breathless and you lean into Yeosang’s legs to combat the shift in emotion. 

The healer hums sweetly in response, unable to look away from you. He examines you as you watch his partners, lifting his head when another uproar of laughter erupts when Hongjoong overpowers Wooyoung in whatever game they’re playing in the waves. 

But when you glance back at Yeosang shyly, you see it. 

You see the way he looks at you now. 

With stars in his gaze and affection glimmering in the shine of his irises, you see the way Yeosang’s features melt so sweetly as he watches you. He looks at you the way he looks at them; like he’s staring at his very heart and soul – like there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather gaze upon than your face warmed by the flicker of roaring flames and your one eye finally staring back into his. No apprehension, this time. No fear or confusion or worry or an amalgamation of all of them together. You just… look back at him. 

Just like how he looks at you. 

When Seonghwa and Mingi rejoin the parade, kicking up salt water and spinning through the shallows, the boys cheer gleefully and begin to dance. It’s chaotic and a mess of stumbling and laughter, but it’s dancing nonetheless. The sound of their joy is infectious and spreads along the beach until it reaches you and Yeosang.

But he’s not listening to them. He’s listening to you. His ears are trained on the sound that erupts from his feet, bubbling from your lips in a noise he’s been praying to hear. 

Laughter. 

You’re laughing. 

There’s this bright, heart-stopping smile spread across your lips as you look up at Yeosang and listen to your family dance on the beach. Your shoulders shake softly with the movement of your laughter, and Yeosang can feel the vibrations of your chest pressed against his leg. It starts as a muffled giggle, barely concealed by your smile, but it deepens into a hearty laugh from deep in your belly. 

He cannot tear his eyes from you. 

You laugh. 

You laugh and you look up at him with stars in your eyes and his heart in your hands, and it takes every fiber of his strength not to lean forward and drown himself in the taste of your lips. It’s all he wants – all he needs, he swears it. One taste of your lips would sate him for life, even though he knows he’d never be able to tear himself away again. 

When you lean upwards, grabbing ahold of his fingers and pulling them towards you, Yeosang’s mouth parts to suck in a breath. 

You kiss his fingers. 

By the Gods, maybe that was a lie. One kiss would never be enough to sate him – there would never be enough of your touch or your kisses that could ever appease his soul. Even if he were immortal and your paths intertwined until the last of the stars burned from the sky, not even then would he have enough of you. 

You laugh again, grinning up at Yeosang with a toothy smile and the corner of your mouth digging into your mask. If he wasn’t already sitting, he swears he would drop to his knees at your side. 

He loves it – the sounds of your laughter. No matter how raw or croaked the sound is, he adores it. The sound of your voice once made his heart race with glee, but this… This is different. 

It’s so much more. 

This is joy. Unbridled and unashamed and so clearly you. It’s your laughter, your glee, your happiness that sinks beneath his sin and lights his nerves on fire. It’s your smile and your giggles that make his heart swell. Yeosang adores it. He adores you. 

He cannot help the way he slides off the driftwood log and into the sand at your side. Yeosang is pulling you into his chest before you can question his actions. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls your head into his neck, pressing you as tight to his chest as he possibly can. 

“You’re laughing…” he whispers as he huffs in disbelief. “Bug! You’re laughing!” 

The second time Yeosang utters the phrase, it’s shouted cheerfully as he squeezes you tight into his chest. His heart thumps brazenly beneath his ribs, and he can feel the pulse of yours against his own. You giggle again, wiggling to readjust yourself as you sink into the honey of his embrace. Yeosang’s heart trills excitedly again. 

Yunho’s head darts upwards from the beach, startled by Yeosang’s call. 

“What?” 

San hears Yunho’s whispered disbelief and stands from the surf, attention drawn over towards you and Yeosang. “What did he just say?” 

“It’s Bug,” Hongjoong answers, standing behind Yunho with his eyes blown wide. His heart stutters once in his chest as he takes in the sight of your shoulders shaking gently with your giggles. He can’t hear the sound of them, but Gods does he wish he could. “Bug’s laughing.” 

“Holy shit…” 

Yunho takes off from the beach without another word. He doesn’t even hear who curses.

Sand kicks up from his feet as he sprints towards you and Yeosang with his heart in his throat and a watery grin on his lips. He doesn’t even need to turn around to know that San is the one on his heels. Yunho knows the sound of San’s muffled sobs just as well as he knows the beat of his heart. Wooyoung is not far behind, a bubble of laughter leaving his lips and a chain missing from his wrist. Nothing binds him to that place anymore. You set him free. 

Hongjoong and Mingi chase after the others, and the Captain manages to get some revenge for the day before as he shoves his guard into the surf on the way. Hongjoong’s mirthful chuckles as Mingi shouts are heard when Jongho pulls Seonghwa behind him, urging the archer to move faster. 

“Bug!” 

Your head pulls from Yeosang’s neck, that toothy grin still on your face just as Yunho collides with you and the honey-haired healer. The two of you sway as Yunho’s weight sinks into your figures, but Yeosang sets an arm down into the sand to support you. The black and white strands of San and Wooyoung’s hair drip with salt water as they throw themselves onto Yunho’s lap with a shout. Mingi follows just after, likely having passed Hongjoong on the beach with the length of his strides. He shakes his wet hair as he clings onto Yunho’s back and Wooyoung complains despite the fact that he’s already soaking wet. The giggly sound of Mingi’s laughter makes you chuckle again.

You laugh, as if it’s as easy as breathing. 

Yeosang watches, his eyes welling with happy tears as he continues to cling onto you with one hand. He watches you giggle and the others pile into your space and listens to his new favorite sound. 

Gods, he adores you. He adores them – this family. 

Yunho is crying, his lip wobbling as he buries his head into your hair. He’s at your back, chest shaking with the sound of his watery sobs. 

“Tiny…” he cries, but it’s a happy weep. You reach around to cling onto one of his hands. Yunho squeezes you tight, stealing the air right from your lungs, but you don’t need it. You would happily breathe in the pure euphoria of this moment instead. “Tiny, you’re laughing.” 

San buries his wet hair into your lap with a joyful sound and the giggles commence again. The healer’s heart throbs so strongly but so pleasantly he thinks it will burst. You have a laugh that makes others laugh with you. Just like Wooyoung, he realizes. 

Your other hand drops from Yeosang’s back to brush through San’s hair once and the healer looks up at you with glimmering half-moon eyes and a dimple poking out of his cheek. You allow your finger to poke the sweet little spot this time. His cheek muscles ache from how big his smile is. San nuzzles closer to your stomach and you let yourself shiver pleasantly, far too happy to deny yourself the joy of this moment. 

You’re pretty, San thinks to himself. So pretty. Especially when you laugh. 

Wooyoung melts into Hongjoong’s side and the Captain wraps an arm around his shoulder. They stand just behind Yunho, burying their happy tears into each other as Seonghwa pulls them close. Mingi and Jongho sink into the sand behind Yunho and pull each other tight. The taller guard squeezes his eyes shut and presses his lips into Jongho’s forehead, desperately hoping all his adoration is conveyed through the kiss. Jongho reaches out to squeeze Yunho’s shoulder and rests his weight against his elder’s back. 

“I know,” you finally whisper into the space that separates you and Yunho. “I’m happy.” 

One hand lifts to pull the mask away from your face. Without a moment’s hesitation, your nimble fingers detangle the knot from behind you, and you drop the obsidian mask into the sand. A hand wraps around your fingers when you finally let it go. Someone draws a line along the length of your left ring finger and twines their fingers with your own. They squeeze three times. 

You repeat the gesture, tracing a finger down the fourth finger on their left hand, right over the thin, dark band you know is tattooed there. You squeeze their hand three times. This sign needs no translation. 

You open both eyes. 

“I’m so happy.” 

bonus:

stranger: so who would you choose; ateez or–

reader: ateez.

stranger: you didn't even let me finish, ateez or–

reader, not missing a beat: ateez. I choose ateez.

a/n: This currently takes place sometime after the main storyline (probably xD) so it accounts for the boys knowing parts of Bug’s past (not revealed but it’s mentioned they know). For now, I won't consider these oneshots canon simply because I won’t know where it fits in the timeline HAHA xD this is essentially just a little bit of fluffy comfort for those who have been missing Bug and the boys! I’m catching up on their story but I hope you enjoy this filler for now <33 ALSO disclaimer, don’t pick stuff out of tide pools! my marine biologist family is screaming at me for including that xD just leave the creatures alone in their habitats!

sorry if bug seems a little ooc here! Loren and I have decided that bug goes from black cat energy to golden retriever after enough time with atz :’))) This is supposed to take place sometime in the future where she’s healed a little more and is a little more curious and open. There are a lot of references to things that have yet to happen in ltm so this is kind of a teaser for those xD 

also shoutout to the loml @eightmakesonebraincell for the majority of the ideas in this :D she's a real one xD

taglist: *If you don't see your name on this taglist, you may have been removed if your tag doesn't work :( let me know if you don't see your name and I'll try to see what we can do to fix it :D

@verseoks @smallfrye @istgcyj @rensunjun @flowrsforfun @justchaoticwhispers @gayliljoong @http-lovelyknow @kpopnightingale @rielleluvs @queentiti72 @paralumanniluna @chittaphonstar @dear-dreamie @bangtanxberm @havetaeminforbreakfast @knucklesdeepmingi @pingyu-in-wonderland @5sos-wdw @atzcoke @ddeonghwva @sophxom @khjcoo @sunukissed @becauseiloveyunho @atinymonbebestay @goldenstarmermaid @simplyaghostsworld @multifandomizer @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek @revehosh @mysticfire0435 @side-angel @taestrwbrry @billboard-singer @jenseok17 @parkthothwa8 @jcngh0-hq @dream-in-progress @dees-writing-corner @frankenstein852 @darkdayelixer @ateezkeepmysoul @maruskz @ahhhhhhhhhghh @honeyhotteoks @simeonswhore @jxxngieteez

[ihavethedreamies]

Don't Poke the Bear | Jongho

Choi Jongho - ATEEZ

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~7k 🫢 (over 2k of it is smut btw)

Pairing: Bear-Hybrid!Jongho x Fox-Hybrid!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU!, Historical/Period, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Sweetheart, Sunshine, Precious, etc.), Swearing, Kissing, Hickeys/Marking, Heat/Rut, Pheromones, Oral (M! Receiving), Deepthroating/Face-Fucking, Big Dick! Jongho (of course), Size Differences, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Cockbulge, Over-Stimulation, Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…)

Trigger Warning: There is mentions of guns in this, but its just a revolver and the reader shoots it once at a target. That's it.

Disclaimer: I do have the whole cock-bulge thing in this. I understand this could be a bit offensive to some who are on the heavier side (I am in that group as well). Sorry if this doesn't align with your body type, this is just a work of fiction.

Author's Note: This is NOT Omegaverse, but there is a mention of Jongho being an 'alpha'. They have animals ears and tails. Jongho is bigger here than he is in real life, probably about 6'5"/196 cm, since he's a bear hybrid. This is set in about Wild West times, so around 1830s, but it's not a Western themed story.

I will be doing all the members and uploading them as I go. I normally like to upload a whole series at a time but I'm trying to pack to move.

-> Series Hub <-

🦁 Hongjoong's 🦁

🐕 Yeosang's 🐕

🐯 San's 🐯

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

When your stomach groaned, again, you groaned back.

"Shut up, I'm looking." you told it. You got no response. Sighing deeply, you stumbled a bit on a root, catching yourself with a hand on the tree trunk. You had no idea why, but for the last two days, you hadn't been able to find any prey. Sniffing in distaste, you held up an arrow, looking at the completely clean arrowhead. Letting your arm down, the arrow laid at your side. You glanced down at your other slack arm, bow held in that hand. What's the point of having a weapon if there is nothing to kill to eat with it? You wondered what full foxes did when they couldn't find anything to eat. Starve? No, the probably moved on to a different area. A bit harder to do that when you had settled in the area nearly four months prior and had no intention of leaving. Your semi-permanent shelter was finally finished, nice and cozy, and you loved the area you were in. Normally it was simple to get food, just step outside your hut and shoot a hare out in the field. When you were not able to see anything, you instead would go deeper into the woods that your home lay at the edge of. But there was even less there, if it was possible. You were getting closer to the river, but you weren't very good at fishing. Hitting a rabbit or squirrel with an arrow is actually much easier than a fish. Might have to try though, since you had run out of food completely the day prior. It was late fall, getting closer to winter, and so there wasn't really anything to forage for either. Everything had been eaten by deer or other animals. Since you were hungry, so hungry, your steps were uneven and clumsy.

"Fuck!" Your long tail caught on the thorns of some bush, knocking you down to your knees. Yanking the appendage to free it, you yiped, looking back at the branches to see a tuft of rusty orange fur left behind. Running your hands over your tail, the spot wasn't noticeable, but it stung. Scratching the back of your ear at the top of your head, you got back up, continuing toward the water. You could hear the river water rushing over some rocks, most likely a short waterfall. Before you could even see the river though, you saw a building to your left. Getting closer, it was a fairly large shelter, much bigger and nicer than yours. An actual cabin rather than a weird cross between a tent and a hut. It was most likely older and whoever had built it also most likely had known what they were doing. What really caught your eye though, was the fish strung up on a line between two wooden poles. Your mouth watered, one of the giant salmon would easily feed you for a week if you cured it properly and rationed it. You felt your tail wag a bit at the thought and you eagerly stalked forward. The thought of who had caught the fish, and who the dwelling belonged to didn't even cross your mind, way too hungry.

"Come to mama~" You giggled and right when your long claw-like nails got close to pulling the fish off the line, someone grabbed the back of your shirt. Yelping in shock, you felt your feet leave the ground, just an inch or two, your captor easily lifting you. Your legs scrambled helplessly in the air as you floundered, hands going to grapple at the one holding you. The person lifted you even higher in retaliation and so you wiggled and squirmed harder.

"Let me go!" you shouted and that seemed to work, but then you landed hard on your butt.

"Ow, fuck!" You scrambled to get up and to your feet, spinning to see who the heck had grabbed you. What human was stupid enough to mess with a fox hybrid- Bear. Bear hybrid, that's who. Not a human. Your ears pressed back and down against your skull, tail tucking between your legs, no longer snapping back and forth. The male raised an eyebrow and you got a good look at his face. He was gorgeous. All of him, really, not just his face. That, though, very handsome. He was covered from the neck down in dark brown hide, the arms and collar of his jacket lined with thick fur. You didn't know if his pants were so tight from their cut or if his thighs were just that thick, and you honestly hoped for the latter…Or did you? He was thick with muscle all over. He shifted his stance, hands resting on his belt, standing over you, staring. The dominance emanating from him struck through you, and you weren't sure if you should feel scared or aroused. You had met bear hybrids before, that's not what was doing it, it was something from him. It made you wonder…

"A-are you an alpha or something?" you boldly asked. There were some predator hybrids that seemed to be more in touch with their animal nature than others, and he sure seemed like one of them.

"I'm not a canine." He spoke down to you, literally, he was fucking massive. The top of your head barely reached his chin.

"I-I know…"

"Only canines have alphas."

"Then what are you?" He scoffed at your brazen question.

"Why should I answer, vixen, when you came here to steal my food?" He started to walk toward you, so you pounced to the side, turning to keep your face toward him. You watched his hands go to the hook holding the salmon, taking it down off the line. Your tail whipped once, nervously, and you hoped he couldn't hear your heart pounding. You weren't sure how you felt about him, how to feel about how much bigger he was than you, stronger. He smelled so fucking good too-

"I-I'm hungry, okay?! I haven't had any meat in two days!" You tried to defend yourself, your voice cracking pitifully.

"You say that like you don't normally steal." His sneer was evident in his tone and you scoffed hard.

"I don't!"

"You're a fox, right?"

"Not all foxes steal! You big…brute!" He didn't respond, just walked around the pole holding one end of the line, toward the front of his cabin.

"H-hey!" You knew you should have taken the chance to flee, that would have been smart, but instead you trailed after him. Those fish looked too good, and you noticed he was easily carrying the string of five over his shoulder. His big boots thumped across the hard, cold ground, your much lighter feet barely making a sound. When you caught up to him, coming around the cabin, he was laying the fish down on a wooden table it looked like he might have made himself.

"D-do you cook them?" Your mouth watered. You preferred your meat cooked, that was probably the human part of you, but the fox part of you could eat raw if necessary.

"I-if…If I do something for you in return, can I have a fish?" you asked, stepping forward carefully, tail snapping behind you. You were pointing at the one you had been reaching for, which was the smallest one.

"What could you do for me, vixen?" He was standing back up again, hands on his belt. Why did he have to just stand like that? There was no need. Did he just stand like that normally? His question registered then, and your brain kicked into gear trying to think of an answer. You had offered help, but that didn't mean you knew what kind of help. That was his part of the exchange.

"What do you want me to do…he-bear?" For the life of you, you couldn't think then of what a male bear was called. He huffed at your attempt to match his confidence. Your eyes flitted to his chest, shirt struggling and stretching over his chest just from him breathing.

"Jongho."

"What?"

"My name. Please don’t ever call me 'he-bear' again."

"Oh…Jongho. Uh, I'm (Y/N)."

"Can you climb?"

"Climb?"

"Can you climb a tree?"

