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aleksatia · 4 days ago

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Five Times the Kitchen Caught Fire (and So Did They) - Request

I've been completely swallowed by work and daily life, and for a long time (even though my hands were itching), I just couldn’t find the time to sit down and write something new. April is coming to an end, and most of my plans are still unfinished. So I’ve decided to focus on your requests first — they take priority — and Songfic Game will come after that.

Picked one of the requests at random — thank you @seris-the-amious for sending it in!

CW/TW: sexual content, explicit language, suggestive themes, alcohol use, mild intoxication, food-related chaos, fire/flood/kitchen disasters, implied nudity, mild injury (non-serious), emotionally charged intimacy, flirtation, teasing, domestic fluff, bad cooking decisions, one named lobster spared.

Pairings: Zayne x Girlfriend!You; Rafayel x Fiancée!You; Xavier x Girlfriend!You; Caleb x Not-yet-girlfriend!You; Sylus x Fiancée!You Genre: Domestic chaos meets romantic heat. Lovers tangled in kitchens, kitchens tangled in disasters. From soft smut to feral tension, from teasing to tenderness. Culinary mishaps, emotional closeness, playful banter, and sex that simmers like a slow-burn reduction. Fluff with bite. Fire alarms optional, intimacy inevitable. Summary: Five different stories, each with their own vibe and varying degrees of chaos — from soft fluff to full-blown kitchen insanity. Some are louder, some quieter; not all include intimacy, but you know me — I’ll make it up to our beloved LIs next time. Word Count: (5 stories) 1.3K | 1.6K | 1.9K | 3.6K | 4.2K

🍷 Cooking with Wine

You’d only meant to loosen up.

The recipe had three steps. You had two hands. One of them, unfortunately, held a wine glass for most of the night. The other kept getting distracted by those endless cooking reels and the fact that Zayne wasn’t home yet. He was supposed to be. But surgeries run long, and you got bored, then creative, then… clumsy.

The pan got wine. The sauce got wine. You got wine. Somewhere around glass number three, you decided that music and dancing would “help the flavor profile.” You were still wearing his button-up shirt from earlier — a white one, a little oversized, warm from where it had dried on the radiator. Only one button done. Just enough to cover what mattered. Bare legs and fuzzy socks.

The dog watched, fascinated, as you waltzed with a ladle.

When Zayne walked in, you didn’t hear the door. He moved too quietly for that. You only noticed when a shadow passed behind you — his silhouette in the hall, tall and still.

He stepped into the kitchen like a man entering a crime scene. His eyes scanned everything at once: the scorched pan, the bubbling red concoction, the open bottle on its side. The singed towel near the stove.

Then you.

You grinned, wobbling slightly, your wine glass half-full and tilted at a reckless angle.

“Darling,” you said, voice sticky-sweet and delighted, “you’re home just in time for dinner-slash-arson.”

Zayne didn’t blink. He crossed to the stove, sniffed the air once, and exhaled through his nose with terrifying neutrality.

“This is flammable,” he said.

“Like… sexy-flammable?” You fluttered your lashes. “Because I did wear your shirt, which I consider an advanced form of foreplay.”

He turned off the burner. Set the spoon down. Removed the towel with two fingers like it personally offended him. Then turned to face you, arms crossed.

“You put cinnamon in a tomato-based reduction.”

You squinted. “How do you know that?”

“I can smell it.” A pause. “And it’s floating on top like an oil slick.”

“I was improvising.”

“You were drinking.”

You tilted your head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

There was a long pause — like the kind that stretches between heartbeats on a monitor. And then Zayne stepped forward, one smooth movement, and cupped your jaw in one hand. His thumb brushed just under your lower lip, catching the smudge of wine you didn’t know was there.

“You are…” His voice dipped. Barely audible. “Absolutely not allowed near a stove unsupervised.”

You smiled against his touch. “Are you volunteering for the job?”

His eyes met yours — steady, dark, impossible to read. Then his other hand slid to your waist, pulled you forward with quiet precision. His mouth brushed yours. Not rushed. Not rough. Just… intent.

“You look like a disaster,” he murmured.

“Thank you.”

“And you smell like a vineyard in crisis.”

“I bathed in pinot noir for you.”

“Of course you did.”

The kiss deepened. His mouth was warm, patient, and maddeningly controlled — like he was cataloging every sound you made, every angle of your lips. His hands stayed low, anchoring you, guiding you. You arched into him, pressing closer, trying to pull him out of his perfect stillness.

When you moaned into his mouth — quiet, desperate — he broke. Just slightly.

His fingers clenched at your hips, hard enough to leave intention behind. His tongue slid along yours, not tentative now, but searching. Mapping. The clinical calm in him twisted into something rougher. More human.

He picked you up like it was nothing — no grunt, no awkward shifting. Just your thighs wrapped around his waist and the firm press of his hands under your legs as he carried you to the counter and set you down among chaos: wine bottle, scorched pot, an abandoned spoon.

His mouth found your neck next. Soft at first. Then not. His teeth grazed. His breath hitched when your hands found the hem of his shirt, dragging it out of his waistband.

“You're drunk,” he murmured against your throat.

“I’m charming.”

“You are a menace.”

“And you,” you said, tugging him closer until he groaned against your collarbone, “are very overdressed for someone who wants me off this counter.”

He chuckled — low and rare. Then obeyed.

The way he moved was maddening — methodical, as if he were dissecting the moment with reverence. Each button undone on your shirt felt like a soft command. His fingers skimmed your ribs, feather-light, grounding you between warm palms and the cool marble beneath you. He wasn’t rushing. Zayne never rushed. He savored. Studied. Tasted.

He dipped his head and pressed a kiss just above your heart, then lower, catching your breath between his teeth. Your thighs tightened around his hips, pulling him closer — close enough to feel how hard he already was beneath his slacks, restrained and ready. You weren’t sure which one of you was shaking harder.

His hands mapped your body like it was his favorite puzzle — thumbs brushing the curve of your hips, his mouth finding the soft underside of your jaw, then your breast, tongue circling slowly, painfully. You moaned, half a sound, half a plea, and he smiled against your skin like a man memorizing fault lines.

You reached behind, fumbling for the wine glass — still miraculously upright — and brought it to your lips. Took a long, slow sip. He paused, watching you. Sharp gaze, mouth parted.

Then, without breaking eye contact, you pulled him down and kissed him — wet, warm, deliberately messy — and let the wine spill between your lips into his. He didn’t hesitate. He drank from you like he was starved. Like it was ritual. Like you were the altar.

The kiss turned brutal — slick and heady, the taste of red grapes and something feral between you. He groaned into your mouth and pinned your wrists to the counter, grinding his hips forward until your head fell back with a gasp.

“Zayne,” you whimpered, back arching. “Now. Please.”

He didn’t answer. He just shifted, one hand dragging your underwear down your thighs with surgical precision. You didn’t even register when your legs parted wider — it just happened, instinct, need. He undid his belt one-handed, pants low enough for contact, not enough to waste time.

The first thrust was slow — testing. The second made your mouth fall open. The third pulled a strangled noise from your throat that didn’t even sound like his name.

Zayne cursed under his breath and buried his face in your neck. His rhythm wasn’t desperate — he never was — but it carried purpose, weight, knowledge. He knew exactly where to press, when to shift, how to pull your body apart and hold it there — open, high, ruined. One hand locked behind your knee, lifting your leg just enough for deeper angles, and when your breath caught, he did it again. And again.

You held onto his shoulders like the world was tilting. His skin under your fingers was warm, taut, real. His breath stuttered against your ear.

“Say it,” he whispered, voice raw. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“You know I am.”

“I want to hear it.”

You looked up at him, completely undone, and whispered, “I’m yours.”

He kissed you like he’d waited years. His hips stuttered. Your nails sank into his back. His rhythm frayed into something rougher, needier — less science, more prayer. You came with a cry caught in your throat, legs trembling around his hips. He followed seconds later, jaw clenched against your neck, breath faltering like something sacred had cracked open in him.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. His forehead rested on your shoulder, sweat slick between you, hearts slamming like fists.

And then — quietly, from behind you — came a soft drip.

Zayne glanced over your shoulder.

A single string of sauce, still too hot and wildly overspiced, slid off the edge of the abandoned pan and landed with a wet slap on the floor.

He sighed. “You burned the reduction.”

You smiled, still breathless. “But the dessert turned out perfect.”

🦞Omar the Almost-Dinner

You started with the garlic.

Three cloves, crushed under the flat of the blade, then minced until your fingers gleamed and the scent climbed into your throat. A generous pour of golden oil bloomed in the shallow copper pan, already warm, catching the light that poured in through Rafayel’s east-facing windows.

The whole kitchen glowed like watercolor — sunlight moving through glass, catching on polished marble, the sea breathing in the distance. It always felt like standing inside one of his paintings. Too beautiful. A little surreal. Like something sacred might happen if you just held still.

You stirred the garlic with a wooden spoon and whispered, “You’re not going to feel a thing.”

On the far end of the counter, the lobster shifted slightly inside the shallow glass bowl you’d filled with cold saltwater. His long antennae twitched.

You eyed him.

“I’m not going to name you,” you said firmly.

He waved one rubber-banded claw.

You scowled. “That wasn’t a wave.”

Another twitch.

“It wasn’t,” you repeated, softer now. “It was… a muscle spasm.”

You turned back to the garlic. Added butter. A splash of white wine. A whisper of lemon zest.

It hissed. Smelled like summer and salt and the things Rafayel hummed about when he painted early in the morning with one hand in your lap.

You glanced at the lobster. He blinked at you. Slowly. With dignity.

And it hit you.

You were going to kill something. Not just cook. Not reheat, not sear, not pan-fry leftovers.

Kill.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, throat suddenly thick. “It’s not that I don’t love you. I mean, I don’t. Not like — love-love — I love him. But I’m trying. For him.”

You gestured to the pot, now gently boiling behind you.

“That’s for you. That’s how it’s done. It’s quick. Dignified. You go in. You feed him. You become part of something beautiful.”

You paused. The lobster shifted again. Like he disagreed. Profoundly.

You looked down at your outfit.

His silk kimono, white and silver, open at the collar. Your hair twisted up, held in place by one of his old paintbrushes, soft bristles curled with dry cobalt. You’d worn it like a good omen. Like a challenge.

Now it just made you feel like a fraud.

You stepped closer to the bowl. He stared at you.

“…Omar,” you breathed.

Damn it.

“No. No! That wasn’t a name. I didn’t—”

He waved again.

You made a noise halfway between a sob and a curse. “Oh my god, you’re real. You’re someone.”

The pot behind you bubbled louder, as if urging you on. But your hand wouldn’t move.

You looked down at him — Omar. This wet little witness to your culinary ambition and your spiritual collapse. Your eyes stung. You pressed your fingers into the edge of the counter until your knuckles blanched.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

And that’s when the soft sound of bare feet against polished stone made you freeze.

Rafayel stood in the doorway, framed by light. His robe hung open just enough to reveal the fine line of his collarbone, the suggestion of morning skin and sleep-warmth. His hair was half-tied, the rest falling over his shoulders in sea-colored waves.

He took one look at you. At the bowl. At the tears.

And then, very gently:

“…Did you name the lobster?”

You didn’t turn around. You just sniffled — once, pitifully — and stared harder at the glass bowl where Omar sat like a prisoner on death row.

Rafayel crossed the floor in bare, silent steps. He stopped beside you. Looked down into the bowl. The silence stretched, long and gentle.

You swiped a hand beneath your nose and choked, “Ask him. Ask him if he’s mad at me.”

“…Pardon?”

You turned toward him, wide-eyed and red-lipped and clearly unraveling, the paintbrush still skewed at a defiant angle through your bun.

“Ask him,” you repeated, voice wobbling. “I almost turned him into your lunch. Omar probably hates me.”

There was a pause. Then, very seriously, Rafayel looked down at the lobster.

“Omar,” he said softly. “Do you harbor ill will toward my beloved?”

The lobster didn’t move. You looked devastated.

“I think he’s giving me the silent treatment,” you whispered.

Rafayel blinked once. Then, in a voice that was 80% calm and 20% suppressing laughter:

“Cutie… lobsters have extremely primitive nervous systems. Their brains are about the size of—”

“Don’t talk about Omar that way!” you snapped, and slapped his arm.

Rafayel clutched his chest in mock offense. “Forgive me. I forgot he was royalty.”

“He has dignity,” you said with a fierce sniff. “And a name. And feelings.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Rafayel leaned in. Kissed the tip of your nose.

“You are utterly unhinged,” he murmured.

You opened your mouth to argue — but his hands were already at your waist, pulling you into him, your fingers still slick with butter and grief. He rested his chin on your shoulder, eyes fixed on the lobster.

“I was going to boil him,” you whispered. “With herbs. Lemon. I crushed garlic just for him.”

“Of course you did.”

“I ruined everything.”

“No,” Rafayel said, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You just… rerouted the menu. Happens to the best of us.”

You melted into his hold, the silk of his robe brushing your thigh where the kimono had slipped. His body was warm. Steady. He smelled like sea salt and sugar and some ancient perfume no one could name.

“What do we do now?” you asked.

He kissed your cheek, slow and indulgent. Then reached down, lifted Omar from his bowl like a high priest lifting a relic, and turned with regal grace toward the atrium.

“To the koi.”

The koi tank lived in his studio.

Not just because of the light — though it was exquisite in the late afternoon, spilling across the floor in long golden strips — but because Rafayel said the fish helped him “remember the rhythm of the world.” You never questioned it. Just like you didn’t question the fact that he sometimes hummed to them in a language the ocean might’ve forgotten. Or that he had names for all of them: Persephone, Laertes, Blanche, Judas.

Now he stood barefoot at the rim of the tank, the silk of his robe slipping open over his chest, Omar cupped gently in both hands like a waterlogged jewel.

The koi scattered as he approached. Swirls of red and silver and ghost-white fins vanished into the corners of their glass world. Rafayel crouched. Whispered something you didn’t catch. Maybe an apology. Maybe a blessing. Maybe a threat to behave.

Then, very delicately, he lowered Omar into the water.

The lobster drifted for a moment — legs splayed, antennae lifted like tiny banners of defiance — before kicking once and spiraling down toward the gravel, claws first.

You stood behind Rafayel, arms folded over your chest, watching the crustacean establish dominance over a large piece of ornamental driftwood.

“He’s fine,” Rafayel said, not looking back.

“He’s thriving,” you muttered, deadpan. “An icon.”

Rafayel turned, stood, wiped his damp fingers across the silk lapel of his robe. “You know, I’ve hand-fed Persephone for five years, and she still won’t come near me unless I sing Puccini.”

“I relate.”

He tilted his head. “To whom?”

“To Persephone.”

He smiled — soft and sharp at once — and stepped closer. “You cried over a lobster.”

“I cried over almost murdering a lobster.”

He reached out, ran his fingers down your arm. “And why, my sea-witch, were you even attempting culinary homicide?”

You sighed. Shoulders slumped. The knot of shame in your stomach finally loosened.

“I hate cooking,” you confessed. “I hate it. I hate the mess. The timing. The stress. Everything tastes like failure and burnt dreams.”

Rafayel’s brows rose. “And yet you attempted to flambé my emotions alive.”

“I was trying to impress you,” you said, voice quiet now. “Because I love you. And I thought — if I made you something real, something you cared about… maybe I’d feel more like I belonged in your world.”

His face shifted. Slowly. Like a wave gathering itself before crashing.

You swallowed. “But I couldn’t do it. Not to Omar.”

Something unreadable passed behind his eyes.

“...Are you telling me,” he said carefully, “that you were willing to sacrifice your own sanity to feed me something I could’ve ordered from a Michelin-starred restaurant… but not willing to harm a single dramatic sea bug because he blinked at you?”

You looked away. “He blinked with feeling.”

There was a long silence. Then: “I don’t know whether to kiss you or exile you.”

“You could try both.”

Rafayel stepped in close again. The sunlight caught the gold of his eyelashes. “I’d die on a battlefield for you, but a lobster gets your loyalty?”

You tried not to smile. “He had a name, Raf.”

He groaned. “I’m jealous of a lobster.”

You leaned into his chest. “You should be. He’s mysterious. Stoic. Dangerously well-armed.”

Rafayel let out a long, theatrical sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he murmured, “but… I also hate cooking.”

You blinked. “You what?”

“I hate it. I hate heat. I hate measurements. I hate the way turmeric stains my cuticles. I once tried to cook for you, burnt my thumb on the skillet, and immediately painted the pain.”

You stared. He nodded solemnly. “It sold for nine thousand.”

You choked on a laugh. He kissed your temple.

“I’ll order sushi,” he whispered, lips brushing your skin. “It’s what civilization invented delivery for. People like us weren’t made for stoves. We were made for art. For emotion. For love. And for not setting the house on fire.”

“And Omar?”

Rafayel tilted his head toward the tank. “Will be invited to the wedding.”

He paused, watching Omar paddle in lazy circles.

“…But if he ever makes you cry again—” his voice dropped to a murmur, half-affection, half-threat, “—he’s the appetizer.”

🥞Pancakes: Physics & Other Casualties

You woke up too early for no reason. The sun hadn't fully committed to the sky yet, and Xavier was still asleep — somewhere beneath tangled blankets, breathing slow and soundless like only men with nothing left to prove do.

But you had energy. Too much of it. And a craving for pancakes.

You weren’t good at pancakes. Not exactly bad, either — just… experimental. Abstract. Four pancakes already clung to the kitchen ceiling like edible crime evidence, casualties of your first half hour. You had stopped panicking about the first one somewhere around the third. They weren’t hurting anyone. Probably.

The kitchen smelled like butter and mild fear. A playlist pulsed through your earbuds — something upbeat, guilty-pleasure catchy. You danced in place, hips swaying lazily, wearing only Xavier’s black athletic shorts (which barely clung to your waist) and a faded sports bra. Your hair was a mess. Your feet were bare. The floor was suspiciously sticky near the sink, and you were too far gone to care.

You adjusted your grip on the pan, focused like a woman on a mission, and flipped another pancake — up, smooth, controlled.

And caught it with your mouth.

A perfect arc. A clean drop. A hot, fluffy disc of golden triumph right between your teeth.

Your arms shot into the air, victorious. You wiggled. Spun. Posed like a champion gymnast sticking her final landing.

“YES!” you shouted around pancake.

Then you got cocky.

Still chewing, high on success and maple-scented hubris, you turned to the stove, picked up the frying pan again — and this time, tried to flip the whole pan. Into the air. For fun.

You wanted drama. Flair. Pancake-fueled glory.

What you got was: velocity + physics + betrayal.

The handle slipped from your fingers mid-arc. The pan flipped once, bounced off the edge of the stove, and landed squarely in the mixing bowl of batter you’d set just a little too close. The bowl spun. The counter caught a third of it. Your shirt caught another. The rest hit the floor in one majestic, cold, thick slap.

It was everywhere. Your feet. The cupboard. Your calves. The cat bowl. Possibly the wall. You blinked, slowly, looking down at yourself like someone in a war movie who hadn’t realized they’d been shot yet.

And then—

A breath behind you. You turned.

And there he was. Xavier.

Leaning against the doorway. Hoodie unzipped. Sweatpants low on his hips. Hair tousled, bare chest rising and falling in slow, stunned quiet.

He took in the scene. Ceiling pancakes. The lake of batter spreading across the tile. You, panting, pink-cheeked, wearing his shorts and speckled in something vaguely egg-based.

And — of course — the frying pan, upside down, handle sticking out of the mixing bowl like a flag of surrender.

You yanked out one earbud, breath catching. “You weren’t supposed to be awake yet.”

“I was,” he said quietly, eyes still moving — from your flour-dusted knees to your mouth. “Just listening.”

You blinked. “To the music?”

“To the part where you said ‘YES’ with a pancake in your mouth.”

You paused. Laughed. Bit your lip, embarrassed. “It was impressive.”

“It was.”

He didn’t move. Just… watched. You could never tell if Xavier was judging or processing. His expression didn’t give things away. But his eyes did. Bright and bottomless, pale as ice and just as dangerous when focused — and they were very, very focused now.

You tried to brush a bit of batter off your thigh. It smeared. Worse.

He inhaled through his nose, slow. “Is that my shorts?”

“No.” You lied instantly. “Yes.”

You felt warm all over. Sticky, sure — but also warm. The kind of heat that crept under your skin the longer he looked at you like that.

“I was going to bring you pancakes.”

“I see that.”

“They were gonna be good.”

“I believe you.”

His voice was calm, as always. But his gaze drifted lower — down your torso, your stomach, to the place where batter clung to your thighs like messy fingerprints. He blinked once. Slowly. Like he was storing you. Like he was learning you all over again in this ruined, ridiculous state.

And then… he moved. Not fast. Never fast.

Xavier walked toward you like inevitability — quiet feet on tile, breath barely audible, but his body all presence. You backed up without meaning to, hip nudging the edge of the counter, hands flexing at your sides. His fingers brushed your chin first. Lifted. Tilted. He studied you like he was reading your pulse through the shape of your mouth.

“You made a mess,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “That’s what mops are for.”

His thumb dragged along your lower lip. Batter. Butter. You.

“I meant this,” he said — and cupped your thigh, palm flat, streaking upward through the sticky warmth that clung to your skin. “You're dripping.”

The breath caught in your chest. He didn’t stop. Didn’t ask.

Xavier slid his hand higher, the glide of his fingers patient, unshaking, as he trailed a line through the batter and up — up, under the waistband of his shorts still hanging loose on your hips. He looked down as he did it. Watched his own hand disappear, like he wanted to understand your reactions in real time.

He brushed against you once. Deliberate. Barely pressure. You gasped.

His gaze snapped up.

Then he kissed you. Not sweet. Not soft. But steady — lips parted, tongue tasting everything you’d ruined. He didn’t devour. He took. Like a man carefully disassembling a weapon he didn’t want to break. His hand stayed pressed between your legs, just resting, while his other came to your neck — not choking, but claiming. Holding you still. Making you feel it everywhere.

“You’re warm here,” he said against your mouth, thumb stroking slow circles at the hinge of your jaw. “Wet. Sweet.”

You whimpered.

“Sticky.” He kissed your cheek. Your throat. Bit your collarbone. “Ruined.”

You barely had time to blink before he picked you up — just lifted, arms under your thighs, your back pressed to his chest. Effortless. Inevitable. Your hands clutched his forearms, nails dragging through soft cotton and into skin.

He didn’t speak again until the bathroom door clicked behind you. Then—

“I’m going to clean you.”

Not a suggestion. Not a tease. A promise.

He set you on the counter. Warm wood beneath your bare skin. He turned on the shower. Steam bloomed in the air — sharp and clean and him. The sound of water filled the room like rising tension.

Then he turned back. You reached for him — but he stilled your hands.

“Let me,” he said. “Don’t move.”

His hands were methodical. Almost reverent.

He pulled off your sports bra slowly, brushing every inch of your ribs with his knuckles. Kissed the space between your breasts like he needed to taste your heartbeat. The shorts followed — peeled down with both hands, batter clinging like reluctant gravity. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t grin.

He studied.

You were a mess. But to him — you never looked more sacred.

Xavier guided you under the water. Hot. Steady. His hands followed, dragging soap over your shoulders, your breasts, the dip of your waist — not rough, but firm. He washed you like ritual, like cleansing a blade before use.

And then his fingers slid between your legs again — slick now with water and shower gel, moving slowly, teasing your entrance in soft, circling pressure. You leaned into his chest, barely breathing.

He kissed your temple. “Relax.”

You tried. You failed — when he pushed a finger inside you. Then another.

His free hand cupped your breast, thumb stroking your nipple as he fucked you with slow, exquisite rhythm. No rush. Just purpose. Just Xavier. You sobbed once — quiet, overwhelmed — and he held you steady, nose brushing your cheek.

“You’re close,” he whispered. Not asked. Stated.

You nodded. Couldn’t speak. He kissed you — deeper, this time — and curled his fingers just right.

You shattered.

He caught you, of course. Cleaned you again. Kissed the top of your head, your hipbone, the inside of your knee.

And when he slid inside you after, slow and stretching, thick and perfect, it wasn’t out of hunger.

It was worship…

You came back into the kitchen wearing one of his long-sleeved tees and a pair of clean leggings — damp hair in a loose bun, skin flushed from the shower, limbs still humming from how he’d touched you. Kissed you. Fucked you.

The kitchen, somehow, was spotless.

The puddles of batter were gone. The ruined bowl had vanished. Even the ceiling looked suspiciously cleaner — except for one very visible pancake, clinging for dear life just above the stove like a martyr to your enthusiasm.

Xavier was at the counter, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, a fresh mixing bowl in front of him. His movements were calm, measured — flour, eggs, a whisper of salt. The cat sat near his feet, round as a melon, looking both satisfied and ashamed. You arched a brow.

“He helped?” you asked.

Xavier didn’t look up. “He tried. Then ate half the batter and went into some sort of existential spiral.”

You looked down at the creature. Its belly shifted slightly with every breath. It made a faint, gurgling noise.

“You’re gonna regret that, buddy.”

The cat blinked once, as if to say: I already do.

Xavier cracked another egg with single-handed ease. You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the long lines of his back move beneath soft cotton. Watching his mind in motion. There was something unbearably tender about how focused he became in small things — your things. How the world narrowed down to a bowl, a pan, and a promise.

“You didn’t have to clean everything,” you said gently.

“I know,” he replied, not missing a beat. “But you made a mess.”

You snorted. “You loved it.”

“I did.” He turned then, just enough to meet your eyes — and the corner of his mouth tilted. “I do.”

Heat crept up your spine. You stepped closer. The stove was warm, a fresh pan already heating, butter melting into golden puddles along the surface. He dipped a ladle into the new batter and poured it slow and steady, hands sure, movements silent.

The moment lingered. The smell, the steam, the soft crackle of potential.

You leaned in beside him.

“Do you want me to try flipping it?”

“No,” he said flatly.

You grinned. “Afraid I’ll outdo you?”

“I’ve seen your technique.”

You bumped your shoulder against his. “You liked my technique.”

“Your technique almost destroyed the cat bowl.”

“That was a creative choice.”

He slid a spatula under the pancake — smooth, practiced — and turned it in a perfect arc.

You made an approving noise. “See? You’re showing off.”

He glanced at you sideways. “Someone has to impress the cat.”

It was then — as if summoned by memory or dramatic timing — that the pancake on the ceiling finally gave up.

It dropped. Straight down. Landed with a soft, anticlimactic plop right in front of the stove.

The cat groaned audibly, a single long note of betrayal and digestive despair.

You covered your mouth, shoulders shaking. “He can’t… he can’t possibly…”

“No,” Xavier said, deadpan. “He’s reached the limit of his mortality.”

You watched as the cat sniffed the fallen pancake, whimpered, and slowly waddled out of the kitchen like a man who’d seen too much.

Then, finally, softly — like he couldn’t quite believe it: “…Did you actually catch one in your mouth?”

You stood a little straighter. Chin up. “Yes.”

His jaw shifted — not a smile, not quite — and his eyes sharpened.

“…Do it again.”

🍗“Operation: Wing It”

“You won’t even make it past the marinade,” Caleb said.

You didn’t look at him when you dropped the chili flakes into the basket — just a little harder than necessary.

“I’m literally standing in front of a wall of sauces,” you muttered. “I think I’ve made it just fine.”

“You picked up sesame oil to make buffalo wings.”

You froze. Looked down. Yep. Sesame oil.

“...It's fusion,” you said defensively, and grabbed a bottle of hot sauce to cover the error.

Caleb made a low, amused noise in his throat — the kind that wrapped around your spine like silk and sandpaper.

You hated him.

Not really.

But in that moment? Absolutely.

He was leaning against the side of the shopping cart like he’d been born in a recruitment poster. Dark jacket open, arms crossed over his chest, that stupid military-issue smirk on his face. Skyheavan’s standard-issue glow made his skin look warmer than usual. More golden. More dangerous.

You tossed a bottle of vinegar into the cart without looking. It hit the bottom with a clang.

He flinched. “Careful. You almost declared war on the condiments.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you snapped. “Are your elite commando instincts triggered by aggressive grocery shopping?”

“Just saying, if you treat the chicken like that, I’ll have to call for backup.”

You whirled around to face him, finger pointed. “I can cook.”

“You can make cereal.”

“I can make eggs!”

“Which you set on fire.”

“One time—!”

He stepped closer. His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth — just for a fraction of a second — then back to your eyes.

That same flicker again. The one you’d seen a hundred times. Like he might kiss you. Like you might let him. But neither of you ever did.

Too many reasons. Too much history. Too many what-ifs.

“Tell you what,” he said, voice low, almost amused. “You make wings tonight. I’ll taste them. If they’re edible, I’ll say thank you. If they’re better than mine…”

His smile turned sharp. “…I’ll let you pick your prize. And I won’t stop you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And if they’re not?”

He leaned in — not quite touching, but close enough that you felt the heat of him through your shirt.

“If they’re not, you wear my shirt while I show you how it’s really done.”

Your stomach dropped. Your brain screamed something in Morse code.

You said, with all the dignity you could muster, “Fine.”

“Great.”

Then he leaned down and picked up your bottle of sesame oil.

“And I’m taking this,” he said. “Because even fusion has limits.”

You stormed into his kitchen like a woman possessed. Which, to be fair, you were.

By pride. By spite. By the unholy need to prove that just because you’d once burned eggs didn’t mean you couldn’t conquer poultry.

The countertops were unnervingly spotless. The knives hung in perfect alignment. The spice rack looked alphabetized by military rank.

You glared at the nearest drawer and yanked it open.

Soy sauce, vodka, pomegranate molasses, some kind of unmarked flask, another unmarked flask, two napalm-grade hot sauces and a tin labeled simply: “DO NOT”.

You closed the drawer. You opened another. Hot honey, fig jam, bourbon.

You opened a third. Ketchup. Tequila. Grenadine.

“What the hell — why is the alcohol stored with the condiments?!” you hissed.

“Because they get along,” Caleb said, casually leaning in the doorway, arms folded.

You turned so fast your braid hit your cheek. “Get. Out.”

He raised one brow. “Just offering guidance.”

“You’re smirking.”

“I always smirk when people handle raw meat like it’s a loaded weapon.”

You grabbed a towel, threw it over the bowl of chicken, and marched toward him.

He didn’t move. Not at first. Then you planted your hands flat against his chest — and pushed.

Hard.

Caleb slid backward across the smooth floor in his socks, both feet together, expression going from amused to incredulous to resigned defeat in two seconds flat.

“You are not allowed in here until I win.”

“You mean ‘if.’”

“WHEN.”

You shoved him again just for good measure, slammed the door behind him, and locked it. (Okay, you shoved a wooden spoon through the cabinet handles. Same thing.)

Silence.

You exhaled. Turned. And stared at the raw chicken like it had personally insulted your ancestry.

The marinade was where you’d shine. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.

You opened another drawer. Dark green bottle. Handwritten label. Spanish text. No clue.

You tilted it. Sniffed. Complex. Herbal. Definitely alcoholic. Like absinthe with a sexier résumé.

You dipped a finger. Touched your tongue. Oh. Oh, that was good. Sharp, rich, mysterious. Like something Caleb would drink while brooding in a thunderstorm.

You’d seen someone marinate wings in beer once. This felt like the same vibe.

You shrugged. “Close enough.”

You poured generously. The chicken hissed like it was judging you. You hissed back.