"Oh, yes." Your eyes followed his thumb when he jabbed it toward his left. You glanced around him toward where he was pointing, an apple tree. It was huge, you wondered how long it had been there.

"Go get as many as you can." He picked up a basket from under the table, easily chucking it toward you. You managed to catch it, maybe fumbled with it a bit, and headed over to the tree. Maybe you could grab a couple of them…

"Where did you get an apple tree?" You called behind you as you approached it, "aren't they normally in human areas?"

"I sell to humans."

"Sell? Sell what?" You wrapped your tail through the handle of the basket, curling it up to hold it up as you climbed up the tree. He was probably tall enough to get at the apples himself, but it would be easier to get them climbing.

"Furs. Wood and metal work." You sat on a branch, putting a narrow branch through the handle of the basket to hold it for you as you plucked a red fruit off a twig. It smelled so good, but he would notice if you took a bite. Dropping it into the basket, you continued, noticing which ones weren't quite ripe yet.

"Metal work?" You peered through the branches of the apple tree, noticing a side building right next to his cabin, a blacksmithing forge inside.

"Wait, you've worked with full humans?"

"Yes."

"Have you seen those little guns they carry? That don't need powder and a ball?" You had picked about ten apples by then, balancing on the branch to try and reach an eleventh. He didn't respond, so you glanced past the leaves to where he was at the table, and he went to a pouch on his belt. He opened it, pulling out a revolver.

"Woah!" You beamed in awe, not paying attention to where you where crawling on the branch. You yelped as it bowed under your weight, making you lose your balance. You closed your eyes, ready to fall. It wasn't too far, you wouldn't die, but it sure would hurt.

"Oof!" You did land on something hard, just not the ground. The wind got knocked out of you as you fell face down onto Jongho, middle on his shoulder. While you caught your breath, coughing a few times, he unlatched the basket and carried both you and it back over to the table. The basket was set on the end of the table and he then let you down to sit on the other end. Even up on the surface, you had to tilt your head to look him in the eye. You rubbed your sore middle, though it was much less painful that it would have been to bellyflop onto the ground. The bear noticed your eyes flit to the little gun still on the table, and he sighed. Grabbing it, he popped the rotating barrel out, shaking the little bullets out, then handed you the unloaded gun. Taking it carefully with both hands, you were surprised at its weight. It was heavy for its size, but much lighter than a musket. He continued to work on the fish, cleaning them or something, eyeing you as you curiously looked at the revolver.

"Man, this would be so much easier to hunt with."

"It's different than aiming a bow." He scoffed, swiping the weapon back from you, reloading it.

"Show me?"

"You're awful demanding." Jongho scolded, holstering the gun back to his belt. You sniffed in disappointment, swinging your legs a bit from where you sat up on the table, watching him work.

"If I feed you, will you leave me be?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"No." You liked to be honest. He sighed, putting his thin knife down.

"I'll leave you be if you show me how to shoot it."

"Why does it matter if you don't have one yourself?" You shrugged in response. He couldn't decide if you were annoying or endearing. He stood up straight, stepping closer to you, so he was standing right before you. Your ears dropped a bit, tail lying flat from where it had been thumping on the wood softly. He was so freaking big. You felt a familiar twinge in your tummy, and your thighs clenched. His eyebrow raised, nostrils flaring slightly and your eyes widened in panic. Could he smell your arousal? So easily? The bear sighed deeply then, "Come here." He took the gun back out and you hopped off the table to follow him as he headed around a big tree. When you came around as well, you saw that there was a circle carved into another tree a bit in distance.

"Hold it up, arm straight out, level it. Then, line this little piece up with where you want to shoot." His thumb flicked at the sight piece.

"Pull the hammer back with your thumb, then press the trigger with your index finger. You'll have to press harder than you think." He snapped the barrel back out, rotated it to check the rounds, then snapped it back shut, handing it to you. You followed his instructions, keenly aware of him at your back. You stood much the same way you did for archery, but he corrected you. He brought his hand to your bicep, bringing it up so you gripped the gun with both hands instead. To compensate, you turned your body a bit more toward the target. You clicked the hammer back, that took more strength than you thought too, and wrapped your finger around the trigger. Breathing in, steadying your aim, you lined the sight up. As you breathed out, you pressed hard like he coached and the gun went off. It was so much louder than you expected, your ears flattening to your skull, body recoiling along with the weapon. You stumbled back into his solid chest, ears ringing painfully. You narrowed your vision toward the target. You didn't get a bullseye, but you did at least hit inside the target circle. That feat pulled your body out of shock from the loud bang and you beamed, cheering.

"I did it!" You jumped in excitement and he quickly took the still smoking gun from you. He holstered it once more and couldn't help but let out a small huff of laughter as you cheered for yourself. Endearing, he decided, cute even.

~*~*~

"D-do I rotate it?" You looked over at him, sitting on a log bench by the fire pit. He had cleaned, filleted and skewered the salmon, letting the pieces roast by the fire. Jongho had set them in the dirt, skin facing the flames more, tilted toward the heat.

"It's fine." He had brought the basket of apples over and you watched him roll one in his hand. His eyes flicked to your face, wanting to see your reaction, as he gripped the fruit with both hands, splitting it perfectly in half with ease.

"Woah!" Your face lit up and he couldn't hold back a smug grin. Holding the two halves easily in one hand, he held it out for you, and you sprung to your feet from your own log bench. Skipping over, you took the two halves from him, the scent making your mouth water. Sinking your teeth into the flesh, you groaned in delight. You hadn't had the pleasure of eating an apple before. Crab apples, yes…but those are absolutely horrible. The bear could tell you were honest about being so hungry with how fast you devoured the fruit. When you were left with the two pieces of the core, you hiccupped. Your face grew more and more displeased with each hiccup, growing annoyed with the process.

"Geez." You breathed hard, trying to control your throat, but you hiccupped again, a slight pain blossoming in your chest.

"Fucking hell." You swore softly, then let out another hiccup.

"Geez!" You groaned, then your tummy rumbled, and a gas bubble erupted. You kept your mouth closed to muffle the noise, minding your manners, and the seizes stopped.

"Thank goodness." You sighed and Jongho couldn't help but chuckle. So cute. He was a little upset with how cute you were growing to him.

"What?" You whined a bit, feeling self-conscious.

"You're cute, vixen." Your tail snapped in embarrassment.

"I have a name." You corrected coyly, not able to look at him, face warming. You almost added on 'he-bear', but he had said please…

"(Y/N), you're cute." He fixed his compliment and you sniffed, secretly pleased.

"And?"

"And what?" You weren't sure what you were expecting, honestly.

"Uh…"

"Whatever, sweetheart." The little pet-name wasn't condescending or patronizing, and your entire body froze.

"D-don't." you whispered and he rose a brow in question, looking up from a second apple.

"Don't?"

"D-don't call me that…"

"Why not?" The bear smirked; you could see it from your peripheral. Your cheeks were quite red by that point. You didn't answer, focusing on watching your fish cook. He let it go, chuckling softly to himself.

~*~*~

"It's hot-" He warned, but it was too late. The hot fish stung your tongue, but you were much too hungry to care. Waving the skewer it was on, like that would cool it off, you blew hard on it a few times, then took another bite. You devoured the fish, much like the apple, he was surprised you ate the whole filet.

"T-Thank you." You wiped at your mouth with your forearm, handing the skewer back to him. He took the whittled bone from you and it seemed you were getting ready to leave, picking up your bow and quiver.

"You live nearby?"

"Oh, yeah, just a few meters that way." You waved in the general direction. The sun was setting by then, the cold setting in.

"In that half-tent?"

"It’s a hut!" You tried to defend your shelter since you built it yourself. He stood then, and you wondered what he was doing, coming toward you.

"There's a storm coming, I'll help you get your things, you can stay here tonight."

"A storm? Like snow? Already? Wait, what!?" He walked past you toward your home and you gaped after him like the fish you just ate. Shaking your head to gather your senses back, you trotted after him. You were a bit out of breath by the time you got to your dwelling, you couldn't even see the fire from his place.

"B-but this is where I live, I'll be okay!" You seemed to be trying to convince yourself of that as well.

"Get your stuff." He jerked his head toward your hut and you huffed but did so. If there really was a snowstorm coming, you would prefer the much sturdier and less drafty cabin he had. You were able to gather everything except the structure itself with his help and he went slower for you on the way back. You wondered how the heck you had never noticed his cabin before, but you also never went that far into the woods, let alone so close to the river. As you passed the cursed bush that tore a chunk of your fur out, you sneered down at it, wrapping your tail around your leg to keep it safe. You heard him huff out a laugh, and you glared at his rounded black ears, one of them flicking slightly. At first you were a bit ruffled by his suggestion, but you were growing grateful as some snowflakes started to fall. Plus, ultimately, he was being kind. You thought he was going to set you up in his smithing lean-to, or maybe even just under the shelter of the room over his porch. But he had opened the door to his cabin, bringing your stuff with him. The bear looked over his shoulder at you, waiting for you to follow. Once inside, you looked around. To your left was a table with a water jug and basin and to the right a large cedar chest. There was a sitting area with an actual couch and a fireplace. Right across from the door on the other end of the one-room cabin was the bed, big and with a mattress. It must really pay to trade with humans… You watched him set your belongings against the wall near the bed and you noticed a little side room.

"You have an attached outhouse?!" You gaped at the luxury and he hummed. Not really an outhouse if it was attached… You set your stuff you had carried next to his load and looked more around his home. The couch looked comfy, but you had little perspective, never having the luxury of sitting on one. It did beat sleeping on a bedroll, you assumed, and you were a bit worried that you wouldn't want to go back.

"I take up a lot of the bed, but you're tiny." His comment threw you out of your thoughts, nearly giving yourself whiplash with how hard you turned to look at him.

"W-what?"

"It's going to get really cold, even with the fire on. It'll be warmer." He stated and you realized he was right. Still, your insides flopped at the thought. It was hard enough being around him, and how good he smelled, let alone in a room that smelled mostly of him. Could you really handle sleeping next to him…just sleeping? You swallowed, you weren't due for a heat for a while, but he was extremely attractive. The fact that he was a bear should have lessened your desire, but no. The unfamiliar, the new experience, the size difference…

"What are you thinking about, sunshine?" Jongho had walked past you to shut the door, pulling out a small box. Matches. You had never seen them at work before, so you stepped closer, watching him scratch the little red end of the wood piece on the side of the box, flame erupting out of thin air. He lit the oil lamps he had, casting a soft warm glow around the room, seemingly right as the sun set beyond the horizon. You didn't make a comment on the little pet-name, though it wasn't much easier to process than 'sweetheart'.

"C-can't you just use my name?" You sniffed, moving around him to sit on the couch. The leather-covered cushion sunk under your butt and you let out a silent 'wow' at the plush feeling. The bear chuckled, moving around to join you on the couch. You scooted over to allow him room, he took up much more space than you. He rested back, arm slung to the side over the back, right behind you. His feet were firmly planted on the floor, knees wide, and he sat on the couch like he was a king on his throne. The confident dominance wafted over you again and your core pulsed. Biting your lip, you looked away from him quick, and Jongho smirked at your sudden rigid posture. He watched the tip of your tail as the end thumped lightly on the cushion. You squeaked when he carefully ran his fingers over the orange fur, right where you had a tuft ripped out.

"What happened?"

"You can notice it?" You whined, looking at the spot, trying to ignore that he was still touching your tail. His eyes flitted to your ear as it flicked in annoyance.

"It got snagged on some thorns earlier."

"Did it hurt?"

"Stung a bit…" You flinched when a sudden gust of wind rattled the door and shutters on the window. Your ears flicked when a distant rumbling travelled through the air.

"Thunder?" You could have sworn that's what you heard, but that would be weird. When it happened again though, it was confirmed.

"It can thunder in a snowstorm?" You wondered aloud and the bear hummed, fingers once again stroking over the fur of your tail. Goosebumps rose on your skin, the fur raising a bit along with it.

"I'm gonna use the outhouse!" You stood up quickly, pulling your tail out from under his hand and curling it toward yourself. As you did so, you could smell your own arousal, and hoped that since your pants would be back up, he wouldn't be able to as well. Going back into the house, you sighed at the warmth, he already had a fire going. It was rapidly getting cold and you could hear the wind whipping along with a low distant rumble. Despite the fire, you knew he was right about it getting pretty cold. Gently sitting on the edge of the mattress, you tried to ignore how soft it was, and took off your boots. Slipping off your vest, you climbed up further on the bed, bouncing a bit in delight.

"Move over, sunshine." He motioned for you to follow, since you were in the middle of the bed. You bounced on your butt to do so, too enamored with the mattress to really focus on him.

"Ah!" You squeaked when he wrapped his arm around you, lifting you with ease so he could pull the blankets out from under you and back. Your face was rapidly heating along with your lower stomach and you finally looked over him as he got in the bed. He had taken off his bear hide coat, leaving him in just a light brown henley shirt. The ends of the sleeves had been rolled up to rest right below his elbows and you marveled at the evident muscle there.

"Sleep, (Y/N)." Jongho had laid back, adjusting his head on the pillow and you slowly followed suit. You nearly moaned in delight at the feeling of the mattress cradling you, the pillow under your head just as soft. Yep, you never wanted to sleep on a bedroll again. You were startled out of your thoughts when he pulled the blankets up and over you, rolling onto his side so he could face you. He propped himself up on his palm, elbow to the bed, delicately resting the end of the blanket up near your chin. Your face burned hot, and you nestled into the bedding to hide.

"Th-thank you for letting me stay here for the storm…" You mumbled and he hummed, finally resting down himself, still facing you. When he pulled the blanket up and over himself, you felt the heat rapidly rise under the covers. You had never felt so warm and cozy in your life, and you suddenly felt your weariness. Blinking, trying to stay awake, you looked over his face, vision hazy from sleepiness. He was…

"So handsome." You muttered, barely registering you said it aloud, and he had heard it. The bear smirked at the compliment.

"Get some sleep, pretty girl." His clawed finger came up and brushed a strand of hair off your face and you couldn't help but follow his instruction.

~*~*~

Probably only an hour or two later, you were forced awake by a flash of light, a booming rumble, then the sound of wood snapping. You had rolled over onto your stomach, so you propped yourself up on your elbows underneath you. The blanket hung over your head, but you could see through the shutters of the window to the side of the bed. You had heard of a thundersnow before but had never experienced one. You shivered at the cool air hitting your face, it was so nice and warm under the blankets. Burrowing back under, you rolled to your side, facing the bear. You had nearly forgotten he was right there and you found your face right against his chest. It rose and fell as he slept, and you were a bit surprised he didn't snore, like…you know, like a bear.

Swallowing hard to steel your nerves for your next move, you slowly reached out, pressing your fingertips against the hard muscle of his chest. You shivered, wanting to feel over him more, see him…

"Haven't you heard not to poke a sleeping bear, sunshine?" His voice rumbling startled you. It was deep and rough from sleep and you rolled your eyes back a bit at how it made you feel, and his comment.

"Yeah, and?" You did it again, pressing just one finger against his chest that time, literally poking him. Poke. Poke. Poke.

"Huh?" You felt the bed shift, and he rolled, propping himself up over you on his forearm, pinning you to the mattress. Your hands were clenched into fists at your chest, holding them close to you for security. His face was so close, and you could feel the breath leaving his nostrils. As he loomed over you, he shifted his knee up, his thick leg wedging between yours. You shivered, letting out a small whine when his thigh pressed against your mound. Jongho smirked, leaning down so his mouth was right by your ear.

"Your decision. See what poking a bear does." You loosened one fist, index finger sticking out, shaking. Poke. His large hands suddenly seized your hips, claws slightly digging into the flesh of your ass through your pants. With his grip, he pressed your core against his thigh, forcing you to grind over him. You sighed at the feeling; a bit of a whine laced through the exhale. He shifted his knee further forward and hauled you up so he could wedge it under your lower back. Jongho led you to wrap your legs around his middle, still pressing you down to grind your covered cunt on his upper thigh. That pulled a moan from you and you gasped hard when he started laying open-mouthed kisses over your neck and shoulder. A low rumble hit your ears and at first you thought it was more distant thunder, but then you could feel it as you pressed your hands to his chest. Your fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt and you moaned as his kisses turned to sucking, and he barely dug his sharp teeth into your shoulder. Without his, or your prompting, your hips jumped, and he pressed into your movement. The bear's cock was growing hard, and your eyes fluttered closed when you felt it. Could he even fit?

"Are you sure about this, sunshine?" He pulled away, smirking as he admired the growing bruises he created over your shoulders and neck.

"Yeah, why?" Your eyes met his as a bolt of lightning lit the room, then thunder rumbled, snow blowing harsh against the window.

"Think your little body can handle me?" Jongho tilted his head, that smirk still there and you purposely moved your hips, whining.

"Yes!"

"You sure?"

"Would you just fuck me already?" You nearly shouted. He didn't answer, but your next plea was silenced as he swallowed it, tongue easily wiggling its way into your mouth. Your eyes rolled back as his hands dug into the flesh of your hips, avoiding using his claws too much. When your head started to swim, he pulled back from the kiss, smirking at the end of your tongue sticking out a bit from your mouth. One hand went to your jaw, thumb slipping into your mouth, and you eagerly sucked on it, tongue avoiding the sharp part of his claw.