Somewhere behind you, the spoon wedged in the handles creaked.

You whirled. “Don’t you dare!”

Silence. You turned back to your sauce, defiant.

You were not a soldier. You were not a chef. But you were going to make these wings your battlefield.

By some small miracle — or divine act of petty vengeance — you won.

They came out golden. Glorious.

The kind of golden that made you gasp when you opened the oven, momentarily forgetting the smudge of sauce on your cheek and the streak of oil in your hair. The kind of golden that shimmered, with just the right crisp at the edges and a halo of chili flake scattered like divine confetti.

You stared. You may have whispered holy shit. You may have also done a small, smug dance in your socks.

Then you plated them. Carefully. Triumphantly.

And carried the tray out like a warrior returning from the front lines with the head of the beast still steaming on a platter.

Caleb was already on the couch, legs stretched, looking for all the world like a man who’d never been ejected from his own kitchen.

You set the tray down in front of him with all the grace of a crowned queen.

He eyed it. Then you. Then the wings again.

“…Did you order takeout and hide the packaging?”

Your palm hit his shoulder with a satisfying thwap. He didn’t even flinch.

He leaned in anyway. Picked up a wing. Sniffed it. Turned it over once between his fingers like he was inspecting foreign tech.

Then — slowly, deliberately — bit down. Not a dainty bite. He stripped the wing like it owed him intel. Left nothing but clean bone and a line of sauce glossing his bottom lip.

You blinked. Maybe twice.

He chewed. Swallowed. Raised a brow.

“...They’re edible.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s it?”

A second wing disappeared. Then a third.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said around the fourth, “but I think I might be in danger.”

You blinked again. “From what?”

He looked you dead in the eye. “Falling in love.”

Your face went up in flames. You laughed — too sharp, too loud — and smacked his leg. But you didn’t stop smiling.

Neither did he.

Somehow, between the sarcasm and the second bowl, you ended up shoulder to shoulder, knees brushing. Hands sticky. Bowl empty.

You didn’t talk much. Didn’t need to. But when he licked sauce off his thumb and looked at you like you were next —

You forgot every reason you hadn’t kissed him yet.

His eyes lingered on your lips longer this time. No flicker, no teasing half-glance. Just heat. Quiet, anchored heat that pinned you in place like a pressure point no one else had ever found.

“You win,” Caleb said at last, voice barely above a murmur, rough around the edges like it had been dragged across gravel. “The wings. The bet.”

You exhaled, shallow. “That hard to admit?”

His mouth curved, but not like he was amused. More like it hurt a little. “Harder than getting shot, honestly.”

You huffed something like a laugh, but it didn’t go anywhere. Not when he was looking at you like that. Like hunger. Like want. Like he'd waited long enough.

“Go on,” he added, that low timbre settling over your skin. “Pick your prize.”

It should’ve been a joke. Should’ve been easy. But your body had other plans.

The ache hit first — low and warm, coiling under your skin. It wasn’t a rush. It was a pull. A slow, molten drag that made it suddenly impossible to sit still.

You shifted, crossing your legs like it would help. It didn’t. Your underwear clung where it shouldn’t. The throb between your thighs was steady now. Treacherous.

You didn’t look at him. “I’ll think about it.”

His gaze didn’t drop. Didn’t move. But you felt it. All of it. Like touch. Like heat.

Silence.

Then, you muttered, mostly to yourself, “Is it… hot in here?”

Caleb’s brow lifted the tiniest bit. “I was wondering when you’d say that.”

He stood. Slowly. The way a soldier moves when every muscle is trained not to betray urgency.

And that was when you saw it. The dark line down the center of his shirt. The way the fabric clung to him. And lower — the unmistakable strain in his jeans.

You shouldn’t have looked. But you did.

He stepped toward the window, cracked it open. The breeze kissed the back of your neck. Still not enough.

When he turned around, you were already watching him. He stilled.

For a moment, nothing moved. Not you. Not him. Just air, trembling between two people who’d been circling this for months.

You swallowed. “You said I could choose my prize.”

He nodded once. You tilted your head. Let your voice drop. “And you wouldn’t stop me.”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. “I wouldn’t.”

You stood. Carefully. Your body felt foreign. Heavy and too aware of itself. Of him. Of the scent still lingering on your fingers. Garlic and heat and him.

You passed him slow — maybe too slow — the back of your fingers grazing his stomach as you did. A light touch. Barely anything. But he flinched. Like you’d struck a nerve buried too deep to name.

And then—

His hand shot out. Grabbed your wrist. You gasped. Stopped.

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you. Hard. Quiet. Like something had broken loose in him and he didn’t trust it.

Neither did you.

Not the look. Not the breath you just dragged in. Not the heat that rolled through your body like it had a will of its own.

You both stood there. Still.

Then—

His hand slid down. Fingers laced with yours. And he pulled.

You stumbled. Into him. Against him. Your chest hit his, and that’s when you felt it — the pressure. The hard, unmistakable proof that he wanted this just as badly. Maybe more.

That was the moment. The line. And you stepped over it.

You surged up and kissed him. Open. Desperate. Not gentle. Not slow. Teeth. Tongue. Breathless collisions.

He growled. Hands on your hips, your ass, your spine — gripping, anchoring, consuming. You broke the kiss only to gasp, “Bedroom.”

He didn’t ask. Didn’t tease. Just moved.

Your back hit the wall once on the way there — hands groping, mouths colliding, your braid being yanked just enough to make you whimper. Then the bed.

And then—

Clothes everywhere.

He was on top of you, between your legs, shirtless, flushed, panting like a man starving in a field of food he thought he’d never taste again. You pulled his pants open with shaking hands. He ripped your shirt at the seam.

Nothing delicate. Everything necessary.

When your skin met, it was violence. Beautiful. Raw. Atomic.

His mouth crashed against your breast. You arched into it, crying out, the sound catching in your throat as his hand found its way between your legs — fingers slicking through you like he knew you.

“You’re soaked,” he rasped. “Fucking drenched—”

“Don’t — don’t say it,” you gasped, but your hips bucked against his hand.

“Why?” he murmured against your nipple, tongue circling. “Scared it’s true?”

You clawed at his shoulders. “I don’t know what’s happening—”

“Yes you do.” His voice went rough. “You know exactly what’s happening.”

And he was right. You did. You wanted. And for the first time in years, you weren’t afraid of how badly.

He slid two fingers inside you, slow but deep, and your entire body snapped — taut and trembling, mouth open, no air left to swallow.

You came. Just like that. And he hadn’t even started.

His mouth found yours again. He kissed you through it — through your moans, through the tremors, through the shock of it all. Then he grabbed your leg, pulled it up over his hip, and lined himself up.

He looked at you once. Just once. Eyes dark. Wild. Asking.

You nodded. And he pushed in.

You screamed. Not from pain. Not even from stretch. From the depth. The snap. The way it felt like your body had been waiting for this exact shape, this weight, this claim and had finally found it.

“Jesus fuck,” he growled, pressing his forehead to yours. “I—”

You didn’t let him finish. You kissed him again. Bit his bottom lip. Rocked your hips to meet his thrust.

And then it was chaos. Sweat. Skin. Fingers. Scratches.

He flipped you. Dragged you to the edge. Held your hips and slammed into you so hard the headboard knocked the wall. You met every thrust. Matched every groan.

“Harder,” you gasped. “More — don’t you fucking stop—”

“Say it,” he panted. “Say you want it. Say you want me.”

“I do,” you cried, tears on your cheeks now. “I always — fuck — always have—”

His hand slid up your spine. His mouth found your shoulder. His hips destroyed you.

You came again — helpless, shaking, wrecked. He wasn’t far behind. When he spilled inside you with a ragged, hoarse cry of your name, it was like the room exhaled.

He collapsed on top of you. You both lay there. Sticky. Shaking. Stunned.

Your thighs trembled beneath the weight of him, and his breath scraped out against your neck like he was still chasing oxygen.

You thought that was it. That you’d burned it all out in one glorious, unrepeatable burst.

Until—

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

You felt it before he said a word. Still hard. Still there.

He lifted his head. Just enough to look down at you. Brows drawn, cheeks flushed, mouth slack with something like disbelief.

“Are you—?” you whispered.

He nodded once. Swallowed. “It’s not… it’s not going down.”

You blinked. A beat. Then—

You snorted. Just once. Couldn’t help it. Caleb glared, half amused, half mortified. “I’m serious.”

“I can feel that,” you said, breathless. “Trust me, it’s the one part of you I have no trouble reading right now.”

He dropped his forehead to your collarbone with a low groan. “This is… not normal.”

“Not… unwelcome,” you offered, lifting an eyebrow as your hand slid down his side. “Unless you’re saying you’re done.”

He froze. You tilted your head. Smirked.

“I mean,” you purred, “if it’s too much for you…”

Caleb growled — low and wrecked — and tried to shift off of you. But you didn’t let him. Your legs wrapped tighter. Your hips tilted up. And his cock — still painfully, impossibly hard — slid just a little deeper.

He sucked in a sharp breath. You both did. Then your fingers curled around the back of his neck.

“No,” you whispered. “Stay.”

And he did.

The next round wasn’t gentle. It was raw. Sloppy. Almost delirious. You were slick and open and aching for it — for him — and he moved like he didn’t care if it broke him.

He fucked you like it was his job. Like penance. Like prayer. And you took it. Gave back. Met every thrust with want and teeth and fingernails.

You came again. He didn’t stop.

He flipped you. Took you from behind, your cheek pressed to the mattress, ass in the air, his hand buried in your hair like a handle he couldn’t afford to let go of. You screamed into the sheets when he hit that spot — over and over — and your legs gave out under you.

You came again. He didn’t stop.

The third time, you were on top. Riding him hard, reckless, nails dragging down his chest. His hands were everywhere. His mouth bruising yours. It felt endless. It was endless.

The heat never faded. The pulse never slowed. And neither did he.

You came again.

The fourth time… you broke him.

His hands fell away. His mouth went slack. His body shuddered violently beneath you as he spilled into you once more, gasping your name like a confession.

He didn’t move after that. Couldn’t. You collapsed forward, your chest to his, your head to his shoulder, your thighs still trembling, your whole body pulsing around the stretch of him inside you.

You didn’t pull off. Didn’t want to. Your breath slowed. So did his.

You lay there, tangled together, limbs shaking, muscles useless, heat still simmering in the air like something sacred. Your hips twitched once more — involuntary. He groaned. But neither of you spoke.

You fell asleep just like that. Still connected. Still inside. Still everything.

Morning hurt.

In the good way. The kind that made you wince when you stretched and immediately smile through it. Muscles sore in places you hadn’t used since… ever. Your thighs protested. Your hips whimpered. Even your toes ached, and you were pretty sure at some point during round three you’d cramped your calf and moaned through it anyway.

The sound of the bathroom door made you stir. Caleb. Out of the shower, towel around his hips, hair damp, beard still glistening with steam. He walked like a man who’d been hit by a truck. You knew the feeling.

You didn’t move until he was gone from view. Then you groaned, rolled out of bed like every joint was filing a complaint, and stumbled into the shower just long enough to rinse off the worst of the evidence. Your thighs tried to fold under you again. You cursed him fondly under your breath.

You found one of his T-shirts — dark gray, soft, oversized, familiar — and pulled it over your head like you had every right to it now. Because you did.

The smell of coffee led you to the kitchen. Two mugs waited on the island.

So did Caleb.

He stood barefoot in front of the counter, head tilted, holding something in one hand. A bottle. Small. Dark. Unlabeled — no, wait. Not unlabeled. The label was peeling. Handwritten. And very, very familiar.

Your stomach flipped.

He didn’t turn around when he spoke. Just held it up like it was evidence.

“Tell me,” he said slowly, “you did not use this for the wings.”

You didn’t answer. The silence spoke for you.

He turned then. Slowly. Face unreadable. Bottle still in hand like it might explode.

“Oh my god,” he said. “You did.”

You lifted one shoulder, sheepish. “I thought it was... herb oil? It smelled good. Kinda spicy.”

He stared. Then he laughed. Not a chuckle. Not a smirk.

A full-bodied, stomach-clutching, almost-hurts-to-breathe kind of laugh that shook his shoulders and made him bend halfway over the counter.

“I told them I wasn’t gonna drink it,” he wheezed. “I told them — I said — ‘That stuff’s basically legal Viagra brewed in someone's grandma's basement,’ and you — oh my god — you cooked with it!”

You stared. “Wait, what?!”

He held the bottle like it had personally ruined his evening. “It’s called Mamajuana. Dominican thing. Rum. Red wine. Tree bark. Herbs. Aphrodisiac-level strong. My unit called it hellfire in a bottle. A guy once took two shots and tried to hump a satellite dish.”

You nearly fell off your stool.

Your face dropped into your hands with a groan. “You are not serious.”

“Oh, I am,” he said, grinning so hard it almost cracked his face in half. “And you marinated chicken in it.”

“I didn’t know!” you wailed, voice muffled. “I thought it was fancy olive oil!”

Caleb took a step forward, grin widening, voice dropping.

“Pip-squeak,” he murmured, “I came four times last night and still had a hard-on strong enough to pass for a concealed weapon. I thought I was dying.”

You made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a squeak and shook your head, still hiding behind your fingers.

Then — a shift. The humor lingered in his smile, but his gaze softened.

He stepped closer. Set the bottle down.

His hands found your hips, thumbs brushing bare skin where the T-shirt had ridden up. He leaned in, kissed your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. Then your neck. Slower this time.

No rush.

Just the warm, quiet gravity of someone who knew you now. Not just your body. But your rhythm. Your fear. Your fight.

His lips hovered at your jaw.

“I don’t regret a second of it,” he said, voice low and real.

You looked up at him.

“Even if it wasn’t all... us?” you whispered.

His smile faded to something softer.

“It was us,” he said. “Every second of it. We just finally stopped holding back.”

You breathed in — deep, full, present. He kissed you again. Longer this time. Deeper. Less fire. More embers.

And when his hands slid beneath the hem of the shirt — yours now — and you sighed into his mouth, the ache that answered wasn’t urgent.

It was wanting.

Wanting more mornings. Wanting this. Wanting him.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, “So. That still counted as winning, right?”

Caleb sighed like a man clinging to the last shreds of control. “You’re banned from my kitchen. Permanently.”

You smiled, slow and satisfied. “Guess I’ll have to keep making a mess somewhere else.”

His groan was low, helpless. And yeah. He was already planning the cleanup.

🦆 Fire in a Wreck During a Flood

It started, as most bad decisions do, with good intentions and a duck.

You had this vision — soft lighting, one perfect dish, a glass of red wine, maybe some music playing in the background. A date night he didn’t see coming. You’d even bought a packet of helium balloons from a tiny shop two zones over, planning to float them by the window while dinner simmered.

You never got to the balloons.

The first duck died in the oven around 5:40 PM — shriveled, blackened, and glistening like volcanic glass. You’d followed half a dozen different recipes, all of which disagreed, and all of which demanded equipment Sylus would never allow into his cathedral of a kitchen. In desperation, you tried to dispose of it quickly. The garbage bin felt too disrespectful. The sink seemed... decisive.

You honestly thought there was a disposal switch. There was not.

You shoved the remains down the drain with a wooden spoon and a whispered apology, until the bird jammed in the curve of the pipe with a thud and the faucet made a low, wet, glugging growl.

Water stopped draining. Then it started backing up. Then it smelled like duck murder.

You’d tried to fix it yourself — unscrewed something under the sink with righteous fury and zero plumbing knowledge, planning to just shake out the remains like a normal person with a death wish.

But you picked the wrong pipe.

A rush of foul water hissed up, something metallic clattered loose, and you ended up holding a piece of the sink’s undercarriage like a war trophy.

You didn’t know what it was called. But it looked important.

You called the twins.

By the time Kieran and Luke arrived, you were ankle-deep in soapy panic, drying your hands on a decorative towel that now reeked of soy sauce and grief.

Kieran didn’t laugh — not out loud. He crouched beside the sink, yanked open the cabinet, and muttered, “You clogged a full industrial drain with a whole animal.”

“It was already dead,” you hissed.

Kieran shook his head, flashlight clenched between his teeth, legs braced awkwardly around the open cupboard while his gloved hands vanished into the under-sink abyss.

Luke had wandered off to inspect the rest of the kitchen, humming faintly. You’d made the mistake of leaving the duck's replacement marinating on the counter.

"Is this attempt two?" he asked, peering into the tray. “Bold.”

“I can still save this,” you said, mostly to yourself.

“Sure,” he said. “You got another fire extinguisher?”

Then he noticed the helium balloons — still in their unopened package — and lit up like he’d just spotted a new toy in the sandbox.

“Cute. You gonna blow these up?”

“Later,” you said, swiping a streak of marinade from your cheek. “Romance.”

Ten minutes later, Luke was inflating one of the balloons — not for romance — and narrating in falsetto:

“Quack-quack, darling. Look at me, I’m your third duck. I’m full of air and disappointment.”

You rolled your eyes.

He let go of the balloon. It zoomed across the kitchen with a high-pitched pppbbbt-tap! and smacked the refrigerator. Then he found another. Filled it. This time, sucked in the helium.

“Yoooourrrr hiiiighnessssss,” he squeaked, hopping around behind you. “The kitchen begs for mercy!”

You were up on the bottom shelf of the tall cabinet by then — perched on tiptoes, trying to reach a bottle you knew Sylus kept up there. You weren’t even sure what it was, but it had a gold seal, and Kieran had told you it would “caramelize skin like a dream.”

The cabinet creaked. Your toes curled over the edge of a jar of lentils. Your hand closed around cold glass just as —

POP.

Behind you. Loud. Sudden.

A burst of helium balloon, punctured by Luke's metal straw.

You shrieked. Flinched. And fell.

Flour rained down like snow. A box of penne exploded. The lentils hit the tile like a thousand tiny bullets. Except the tile was underwater — and everything sank, scattered, and swirled into what could only be described as soup. You hit the ground tangled in a tablecloth that had been drying over a chair, splashing like a capsized ship in a sea of your own making. A saucepan bounced once, then rolled.

Luke’s voice piped up from somewhere behind the island: “…she flies through the air, the Boss’s beautiful wife, wings of glory, pasta in her wake…”

“I am not his wife yet!” you howled.

“Nope,” Kieran noted. “But keep this up and you’ll be the reason Boss stays single forever.”

You were covered head to toe in culinary wreckage. Rice in your bra. Penne stuck to your thigh. A tablecloth twisted around your waist like a toga of shame. And standing just past the island, smug as a soap opera villain, was Luke — the one who’d turned a leaky sink into an ecological disaster.

He was grinning. Still holding a half-deflated pink heart balloon.

You locked eyes. He blinked. You lunged.

“NOPE—!” he yelped, and bolted, scattering flour behind him like smoke from a cartoon getaway.

You grabbed the nearest saucepan and charged.

“YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!”

“I think it’s historic!” Luke squeaked, helium still warping his voice into chipmunk-on-caffeine levels of absurdity.

“You almost killed me!”

“You bounced!” he chirped, skittering backward as you raised the saucepan like a medieval war hammer.

“You popped the balloon on purpose!”

“Science demanded answers!”

“You turned the kitchen into Venice!”

“You’re the one who shoved a duck down the sink!” he squealed, practically wheezing now.

“IT WAS A DELICATE OPERATION—”

“IT WAS A BIOHAZARD,” he shrieked, voice cracking into full cartoon chaos.

You chased him around the kitchen island — water sloshing underfoot, socks soaked, jeans heavy and clinging to your calves. You slipped once in the flood, caught yourself on the counter with a growl, then hurled a wooden spoon like a warning shot. It pinged off his shoulder with a sharp thwack — just enough to make him yelp and speed up.

He skidded around the corner of the prep table, laughing in pure helium-high chaos. “You’re so mad! You’re so cute when you’re mad!”

“I’m gonna crown you with this pan like it’s Excalibur, you little plague.”

He ducked behind a chair.

You faked right, doubled back, and body-checked him as he turned — sending you both crashing into the flood-slicked floor in a splatter of lentils and shame. Water went everywhere. You landed half on top of him, half in a puddle, soaked to the waist and swearing through your teeth as your knee skidded into a floating onion peel.

He wheezed dramatically. “Mercy! I’m just the court jester!”

You raised the saucepan.

“No,” you said sweetly. “You’re the sacrificial goose.”

And with all the dignity of a woman pushed to her limit, you jammed the pot onto his head.

Hard.

BONK.

He squawked inside the metal. “Quack—!”

You gave the edges an extra push, crimping it with both palms like a pastry crust until it wedged on tight.

He flailed. “I CAN’T SEE!”

“You weren’t using your eyes anyway!”

“IT’S DARK IN HERE!”

“GOOD.”

Kieran, still under the sink, gagged on the swampy reek of the drain and muttered, “This is the most effective leadership I’ve seen all week.”

Luke staggered upright, tripped over a bag of dried beans, and stumbled headfirst into the pantry, still yelling “Quack-Quack!” like a demonic toddler trapped in a trash can.

You stood there panting, soaked, hair a mess, one sock gone. The marinade bowl had capsized, the countertop looked like a battlefield, and the floor sloshed with every breath. A spoon floated past like a tiny, defeated boat.

Kieran groaned from under the sink. “I’m disabling the line. If anything explodes, I was never here.”

“Go,” you grunted, waving Kieran off as you turned toward the duck. It was still sitting in its tray on the counter — damp, marinated, mildly accusatory. You grabbed it with all the solemnity of a general sending troops to war, shoved it into the oven, slammed the door, and muttered, “Redemption arc starts now.”

Luke let out a squeak from somewhere behind the pantry, the saucepan still echoing on his head like a helmet of shame. You didn’t even look this time — you just marched toward him, grabbed the sides of the pot, and wrenched it off with the fury of a woman betrayed by every possible element in her own kitchen.

“Put this under the sink,” you snapped, thrusting the pot into his arms. “Catch the fountain. And then scoop.”

“I am not a—” he started.

“—scoop,” you repeated, with full executioner energy.

He obeyed, waddling toward the sink with the pot held like a sacred relic, muttering under his breath in cartoonish despair. You reached for the once-white tablecloth — now steeped in soy, shame, and poor life choices — and dropped to your knees in the puddle. Not to clean. There was no cleaning this. Just to wring it out. One sockless foot sloshed audibly as you shifted. The tablecloth squelched between your hands like it was laughing at you. You wanted to cry. Or scream. Or crawl into the oven with the duck and call it a day.

Kieran, looking like a man who’d just won a duel with Poseidon, finally shut off the main. The next hour and a half passed in soggy penance — you and Luke taking turns scooping floodwater with pots, pans, and whatever wasn’t bolted down. Bit by bit, the tide receded, leaving behind a battlefield of soy trails, bloated pasta, and condiment carnage.

Kieran dragged in a barrel from the garden (“emergency pickling project,” he said, like that explained anything), and everything — soup, sludge, and the last of your dignity — got dumped there. You considered changing into the dress. A real one. With buttons. But one glance at the twins, the oven, and the duck now sizzling like it had ambitions — and you thought better of it. No way were you leaving the boys alone with poultry and fire. Your stomach growled in agreement.

Kieran side-eyed the sink with deep suspicion. “I think I fixed it,” he said, then pointed a cautious finger. “I’m turning the water back on. If this explodes, I’m telling the Boss it was divine intervention."

That’s when the duck started to… smell.

Not burning. Not yet. But that turning point — when fat starts to push too hard against heat, and the sugar in the glaze threatens to go bitter. The scent went from rich to ominous in seconds.

“Kieran!” you called. “Duck’s turning!”

His voice floated faintly from the back hallway: “WATER’S BACK ON!”

You barely glanced up, busy pulling the duck out of the oven with the reverence of a starving survivor discovering civilization. It glistened. It hissed. It smelled like victory. Your stomach responded with a growl loud enough to echo off the tile.

Behind you, Luke poured the last potful of murky disaster-water into the barrel with a theatrical sigh of relief.

You straightened, turned to Kieran — who was already shaking his boots dry in the hallway.

“Great,” you said, nodding at the swamp you all still technically lived in. “Now bring something to finish the job.”

A vague gesture at the floor. “Anything. Everything. Make it shine. I want to see my sins reflected in it.”

He gave you a dry salute, walked toward the nearest cabinet, and yanked it open like a man on a mission. Thirty seconds in, he straightened up with a glint in his eye and a bottle in his hand.

It was dark glass, sealed in gold, labeled in some faded print that was definitely not English.

“What is that?” you asked suspiciously.

Kieran grinned. “Back-cabinet treasure. Might be Boss’s old flambé stash.”

You narrowed your eyes. “We’re not lighting anything—”

"Chill. Science time," he said, thunking the bottle onto the counter and grabbing a plate.

You hovered as he drizzled a bit of the syrupy liquid onto the plate, struck a lighter, and—

FOOMPH.

A perfect, beautiful curl of flame.

You blinked. “…Okay, that’s — actually good.”

“Told you.”

You took the bottle. Lifted it over the duck. Poured — slowly, carefully — just a little.

The skin went golden. Sizzled. Glazed to glossy perfection.

You smiled. “Oh my god. It’s working — Kieran, it’s —”

At that exact moment — as if the chaos gods had been bored for a whole thirty seconds — Luke decided it was the perfect time to haul the sloshing barrel of filthy kitchen swamp water back into the garden.

He lifted it. He tilted it. He tipped it.

And the moment it lurched, so did Kieran — who lunged to help like some tragic grease-soaked hero. One foot hit a patch of duck-slick water, and the rest was gravity and shame. He crashed straight into the open cupboard under the sink, which took the betrayal personally and collapsed like a Victorian lady. The freshly "fixed" pipe let out a wet pop, and a new geyser of very enthusiastic water erupted with all the joy of plumbing vengeance.

Your eyebrows climbed to your hairline, and every fine hair on the back of your neck stood to attention. You watched in mute horror as the kitchen — once bravely salvaged — began to flood all over again, murky water rising with gleeful malice.

Luke yelped, pointing toward the stove.

You turned — just in time to see the duck, which had previously been golden and glorious, now engulfed in a column of flame tall enough to make the ceiling nervous.

You lunged forward.

The flambé bottle tipped with a mocking wobble, spilling straight into the swamp forming beneath your feet. The pan followed a heartbeat later, flipping end over end before bellyflopping into the puddle like it wanted to die dramatically.

The water caught fire.

You and Luke screamed in unison and scrambled onto the nearest countertops like startled gremlins avoiding divine punishment.

Kieran, ever the survivalist, dove into the open cabinet under the sink and slammed the door shut behind him like a soldier bracing for impact.

And just when it felt like it couldn’t possibly get worse — the fire alarm shrieked. Two seconds later, the ceiling sprinklers erupted, dousing everything in a cold, unforgiving cascade of water.

You didn’t scream. You groaned — a low, guttural, end-of-rope kind of sound.

“It’s water,” you whispered, eyes wide, voice cracking like a dying prayer. “It’s supposed to go out...”

From above, Luke peered down from the top of the kitchen cabinet, hair frizzed out like he’d licked a socket.

“…That might’ve been the exterior use blend,” he offered helpfully.

And then—

The front doors creaked open.

A gust of cooler air swept into the kitchen, briefly disturbing the rising steam, the smell of scorched poultry, and whatever part of your soul had already fled your body.

He appeared in the doorway like a punctuation mark at the end of the world.

Sylus.

Black coat half open. Shirt crisp. Expression unreadable. Rain still clung to the cuffs of his sleeves, like even the weather knew better than to interrupt him.

He stepped into what had once been his kitchen — a space once worthy of a museum of culinary art — and paused.

You didn’t breathe.

He took in:

The flames skimming across the floor like demons doing synchronized swimming in Hell's spa day.

The shattered flambé bottle oozing fire like it was auditioning for a disaster movie.

Luke, crouched on top of the cabinet like a gremlin, clutching the salad spinner like it might absolve him.

Kieran, inside the under-sink cupboard with the door pulled shut, as if drywall could shield him from divine judgment.

And you — perched on the countertop like a feral kitchen goddess mid-sacrifice, hair wild, one sock clinging to dignity, staring at him like you'd just burned down Versailles and wanted notes on your form.

He said absolutely nothing. He just stood there. Then, finally, Sylus inhaled.

“Kitten…” he said, with the exhausted breath of a man too tired to be angry and too furious not to speak. “Was this dinner... or did the Four Horsemen stop by for takeout?”

You swallowed. “I wanted to surprise you.”

He blinked once.

“I am very, very surprised.”

You tried to smile. It came out crooked. “It started off romantic.”

Sylus’s gaze dragged across the battlefield. “And then?”

“…There were developments.”

“I can see that.”

He stepped forward. Slowly. As if expecting the floor to betray him. It squelched.

You flinched. “Okay — don’t be mad—”

He raised a brow, expression blank. “Oh, I’m not mad. I’m just trying to calculate whether Linkon Crisis Council covers emotional trauma caused by fiancées attempting to recreate the Trojan War using poultry.”

“Technically,” you said, shrinking slightly, “only one duck was involved.”

He looked at you. Deadpan.

“Just one,” he repeated.

You nodded.

There was a pause. Just long enough to remember the first duck — the one you’d sent to an early, crispy grave. You nodded again, a touch too firmly this time, as if doing it faster might somehow salvage your dignity.

Then his eyes narrowed. “Where is it?”

“…Floating,” Luke offered helpfully. “Somewhere near the cabinet of lost hope.”

Sylus exhaled through his nose like a man deciding whether spontaneous combustion was a valid coping strategy.

Then he looked back at you. Steady. Quiet.

“You realize,” he said slowly, “I’m going to have to salt the kitchen. Like a cursed site. Maybe call a priest.”

“Noted.”

“And you,” he added, stepping close enough that you had to tilt your chin up, “are never cooking in here again.”

You tried to pout. “Even toast?”

He didn’t blink. “Especially toast.”

“So you’re not mad.”

“I’m livid,” he said calmly, lifting you off the counter like you weighed nothing. “But I’m not letting you walk barefoot through your own war crime.”

You gasped. “I’m fine!”

He raised a brow. “Kitten, remember that time we tracked an SSR-class Wanderer into a no-hunt zone, and you ended up covered in cave dust, ripped your sleeve scaling a comm tower, and dislocated your shoulder punching it in the optic?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

He nodded. “You looked more put-together then.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and carried you — wet, guilty, and still somehow grinning — straight out of the kitchen, past the still-sputtering pipe, tossing a sharp “Kieran, shut it down” over his shoulder like a grenade on a timer.

He carried you out through the garden door in silence. Past the scorched threshold, past the scent of smoked soy and betrayal.

For a second, you blinked against the sudden breeze, mind scrambling.

Wait. Was he... evicting you? Was this how it ended — dumped in the herb patch like a misbehaving housecat?

But before you could ask what in the horticultural hell was happening, he crossed the lawn with the grim purpose of a man about to hose down a crime scene.

And then — he set you down. Gently. In the grass. Like some tragic harvest offering.

“SYLUS!” you gasped, still clinging to his shirt.

He ignored you. Walked over to the side of the tool shed. Turned on the outdoor hose. Lifted the nozzle with terrifying precision —

And blasted you from ankle to scalp in a cold, high-pressure arc of righteous vengeance.

“GAHH—!”

You squealed, spinning in place like a soaked kitten who’d just been baptized in heresy. Your hair flopped into your eyes. Water ran down your back. You flailed. You slipped.

“Stop — stop it—!”

You tried to dodge. He followed. Calm. Efficient. Not even smiling.

“You wanted fire,” he said, voice maddeningly even. “This is balance.”

You lunged for the hose in protest, indignant and dripping. He dodged, of course. Effortlessly. With the reflexes of someone who clearly wrestled war criminals for fun. Then — just as you swore vengeance — he looped the hose around your waist once, then twice, and pulled.

You went stumbling straight into him with a wet thump, every nerve in your body shrieking indignation. He caught you like you were nothing at all. Warm. Steady. Unbothered.

Behind you, what was left of the kitchen flood trickled into the rose bushes. And, as your soaked shirt clung to his chest, it occurred to you that for the first time in hours…

…his house didn’t have a single drop of water left in it. Except, apparently, in the garden. And you.

“When I leave,” he murmured into your ear, breath warm and infuriating, “I clearly need to tie you up. For public safety.”

You were shaking now — not from rage, but from the cold. Your teeth chattered. Your fingers clenched in his shirt.

He paused. And just like that, the heat in him changed.

He dropped the hose. Silence.

Then — gentle. Quick. Fluid — he peeled his shirt off over his head, wrapped it around your shoulders, and lifted you back into his arms, this time with no protest, no force.

You curled into him instinctively.

He didn’t speak again until you passed through the back doors and he was carrying you upstairs. Not a word. Just the steady rhythm of his breath and your heartbeat thudding against his shoulder. You didn’t know if he was furious or resigned or about to call the national emergency hotline and declare a domestic code red.

Instead, he set you down in the hallway, dripping, barefoot, and blinking at the sudden warmth.

“Go change,” he said simply, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek. “Before I hand you over to the fire department as evidence.”

He turned, disappeared down the stairs.

You changed quickly — dry clothes, clean skin, wrapped in one of his soft cotton pullovers that still smelled like expensive cologne and accidental forgiveness. When you padded back down barefoot, the scent of smoke had faded. Mostly.

The kitchen... looked almost normal. A bit too shiny in places. A few new scorch marks on the far wall.

Kieran and Luke stood elbow-deep in soap bubbles, suspiciously well-behaved. Kieran glanced up and winced. Luke saw you, gave you a sheepish wave —

Then broke into a huge grin and threw you a thumbs-up. You squinted.

“Why is he smiling?”

“Don’t ask,” Kieran muttered.

Before you could press, Sylus appeared at your side, as if conjured by dry wit and exhaustion. He took your hand — gently, like you might try to make another kitchen combust — and led you out to the waiting car.

You looked back once. Luke blew you a kiss. Kieran mouthed, run while you still can.

Sylus helped you into the passenger seat with a soft sigh, shut the door, and climbed in beside you. He didn’t say anything for the first few streets. The city blurred past in late-afternoon gold. Then:

“I was gone for six hours.”

You glanced at him.

He looked ahead, face unreadable. “Six. Hours.”

“Technically, it started fine,” you said.

“No. No, it didn’t.”

“There was a plan.”

“There was a flood.”

“Only because the sink didn’t have a disposal.”

“Because you shoved an entire duck down it.”

You scowled. “You’re being dramatic.”

“You roasted a duck in a flaming puddle of floor soup.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re not gonna marry me now, are you? Just because I can’t cook.”

Sylus’s mouth twitched. “That’s not the worst of your flaws.”

You gasped. “Excuse me—!”

He reached over, casually laced his fingers with yours.

“You don’t just not cook. You destroy infrastructure. You violate the Geneva Conventions of domestic appliances. But…” he looked at you, side-glance soft now, voice quiet, “you did it because you wanted to surprise me.”

You deflated. Just a little.

“I wanted it to be romantic.”

He parked in front of the hotel — a high-end private tower you’d never even noticed before. The doorman opened your door. Sylus ignored him.

“You’re going to shower,” he said, voice slipping into command again. “A long, hot one. While I figure out how to rebuild a kitchen from ashes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are we staying here?”

He looked at the sky. “Unless you’d like to sleep on a countertop covered in caramelized soy glue.”

You were still grumbling when the suite door clicked shut behind you. The shower steamed the mirrors. The robe was comically plush — full hotel luxury. You padded out barefoot, towel around your hair, haloed in warmth.

And stopped dead. On the table: dinner.

Steam curled from a silver cloche. A bottle of wine rested in an ice bath. And in the center — carved, plated, perfect: Peking. Duck.

You narrowed your eyes. “You — you ordered this.”

Sylus was by the window, immaculate as ever — hair flawless, suit crisp, a wineglass poised in one hand. He looked like a luxury ad for danger and disapproval. And next to him, you felt like a half-drowned feral kitten someone had hosed off just enough to be allowed indoors.

You scowled. “I hate you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He crossed the room, took your hand again, and pulled you into his lap as he sat. The robe slipped open slightly. His fingers skimmed under the hem, along the back of your thigh, warm against your clean skin.

“You had my card,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “You could’ve ordered it. From anywhere. Best in the city.”

“I wanted to do it myself.”

“I know.” His lips brushed your jaw. “And I’d still burn the house again if it meant getting here.”

You turned to kiss him — deep, slow, shameless. He tasted like red wine and something even older. His hand wrapped in your hair. Your legs shifted around him.

Somewhere across the room, the duck sighed.

Forgotten. Cooling.

Probably grateful it didn’t end up as test subject number three.

836 notes · View notes

cheralith · 2 months ago

Text

my serendipity ₊˚⊹♡

— promise yourself to him, and he'll love you forever tenfold. or... the blue lock boys and their proposals to you.

starring ; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, michael kaiser content warnings ; gn!reader, alcohol consumption (isagi), reader wears a skirt (bachira), cursing (shidou/kaiser), reader wears a dress and heels (kaiser), lowk ooc shidou and maybe kaiser, possessive kaiser a/n ; happy late valentine's day everyone and a happy birthday to me hehe! i hope i'm not late by a mere day, but this is both my valentine's day event and my birthday gift from me to you all, so i hope that alongside this, you're surrounded by nothing but tender loving care amidst the season of love ( •◡-)-♡! there's also a collection of some of my favorite love songs i've added under each of the names that i think fit them/their scene, so take a listen for a more immersive experience, enjoy!

— love, isagi yoichi.

The freshness of the meadow's air was an atmosphere you think you can breathe in forever, for it was so much more pristine and clear than the air you were used to in the city. The setting sun overviews the seaside town that you and your boyfriend took the pleasure of visiting as a treat for you both since he was currently off season and you decided to make the most out of what you could do. It was a scene straight out of a painting, you think to yourself, as yellows and oranges paint the sky overhead, a sliver of iris beginning to take over as twilight sets.

The little town below you hustles and bustles about, its townspeople fluttering over to wrap up the seemingly mundane day. You're a little envious that they get to see such a beautiful sight like this everyday and get to breathe in fresh air without the mayhem of cars and salarymen scattering themselves. Closing your eyes, you take in the cooling spring air of the meadow, letting yourself linger amidst the peaceful atmosphere of the countryside.

You'll miss this. The peace and placidity of a place like this. You dream of retiring to a cottage somewhere similar to here, somewhere where the grass is greener and the sky is bluer. You think it'd do you some good.

"I think some wine would pair well with your daydreaming," a voice says playfully.

Opening your eyes, you see your companion holding a bottle of wine in his hands, gentle eyes softening at your serenity. Yoichi is glad he brought you here, knowing that you needed a break from city life to just simply get away to the tranquility of the countryside. The change in you was more than evident—the stiffness in your body was long gone upon arrival and you were much more laxed when it came to last minute changes on the itinerary. It was rare he saw this side of you, so he savored it with every moment he was able to get.

Smiling gently at your boyfriend, you nod and let him pour two glasses of white wine into the glasses you and him had brought for this picnic.

"How're the sandwiches?" Yoichi asks, handing you your glass. "I bought them at this local diner nearby the hotel, so I hope they're okay."

"I really was never much of a bologna fan until now," you say as you pick up your half-eaten sandwich and hold it out for him to take a nibble. "It's a little salty, but I like it."

"I'm glad," he affirms through chews before he hums in approval. "Did you try the charcuterie board yet? This place is known for their cheeses."

You shake your head. Yoichi grins and eagerly begins to throw together a cheese-and-cracker creation, topped off with a bit of crumbled nuts. He gently cups his hand underneath the one holding the stack and motions for you to come forward.

Biting gently and letting his hand catch the crumbs, you giggle when you thoughtfully chew on the combinations as Yoichi throws the extra crumbs in his mouth to not let anything go to waste.

"Hey! This was pricey," he claims, "I'm sure half a cracker cost one hundred yen each..."

You fight the urge to spit out your food at his exaggeration. Yoichi may be a world class soccer player, with the mere mention of his name lighting peoples' faces with pride as the ace of one of Japan's soccer teams, but despite his hefty salary, there was still that semi-frugal middle class boy who still debated in buying a yogurt drink or ice cream whenever you and him stopped by a convenience store—never mind the fact that he could buy fifty of each in one sitting.

His humbleness, however, is what made you so drawn to him in the first place. He knew, you knew, and everyone knew of his great skill and play on the field, but in interviews, he was always one to scratch his neck and say "I just did what I could, really..." post-games. Yoichi never let the fame get to his head, and his ability to stay so grounded to earth made you filled with love solely for him and him alone.

The mix of the sweetness of the cheese and the saltiness of the cracker blend beautifully together on your tongue. You mimic his actions from before and give a hum and nod with approval at your boyfriend's taste.

There's a few other assortments of food that you and him have collected prior to the picnic—some fresh fruit you had bought and cut from the farmer's market, a small pasta bowl made by Yoichi himself, little quiches you had grabbed from one of the bakeries, and a strange white box that peeks itself out of the picnic basket that you have yet to open that was brought by Yoichi.

Gently clinking your glasses together, the wine that goes down your throat feels just as mellow as the atmosphere that hugs you and your boyfriend. Everything feels just so perfect right now, you could bathe yourself in such contentment.

Some conversations float by between you and Yoichi, breezy and effortless for sometime as the sun slowly sets itself into the mountains. Talks about work, about his recent plays (you laugh out loud whenever his anger gets the best of him and a short fuse of cusses spit out from him when he talks about specific players' plays, throwing a stray at one of his teammates), about the latest gossips, everything that just comes naturally to you. There was no need for a filter whenever Yoichi was with you. His judgement barely shone through when you were around.

He finishes the last of his wine rather quickly. Yoichi places it down gently and grabs your hands in his own. "I have a surprise for you."

A brow raises as your lips curl. "Oh?"

"Wait here, yeah?" Yoichi asks as grabs the picnic basket and places it in front of you. "I have to go grab something from the car. Why don't you prepare the cake in the meantime, hm? Maybe do some cleanup with the food, too, since it's getting late."

"Oh so that's what's inside the box," you murmur.

"Uh huh, I had it specially made for us," he says with a pinch of excitement in his voice. Yoichi gathers up a few of the plates and juts them in your hands, a wobbly smile upon his face as he gets up and dusts himself off, beginning to jog off in the direction of the parking lot. "I'll be right back!"

You blink at his hastiness, a little out of character for him, but shrug as you return back to your original position facing the coastal town and sunset. You're glad he tasked you with cleaning up the leftovers, since you've grown accustomed to Yoichi's occasional messiness and clumsiness when it came to handling food. There was one time during a friend's dinner party that he dropped the pot roast in front of everyone, meat going everywhere to Bachira's delight and to Barou's disdain. You also grow a little weary whenever he's around ceramic, since he's broken quite a few bowls and plates without much effort since Yoichi doesn't seem to have a grasp of his own strength whenever he washes the dishes.

You shake your head at the memories, quietly laughing to yourself when you remember Barou forcing him to mop his apartment floor from the remnants of the meat as a punishment. Barou still invites you over to his house during group events, but you often have to plead with him to invite your boyfriend, now used to the pulled face he makes or the curse of, "Is the donkey really necessary to bring?" through the phone.

Tenderly, you open the picnic basket and carefully take out the white cake box to put it on the blanket. You go to prepare two plates together for the cake and take the cake cutter out of the basket, ready for slicing. Your fingers gently tug at the delicate silk ribbon right before you open the lid.

Your heart skips a beat.

It's a simple white vanilla cake shaped into a heart. Its framed with pale pink frosting on its side, as well as a couple of chocolate-covered strawberries placed in some places of the framing. But it's not the design of the cake that captures you.

It's what's written on it.

Four words written in delicate cursive so clearly and distinctly that it's hard to miss.

Will you marry me?

Your breath hitches as you read it with glazed eyes, your head whipping around to call Yoichi over, thinking perhaps he grabbed the wrong cake by accident from the cake shop, but your doubts suddenly dissipate when you're faced with Yoichi on one knee before you...

... with a velvet box in hand, a glimmering ring ready for you tucked carefully within it.

Words falter, and you can only stare at him in astonishment as he smiles at you, his lips still a little crooked in apprehension.

He bites his lip, grin growing a little wider as tears brim your eyes.

"Well?"

— with all my heart, bachira meguru.

"Meguru, that's cheating!"

"Since when where there rules to tag?!"

You huff in annoyance as your boyfriend hops off the railing of the staircase he just slid down from as his hand grazed your back to indicate you were "it" again.

You can feel some of the stares of the security guards that were left to babysit you and him as you dash your way down the staircase to chase after your boyfriend through the empty halls of the museum he had cleared out for you and him this evening. That's one of the many pros of being a professional soccer player—that anything can be bent at someone's will with a mere slide of stacks of cash. And Meguru had decided to use his own gain to entertain you and him.

By playing a game of tag between the two of you in amidst the massive art museum.

He claimed it was the perfect foundation for it; pillars to hide behind, a maze of rooms to obscure the tail that one may have on another, wide halls to run around in. For Bachira Meguru, this was the perfect battleground besides the turf of a soccer field. You suppose it also came from his early love of art due to his mother being a painter, with some of her collections even being shown for the season in one of the halls.

Anyone else of your ages would think such an activity was foolish. To an extent, yes, they were right. You and Meguru were both adults with adult responsibilities and adult lives... but you only live once and you and him lived by the philosophy to live it to the fullest. Childish whimsies came more often to you and your boyfriend, and that was the gravitational pull that drew you and him together to blossom a relationship filled with surprises and spontaneity. You felt unbelievably alive with him.

He'd call you in the middle of the night, asking you if you want to skinny dip in the nearby beach with him. He'd stop the car in the middle of a busy road as the view of an amusement park came closer, snatching your arm and tugging you out of it to run to its entrance. He'd show up at your door with concert tickets in hand unprompted, jutting one in your hand and telling you to get ready.

Bachira Meguru was a lightening bolt, sparking energy everywhere unsolicited. And you were more than happy to be struck over again and again if it meant you felt alive.

So now you're here. It's near midnight, and you're sure you and him have scattered almost all the interior terrain of the museum he cleared out in your game of tag that he brought up to you yesterday evening out of nowhere, telling you to dress nice, but to wear running shoes.

Meguru poked his head out from behind a wall that lead to the other room, giggling as you whip your head a few times to catch where he went before you spot his bright canary yellow eyes and run after him.

You weave through the plethora of statues that sprinkle about the corridor, sprinting after the flash of brown and yellow hair in front of you. It shouldn't be fair that you're currently chasing down a professional soccer player who clearly has the upper hand, but in all honesty, you think the challenge makes it all the more fun, more exciting.

Stopping to catch your breath, you hunch down for a bit, gathering your skirt in your hands to reveal the worn-out running shoes you wear that contrast heavily to the neat outfit you're wearing as you collect your energy.

"Don't tell me you're tired already," Meguru sings out, his voice rather close.

You lift your head up to see your boyfriend standing just a few meters in front of you, leaning on a pillar of a statue with a cocky smile, arms crossed as if this was the easiest thing in the world. There wasn't even a sheen of sweat on his forehead, unlike your misted one. Your chest heaves for a few moments, and he watches anticipatingly as you collect yourself before you take a swipe at him.

Meguru jumps back just in time, laughter ringing out as you gather up your speed and sprint. You manage to turn a corner that's shared with the hallway he had just turned on and take a shortcut, waiting behind the open wall before you jump out and tap his shoulder.

"Gotcha," you grin as he gasps in delight and looks back at you, mischief ever so clear in his face.

You attempt to muffle your many fits of giggles when you come up with a plan to try and escape him. There's two choices that unfold before you—either you can run up the flight of stairs into the Greek artifacts or you can enter into the inner garden.

With not much time left, you can hear his quickening footsteps growing louder and louder, and you go for the latter.

Your feet carry you into the dark garden, making you squint your eyes to get a proper view of where you're going, but you see a sheen of light the closer you get to the center of it. Deciding that might be where the common area is, you quickly dart towards it but gasp when the entirety of it comes into full view.

Candles light up the middle area of the garden with rose petals sprinkled about the ground. A large balloon arch of white and gold arcs over what seems to be small semi-circle of little flower bouquets with a small white rug placed delicately in the middle of it all. There's two words that spell themselves out in blocky letter lights.

MARRY ME?

It takes you awhile to register the scene before you, your heart thrumming faster and faster each time you scan it.

"Aw man, you found it too early..." Meguru's voice sulks from behind you.

Whipping your head around, you yelp at your boyfriend's sudden appearance, making him grin. You think you need to take a pause from all the excitement you've been absorbed in for the past few hours, a new one being blossomed at this very moment.

There truly was never a dull moment with Bachira Meguru.

Wordlessly, his smile turns less playful and more tender when you can't find the words to say. He takes your hand in his own grasp and gently leads you to the scene before you, getting down on one knee and pulling out a small box from his back pocket.

"(L/N) (Y/N)," Meguru starts slowly, his voice displaying the utmost sincerety he's able to muster and possibly the most serious you've ever seen him. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me and being with me for the rest of our lives?"

With someone as special and as enigmatic as Meguru, it really doesn't take you much debating to choose your answer. Someone like this only comes once in a lifetime, and you decide to cherish it as much as you can in this one.

You only live once after all.

You nod, whispering a "Yes..."

Meguru's smile stretches wide before he shouts out in happiness, jumping in the air. You laugh loudly at his antics before he plucks out the ring and puts it on your finger, letting you admire it before sharing a loving kiss. The security guards that oversee the garden let out claps of celebration and a couple of shouts of approval, making you and him laugh at the accidental audience.

Meguru goes to wipe away a fallen tear from your cheek before kissing your forehead gently. He suddenly goes near your ear and whispers,

"This still means you're 'it', by the way."

— sincerely yours, itoshi rin.

Rin always thought he was meant to be alone.

His own parents tended more of their attention to Sae, and Sae himself left Rin to his own devices when Rin was only eleven, just barely hatching into puberty. Much of life Rin had to learn the harder way, where he had no forewarnings from anyone and he had to be taught his own lessons. It was his own self-discipline that got him through much of his younger years that made him so sustainable solely by his own foundations.

Even during games, he tended to lean on his own instincts on what he thought was best rather than relying on his teammates for the best play possible. If it were legible, Rin would've taken an opportunity to play 1v11 in a match since he carried the majority of his teams anyway with his prodigal skills.

He thrived best in an isolated environment anyway. And Rin felt okay with it. No person is forever anyways, not even his own blood.

Until you came along.

It was in his second year during college. It was you and your stupid owl keychain on your stupid backpack that accidentally let out your stupid second volume of Ciguatera right in front of him. It was the stupid way how his hands lingered on the book just a little more than he should've. It was the stupid way that his eyes always gravitated to you during lectures. It was the stupid way that you and him were assigned as partners for a project. It was the stupid way your eyes lit up when you found out he played soccer.

It was the stupid way he felt able to breathe the air much more comfortable around you the more he spent time with you. It was the stupid way the days felt duller when he didn't see you on campus. It was the stupid way his heart fluttered when you laughed, when you smiled, when you said his name.

It was all so... stupid.

A feeling he never felt before had been born from your existence. Itoshi Rin usually had a pretty solid grasp on things he could control, but he didn't know how to handle such a feeling of affection because he hadn't ever felt it before, and it felt too slippery to try and get a firm grip of. You shook his core, and Rin hated it because only one other person in his life was able to do such a thing.

Learning it was best to do so after his last lesson to keep himself safe, he attempted to push you away before his heart broke a second time. Yet somehow, Rin felt more drawn to your pull every time he tried to create space between you and him.

They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. Rin never really gave the feeling much thought in regards to you until he found himself dismal and in a grey area again without seeing your face at least once, but still ever so stubborn, he thought this was best. This is what he was used to—being alone.

"I don't have time for you anymore," he said to you one evening as he dropped you off at your dorm. This would be the last time he'd do this, he promised himself, just one more time to make sure you were safe to put himself at ease.

You had turned back to him with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen, but with a small smile still on your face. Without asking for a reason, you merely nodded. "I see. Well... goodbye then."

Rin tried to ignore the way his heart had clenched so tightly as he watched you disappear into your dorm hall without glancing back at him one more time, though there seemed to be a slight lag in your steps.

But the lines blurred. It wasn't him being alone that he reclused himself to during your absence from his life... but rather loneliness. He was back to being lonely, not alone.

He had to go back to watching movies by himself, conversing with his own thoughts instead of another voice. He had to go back to eating meals by himself without having a foot nudge his own under a table. He had to go back and stop looking for a specific pair of bright eyes and a wishful smile in the stands during games.

He went back to a world of grey of his doing. All because he was terrified to let another person handle his own heart. And he was doing a good job at altering his life back to the way it was, until you did what you usually did best and butt in and splash color all over his monochromatic canvas again.

It was before an away game, in the common-area just before he boarded the coach bus. There, just before you turned the corner, he spotted you saying goodbye to someone, where you had accidentally made eye contact with turquoise eyes that seemed to shine for the first time in a long time at your appearance before him. He couldn't stop himself from staring, feeling relieved that you were still within his radius despite him being the one to create space.

You lingered there for a moment, before swallowing and mouthing to him with that stupid gentle, forgiving smile of yours,

"Good luck. Do well."

Rin sprinted off the bus the moment they were back on campus after winning by a landslide due to his off-the-wall playing. His feet carried him to your dorm, where he rapidly knocked on your door despite it being near midnight. You opened the door to him and despite hating it when people touched him, Rin had held you so tightly with hitched breaths, whispering "I'm sorry..." over and over again into your ear.

And came Itoshi Rin's first love, blossomed on a random Friday night.

His only love at that. He can't imagine the ring in his pocket being for anyone else.

A couple years older now, he walks alongside you on the beach that he used to ponder about whatnot on as he listens to you talk about the latest gossip at work. This is the rhythm of how your dynamic usually works—you talk, Rin listens. He likes it that way. It's an adequate balance.

The air is cooling now, now that autumn is approaching. You're huddled in a light jacket (Rin's, respectively), and gently warm your hands by rubbing them together to let the created friction emit some heat. Rin silently grabs your hands and cups them together, embellishing a better warmth from his own breath instead of letting you do your own work.

Your eyes soften as you let his love language speak for him, his own gaze coming to meet yours as his hands envelope yours and clasps them tightly to keep the heat trapped in your skin.

"Is that better?" he asks quietly, eyes looking for any sign of your approval.

You nod contently. "Mm hm."

"I told you to dress warm," he says, sighing, "next time, bring gloves."

You know Rin long enough to know such a tone of phrase isn't necessarily scolding you, but rather cautioning you out of genuine care. It wasn't his fault his voice had a natural cutting-edge tone, but you've grown accustomed to the little bits of adjustments he does to indicate he's not being cold.

The soft sand feels more pliable than usual. Perhaps it was the heavier layers you wear, but you find yourself sinking into it more easily. Rin helps stabilize you by gripping your hand in his own, noticing your imbalance.

"It's just a little further," he murmurs softly, a little shy when he squeezes your hand in his jacket pocket.

He was never able to quite fully get over his fluster around you. You made his head fill with cotton, his heart pound a little harder, whenever you were within his vicinity, despite knowing every detail about you. Even after six years of being together as an official couple, he never was able to fully get over that high school crush feeling. Maybe that's a good thing, though. Maybe it was meant to be that way. It was probably life's way of telling him that you were made to last for him, as only you were able to emit such a feeling for him when no one else could.

They say the average relationship lasts two years and three months. Yet somehow, Rin has never gotten over the feeling of falling in love with you since the moment he spotted you for the first time during a home game. It's been six years and ten months since that incident, and he figures that if such a feeling hasn't expired yet, it might never will.

The trail of candles suddenly appear before you to your surprise. The sand trail that it frames is the only part of the beach that is untouched by feet, as though it was waiting for you to imprint on it. On the other side of the trail lies a half-circular structure of individual white roses, all standing up right from the sand, along with blanket and a basket of wine and chocolates.

"Oh my," you mumble quietly, clearly taken aback at the rather romantic scene. While your boyfriend always did the most when it came to your dates, this was another level of sentimental. Be it the isolation from other people on the beach or the sunset horizon in the background, you feel a wave of solitude when Rin trails you down the path.

"This is rather new," you say to him suddenly, your eyes wide with worry. "Um, I didn't forget something big, did I? We celebrated your birthday... our anniversary isn't for another month..." you count down all the possible major events that you and Rin celebrated together as a couple on your fingers, but Rin shakes his head.

"No," he interjects. "This... i-is something completely different."

You blink owlishly and tilt your head, leaning your face closer to examine your boyfriend's blushed cheeks.

"Oh, are you proposing?" you ask inquisitively with a sparking coy smile, as if it was the plainest thing in the world.

Rin tends to be rather flat with his emotions, but he can't help but gawk when you guess correctly. He supposes his reaction gives his plans away, since you burst out laughing when a choked noise comes out of his throat.

"So I'm correct?" you ask through giggles.

"How'd you know?!" Rin asks, his blush now spreading rapidly on his face, the back of his neck absolutely burning with heat. Upset that all the plans he kept repeating to himself for the entire last three days was suddenly disrupted by you picking up context clues, he feels his ego crumbling before you, going back to square one where he'd feel that familiar flutter in his chest.

"Meguru told me a week ago when we all went to that one bar," you mention. "He had a little too much to drink and ended up accidentally spilling the beans."

A vein pops on Rin's forehead with avid irritation, jaw gritting as the phantom of a familiar bob-cut throws a peace sign in his mind. This is what's bound to happen when Rin asks for help on a major life event from the one person that can't keep his mouth shut even with a gun to his temple. But Bachira was the only person in the friend group that had been married so far to who was essentially his twin flame, meaning he was ultimately the last resort.

Rin thinks that he should've just asked someone on the street instead, now that it's clear his decision went awry.

Stupid shitty, fucking lukewarm bob-cut... Rin curses in his mind, a fire burning behind his eyes. Next time I see him, I'll—

"My answer is 'yes', by the way, Rin."

Rin's violent daydreams are suddenly broken when your voice cuts through. Your sweet, supple voice that's able to calm him down just by the sound of his name falling from his lips. Your superpower, he thinks.

He suddenly loosens his fist that he was making in his hand and looks at you. Clear, smiling eyes gaze at his wide ones with affirmation so distinctly held within them. All the tension he had been feeling up until this very moment instantaneously dissolves, running through his now-loosened fist like sand from the beach you and him are posted on.

He wants to grab your face and kiss you with as much strength he can muster. Wants to whisper sweet nothings and loving promises into lips he's tasted over and over again, yet just can't get enough of. Wants to hold you so tightly in his arms to the point where you meld into each other.

But, nevertheless, he holds himself back. There's still something he has to do.

"At least let me say the damn thing first," he mutters and finally gets down on one knee, his gaze never faltering against yours.

You giggle, nodding and letting him take one of your hands as his unoccupied one goes to fetch the ring box from his back pocket.

Rin was, and still is, not a man of many words. He says what he needs to say the moment he needs to say them. He feels as though he can't waste his time on incessant words, but this time, he feels as though four words can carry all the meaning he needs to convey.

He swallows thickly, presenting a luscious, glimmering ring at you, noticing the way your eyes become hypnotized with the specialized gem settled in the middle of the band.

"(Y/N)," Rin states, smoothing over your precious ring finger. "Will you marry me?

— forever yours, shidou ryusei.

"Ryu, you're gonna get another ticket!" you yell out through the helmet as the motorcycle's speedometer's needle rapidly ticks up. Your arms wrap securely around his waist as he laughs off your concern, his grip on the handles tightening when he squeezes the throttle grip.

You know Ryusei loves to live life to its fullest—its the core of his way of living life. He's irrational and explosive, impulsive and eccentric. Anything that makes him tick is what captures his full attention.

Unfortunately for you, your complete opposite behaviors is uniquely what made him so magnetized by you for reasons unknown. Unlike Ryusei, who tends to stand out wildly in a crowd, be it his unconventional haircut or his obnoxious thoughts that he just can't keep to himself, you're demure and quiet. You keep to yourself at all times and you think that you're quite plain-looking. You don't sport wild hair or scattered piercings, nor do you remove your filter and say what you want to say, so you don't understand how someone like you have a spotlight in Ryusei's mind.

But you do, somehow. And you don't think that he's too intent on shifting it to anyone else soon.

So now you're here. It's eleven at night with an near-empty highway before you, backpacking your boyfriend that your parents heavily disapprove of in the middle of the night because he snatched you up from your apartment and told you to follow him. He tossed you his spare helmet for his motorcycle and off you and him drove into the night.

You should've known better, you really should've, considering it was Ryusei after all that you were dealing with. He'll do anything that his mind tells him to without thinking of the consequences. You can't think of another person in the world who has little to no judgement about his actions.

"Don't worry 'bout it, dolly!" he guffaws from his helmet. He lurches forward and you squeal when the motorcycle's speed suddenly jumps. "You know I'd never hurt ya!"

You very much want to protest against his claim, considering he's forced you to tag along with extreme experiences that have put you scraping at Death's door, but every time, Ryusei always tugs you back to reality, to him. Because your his before anyone else's, even the Reaper himself.

"Where are we even going?!" you ask out loud, trying to leer over his shoulder for any sort of familiar direction. To no avail, you're only met with the empty road of the highway, only lit by the streetlights. "I have a meeting really early tomorrow!"

"Fuck your meeting!" Ryusei hollers, giving another one of those joker-like laughs. "Fuck your job in general, but fuck your meeting specifically!"

You know Ryusei's hatred for your corporate job. Blame it on him hating the mundane or how you rant to him about your trashy bosses, he keeps telling you to ditch the position over and over again, even asking you if you quit every time you bring it up. You know that it's just him trying to be a good boyfriend, but when you try to bring up the fact that the job market for your skills is trash, he only shrugs and just tells you why even bother with working. His salary as a soccer player is more than enough to cover you and him.

"That doesn't answer my question!" you shout back through the loud roaring of the motorcycle's engine. "Where are we going?!"

"You'll see! You need to trust me!" he yells from over his shoulder. You can see those rows of menacing pearly whites from the shaded visor and your stomach stirs a little. From excitement or anxiety, that was up to fate to decide. You've placed your trust in Ryusei's hands a plethora of time and you still haven't gotten a good grasp of its pattern of consequences.

You merely sigh in defeat, placing your chin on his shoulder and placing your whims at his hands, letting him take reign of your late-night journey.

From a desolate parking lot, he introduces you to a lone hill adorned with flora, where a wooden staircase at the bottom of it waits for you and him to carry you to the top of it. It's rather a rough journey, with you counting a total of eleven flights of stairs of ten steps each that you have to take up in the dead of night where you were wringed out of all the energy you had from the day. Ryusei wastes no time, leaping through the first three with no problem. He waits for you as you heave through them at your own pace, your legs already starting to turn numb.