"Want something else, sunshine?" Jongho grinned deviously as you nodded, whimpering. He got off of you then and you immediately missed not just the weight of him over you, but the heat his body was releasing. You just started in awe as he finally pulled the shirt off, and his muscle was clearly from strength, brute strength, not to look good. Though…he did.

"Hurry up, sunshine." His hand gripped over the bulge in his pants, and you rapidly sat up, your own hands going to the waist band. He watched calmly as you struggled to get the button undone and you bit your lip as you got his pants open. His hard cock nearly sprung out and you felt your mouth water at the sight, jaw already sore. Your long fluffy tail waved behind you, ears drooping as your small hand tried to wrap around his girth. Couldn't even get your fingers to touch and your cunt spasmed, telling you it was good and ready for him. Licking your lips to try and prevent the drool from dripping too bad, you stuck just the head in your mouth, tongue eagerly swirling. The salty drop of precum you tasted just fueled the fire and your eyes lazily flitted up to meet his. The look he gave you nearly made you whine; you didn’t know what bears called alphas, but he sure was one. Jongho's eyebrow crooked up, waiting boredly, and swallowed a few times, then eased him further in. It was a bit hard to keep your teeth behind your lips with how big his cock was, but he fit. The slight pressure from the sides of your long canines just added to the pleasure of your hot and wet mouth, drool already spilling from your lips. His eyes watched your tail wave back and forth, chest starting to rumble again as you took more of his cock. The head hit your throat, he was only about halfway in and you swallowed again, tongue eagerly slicking the underside of his dick. Your eyes met again and he barely seemed phased, so you sucked hard, your other hand joining the first to cover more of him. Bobbing your head, you hollowed your cheeks, whimpering at the taste of him. His large hand landed on your head, thump stroking the soft skin on the inside of your ear and you shifted your posture. Sitting back on your knees more, you widened your legs to lower you some, and let go with your hands.

"You sure, sunshine?" Jongho's smirk had come back and a full growl rumbled through the room when you nodded. Sucking air in harshly through your nose, swallowing to try and prevent your gags, he took charge, easing his cock in himself. When the fat head hit the back, he continued in, groaning as your eyes fluttered back. Your breathing was loud and fast, trying to take in enough air so when he finally filled your throat, you could hold your breath a bit. The spasms of your throat with your gags made him chuckle and he started to pump his hips, fucking his cock into your mouth. The slick sounds of your spit and lolling tongue were almost drowned out by the storm, but he could clearly hear your whines. He could feel them vibrating over his dick as well and he paid attention to your breathing and paced his thrusts.

"You thirsty, sunshine?" The bear laughed when your next whine was louder and he grunted, waiting for your breath. Once you had inhaled hard, he plunged in so your nose was pressed to his groin, hot thick spurts of cum going straight down your throat. Your cunt spasmed, slick dripping nearly through your pants, clit throbbing as you rode your high against the thick seam. Your vision started to blur, brain fogging, still swallowing over and over to get all he gave down, and he finally withdrew so you could suck in air. Your throat was raw, sore, but you would let him do it all over again and thank him for it too. Now that his high had faded, though his dick was still rock hard, he could smell the thick aroma of your arousal. You smelled like spring grass and fresh water, laced with the sweet scent of marigolds.

"Lay back, sunshine." He prompted and you flopped back onto your back, body shivering, though it wasn't clear from what. There was a dark stain on the crotch of your pants, he noticed as he took his off. You were hauled to sit up as he tugged at your shirt, tearing a few runs into it as he pulled it off of you and you squeaked as he wrestled your leather leggings off. They flopped onto the floor behind him and your scent had grown further, making his pupils narrow, brow furrowing. You eagerly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders when he crawled over you, nose running up your throat. Jongho nearly roared as he growled, grasping your thighs, pulling back so he could manhandle you. Your knee ended up at your ear, the other looped over his elbow and your eyes could only focus on his fat cock head pressing against your folds.

"Fuck!" You threw back your head, back arching when he pressed in, not rough but not slow either. With all your strength, you lifted your head to watch your cunt flutter to accommodate the stretch, core burning. He realized then maybe he should have prepped you a bit, your pussy was so tight, that if you weren't so wet, he wouldn't be able to fill you so easily. You both, at the same moment, noticed that there was already a bulge forming from your stomach, his thick cock not even in all the way. You should have known the minute he kissed you before that you were ruined, but now it was for sure. You knew you would be sore in the morning too, but you would prefer being sore the rest of your life as his bed partner than to never fuck him again. His deep chuckle morphed into a grunt as he bottomed out, slick spilling from your stretching hole and onto the bed below. If he had known that you were only about a mile from his home, your cute little face and cute little pussy, he would have gone and found you himself.

"Jongho~" You nearly howled, hands reaching for him, out of his reach from sitting up straight. Adjusting your legs, while letting your core adjust to him, he pressed down close so your hands could find purchase on his back. Your ankles were at his ears, hot breath panting against his lips.

"You like my cock, precious?" The new pet-name was even worse than the others, and he could tell by how your gummy walls pulsed harder around him. His plush lips brushed over yours, then he felt you gasp into his mouth with the kiss, his groin pressing against your swollen clit. He watched your eyes glaze over, body falling limp as he pulled his hips back, giving a shallow and weak thrust, gaging if your body was ready.

"Too much?" The bear cooed when you shook your head no.

"More?" He prompted and that time, you shook your head yes. You should have guessed how powerful he could be, but you still weren't expecting the bed frame to crack against the wall with the first thrust. Your body screamed, but no sound left you as Jongho moved to press your knees to your ears, each deep, hard thrust forcing a tiny orgasm out of you. Your cunt burned from the stretch and stimulation, and your brain was fried. Good thing you were out in the woods with a storm raging, because you were squeaking and squealing, grunts and groans leaving him as well. Jongho rolled forward a bit more, hips barreling his cock down into your folded body, his thick claws leaving deep gouges into the wood as he gripped the headboard.

"Want my cum, precious? Huh, want my fat cock to fuck you stupid? Hm?" His tone was incredibly patronizing and it went straight to your cunt. You had left a puddle on the bedding beneath your hips and a mix of your drool and tears had left one on his pillow too. The cold from the snowstorm seemed to have been completely negated by the heat you felt, from him and because of him.

"Fill me, please! Jongho~" He wasn't sure why that time was different, the way you moaned his name, but it went to his head and his cock, orgasm hitting. Hot waves of cum filled you, the head of his dick pressed right against your cervix, so much slick and release squirting out from where you were connected. His hips continued to roll a bit, and you wondered how he was still so hard after pumping so much cum into you, and your poor pussy was stinging from the countless numbed of times he made you cum. You barely knew your name or where you were, let alone what you had let slip before.

"Like my big cock, precious?" The bear smirked when your droopy eyes flew open, ears flicking, tail started to thumb against the bed.

"You did good for me, sunshine." He was getting into it then, loving your reaction, face reddening further, cunt clenching around him more. It was like you were a dog, tail wagging for being a good girl. You yiped when he pulled out from you, the rapid loss took the air out of your lungs. He rolled you over and you couldn't hold yourself up at all, so only his hands on your hips kept them raised. You keened when the head of his messy cock met your equally messy folds once more and he didn't ease in that time. He somehow got even deeper, hips slapping against your ass so hard that you were sure the skin would be red and stinging soon. Your own claws gouged into the wood of the headboard, not able to do anything but take what he gave you, sweat coating both your bodies.

"Don't worry precious, I won't break you." The bear laughed, grinding his cock deep, as you came once more, the sting was fading into pain and you feared he could go much longer.

"Just. A. Bit. More." He grunted, chest rumbling and fell over the edge again, the heat inside you reignited as more hot white painted your core.

"Going to stay here with me? Be my cute little vixen?" His sudden question barely registered in your head, exhaustion taking over.

"Okay~"

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[everythingne]

you have me and I have you -- DR3

Taking the twins to meet Daniel at a race nearly ends in disaster for the youngest, luckily you remember a little saying that goes a long way for when her emotions get too big for her all weekend away from her favorite person on the planet.

daniel ricciardo x wife!mother!reader

warnings/notes: probably inaccurate f1 information (specifically with where they live but idc its my fic), i'm not going off any actual timeline of real events dude this is just vibes, maxiel content bursting out of this fic, might make this little family a series i dunno, i don't have the most knowledge of daniel's career so mind some gaps

--

You and Daniel lived an exceptionally private life--surprisingly. Alpha Tauri's home base was in Faenza, Italy. And when Daniel was announced to be driving for them, you both tossed around a few different city names until Max of all people found you both a quaint little house just outside of the main touristy parts of Ravenna.

Somehow the world champion knew the both of you would find it was a perfect spot to nestle in for the time being. You knew that once the girls really got into school, like proper schooling, you'd have to settle them near Daniel's family. That's what you'd agreed to do when you planned to return to teaching full-time, but for now, Ravenna worked beautifully.

And it was beautiful too.

You had moved and traveled a lot with Daniel due to his career, it had never bothered you in the near decade the both of you had been together. The two of you never fought, sure you argued, but nothing hateful. It was usually a 'stop overthinking this' or 'stop overworking yourself on that' and with two perfectionists who adored their careers and families it could get a bit tense. But, you loved Daniel more than anything, and he loved you just the same. So it always worked out in the end.

Three years dating, one year engaged, seven years married, five years parents. Parents. Two beautiful twin daughters, you hadn't not been trying for kids, and though the girls were a surprise, they were happily welcomed by the Ricciardo's and your family when announced. And of course their loads of F1 uncles, like Max, Yuki, Lando, and of course Pop Pop and Grannie Horner, who had just about died when the youngest of the two twins--Rosella, called them that without you or Daniel prompting her to.

"She speaks the truth!" Daniel had laughed when Geri scooped the little girl up in her arms and squeezed her, kissing her forehead. Max had just laughed for like ten minutes at Christian's face before the man finally made some remark that he was "finally old enough for that title."

And then a few months later little Penelope would do the same, with a quite similar reaction.

Life in Ravenna was perfect, and you had been blessed with a remote job that allowed you to work anywhere making your life a breeze of constant travel, love, and spending nights alongside your husband or his family and friends in lavish hotels for grand prix.

Speaking of Grand Prix, it was time to get the girls moving. The two of them, Rosella Grace Ricciardo and Sienna Michelle Ricciardo, are currently settled with their suitcases beside them in the living room as you finish unplugging the necessary items and locking up the house. Rosella was playing with her stuffed bear, idly singing some song her grandparents had been trying to teach her, and Sienna was currently trying to repack her bag that you had so meticulously put together.

"Si, stop messing with your bag, sweetheart." You try to not let any annoyance sink into your tone but fail a little as you make your way to the foyer.

"Sorry, Momma." Sienna pouts and hides in on herself, her big brown eyes and bouncy curls making you think of her father--who was currently in a car going god knows how fast on the track. Max had been the one to invite you to Miami, saying it would be good to get the girls there to surprise Daniel.

What he hadn't thought of was how hard it is to get two twins through the airport, who look exactly like Daniel Ricciardo, without raising any eyebrows because this was their first appearance at the track since they were toddlers and didn't look like much of anyone except for having Daniel's undoubtedly huge smiles.

"Hey," you say, but don't explain the sentence that brings both of your daughters immediate calm, "You have me and I have you."

The sentence, something from the night before you married the girl's father basically equated to 'we've got this, don't freak out, I'm not mad and you're gonna be fine.' and whatever else it needed to at the moment and it had been a constant in the past seven or so years of your life.

And Sienna calms herself immediately, nodding at you.

You peck a kiss to Sienna's hairline as you repack her bag, "All better, nothing to be sad about, okay?"

She nods, taking her bag and helping her sister grab her stuff as you get them out to the car. The two are pretty well-behaved by now and have learned when to do as you ask and when it's okay to play around a little. You thank Daniel for that, he'd always set a good example. Once everything is in the trunk, you secure the girls in their seats and then thank one of the women you'd become close with down the road for driving you to the airport.

Natalie grins, patting your shoulder as you settle in with a big huff, "I just wish you luck getting them through the airport by yourself! Usually, you have Michelle with you."

"Well, Michelle's unable to come to Miami because she's working, so it's just me this time!" You try to hide your annoyance at the whole situation already, but Natalie just laughs as she starts to drive through the streets of your beloved town.

"Don't stress it, those girls are too well-mannered to cause a fuss."

"I hope so." You sigh, glancing over your shoulder at the both of them.

--

The airport in Italy is a breeze, it's the Miami airport that gives you trouble with the girls because one file isn't filled out correctly. One fucking file. You end up leaving poor Geri Halliwell in the pick-up lane for like an hour while you scramble to fix it so you're not shipped off back home with the girls, who are tired and miserable and just wanna go to bed.

And you'd run out of snacks on the plane, which was another level of catastrophe as Rosella complains every two seconds she's starving and going to die while Sienna complains her feet hurt and makes you carry her around.

Luckily, the airport staff seems to take a bit of pity on you and push you through as quick as possible. You stumble out to the pick-up line to find your ride, the warm Miami air making the girls want to play a bit. Setting down Sienna you make both girls keep one hand on your suitcase as you meet Geri halfway to the car and she kneels down to give the twins hugs as they scream her name.

"So much for discreet." You huff, watching Geri happily interact with the girls. And you learn right then that she's always planning ahead (maybe it's the whole having four kids thing) as she pulls out two little baggies of packed snacks for the girls from her coat.

Once the girls spot Christian, it's game over as they sprint with their little suitcases bouncing behind them and he barely has time to kneel before they're trying to hug him.

"Lookin' good Mama," Geri grins as she picks up Sienna's discarded backpack and you laugh off the compliment as she stands, placing her hands on her hips, "I'll take it they missed us?"

"They wouldn't shut up about getting to see you guys all week after Danny left," You let her pull you into a hug as she kissed your hairline. She helps you get the girl's stuff in the car while Christian entertains the two who sit in the back seat and you end up between your daughters on the drive to the hotel.

"We rented you a room on another floor just for tonight, we figured you'd wanna surprise Danny at the race." Geri turns to talk to you as Christian drives and you nod, leaning forward so she can sit straight. Sienna's babbling to Christian about class, Rosella trying to butt in to get his attention too, and you lean your head on Geri's seat.

"Thank you guys, I'm serious when I say I'll pay you back."

"It came out of Oracle Red Bull Racing's pocket, not mine." Geri holds her hands up and you let out a soft laugh, finally feeling the weariness of the nearly twelve-hour flight.

When you make it to the hotel, Christian goes first to ensure the coast is clear, and you find they've already checked into the room so you're able to go straight up. Once inside, you thank the Horners one more time with tight hugs and a promise to bring them around to Italy soon before shutting the door.

"Momma!" Rosella whines as soon as the door is locked and dead-bolted shut, "I'm tired!"

"Me too!" Sienna copies her twin and flops on the floor and you laugh.

"Let's get you two ready for bed, yeah?" You muse, grabbing the suitcases and flipping them open, and letting the girls pick out the pajamas while you do the same with some loungewear. It's only around five at night, and you do still need to feed the girls a proper dinner, so you assume a short nap with a break for chicken nuggets before bed will be perfect.

--

You rouse from sleep to two sets of little hands hitting you, the girls giggling as they whisper, "Momma, momma!"

"Mhmn," You groan, rubbing your face, "Yeah?"

"Daddy called you, Rosella answered it like a big girl!"

"Mhm!" Rosella cheers, leaning to not-so-secretly whisper, "I didn't even tell him the big secret!"

"That's great--" You go to say sleepily and then you blink your eyes open when you hear Danny laughing over the phone and you sit up to your elbows and snag the phone from her.

"Both of you, shoo." You wave a hand and the girls shriek as you curl your fingers like you're going to tickle them and then sit up in bed.

"I swear I set an alarm." You laugh, rubbing your eyes as you check the clock--in Italy, it would be noon right now which would be typical for your afternoon nap with the girls.

"No big deal. I just wanted to call you when I was getting up for race day." Daniel yawns and you can imagine him rubbing at his face as he lets out a muffled groan over the phone, "How are you and the girls?"

"They're having a blast but being little tornadoes," You huff, "but I'm managing."

"Ah, that's my girl. Superstar mom." You can physically hear Danny's smile in his voice and it makes you laugh, when you ask him how he's doing he regales practice and qualifiers as you get yourself out of bed and grab the girls a change of clothes. Mouthing for them to get in the shower as you mute the phone so Danny doesn't hear the water as you turn it on. Walking back to supervise from the doorway you pop in a few questions here and there.

By the time the call is wrapping up, Sienna's gotten soap in her eyes, so you bid Daniel a quick goodbye as you scold Rosella for splashing her sister in the face and end the call. You double-check to make sure it's actually ended before you move into the bathroom.

It takes an hour for you to get ready, which means by the time you're bringing the girls down to meet with Geri, her kids, and Kelly and Penelope, all the drivers are making their way to the track.

But, of course, you have to run into Charles in the elevator.

"Didn't know you were gonna make it this weekend," Charles says as you step in, the girls shy away from him a little, especially Sienna who practically buries herself behind her sister. You laugh softly.