"Took you long enough," Ryusei remarks, not even waiting for a reply from you before he begins to climb another three.

By the time you've reached the sixth flight, he's already done with all of them to your discontent. He calls for you to hurry up from atop the stairs and you flicker back a frustrated middle finger back at him, to which he only answers back with an boisterous laugh.

"Oop, watch your step, doll," he cautions as he catches you last minute before you nearly face-plant on the floor when you trip on your last stair, your legs shaky from the exhaustion. "What took you so long?" he asks tauntingly.

You shove him off of you, deciding it was better to lean on a tree. "Screw you..."

"Mmh, you can do that later, if you'd like," he murmurs flirtatiously in your ear, laughing viciously as you swat at him. He lets you catch your breath before tugging at your sleeve and telling you to hurry. "Your surprise is waiting, c'mon."

Leave it to Shidou Ryusei to plan something spontaneous in the dead of the night. It was unfortunately very like him to do something as erratic as this, and you just hope whatever he has in store doesn't involve you facing a near-death experience like the one time he brought you bungee-jumping straight after work.

Yawning, you nod and follow him with fatigued limbs. It takes your tired eyes a little while to adjust to what Ryusei is pointing at, but the heaviness disappears the moment you understand why he brought you here so late.

The hill somehow overviews nearly all of the city and the lights it gleams out into the night. Your breath catches itself in your throat as you take in the glorious sight of the stars in the sky and the array of lights that dance about the city's skyline. The taller skyscrapers in the background loom over the rest of the city like guardians and the light of cars on the winding highway that circles around it look like little fairies dancing about.

It's a gorgeous view that you knew you would've never seen if it weren't for the interference in your normally-mundane life that is Shidou Ryusei.

A pair of arms goes to wrap themselves around your waist and bring you closer to a chest. Ryusei settles himself nicely in the divot between your shoulder and neck, inhaling a bit of your leftover perfume. "You like?"

You nod, eyes taking in the breathtaking view in full depth, scanning every inch that your field of vision lets you see. "Yes," you breathe.

"Good," he mutters, "Discovered this place randomly a few weeks ago after a post-celebration. I thought you might like it."

"It's gorgeous, Ryu," you warmly whisper, your heart melting a little at his consideration.

In any frontal aspect, no one would expect the Shidou Ryusei to be in a relationship, let alone be good at handling one. But after being with him for quite awhile, with your third anniversary coming up soon, you found a side to him that would be deemed almost unnatural to the unsuspecting eye. Underneath those layers of brashness, you were able to find a softer side of him, one that'd only be revealed to you and you alone.

Sure, there were times when his usual image would shine through when you were with him, most prominent when there were others around that were eyeing you ("Take a look this way and I'll bust your head in, bud!" he had shouted with a wicked smile to a passerby one time that looked at you with just the slightest bit too much of intent), but behind closed doors, a tenderness revealed itself dedicated for you.

Because in all honesty—Ryusei was a good boyfriend. Audacious and obnoxious, sure, but good. There was a reason why your relationship has lasted this long, after all. He'd come at your beck and call when you needed him most with no questions asked. He'd offer you advice whenever you complained about something, knowing that you didn't really care about sympathy. He always remembered important dates, even the miniscule ones like what date the new season of your favorite show released just so he can watch it with you.

That layer that only you got to see was the prime reason as to why you returned his affection in equal fervor.

You begin to feel his lips peppering a small path up the side of the neck, letting out a brief yelp when you feel his sharp teeth graze the lobe of your ear. You can feel him grin against your skin.

"You wanna elope with me, doll?" he asks suddenly.

Spine stiffening, you look at him from the side of your now-widened eyes. "Huh?"

"You heard me," he shrugs nonchalantly, as if it doesn't bother him. And it probably doesn't, knowing that he'll always have a way out eventually to get what he wants.

"I—" you start, your words suddenly knotting in your throat. "Ryu... that's a big decision."

"Well duh!" he exclaims. "That's the point! We gotta make it dramatic as possible. That's the whole fun of it."

"Are you only asking me to do this just so you can get some weird spark of adrenaline?" you ask, brows furrowing in anticipation.

Ryusei snorts. "You think that lowly of me? Hell no. I wanna marry you, for real. It's just..." For the first time since you've known him... you hear Shidou Ryusei falter. His head hunches a bit, a frown forming itself on his lips.

"Your parents will never approve of me, we both know that," he says, his grip around you tightening as though you'd slip away from him at any moment. "I'd never get their blessing."

Your eyes soften a bit as he stares intently at the view in front of you. The way his voice goes so quiet confirms the genuineness behind his words and you know what he says about your parents is true. Yes, he loves you and yes, he'll be able to provide for you, but when your parents learned about his reputation on the field as a soccer player, they exactly weren't the most pleased to know that your boyfriend was willing to start fights with whoever dared to cross him.

But... despite it all, despite all the headlines and the rumors, Shidou Ryusei was still yours. You still held him close despite all the challenges that came your way just for being at his side. It was that singular layer of himself that he'd unsheathe just for you to let you know that you mattered to him just as much as soccer did. While the questions of why were still left unanswered, since as much as you knew him, Ryusei was still an enigma to you, his actions spoke loud and true. Reckless as he was, at the end of the day, he was so, so good to you.

Sure, you could also get loving from some plucky nobody on the street, but Ryusei's form of love was different. It was vibrant, avid with colors and explosions of life, you don't think another person could dare paint themselves in the colors of Shidou Ryusei.

You could go about your mundane life. Settle down with someone that was just as enticing as you were, have a family, keep working at your corporate job, retire peacefully...

... but truly, where was the fun in that?

You don't think you can live life in that manner after meeting Ryusei. You don't think you should.

"... are you really serious about this?" you mutter softly. "Do you really intend on marrying me?"

Ryusei cocks a brow, as if you've just asked him if the sky is blue. "No shit I do. You think all those times me screaming 'This one's for you' right before I score a goal were for nothing?"

You sigh with a smile, memories of playbacks of your boyfriend shrieking out your name on the field when the ball lands in the net running through your mind and how you had to hide your face at times in embarrassment when he pointed a painted fingernail in your direction in the VIP section.

"Do you swear you'll treat me well?" you ask as your hand finds its way to his own.

Ryusei interlocks his fingers with yours. "When have I not?"

Your heart squeezes. "And do you swear that you'll love me forever?"

You can just hear the smirk in his voice as he titters. Suddenly, he removes his hands and repositions them on your waist, your feet suddenly not being rooted to the ground anymore.

"'Till death to us part, sweetness!" he shouts, twirling you around with his strength.

You yell at him to put you down, fists going to hit his arms as he nears the edge of the fencepost. "Okay, okay, I get it! Ryu, I'll fall—Christ, Ryusei put me down! I'll marry you, just put me down!"

Eventually, he does and his laughter ceases. Suddenly, your cheeks are being squished and your lips meet his in a semi-violent manner, teeth nearly clashing as Ryusei kisses you hard and passionately.

He holds you there for a minute, tasting your lips over and over again with his before he breaks apart from you and gives you a wide grin, smirking at your flustered breathlessness.

"Call off work," he says, giving a wet kiss on your forehead. "We're going ring shopping tomorrow first thing."

— promisingly yours, michael kaiser.

"I hate you."

... is what Kaiser said to you out of the blue one day, completely unprompted. You were standing at the entrance of his apartment, some food for him in hand, your journey to travel to his abode ending on a rather oddly sour note.

Despite the fact that it was him that asked you to come over to "hang out" at his place while he was off-season, Kaiser wanted to push you away, to get you as far away from him as possible. He could no longer stand to look at your face without his gut churning and his head spinning. Similar in the way that he'd watch his opponent score a goal during a high-intensity game, something about your presence made him feel queasy, as though there were a storm brewing up inside of him.

It wasn't always this way, which was the weird part. Or perhaps, for a better wording, wasn't always this intense. You and him had been friends since childhood, after he wandered into your father's bakery with the intent to steal to survive. You had graciously given him some spare bread rolls and told him that you'll see him later, in which his return to your father's bakery had bloomed a friendship. Leave it to the neighborhood baker's kid to befriend even the oddest of children, even the one that had a scrappy jersey and bruised knees with a busted lip that would send warning signs to most children. But no, you had to come in and swoop Kaiser into your life like the saint you were.

The problem is that Kaiser didn't know how a sickening feeling like this developed. Was it when you had baked him a small cake for one of his birthdays? Or perhaps when you started showing up to his soccer games to support him? He didn't know and that's what pissed him off—that he didn't have a definite answer to when this feeling started. He let go of that irritation quickly, however, choosing to dwell on the present and future instead of the past since he knew he couldn't change it even if he did have a framework of when. It wasn't like he could go back into the past and stop this horrid feeling from being born.

It was swiftly replaced instead by an annoyance of some kind. He'd get a tugging feeling at his chest whenever you smiled at him or whenever your hands would brush against his. His head would start to spin whenever you were near him, your perfume mingling in the air. The older you and him grew, the more intense such a feeling became and it became a more avid distraction as the years passed.

Like the time you had been sick and missed out on an extremely important match that would bring him to the German Cup. He remembers seeing the empty seat he reserved for you and how he kept looking back at it during each play. He'd score a goal in a miraculous play and would whip his head around to see if you witnessed him in such a glory, but then a frustration would stir up within him at the air that lingered in your seat. He remembers being more destructive on the field that day, his poor opponents having to be in the path of his chaos.

Or perhaps the time he had taken you on a trip abroad to New York, just you and him, where amidst all the sparkling billboards, one of his own sponsored by Adidas posted on the Times Tower, Kaiser's handsome face overseeing the business of Times Square. It was hard not to miss, if anything, and he got upset that you only complimented it with a mere "That's so cool!" as though the man standing right next to you wasn't the face for one of the top soccer teams in the world.

Or when poor Ness had to witness him throw a tantrum in his apartment when you texted him that you had to cancel plans since you were going on a date one evening. He saw red. Plates and glassware were broken, Kaiser's nails going to rip some of the canvases of the paintings that were hung up on the wall. Furniture perched for display suddenly taking on a newer, broken form as he'd punch and destroy them.

"A date?! A motherfucking date?! What the hell?!" he had shouted as another plate made contact with the wall, shattering it into pieces. "(Y/N) doesn't go on dates?! What the fuck is this! Who the hell is this shithead, even?!"

In his fit of fury, thoughts of all kinds had raced through his mind, and Ness had to use all of his strength to make sure Kaiser didn't hunt to the poor soul that you had a date with down. Thankfully, you had called him later that night and asked to go to his place, telling him your date had stood you up.

Peace be upon him. Ness had never seen Kaiser more serene after he ended the call with you, a content smile on his face despite the destruction around him.

Either way, you made Kaiser's body weaker with just the presence of you around him. And nothing made Kaiser hate himself more than feeling weak, hating how he was reduced back to that small child on the kitchen floor, staring up helplessly at a monster that he was half-created from. Your very essence made his core tighten and a heat bloom all over his cheeks, something that sickened him.

So he hates you. He hates you unbelievably so much for being able to bring him to his knees so pathetically, begging for your attention and your care and savoring every bit of it when you did grant it to him and only him.

Yet a twisted sense of shame would linger to him whenever he was reminded of your existence—as though you were his kryptonite.

He thinks this is the worse it's ever been—now that you and him are fully grown adults where maturity has blossomed something within you. You look more beautiful than usual lately, Kaiser notices. You're more confident and headstrong, your wit a little quicker. An aura of radiance seems to glimmer from you and you just have this magnetic pull that attracts many people toward your direction to both Kaiser's pride and disdain.

In a sinister sense, Kaiser wants to keep you all to himself. Wants to keep you trapped in his hold and keep you caged so he can admire you alone, away from prying eyes that might have similar intentions. No one should deserve to have such a beauty in their life, let alone gaze upon it. He's God's chosen emperor, only he should be allowed to have such a pretty, loving thing at his side.

But he can't obviously. You wouldn't be okay with it. And as much as Kaiser takes great pleasure in seeing faces of despair and misery from those he wants to bring down, he doesn't like it when you get upset at him. Loathes it, even, when you disapprove of something he does. You'd scold him for something small and he'd do everything in his power to reverse your disappointment, showering you in expensive gifts and lavish experiences to make up for it. It was pathetic, really, how quick he was to beg for forgiveness without even uttering the word "sorry."

He hates you for making him so vulnerable, for showing him a side of himself that he doesn't want to acknowledge. But he can't seem to push you away no matter how hard he wants to try to. Because he knows at the end of the day, he'll come crawling back to you in some manner.

You blink blankly at his irritated face, raising a brow at such a statement.

But you nonchalantly shrug, used to Kaiser's peculiar behavior. Surely something from earlier must've pissed him off, which is why you leapt to your feet when he essentially commanded you to come over, his bossiness and urgency clear in his tone over the phone call.

"Whatever man," you sigh, shoving your way through into his apartment without a care in the world. "Tell me something new for a change."

Kaiser opens his mouth to respond, brows furrowed, and ready to tell you to piss off and get the hell out, not wanting to be around you any longer, but words dissolve on his tongue when he watches you whistle a tune and unpack the package of food you bought along the way on the kitchen island. It's an oddly domestic scene that brings a solace back to him.

You hold up a plastic container, its contents making Kaiser's eye grow wider.

"Look," you cheer, opening up and holding a stick of seasoned bread crust. "Even got your favorite!"

He swallows thickly, feeling that weakness come to his knees again when you give that dazzling smile of yours. Call him a masochist, but even though Kaiser hates the way you make him feel like this, he can't help but savor in its pain oddly enough.

So he's here now. A few years later, officially your boyfriend after years and years of torturous pining in which the end of it came from what was essentially him spatting out a confession, on the rooftop of an ancient Parisian building with a white carpet before him as he stands on end of a white carpet. The other side of it, the elevator to the rooftop.

Blue rose petals that mimic the tattoo on his neck scatter the area with a flower arch stretching over the small stage he's on. The Eiffel Tower oversees the entirety of Paris, its lights glowing amidst the evening sky. The breeze is just perfect, Kaiser just hopes everything else will go according to plan as he stares intently at the elevator.

"Ness, it feels a little tight..." you mutter, trying to tug at the blindfold that covers your eyes.

"But you can't see anything, right?" Ness asks as his grip on your shoulders stays firm.

"No, but—"

"Good!" he retorts happily. "Don't worry, we've only got a few more floors to go."

Your lips warble. You feel as though this is somehow a weird murder set up Ness has planned for you, possibly waiting for the right moment to just shove you off the building while you weren't able to see. He always did happen to hold a small grudge against you, after all, since he had to practically fight for Kaiser's attention whereas you got it so naturally.

"Where's Micha?" you ask as the floors continue to ding out from inside of the elevator.

"Somewhere," Ness singsongs out, making the feeling in your gut churn.

You stay quiet, trying to think of an escape plan to get yourself out of this mess, but suddenly you hear the elevator doors shift and feel a cool breeze.

"Watch your step now," he says from behind you, lighting pushing you forward while making sure your heel didn't get caught in the little gap of the elevator and its doors. He promised that Kaiser that everything about tonight had to go right, and if he dared to mess up anything, Kaiser would have his head. Ness is sure Paris still has some guillotines leftover from the Revolution somewhere in the Palace of Versailles or deep in the catacombs, so Kaiser would surely find a way somehow.

So Ness, ten times more attentive than usual, gently leads you out of the elevator and onto the rooftop.

"Where are we?" you ask him, your head turning around rapidly to try and examine your surroundings despite the black blindfold. " Are we outside?"

"Leave us be, Ness," a familiar voice says.

Ah, there he is. The heavy feeling on your chest suddenly lifts, letting you breathe a little easier now that you know that your life has been spared from Ness's hands. Kaiser's voice, though it may bring impending doom to many, somehow had the ability to ease you and your worries. Perks of him being your boyfriend and not your enemy.

Ness goes to unravel the blindfold from your eyes, letting the warm glow of the many candles before you light up your field of vision. He leaves promptly, going back down the elevator and leaving you alone with the blurry figure some meters before you. Your vision clears eventually, and the scene unfurls before you much more vividly.

There stands Kaiser at the end of a magnificent carpet that tells you to come his way, dressed in a dark blue button up and black slacks with matching dress shoes. Ever the handsome fellow, you softly smile at him as you walk slowly down the carpet, never breaking eye contact with him.

It was good to make you wear white for tonight, Kaiser thinks to himself as he gets hypnotized by the way your dress flows behind you. This almost feels like practice to what's to come.

"This doesn't look like a dinner," you say softly as you take Kaiser's hand to help you up the platform.

"No, but it's something much better," he replies, a tightness in his voice that he tries to hide. "I hope."

"You hope?" you repeat, clearly amused with a singular brow raising.

"It's all going to depend on you, so don't ruin it for the both of us," Kaiser grumbles before you snort out a laugh.

Getting a hint of what's to come, you allow him to take your hand and watch as he gets down on one knee before you.

Kaiser strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly, all the while gazing at you.

"You're the only person that's able to bring me to my knees, you know that?" he professes quietly.

You can feel a hitch in your throat when you nod, a heat forming on your cheeks.

Kaiser pauses for a bit before continuing.

"I hate you. You know," he states all too simply.

"Yes," you sigh gently, thinking about all the times that Kaiser spewed out the words whenever he got even mildly annoyed with you. "You make it very aware."

He chuckles, and you can't help but laugh as well.

"But I hate you for a good reason. You make me weak, you make my head spin with every action you do, with every word you say," continues Kaiser eventually. "You know me better than I know myself. And I don't know whether it's been in each other's lives for so long or... or if I just get so vulnerable around you."

You bite your lip in apprehension, trying to regulate your breathing when the words just flow from Kaiser's lips as he pulls out a white ring box from his pocket.

"I want to feel that way around you forever, even if it might kill me," Kaiser declares. He slowly opens the ring box to reveal a handcrafted ring that glimmers with a large sapphire gem in the middle whose blue hue reminds you of someone all the familiar. "I want you to keep making me feel so stupidly small, to keep putting me in my place when I need it. And I want to relish in it forever, just as long as its you. I want you all to myself, because only you, (Y/N) (L/N), can do this to me."

"Micha," you choke out his nickname with a voice just slightly above a whisper. The way he looks at you so dearly makes you want to burst into tears. You don't think anyone else has ever looked in your direction is such an adoring manner.

Kaiser takes a deep breath, his nerves easing themselves to a balance as he swallows his concern away, letting himself linger in the moment.

"Will you marry me?" he asks you tenderly.

He thinks that the tears that cascade down your perfect face gives him all the answer he needs, but his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when you whisper back,

"... yes."

a/n ; ITS DONE !!!! oooohhh i'm so tired asdfllksadfk my ass hurts from all the sitting

but hi if you've made it this far! im thinking of making a part two to this with a couple of more characters, but wow i will not lie this took some life out of me lolol but regardless! thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are always noticed and appreciated (っ´ω`c)♡ !!

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prlssprfctn · 24 days ago

Note

Pit Maddness but instead of it being an excuse for all the wrong Jason does (which is nothing because he has done nothing wrong) it's instead just a guy in his head who is happy to have a new friend so he's here to hype Jason up with everything and anything.

The Lazarus Pit being used primarily by Ra's, it gets boring. He's an old man that likes to stay in his palace all day and the Pit needs *enrichment*. So when this kid who gets tossed into his waters, he is ready to become his ride or die, and that's what theater kid Jason needs. And being years and years old, he's got ideas of his own to help him out.

Jason: My perfectly mentally stable family seems to be hallucinating me since I've died. I'm going to haunt them.

Pit: You should recreate the buildup to your death by calling them from a random warehouse that is rigged to explode and each time they are too late to save you.

Jason adding that to his list of ways to psychologically torture his family plus the physical toll of them dealing with Red Hood while grinning happily.

It's Fathers' Day but Jason and Bruce got into an argument the night before.

Jason: He has plenty of children who will celebrate with him. I don't need to be there.

Pit: Find one of his exes and celebrate with them. I'd either go with Harvey or Minhkhoa. They'd love to rub it in his face.

Jason running to his car because that's a perfect idea. They can be a part of his growing cast of parental figures (-Bruce).

This is why Ra's said that Jason was a curse upon this world. A menace with an eternal supporter.

-🐳

I AM GIGGLING—

Jason reassures everyone that post Lazarus effects are annoying sometimes, and Bats just assume that it is about rage and pain, and whatever angsty stuff their paranoid brain come up with. except, Jason just means that Lazarus is always yapping. the worst part? Jason loves their ideas. it is his personal little enabler.

that being said, i remember someone on Twitter (i think) saying that Lady Bird car scene is Batman and Robins, thus:

Bruce: *criticizing Red Hood's ways to work while they are riding back home in the Batmobile*

Pit: open the front door and jump off the car. he would never recover and repeat the same mistake.

Jason: lol. yeah. thanks for idea!

Bruce: that's why we—

Jason: *jumps off the car, while it is on the high-speed*

Bruce: *high-pitched yell*

also, Pit encouraging Jason to spend time with Bruce's exes that haunt him for ages? absolutely. not to mention that it briefly witnessed Ghostbat's shenanigans while they were in the League, so—

Jason, sitting on the debrief, feeling particularly angsty because Bruce literally ignores his existence in the room, in his thoughts: god, i wish i found a way to ignore him back, you know

Pit: just call Ghost-maker.

Jason:

Jason: fuck, yeah

*on the other side of city*

Ghostmaker, staring at Jason's message with "wanna annoy B? come and pick me up from the cave":

Ghostmaker, wiping fake tears: Bruce was right. being a part of family means the world on good days.

#— lie answering #jason todd #red hood #batman #dcu #dcu comics #dc universe #batfamily #bruce wayne #batfam #ghostmaker #minhkhoa khan

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dailynnt · 9 days ago

Text

「RISK TASTES LIKE STRAWBERRIES AND THUNDER」

❱❱ Summary: After a too-loud party and a few too many cocktails, you calls brother to take you home. But instead of Yoongi, his friend Jungkook arrives, with a dangerous look, double piercings, and a voice that makes everything inside you burn. Your've known each other for a long time, but have always kept their distance, due to your brother's tacit prohibition. But the forbidden feelings between you two collides when Jungkook kiss you to avoid the attention of the police. And when they drive away you two can't stop.

❱❱ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N

❱❱ Age restrictions: 18+

❱❱ Size: one shot

❱❱ Tags: Jungkook!biker, friend's best brother, alcohol, nightclub, angst elements, forbidden feeling, sexual tension, swear words, illegal weapons, JK breaks the law? smut, explicit content, detailed description intimate scenes, dom!jk/sub!oc, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

❱❱ From author: So a new story! Gosh girls, I've been dreaming of posting this story for three days, but something kept getting in the way 😬 Today we celebrate Easter, and I still managed to escape from the guests to post this. In any case, I wish all Christians a happy Easter! Happiness and boundless sincere love to all of you 🐇✨ And of course, I really, really hope that you will like this story which not at all for the holiday 🤭

❱❱ Dedication: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @ggingerismm, @kooko009 for you, my most favorite babies 🥰

❱❱ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be inaccuracies, mistakes in the text and strange sentences so please be lenient with me 🥹😬 Please have protected sex ☝🏻

Loud music filled every inch of the club. The pulsation of the bass thumped right into your chest, mixing with the bitter aftertaste of the cocktail on your lips. In the red light that made its way through the smoke, you felt dizzy. The smell of the smoke made your stomach twist with obsessive nausea. You had been drinking a lot and dancing hard on the dance floor, and that's what made you feel so bad.

Your friends were still dancing, and you were already in the bathroom, standing by the sink, leaning your hands on the edge. Your face was slightly wet with water, and the cold liquid brought you back to your senses.

You picked up the phone and dialed your brother's number.

"Hello, Yoongi-oppa?" the voice sounded a little hoarse.

"Mmm? Where are you?" his even voice came through the receiver. Quiet, a little tired.

"Hongdae, at ‘V!be 51’, with the girls, I told you I was going. But... I don't feel good. I think I had a little too much to drink. Can you pick me up, please? I don't want to go alone - some assholes have already approached me twice."

"Dammit…" he muttered under his breath. "I’m on the other side of Seoul right now. I went to Songcheon. The ‘Burning Tempo’ organizers are driving me crazy because the equipment is acting up. It keeps crashing, I’m fixing it right now. I won’t be able to come, I need to finish this or we won’t make it before the festival starts."

You sighed in frustration.

"Okay, I'll take a taxi..." you mumbled into the phone.

"Wait, I know Jungkook is supposed to be at the Hongdae today, I'll call him now. He'll pick you up."

"Jungkook?" your heart skipped a beat. Your reaction to that name had been the same since you met your brother's friend. "Oops, don't bother, I'll take..."

"No," your brother interrupted, "No taxis. If you go out to wait for that taxi, some other assholes might come up to you. And Jungkook will take you home and I'll be calm that he will be with you," Yoongi said decisively. You won't be calm with Jungkook by your side. But your brother was determined, and you seemed to have no choice.

"Okay, oppa. I'll wait for him," you agreed in a tortured voice. Yoongi told you to wait at the club and that Jungkook would call you to come out.

You sat on a cushioned couch at the side of the dance floor, among your friends, but you felt a little disconnected. Your fingers were mindlessly scrolling through the feed on your phone, although you were really only waiting for one thing: a call from Jungkook. His name kept popping into your head over and over again, each time making your stomach clench with a wave of nervous anticipation.

Jungkook was your brother Yoongi's friend, four years younger than he, but inscribed in his life as if they had known each other forever. Yoongi had his own inseparable group of six friends with whom he went through school, student parties, and sleepless nights of music.

It all started with Jin - they were like fire and ice, but they always stuck together. The university added new faces: Hoseok, Namjoon, and Taehyung. Music became their language, their common heartbeat. They recorded in the same studio, hung out at festivals, and jammed for hours at night, as if time ceased to exist.

Jungkook appeared later, the youngest of them all, but he immediately fit in as if he had always been part of their circle. Jimin came along with him-they had been inseparable since childhood. The company turned into a real brotherly pack, close, loyal, where everyone has each other's back.

However, you were never a full-fledged part of their company, despite your very warm relationship with your brother. Yoongi made it clear to the boys from the very beginning that anyone who tries to get close to you will have to deal with him. You are forbidden territory for all of them.

His overprotection was annoying. Every guy who showed interest in you disappeared sooner or later, either because of Yoongi’s passive aggression or his direct interference, so now you're alone.

But it was different with Jungkook.

You fell in love with him from the first time you met him. He was completely your type, and that slight dangerous vibe from his biker image-with the double piercing in his lip and the sleeve of tattoos on his arm-was like a magnet for you. But you were even more attracted to his character - a little self-confident, a little warm, with the same inner strength that attracted you more than any image.

You didn't talk much, only in the moments when Yoongi took you with him to a party together, or he came to visit your house with other guys. Occasionally, when Jungkook needed your brother urgently, he would call you and you would have a short conversation on the phone.

Jungkook liked to make fun of you, and you always had something to say to him in return. But there was always something more behind those jokes. Your eyes always stayed on him a little longer than they should. And when he laughed at you, you laughed back, hiding the trembling inside.

But you've noticed that Jungkook's behavior has changed lately. It was after your trip to the Busan festival, when you were camping at the campground, that you confused Yoongi's shirt with Jungkook's and wore it overnight, just to be comfortable. It was hot, so you wore nothing else.

In the morning, when you were going to the shower, you accidentally bumped into Jungkook. He immediately recognized the his T-shirt you were wearing. You mumbled an embarrassed apology and promised to wash it and return it. But he reassured you and told you that you could keep it.

You noticed his appraising look and wanted to run away as fast as possible, and when you were about to do so, Jungkook came a little closer and said that no one would have looked better on that shirt than you.

From that moment on, everything changed.

His jokes became more frequent. They became more playful... more frank. But of course he did this when Yungi wasn't around. You couldn't believe that it was a courtship. Because Jungkook knew how it could end. He knew that your brother would not forgive him for even a look that lasted longer than it should.

So when Yoongi told you that Jungkook was coming, you felt that familiar tremor inside you that you felt every time he was mentioned.

The phone vibrated in your hands just as you were about to put all your thoughts aside and plunge back into your social media feed.

On the screen, you see Jungkook's name and a message in Kako-talk:

11.47pm | JK: "I'm here tiny. My bike, right in front of the sign."

You text him back:

11.47pm | You: "I'm coming"

You stood up, said goodbye to the girls, and went to the exit. You stepped out into the night air, which barely gave off the warmth of the asphalt heated during the day. It was summer outside, but night was cool.

You walked swaying slightly, and that stupid nausea didn't go away.

You spotted him right away.

Jungkook stood leaning on his bike, looking like he was on the cover of a magazine - a black leather jacket over a gray T-shirt that stretched over his lean body, dark jeans that were slightly worn, and chunky biker boots. He had his hood pulled down slightly over the back of his head, and his silver earrings and lower lip piercing glistened in the light of the sign.

Instinctively, you slowed down for a few seconds-not to look at him, no... just to collect yourself. So as not to give away that you are already burning from the inside from the mere sight of him. And the alcohol in your blood intensified the secret feelings that you usually hid.

His gaze immediately caught yours. And before his eyes met yours, they instantly ran all over your figure.

Today you chose a loose, short skirt made of thick, dark graphite-colored fabric, a white shirt with casually rolled up sleeves, and a black leather jacket on top. You wore chunky black platform boots that added a bit of daring. You put your hair in a loose bun, with a few strands in the front stretched out and falling over your face. Your makeup was light, with no lipstick.

Jungkook smiled slightly, but somehow... in his own way. This smile made you even more nervous.

"What, tiny, is the party so boring that you're going home at such a childish hour?" he called out, not hiding his pleasure at your appearance.

You walked over and stopped a few steps away from him. Your lips reflexively turned up in a smile similar to his.

"Oh, I'd hang out more, but I'm nauseous, and I don't think those cocktails are my kind of drink," you said. Jungkook gave a short laugh. His tongue touched the rings in his lip and you just couldn't help but stare at it. And Jungkook, in turn, glanced down at your skirt and slender legs.

"Will it be okay for you to ride on a bike in this?" he nodded his head at your legs, not taking his eyes off your hips. You looked down as if you had forgotten that you were wearing a short skirt. After evaluating it, you shrugged and said casually.

"Yeah, what's the big deal?"

Jungkook playfully raised one eyebrow and replied, still smiling.

"Aren't you afraid that half of Seoul will see your thong?"

You froze for a split second, caught off guard by his words. And then, accepting his another game, you answered.

"You know I wear a thong? Did you go through my wardrobe while I was away?"

Jungkook snorted slightly, tilting his head to the side, and slowly ran his fingers along the top edge of the bike seat, as if fighting hard not to answer even more brazenly.

"No, tiny, I just imagined..." he looked down at you, his eyes darkening slightly, "...and for some reason it's so easy for me."

This made you give him a fake angry look, but your cheeks gave you away - they were already covered with a hot blush that you couldn't hide even in the dim light of the night sky.

"You shouldn't fantasize so much, biker. Come on, take me home, I really feel suck," you muttered, trying not to smile, and at that moment you came closer to get on the bike.

You straightened your skirt a little, sat down carefully, trying to do it with as much dignity as possible-which, of course, was not easy in these conditions. But Jungkook gallantly reached out his hand, holding your waist, and said, coming close so that you could hear him clearly, over the noise of the cars and the chatter of people around the club.