"Guys, it's just Charles." You say over your shoulder and they both peek up again before gasping and jumping over to hug him. He kneels down to the girls, accepting both of their tight hugs as you speak,

"We weren't until Max told me he got us paddock passes,"

"They're still that close, huh?" Charles stands once the girls release him and you shrug,

"I think Max feels bad for how it ended with them in Red Bull, kinda like how Lando and Daniel are still super close after McLaren because of--God, don't get me started actually." You pinch your nose, the wound of McLaren's drop of Daniel had been the most difficult part of your partnership with Daniel thus far. You hoped it stayed that way.

"I'm glad they're still close." Charles smiles and then bids you goodbye as a Ferrari employee starts scolding him in French--or Italian, or maybe both, as she drags him off in the opposite direction.

You cart the twins off to the little restaurant within the hotel, thanking the hostess who brings you to Geri and Kelly's table and you greet them with a happy smile. Once the kids are all introduced and settled, you relax and roll out your neck.

"I am exhausted." You announce and Kelly pushes a mimosa towards you, grinning, and you happily take it. Breakfast goes relatively well, Penelope wants to sit in your lap halfway through because she missed you, and Bluebell updates you on her applications for university.

The Halliwell-Horner kids are a mess of different parents, but all act just as loving as your own twins, it makes you smile as you notice Bluebell pause mid-sentence to make sure her sister ordered her food correctly and her brother has enough to drink when the waitress comes around to check on you all.

And then Sienna gasps and points at the TV, squealing at an ear-piercing decibel, "Dad!"

"Shh!" You hush her, both Kelly and Geri laughing as you try and handle the two kids who are excitedly pointing out their father on the TV. It's interviews from yesterday on replay in preparation for the race later. And the twins won't stop even with you, Geri, Kelly, and the other kids at the table (save for Geri's youngest) trying to hush them.

"Girls. Knock it off or we're going outside!" You hiss through your teeth, pointing at the two next to you, and Rosella literally screams 'no' at you.

"Good grief." You sigh, then grab her by the waist and wave for her sister to follow you. While Sienna's a little hesitant, a gentle tap from Geri makes the girl scoot off her chair and follow you and a screeching Rosella out of the small restaurant. The three of you settle on the floor as you try to calm a clearly upset Rosella, who curls into your side.

"C'mere, Si." You hold an arm out as you sit on the floor and Sienna curls into your other side. You wipe the frustrated tears off Rosella's face, she had always been attached to Daniel by the hip, you weren't sure why you assumed this would be easier for her than her sister.

"I know you guys are excited to see your dad, I know, I am too." You say to the two twins who sit in your lap on the floor in probably the nicest hotel in Miami, "I miss him just as much as you guys do but... we have to be quiet in restaurants. We can't start screaming like we're at home, okay?"

"Momma, 'm sorry Momma." Rosella sniffles and you pepper soft kisses to her hairline and wipe the tears from her face as Sienna gives her twin a hug.

"It's okay, darling, you know you have me and I have you, yeah? You just have big emotions you wanna get out, but we have to remember inside voices and that there's always a time and place for everything, okay?" You rub her back as she hiccups, big tears rolling down her face as she starts calming down with big gasps.

The girl nods, scrubbing at her face and you give her a little kiss on the top of her forehead before giving Sienna a kiss there too.

"Are we calm enough to talk now, Ella?" You say softly and the girl nods, you scoop her up and bring Sienna back in so she can sit at the table and eat, informing Geri and Kelly you'll be right back after you take Rosella on a little calm down walk.

And you end up in a little courtyard, bouncing Ella on your hip as she speaks softly as you pause at a fountain.

"And Daddy's always there when I'm sad." She recounts as she hiccups, still crying a little as you rock her and rub her back, "and I got sad he wasn't there, and then he wasn't there to make me happy, and it made me more sad."

"Oh honey, it's okay." You look over your shoulder, swearing for the third time you're seeing Lando out of the corner of your eye--which is impossible because he's at the track and you're just being paranoid.

"Big emotions come out sometimes, it's happened to me. When your dad and I got married, I freaked out on him the night before because I was so stressed something would go wrong. I screamed at him, like a full freakout," You sigh, pressing your lips to your daughter's hair before whispering, "You know what he did?"

"What did he do?" Rosella sits back so she can look you in the eyes, you bounce her up and readjust your grip.

"He held me like I'm holding you now and he said 'I know you've got big emotions and so do I, but you know what we also both have?'" You remember the way he'd pressed his lips to your hairline, hands tucking you into his body as he cradled you in the bathroom of the wedding suite in the hotel,

"And I said 'no' because I was having big emotions, and he said 'You have me and I have you.' Just like right now, Ella, you have me and I have you."

"Oh! That's why you and Daddy say that." Ella smiles, kicking one of her feet a little and you nod. She wipes the last of the tears from her eyes and you kiss her cheek, before walking back to the restaurant when she claims she's finally calm enough to eat and be a little quieter.

--

About ten thousand things are happening in the Alpha Tauri garage when you sneak in with Yuki's help. You see Daniel off to the side, talking with some engineers with a stressed expression, and instead of walking over to wrap your arms around him like you want to-- you cart the twins off to his driver's room and settle them in there.

"Should I get him?" Yuki asks once he's finally gotten Sienna to pry off his leg and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Surprise, remember?" You speak softly, hushing the giglging twins.

"Yeah, but he's..." Yuki makes a face and you roll the idea around in your head. The girls had never seen Daniel frustrated, any sort of negative emotions you and Daniel tried to keep away from them.

"How bad?" You ask, mouthing one to ten, and Yuki mouths back a solid nine. So you groan, dragging your hands down your face and holding up a hand for him to wait while you kneel down and wave the girls over.

"Listen, Ella, Si." You poke their arms playfully as they quiet down their giggles when you slowly lower your hands to the floor, "Quiet time, okay? Momma's gonna go out and see where Daddy is, and I might bring him back here, okay?"

The girls nod and you kiss both of their foreheads before leaving the driver's room with Yuki and speaking softly, "I'll come with you."

He nods and waves you along, making his way through the back hall and back into the main area of the garage where Daniel was standing with his back to you. Mouthing good luck, Yuki slips off to stand beside Daniel as they talk racing stats. You just stand for a while, watching your husband as he clearly fusses over some fudging of numbers and how the team seems to be running whatever tactic on a sort of hail-mary moment. You know he hates leaving it up to fate.

"Okay, well," Daniel groans, clearly wanting to change strategy but knowing he's unable to do so, "I don't even know."

Yuki suggests something, but it gets shot down, and then you slowly start to inch forward. You see the videographers and photographers readying themselves for the moments, cameras lifting up high as they wait for the moment or whatever line will come out of your mouth.

"This is literally just as frustrating as getting the twins to relax on a plane," Daniel complains, Yuki smirking and biting the inside of his cheek as you finally cross the room to stand behind your husband.

"I dunno, I did pretty well--"

"--Holy shit!" Daniel shouts, barreling himself into you as he sweeps you off your feet in a loud laugh, "Oh my god! Hello! What?! When did you get here?!"

He sets you down after a tiny spin and presses a long kiss to your lips before you can explain, his hands firm on your hips and your arms tossed around his neck, just like puzzle pieces.

"Max got me passes, we got in last night. Blame the entirety of Red Bull." You wave a hand and Daniel kisses you once more, arms now wrapping around you.

"Okay, fuck strategy for a moment, I need this." He says to the Alpha Tauri team who wave him off and laugh, and you let Daniel just bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the way too expensive Dior perfume he'd bought you for your birthday, and sigh out his stress.

"You have me and I have you." You murmur to him, pressing your lips to the side of his head, since it's all you can reach at this angle, a very similar angle to which his mini-me had been held in only a few hours prior.

"I know." He steps back, then blinks at you, "Wait. The twins are here too aren't they?"

"How the fuck--"

"You aren't wearing your necklace you always wear when you have someone babysit them for the weekend." He pokes the necklace you are wearing, one of your last names written in one of the prettiest fonts you'd ever seen, the gold blackened and dirty from its constant wear. A wedding gift from his mother.

"You little shit." You whisper, before turning and shouting, "Ella! Si!"

And it's like they were waiting for it because the sound of the door slamming against the wall followed by the patter of small sneakers sounds through the garage as the twins sprint to find you and their father. Their joyful screams overlap as Daniel drops to one knee to scoop both girls in his arms, fawning over their matching sundresses (custom-made to be the same color as his racing suit, as is the dress you wear) as he lifts them up to your height.

"Look at my girls." Daniel smiles, letting the twins babble on about whatever as he turns to press a kiss to your cheek, "Thank you."

"Thank Max." You step up to take Sienna from his arms so he can easily hold Rosella, but the arm you've freed snags you by the hip and pulls you close.

"There we go!" He grins at you, "All three of my girls in one place, yeah?"

And it's perfect, a little slotted puzzle piece, and regardless of if they figure out whatever issues are going on with the car you know Daniel will be loving every minute of Miami this year. Just because the three of you are there as his backbone.

[hannieween]

reverie | city lights series | h.js

Joshua Hong was many things aside from your hot neighbour—he was a menace, a relentless tease. But most importantly, he was the first guy to ever make you feel wanted. And you were yet to know how dangerous that was.

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: smut (18+) ✮ word count: 16.2k ✮ aus: rock singer joshua, neighbors with benefits

› part i — link to my other fics

›🎧: best lover - bibi | thirsty - taemin | crazy like you - chungha, bibi | poison - nct dream ♡︎

› smut tags under the cut

✮ warnings: alcohol use, dubcon: reader is drunk and joshua helps her change to pjs, smut with plot, big dick Joshua, dom Joshua, dirty talk, foul language, praise kink, somewhat inexperienced reader, multiple sex scenes, fingering (f. receiver), oral sex (f, m) guided blowjob, cum swallowing, protected sex, squirting, brat taming: bondage, orgasm control (f), use of toys and overstimulation (f), dumbification, multiple orgasms (f, m), pet names: baby, pretty girl, princess, sweetheart, bunny (hers)

part ii

"Zero survival instincts," Yen scoffed, "None. Out the window."

"Yen, I'm fine," you insisted. "Nothing bad happened."

She sent you an irritated look. "What if he was a serial killer?"

You rolled your eyes. "He's not, Yen. He's just my neighbor."

"Are you serious right now?" she asked. "The least you could've done was sending me a text: 'hey yen, i'm inviting my neighbour over to fuck me into the next day, don't worry, he's not going to turn me into jerky'."

You laughed at the crude language, your best friend simulating typing on an imaginary phone.

"Shhh, keep it down, Yen," you muttered when you saw people from the tables around you glance at you.

Sitting at a cozy table for two in a charming bar, the atmosphere around him was quiet, with the soft glow of candlelight. The surrounding tables were occupied by couples, either engaged in a romantic conversation or trying to start one.

In the quiet atmosphere, your table stood out as the noisy one, occupied by two women who were indulging in the warmth of alcohol and pastries.

And, truth be told, were quite drunk on red wine.

"If he killed you at least I'd have something to tell the police," she continued with another roll of her eyes.

"But he didn't kill me. We just had sex, that's it."

She looked around your table, and suddenly you could sense that she was really invested. "How was it, then?"

You felt a sudden twinge in the apex of your thighs from just the memory of your last.

"It was so good," you sighed, and leaned on the table. "It was really really good, Yen. The best I had in my life, I think. Yeah, definitely."

"Wow, damn," she muttered, a sly grin appearing on her round face. "Not gonna lie. I'm jealous."

You chuckled. "I'm actually kind of surprised that he accepted, though," your brow furrowed, feeling your cheeks grow hotter in the mixture of being drunk and flustered at the memory. "He is so hot, Yen. Like really, really hot."

"Okay, okay. I believe you," she scoffed. "You know, when I told you to commit to writing sex scenes, I didn't mean to go methodical," she gave you a look and then smiled slyly again.

"What, I felt like I needed to experience the real thing before writing pages about it," you shrugged.

"That's a lame excuse," she said as she swirled her wine glass in the air.

"I think it's working," you leaned your cheek against your palm, your elbow propped up on the table.

"Oh, oh. Can I read the product of your little adventure?" her eyes widened.

"God, no," you recoiled at the thought. "This is just for... inspiration. There's still a lot of things I want to try before finishing the manuscript."

"What—wait a minute," she held up her hand. "Are you going to keep seeing him?"

You blinked. "Yeah, I didn't tell you?" your brow furrowed.

"Do you mean to tell me that you'll be fucking your neighbour until you finish the manuscript?!"

"Yen, it's fine," you shushed. "It's just sex. There's nothing to worry about."

Nothing to worry about. Except there was hardly anything that could take your mind off the memory.

As you walked to the interior of your building after being dropped off by Yen, all you could keep thinking was to knock on his door. Just go, knock and he'd know. That was your deal.

You have been wanting to do that all week. But you were reluctant about it because you didn't want to come across as needy.

It was now Wednesday, three nights after that night with Joshua. You had slept together, and in the following morning he left.

You stumbled out of the elevator and into the hallway, feeling so tipsy that you almost took a full minute to be certain of which of the doors led to your apartment.

The device on your door was a smart-lock that simply functioned as a key. You didn't bring your keys, so you entered your six number combination.

The beeping noise from the smart-lock of your door indicated that you had only two more attempts left before being locked out of your apartment for the next hour.

You hummed, attempting to keep steady, but couldn't ignore the gentle sway of your body from side to side. Biting your lower lip, you struggled to concentrate, but the effects of the wine bottle were swiftly taking hold.

With a click of your tongue, you stepped back to double check you were standing in front of your door. You were.

"C'mon. You can do this," you hissed to yourself as you tried to enter the combination of your smart lock.

Beep beep. Wrong again.

One attempt left.

"What," you whispered to your lock again.

You tried to rest your head on your door for more stability, but when your forehead landed a loud thud resounded on the hallway.

"Ow," you winced.

Maybe you should ask for help.

No. You can do this. Is a simple stupid lock.

The sound coming from the door next to yours startled you. But you made no attempt to move your forehead from your door, expecting to see either Joshua or his roommate, the latter you haven't met yet.

But the sweet voice calling your name from the next door made you want to sink into the ground and never be seen again.

Joshua doesn't need to see you like this, you said to yourself.

"Are you okay?" Joshua asked, and you jolted to find him next to you, his eyes examining your drowsy ones.

"Um, I can't enter my combination," you mumbled as one of your hands pushed the hair from your face.

"You're drunk," he realized then, his fingers taking your chin for his eyes to survey you, a small smile appearing on his lips. "What did you have?"

Your cheeks were already flushed from the wine, but you could swear a different kind of warmth started burning beneath your skin the exact moment he touched you.

Before you could answer to his question, you take a brief look at him. Joshua wore an oversized gray plaid shirt, a black t-shirt underneath, and light gray sweatpants. A cap adorned his head, hiding his dark hair. You came to the conclusion that, whatever he was wearing, he would no doubt look hot.

Your mouth went dry. "Jus' a bottle of wine," you muttered, trying to brush off his hand but not succeeding.

"D'you have your keys?" he said as you drunkenly tried to enter your combination to no avail. His large hand swatted yours before you could enter any numbers on the pad.

"Keys," you repeated. "Don't think so."

"Let me help you before you lock yourself out," he hushed with his cute smile. "Tell me your combination."

The combination to your smart lock escaped your lips, trusting him with it completely without a second thought. He entered the combination and the lock beeped again, the small light blinking green.

"There you go," he muttered.

"Thank you," you whispered, pushing your door open and turning around to see his face one last time before going to bed.

You opened your mouth, feeling a strange tickling under your skin as you faced him.

"I uh..."

When no other words came out, Joshua smiled softly with a sigh and entered your apartment with you.

"Come on, princess. I'll take you to bed," he muttered and closed the door behind him, taking your hand gently and pulling you to the interior of your apartment.

"Mmkay," you cooed, letting him drag you to your bedroom.

In the darkness of your apartment, you saw him dressed in a way that was atypical of his usual style, almost as if he had thrown on whatever he found first–

"You look cute with a cap," you blurted before you could even stop yourself.

"You think so, princess?" he replied and took his cap off to put it on your head. "You look cute too."

A giggle bubbled up in your chest. "Caps make m'ears look bigger," you slurred.

As you entered your bedroom, you removed the cap from your head and, at the same time, stumbled upon a pile of forgotten clothes scattered on the floor. You vaguely remembered throwing them aside while you were looking for something to wear for tonight.

"Careful," he mumbled, catching you before you hit the ground. "You're tripping with those big ears of yours, bunny."

You burst into high-pitched laughter, which resembled a kid's. As if you had just heard the funniest joke. Joshua smiled as he heard you, an endearing expression on his face.

It made you feel fuzzy inside.

"Why did you drink tonight? What was the occasion, I mean," he asked as he helped you sit on your bed.

He crouched before you and started removing your shoes. Every action was carefully done, nothing was rushed, everything was carried out with delicacy.

"I went out with my best friend to this really fancy bar," you told him with an air of contentment.

"What's your friend's name?" he asked almost a second later.

Then, in the back of your mind where you still had some lucidity, you gathered that he was trying to keep you fully awake as he helped you climb your high bed.

"Yen, Yena," you mumbled.

With a sudden movement, your body fell back against the soft mattress and you gasped. Your head spun rapidly and the rush that ran through your body caused you to giggle.

"Careful there," he cautioned, just as he was taking your socks off. You could also hear him laughing a bit.

"Are you laughing at me?" you whined, your hands instinctively covering your warm cheeks as giggles continued to escape.