"You know, if I weren't such a gentleman, I wouldn't be looking to the side right now. But I am a polite guy. Well, tonight."

"Polite?" you snorted, "That doesn't fit with your 'thong' comments."

"I have a multifaceted personality, don't forget, I'm a golden makne" he winked and, without taking his hands off your waist, handed you a helmet. "Put it on and hold on tight. Especially in the turns, and try not to get knocked out at the road."

"Then you should ride more calmly, not like you're going to kill me."

Jungkook bit his lip piercing as he smiled, then pulled his helmet over his head.

"I don't know what it's like to ride a bike 'calmly'. But if you suddenly feel nauseous, tell me and I'll stop," he said as he sat in front and started the bike. The powerful roar of the engine was loud and vibrated in your chest.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, and you felt the warmth of his body even through the layers of his clothes. The bike moved off, gently picking up speed.

You were already in your neighborhood. It was only a 10-minute ride home, but you felt like your head was spinning. Your stomach felt heavy and your nausea was getting worse. You hugged Jungkook tighter, wanting to rest your head on his shoulder or back, but you held yourself back. Your hands unconsciously clutched the fabric of his T-shirt, and suddenly, over the sound of the engine and the noise from road, you heard his voice.

"Hey, tiny, are you alive up there?" he notice you were getting sick.

"I dying, without showing any sign of it," you said as loud as you could so he could hear.

"Are you feeling sick? Should I stop?" he asked, and you felt that subtle concern that he could voice like no one else.

"I'm nauseous, but I don't think I'm going to vomit. I feel dizzy," you admitted. Jungkook did not answer. He pulled off the road into a narrow private-sector street and after driving for a while stopped at a convenience store.

Jungkook turned off the engine and put the bike on a kickstand. He took off his helmet, and his hair was tousled. Jungkook got off the bike and turned to you. Without a word, he took off your helmet and easily, almost weightlessly, as if it were absolutely forbidden, smoothed out your hair.

"Stay outside, I'll buy you some water," he said, hanging your helmet next on his.

"Won't the water make me sick?" you asked.

Jungkook blinked, and then started looking for something in his jacket pockets.

"Only if it is whiskey with the flavor of spring water," he said jokingly, and his voice calmed your inner panic a little.

He headed for the store, and you stayed siting on the bike, taking a few deep breaths. The air was humid, full of the smell of the night city, and somewhere far away from the horizon you heard a dull rumble of thunder.

You raised your head. Heavy, dark clouds began to gather over the rooftops, covering the moon. A light wind began to blow - not sharp, but already tangible enough to ruffle the strands of your hair that had fallen out of the bun. The city seemed to hold its breath for a moment, waiting for the downpour that was about to hit.

Jungkook walked out of the store at a brisk pace, holding a bottle of water, clear and pink in color. You immediately noticed the strawberries on the label. In his other hand he held a chewing gum with the same flavor.

"Here, drink this, it's cold. It will help reduce nausea." he said, handing you a bottle of soda with strawberry juice. You smiled slightly as you took the bottle. You took a few sips, watching as he sneaks a piece of gum into his pocket and pulls out a new pack of cigarettes.

He quickly lights a cigarette, shielding from squally wind. The flame lit his face for a moment, and you watched him stealily, fascinated, as he took the first deep drag and exhaled the smoke. His eyes slid over your face, as if to check if you were really feeling better.

"How are you feeling?" he asked briefly.

You took another sip and answered.

"I'm still a little dizzy," you answered honestly.

"We're going to sit for a while and I'm going to drive you home," he looked up as he heard another roll of thunder, "shit, it looks like it's going to rain, the main thing is to get you home before the storm starts, otherwise you'll be showing Seoul not only your thong but what's under your shirt." he smiled slyly and you rolled your eyes. Jungkook pressed the filter of his cigarette to his lips, and you couldn't ignore the gesture.

"Is it my thong that's bothering you so much?" you asked, sounding angry. Jungkook looked down at your skirt and then at you, exhaling a thick puff of smoke, and you felt the smell of tobacco fill your nostrils.

"You nailed it!" he said in a low voice, "what color are you wearing today?"

Jungkook caught you again, and for a moment you forgot how to breathe. It was hard to compose yourself right away, but you did.

"Really? You want to know what color my thong is?" you asked, your voice playful and protesting at the same time. Jungkook nodded, smiling cheekily. He shook off the ash, revealing the orange ring that was on the tip of his cigarette. "What do you think?" you asked again, instead of answering.

Jungkook shook his head, looking down at your legs again, which were peeking out from under your skirt, and then looked back up at you, taking another drag.

"I think... black," his voice was hoarse, from the smoke and that predatory smile on his lips. You laughed, shaking his head in denial. How did you both end up discussing the color of your thong? If Yoongi could hear you now, you'd both were killed.

"You’re wrong, I'm wearing white," you said. You took a sip of your soda and the taste of strawberries was pleasant on your tongue. Jungkook exhaled cigarette smoke, looking at you carefully. He did his best to hide the desire that shone in his eyes when you told him the color of your underwear. Jungkook wanted to check, he wasn't used to taking a word for it.

"Is your bra white too?" he asked.

"I'm not wearing a bra, I'm wearing a top," you said shortly.

Jungkook smiled at the very corners of his lips, and slowly, without rushing, took another drag. The cigarette in his fingers lit up again, and you couldn't stand it and looked away, hiding your smile.

"So, no clasps," he muttered, almost to himself, as if he was imagining pulling that top off of you.

You snorted, swallowing your laughter.

"Are you planning to smoke and voice your fantasies out loud for a long time, or shall we go?"

Jungkook threw away the cigarette butt and crushed it under the soles of his heavy boots. He took a strawberry-flavored gum from his pocket. He unpacked the package and took two pillows and put them in his mouth.

"Wants one?" he asked you innocently, coming up to you. You silently stretched out your hand, and your heart was pounding inside because he ignored your words about fantasizing in the hearing. You took the gum into your mouth and chewed it several times, not taking your eyes off the person who gave it to you. The sweet tease of strawberries - it seems to be his favorite flavor. Now you will always associate it with Jungkook.

Jungkook looked at you for a moment longer, and then his eyes shifted up above your head. His brows drew together slightly, and his face took on a tense expression. You heard a car pull into the parking lot. You wanted to check who Jungkook was looking at so intensely, but before you could turn your head, you felt Jungkook's hand on your knee. He pushed your legs apart and stood between them, taking your face in his hands.

You were frozen, not realizing what was happening. He leaned toward you, stopping his face a few centimeters from yours.

"Play along, tiny. Pretend we're a couple and kiss me as passionately as you can."

Before you could react or ask any questions, his lips were on yours. Hot, soft, moist, with a subtle flavor of strawberry gum and tobacco. Your whole body was hit by a wave of electricity, and it was as if fireworks went off in your head. His fingers held your face gently, as if you were something fragile, and the kiss... God, that kiss was something you dreamed about at night.

Your heart was pounding in your throat. You closed your eyes and moved forward, responding. The sound of thunder in the distance merged with what was happening in your body, with lightning under your skin, with a storm somewhere between your ribs.

When the store door opened and someone walked in, Jungkook pulled you even closer to him, as if you were really his. His fingers slid down to your neck, and he slowly broke the kiss without taking his eyes off you. Barely audible, his lips left yours, and you both froze for a moment. You quickly glanced toward the store and noticed two men dressed in police uniforms.

"What are you...?" you whispered, not yet fully recovered.

"Police, tiny. They like to look at my bike and my trunk... I'd could to talk to them today, but I have something under the seat they mustn’t see," his voice was calm, even a little hoarse after the kiss.

Your eyebrows flew up.

"Something... that they shouldn't see?" your voice trembled not from fear, but from the excitement that was surging through your body.

Jungkook leaned closer, and you felt his lips touch your neck. One kiss. Then another. Hot, slow, deliberate. Your body melted in his touch. His lips moved up - behind your ear - and something clicked inside you. Your legs felt like cotton wool, and at the same moment you felt him press his hips into you. His arousal was undeniable.

You barely forced yourself to speak.

"What exactly are you hiding under there... under the seat?" your voice was breathy, almost unlike your own. Jungkook's lips almost touched your ear as he mumbled.

"Unregistered weapon."

You almost screamed, something between surprise and adrenaline rush clenching your insides. But he kissed you again, this time more deeply, passionately, hungrily. His tongue rushed into your mouth, and his hands went to your hips. For a moment, everything disappeared - the sky, the thunder, the police... Everything but him.

When the police left the store, he continued to kiss you, and at some point he pulled away and whispered into your lips.

"Put your legs around me," you did as he asked without objection, thus pressing him closer. You felt his hard cock pressing into your wet pussy.

The policemen stood in the street and then got into their car and drove away. You don't know if they were looking at you or if they wanted to come, but the result was what Jungkook needed.

The police drove away, but he didn't even think about moving away from you. His body continued to press against yours, which was sitting on the bike seat. His eyes did not move away, they looked at you as if you were already his. Completely.

"What are you even doing? Why are you transferring an unregistered weapon?" you finally asked, not hiding the tremor in your voice. Now, not only from the kisses, but a lot of questions were bubbling up in your head.

Jungkook raised one eyebrow, smirking.

"You’re such a curious," he murmured, eyes flicking down to your lips. "Makes me wonder… are you just as curious when it comes to sex, hmm, darling?" His voice was soft, teasing — laced with a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. Yet you held his gaze.

"I am... very curious," you whispered, answering two questions at once. You gulped down the dry air, feeling the words tumble out of your mouth.

Jungkook laughed. Quietly, deeply, with that predatory note you recognized. He leaned in again, his lips almost touching yours as he murmured.

"Yoongi-huyng will probably throw me in front of a train... but, damn it, I want to fuck you so bad."

And at that moment, your skin burst into flames. The words hadn't even fully sunk in yet, and your body had already given itself away, with the throbbing in your lower abdomen, the heavy breathing, the dilated pupils.

"I want you to fuck me, too," you confessed, clutching his T-shirt in your hands. Jungkook thrust his hips, knocking the air out of your lungs, and then his lips brushed against yours. A quick, demanding kiss. He kissed you, tasting every pad of your lips.

"Where do you want me to take you - to my place or to yours?" his voice sounded hoarse, with a greedy note. His hands explored your thighs steadily, slowly. He had already made sure that you were wearing only a thin thong under your skirt, and it was driving him crazy.

"To yours," you answered, almost without thinking, just trusting your senses.

His eyes sparkled with fire. And although he didn't say anything, the smile that touched his lips was so... triumphant. As if he had just won the jackpot.

His house was nothing like you had imagined. You had always seen him as a rebel, a cocky, slightly poor biker who lived in some cheap apartment with peeling walls. But instead...

You were greeted by a spacious loft with panoramic windows, a concrete ceiling, modern lighting, and a collection of rare music records on the shelf. The kitchen looked like something out of a cooking show, and the bathroom looked like something out of a spa.

There was a huge leather sofa in the corner, and a half-wall-sized TV mounted on the wall.

You stood in the middle of the living room, genuinely surprised.

"You... live here... alone?"

Jungkook put his helmet on the side table, ran his hand through his hair, and nodded.

"Sometimes with Jimin. But he got his own place lately. So... alone."

You look around once more, feeling a kind of admiration build up inside you. This place was stylish, masculine, and... expensive. Very expensive.

"So it turns out you're rich?" you couldn't help but ask directly.

He took off his shoes, took off his jacket, and threw it somewhere else. He shrugged his shoulders as he turned to you, and then walked past to the kitchen. You also took off your outerwear, kicked off your shoes, and followed him.

"I'm not poor." he said, taking something from the fridge.

His eyes sparkled as he handed you a can of beer. You took it, but did not drink it. Your nausea hadn't gone away, and you didn't want to make yourself sick. You put the can down and looking around the kitchen.

Jungkook took three big gulps, savoring the taste of the beer out loud. He put the bottle on the table and slowly walked over to you. His hands touched your hips and then slid down to your waist. Before you knew it, you were between his body and the kitchen table. His breath was on your neck.

"You know..." he murmured, almost casually, but with that special masculine note that made everything inside you shrink. "I've been thinking... Yoongi-hyung is watching you like the apple of his eye. And as far as I know, he doesn't let anyone else get near you."

You squeezed his shoulders slightly, giving him access to your neck. He touched your skin and the throbbing between your legs intensified.

"So?" You sighed, enjoying his kisses. He lightly bit your skin, leaving a mark, and then licked the place where he bit.

Jungkook pulled away from your neck and came closer to your lips. He bit your lips briefly and then asked.

"So... did you have something with someone?"

Before you could recover from his question, he kissed you again. This time with his tongue. He pressed his leg between yours, making you more and more excited. Your thigh felt his hard cock.

"It was," you replied as he reluctantly parted your lips. He raised one eyebrow and asked breathing directly into your lips. His palms went down to your hips and up your skirt. He found your buttocks and squeezed them hard.

"Who?" he asked, quietly, with undisguised curiosity in his voice. "Who was your first?"

Jungkook pulled up the edge of your thong and you unconsciously held your breath. This is really happening. And Jungkook is definitely going to fuck you tonight.

"Junho," you answered as quietly as he did, as if you might wake someone up.

"Was that the basketball player?" he asked as he with wrapped the elastic of your underwear around his finger.

"That's him, the one I introduced to Yoongi-oppa when you all came to our party."

He slowly began to pull your thong down. You were breathing fast and raggedly. It was hard to control yourself. He pulled your panties up to the top of your thighs, and then they fell down to your ankles. Jungkook stepped back half a step and looked down.

"Really white," he said with a smile, and then almost instantly turned to you, pressing his body against you again. "He was lucky to take your virginity, it was my wish," Jungkook admitted. His hand slowly went back under your skirt. You could feel the cool air caressing your wet folds. And then his fingers touched them. He parted your labia and pressed on your clit.

You closed your eyes, holding back a moan. He moved his fingers, smearing your wetness. His fingers dipped into your passage, making you moan against his lips. He smiled against your lips, pleased with your reaction.

"How many times did he fucks you?" Jungkook asked you. He fucked you with his finger, asking you about your first and so far only sexual partner. You didn't understand why he wanted to know, but you saw no reason not to answer.

"I don't know..." you said, your breath ragged and your mouth dry. "A few times."

Jungkook added another finger and plunged them deeper into you. He pressed his lips to your neck, kissing it so that he would definitely leave marks. You felt a slight stab of pain as he sucked on your tender neck.

"Did you like it? Was he good in bed?"

Your eyebrows knit together slightly, fighting the sensations of Jungkook's fingers and lips. You still didn't understand why he was asking you about Junho.

"I liked it, but I never came from his cock, only from his fingers and tongue," you answered honestly. Your cheeks were rosy pink with growing excitement, but it got even hotter when Jungkook turned to you with a surprised expression. He stopped his fingers that were deep inside you. His gaze was frozen on your face. You stood in the semi-darkness of the kitchen, both of you breathing rapidly, heavily. His fingers were still inside you, hot, strong.

"Not even once?" he wondered, with a hint of shock and disbelief, as if he couldn't believe that someone could touch you and not made you come .

"Yes..." you repeated, barely audible, unable to withstand his gaze. And then he stretched out his fingers, licked one slowly, without taking his eyes off yours, and then he scoffed softly, it made your skin crawl:

"I guess I'll be your first real..."

His lips touched yours with a new eagerness, not like before. He kissed you with hunger, with fury, with a promise that made your heart skip a beat. His arms tightened around your waist again, lifting you up lightly, and your buttocks felt the cold edge of the kitchen table.

He spread your legs, pulling up your skirt so that your pussy was in his field of vision. His eyes slid down your body, slowly, as if he wanted to memorize every detail. Then he leaned down to your breast and lightly bit your nipple through your clothes. Your breathless moan escaped your lips before you could think.

"I want you to come looking me in the eye," he whispered, raising his head, "so you remember who it was with for the first time for real."

You clenched around his shoulders as he plunged fingers into you again - steady, precise. This time, the rhythm was ruthless, each stroke exactly where you felt the most pleasure. With his free hand, he pulled off his T-shirt, and you saw the muscles on his chest play. He was beautiful. Perfectly.

"I'm going to make you forget his name," he whispered as you drowned in his kisses again.

He sank even lower, as if worshipping you. His breath burned your most sensitive spot, and you shivered. He put his hands on your hips.

Jungkook took his time. At first, his lips just touched your folds, barely. Then again. And then again. His tongue slid between the folds-slowly, insistently-forcing you to arch toward him. He played with your aroused clit, which ached with throbbing. But as soon as his tongue pressed lightly, the pain gave way to pleasure.

Jungkook sucked on your center and as he tongued you in, you thought you were going to go crazy. You arched to meet him, moaning above his head.

Jungkook let go of your clit, but he didn't go far away. Your pussy was right in front of his face.

"Fuck, you're so sweet, tiny, if I'd known earlier, I wouldn't have let that Junho touch you. I’m took you all to myrself," he said, looking up at you. You smiled, but it was more shy. You wouldn't have minded if he took you before Junho did, either.

Jungkook slammed into your center again, and you moaned as you felt the orgasm coming. But your sweet moans were interrupted by a ringing phone. Your phone was ringing in the jacket you'd left at the door. You fidgeted, clutching Jungkook's hair on hand.

"It's probably... Yoongi-oppa," you assumed, breathing heavily. "I can't... if he hears my voice..." you were panting from Jungkook's skill and about to come. He let go of your pussy and straightened up of you. You were disappointed that Jungkook didn't finish what he started. Your phone stopped ringing.

"If it was him, he'll call me now," Jungkook said as he licked his lips with the remnants of your cum. As soon as he finished his sentence, his phone rang in the back pocket of his jeans. Jungkook walked over to you, bit your lips. He pulled out his phone. Your brother's name was over the screen: "Yoongi-hyung." Jungkook picked up the phone.

"Yoongi-ya?" his voice was fun. He touched your clit, caressing it. You bit your lip, and squeezed his shoulders, stopping yourself from moaning.

"Jungkook-ah, where are you?" your brother's voice was clearly audible through the speaker of Jungkook's phone. You had to be very quiet.

"At home, Hyung, what happened?"

"Did you bring Y/N home? I've been calling her for a while and she's not picking up," your brother was worried. You fought the oncoming orgasm. Yoongi's voice made you feel like a criminal. Jungkook was caressing your clit without regret, and he spoke as if he hadn't done what he was doing now.

"I dropped her off half an hour ago. She was a little pale, she said she was going to sleep." Jungkook lied looking at you and smiling silently. You bit lip that your brother wouldn't hear you, because you were on the verge. "I think she's just sleeping."

"Thank you. It seems she really to be sleeping, I'll call her in the morning. What about you?"

"Oh, I was going to rest," Jungkook continued his lie. You couldn't hold back any longer, and with a few strokes of his fingers, you came on Jungkook's finger. He felt your clit twitching and squeezed it between his two fingers, prolonging your orgasm.

"Did you get the goods?" asked Yoongi. You were under the wave of orgasm and didn't immediately pay attention to your brother's question.

"Yes, I did. It's in my trunk, I'll go show Namjoon tomorrow," Jungkook replied. Before you could recover from your orgasm, you felt Jungkook plunge his fingers into your passage, but this time not two but three. You felt the pressure on your walls, almost moaning.

"Okay, kid, let me know tomorrow what Namjoon says, good night." Jungkook said goodbye and hung up the phone, and then leaned over to you, almost touching your lips.

"You've been so quiet, I'm proud of you. But now..." His eyes lit up. "Now you're going to come around my cock, tiny, and I promise you it's going to be more than once."

He picked you up in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his buttocks, touching his aroused cock with your bare pussy.

His eyes, slightly blurred, burning, never left yours. Jungkook kissed you, and he didn't care about watching the road at all, he knew exactly where he was going.

"Does Oppa know about the guns, too?" you asked when he pulled away from your lips. He stopped at the bedside. He lowered you to the floor and without wasting a second began to undress you.

"He knows," he undid the buttons on your shirt, "everyone knows." he meaning everyone in their company.

You put your hands on his hips, watching him fumble with each button.

"Why do you have these weapons? Are you selling them?"

Jungkook stopped for a moment, taking your chin in his hand.

"You're asking the wrong question again, let's channel your curiosity in a different direction." He took off your shirt and then your top, white, just like you said, exposing your breasts. Goosebumps covered your body as he touched one of your breasts and played with his tongue. After biting your sensitive bud, he straightened up. You felt the wetness between your legs increase.

"Did you give Junho a blow job?" Jungkook asked suddenly. You looked between his eyes, frightened. Your heart was beating fast, promising to jump out of your chest.

"No," you answered, holding back the trembling inside, "I didn't." Jungkook smiled with satisfaction. There was something gleeful in that smile.

"Why, he didn't suggest you?" Jungkook stroked your cheek, and then his thumb touched your lips. He pressed lightly, imagining those plump, pink lips, the color of the strawberries he loved so much, enveloping his cock.

"He did, I was just afraid," you admitted, looking down. Jungkook ran his finger along your lower lip.

"Why were you afraid?" his voice was husky, burning, and yet almost gentle. Without taking his eyes off you, Jungkook ran his finger from your lower lip to your chin. His eyes followed every emotion that passed through your face. You sighed, feeling like your body was caught between shame and arousal.

"I didn't trust him that much..." your voice was barely audible.

In response, Jungkook smiled again-slowly, confidently, with the shadow of a winner who had finally received the trophy he had long wanted. His hand slid down, touching your body again, as if to check if you were still breathing.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, and at the same moment he leaned over to you, touching your forehead. Your skin was burning and your breathing was ragged. He knew that he had already read the answer in your eyes, even before you nodded silently.

Without wasting a second, Jungkook pulled you close to him, his hands holding your buttocks tightly. He leaned down to your ear, and his hot whisper made you shiver.

"Then show me, tiny, how much you trust me..."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling you down with him, and you knelt in front of him, your eyes on the undone waistband of his jeans. Your heart was pounding, your throat was dry, but inside you burned with something more than fear - desire, fierce, uncontrollable.

Your trembling fingers undid the buttons on his pants as he watched you free him from tight boxers, your eyes locked on how aroused he was. His cock was big, his purple tip was dripping with cum and you curious what it was like on a taste. You had never given a blowjob before, but with Jungkook, it was like you knew what to do next.

Instead of saying anything, you licked your lips, swallowing the dryness in your mouth, and looked up to meet his gaze, full of hunger.

"Don't take it all, you might trigger a gag reflex. Breathe deeply through your nose, and open your mouth wide so you don't accidentally bite down," Jungkook instructed. His hand was on the back of your head, gently but insistently guiding you forward.

It was no longer about tenderness. It was about thirst. It was about years of desire that no one had fulfilled. About the thirst that had been building up and now exploding.

You took his cock in your hand and touched it with your lips. You kissed it lightly and then touched the head with your tongue. It was velvety with the salty taste of cum. You opened your mouth and took him not all the way in.

You felt his breathing become labored. His fingers lightly squeezed your hair, but didn't guide it, just held it, as if trying to keep it on the surface while a wave of pleasure engulfed him.

You moved your head, feeling his cock getting harder on your tongue. Your saliva mixed with his cum and dripped down through the corners of your lips. Jungkook moaned, throwing his head back. He enjoyed your friendly, warm mouth sucking him so well. He turned his head toward you and couldn't believe that his fantasy had become a reality.

He had wanted to fuck you for a long time, and he knew from the very beginning of your acquaintance that he would do it, even with Yoongi's forbidding. And when he noticed how you reacted to him, how your cheeks would turn pink every time he made a joke about you, he knew it wouldn't be a problem.

He just had to choose the right moment. But when a few weeks ago at the Busan festival, you accidentally put on his shirt and he saw you in it, his mind just boiled over. You were too sexy in it, and your expression, so shy and nervous, made his cock twitch in his pants.

Tonight, when Yoongi called and asked to pick you up from the club because he couldn't because he was away, Jungkook already knew this was a chance he couldn't miss. And when he saw how you were dressed, there was no doubt that he was going to fuck you. The police who came to the convenience store only helped him. Jungkook killed two birds with one stone: he got you and got rid of the cops' attention.

He looked at you, your lips running over his cock, and went a little crazy with pleasure. He fucking needed to destroy you for not being his for so long.

Jungkook stopped you. He pulled his cock out of that mouth and leaned over to you.

"The blowjob lesson will have to end because I really want to fuck your tight pussy."

He put you on your feet and found the zipper on your skirt and unzipped it. The skirt fell to the floor, gathering around your legs. While he was undressing you, you used your hand to wipe away the traces of his cum on your chin and lips.

Jungkook pulled you down on top of him. You sat on his cock, pressing your back against his strong chest. His hard cock rested against your buttocks. He wrapped his arms around you and put his lips to your ear. His hot breath hit your skin.

"Do you want it with a condom or without?"

"I've never done it without..." you said, and wanted to continue that of course it would be with a condom, but Jungkook suddenly squeezed you tighter in his arms.

"Tiny, you've been challenging me today. You didn't cum from a cock, and you didn't have a sex without condom..." his voice squeezed you from the inside as much as his hug. Deaf, low, with that special intonation that sounds not in your ears, but in your skin.

You could feel his skin on yours. His warmth. His presence. The way he was leaning into you only increased your thirst - not physical, but deeper. A thirst to surrender to this moment completely, to drown in it without a trace.

He ran his lips along your jaw, down to your neck. His tongue slid over the throbbing point at your throat, and you knew he could feel your heart beating fast.

"So... how do I do it with you, huh?" he asked as his palms slid down your hips, slowly, steadily. His eyes swallowed you, shamelessly and greedily. "Show you how it feels when there are no barriers? When pleasure consumes you without a trace?" he bit your ear.

You saw no point in resisting or saying no, even though you had never had unprotected sex. You trusted Jungkook, and you didn't know why. Why you wanted to surrender to him completely without any obstacles or rules. You wanted him for too long to set any boundaries.

"I want to..." you finally said confidently, "destroyed me Jungkook, I'm completely yours."

Jungkook froze, and then taking your face turned it to his, your eyes met: one hungry, the other submissive.

"Don't tell me those words, tiny, or I'll can’t stopped," his voice was low with dangerously overtones. You smiled, licking your dry lips.

"Destroyed…I've been waiting for this for so long," you admitted to him. His eyes darkened and he didn't need your words anymore. He kissed you, plunging his tongue into your mouth. He kissed you so hard that your insides trembled, and your lower abdomen was filled with the sensation of butterflies, which seemed to be thousands.

"Hold on now. You’ve asked for it." And next moment Jungkook lifted you up a little higher, and you felt your body holding its breath in anticipation. Jungkook put the head of his cock against your entrance and it stretched your entrance. There was only a thin line between you, and Jungkook was slowly but surely erasing it.

He plunged in and out of you slowly, stretching your walls. You bit your lip in pain, holding back your cries of pain. He stopped, holding your waist, and then one sharp, short movement and you sank down on his cock, screaming in pain. You sat on him, filled to the brim with Jungkook's cock.

"Fuck..." he cursed into your neck, pressing his head against yours, "you're so tight, I can barely contain myself..."

Your chest rose and fell. Jungkook took you by the waist and lifted you up a few centimeters, then lowered you again, the pain pulsing through you again.

As you became one, you realized how closely and deeply you were now connected. Jungkook moved his hips, and the movement did not give off as much pain.

"Can you feel it?" he whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Yes," you sighed. You instinctively moved your hips to create the friction you needed. Jungkook moaned slightly, and you wanted to hear it again. You wiggled on his hips, feeling how wonderful he was moaning behind you and how nice it was to have his cock inside you.

You started to move, cautiously, trying to feel your body take him deeper, get used to him. Every movement you made was a new touch, a new discovery. Jungkook remained motionless, only his breathing was ragged, his fingers squeezing your thighs, leaving hot marks.

"That's it..." he whispered. His voice was hoarse, as if trapped somewhere deep in his throat.

His palms slid down your thighs, squeezed them, digging his nails into the flesh. And from that moment on, he began to move with you - deeper, more confident, each time blurring the line between pain and pleasure.

He kissed you everywhere he could reach - your neck, shoulders, back. Each touch made you clench your fingers on his palms, which you put on top of his, that were on your hips. You bit your lip to muffle the moans that were escaping you uncontrollably.

And then you felt something shrinking inside you. Like this wave was coming - hot, uncontrollable, so long-awaited. When it hit, you lost touch with reality. Jungkook held you tightly, whispering something completely incomprehensible. You felt dizzy and your cheeks went numb. Jungkook lifted you up and walked out. His hard cock rested against your back and you were both breathing heavily. You felt your entrance colliding in the aftertaste of the orgasm Jungkook had brought you to with his cock. It was a feeling that could not be described in words, it was as if you had been in heaven.

"You squeezed my cock so hard I thought you were going to strangle me," Jungkook praised you as he held you close. You smiled, breathing heavily. You suddenly felt tired. "You came from cock, congratulations, tiny" he joked.

"You should bought a medal for that," you joked back. His laughter vibrated around your neck. He gave you a few short kisses and then pulled you onto the bed. You fell on your back, pressed against him. His face was a few centimeters away.

"One for you, and now the other for the two of us." He leaned down, touched your lips briefly, kissing you deeper, longer, more drawn out.

His body was over yours again. He knelt down and pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, and entered a little rougher than the first time, impatiently. You felt him inside you - familiar, but completely different.

He lay down on top of you, pressing his strong, pumped-up body against yours, tender and fragile. He touched your lips as if to soothe you. Jungkook began to move, grabbing your arms and lifting them above your head. His movements were slow, heavy, and deep at first. It was as if he wanted you to memorize every inch, every friction.

You moaned - softly, barely audible. But after several strong movements you couldn't hold back any longer. Your hands clutched his palms, digging your nails into his skin, your legs intertwined on his buttocks.

"You're so..." he didn't finish the sentence. He just entered you deeper, pressing your hips into the bed. His forehead touched yours. "I can feel you so much, tiny... you take me so well."

Your body throbbed - again. He sped up his movements. Sharper, faster. He seemed to be reaching your uterus. You were about to have a second orgasm, different from the first. It was burning, it was like a discharge - it was a hot wave that covered you irreversibly. You bent to meet it, as if asking for more.

"Jungkook..." you groaned, gasping for air.

At the end he allowed himself to indulge in pleasure. His movements became deeper, almost animalistic, but not rough. He was inside you completely, completely merged with you - and when you closed your eyes, when the wave hit you for the second time, you could hardly hear yourself - only his moan, deaf and low, escaping from your throat.

"Fuck..." he whispered, squeezing you with all his might. His body trembled like a stretched string and he barely managed to get out of you. He let go of your arms, lifted up on his knees and came on your stomach. You felt warm semen spilling out on your hot body.

You were both breathing heavily as if you had run a marathon. You could barely move. Your body felt equal parts pleasure, fatigue, and pain. Jungkook got off from you lying down next to you. He was sweating, just like you. A few strands of hair clung to his forehead.

"Are you alive?" he asked, kissing your temple. You gulped, feeling your throat dry.

"Yes, give me some water, please" you asked. Jungkook smiled and got out of bed. He didn't even try to cover himself. He went to the kitchen and came back a minute later with a bottle of cold water and paper towels. You tried not to look at his crotch, but your eyes kept going back there.