"I would never, princess. You're cute when you're drunk," he replied simply.

"Mmm, you don't think I'm ridiculous?" your voice was muffled by the hands burying your face.

"Why would I think that?" you heard him ask.

"Dunno," you mumbled sheepishly. "'m really drunk, J'shua," you slurred.

"I know, bunny," he chuckled. "Where are your pjs?"

You slowly uncovered your face to see him standing before your bed.

"Second drawer," you replied pointing to the drawers next to your bed, feeling your cheeks blaze.

There was no real reason to feel this shy, considering that Joshua had already seen every inch of your naked body. But the idea of him taking care of you took on new meaning in your mind. It made you feel closer to him.

"Oooh, what do we have here?" he said with a cheeky grin.

Then he pulled a pink lace thong, holding it up in the air with his fingers.

"Joshua!" you gasped. "That's not the second drawer!"

He giggled playfully. "Oops, my bad," he said, but continued rummaging on your stuff, pulling out a see-through mesh red bra. "This is really nice, bunny. Will you wear it next time for me?"

You groaned helplessly, but before you could come up with a quippy response, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Princess, you didn't tell me you had toys," he said with a surprised tone, dropping the playful act.

"Stop," you whined with a laugh and turned to crawl across your large bed toward him.

Before you could even make it to the other side of your bed, you stumbled and your face collided with the mattress, making you erupt into uncontrollable laughter.

You heard his genuine laugh resonate through the room, causing a flutter in your stomach, followed by the muffled noise of the drawer shutting close.

"Alright, alright. Time for bed," he announced, and a hand gently flipped you on the mattress. He sat on the edge of the bed next to your body. "I'm going to take your top off, okay?"

You nodded a little too eagerly, and that made him smile with a shake of his head.

"Now don't get any ideas, sweetheart," he said.

Then his hands grabbed the hem of the cute top you wore to your date with your best friend.

As the top came off and you were left under his gaze, you felt as if your whole skin was on fire, every inch tingling with an overwhelming sensation.

But he remained silent. You tried to make out the expression on Joshua's face, while he was deeply focused on his task, giving no signals that he wanted to do more with your body.

"Bra on or off?" he asked softly.

"Off," you whispered, feeling a sudden impatience take over your mind and body despite the effects from the wine still strumming on your ears.

"Kay," he replied in the same tone. "Arch your–"

You instantly arched your back for him before he could even finish the sentence. His eyes examined your face again with a hint of curiosity. 

"I'm starting to think you're enjoying this, princess," he said with a cheeky smile.

When a hand slid behind your back, it was then that you realized he was keeping his touch on your skin at a minimum. Joshua unclasped the pretty bra you wore, his fingers removing the straps from your shoulders without touching your skin.

Something sparked in you when his gaze wandered over your naked skin. Darkened eyes marveled at your tits as your nipples hardened from the bite of cool air and the skin around them bumped helplessly.

A small silent whine bubbled in your chest, your whole body tingling, needing to be sated by his touch. You gulped hard. He noticed.

"Do you want me to continue?" he asked with a gentle tone, so low you barely heard it above the buzzing in your eardrums.

"Yes," you whispered eagerly, looking at his eyes. "I trust you, Joshua."

At that, Joshua stopped and contemplated you. The momentary silence made you wonder if you had said something wrong, and you waited for his response.

But he just booped the tip of your nose.

"Sit up," he commanded with his sweet voice.

He extended his hands out to you to help you reincorporate in your bed so that he could put the top of your pyjamas on your body.

When you lay back on the soft covers of your bed, a sigh came out of you, revealing all the emotions that were bubbling up in your chest.

But Joshua interpreted it differently.

"Don't fall asleep yet. I need you awake for this," he urged with his sweet voice.

For a moment you thought that maybe you looked way too drunk. Perhaps, you felt better than you looked: the sluggishness of your limbs with every movement you made, the heavy eyelids, the clumsy tingling in your cheeks and mouth every time you spoke: all symptoms caused by the wine.

"I'm not sleeping," you said as you blinked slowly.

"Good girl," he muttered.

But the rest of your body was ablaze, desperate for his touch. You inhaled deeply, trying to fill your chest with something other than the desperate need for him.

The room was spinning. Was it spinning a minute ago? Who knows.

"I feel dizzy," you mumbled in a whiny tone.

"Hang on, princess. I'm almost done, okay?" he instructed. Still, you could hear that warmth in his voice. 

With careful fingers, he undid the zipper and button of your pants. You lifted your hips from the bed for him to slide them down your legs effortlessly.

Joshua was piling your clothes carefully on the foot of the bed, you noticed. He folded your pants in half and when he turned to you, he surveyed the lower half of your body, partially naked before him.

His darkened eyes found yours, an unspoken question written in them.

"Off," you whispered before he could ask.

A heavy sigh left him.

"Eyes on me, baby," he instructed again.

Then he removed your white lace thong, with so much care that his fingers didn't even graze your skin. He didn't skip a beat when he was already grabbing the matching bottoms of your bunny pyjamas, sliding them up your legs.

You smiled contently and made a move to sit up on the bed. "Need to wash," you muttered suddenly.

He smiled at the clumsiness to which you lowered yourself to the floor. "C'mon," he extended his hands to you and when you stood, you stumbled backwards a bit.

With his strong hands he helped you get to the bathroom without staggering and stood outside the door in case you needed help with anything, but still giving you the privacy to tend to your needs.

Afterwards, Joshua helped you to get under the sheets and covers of the bed, tucking you in, and then he bent down and placed a sweet kiss on your forehead.

"Such a gentleman," you cooed with a weak smile.

"Here to help," he replied with a pressed smile. "Sleep now, princess. I'll see you tomorrow, m'kay?"

You reached for his hand before he could distance himself any further, stopping him in his tracks.

"Don't go," you mumbled.

He sat back down slowly and placed his hand on your tummy, the mere weight of his hand and the warmth seeping through the fabric of your pyjamas made you repress a whine.

"Sleep with me?" you slurred, clenching the hand that was still clasped by yours.

"You're drunk, sweetheart. I'll come by tomorrow," he said and patted your tummy softly.

"Please? I promise I won't try anything," you mumbled.

You felt your eyes involuntarily welling up a little. You knew it was partly due to the effects of alcohol, yet you also suspected it was because of the emotions you'd been accumulating over the past couple of days.

Looking conflicted, a small guttural groan escaped him.

"Fine," he groaned in defeat.

A smile of victory crept up your face as you did what he asked. He stood from your bed to remove his shoes and the grey shirt he was wearing. You watched him carefully place his stuff on the armchair in the corner of your bedroom.

He lay down beside you under the sheets, approaching you cautiously.

"How do you feel?" he mumbled.

"Better," you sighed softly.

"Still dizzy?" he asked, his eyes hopeful.

"Mm nope," you mumbled, 

Eyeing him shyly, you scooted toward his body and nuzzled softly on the side of his shoulder, feeling his warmth.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Joshua," you said as the scent of his cologne invaded your already overwhelmed senses.

An arm slid beneath your body, pulling you closer to his chest.

"Don't mention it," he replied.

"I didn't ruin any plans, right?" your head snapped back to look at him.

His fingers trailed on the side of your arm, causing goosebumps on your skin at their wake.

"Not really, no," he hummed. "I was thinking about you, actually."

"You were?" you asked in an embarrassingly high pitch tone.

"I wanted to see you, princess," he cooed, moving his head on the pillows to look you in the eye.

A flutter in your stomach took your focus away. Joshua wanted to see you. The way he made it sound was almost as if he missed you.

"Was thinking of knocking on your door."

Oh.

That had an entirely different meaning. Knocking on your door would mean that he wanted to have sex with you.

"You..." you mumbled awkwardly. "D'you still want to?"

Something shifted in your brain. He might have just missed your body, but it was still enough to rouse something within you. The alcohol offered little help, but instead intensified your body's every reaction.

The tingling in your face, the rush of warmth that washed through you, pooling between your legs.

"Definitely not, princess," he laughed softly, putting your ideas to rest. "I won't touch you like this," he finalized sternly.

You let out a whine that sounded more like a childish cry, burying your face in his chest and sighing in frustration.

"It's bad manners to have sex with people who are not sober, baby," he explained, his tone was not condescending, but almost sweet or caring.

"But what if I want to, Joshua," you mumbled, your flushed face still buried in the warmth of his hard chest.

"I'm not going to fuck you no matter how much you beg," he said with a small chuckle.

"But I wan' you to," you whined against his chest.

You were so close to his chest that you felt the strumming of his heart, heard the small sigh leave his body. Your fist scrunched up on his t-shirt.

"You told me you wouldn't try anything, princess," he reminded you sternly.

Joshua took the hand that has balled into a fist, grabbing on his shirt and laced his fingers with yours in an attempt to soothe you.

"Mm, it's jus'—I need you," you mumbled, sneaking a glance in his eyes.

"I'm here, bunny," he muttered softly.

"But I've been wanting to see you all week," you said with a sigh.

Your face grew hotter on your drunken confessions, but you forced yourself to make eye contact with him despite the daze from the wine.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked while the hand that grabbed yours played with your fingers.

"I didn't want you to think I'm needy," you mumbled sheepishly, still trying to hold eye contact, but your eyes were shifty. 

"What?" he asked with a feigned tone of surprise. "I thought we had already established the other night that you're needy. Like, really needy," he laughed.

You scoffed and hid your flushed face on his hard chest again, but he pulled back, his fingers on your chin forcing you to face him.

"I'm only joking, princess," he smiled reassuringly. "Whenever you want to you can let me know."

You opened your mouth but before you could protest, he added:

"As long as you're sober."

You let out a bashful sniffle and pouted.

"Tell you what: if you go to sleep now, I'll give you whatever you want tomorrow. How about that?" he asked, looking down to find your eyes, he let go of your hand and stroked the side of your face softly.

Your eyelids fluttered under his touch. "Whatever I want?" you asked, looking at his rosy lips and then his eyes.

"That's right, baby. Whatever you want," he conceded.

"Mmkay," you mumbled.

You relaxed in his embrace, letting go of your demands at that very moment.

"Good girl," he muttered, pressing his lips on your forehead for a long second before resting his head on the pillow next to yours.

Your cheeks flushed and a fluttering sensation invaded your chest.

"G'night, Joshua," you mumbled a second before you closed your eyes and fell asleep.

The following morning, you woke up to a headache drilling in the back of your head.

You groaned in pain, ears ringing as you opened your eyes to only wince in pain at the faint morning light filtering through the parted door of your otherwise blackout dark bedroom.

Still drowsy you looked to the other side of your bed to find Joshua asleep.

Your breath hitched at the sudden invasion of memories—you had partially forgotten that Joshua had spent the night in your bed with you again.

He was lying on his side, an arm extended to your direction. You had the faint memory of him hugging you close to his frame, so perhaps you fell out of his embrace during the night. 

Joshua's features looked relaxed, peaceful even. His flush lips pursed softly as he swallowed and nuzzled the pillow. The way he looked so cute and innocent made you smile a little. 

With every movement you took, your body protested in pain. But you hurried yourself to the bathroom, taking the time to properly wash and refresh yourself to recover from your hangover.

Under the warm stream of the shower, you mentally retraced the events of the night. The drunken confessions that spilled from your mouth. Joshua's careful hands changing your clothes and helping you to bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as soon as he saw you come back to your bedroom, your body wrapped in a bath towel.

He was still lying on his side, but something told you that he woke up the second he heard you leave the bedroom.

"I just have a light headache but I'll be fine," you assured him.

His hand, which was still extended in the same way as when you left, patted the space you occupied during the night.

"Come here," he muttered.

With a sigh that denoted your nervousness, you walked toward your bed and climbed next to him over the covers. You lay on your side, facing him, propping your head on your hand, your elbow on the pillow next to his.

"D'you remember what happened last night? Why I'm here?" he asked, his voice still groggy, but it sounded soft.

"It's not like I was black out drunk," you smiled. "I remember everything, Joshua."

"Jus' wanted to make sure," he whispered.

With a small nod of his head, his eyelids closed slowly and he seemed to dozed off again. His chest rising and falling heavily, his face relaxing to his lips parting a little.

You took a moment to appreciate his beauty before jumping down from your bed, darting your eyes toward the man lying on your bed—to find him asleep.

Then you unwrapped the towel that covered your body. Careful not to make a sound, you busied yourself moisturizing your skin while you cast a few glances at him, making sure he was asleep.

But a few seconds later, you noticed him stir in your bedsheets, his eyelids fluttering slowly as he found you standing before your bed, wholly naked.

Your breath hitched, but curiosity sparked within you when his eyes surveyed your whole body from top to bottom.

Attempting to ignore that he kept his gaze trained on your frame, you busied yourself on looking for something to wear.

"Don't get dressed," he muttered softly when he saw you rummage through your drawers.

You darted a look at him. His sleepy eyes on you, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Or do, I don't care. Just come back here," he sighed sluggishly, patting the side of the bed again.

You smiled shyly and climbed back to the spot you had taken a few minutes ago. You slid beneath the bed sheets, next to his warm body.

"You talk in your sleep," he hummed.

Then his hands grabbed you by the hips, with a sharp pull his chest was now pressing on yours, his arms encircling your naked body tightly to snuggle you as if he wanted to sleep again.

It was a sweet embrace, almost too intimate. A part of you couldn't deny you liked it—being this close to Joshua. You grabbed him by the shoulders, uneasy of being fully naked in his tight embrace.

"I–uh I didn't know," you whispered, your heart strumming so hard that you could almost sense that Joshua could feel it against his chest.

Truth be told, Joshua was the first man you had ever slept with. He wasn't your first sexual partner, that much was already disclosed with him—you've had a couple of other partners in the past, but none of them were memorable to even matter.

Joshua was the first to make you feel real pleasure, the first to make you orgasm, to make you feel wanted.

And you were yet to know how dangerous that is.

"What did I say?" you asked reluctantly.

He took a breath, as if remembering and then he let out a breathy laugh. "Bunch of nothings, but you went for hours."

"Oh god," you groaned. "I'm so sorry, Joshua."

"You didn't talk that much the other night," he paused. "But maybe you were too tired the other night to even speak, right princess?"

Your stomach jolted a bit.

"Mmm-mmph. So tired," you agreed despite the growing flush in your face. "Last night's ramble wouldn't have happened if I was tired too."

"Oh, bunny. You think you're so slick. But you're so bratty," he cooed mockingly as his hands explored your bare back, his fingers sinking in the skin of your hips.

"What are you going to do about it?" you asked through a breathy mumble when his hands caused your heart to race.

"Nothing," he stated softly.

A long silence happened between you and Joshua. You almost thought that he might have dozed off yet again, but when you pulled from his embrace, he was grinning menacingly.

"But you promised–"

"I never promised anything," his brow furrowed. "When have you ever heard me say the words 'I promise'? Never."

A frustrated groan came out from you before you could stop it.

"You told me you would do anything I asked today!" you whined, feeling ashamed by his game.

"See, I never promised," he cooed again.

"But you said–"

"And I will do it, sweetheart," he cut in. "But I never specified at what time of the day I'll do it."

"Joshua!" you whined again, feeling the need to cover your flushed face.

He laughed merrily, he was enjoying this.

"I didn't bring condoms," he muttered, dropping the playful smile.

Your eyes narrowed. "You're lying."

"It's true," he put in simply. "Someone went through all of them the other night and I haven't bought more," he emphasized with a cheeky grin, he even shrugged slightly looking as if he enjoyed torturing you.

Which, he probably did.

You were a split second away to throw all away and beg him to fuck you raw. But the last thread of sanity you still preserved in your mind stopped you.

"I forgot to ask," he said suddenly. "Have you made your list?"

You stilled and looked away embarrassed. "Um, I've thought of some things."

"Like what? Maybe we could do something tonight," he replied.

In reality you haven't gotten around making a list of things you want to try in bed with him. Your mind only ends up wandering in sex fantasies of what you'd do and never actually write something down.

"I have some ideas, but I don't know yet," you mumbled sheepishly, darting a shifty glance up his eyes.

The pierced eyebrow arched up. "I'm listening."

A smile appeared on your lips. "You're taking this really seriously," you pointed.

"Of course," he frowned, pretending to be offended. "I want to help my neighbor with her book."

You rolled your eyes with a smile.

"Besides, it's not like I get to do this everyday," he paused. "Well, unless you let me," he muttered, tilting his head forward.

"What?" you asked in a gasp. "Like you don't have people throwing themselves at you at any chance they get."

"Only my pretty neighbors," he chuckled and you playfully slapped his shoulder.

"Seriously, Joshua. You don't get a lot of groupies or whatever?"

He scoffed loudly. "Groupies. What are you, a sixty year old lady in disguise?"

"You know what I mean," you mumbled, starting to feel deeply embarrassed.

"Not really, princess. It's not what you think. I can show you if you want. Tonight," he suggested in a low tone.

The features of his face had hardened, denoting that he was more serious now.

"Tonight?"

"Only if you want to, of course," he shrugged, and you could tell from his tone, the lack of warmth and playfulness that he seemed to be detached.

"I'd love to," you replied and his face relaxed. Was he expecting you to say no?

"Kay," his lips pressed in a smile. "I'll come later to pick you up. And after that we can get into your list, deal?"

"Deal," you smiled shyly, not wanting to express the full excitedness you felt.

You noticed that every time he smiled contently, two dimples appeared crowning his mouth. Joshua sighed and then he cupped your chin with his hand, surveying your face for a moment.

"How's your head, still hurting?" he asked, his other arm still pulling you close to his frame.

"A bit. I'm fine, Joshua. Don't worry," you gave him a small reassuring smile.

"Kay," he whispered and pressed his lips on your forehead just like he did before you fell asleep in his arms.

You felt his lips relax on your forehead but he didn't pull away, his other hand returned to its original place on your waist. You assumed that he was dozing off again, and your suspicions turned correct when his breathing gained more depth.

Then you let yourself be absorbed in his embrace and your hands moved from his shoulders to his hard chest over his t-shirt. You felt the soft thumping of his heart, the slow rhythm of his breathing.

Your eyes darted to his face. He was asleep.

The hem of his shirt hung loose over his collarbones, you felt his soft and warm skin under your fingertips, lost in thought of him. Drinking the sweet scent of his skin and clothes.

Your fingers then wandered from his collarbones to his neck, his Adam's apple bobbed as the pads of your fingers touched it carefully.

But then a larger hand seized yours, pulling your arm above your head as his body pushed your body flat on the bed with a groan. The other hand was seized as well, thus pinning your wrists above your head.

A yelp bubbled in your chest, but when you felt his hard body pressing yours against the bed your curious eyes glanced up to see his face.

But before you could say something, your mouth was clasped with his with a chaste kiss.

"You're handsy," he muttered gruffly on your lips.

The grip on your wrists tightened a bit when Joshua dipped his head on the crook of your neck where he pressed his lips on your skin, to then nibble at your skin with his teeth.

"I wanted to wait 'til tonight but you're so needy. Such an impatient pretty girl," he grunted as his hand grabbed your wrists pressed down on the pillows, making you yelp and squirm.

Being somewhat restrained made you feel restless, but you made no attempt to break free, since you were quickly subdued by the feeling of his breath on the crook of your neck.

"'m sorry," you mumbled just as he started placing wet kisses on your collarbone, making his way to your tits.

"Are you, baby?" he asked, and your eyes fell on his. His pierced eyebrow cocked slightly. "I don't think you're sorry at all."

He let go of your wrists just so he could cup your breasts with his hands and before you could muster a response, he wrapped his mouth on one of your nipples, making you cry out instead.

The feeling of having his hot mouth around your nipple made you shiver, the whole area covered by his tongue and drool felt tingling and ablaze.

Hearing the non-verbal response you made, he moved his mouth to do the same with your other hardened nipple, licking and nibbling at it softly with his teeth. He hummed while doing so, as if he liked the taste of your skin on his mouth.

Your hands quickly grabbed at whatever was nearest, fingers landing on his head as you squirmed and moaned helplessly on your bedsheets. 

He pressed his lips down your sternum and he lowered himself to your belly, his hands parting your legs so he could place his body between them and continue kissing and licking your skin.

"Please-" you whispered as you writhe in pleasure under the touch of his lips.

"Please, what?" he asked as he raised his head to look at you. "What do you want, princess?"

"Do whatever you want, just-" you gulped suddenly. "I need you, Joshua. I've waited all week."

His eyes searched yours, just like he did last night when you were drunk.

"Please," you whispered and that apparently did it for him.

He lowered himself pressing wet kisses on your lower abdomen as his mouth reached between your legs, his eyes darted a look toward yours before his fingers parted your pussy lips carefully, earning a high keen moan from you.

"Fuck. You're dripping," he muttered gruffly as his finger swiped a line on your cunt, making you flinch and moan pathetically. "Practically wetting the bed."

Then his tongue dipped between your parted lips, slowly licking a stripe on your wet folds. You let out a loud moan, grabbing a handful of black hair, making him hum softly when you tugged at it.

Joshua wasn't looking for you to say something, because he quickly continued making out with your clit. You were practically crying out of pleasure when you felt his mouth working on the swollen bud, tugging at it with his lips every time he closed his mouth around it.

You felt your legs shake a bit under the building tension but you didn't budge. A faint voice inside you reminded you to relax, to focus on his mouth kissing your cunt, his tongue swirling around your clit and trailing down to drink you in with a moan.

His hands slid underneath your body and cupped your ass, pushing you up to his face, essentially burying his face between your legs. Joshua's mouth flatly pressed on your cunt as if he were thirsty, ravaging you and humming as he did it.

Then his tongue pressed on your clit, his lips encircling it whole as his cheeks hollowed out, sucking on the throbbing bud. You arched your back, crying out loudly at the feeling of being so close to your release.

"I'm close, so close, Joshua," you whimpered, eliciting a groan from him.

You looked down where his head was nuzzled between your legs and the sight was so fucking good that something in your brain shifted. His dark eyes found yours, and you completely came undone.

The tension in your body snapped, sending waves of pleasure, making your limbs grow numb. You called out his name weakly, your eyes screwing shut at the mercy of the waves seizing your body, making you twitch and gasp in short breaths.

Joshua was moaning just from making you cum. And that could probably send you to the edge again if it wasn't for the new feeling of one of his fingers inside you.

You blinked, feeling dazed and you found Joshua on his knees, his finger plunging in and out of your sopping walls, massaging them gently.

"You liked that, baby?" he asked at the same time he slipped another finger in.

"Yeah," you whimpered. "I've been wanting this for days."

His pierced eyebrow arched up.  "This would have happened sooner if you knocked on my door," he smiled fondly. "But I like that about you—too shy to go knock on my door, but not to ask me to fuck you senseless."

You whined at the same moment his fingers crooked inside you, exploring, looking for your g-spot with the tips of his fingers.

"You like it when I talk to you, right? Your pussy squeezes my fingers whenever I do," he mentioned with a grin.

As if to prove his point, your walls fluttered around his fingers and he chuckled.

"Oh, princess. You're perfect," he muttered gruffly, leaning his body to plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

"God, Joshua," you whimpered, the tension between your legs building up again.

"You wanna cum again, baby?" he asked, grazing your lower lip with his teeth before kissing you chastely.

"Yes. So bad," you groaned, wiggling your hips to get more from his fingers.

"Can you cum on my fingers? Or do you want my mouth too?" he asked, his fingers teasing your cunt, making you feel the drag of his knuckles inside you as he pulled his fingers out and in, making squelching sounds every time he moved his hand inside you.

"Yes, please! I want your mouth too," you whimpered desperately.

His smile was the last thing you saw before he lowered himself between your legs and immediately attached his mouth to your clit. Joshua continued fucking you with his fingers, crooking them to find your g-spot.

"Joshua!" you cried out, your body twitching uncontrollably in your bed. "I'm gonna come, I'm ah-"

Now with his mouth and fingers, the pleasure in your pussy was so much more intense, practically tearing your orgasm out of you as you cried out.

Ragged breaths came out from your mouth, blinking tears weakly as your orgasm sizzled under your skin. Joshua's fingers stopped when he felt your walls relax and slipped out of your sopping core, making you shudder at the emptiness.

Then you were being showered with kisses on your face. You laughed meekly as his lips pressed on yours.

"You're being spoiled, princess," he teased. "Was planning on waiting to make you come until tonight but you're so greedy."

"Mm'm sorry," you muttered weakly.

"Sorry for what?" he asked.

"Dunno," you giggled.

"Are you fucked out already, bunny?" he smiled sweetly at you. "But I haven't even given you my cock yet."

You whimpered and reached for his lips, kissing him sloppily. A moan coiled in your chest when you tasted yourself on his tongue and lips.

Joshua stopped and looked at you with a pleased smile on his face, and a finger caressed your flushed cheek fondly, only to dip his head to kiss you again.

"God. You're so pretty, so fucking hard to resist," he grunted in your lips.

You whined and your hands cupped his face to slot your lips in his. "Please don't," you whispered, your lips grazing with his. "I want more, Joshua. I want you."

His eyes lingered on yours and you could almost see when it clicked in his mind.

"You want me to fuck you raw," he asked with a low tone.

A shiver ran down your spine when you heard his words.

You nodded, biting your lip so Joshua wouldn't notice that you were practically salivating at the thought.

The corner of his lips twitched. "You already came twice."

"But I want you, Joshua. I want to feel you inside me," you whispered, still writhing from your high.

The glint in his darkened eyes made you think that he enjoyed this. Whatever this was: your sanity slipping away at the mercy of Joshua pleasuring you, doing everything you needed from him.

"I can't fuck you raw, bunny," he muttered, pressing his lips sweetly on yours as you whined in his mouth. "It's too dangerous."

You understood that you were clawing at a limit of his, so you backed down. "Okay," you whispered.

"Good girl," he said as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss.

He slumped his body next to you on your bedsheets, resting his head on his hand as the other started caressing your skin affectionately.

"Joshua?" you called. 

"Mm?" he hummed as he appeared to be deep in thought, tracing invisible circles around your belly button.

"Can I-" you sighed when the tip of his pointer finger traced back to one of your nipples.

"Yes?" he asked, smiling when your nipple hardened and then he did the same with your other nipple.

"Can I touch you?" you whispered.

"You don't have to ask," he muttered with a small smile.

The pleased smile that spread on your lips made him chuckle.

You eagerly grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and Joshua understood immediately, sitting up on the bed and took his t-shirt off in one swift motion.

You sat up on your bed sheets—thus realizing that Joshua wasn't exaggerating when he said you were wetting the bed. You ignored the wet stain on your sheets and hooked the waistband of his sweatpants on your fingers.

"Do you want me naked, sweetheart?" he asked, noticing your struggle to undress him.

"Yeah," you breathed, looking at him expectantly.

He climbed down the bed to pull down the sweatpants, he did it efficiently, without making it a show for you but he still looked really attractive while doing so; his strong thighs stepping out of his sweat pants to reveal his hardened length still inside his underwear.

Suddenly you had other plans. You followed him, standing in front of him as he tilted his head to the side. Your fingers tugged at the band of his black underwear, taking it off of him to reveal his fully hard cock.

Then you lowered yourself to your knees.

"I wanna suck you off," you explained shyly, feeling your core pulsate to the mere act of you being on your knees for him.

His fingers grazed your chin. "Have you done this before?" he asked with a low tone.

You shook your head silently, eyeing him and his cock in front of you. Your hands caressed his strong thighs, trailing up to his hips. You realized then that you didn't touch him like this the other night.

One of your hands grabbed his cock at the base, stroking the soft skin of the length to his wet reddened cockhead. It was large and thick, and it leaned to the side a bit. You rubbed your thumb on the slit, feeling his precum leak on the pad of your thumb.

You glanced up at his dark eyes as you took the wet thumb to your mouth, licking his precum.

His breath hitched noticeably.

"I'll tell you what to do," he nodded, then he cupped your cheek, a serious look on his face. "You can stop if you don't like any of it, m'kay?" he muttered.

You wet your lips and nodded. "Okay," you whispered.

"Open your mouth," he instructed gently. You parted your lips and took the bulbous head of his cock and hesitantly placed it in your tongue.

His cock was too big for you to take him deeper, but you experimentally, and almost instinctively, relaxed your tongue under the weight of his heavy cock, wrapping your mouth around the half of the length.

"Breathe through your nose and move your head forward," he muttered and you did so, pushing your mouth on the length of his cock.

"Then back. You don't have to take me all," he instructed, his hands pushing your hair back from your face, caressing your face with his thumbs in the process. 

Whatever he instructed, you carried out without a second thought.

"Good girl," he whispered. 

Hearing him like this only pushed you to focus, despite the throbbing ache between your legs demanding for equal attention.

You discovered then that you liked the act of you taking his cock in your mouth on your knees for him. The walls of your core fluttered and you knew you were getting wetter as you started bobbing your head back and forth just like he instructed.

"That's it, baby. Just glide your pretty mouth on my cock. Fuck, it feels so good, so fucking good," he groaned.

Slurping sounds came from your lips around his thick cock as you picked up your pace. You darted a look up.

When your eyes met, the corner of his mouth curved up. "You look so good with my cock stuffed in your pretty mouth like this," he muttered, his thumb caressing your cheek.

A whimper coiled in your throat that otherwise would have escaped your lips if his cock wasn't stuffed so deep in your mouth. His cockhead was almost gagging you, hitting the back of your mouth every time you tried to push him further.

Drool trailed from the corners of your mouth. You wiped a side with the back of your hand but Joshua quickly stopped you in the middle of it.

"Don't. I like the way it looks," he mumbled, taking your hand to grab at his thigh again.

That made you take mental notes of everything he liked, every reaction you earned you kept in the back of your head. You wanted to pleasure him as best as you could, you made it your goal to earn more pretty sounds and moans.

He shuddered. "Fuuuuck," he groaned faintly again, his voice raspy and guttural.

You glanced up back at him, an idea popping in your head—you liked it when he sucked on your clit, so maybe he would like it if you suck on him too. Your cheeks hollowed, sucking him as you pulled your head back and then pushing your head forward, taking on more of his cock in with each bob of your head.

His head was thrown back, so you couldn't see much of his face. But his throat bobbed when he swallowed and you hollowed out your cheeks for him to moan deliciously. 

"Fuck—shit," he hissed. "If you keep doing that I'll cum in your mouth," he groaned and his hands tightened on your scalp, attempting to pull out.

But you dug your fingers on his thigh, pulling him back as you did it again, bobbing your head faster and hollowing your cheeks harder.

"Is that what you want, baby?" he asked, a large hand cupping the side of your face, thumb tapping you gently to make you look up at him.

You saw the muscles of his jaw twitch when all you did as a response was blink at him twice, nodding your head ever so slightly without detaching your mouth from his throbbing cock.

"Taking my cum the first time you give head—fuck, you're so, so perfect," he sighed weakly.

His fingers clenched on your hair and you knew he was really close because he was breathing out heavily, broken groans. 

"I'll tell you when it happens. Remember to breathe through your nose," he reminded you gently.

You continued moving your head forward, so far that the tip of your nose almost felt his pubic hair, his cockhead bumping the back of your throat, making it hurt a bit. And then sucking on the length moving your head back, breathing in deeply.

Your eyes darted upwards, finding Joshua's face riddled in lust. He groaned, furrowing his brow a bit as his eyelids were fluttering shut and his mouth parted a bit.

"Cumming," he breathed. 

Then he started making the most raw sounds you've heard him utter yet. His moans sounded sweet and raspy, almost as if he were about to start whimpering; all music to your ears. The hand on your hair clenched, hard. Joshua shuddered and with a louder groan his cum was shooting in the back of your mouth.

You moaned with him and stopped moving your head to breathe through your nose, swallowing quickly as ropes of cum filled your throat. It was slightly salty, warm and it was so much of it.

A fiery rush ran down your spine. You enjoyed giving him head and having him cum in your mouth. You loved the reaction he had, the lewd sounds he made, because of you.  

He was breathing heavily—not the way he did when he fucked you into your bed the other night, that was out of exhaustion. This was different, he was heaving, looking like he was elated.

"That was amazing," he sighed heavily once again.

A shudder shook him hard when you sucked on his cock again before pulling it out from your mouth.

"Woah, don't do that," he giggled softly. "Tickles."

You smiled sweetly. "Was it good?"

He bent down to help you up, cupping your face in his large hands to pull you into a heated kiss, you moaned in his mouth as his tongue lapped on yours, probably tasting himself on your tongue.

"The best fucking head I've ever had," he muttered gruffly on your lips.

You laughed.

"I mean it," he nodded, pressing his forehead on yours.

Then Joshua bent down a little and lifted your body up, eliciting a small yelp from you. You quickly grabbed him by the shoulders, wrapping your legs around him.

He gently placed you on your bed and pressed his lips against yours.

"You did really well, baby," he muttered before capturing your lips with his, kissing you softly.

A strange feeling of fulfillment swelled in your chest.

Joshua leaned his head against your chest, seemingly still coming down from his high because when he lifted his head ever so slightly to meet your eyes, he smiled lazily at you.

You returned the smile. Your hand found the nape of his neck and started drawing invisible figures on his bare back. A sigh coming from his lips brushed your skin, making you shiver.

You could get used to this, you said to yourself.

"I have to go now," he muttered, pushing himself from your body. "But I'll come pick you up later, m'kay?"

"What should I wear?" you asked, suddenly feeling nervous at the prospect of going out with him.

"Whatever you want, bunny," he smiled. "You look good in anything... and with nothing at all, too."

A fluttering sensation invaded your chest. You laughed. "Ditto."

He laughed, bringing a hand up to push his dark hair back anxiously. Was he flustered?

He planted a kiss on your lips and stood up from your bed, dressing up quickly. Again, he didn't make a show of it, but you enjoyed watching him nonetheless.

When he noticed your lustful gaze practically eye-fucking him, he smiled. "Insatiable little thing," he muttered, bending down to give you one final chaste kiss. "I'll see you later, sweetheart."

When Joshua came around to knock on your door, it was eight o'clock.

His black hair was parted naturally in the middle and it looked slightly wet. He wore a white faux leather jacket, white t-shirt and black denim jeans and black boots.

"I'm not ready yet," you told him as soon as he crossed your apartment door.

"I can see that," he smiled, looking at you up and down, noticing the silk robe you were wearing.

"Shut up," you quipped.