Jungkook sat down next to you and handed you the bottle of water, and you unscrewed it and began to drink greedily, as if you had never seen it before. He laughed, and while you drank the water, he wiped you clean of the remnants of his sperm.

"You bled a little," he said when he saw the blood on the white sheet. You raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" you asked, steadying your breath. You looked between your legs and saw a small red spot.

"Yes, so you can really consider me your first man," Jungkook said, throwing the napkins he was using to wipe you down and leaning down to your lips. You looked at his lips and smiled.

"Now that status is officially yours."

Jungkook pecked your lips. He ran his fingers down your thigh and asked softly:

"Does it hurt?"

"A little," you admitted, slightly embarrassed. "But it's a nice pain..." He smiled softly, touching your temple with his nose.

"Let's go to the bathroom, I'll run you some warm water." he suggested.

"I don't have the energy, maybe in the morning?" you whimpered.

"No, tiny, it has to be done now," you grumbled something incomprehensible and turned on your side, burying your face in the pillow. Jungkook laughed softly and leaned over to kiss your shoulder.

"I'll carry you if I have to. Don't test me."

You gathered your strength, stood up, covered with a blanket, and followed him. He turned on the water, checked the temperature with his palm, threw some relaxing salt into the tub, and turned to you while the bath was filling.

"Did you like it?" he came over, taking the edge of the blanket, but not yet tucking it in. You looked at him, holding the blanket closer to your chest, as if trying to protect yourself from his scrutiny, but your smile ruined everything-so soft, so shy, so real.

"That's a stupid question..." you said. "It was... more than amazing."

Jungkook's eyes sparkled. He took a step closer, his fingers gently touching your chin.

"I'm glad. And I'll be even happier if you stop being hidden of your body in front of me."

"I'm not... hidden..." you mumbled, clutching the blanket tighter.

"Yeah, you are. Then why are you holding this blanket so tightly?" he grinned predatory, grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it off of you.

"Jungkook!" you squeaked, managing to cover your chest with your hands, but he was already looking at you as if he had never seen you before-enthusiastically, carefully, with a kind of reverent respect.

"You're beautiful," he said, not looking away and taking your hands from your breasts, "Just... damn beautiful."

Your skin was covered with goosebumps. There was something special about the way he looked at you - no rush, no lust. Only admiration.

The water in the tub finally filled up. He helped you climb in, and then just sat down next to you, leaning his back against the wall, keeping his eyes on you.

"Tomorrow morning..." you began, looking into the water, "You'll take me home early. I don't know what time Yoongi-oppa is supposed to be back. So you have to leave before he gets home... and you know he can't find out, or we'll both be dead."

"I know," Jungkook nodded. "But I'm not sorry. Even if I knew he was going to kill me, I would have done it anyway."

You smiled as you put your head down on the edge of the tub.

"That's the scariest and most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

"I have plans for you, tiny, so don't think it's over," he encouraged you, and your heart skipped a beat.

"What other plans do you have Mr. Suicide?"

Jungkook smiled, and his gaze grew even deeper-almost dark, yet so seductively gentle that it made your skin crawl.

He slowly leaned down to you, so that his lips barely touched your ear, and whispered with that special tone that made you feel as if you were in a heat wave:

"I can't tell you everything at once... Otherwise, where is the intrigue?" His fingers slid gently over your collarbone and then stopped right above your heart. "But one thing I can say for sure... You made a mistake by giving me permission to enter your life, tiny. Because I don't plan on leaving."

He stepped back a centimeter to see your reaction, but he didn't let you answer, just winked slyly and stood up, stretching.

"Now just relax."

"Are you leaving already?" you asked, a little upset.

"If I stay, you'll be fucked for the third time, and I'm afraid you won't be able to take it, my tender one" he threw over his shoulder, walking to the exit. You smiled, marveling at his insatiability. The door closed behind him, and you slowly lowered your body under the water, leaving your head above the surface. There were a thousand and one thoughts in your head, but every single one of them was about him - Jungkook.

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fangharel · 3 months ago

Text

we need to talk about The Silence and The Song

[PLEASE READ] edit to add: i realise that this post has been reblogged far and wide and that there is not a lot i can do about it now, but this is me trying anyway.

posting examples from the fic about my issues with its repetitive structure was careless of me, and i apologise to those of you who read it and became insecure about your own writing style. as someone who has worked with ai in academic settings, it's incredibly difficult for me to explain to you how the tone and structure of ai-generated fiction works and how, after reading enough of it, you can simply just tell. i do also realise that this is an incredibly weak argument, which is why i didn't include it when i originally wrote this post.

all that to say: there is an enormous difference between "beginner's writing" and ai writing. being repetitive as a new writer (or a seasoned one who just likes using repetition) is so normal. as is flowery/purple language. i've read hundreds of books and fics and the difference between these traits in ai-text and actual works is starkly clear. please don't feel anxious over the examples i've used in this post.

again, i apologise for any distress i have caused.

as per my last post, i have received a lot of encouragement to go public with this, and the more disappointed people i have in my dms, the angrier i get. so i will.

the silence and the song is an ancient arlathan au DA fic on ao3 by luxannaslut, and it is partly, if not entirely, written by an ai. i have no wish to be involved in any kind of fandom drama or witch hunting or bullying, but as a writer myself there are few things that piss me off more than watching people steal the work of others because they can't be fucked to write. it's disrespectful to your fellow writers, it's disrespectful to your readers, and it's disrespectful to the authors of the works the ai is stealing from.

ai is a plague that has no business being in creative spaces and you must do better.

the writing pattern

there was something very odd and monotone about the sentence structure of tsats that i couldn't quite place, so i fed chatgpt a prompt along the lines of "two people in a fantasy novel hate each other, but they secretly desire one another, and they kiss", and the screenshots above are the results. the third one is an excerpt from chapter 40 of tsats. the writing pattern is identical and it doesn't seem like the "writer" has even bothered to pretend they wrote it. if you're going to use ai, at least be sneaky about it. you know, paraphrase a little.

nonsense descriptions

"her nimble fingers worked with quiet precision" (ct. 1), "his grip firm but tender" (ct. 33), "her gown pooling around her like embers" (ct. 1).

fingers don't make sound, so what does quiet precision mean? as opposed to what? her joints cracking with every movement? how is a grip firm but tender? what does that mean? since when do embers pool?

the entire fic is littered with these adjectives that contradict each other or just straight up do not make sense, because all an ai does is generate descriptive language with no understanding of what the words it's spitting out actually mean. i could spend hours picking out examples from the seven billion pages worth of text, but i quite frankly have better things to do and would simply challenge you to try getting through a chapter or two without noticing the pattern.

repetition at structure-level

all the scenes in this fic are described in pretty much the same way. they open with purple prose vomit of the surroundings; solas is standing somewhere looking "unreadable as ever"; ellana's fiery golden molten fire copper ember ginger red hair is flowing this and that way; there's some dialogue with whoever is present and it leaves ellana feeling different variations of "something she couldn't name". this is, once again, a blatantly obvious sign of ai. below is the result of me feeding chatgpt the line "write me a scene from a fantasy novel where a woman with red hair is sitting on the ground in a magical garden at night", and side by side with that is the opening scene of the fic. make your own judgement.

repetition at word-level

this one speaks for itself. we fucking get it. her dress is orange, her hair is red, mythal's presence is heavy in the room, solas looks unreadable, compassion is sitting on her head like a crown, solas' ears are betraying him and ellana's move with every thought she thinks. we get it. the issue here is that an ai remembers the info you feed it, but not necessarily the info it shits out. if it's being told to write scene after scene of an elven woman with a gown that looks like fire doing xyz, it's going to do so with no regard for how many times the reader has already been informed of these details.

lastly: the breakneck speed

359,6k words in four weeks by a person who allegedly is employed and married and hasn't pre-written anything? no. any writer will tell you that this simply isn't possible. it absolutely infuriates me to see how much praise this "writer" gets for posting up to three full chapters in a day without anyone calling bullshit. i am pulling out my hair, you guys.

why i'm not going to live and let live this one

perhaps i would be less angry if the fic was some silly bullshit court intrigue Y/A stuff, but this is a text that handles very heavy and triggering topics such as SA, coercion, domestic abuse, and other things of the same vein. to sit back and put your feet up while having a robot write these extremely sensitive and very real human experiences with words it has stolen from texts written by actual persons is fucking heinous. the "writer" should be deeply ashamed of themselves and i'm sick and tired of watching people eat up their bs.

and on that note: the amount of people in my dm's telling me that they feel stupid and naive for not clocking this has infuriated me more than anything else. you're not foolish for this. being fed ai-generated bullshit is not what is supposed to happen on any creative platform and much less a fandom-centred one, so of course no one approaches a fic through that lens. fandom and fic writing is supposed to be about passion and the only person in this situation who needs to do better and change their behaviour is luxannaslut. polluting our creative spaces, wasting the time of your readers, and minimising the effort of actual writers who are working hard to provide content for us all to share and enjoy is vile and so, so lazy. i beg of you: do better.

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harrysfolklore · 2 months ago

Note

So since the Oscars are happening next week I wanted to ask if you could please write something about charles leclerc and actress!reader where she's been nominated many many times before but never won (kind of like saoirse ronan) but this time she finally breaks the curse and win her first Oscar and Charles being just proud husband

u know you can always count on me for a charles x famous!reader fic and honestly i loved this one 🥺 i hope you like ittt

The Dolby Theatre buzzes with anticipation as you sit between Charles and your co-star. This scene is familiar - the sixth time you've been nominated, the same butterfly-inducing wait during the Best Actress category. Your first nomination came when you were just twenty-three, and now at thirty, you've earned the title of 'most nominated actress without a win.'

Charles has been there for four of those nominations, watching you smile gracefully through each loss. You remember how devastated he was last year - more than you, even - when you lost for what critics had called 'the performance of the decade.' He'd held you all night, whispering about how the Academy didn't deserve you anyway.

Tonight, though, feels different. Maybe it's the way Charles keeps pressing soft kisses to your temple, or how he hasn't stopped playing with your wedding ring - a nervous habit he picked up during particularly tense races.

"Mon coeur," he whispers as the Best Actor category wraps up, "no matter what happens, you're already the winner in my eyes. But tonight... tonight feels like magic, no?"

You're gripping Charles's hand so tightly you might be cutting off his circulation, but he doesn't seem to mind. Your heart is pounding as Emma Stone opens the envelope on stage, the same way it has during the previous ceremonies where you'd left empty-handed despite the nominations.

Charles leans closer, his lips brushing your ear. "I'm proud of you, no matter what happens," he whispers, his thumb stroking soothing circles on your hand.

"And the Academy Award for Best Actress in a Leading Role goes to..."

Charles's grip tightens imperceptibly. You feel him holding his breath alongside you.

"YN!"

For a moment, you're frozen. The applause sounds distant, like you're underwater. Then you feel Charles's hands on your face, see his beaming smile through your blur of tears.

"You did it, mon coeur!" he exclaims, his own eyes glistening as he pulls you into a kiss. "You finally did it!"

You're trembling as you stand, Charles helping you up. He's looking at you the way he does after winning a race - no, even more intensely than that. Like you've just won every championship in existence.

The walk to the stage feels surreal. You can hear the announcement echoing: "This is YN's sixth nomination and first win..." Through your tears, you see the standing ovation, catch glimpses of familiar faces who've been on this journey with you.

Your hands shake as you accept the Oscar, its weight both foreign and familiar after years of dreaming about this moment. You take a deep breath, looking out at the sea of faces until you find those green eyes that have been your anchor through every high and low.

"Wow," you begin, your voice trembling. "They say sixth time's the charm, right?" The audience laughs warmly. "I've had this speech written in my head since I was a little girl playing pretend with my mom's hairbrush, but now that I'm here, those words don't seem enough."

You pause, gathering yourself. "To the Academy - thank you for not giving up on me. To my incredible director who trusted me with this role that scared me as much as it thrilled me. To my amazing co-stars who pushed me to dig deeper, be braver."

Your eyes find Charles again, who's watching you with such pure adoration it makes your heart swell. "To my husband, who has sat through more award shows than F1 races this year so far, who runs lines with me even though he says my accent is better than his, who believes in me more than I believe in myself - ti amu. You've watched me practice acceptance speeches in our kitchen, held me through the disappointments, and somehow made me feel like a winner every single time. You told me once that in racing, it's not about how many times you don't make the podium, it's about never stopping until you do. Well, my love, we finally made it to the top step."

You can see Charles openly crying now, nodding proudly through his tears. "To my parents who let their little girl dream big, to my team who've been with me through every 'maybe next year,' to every young actor who's been told 'not yet' - keep going. Your time will come."

Looking down at the golden statue in your hands, you smile through your tears. "And finally, to every person who's ever felt like they're always the runner-up, who's heard 'better luck next time' so many times they've lost count - this is for you. Because sometimes the longest waitings lead to the sweetest victories. Thank you, thank you so much."

Later, at the Vanity Fair after-party, Charles hasn't let go of your Oscar once. He's been carrying it around, showing it off more proudly than any of his race trophies.

"My wife," he keeps saying to everyone who'll listen, his accent thick with emotion, "she's brilliant, no? I told everyone she would win. I knew it."

"Charles," you laugh, watching him polish the statue with his pocket square for the third time. "You're going to wear it out."

"Non, I'm protecting it. It's very precious." He looks at you with those soft green eyes. "Like you."

You lean into his side, feeling the familiar warmth of his arm around your waist. "You know what this means, right? Now we both have something gold to polish obsessively."

He chuckles, finally setting the Oscar down to pull you closer. "Oui, but unlike my trophies, this one was a long time coming." His expression softens. "You deserved this years ago, mon coeur."

"Well," you say, straightening his bowtie, "someone once told me that the sweetest victories are the ones you have to fight for."

"Sounds like a wise man," he grins.

"He's alright," you tease. "Bit of a show-off though. Keeps trying to steal my Oscar's spotlight."

Charles laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Never. Tonight is all yours, my love. Though..." he adds with a mischievous glint in his eye, "I might need to win another race soon. Can't have you being the only champion in the household."

You reach up to wipe a smudge of your lipstick from his cheek. "Race you to the next gold trophy?"

"Deal," he says softly, pulling you into a proper kiss. "But you've already won the most important race."

"Oh? Which one is that?"

His smile is tender as he touches his forehead to yours. "The race to my heart."

"That was terrible," you laugh, but you're already pulling him closer.

"Terrible but true," he murmurs against your lips. "Now, shall we go home? I need to practice my 'proud husband watching his wife's Oscar-winning performance' face for when we rewatch your movie for the hundredth time."

"You love that movie."

"I love you," he corrects.

And as you watch him carefully wrap your award in his suit jacket for the journey home, you think that maybe this victory is sweeter than you imagined - not because of the golden statue, but because of the golden heart beside you who never stopped believing it would happen.

#charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fake instagram #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc fanfiction #harrysfolklore #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #cl16 x reader #cl16 fanfic

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wonustars · 1 year ago

Text

𝘚𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘭 '𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴

“𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶” - 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘦’𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩

𖧧 pairing: choi seungcheol x afab!reader 𖧧 wordcount: 23.5k words

𖧧 reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you ^~^

𖧧 genre: best friends to friends with benefits to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, smut (mdni 18+)

𖧧 summary: all it took was one kiss and suddenly you and Seungcheol’s friendship has turned upside down. 𖧧 In other words: exploring how far the boundaries of your lifelong friendship can take the two of you, you and Seungcheol try to navigate what it's like to be friends with benefits. just because you're secrelty in love with each other won't fuck everything up...right?

𖧧 tags: bsf!seungcheol, nonidol!au, rich!seungcheol, middleclass!reader, sml!wonwoo, jealous!cheol, possesive!cheol, mutual pining, SLOW BURN, ANGST, both mc's are heavily in denial, lotssss of miscommunication and misunderstandings, they are one year apart, jeonghan is the only sane person, hoshi is a clingy drunk, mona eisa makes an appearance!, its such a cliche story but i love it, they make bad decsions when theyre 'h' word... 𖧧 smut tags/warnings: dom!scoups, sub!reader, multiple smut scenes, p in v unprotected sex, semi-public sex (sorry), slight mutal intoxicated sex in the first smut scene, choking, slapping, multiple positons, oral (f. receiving), fingering, creampie, praise and degradation, pet names (baby, angel, princess, love).

𖧧 note: finally... its here. im sorry for the long wait :"). i thought i was only going to do 10k words but i got carried way. i want to thank @mysafehaneul who helped me with editing this story as well as my two irl friends who brainstormed ideas with me through out the writing process <3. if i've missed any tags/warnings please dont be afraid to lmk! anyways,,, im excited because this thing is my baby, i hope you enjoy! your thoughts and comments are always welcome :') leave me a comment or ask if you want~

As long as you can remember, Seungcheol and you have been attached to the hip. Even though he was a year older than you, you couldn’t remember the last time you spent a day without him, starting all the way from the young, bright age of 5, when you and your family moved into the small, humble house across his. Although your parents weren’t very well off, Cheol was. It was an odd thing that you two were neighbours because his house was much more grand and nicer kept than yours. This didn’t really bother you growing up though, he always made you feel like an equal.

Seungcheol has been with you through it all, from the petty fights in middle school to the pains of adolescence in high school. He’s seen you at your worst like the time you tripped and fell trying to impress a cute guy at school, which resulted in a nosebleed. You were so embarrassed but at the end of the day, Cheol was there to help you clean your bloody nose and pick you back up. A true night and shining armour in disguise. He was the one to patch up your heart, breakup after breakup. Always your shoulder to lean on when you’re feeling down, and especially when you’re happy.

A man and best friend like Choi Seungcheol didn’t come around very often, and you took notice of that since you were young. You cherish every moment you have and will have with him. He is a true gentleman with a heart of gold, he’s handsome, smart, rich and caring. Every single box on your list is ticked off when it comes to him. Yet, you know that no matter how hard you love him, you will only ever be his best friend. The girl he sees is practically his younger sister. The bittersweet feeling of being so close to him tugs your heart till it's torn. It took you a long time to accept that all you’ll ever be is his best friend, and even now you’re still trying to accept this fact.

Fall freshly arrived in your city. The bustling sound of cars, the light whistle of the wind, the leaves that would crunch with each step. It is the perfect atmosphere for you and Seungcheol's weekend movie marathon. On today’s agenda is Divergent, a series you loved reading growing up.

There you two sat, snuggling on the couch, wrapped in maybe ten pounds worth of blankets that could be someone’s monthly rent downtown. This is why you loved having movie marathons at Seungcheol’s place, he always has the best blankets, the best pillows, the best snacks; you could go on for days with reasons.

Your head on his shoulder, his arm resting behind you on the couch, everything felt perfect. If you closed your eyes for just one second, you could pretend that you and he were together and that this was just a stay-at-home type of date. But, the moment your eyes open again you are faced with the reality of the situation.

“Wow, this movie was a lot better when I was like 13…” you snort after finishing re-watching Divergent for the first time in a long time. Only because Cheol hadn’t seen it before.

“Hmm, it's not that bad..?” He tries to defend the movie, but as someone who read all the books in middle school, you knew that it just didn’t compare.

“No Cheol you don’t understand, it’s just gets worse from here. I really don’t know why they didn’t just decide to follow the book more properly. The first one was so good.” you huff with a frustrated sigh after finishing your rant.

Seungcheol can only chuckle, his voice sending vibrations from how close in proximity you two were. He didn’t mind the physical affection between the two of you, after being around each other for so long, you two became accustomed to it. You were always the type to rant to him about the little things, and he just likes to sit there and listen. He always wants to be the person you go to when you want to let your feelings out, no matter how trivial your tangents are.

“Y/n, if you hate the last two movies why are we watching them?” He asks you, his brow quirked up.

“You’re right actually, maybe we can watch something else…” You agree, your head craned up to look at him from where you’re positioned. A small smile danced across your lips, so close to him you could feel his breath fan your face. The smell of his cologne tickles your nostrils.

“Wanna watch Ponyo?” Seungcheol suggests he knows how much you love Ghibli movies. You always like to mention to him that you’re Ponyo and he’s Souske. He doesn't disagree with you, jesting that he would carry you around in a bucket full of water as Souske does.

Agreeing, giving an affirmative nod, you snuggle into him further as he changes the movie, exiting out of the dumpster fire they call the Divergent. As the movie starts to play, you think back to all the times Seungcheol was your Souske, and all the times he spent making sure you would heal from your hurt.

II.

Seungcheol has always seen himself as your best friend. The man that will be there for you when you have no one else to turn to. He has never seen you as more than his best friend, his y/n. He is a man who never second-guesses himself, always keeping a strong-willed sense of mind. Every time one of his friends asked him if he had feelings for you, he would simply answer no; and that you were like a younger sister to him.

That first year was lonely for him, he didn’t really know anyone and all his classes kept him away from socializing. The only thing that seemed to have stayed constant was you. You face-timed him at least once a week before he went to bed, never forgetting to remind him how much you missed him, and how much you cared for him. In the simplest words, you were his rock for during first year.

Seungcheol was never warned about how lonely and jarring your first year could be. The change in place, people, and most importantly the change in the fact that you weren’t there experiencing it beside him. He was never one to believe clichè sayings, but he finally understood what the saying “distance makes the heart grow fonder” really felt like. He had gotten so overwhelmed from the loneliness he even began to write you letters, ones he would never actually send out, as cheesy as it sounds. But knowing that he was addressing them to you brought him some type of solace in that first year.

A year later you came to study at the same university, and he was elated, to say the least. Finally, he had thought to himself. The one person he hadn’t been able to see, smell, or touch for a year was finally going to be in his proximity.

Unlike Cheol, you were only able to go to this school through bursaries and scholarships, your parents simply just couldn’t afford to send you to school in a different city otherwise. It reminded you how lucky Seungcheol was to receive support from his parents, getting and going to school was nothing he had to ever think twice about. You knew you could’ve stayed with your family, and gone to school closer to your house, but with Cheol away, it just wasn’t the same. Nothing had felt the same since he left. But this didn’t matter to you the moment you felt his arms wrap around you again.

You stood there in the airport all alone, eyes searching for a head of freshly dyed blond hair. The moment you heard his voice call your name, you knew you were finally home.

“Y/n!” An excited, deep voice calls out for you.

You whip your head around to see him. The man you hadn’t seen in so long, the man you were so desperately in love with. Your best friend.

“Cheol!” A squeal escapes your lips, you run to him. He pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping his large hands around your smaller frame. Swinging you around like crazy, a laugh bubbles up from your throat.

“I’ve missed you so much y/n.” Cheol exasperates as he hugs you tighter, leaving a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’ve missed you too Cheol…” You whisper into his chest, breathing in his expensive cologne, not caring that you are in public; staying there to embrace him for a weirdly long period of time. “Never leave for that long again.”

III.

“Y/n for fucks sake please stop asking me if we can match for Halloween,” Seungcheol whines, his hands running over his face in exhaustion.

“C’mon it be so fun please please pleaseee,” you beg, your “please’s” getting longer with each second he refuses. You’re both sat on his couch, the morning after your movie marathon sleepover. Kneeling beside his spot on the sofa, shaking his shoulder excessively to get him to agree with you.

It’s a week before Jeonghan’s infamous Halloween party, one that you’ve attended every year since you moved here. It is known for being one of the biggest parties of the year, and Jeonghan is the most dramatic yet genius host on campus. Everyone goes, and you mean everyone. This year is no different than the previous ones. You and Cheol have gone together every year, and he has yet to do a matching costume with you. This year you’re simply not backing down from a simple no.

“But Tom and Jerry would be so funny!” You attempt to reason with him, giving him your biggest doe eyes and sweetest pout. You looked ridiculous, begging like a Victorian child asking for an extra piece of bread.

“Fine. Fine!” Seunghceol finally gives in. If there was something he just can’t resist, it’s when you beg to him with puppy dog eyes. It somehow has always worked for you, even when you two were kids.

“Yes! Finally oh my god, i’ve been waiting for this to happen for the past 3 years!” You jump around victoriously in your fluffy pyjamas. Seungcheol can’t help but laugh at your celebratory dance, especially when you wore fluffy bunny printed pj’s.

“Ok ok calm down, I’ll only allow it if I get to be the stupid Jerry cat.” he grumbles, arms crossed as he leans against his couch.

“You mean Tom you idiot..” You muttered under your breath as you sit back on the couch, returning back to the Ghibli marathon.

You weren’t very slick though, Seungcheol weirdly had a great sense of hearing for someone who can act like an old man sometimes. He turns to you with a glare and you let out a squeak, ready to run away from his hold, wow he is really taking his Tom role seriously, you thought as he chased you around his apartment. The sound of child-like laughter fills the space, your Ghibli movie long forgotten.

IV.

Monday had finally rolled around the corner, which you dread even more after spending the weekend in Paradise a là Seungcheol, a.k.a his apartment; which was a lot more fun to be at in comparison to your own. He lived on one of the highest floors in his apartment building, while you lived in the cheapest place closest to campus. It was kind of laughable how different your life is compared to Seungcheol’s, yet out of everyone he’s your bestfriend.

What’s even worse about this Monday is that you’re finally getting your assigned partner for the midterm project. With your fingers crossed you hope that the professor would pair you up with either Jeonghan or Seunghcheol. At least it would make doing the project a little bit more bearable, especially knowing that the whole project itself is worth fifteen percent of your grade. Not a lot but enough to make a dent in your average if you get careless, which you can’t afford. Literally.

“Okay, so I’m just going to start assigning people randomly…” The professor drones on before beginning to give out assigned partners.

“Y/n L/n and Jeon Wonwoo.” Your name is finally called, and thank the heavens your partner is someone you actually know, and someone you know who is smart too.

In a hurried fashion, you make your way to sit beside Wonwoo. You two weren’t really all that close, but you had mutual friends. He is often seen with Mingyu, considering the fact that they are roommates. You had only learnt this from Seungcheol, who was closest to Mingyu. A golden retriever turned person who he had become friends with at the end of his first year in uni.

Wonwoo is an attractive guy, and smart too, which you cannot deny. He was relatively popular for those reasons, but you never really paid much attention to him. Only ever talking to him at parties or in the student union centre eating lunch with Cheol, Mingyu, and Vernon. Honestly, you were just glad to be paired with someone who you know isn’t going to make you do the whole damn thing by yourself.

You slip into the desk where he sits, exchanging a soft hello before bringing out your laptop to write notes. “Hey Wonwoo, I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Y/n.”

“Yeah I remember you, you’re Seungcheol’s best friend right?” He asks, probably thinking you look familiar from all the times you had been seen walking around campus with Cheol.

“I am, unfortunately…haha.” You laugh awkwardly along with your joke, trying to break the ice between you two. Wonwoo just nods his head at you slowly, aware of your attempt to make a joke. He definitely wasn’t much of a talker. You picked up on that every time Mingyu had brought him around, and every time you saw him he was either on his phone or talking to a friend quietly in a corner.

You two got down to business pretty quickly after your lousy attempt to try and make conversation. This is definitely one of those moments that would potentially keep you up a night. The ones where you’re trying to fall asleep and suddenly remember an embarrassing thing you did or said.

On the other side of the room are Jeonghan and Seunghceol, and much to Seungcheol's dismay he got paired up with the one person he didn’t want to be with. The moment the professors called out their names, Jeonghan turned around giving him the biggest shit-eating grin. With the professor’s queue, he makes his way to sit beside Cheol, sitting too close for comfort.

Jeonghan loves to tick Seungcheol off, he thinks it’s a great way to pass the time. Maybe even one of his favourites. There was something about getting under his skin that he just found so amusing. It doesn’t really help that Jeonghan is one of Y/n’s closest friends, second to Cheol even.

He met Y/n in her first year at the University and even knew Cheol prior to Y/n, but the two men somehow never really got along. Jeonghan and Y/n shared an intro to psychology class back in her first year and became close for sharing an innate hatred towards their professor. After that, they were like two peas in a pod. Four years into their friendship, Jeonghan still relentlessly teases Cheol, especially when Y/n is around.

Jeonghan has always been an observant man, at least he’d like to think so. The first time he saw Y/n and Seungcheol interact he could tell from the beginning that they were hopelessly in love with each other. Although he would never outright butt into their relationship, he definitely knows how to push things along. Their body language towards each other really was the biggest giveaway and the way Cheol gives into everything Y/n would say. What’s even more laughable was the fact that they were both deeply in denial, for what reason? Jeonghan didn’t know but he found their oblivious attitude to be insufferable. Call him bitter but after spending much time with the two of them he just wanted them to finally bite the bullet and date already.

“Hmm look at Y/n getting all cozy with Wonwoo, they would be cute together wouldn’t they Cheollie?” Jeonghan provoked, calling Seungcheol by a horrid nickname. He poked at Seungcheols arm, giving him a cheshire cat grin. The blond man was not very amused by Jeonghan’s antics, giving him a deathly glare.

“You’re blowing this out of proportion you idiot, they’re just partners for a project.” Seungcheol scoffs, rolling his eys at how fast Jeonghan is shipping you with Wonwoo. “Also stop fucking calling me Cheollie, its such an ugly nickname.”

“Why not Cheollie? You let Y/n call you that…” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m just saying people don’t just start dating out of nowhere, plus they’ll be spending a lot of alone time together.” Jeonghan eggs on, nudging Seungcheol with his elbow.

Seungcheol moves his attention towards you, boring holes into the back of you and Wonwoo’s head. Seeing you with Wonwoo didn’t settle right with him, he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it’s because of what Jeonghan said or the fact that imagining you so close with another man wasn’t something he was used to. It doesn’t matter anyways, they’re just partners, nothing else, Seungcheol thought. He lets out a huff of vexation, bracing himself for the upcoming weeks he has to put up with Jeonghan’s antics.

The day of Jeonghan’s party had finally arrived, and you couldn’t be more excited. Midterms had just finished up and you were more than ready to drink away the stress. You hadn’t been to a party in a while now, and you were definitely due for a good one. You were dying just to get your mind off school at least for one night, drinking with your friends and wear a skimpy halloween costume.

The walk to Seungcheol’s apartment isn’t very long, a brisk five minutes and you’re already in front of the entrance. You were excited to see his costume, especially because you haven’t seen him dress up for halloween since you two were kids. As you walked down to his apartment you couldn’t help but appreciate the perfect weather for tonights party. The slightly chilly wind blowing through your hair, the moon full and shining bright in the already dark sky. You just had a weird flutter in your heart that gave you the impression that this party isn’t going to be like any of the previous ones.

Walking down the hall to your best friend’s place always has you in awe, no matter how many times you’ve been down the path to his apartment. Most of the time you felt out of place, everything is so extravagant. The doorman, the high-speed elevator, and especially Cheol’s large floor to ceiling windows. It had a whole view of the bustling city and it took the breath out of you everytime you would spend a few minutes appreciating the scenery.

You knock on his door, and not more than a few seconds later hes opening the door for you. A hearty laugh leaves your lips as your met with the image of him wearing grey cat ears. His cheeks rosy and the tips of his ears turn a hot red as he lets you in. you can’t help but giggle as you make your way into his living room.

Seungcheol may be a little embarrassed by the cat ears but the real reason he’s blushing so hard isn’t because you’re laughing at him. The moment he opened the door the first thing he notices is your costume. He mentally slapped himself trying not to drool at your figure. The brown corset you had on hugs your waist perfectly, the tightness accenuating your cleavage. Your breasts are practically spilling out of the top and the view is causing all the blood in his body to rush to his head. As you walked past him laughing he couldn’t help but look down at how little your skirt covered. His heart was beating so fast, but he quickly masks his desire for you with annoyance.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you in cat ears.” You’re practically creasing on his couch, laughing after every word.