Rushing back to your room, you quickly got dressed in the outfit you had decided to wear for the occasion, inferring from the style that you usually saw Joshua dressed in for his gigs. 

Facing the mirror, you thought it was a cute outfit, but nothing prepared you for what Joshua's reaction would be.

As soon as you stepped in front of him, his mouth parted slightly, but was quickly replaced by a smile. He took a step to you, grabbing your hand to pull it up and you understood that he wanted you to twirl for him.

"You're gorgeous," he muttered before grabbing your face with one hand to pull you in a hot kiss.

"Thank you," you smiled sheepishly.

"I brought you something," he muttered in between kisses.

"Oh?" you uttered, being showered by his warm lips.

"But you have to open it when we get back. I just wanted to leave it here before we go," he handed a small black box.

It didn't look like a present, it wasn't wrapped or adorned with anything. You wanted to open it as soon as you took it. It was big enough to cover both of the palms of your hands, and it was somewhat heavy for its size, too.

"What is it?" you asked, looking up to his big eyes.

"It's for later," he replied, you noticed a glint in his eyes.

"Oh," you uttered again, smiling. "What's the reason?"

"Consider it one of the many I plan to give you," he smiled playfully.

You cocked an eyebrow. "Should I worry about what's inside?" you joked.

"It's something I know you'll like," he tilted his head to the side. "Or I hope it does."

Your finger slid on the edge of the black box. You got a faint idea of what was kept inside but decided to listen to Joshua and wait for later.

"Let's go, princess. The boys are waiting for us," he said, taking your hand with his.

"Who?" you asked, swiftly putting the gift on the coffee table and grabbing your purse as you headed out of your apartment.

"My bandmates. You'll like them," he assured you, turning to see you. "They've been eager to meet you."

"You told them about me?" you asked in a high pitch tone.

You got in the elevator together and Joshua pressed the button downstairs.

"I told them I'm bringing you with me and they went crazy about it," he sighed, unlocking his phone to show you a myriad of texts from a Jihoon and a Vernon.

You read the oncoming texts, raging for mostly reactions and exacerbated questions about Joshua finally dating someone. But he quickly shut down those speculations from his bandmates at once by saying you were a friend.

Something else on the screen caught your attention.

"You have seven hundred unread messages? And why do they say you're finally dating someone, what do they mean by finally?" you asked, bewilderedly returning his phone in his hand.

"You are a fast reader," he frowned. "I don't like texting," he shrugged.

"And?" you prompted.

His lips quirked into a smile. "Wouldn't you like to know," he joked, then shrugged again. "I've been single for a while."

"Really?" you asked with a smile, cocking an eyebrow.

"You're in no position to tease me about it," he smiled too.

You brushed him off. "Why are you single?"

"I uh..." he frowned and looked to the floor, as if looking for an answer there, "I haven't found the right person, I guess."

A sudden pang of concern jabbed you in the chest. But you made no comment, just nodded.

"And you?"

"Mmph. Same, I guess."

He looked at you. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

You sighed, contemplating your answer. "Nothing specific. Just… someone who feels right, you know? Someone who matches."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get it. Has to be the right match, or it just doesn't work."

"But it's not like I'm actively looking," you added, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, me neither," he replied, trying to match your tone, but the awkwardness lingered.

Feeling the change, he cleared his throat.

The elevator doors opened and you walked outside of the building toward a large van. Where two men were waiting for Joshua, as soon as they saw you walking at his side, they exchanged a not so discreet look.

Joshua scoffed. "These two," he muttered with a grin.

Joshua opened the front door for you and you got into the passenger seat, noticing on your way that the back of the van was packed with a full drum set and two large guitar cases, a mic stand and sound amplifiers.

"This is Vernon and Jihoon," Joshua introduced you to the two grinning men who looked at you expectantly.

You told them your name with a shy smile.

"Behave," Joshua sneered as he sat in the driver's seat next to you, eyeing at the two guys sitting on the seats behind.

"We haven't said anything!" Jihoon protested with a smug grin.

You wanted to laugh at the way that Jihoon and Vernon exchanged looks once again.

"So... where did you two guys meet?" Jihoon asked either you or Joshua.

You felt like the question was directed towards you. "We're neighbors," you put in flatly. But sensing that you were being shy, added: "I complained at him for being noisy."

"Complained?" he interjected. "More like berated me," he teased as he started the car.

"I did not berate you," you bit back with a smile.

He rolled his eyes. "Put your seatbelt on."

"You first," you mumbled, but you did as he told nonetheless.

Jihoon scoffed loudly, trying not to burst out laughing.

"That's cute," Vernon commented flatly.

"What is?" you asked, turning to see the man sitting directly behind you.

He shrugged.

"It's cute that you're acting like an old married couple," Jihoon translated for his fellow bandmate with a smile.

You laughed. "Joshua is just a tease."

You felt him shift and noticed that he gave you a look.

"Oh, Shua's a nightmare," Jihoon retorted.

"Shua?" you repeated, looking at Joshua and then at Jihoon.

"He has many nicknames, you know. Joshuji, Joshu, Joshie, but the girls prefer Shua," he teased.

"Girls?" you parroted.

"Joshua's fans," Vernon informed, looking at his phone aloofly.

"Instagram fans," Jihoon complemented.

"Mmmph," you hummed.

"He's garnered quite the following," Jihoon teased, enjoying how Joshua was practically seething at him through the rear mirror.

"I imagine. But he told me he doesn't," you quipped.

"What?! He doesn't shut up about it with us," he looked over at Vernon, who just nodded with his head.   

"I can find more drummers, you know," Joshua bit back, looking at Jihoon through the rear view mirror.

"Please," the drummer scoffed.

"So you guys have been in a band for long?" you asked, feeling a certain eagerness to know more about Joshua's life.

"Two years?" Jihoon inferred, looking at Vernon, who just nodded in silence.

"I haven't listened to your music yet," you realized out loud. "I'm excited."

Joshua smiled without tearing his eyes from the road.

You arrived at a place called The Spot. Which was a bar located a few minutes from your apartment building.

Joshua parked the large van in the small parking lot behind the bar for the boys to unload the equipment they brought.

"Come. I'll show you inside," he said, grabbing your hand to lead you inside the dark-neon lit interior.

The bar was a western rock bar with an 80s theme. It had old movie posters and red neon signs on the walls. A U-shaped bar top in the center of the space, a large red neon sign that spelled 'Heartbreaker' mounted on the wall. Next to the booths and tables was a small stage where Jihoon and Vernon were already the drum set mounted.

The bar was not that big, but it was already starting to pack with people.

You sat in the last stool at the bartop, the spot was facing the side of the stage.

Keeping your eyes trained on him. He was scanning his surroundings anxiously, as if he was looking for something but nothing in particular at the same time.

"You can order whatever you want. It's on me," he smiled, and nodded at the two guys behind the bartop.

He fixed his jacket and licked his lips, then noticed your gaze on him.

"Are you nervous?" you asked suddenly.

That drew his big eyes to yours. "Nervous?"

"Yeah, you're fidgety," you pointed.

"I'm not," he said sternly, eyeing you with a glint of annoyance.

You narrowed your eyes. "You are," you insisted. "Why? Is it because I'm here?"

You laughed when all Joshua did was roll his eyes.

"I'll deal with you later," he brushed off before turning away and helping the guys get everything installed.

A pretty girl came forward almost a second later with a notepad and wearing a big smile. "Can I get you anything?" she asked.

You thought about it for a second. "Can I get a virgin piña colada?" you asked, feeling like a kid again.

The girl smiled. "Of course, right away."

Seconds later, the tall man behind the counter handed you your virgin cocktail. It had a cherry on the rim and a small pineapple slice.

"Thanks."

The tall nodded. "Are you a friend of Joshua's?" he asked.

You nodded, looking at his name tag. Mingyu.

When Mingyu smiled, you saw that his pointed fangs adorned his smile in a cute manner.

"You are his friend too?" you asked.

"He's more my boss's friend," he nodded in the direction of a tall guy that was talking with Joshua.

"Does he come here often?" you decided to pry.

"Just every other Thursday," he shrugged.

"D'you have live shows every Thursday then?"

"Yep. We try at least," he said as he poured beer on a crystal jug and put it on the bartop. "We are planning on having stand up nights, but Wonwoo says it's not a good idea," he said, pointing at his partner.

Wonwoo looked up, his ears perking at the sound of his name. "What?" he asked, pushing the rim of his frames up his sharp nose.

"Nothing," Mingyu brushed off.

"Have you thought about having Ladies’ Night?" you inquired, seeing the groups of women fill in the booths around the stage. 

"Huh. Sure, why not," he said in a thoughtful tone. And he turned to his partner. "Hey, what do you think of Ladies’ Night instead of stand up nights?"

Wonwoo shrugged, eyeing you curiously. "Either sounds like more work for me," he smiled shyly at the taller man. "Don't tell Cheol I said that."

The groups of girls coming to the bar, you thought, were due to the fact that the bar was partly cheap and well-decorated. It seemed like a fun place for a mini photo session while getting a few drinks; as you noticed from the people posing in front of the red neon signs.

A second thought was that a large part of the mostly female clientele was because the three guys who ran the bar were good looking.

Mingyu was the sweet, friendly looking guy, tall and buff; he was hot and well aware of it. Wonwoo was the alluring, quiet looking guy, dressed in all black, but whenever he smiled, his nose would wrinkle, telling on his sweet side. And the guy who was talking with Joshua also looked really attractive: tall, with the poise of a commander. Pale blond hair and full lips.

Joshua noticed you looking his way and smiled at you, making your insides jolt in response.

It was almost funny. He'd throw just a glance at you and have your body reacting like crazy.

But you guessed that it was unavoidable.

The eyes on him weren't just yours, but half of the people sitting around the small stage looked at Joshua expectantly as he nodded to his blond friend once and took the strap of his electric guitar to put it around his shoulders.

He did a brief sound check, which consisted of strumming the chords a few times aimlessly. That dragged dozens of eyes to the stage.

The microphone was tapped twice by his finger, as the speakers that played regular music died down, the microphone catching the sound around it and you could hear Joshua clearing his throat briefly.

You noticed the energy change around you, the buzz of the crowd growing quiet and then hushed almost completely when Joshua took the microphone, a white pick trapped between his pointer and middle finger.

"Hi, we're Midnight Haze," Joshua said, "and we're going to be your entertainment for tonight. Enjoy," his lips rose into a smile.

Then he turned to the drummer and nodded. Jihoon moved to get into position on the stool he occupied, lifting the drumsticks in his hands. He tapped them together twice, and with a thunderous splash, the music began reverberating throughout the place.

Then the guitar chords pierced the air and their vibrations could be felt on the barstool you were sitting at. With his eyes fixed on his guitar, Joshua raised his head to place his mouth in alignment with the microphone on the stand.

Under the red glowing light, his face lit up almost ominously as he began to sing. The sweet voice reverberated in your chest due to your closeness to the speakers, but beneath that, you felt a surge of emotion invade your senses as his voice rose with passion, weaving the melodies.

Midnight Haze sounded heavy enough like when a tidal wave crashes, but light and fun enough to dance along. Guitar solos spiral into your ears, Joshua appeared to be enjoying himself while swaying with his guitar, igniting a blaze of raw energy.

You realized that you were not the only one who was awestruck. Definitely not groupies. But there were some girls ogling at him, which, you realized, was difficult to resist.

At least from what you could catch, they had their eyes glued to the lead singer, who was putting on quite a show: dancing with his guitar, swaying his head to the music and smiling at his bandmates in some unspoken exchange.

They played for an hour non-stop, ending with an upbeat song and then he thanked the crowd and said goodbye for himself and the rest of the band. As they stepped down from the stage, the audience applauded and so did you, but you couldn't help but feel that you were left wanting more.

After some minutes, the buzz of the crowd resumed as well as the music from the bar speakers. Joshua made his way to you, sweat on his forehead and his looking a mixture of exhilarated and tired. But he was grinning ear to ear.

"See? No one is throwing themselves at me," he told you. 

"Point taken, rockstar," you rolled your eyes. 

He smiled widely, making your heart lurch. "Did you like the show?"

"Yeah. It was way too short, though. I kinda want more," you smiled up at him, still feeling dazed and a bit deafened.

"Sometimes we play on bigger venues and for longer," he commented, nodding to the small stage that was being cleared up from the band's equipment.

"I'll definitely want to see that," you stated.

His big dark eyes found yours, the corner of his mouth lifted. "I'll help the boys and I'll come back for you," he said and booped the tip of your nose before turning to the stage and helping with the dismounting of the equipment.

You quietly observed him as he busied himself to help clean up the stage. He's so cool, you internally said abashedly. He laughed and joked around with Vernon and Jihoon, drawing the attention of the people around them.

He looked at you from across the room and sneaked a wink. Did he know you'd be staring at him? He waved goodbye to his friends and turned to you.

"Ready, princess?" he asked, looking curiously at your already finished drink. "You had piña coladas?"

"Virgin piña coladas," you emphasized, nodding.

"That reminds me of something," he noted, and went to pay the bill to then return to you. "Come on."

Joshua took your hand as he led you back to the parking lot and opened the door of the van for you.

"We have to talk about some rules," he pointed as he drove back home.

"Rules?" you looked at him. Fuck, he's hot even when he's driving.

He had one hand on the steering wheel, and the other was relaxed on the windowsill.

"Last night I told you I wouldn't do anything to you while you're drunk, remember?"

"I'm not drunk now," you interjected.

"But you told me you didn't care, right?"

"And I don't. You can do whatever you want with me," you blurted, feeling your cheeks grow hotter.

"I need to know when something is completely out of the question, princess," he told you softly, eyeing you again.

"Like what?" you asked.

"Can I fuck you while you sleep?" he asked, by the tone he used, you could tell he was just giving you an example.

You smirked. "Sounds like you wouldn't do that," you retorted.

"I'm not into that," he admitted.

"That's why you couldn't last night?" you decided to pry.

"You weren't sober. Under different circumstances, I might've considered it. But last night just didn't feel right," he explained, seemingly deep in thought.

"Noted," you smiled at the careful consideration he had over you.

"I think we need to establish a safeword," he said after some seconds.

You saw him toy with his lower lip as the other hand still gripped the steering wheel.

"And I use this safe word whenever I don't like something, right?"

There was a bit you knew about the use of safewords—you were a bit inexperienced, yes. But not completely out of the loop.

"If you want me to stop, you say it and I will," he nodded, as he parked the van in the parking lot. Swiftly unbuckling his seatbelt, he hopped out of the van and then hurried over to your door.

You were both on the elevator when you told him your safeword after some careful consideration.

"Got it," he nodded again, licking his lower lip in a thoughtful expression. "Any reason why that's your safeword?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," you quipped, a playful smile spreading on your lips.

He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You've been really bratty today, princess," he pointed.

"Oh, please," you pushed his shoulder playfully. "It's just a bit of teasing, can't you handle it, Shua? What are you going to do?"

The doors opened with a soft ding.

"Alright," he scoffed, and with a sudden movement, he bent down to throw you over his shoulder as if it was nothing.

"Joshua! Put me down!" you squealed.

You heard him laugh as he walked with you secured over his shoulder and stopped in what you guessed was your apartment.

He entered the combination to your smart-lock and pushed the door open.

"Now princess, where did you put the box I gave you?" he asked as soon as the door closed behind him.

"Coffee table," you mumbled, starting to feel dizzy.

Joshua didn't put you down as he took the box from the coffee table by crouching down slightly to reach it. Your limbs and head dangled helplessly, blood rushed to your head but as he moved to your bedroom, he set your backside on the bed, setting you down finally.

"Open it," he encouraged, and started to take off his jacket.

"I think I know what I'm gonna find here," you muttered, recovering with a sigh.

"Oh, do you?" he looked up at you while you took the lid of the box off.

The box contained two things, one of which confirmed that your suspicions were right—rope. Tightly coiled and bundled, it was black and new, by the smell of it. It was also soft, when you gently reached out a finger to touch it.

Next to the rope, a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs.

"I got two options for you to choose for tonight," Joshua explained and you found his big eyes scrutinizing you.

Instinctively, you grabbed the rope, since it seemed more alluring to you at that moment.

Joshua smiled knowingly, taking the rope from your hands. "Alright, princess. Rope it is," he nodded.

"But I liked the handcuffs too," you blurted.

"Patience, bunny. We'll have plenty more nights," he stated, making your insides jolt with eagerness.

"M'kay," you mumbled, looking at him anxiously.

In reality, you didn't have 'plenty more nights' as he said, since your deal with him was to be fuck buddies until you finished your manuscript. Which you have been dreading to finish.

He noticed your restive eyes on him and dipped his head to slot his lips in yours, giving you a reassuring kiss.  

"Take off your clothes for me, sweetheart," he instructed gently before pressing his lips with yours.

Your breath hitched so embarrassingly you had to bite down your lower lip. You liked the way he told you what to do, you liked that he took control. So you did what he told you to do.

As your clothes came off, Joshua busied himself preparing the rope for you. But his eyes remained fixed on you as you made a show to take off your clothes for him.

He sat at the foot of the bed—watching you with a sweet smile that didn't fully show his teeth. Your heart fluttered uneasily when his gaze darkened slowly when you got to your see through the mesh red lingerie he asked you to wear.