“You’re the one who wanted to do Tom and Jerry!” he defends himself, a displeased look plastered on his face.

“O-ok sorry sorry, it’s cute! Don’t worry.” A giggle slips past your lips. You stand up and fix his cat ears, your smile widening at the fact that he’s not happy with how “cute” his costume is. “C’mon lemme draw some whiskers and a nose on you.”

Taking his hand, you lead him to the couch. You let him sit down comfortably on the couch before you climb onto his lap, your eyeliner pencil in hand, ready to draw some whiskers. You focus on giving a cute circular nose, your tongue sticking out a little in concentration. Not wanting to mess up the whiskers, you dont pay attention to anything else as you draw three straight lines on each of his cheeks.

Seungcheol on the other hand is trying very hard not to focus on you. His hands are squeezing your hips with an iron grip. The direct view of your cleavage, the proximity of your body, it was getting too much for him. You were so in your own world, concerned by his cat makeup that you don’t even notice your skirt riding up the slightest bit. He takes notice of this, his breath caught in his throat. With your legs straddling his, he has a good view of your panties peaking out from your skirt. Seungcheol can feel himself getting aroused but he’s trying his best to ignore it, his hands starting to sweat profusely.

“Fuck…” He mumbles under his breath, looking straight down at your exposed underwear. He felt a bit like a pervert but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away from your body.

“Shh I’m almost done promise.” You assure him, oblivious to the fact that he’s not whining about the make up. “Annnd done!” A satisfied smile spreads across your face as you get off his lap. Pulling down your skirt a little because of it slightly hiking up from being on his lap.

With a relieved sigh, Seungcheol gets up from the couch after you. He wasn’t sure why he’s feeling about this away about you all of sudden. Maybe it was because you two were so close in such an intimate way? No that can’t be it, Seungcheol thinks to himself, we’ve known each other for so long. Maybe its because your costume was accenuating every attractive thing about you, he really didn’t know. But what he does know is if that happened again he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. With that last thought, he decides to just brush it off for now. He feels more than ready to get some alcohol in his system.

“Lets go?” Seungcheol asks, lending you his bicep to wrap your hand around. You nod, taking his arm before walking out of his apartment, ready for the fun night ahead.

VI.

You two arrive in front of Jeonghan’s house. It isn’t a far walk from Seungcheol’s apartment, maybe five to eight minutes and you were already there. As you stroll along the side walk the music exuding from his house becomes increasingly loud. The thumping of the bass echoing slightly throughout the neighbourhood, the halloween decorations hanging off the exterior. You are a little bit in awe at how many people are able to fit in a tiny bungalow, but despite the crowded atmosphere, a party like this is a perfect way to celebrate the end of your midterms.

As you and Seungcheol enter the house, you can already recognize a few familiar faces from your classes as well as some of your closest friends. The music practically enveloped you the moment you stepped into the room, the bass causing your heart to thump out of your chest. You squeeze onto Seungcheol’s arm tighter, not wanting to lose him in the crowd. He keeps you close, fearing that you may disappear the moment he lets you go. As you continue to scan the room for your friends, one person in paritcualr catches your attention.

Soonyoung who was of course wearing a tiger onesie, is already in a drunken state, swaying around aimlessly, bumping into people and then proceeding to apologize with a hug accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. Watching this unfold causes a giggle to escape your lips, you pat Seungcheol and motion to the silly drunkard making his way out of the heaps of people. Seungcheol chuckles at Soonyoung as he ends up making his way over to the two of you. The drunk tiger yells out for you , engulfing you and Cheol into a bone crushing hug.

“Typical of you Hosh, you’re already drunk off your ass,” you scold him as you call him by his nickname, patting his fluffly tiger hood. “Now what are you doing going around and giving people kisses?”

“Y/Nie stop acting like my mom, c’mon lets go find Hao and the others.” Soonyoung whines, tugging on your arm so that you would follow him. You give Seungcheol a look, and he just nods, you knew that meant he would go and find you later. So you let Hoshi pull you away, brining you over to your friends.

You spot Jeonghan and Minghao conversing in a corner of the room. This is the first time you’ve seen an angel look like they were out to do more bad than good. Jeonghan’s angel wings and halo shaking as he laughs at something Minghao says. On Jeonghan’s left side is a Mona Lisa painting with the head and arms cut out. You laugh at the way Minghao is constantly keeping his hands in the same way as the original position of the painting as he talks.

“Y/N! Finally the party doesn’t really start till you’re here.” Jeonghan greets you, taking you out of Hoshi’s grasp to pull you into a hug. “Your costume is adorable but also really sexy, Jerry right? Where’s your Tom?”

“Goodevening to you too Hannie, and uhm…Mona Lisa?” You giggle at Minghao’s odd choice in costume.

“Mona Eisa actually.” He corrects and you don’t even think to ask any further questions.

“Well… he would’ve been here if this intoxicated hamster didn’t pull me away from him.” You reply to Jeonghan, giving Soonyoung a look, seeing that he’s already cuddling up to Minghao, who doesn’t seem too pleased by the sudden affection. “Soonyoung stop trying to strangle Hao, he’s not going to disappear.” you scold him again, resulting in a pouty tiger.

“Jesus Soonyoung let go of me that onesie you have on is like a fucking space heater.” Minghao complains, trying to push Hoshi away. Hoshi only whines, holding on tighter. Looking at the situation unfolding, a stranger would think Minghao is the older one of the two. You have always known how much of a lightweight Hoshi is, but tonight it seems he’s had more than usual.

“Y/N stop calling me a hamster, and Hao what’s wrong with a hug? I thought we were friends..” He continues to whine, his cheeks red from the alcohol.

“We won’t be if you keep holding onto me like that you idiot,” Minghao replies, giving Hoshi a warning look. He let Minghao go with a mope forming on his lips. Minghao can only laugh and pat his head. He wasn’t a big fan of physical affection but he still adored Hoshi even if he was clingy. Y/N found their friendship amusing, they would always quarrel with one another yet still show affection when it really mattered.

“Ok ok, break it up you two. Y/N over here is way too sober, let’s fix that.” Jeonghan suggests, and you happily agree. Hoshi’s face lights up and he attempts to follow the two of you. “No Hoshi, not you, you’ve had enough. Go find Seungkwan Hao, this guy needs to be put on an alcohol ban.”

Soonyoung sulks even harder, causing his chubby cheeks to accentuate. It made you giggle at how cute he gets when he’s drinking. You bid your goodbyes to Hoshi and Minghao and follow Jeonghan into the kitchen. As you trek towards where the alcohol is you say hello to some of the people you were friendly with, complimenting the pretty costumes you saw on the way.

When you finally reach the kitchen, the countertop is filled with bottles of every type of alcohol. You end up spotting Seungcheol standing around the island, talking and drinking with Mingyu, Vernon, and Wonwoo. They notice your presence immediately giving you a polite wave. Wonwoo on the other hand takes a longer than normal look at you. This catches Seungcheol’s attention, causing him to grip his red cup harder till it is slightly crumpled in his hand.

“Cheollibee! I didn’t see you come in earlier.” Jeonghan snickers, taking a good glance at his costume. This only makes Cheol scowl at him, muttering about the wretched nicknames Jeonghan is always coming up with.

“Hello Jeonghan.” Seunghceol deadpans, still leaning leisurely against the island.

“You wanna take a shot with me and Y/N? It’ll be fun, promise.” Jeonghan urges, a mischievous glint twinkling in his eyes. You watch the two and laugh, Seungcheol never fails to show his disdain for Jeonghan, it was kind of their thing.

“Sure why not.” Cheol shrugs, coming up to the two of you. He stands behind you, your body pressed against the counter, you can feel his breath fan the back of your neck. Stiffening at the feeling, you watch him grab a bottle from in front of you before pouring out three shots. For some reason the music was nothing compared to how fast your pulse was beating in your ears right now.

Seungcheol’s strong bicep wraps around you to pour a sufficient amount of liquor in each glass, his cologne engulfing your senses. It makes your knees weak, the proximity of his body pressing up against you has your mind running laps. It was so close you could feel his front side brush up against your behind. The thin material of your skirt feeling the texture of his rough jeans.

“You ready?” Seungcheol whispers in your ear as you look down at the shot glass that he’s trying to hand you. The way his breath fans across your face makes you shiver inwardly. You only nod, taking the little shot glass out of his grasp.

From Jeonghan’s point of view you look like a deer in headlights, he can’t help but smirk. Seungcheol’s presence obviously affecting you.

You turn around to face Cheol, and he backs away a little bit, taking the space beside you; one of his hands gripping the counter beside your waist. His blond hair pushed back, the soft cat ear headband hes wearing contrasts against his hard features. As you throw back your shot, you can’t help but keep your eyes on him. His strong jawline becomes more prominent as he takes his own shot, the liquor dripping a little bit off his chin onto his shirt. Fuck, you thought, i’m not drunk enough for this.

Jeonghan sees you ogling and can’t help but chuckle to himself, he pours another set of shots before handing them off to the two of you. Taking the shot, you wince one again as you feel the alcohol burn down your throat. Two shots aren’t enough to get you drunk but you were definitely starting to feel a light buzz. Your surroundings start to become a tad bit hazy, but in a good way.

“Cheollie why don’t you take Y/N to dance?” Jeonghan suggests, his cheshire cat like grin returning. The look of his mischievous smile in juxtaposition with his innocent and pure white angel costume.

Your eyes light up the moment ‘dance’ slipped out of Jeonghan’s mouth, causing you to tug on Seungcheol’s sleeve, urging him to take you to where everyone else is dancing. The alcohol running through his system and the way your eyes sparkle under the kitchen lights is enough for Seungcheol to agree. He could feel his buzz coming on now but he knew he is far from drunk.

“Fine, let’s go.” He allows, pretending not to be a little intrigued on what your definition of ‘dancing’ is.

You smile excitedly and take his hand, leading him to the dance floor, your hips already swinging along with the music. Which was more like the middle of Jeonghan’s living room with the couches pushed to the side. The crowd of people in the middle of the room are moving with the groove of the thumping bass. You start to do the same, letting your inhibitions go. Taking Seungcheol’s hands you place them on your hips, your body's flush with each others. You snake your hands around his neck, holding onto him as you continue to move with the music. The grasp of his large hands holding your hips tight ignites sparks in your stomach.

Seungcheol’s throat goes dry as you turn around, your back facing him. Your ass flush with his front, causing him to hold onto your hips even tighter. What the fuck…, he thinks to himself. The feeling of arousal sneaking up on him for the third time tonight. As you continue to grind on him, he can’t help but let out a low groan, your ass moving against his growing hard on.

“You enjoying your self princess?” Seungcheol whispers in your ear, his hands starting to move up and down. From your hips to your waist, up then back down to your hips once again. Your breath hitches, the tips of his fingers leaving a searing heat on your skin in its wake. The buzzing haze clouding your thoughts, the pounding of the music, the feeling of his hands on you, it was too much all at once.

“Mhmm..” Is the only thing you can say in response as you continue to dance against him.

Seungcheol chuckles, he can sense your arousal too, with the way you put your hands over his, guiding them back to your hips. Keeping your hands on top of his own, you let the music take over you. You close your eyes to really savour the moment; just because you’re not sure when the next time you will get to experience this with Cheol again.

The more you dance with him, the warmer you get. The heat of his body radiates onto you, his hands move from your hips down to your exposed thighs then back up. Who knew that two shots in, you would be dancing (grinding) on your best friend in the middle of Jeonghan’s Halloween party? As time goes on, you feel your clothes stick to your skin just a little more than before, as well as the heat brewing in your stomach.

“Cheollie…” You look over your shoulder to meet his gaze. With a seductive smile, you give him bedroom eyes, not caring that you’re in front of so many people you know. Or the fact that you’re feeling extremely attracted to your best friend right now. “I’m feeling a little warm, can we go somewhere a little more quiet?” you ask, feigning your timidness.

“Yeah if that’s what you want.” He nods, giving you his charming, dimpled smile.

You take his hand, leading him down the hallway to Jeonghan’s room. But before you enter you send a text to Jeonghan, asking if it was ok to stay in his room for a bit. He replies promptly saying that it was fine and to drink the water in his mini fridge if you needed to. After reading that you had permission to enter, you bring both you and Cheol into the room, closing the door promptly behind you.

“You feeling better in here Y/N?” Seungcheol inquires, grabbing a water from the mini fridge and handing it to you. You simply nod, grabbing the water from his and taking a sip.

“Yeah thank you, it was getting really hot out there. Thank god Hannie always keeps his room freezing cold.” You shrug before taking another sip of your water as you sit down on his bed. You admire Seungcheol as he walks toward you, his tight shirt highlighting his muscular biceps, veins running down his forearms. You mentally shake yourself to stop the drool from dripping past your lips.

He towers over you, standing in front of you as you sit on the bed. You clear your throat before putting the water bottle down on the bedside table. Seungcheol grabs a piece of your hair, tucking it behind your ear, his hand moving down slowly to get ahold of your jaw. His grip is firm but gentle, forcing you to look up at him from where you sit. You gulp, frozen, his actions not clear enough for you to predict what he’ll do next.

“You have been teasing me a whole lot while you were dancing, did you know that princess?” He asks, looking down at you while he runs his thumb over your lip, pulling it down slightly.

He relinquishes his hold from your face, going to sit beside you on the bed. Your heart beats out of your chest as your eyes meet his. Seungcheol’s pupils are enlarged, his brown eyes lidded with lust. You aren’t sure what to do, but whatever he has planned you really wouldn’t be opposed to any of it. Although you were having fun dancing with him, a part of you knew if you kept on grinding against him like that, his self-restraint would break.

The muffled music and the sound of your heavy breaths are the only things to be heard in the room. You bite your lip, not sure how to answer him, your cheeks heating with a little embarrassment, apprehension, and excitement.

“No Cheol I didn’t mean to,” you murmur, your face dangerously close to his. He shakes his head with a chuckle.

“Didn’t mean to what? Get me hard from having you grinding on me like that?” he retorts, his hand comes up to grip your cheek, squishing it between his thumb and forefingers. “I think you did mean to, I only have so much self-control princess.”

He lets go of his grip on you, caressing the spot on your cheek where he pressed his thumb. With one swift motion, he grips your hips and pulls you onto his lap, moving your thighs to straddle his. You yelp due to how quickly he got you into the position, your skirt riding up once again.

“Mm.. Maybe just a little bit, I guess I got caught up in the moment…” you admit shyly, averting his hard gaze as you play with the hem of your skirt.

“Well your actions have consequences sweetheart, so what are you gonna do about it?” He whispers into your ear. A shiver runs down your spine, and the feeling of his hot breath fanning your face causes the heat to pool in your core, staining your panties.

“Cheollie…” you whimper, his hands back on your hips, his grip tightening with every second that passes. Embarrassed, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, not wanting to look him in the eyes. You were just so embarrassed at how turned on you are, the feeling of his body so close to yours has your walls lining with arousal.

“You gonna fix what you did princess?” He continues to whisper to you, making you feel like you two are the only people in the entire house. The feeling of his hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly has you leaning more into his touch, his fingertips leaving sparks as he continues. You nod into where you buried your face into his neck.

“With words.” His tone is firm and another shiver runs through you, but instead, it runs straight through your hot core. His hands now running over your bare thighs, squishing them ever so slightly, as he admires how they look smushed onto his lap.

“I’ll fix it, I want to.” You whisper as you look down at his full lips, your arms moving to wrap around his neck. “I really want you right now Cheollie…”

“I want you too, are you sure princess?” He asks, keeping a safe distance until he receives some verbal consent from you.

“Yes, I want it please.” You’re practically begging, whimpering as you lean in closer, your nose touching his.

Lost in his scent, you can feel the blood rush to your head at how close you are to him right now. His hands gripping onto your waist, his lips so close to yours but still not touching. The alcohol, your beating heart, his touch, it’s making your head dizzy with arousal. You wanted this so bad and you didn’t know much you needed it up until this point. Out of all the people you’ve been with before, nothing compares to how much you’re own best friend is turning you on right now. Something about him intoxicates you way more than the two shots you downed less than half an hour ago.

With that last thought, Seungcheol finally crashes his lips into yours. The moment he felt your lips on top of his it was like a fire ignited in him, one that he couldn’t seem to light properly till you. He’s only been kissing you for less than a minute but you’ve already got him hooked. He knows that theres going to be no one after you. The feeling of your body against his is making all the blood rush down to his dick.

You place your hands on both his cheeks, pushing him into your face even more. Tasting the remnants of alcohol on his tongue, the flavour of him and what he drank making you whimper into the kiss. Seungcheol pushes his tongue into your mouth, exploring the softness of your lips. You couldn’t comprehend how delicious it is to kiss Seungcheol, like he was some nectar you’ve been deprived of all your life.

He groans as he feels you grind your clothed heat against his growing erection, the friction causing his head to spin. Gripping your hips even tighter, he continues you to kiss you with while moving your hips back and forth with ease. The hard motions causing you to pull back to let out a moan.

“Haven’t even touched you properly and you’re already moaning like that…” Seungcheol groans, kissing up exposed cleavage and collarbones. “Fuck angel you’ll be the death of me.”

He adores the corset you have on, the fact that your tits practically spilling out right in front of his face made his dick even harder for you.

“Mmmph, Cheol please…” You whine as he continues to suck on your exposed skin, leaving red marks all over. Gripping on his biceps to stabalize yourself, the feeling of him sucking harshly on your soft skin makes your eyes roll back. As you continue to grind on him you could feel him growing harder underneath you, it nudges against your cunt but barely, teasing you even further.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” He chuckles against your skin, leaving kisses along your neck and face.

“I need you to fuck me please…” You beg, your eyebrows scrunching in frustration, the kissing and grinding just isn’t enough for you.

“Are you sure princess?” He asks slowly, trying to make sure that is something you really want. You look into his soft brown eyes with desperation, nodding to let him know that you need him right now.

“I do I do please Cheol, cant take this teasing anymore.” you complain, grinding your hips to urge him to take you already.

“You’re a needy little slut aren’t you darling?” He smirks, placing his lips on yours once again. This time he doesn’t hold back with his actions, untying your corset from the back before taking it completely off you. He groans into the kiss as he places his hands your breasts, playing and tweaking with your pebbled nipples. You moan into his mouth as you feel him grope at your chest, fondling them in his hands expertly.

“P-please I need you now Cheol,” you whine harder, gripping onto his strands of blond hair, trying to ground yourself in this moment of increasing pleasure. His lack of touch where you need him most is frustrating you, he may be sucking on your tits but you want him to be sucking on your clit instead.

You’re irritation forces you to seek relief for yourself, your hand snaking down past the bottom of your skirt, pushing your thong to the side. Placing your fingers on your sticky clit you let out a sastified moan. Cheol catches on quickly to your attempt to pleasure your self. You barely got to go in a full circle on your throbbing bud before he throws you onto the bed, laying you on your stomach. Dizzy from the sudden change in positions, you yell out a yelp as he forces your skirt cladded ass in the air.

“What a naughty girl you are…” Cheol mutters to himself.

He tugs at your skirt so it bunches up around your hips, exposing your bare ass for him. Smirking to him self, he starts to caress the supple skin, that is until he brings his hand back to slap your ass with full force. It was so agressive that it jiggles from the impact, leaving a read hand mark on the soft surface.

“Ah! Cheol please ‘m sorry, didn’t meant to touch m-myself,” you cry out, the tears stinging your eyes. The cries turning into moans as he continues to smack your ass one…two… three times… until its too much for you to count. You’ve never been hit like this before but you can’t deny how good it feels.

“This is what happens when you act like a fucking whore princess.” He chuckles, rubbing your hand print covered skin, trying to soothe you. “Tell me you wont touch yourself without my permission again.”

“I-I wont, p-promise. Please Cheollie I need you.” You blubber, the tears falling down your face. He hasn’t even touched your needy pussy and you’re already a mess for him.

Seungcheol is satisfied at how pliant you’ve become, crying and apologizing for him like a good girl. He thinks of all the things he wants to do to you, but ultimately he decides to reward you first. You had taken his slapping so obediently, he thought, wanting to giving you a prize for enduring him. So he turns you around, your back against the mattress, legs spread wide apart for him. He finally gets a good look at your face, becoming more satisfied seeing that the tears are staining your make up, your nose red, and your eyebrows knotted in sexual frustration as you pout for him. Cute, he thought.

“Dont worry baby, i’ll eat you so good you’ll forget all about the pain.” He laughs as he lowers himself until he’s face to face with your heat. His warm breath fanning against your folds. His hands gripping your thighs tightly, keeping you spread for him. He licks his lips, wetting them before he indulges into your hot cunt.

Your underwear already pushed aside, he begins to lick a long fat strip against your wet lips. Letting out a wanton moan, you hold onto his hair, your thighs trying to close but his grip only becoming more tense.

“Fuck Cheol… so good.” you moan out, your eyes rolling back with pleasure. He hums against your core, sending vibrations. His actions continue to make your walls build up with more arousal. You’re so immersed in the feeling of his tongue, he decides to take it up a notch. Choking on air, you feel him insert a finger into your dripping hole, hooking it so it rubs against that spot that sends you into heaven. As his finger slides in and out of you, he suckles on your bundle of nerves. This is the moment you begin to see stars, and you start to feel that familiar build up below your stomach. Cheol adds another finger, picking up his pace a little bit.

“Hmmph Cheol please… need to cum.” you beg him, and he speeds up. He speeds up so much you almost black out. Screaming his name, he puts all his force into getting you to the edge, it makes your toes curl. And then its gone.

“What the fuck?” you ask him, you face flushed from the moments before, but also with frustration. He can only smirk at you as he licks his fingers clean, his jaw wet with your arousal. Seungcheol’s eyes darken as he takes in your small frame below him, your wetness still glistening off his chin. His cat ears long gone, you admire his muscular build as he begins to take off his clothing.

“Just wanted to see you come on my cock…” He mumbles, lining up his member with your entrance. Its large and the girth of it causes your breath to catch in your throat. You’re a little scared how much of it is going to fit without it stinging, but at this point you can’t bring yourself to care. All you want him to do now is to fuck you dumb.

Seungcheol’s self control is thinning second by second, he wants to take his time with you. Playing with you till his touch is burned into your skin. Till his length is burned in your pussy’s memory. So he teases you more, rubbing the tip of his hard member against your dripping folds. He loves how he can hear your lips squelch with every movement he makes.

Savouring the feeling of his cock head bumping into your clit, he places his hands on the mattress beside your waist. He moves his hips back and forth, letting his length glide against your lips but never going into your needy hole. The underside of his dick nestled within your folds, hitting your clit with each thrust.

“Oh hmph… Cheollie please… inside please.” you moan salaciously, as you peak at how his cock is rubbing you. It looks so pornographic you almost come just at the sight of all.

“Sorry baby, I just want to savour you for a bit.” He apologizes, his voice wavering as pleasure radiates through his body. The pre cum beading off the tip of his hardness. He relents his teasing, pulling back a bit to sit on the back of his heels. He stares at your knotted brows, the anticipation clearly written all over your face. Chuckling to himself he enters your tight cunt in one go. “So fucking tight for me…”

“Cheol!” you yell his name, your legs held up to your chest by his large hands, folding you in half.

“Holy fuck princess, your pussy is perfect.” He praises into your ear while moving in and out of your entrance with ease. You clench around him after hearing him compliment you, your brain going blank with pleasure. The feeling of his cock makes you dizzy, especially with how perfectly he fills you. His large member stretching your walls deliciously, the tip grazing against that one spot that makes you weak.

“You love taking this cock like a little slut don’t you.” He mutters, letting go of your legs to put one against his shoulder. You can only nod and make sounds of approval.

Seungcheol admires the way his thick cock is spreading your entrance, making him groan. The white ring forming around the base of his dick makes his push into you faster. Your moans increase as you feel him speed up, the sounds of skin slapping fill the room. The echoing sounds of your wet pussy being filled by Seungcheol’s cock grows louder, making you even more horny than before.

You are so fucked out, you couldn’t even form words of praise for him. The ridges of your walls being filled up by him is something you didn’t know you needed until now.

That feeling you had in your chest on your way to Cheol’s place resurfaces, is this the night your friendship with him changes forever? You think to yourself while looking into his eyes, your eyebrows scrunching as you moan.

The sight is so lewd, his member twitches inside your heat. He knows he’s close, but he doesn’t want this to end. As he continues to thrust into you, he can’t help but admire your beauty. Seungcheol was always aware that you’re an attractive person, but something about you being under him right now, drunk off his cock, basking in the moonlight that spills through the semi-closed curtain is really doing something to him. The feeling in his stomach only intensifies as he watches you moan his name deliriously. So fucking pretty, he thinks, the image of your coming undone burning into his memory.

“You close princess?” He asks you, watching the way your legs are starting to shake a little. You nod as you look at him, silently pleading for him to make you cum. He flashes you a smile as his free hand goes to rub circles on your clit, continuing to piston in and out of your tightening hole. Eyes rolling with pleasure, your back arching off the bed as you lean into his touch even more. Clenching and then unclenching, your pussy is pulsing as it greedily sucks him in.

Seungcheol curses under his breath at the grip you have around his hard length, your walls pulsating with each circle he rubs into your clit. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” he warns you.

You smile at him mischeviously, repeating your actions again and again, watching his strokes becoming sloppier by the second.

“Come inside me Cheol, wanna see it drip out after,” you beg him, staring at him through your eyelashes innocently. He doesn’t have to be told twice, his speed increasing once again. This shuts you up quickly, as you whine at the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix. You feel him twitch in you again, and you know he’s close, so are you. Letting go, you orgasm, letting the high wash over your whole body. Your orgasm triggers his, causing him to spurt his hot load into your spent pussy, creaming you.

“That was…” you say with a sigh, the exhaustion starting to catch up with you. Seungcheol’s breathing is heavy, his cock still buried in your cunt, his cum starting to seep out of the edges of your folds.

“Yeah it was.” He agress with you, finally pulling out. He takes a tissue from the bedside table, wiping off his softening member and then you. Kissing your forehead, he collects your clothes as well as his own.

You watch his muscular back as he picks up each article of clothing. A cold shiver running down your spine as the realisation washed over you, causing your heart to skip.

I just fucked my best friend, you thought to yourself. Your cheeks heat up profusely at how lustful you two became, but also your bashfulness turns into embarrassment and a little bit of worry. The talks you’ve had with Jeonghan and the others about hooking up with a close friend flood your mind. You know things like these never end well, but at the same time this isn’t just any other friend. This is Seungcheol, and for some reason you can’t pinpoint whether that’s a good or bad thing.

Seungcheol finishes picking up everything off the floor, handing you your corset as he puts his own clothing on. You untie the strings and clasp the front parts easily, only to struggle with re-tightening the back. With a meek expression, you stand in front of Cheol with your back facing him.

“Uh, do you think you can tighten the back for me.” your voice sounding small. He smirks at how shy you’ve become after the fact he fucked you shamelessly less than fifteen minutes ago.

“Of course princess,” he leans in to whisper in your ear. His breath fanning against your neck, causing you to shiver visibly. He lets out a low chuckle before tying up your corset, his fingers gliding agaisnt your skin. The touch is hot but gentle, yet the feeling lingers for a few seconds. You can’t help but gulp, thinking about how just a few moments ago his grip was harsh and possessive. Before you could register what was happening next, he steps away, asking if you want to return to the party.

“Thank you,” you mumble before taking his hand and leaving Jeonghan’s room.

It isn’t long before you find the host of the party. He is leaning against the counter, laughing about something with Joshua. The party had dyed down considerably, the only people left were a part of your friend group. You leave Seungcheol’s side to go talk to Jeonghan.

“Now where have you been?” Jeonghan asks as you walk up to him, his smirk increasing as the blush on your cheeks grow. Your eyes are wide, as if he caught you doing something you shouldn’t.

“U-um well me and Cheol just hung out in your room for a bit, the party was getting overwhelming.” you mentally curse yourself for stuttering.

“Uh huh… hanging out. So do I or do I not have to wash my sheets?” Jeonghan presses, smiling deviously at how your mouth opens and then closes. Your eyes are wide with embarrassment, you can feel the heat radiate off your entire face.

“Jeonghan!” You squeak, before grabbing his arm to pull him aside, leading him away from curious ears. “Ok yes, please wash your sheets. I’m sorry I don't know what happened, one thing just led to the next… and then yeah.”

You admit to your actions, feeling guilty for staining your best friend's sheets. Your eyes are glued to your twiddling thumbs, waiting for his response. Jeonghan laughs, he laughs. A hearty, bent over clutching his stomach type of laugh.

“Fucking finally, oh my god Y/N. Sorry but it was bound to happen, you should've seen the way he was looking at you tonight. I swear to god if you didn’t fuck him anytime soon he was going to eat you whole.” He giggles, his hand on your shoulder to support himself, as he tries not to double over again.

“W-what?” You’re confused, you weren’t really sure why Jeonghan said all that, from what you can remember Cheol was acting perfectly normal.

“You really are so oblivious aren’t you Y/Nie.” He sighs as he pats your head. “I’m just glad you got that out of your system, you haven’t gotten laid in so long.”

“Hey! You don’t have to say it like that…” you pout, “Hannie, I don’t know what to do now though? Frankly, I’m scared, this is obviously going to change things…”

“You’ll be fine, trust me. Just talk to him, it’s only Seungcheollie after all.” He comforts you, and it admittedly it does help. You knew if there was anyone you could talk to about this it would be Jeonghan.

“Ok, I’m going to his place after anyways. Thanks, Hannie. Also please don’t tell Soonyoung and Hao…” You plead.

“Don’t worry darling, your secret is safe with me.” He smiles softly, pinching your cheek. You give him a hug, thankful you have someone to lean on when you’re feeling distraught. Especially because you can’t get advice about Cheol from Cheol, even if he’s your best friend too.

“Y/N let’s go home?” Seungcheol interrupts your embrace with Jeonghan. You pull away and his mouth is pressed into a thin line, the possessiveness obvious to anyone but you. Jeonghan playfully kisses your forehead, knowing how much it will piss Seungcheol off.

“Ok, bye Hannie, I’ll see you on Monday ok?” you wave goodbye as Seungcheol takes your hand in his.

“Bye Y/N, i’ll speak to you later Seungcheollie. Get home safely you two.” He smirks, eyes connecting with Cheol. His face is hard with an unreadable emotion, he only nods at Jeonghan’s statement before leading you two to the front door.

You bid your friends farewell as you walk towards the entrance of the house, your eyes drifting over to see the drunken tiger sleeping peacefully on Minghao’s shoulder. You wave goodbye to him as well before you’re engulfed by the chilly fall wind.

It’s quiet as you continue on the path to his apartment, your footsteps echoing along the pavement. The city lights shine all around you, the moon gleaming in the dark sky. It really is a perfect day for Halloweekend, you think, hearing the cars zip past you along the street. It is nearing 2 a.m., and the streets are not as busy as they were while you were on the way here.

“You’re not too cold right?” Seungcheol asks awkwardly with his hands in his pocket.

“A little but it’s only a couple blocks till your place so it’s ok…” you mumble, aware of the stiff atmosphere. He only nods before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, sharing his body heat with you. As you two stride down the pavement, you lean into his touch more. The silence between you two becomes more comfortable, admiring the scenery even more as you’re wrapped in his warmth.