You unclasped your bra and sheepishly moved it from your chest, throwing it to the floor to then tug at the hem of your thong. 

"Leave that on," he stopped you before you could get to the last piece of your undergarments. 

The rope came undone on his hands, it was longer than you expected. Watching his hand twist the rope in an organized fashion, using his elbow as an anchor while his other hand grasped the other end of the knot.

"You've done this before," you pointed.

"Or," he countered with a grin, "I just know how to tie rope."

You squinted, catching the obvious white lie. "How many times have you done this?" you pressed.

"I don't think you really want to hear the answer to that, princess," he quipped.

Fair.

"Mmph," you hummed.

He sighed and looked at you, almost fully naked under the dim lights of your bedroom. "Yes, sweetheart. I've done this before. Don't worry," he nodded to the bed.

You understood and climbed your bed, moving your body to the middle and lying down on your pillows. Joshua followed you on his knees before you.

He extended the rope out for you, organized in two holes for you to fit your hands inside. You anxiously stuck your hands on each hole, at the same time Joshua slid the knot, tucking it closer to your wrists.

"Is it too tight?" he asked, and you could tell he was excited already.

You shook your head, your eyes trained on Joshua as he bent to finish tying the rope on the rails of the headboard of your princess bed—thus pinning your arms above your head.

"Remember our safeword," he said softly before placing a tender kiss on your lips.

You repeated your safeword, and then you started to feel your body heat in anticipation.

"That's my good girl," he sighed, pressing his lips on yours. "You're good only when you're about to get fucked, right?"

You attempted to give him an answer but his tongue dragged on your lower lip, finding your tongue as he kissed you slowly, enjoying the taste of your lips with a soft hum.

"I'm always good," you replied meekly.

"Oh, sweetheart. If only that were true. You wouldn't be tied right now," he smirked and pulled away from your body.

Joshua jumped from the bed, and started getting rid of his clothes, except his underwear. He smiled when he noticed you looking at him and turned to open the first drawer where he knew now you kept your toys.

Your blood rushed to your cheeks, and involuntarily you moved your hands to no avail—your arms were completely restrained.

"Do you keep them charged, princess?" he asked while he rummaged through your clothes to find your toys on the bottom of the drawer, stored neatly inside a shoe box.

"Yeah," you breathed nervously.

"How often do you use them?" he asked.

"Um... last time I used them was... wh-when I had that dream about you," you stuttered.

"Did you cum, baby?" he asked, looking over to your body as he made his way back to you .

You nodded. "And while I was sleeping," you muttered sheepishly.

He cocked his pierced eyebrow. "Is that even possible?" he asked, climbing back to the bed with two of your toys.

"It was for me," you breathed.

"So you came... twice? From a little wet dream of me eating you out?" he asked, his eyes marveling at the sight of you tied to your bed.

You nodded.

He smiled, letting out a sigh. "My perfect little bunny. Who would've thought you'd be this needy," he leaned in, cupping the side of your face to press his lips on the tip of your nose, then to your lips.

The urge of touching his face too invaded you, your arms twitched, the tight knot of rope stopping you before you could even move any further.

It was almost funny—being aware of the impossibility of touching him but still aching to do so aroused you.

"Joshua... please," you gulped hard.

His laugh came as a surprise to you. "Begging already, princess?"

"I need you," you whimpered, looking at him through your eyelashes.

"But you are in no position to make demands, baby," he muttered and planted a chaste kiss on your lips which you returned eagerly, trying to sneak the tip of your tongue between his lips but he pulled back slightly with a smirk.

"But you said-"

"I know what I said," he interjected. "That was before you acted all bratty today, wasn't it, sweetheart?"

You let out a small whine and bit your lower lip.

"So maybe I won't fuck you tonight, how about that?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his black bangs obscuring one eye.

"You wouldn't do that," you whined, writhing on your bed, the restraints stopping you before you could do anything at all.

"Careful there, princess. These might be soft but I bet you bruise easily, don't you?" he asked, tugging at the knot pinning your wrists.

"Joshua!" you squeaked.

"Yes?" he met your eyes, giving you an innocent look.

It was insane how controlled he looked, the way he looked at you as if you were his prey and he were just toying with you.

You fumbled for the words, but as his eyes bored into yours, you felt at a loss.

"Joshua, please," you whispered when his lips found your sweet spot between your ear and jawline, making you moan when his lips sucked softly.

"Keep begging all you want, baby," he muttered, and you just knew he was smiling.

His hands trailed down your body, roaming, caressing your breasts and playing with your nipples using his thumbs. You moaned helplessly and grinded your hips against the growing bulge of his dark underwear.

"Desperate little thing," he groaned, lowering his body to attach his mouth to one of your nipples, making you cry out loudly and try to reach for his black hair.

Since your head was propped up in your pillows, you had a fairly good view of him biting and sucking at your nipples, it wasn't hard, but just enough to make you squirm and whimper under him.

"You have the prettiest tits, baby," he muttered as he nibbled softly at one of your nipples. "Can I mark them?"

You nodded as his gaze found yours. "Yeah, p-please do," you urged.

The corner of his lips lifted before pressing his lips on the underside of your tits and sucked softly. You moaned softly, wanting to run your hand through his hair, but not being able to make you feel more uneasy.

"Oh, Joshua," you whimpered as he made a trail of angry red spots on your tits. It was a strange feeling, having his hot mouth sucking on the skin around your areolas.

"I like these," he muttered, toying with the hem of your thong. "I love that you remembered to wear them."

"How could I not?" you quipped, feeling a bit breathless at the sight of him slotting his head between your thighs, kissing your pulsing clit through the meshy fabric of your thong.

"You could be a sweet talker when you want to," he smiled before pressing his tongue flatly on your core, making you cry out.

He sucked gently at your clit for a moment and then pulled his tongue away, hooking his fingers on your thong to slide them down your legs.

You saw him purse his lips directly above your pussy, and spit fell from his mouth, coating your clit. The sight of it alone made you utter a ridiculous sound.

And just when you thought he was going to continue eating you out, he grabbed something he had hidden beside him on the bed, and you realized by the pinkish color on his hand what it was.

"D'you use this often, sweetheart?" he asked as he pressed on the button of your rose vibrator.

He gently parted your pussy lips with his fingers, making you whimper when he placed the sucking tip of the vibrator directly on your clit.

"I... sometimes," you answered as the toy sucked your clit in its mechanical, trained patterns.

"And what about this one, baby?" he asked softly, grabbing with his free hand a wavy glass dildo.

You groaned, feeling both aroused and embarrassed. If you had your hands free, you'd use them to cover your face.

"What's wrong, baby?" he giggled, seeing your reaction. "I saw your collection of toys. I have a rough idea of what you like, but I want you to tell me."

You rolled your eyes, deeply flustered.

"That's my favorite," you pointed with your nose to the clear dildo, adorned with a pink heart at the end. "But if I want to... do things quickly I use this," you pointed to the toy trying to swallow your clit.

"Oh, really?" he smirked and bent forward to plant a sweet kiss on your lips. "I love the idea of you fucking yourself with your toys, princess," he told you before he kissed one of your hot cheeks.

"You do?" you asked in a high pitch tone.

"Yeah," he breathed, and you just loved the way he said it. "My pretty needy bunny, bouncing on a fucking toy. Now, that's something I'd like to see."

You moaned in his lips. But he pulled away too soon, suddenly turning off the vibrator, making you groan at the loss of stimulation. Then he spit on the tip of the dildo, coating it completely with his drool.

Joshua had a grin on his face when you whined loudly at the sudden intrusion of the glass dildo, the bulbous tip pushing your walls open.

"I see why you like this," he muttered as he pushed further into the second wave. "It looks insane, baby. Your pretty pussy is swallowing it in," he whispered.

The dildo was only halfway in, but apparently that's what Joshua wanted because he started rocking it back and forth in your walls, at the same time he clicked the vibrator on again and attached it to your swollen clit, sucking and sending waves through your body.

You moaned and gasped. You had never had both toys on your cunt before, for obvious reasons.

But the vibrator was relentless and the combination of both was making you writhe and cry of pleasure, feeling really close to your release.

"Joshua!" you cried, writhing in your bed so desperately that the headboard of your bed rattled a bit. "Please, please, don't stop." 

"Are you going to come, princess?" he asked and you nodded your head frantically.

He pulled the toys away from your throbbing cunt in a second. You blinked and furrowed your brow at him. 

His lips were clashing on yours before you could utter a word. He moaned softly as he swiped your lower lip with his tongue.

"Remember how bratty you were today, bunny," he muttered gruffly. "I want you to think of it when I allow you to come."

"Joshua, please, just-" you moaned pathetically, trying to push your hips to the dildo still held directly in front of your sopping core.

"What, baby? What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.

"I want-" you gasped and gulped.

"Do you want me to keep fucking you with your toys? Or do you want my cock?"

The rope around your wrists tightened when you desperately tried to move your arms. "I want you, please Joshua" you whined.

He hummed, seeming to consider it. "Such a greedy girl," he muttered while he kissed you slowly with his wet lips. "Only behaves when she wants my cock."

The vibrator clicked on again under his thumb, attaching it to your clit again and thrusting the glass dildo on your fluttering walls. You contorted in your bed, trying to get the best out of the pleasure from the toys to sate your sopping core, biting down the inside of your cheek to stop the whimpers and sobs.

"I want to hear you," he said and you cried out instantly, feeling so close again to your release.

You screwed your eyes shut, propping your feet on the mattress to try and thrust your hips further on the dildo, trying to fuck yourself faster on it.

You arched your back just as you were about to have your much desired orgasm. But then Joshua set  the vibrator aside and from your clit.

"Please, please, please," you moaned over and over again. "Shua, please, I need you. Please, fuck me."

Then he pulled away from your body, with one swift movement he got rid of his underwear and slotted his body between your legs. He was sliding down a condom and before you could see what was happening properly, he was pushing his cock in your core with a loud groan.

You cried out in both pleasure and pain as he immediately started thrusting his big cock inside you, pushing your walls open for him.

"Fuck, baby. How are you still this fucking tight?" he groaned, his hands grabbing your hips as he pushed himself until he bottomed out and you could feel his full length inside you.

"Shua," you cried weakly.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked, pushing into your walls slowly.

"'m fine," you whimpered, closing your eyes to savor the pleasure of finally having him inside you as best as you could. "I just- I love having you inside me."

He giggled sweetly. "You do?"

You nodded with your head. "I love it s-much," you mumbled. "It feels so good."

"You feel great too," he said in a strangled voice.

Then Joshua started thrusting faster and harder, making your body bounce on his cock and the headboard slam repeatedly on the wall. You closed your eyes and swallowed hard as Joshua quite practically fucked you into your bed loudly.

You moaned deliriously when you felt the vibrator attached to your clit again, crying out when it started sending pulsations relentlessly, just as Joshua's hips buckled slightly, and his thrusts became more precise and calculated, holding your hips down with one hand.

"F-fuck," you whimpered, your eyes welling up with tears as you could feel yourself weaken under so much pleasure. 

"Too much, baby?" he asked and you picked up on the hint of concern in his voice.

"'m fine, Shua," you replied in a hoarse voice, blinking your tears helplessly. "I'm-m fuck-"

"You're squirting, baby," he told you in a low tone of awe, his eyes trained on your cunt as he plunged his cock inside you, his hand still pressing the vibrator on your clit.

"But I'm not coming," you protested, lifting your head to see but his hand blocked your view.

"I know, sweetheart," he smirked. "Tell me when you're close."

A frustrated groan fell from your lips and threw your head back against the pillows, avoiding answering.

Joshua let out an amused sigh at your small tantrum and you looked at him—he looked mesmerized. His lascivious eyes trained on you, his lower lip trapped behind his teeth, his black bangs stuck against a light layer of sweat that covered his forehead. 

He was on his knees, sitting back on his heels, the muscles of his abdomen tightening with every thrust, your legs draped on his thighs, a hand grabbing your hips, holding you in place while the other kept the toy pressed on your swollen clit.

The sight alone made your walls flutter and clench around him. You wanted to grab him, to feel his skin. The rails to which you were tied to made a rattling noise when you tried to move your arms.

The pressure building inside you from the toy pressing your clit and his cock pushing inside you—you moaned and squirmed on your bed.

"Shua, 'm close, fuckfuckfuck 'm so close," you whimpered, blinking some tears helplessly.

"What did I tell you, princess?" he pushed his cock inside you in a more demanding way, as if trying to rip your orgasm from you.

"I'll be good, Shua, I'm sorry-," you breathed desperately. "Jus' le-let me cum, please?"

"You learn fast," he praised with a lazy smirk. "You can cum, baby," he nodded, his face riddled with lust.

A second later you were writhing, crying out his name, the rope tightening around your wrists as you came hard, back arching and walls spasming erratically around his cock.

"Joshua," you breathed as he rode your high with precise and calculated thrusts.

A faint thought appeared in your mind—you probably looked like a mess, tied to the rails of your bed, hickeys all over your tits, crying and babbling nonsense.

"Fuck, I can't—Shua," you moan an writhed, feeling your core ache and spasm helplessly under the overwhelming stimulation.

"Are you safewording, bunny?" he asked, again, there was that tone of concern.

You shook your head weakly on your pillows. "No—don't stop, I want you, oh Joshua—fuck, fuck!"

You tried to press your ass down on the bed, trying to create some distance from the painful sensation in your oversensitive clit. Joshua appeared to be reading on how your body reacted, and changed the mode of the vibrator to a more delicate one. 

You screwed your eyes shut, feeling like you could sink into a void from all the pleasure your body was feeling, it was almost breaking you. 

You heard a soft sigh. "My pretty bunny. Do you like being fucked silly?" he was smiling from the tone of his voice.

"Love it—love having your cock inside me s'much," you replied almost instantly in a slurry babble.

That made him laugh. "Can you give me another one then, sweetheart? Cum for me again."

You nodded, savoring your fourth orgasm of the day. Your fingers clenched the rope as a form of soothing your body from the waves of pleasure threatening to wash over you. 

"Shua," you whimpered.

"I know, baby," he groaned, blinking slowly as he threw his head back ever so slightly. "I know."

Something snapped inside you, making you close your eyes so tightly you saw colors and then a slew of cries and hoarse moans came out of your mouth until you were breathless and crying from the overwhelming pleasure, the tears running down your temples.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, and you knew from his face that he was cumming with you. His slightly parted mouth, eyelids fluttering, fingers digging at your hips.

The slamming noises from the headboard against the wall of your bedroom ceased, as Joshua threw the vibrator across the bed, his thrusts lazily coming to a stop with a last strangled moan.

You saw him bend his body forward to untie you in a swift tug of his fingers.

Then his hands were cupping your face, his lips slotting in yours, kissing you fervently.

"You're so good for me, bunny," he muttered in between kisses. "So, so good for me."

Your arms languidly wrapped around his neck as you returned his heated kiss. You moaned at the feeling of having his hot mouth on yours, savoring him.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asked after you didn't respond.

"Uh-huh," you replied weakly.

He pressed his chapped lips in a smile that made your heart jolt. Looking at you with a glint of endearment as his fingers gathered some tears that were gathered in the corners of your eyes.

"You sure?" he whispered, his eyebrows knitting together.

You nodded. "'m sure."

"D'you want me to stay?" he asked hesitantly.

"Please?"

He blinked slowly at you, a cute smile stretching his lips. "Of course," he nodded. "Let me take care of you then."

He planted a soft kiss on your forehead and left the bed against your small groan in protest. When he returned a moment later, he had discarded the condom and you could hear the faint noise from the shower running in the bathroom.

"Don't move. I'll carry you," he said as he slid his arms beneath your body, bringing you up to his chest effortlessly.

"Thanks," you mumbled, feeling yourself come back to your senses.

"Don't thank me, baby," he mumbled, glancing at your face with a cautious look.

He set you down on the floor and guided you to stand under the showerhead. The warm water worked its magic, reviving your muscles and senses back to life.

Joshua was looking at you with his curious eyes, as he usually did. But this time, he looked kind of worried.

"Was it too much?" he finally asked as he watched your body soak in the warm water. "You're really quiet."

A reassuring smile crept in your lips. "I'm fine, Joshua. You don't have to worry about me," you replied.

"But I do, let me worry," he said, taking one of your hands to examine your wrists, which were reddened.

Your heart jolted again. "I liked it, Shua. Otherwise I would've told you, right?" you mumbled sheepishly.

His big eyes met yours, and you could see his features relax. His hand released yours to find your nape and pull you into a tender kiss.

"Thank you for trusting me," he muttered, resting his forehead against yours.

It was deafening and alarming—your heart was strumming against your chest, fast; a flutter of nervousness in your tummy. Fuck, this can't be happening, you told yourself. But a part of you knew this was bound to happen.

You were falling in love. 

✮ a/n: first of all: can we pretend that vernon knows how to play the electric bass for the sake of this chapter pls (˘･_･˘)

thank you to everyone who showed love to part i and for the ones who waited for part 2 ty ty ty! i made this chapter extra juicy for those who waited tehe

what do you guys think Midnight Haze sound like? i thought of something like nothing but thieves or sam fender [especially this cover song] but do let me know your opinions! [links re-direct to youtube vids]

you can send an ask, chat with me, or drop your comments don't be shy (◠‿◠)

✮ READ PART 3 !! ✮

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