VII.

The morning after you lay peacefully asleep on Cheol’s king sized bed. Your breathing steady as Seungcheol observes your soft features. Without even thinking his actions through, he pushes your hair so it’s not in your face. He takes in the way your brows are scrunching, the pout clear on your face even in your sleep. Cute, he thought.

It was a normal occurrence for you two to sleep in the same bed, platonically. A tradition that carried on from your child sleep overs to adulthood.

Reminiscing about the events from last night, Seungcheol feels a tug at his heart, he’s confused. Never have you two been that intimate with each other before, and he’s surprised at how much he’s thinking about what happened. The visions of you under him playing over and over again in his brain. This is the first time he has hooked up with someone thats made him think about his actions so intensely. But knowing that its you, out of all people, complicates his feelings even more.Yet he still forces himself to acknowledge the fact that your friendship has changed, but he’s still not sure if it’s good or bad.

⌗ 𓂃 flash back to seungcheol’s freshman year.

beep. beep.

With a heavy heart Seungcheol hangs up the facetime call. You had to go to sleep early, and he only hung up a few minutes ago, but he already misses you.

The emptiness of his apartment was harrowing. The silence began to amplify, and the lack of noise caused his ears to buzz. The steadiness of his breath was the only sound keeping him grounded in his forlorn reality.

In his 18 years of life, he has never felt more alone. He was in his first year at University, in a different city full of strangers. Most importantly, he was thousands of miles away from you. You had been with Cheol for the better part of his life, and not having you close was a foreign feeling for him.

Pulling out his journal, he begins to write every single thought and feeling down, just needing a way to let go of all of his feelings. Telling you up front was scary for him, he didn’t want to burden you with his problem especially since you had many of your own.

It’s your last year and highschool and when you two were on the phone talking, it was mostly when you were studying for your next test or something along those lines.

Seungcheol wished that he could tell you everything that he held in his heart but it was just something he couldnt bring himself to do. You seemed so stressed and busy trying to make sure you were able to get into the same university as him, that he just didn’t want to add on to the baggage that you were already carrying.

The familiar pang in his heart resurfaced once again, it ached in a way he couldn’t really describe. The feeling of being somewhere unfamiliar as well as being around unfamiliar people just made him feel so alone, secluded. It started out with a simple ‘dear y/n’.

Dear Y/n,

Today was just like the previous ones. I spent most of my time adjusting to my classes, going over lectures, and like every other day, I still miss you. I actually met someone new today, his name is Jeonghan, and I don't really like him all that much. Although he’s not my favourite person in the world he seems to make me feel less alone. His constant need to pester me about the dumbest things remind me so much of you. He has a childish attitude and I think you two would get along really well. Although in front of him I show distaste for his antics, I'm still thankful that he keeps me company. I wish I could just tell you what’s happening but I want to stay strong. I want to stay strong so that when you get here I can be the one you lean on. I want to be the one that you can talk to when you become overwhelmed with your first year.

Just because I feel this way right now doesn’t mean that you have to go through the same things as me. I just want you by my side. So hurry up and graduate so i can finally see you in person again.

Always yours,

Cheol.

⌗ 𓂃 end of flashback.

Before he could wake you up for breakfast, his phone chimes with a notification. He picks up his phone, reading the name only to roll his eyes after, “Yoon Jeonghan”.

“Had fun last night Cheollie?” Jeonghan chuckles over the line, Seungcheol can already invision the smirk on Han’s lips.

“So much Jeonghan. Why do you ask.” Seungcheol says sarcastically as he gets up to leave the room, not wanting to wake you up from the phone call.

“Im going to need you to send me $50.” Seungcheol scoffs at this.

“The fuck? Why?” He presses, pinching the bridge of his nose, he can already feel the headache coming on.

“Because you and Y/n stained my sheets. Obviously.” Jeonghan says smugly.

Cheol rolls his eyes once again, he can already envision the look on Jeonghan’s face. He should’ve expected that Y/n told him. He wasn’t mad at her, but he knows that Jeonghan is never going to let this go. He sighs, it was the right thing to do, he literally fucked you on Jeonghan’s bed.

“Fine fine, just don’t call me again. I hear your voice enough at school as it is.” Seungcheol grumbles, knowing that even though he warns him, Jeonghan will continue to do what he wants. Cheol curses you in his head silently, wondering why a sweet girl like you became friends with the devil’s spawn.

“So…you gonna finally tell Y/n you’re in love with her?” Jeonghan asks in a non-chalant manner.

“Jeonghan. I’m not in love with her.”

“Sure you’re not…but I’m sure you’re pissed as hell knowing Wonwoo was admiring her all night.” Jeonghan teases, causing Seungcheols ears to heat up. He noticed it too, the way Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on you for an abnormal amount of time. Multiple times that night Seungheol had caught him staring .

“Whatever man, Y/n is my best friend. I want it to stay that way.” Seungcheol huffs before hanging up, the agitation never leaving his body. Agitated at Jeonghan for spitting nonsense and agitated at Wonwoo for looking at you so intensely last night. He doesn’t know why the latter has him so worked up, but he can’t shake the feeling off so easily.

On the otherside of the door, you stand there, your heart sinking all the way down to your feet. You woke up shortly after Seungcheol went to pick up his call but decided to stay in bed a little longer. Now you’re fully awake, trying to keep your eyes dry after hearing the words that your best friend just uttered.

It shouldn’t even hurt this much, you think. You know that all you’ll ever be is Seugncheols best friend, but why did it feel like you have just been hit by a ton of bricks?

Before you could finish your thoughts the door slowly creaks open, so you blink away your unshed tears, coming face to face with your Seungcheol.

“Oh. Didn’t know you were awake.” Seungcheol’s eyes are wide, he’s wondering if you overheard his call with Jeonghan.

“Y-yeah I just came from the washroom.” You stutter. A wave of relief washes over Seungcheol.

Whilst talking to Jeonghan over the phone, it felt like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone that he doesn’t have feelings for you. It was like the words were practically being forced out of his mouth. The guilt was knawing at him, but why? Why should Seungcheol feel guilty for telling the truth? You’re Y/n, his bestfriend Y/n. The Y/n he fucked deep into Jeonghan’s mattress last night…

“I feel like we should talk about last night…” He says after his train of thoughts.

Wide eyed and rosy cheeked, you didn’t expect him to bring up the events of last night so early on. The visions of you and Cheol tangled in the sheets of Jeonghan’s bed starting to leak their way back into the forefront of your memory.

Instead of saying anything more, you just nod. Making your way to his couch, sitting at the corner where the back of the couch and armrest connected. Seungcheol follows suit. He looks serious, lips press into a thin line, eyeing you for some type of indicator that you feel the tension as much as he does.

“About last night…” you begin, not sure how you want to proceed, but you continue to talk anyways, “Did you enjoy it as much as I did?”

With that question, your heart stops momentarily, preparing for Seungcheol to tell you how much he regretted what happened.

“I did like it. But I just don’t want this to ruin our friendship Y/n. You’re my best friend.” Seungcheol confesses, you’re nerves put at ease momentarily. He keeps repeating those dreaded words ‘You’re my best friend’.

With every breath you take its like a stab in the chest.

“If you regret it that’s ok. We can just leave it in the past, but I just want to be honest with you Cheol…” you gulp, trying to find the right words to express how you feel,

“I’ve never felt that good before, and if there was some way we could arrange something between us. I wouldn’t be opposed.” You finally huff out. Gnawing anxiously at the inside of your cheek, you wait for his response.

Seungcheol’s heart skips a beat, he’s quick to agree. “I’m ok with that.”

“I-Wait? Really? You wanna do this…?” you’re dumbfounded.

The man of reason himself, is agreeing to a friends with benefits situation. Huh?

Seungcheol is someone who is very aware of how “FWB” tends to ruin friendships, but he can’t resist this opportunity. Especially after last night.

“I do. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want a round two of what happened at the party… but if we want to do this I feel like there should be some rules.” He concluded.

VIII.

“So you are and Seungcheol are fuck buddies now?!” Jeonghan exclaims, you try your best not to slap the incredulous look off his face in the middle of the student union centre.

“Oh my god why don’t you just tell the whole world while you’re at it,” you seethe, shoving his shoulder lightly as he leans over the table, forcing him to sit back in his chair. His sandwich long forgotten.

Jeonghan has known the feelings you’ve secretly harboured for Seungcheol for years now. He expected that after what happened at his halloween party you and Seungcheol would finally confess to each other. What he didn’t expect were for the you to do to the exact opposite. I’m surrounded by idiots, he thought to himself.

“You two are the stupidest people alive I swear…” he mutters under his breath. You’re close enough to pick up what he said, giving him a glare from across the table.

That previous saturday morning you and Seungcheol hashed out the details of you’re enhanced friendship. It was a pretty simple set of rules:

No strings attached. If one person catches feelings then the agreement is null and void.

The “relationship” is strictly exclusive. No fucking other people.

No one is to know about this. Exception: Jeonghan.

There wasn’t really a point hiding anything from Jeonghan, even if Seungcheol was against him knowing, he knew that Jeonghan would find out one way or another.

“We’ve been friends for so long Hannie, this is just an added bonus.” You tell him, although a small part of you knows you’re convincing yourself more than anyone.

“Good afternoon to you all.” A cheerful voice interrupts your conversation. Soonyoung walks towards your table with a cheeky smile on his face. Minghao trails behind him, looking exhausted.

“Ah so the tiger finally is out of his den huh?” Jeonghan chuckles, referring to Hoshi’s weekend long recovery after the halloween party. The three of them took time out of their saturday nursing Hoshi back to health.

“Well what can I say? You can’t keep me tame for long.” He practically growls. Minghao side-eyes him, the look of disgust and worry painted all over his face.

“...Ok! So what were you two whispering about?” Minghao asks, wanting to stray as far away from the tiger discourse as fast as possible.

“It wasn’t anything important. Well would you look at the time! Jeonghan we gotta go or we’ll be late to our class.” You try to avoid the conversation, the guilt start to boil in your stomach.

Of course you wanted let Minghao and Soonyoung know what’s going on, but it’s just not a good idea. Especially after having a mutual agreement with Seungcheol not to tell anyone, other than Jeonghan. The more people know, the more blown out of proportion things could get.

“Well thats my queue, see you two love birds later!” Jeonghan waves at the two frenemies, knowing it would piss Hao off.

“Hey! Yoon Jeonghan come back here!” You can hear Minghao yelling from across the room as you tug Jeonghan along. The only thing he does is throw his head back laughing, while Soonyoung looks around cluelessly.

IX.

“So what should our research proposal be?” Wonwoo asks, looking at you for ideas.

After entering class the professor allowed time for partners to start brainstorming for the midterm project. With everything that has happened during the weekend you hardly had time to think about school again. You actively recall the events in your head, thinking about the way Seungcheol towered over you. The thought of it all causing your cheeks to heat.

“Y/n? You still there?” Wonwoo calls out for you, waving his hand in front of your face.

Your eyes go wide, and you shake your head slightly, waking up from your self induced trance. Wonwoo on the other hand looked confused.

“Yeah I was just thinking about something.” you mumble, your cheeks blushing even further. The fact that you were thinking about fucking Seungcheol while you were trying to work on a project made you feel bad for Wonwoo. Clearly you weren’t focused on the task at hand, which was more important than your mid-day fantasies.

“Oh ok. Anyways what do you think about doing child development and growing up with pets?” Wonwoo looks for your reaction, trying to gage whether you thought it was a good idea or not.

Internally, Wonwoo became curious on what has taken up half of your attention. He finds you interesting to say the least, and pretty. He doesn’t know why it took him so long to realize how fun you are to be around, but a part of him wants to get to know you more. The other part conflicted, knowing that all your friends believe that you and Seungcheol are meant to be. Yet he can’t help but wonder if he could be the one to make you fall instead of Cheol.

“That actually sounds really interesting! I'm down to do that.” You smile at him, thankful he’s a good partner, and not someone who just makes you do all the work.

“Perfect. Honestly I’m glad I have you as a partner Y/n. You’re a lot better than the ones I’ve had in the past.” He confesses, putting a hand on your shoulder, his warm smile causing you to blush hard.

You glance over at his hand, before looking up at him once more. Wonwoo is an attractive man, you can admit that much. The time you spend with him is enjoyable to say the least, but to you he’s like any other guy friend you have. Seungcheol being the one exception, who has been on your mind since you’ve met him. A man who’s been able to woo you since you were kids, in the most silent and gentle ways too.

You leave your train of thought to answer Wonwoo once more.

“Y-yeah same! We’ve had the same friends but for some reason we were never that close. Maybe we can change that.” You return his friendly affection. At least that’s what it seems like to you, friendly affection.

“I’d like that a lot actually. I'm sure you’d be better company than the boys, or at least cleaner.” He laughs. You laugh along with him, not really thinking much of his words.

…

Seungcheol was annoyed, he watches the way you and Wonwoo are laughing together. The blood in his veins already starting to curdle and boil. Who does Wonwoo think he is? His habit of wanting to be around you at all times kicks in once more.

Cheol is aware of his possessive tendencies, but he doesn’t ever admit about them out loud. It wouldn’t be fair to speak on your actions when you aren’t dating him romantically. Although he convinces himself he’s only your best friend, he can’t help but refuse to push aside his jealousy of seeing Wonwoo spend time with you when it should be him instead.

“You know Wonwoo isn’t going to spontaneously combust the longer you look at him. You’re going to have to try a different tactic.” Jeonghan mutters beside him, trying not to laugh at Seungcheol.

“I dont know what you’re talking about.” Seungcheol crosses his arms, pouting, looking like a cranky child who didn’t get his way. He knows Jeonghan is right but he can’t help but try to blow up the whole lecture hall in his mind.

“Oh please, cut the act Cheollie. We both know you’re jealous of them. Wonwoo isn’t even doing anything and Y/n seems to already be falling for his charms.”

“Jeonghan whatever you have planned I don’t want to be apart of it.” Seungcheol quips, but he can still see the mischievous grin begin to form on Jeonghan’s face within his peripheral vision.

“What plan?” Jeonghan gasps, putting his hand over his chest, feigning an insulted expression. Trying to keep up the act, as if Cheol didn’t have him all figured out.

…

“Thanks for today Wonwoo!” You beam at him, sitting up from your desk to collect your things. He smiles back at you, the crescent shape of his eyes emphasizing.

“Maybe next time we can go to a cafe for our next study session?” He suggests, looking at you for a sign of approval.

“Yeah that sounds like fun actually!” You agreed, feeling happy that you’re partner is actually wanting to put in the work for once. “Anyways, I gotta go meet up with Cheol, see you soon!”

“See you Y/n.” He smiles at you politely, like always, and you find it quite endearing.

You wave him one last goodbye before finishing up packing your things, and putting your laptop in your bag.

“Y/nie!” Jeonghan calls out for you, standing by the door with Seungcheol.

You turn around and spot them, waving at them with excitement. Focusing more on your best friend than the person who called your name. His blond hair flowed, the tight polo shirt hugging his large biceps. You drooled inwardly, trying not to get caught practically eye-fucking him.

He catches you staring at him, smirking at you as you continue to get closer. Pulling you in by the waist he hugs you. This caught you off guard, Cheol was never one for affection in public. Even as friends, it’s always been within privacy, unless there was some type of special occasion.

“Always wearing a tight little skirt for me aren’t you princess?” He whispers in your ear, causing you to blush.

Oh. His voice is low enough that you’re the only one that can hear him. So this is why he hugged you? Because of the outfit you have on? You really hadn’t thought much of it, the skirt didn’t seem short in your own opinion, but you became flustered knowing it was turning him on.

“Y/n and I gotta do something, see you later Jeonghan.” Seungcheol dismisses him quickly, tugging you past the lecture doors without another word.

You begin to follow him down the long corridors of your University, pushing past crowds of people as they all herd towards their next class. The opposition of the two of you moving in the other direction causing you to bump into each person you pass. A string of ‘‘excuse me’s’’ and “sorry’s” leaving your lips. The handsome and strong man pulling you by your waist doesn’t care who he bumps into, his mind only on one thing and one thing only.

It happens all within a blink of an eye, and before you can become fully aware of what’s going on, you find yourself in an empty classroom. The door locks with a click behind you.

“Did you enjoy your study session with Wonwoo?” Seungcheol inquires out of nowhere, feigning nonchalance. Just saying his name is starting to piss him off. Yes he sees Wonwoo as a friend, but he wants you to only see Wonwoo that way too.

“It was normal…why?” you’re suspicious. Since when did he care about the fact that you’re partners with Wonwoo? You wonder to yourself, but he continues to try and close the distance between you two.

“I could see the way he was looking at you, even though I was across the room.” He huffs, like a spoiled child who was told to share.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Cheol.” you sighed. “Sounds like you’re jealous.”

Your heart skips a beat as you utter those words. If Seungcheol is jealous of Wonwoo what does that mean for the two of you? Does he wants you more than as someone to press into his mattress each night? You pondered it for a moment, but you’re highly doubtful of that being the case. It just can’t be, Seungcheol grew up as an only child, he probably just doesn’t like to share, you try to justify.

“Jealous? Baby of course I’m jealous. I don’t like to share.” He scoffs, fuck not voicing out my jealousy, he thinks. It’s like you were reading his mind.

He begins striding his way over to you till your back is pressed against the desk behind you.

“It’s not like we were going to hook up, he’s my partner?” It was your turn to scoff at him, trying to ignore your pulse quickening as his face inches closer to yours.

Seugncheol looks down at your lips, admiring how your teeth graze against them as you bite down. He likes that he has an effect on you, especially with knowing that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. Just thinking about being the only one making you come causes the blood to flow down straight to his already hardening member.

Placing his large hands on your hips, he tugs you closer to him. A gasp leaves your lips as you feel his hard on against your thigh. Your eyes staring up at him, admiring how he is towering over you, the stern look on his face causing warmth to pool at your core. You’ve always loved how much larger he is compared to you, his shoulders and arms enclosing you completely.

“That better be all he is to you angel, this pussy is mine.” He mutters against your neck, trailing kisses on your delicate skin. As your eyes roll back, you whimper, relishing in the feeling of his lips and the tightness of his grip on your waist.

He pulls you on to the desk, causing you to sit, your legs spread wide enough for him to slip in between. Caressing your exposed thighs, he can’t help but let out a groan as he feels the softness of your skin. Everything about you and your body made his head dizzy with lust, especially when you look at him so innocently with anticipation. You’re alway so eager for his next move.

“I love how wet this pussy gets for me. Barely touched you and you’re already soaked” He mumbles, grazing a finger ahaisnt your underwear clad wetness. The feeling of his fingers make your knees weak, and he hasn’t even put them inside you. He continues to move his fingers against you while kissing you tenderly. After what happened at Jeonghan’s, Seugncheol has been dying to get his hands on you again, savouring the taste of your lips even more.

The smack of your lips moving against his fill the quiet classroom. It was so eerily silent through out the room that you become paranoid that someone might catch you two. Knowing how much your reputation matters for your scholarship, you wonder what the reparations would be caught having sex in public.

“Hmm Cheol.” You whine, but your legs spread further instead of shutting closed. “We’re at school, we can’t be doing this.”

Your brain is fogged by his touch even as you try to think rationally. With every kiss and every stroke of his finger, your mind begins to slip into a state of pleasure. The outside world becoming a muted background as Seungcheol is pulled further into the forefront of your mind.

“But look at you all needy. Would you rather I just leave you like this?” He practically purred into your ear, licking up the side of your neck as he sucks behind your ear. The hotness of his breath and the heat of his kisses makes you give in to him completely.

Fuck it felt so dirty being here, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him to stop.

“This pussy needs tending to doesn’t it baby?” He chides, his tone of voice causing to whine against him once more. You decide to let your morals go for just one moment, spreading your legs further, giving him full access to where you needed him most.

Instead of staying anything more, he takes the opportunity to press his lips against yours once again. The urgency of the kiss causing you to moan against his mouth, feeling the way his tongue pushes past your lips, caressing your mouth with passion and vigour.

His hand snaking their way down to your skirt, pulling off your lace underwear without any hesitation. You lift your hips to ease their removal, excited to feel his fingers fill you.

As he pushes a finger in, you gasp into his mouth, the squelch of your wetness echoes within the walls of the classroom. His finger pumps your hot pussy, your core clenching and unclenching with each thrust of his hand. Seungcheol continues to add more fingers until he’s able to fit up to three comfortably. Your moans never ceasing for a single moment, the euphoria of his long digits massaging your soft spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“Want you.” You somehow were able to voice out, begging him for his length to fill you instead.

“Be clear with your words princess. I’m already giving myself to you.” He plays dumb, continues you finger you as his thumb circles your clit.

“I want you inside me please.” You let out another moan, the stimulation of him pumping his fingers into you, while rubbing your sensitive bud has your mind going blank.

“I am inside you love.” He chuckles, enjoying you beg for him. His member straining against his jeans. Seungheol could continue this for hours, but he knows the moment you ask, he’ll be fucking you with his hard length instead.

“Want your cock please Choelie” You whine louder, your hands making their way to unbuckle his belt.

“Good girl, thats what I wanted to hear.” He mutters against your neck, finally moving his hands away from your body to remove his jeans.

The absence of his fingers make you whine, but you’re quickly silenced by the feeling of his thick length pushing past your wet pussy lips. It makes you gasp and lean black slightly, your arms locked at the elbow as you try to support yourself.

“S-so good.” You’re words practically imcomprehensable as Seugncheol pumps himself inside and out of you. His length leaving your warmth only to push back into you fully once more. Over and over till a creamy ring appears at the base of his cock.

“Who’s pussy is this princess?” He asks you, his hand making its way to your neck, holding onto you tight, but only enough to make your head go fuzzy.

“Mmph Yours!” You sputter, only able to think about the way his hardness is caressing against that one spot against you. He hits it once more and before you know it you’re coming all over his length.

“Fuck you’re so tight angel.” He praises you, snapping his hips till he’s filling you with his hot white seed.

“Ah Cheol.” You call out slaciously, your head falling against his shoulder, tired from how hard he fucked you.

“You’re always so good for me aren’t you?” He kisses your cheek as he takes a tissue from your bag to clean you up.

Too tired to respond you let him take care of you, it causes your pulse to beat against your veins hard. Hiding your face in his chest, he helps you get dressed after your classroom quickie.

You jump off the desk, his hand wrapping around you to ensure you don’t fall. Knees wobbling slightly you hold onto him for support. One thing you can’t seem to get over is how caring he is after he’s pumped you full of his come. In a fucked up way it makes you fall for him further.

“You ok to walk?” he cautioned, not wanting you to fall to the ground. You only nod and simply wrap a hand around his bicep, stablizing you.

“I’m fine, but can we go home now?” You murmur, placing a kiss on his cheek as an unspoken thank you.

“Of course.”

After getting home from school and Seungcheol’s place, you decide to give Jeonghan a call. You didn’t know how to feel about what happened today, especially after Seugncheol had expressed his jealousy for Wonwoo. Maybe it really isn’t that deep, but the fact he acted so possessive made your stomach flutter, but also confused you even more.

Jeonghan is the only person who knows what’s been happening, so you turn to him in your time of need. What you didn’t expect was from him to yell into your ear instead.

“Why are you fucking in a classroom, are you insane?!” Jeonghan yells at you through the speaker of his phone. Your cheeks turning a bright pink at his words.

“Ok I know it was a bad idea, but its fine we didn’t get caught!” you try to justify your actions, but you agree it is pretty insane to fuck in a classrom, especailly during school hours. It was like you were possessed in the heat of the moment, nothing could’ve stopped you from letting Cheol fuck you.

“Y/n you can’t just be making bad decisonms because you’re ‘H’ word!” He scolds you, sounding like your mother for a second. You can’t help but giggle at the fact that he hates saying the word horny. Jeonghan once telling you someone like him should never say such an ugly word.

You roll your eyes even though he can’t even see you. You’re phonecall with him quickly turning into a lecture because of how hard he’s scolding you right now.

“Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me young lady.” He warns you, causing you to jump and look around your room. You know hes not here but somehow you’re spooked.

“You can’t even see me so how would you know?” You bite back defensively even though you know hes right.

“Becaue I know you! Oh my Y/nie one day this whole situation is going to bite you in the ass. You and Cheol should jsut be responsible adults and confess already.” He groans, he isn’t even the one in this predicament and yet hes the frustrated one.

“Ok Han, you were literally on call with him the morning after your party. You heard him! He only sees me as a friend.” You counter, not wanting to have to remind yourself that your best friend doesn’t like you back.

“Oh please Y/nie, we both know he was lying out of his ass.”

“How would you know? He sounded pretty confident to me.” You mutter, absentmindedly playing with the drawstring on your shorts. The scene continues to replay in your head, he obviously doesn’t like me, you think. You can still recall the way your heart stopped beating for a millisecond as you heard him utter those words.

“You two are impossible.” Jeonghan sighs, thinking hard. And with that, it was like a lightbulb went off in his head, with a large ding and everything. “Y/nie don’t hate me but I have an idea.”

“Huh? What is it?”

“What if you try and make him jealous.” He chuckles, it’s soft but there was an evil sound to it all.

“Jeonghan whatever idea you have brewing in the scheming head of yours, I dont want to hear it.” You warn him, already not liking where this is going. The thought of seeing Seugncheol jealous is intriguing indeed, but what happens if you realize you don’t even have that effect on him? It would be so embarrassing.

“You’ll never know what could happen unless you try!” He concludes in a sing-song tone, you can already invision the menacing look on his face.

“Hannie it’s so highschool, I don’t think it’d be smart to do something like that.”

“Ok but you’ll fuck him on campus grounds?” He rebuttals, shutting you up quickly.

“I-” You couldn’t even defend yourself.

“Night Y/nie! See you tomorrow.” The line goes dead, and you curse out at your blank phone screen. Leave it up to Yoon Jeonghan to put bad ideas into your head.

XI.

The next day you sit with Wonwoo in a coffee shop that is only a few minutes away from campus.The city had gotten more chilly with each day that passed, and the cafe was a perfect meeting place to do your project. The warm atmosphere enveloped yout two into a perfect working rhythm. Your partnership with Wonwoo was a lot better than the previous ones you’ve had for classes, you agree to spend the majority of your time going over what to add to the presentation, as well as how it should be presented. Hours felt like minutes, and you two ended up finished earlier than you had anticipated.

“I’m so surprised how quickly we got through everything! We even finished everything early,” you rejoiced, happy that Wonwoo is such a productive partner.

“Honestly we make a really good team.” Wonwoo compliments you, giving you that same polite smile. You end up blushing, his eyes staring at you with so much kindness.

“I agree, hopefully we get paired up more for the rest of the semester.” You giggle, shying away from his gaze.

As you spent more time with Wonwoo, you realized how nice it was to be around him. He makes a good friend, and he’s definitely a lot more than just the quiet guy in the group. His personality more complex than what you had previously assumed, and it makes you wonder why you two weren’t really all that close in the first place. The two of you have the same friends, take the same classes, and enjoy the same things. So what was the one thing blocking you two from becoming closer?

“Well that’s all for today. I can walk you home.” He clears up his things, ready to leave the serene environment of the cafe, throwing away his cup along with yours.

“Oh no you don’t have to! Cheol is actually going to pick me up!” You tell him, seeing his black BMW sitting idle in front of the cafe already.

“Sounds good. Let me walk you out at least.” He gestures to the door, allowing you to walk in front of him. He follows you suit till you’re in front of Seungcheol’s car. “It was fun, I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time?”

“Yeah sure! I’ll be free.” You beam up at him, his frame towering over yours.

The wind is blowing slightly, causing your hair to get in your face, whipping at your eyes. Wonwoo is quick to react, taking the strand and placing it softly behind your ear. The heat begins to crawl up your neck fast, making you realize how close you two are standing together.

Wonwoo leans in a touch more to place a soft kiss on your cheek, and the blush on your face is definitely evident now. Before you can say more, hes walking away with one last good bye. Leaving you there standing with a shocked expression painted all over your face. Quickly you shake your head of what just happened before heading into Seungcheol’s car.

“Were you two on a date?” His voice is stern, obviously pissed off at what he just witnessed.

“...No just working on our project.” you say with a dazed look, watching Wonwoo's figure get smaller the farther he walks away.

“Ok…but he kissed you on the cheek? I thought he was just your partner.” Cheol presses for answers, he really wasn’t impressed of having to witness such an intimate moment between you and Wonwoo. His blood curdling as the grip on his steering wheel tightens. The flesh on his knuckles turning a ghostly white.

“He is just my partner, I really don’t know why he did that.” You mutter as you try to recall all of the events that could’ve led up to this moment. It didn’t make sense to you, did Wonwoo have a crush on you or something? He’s never made any advances towards you before. So what changed that?

“He obviously likes you. Do you like him back?” Seungcheol is too jealous for his own good. His pulse reaching new heights with how fast the blood was pumping through his veins. You can’t like Wonwoo, there’s just no way. Right?

“Well no. I see Wonwoo as a friend.” you admit, and the relief sped its way through Seungcheol’s body.

Although another side of him is wondering why it made him so angry to see Wonwoo act so flirtatious with you. He concludes that he just donesn’t like it when peoples are touching what’s his. Wonwoo’s his friend and you and Cheol are intimate with each other, it would just be weird for Wonwoo to try something with you too, at least that’s what Seungcheol says to himself as he tries to calm himself down. You’re his best friend, nothing more, he keeps repeating it in his head. And if you decide to break off the arrangement with him to date Wonwoo, then he can’t complain.

“Oh. I see.” He mumbles as he starts the car again, taking the route to bring you back to your apartment.

…

You and Seungcheol sit against your sofa watching a yet another ghibli movie. This time it is Kiki’s Delivery Service. Cuddled up in your blankets, your Friday movie marathon happening like clockwork at this point. Nothing can make you feel more content than feeling Seungcheol’s heartbeat as you watch your favourite movies with him.

His breathing is steady as his arm holds you close to him, his attention focused on the moving flashing across your tv. On the other hand, you continue to stare at him, his strong brows and nose bridge has always been your favourite feature of his. You love how manly he appears, but you know on the inside he like a big ball of fluff, so warm and inviting. He just smelt like home, even though your real home is miles away, he’s a piece that you can carry around with you anywhere you go.

As the movie continues to play in the background your attention is forced away from admiring your best friend and brought towards your phone. It lights up with a text notification from Wonwoo.

Wonwoo: Hey Y/n. I know this is sudden but I’d really like to take you out sometime. Would that be ok with you?

Your eyes practically pop out of their sockets as you read the text over and over again. It kind of makes sense that he’s asking you, especially with how he acted today. But what does this mean for the situation between you and Seungcheol? You decide to respond anyways, not wanting to flat out reject him over text.

Y/n: uhhmm i’m not sure, can i have time to think about it? :)

Wonwoo: Sure. Take your time.

Beside you, Seungcheol sits with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. He knows he shouldn’t look at your texts but he can’t help himself. The moment he decides to, he begins to curse himself mentally, reading the text over and over again just like you. It pisses him off, seeing how forward Wonwoo is about his feelings towards you.

He ultimately decides not to say anything the moment you reply to Wonwoo’s text, why did you even need to think about it? Shouldn’t you have said no if you don’t have feelings for Wonwoo? His heart falling all the way down to the pit of his stomach. The familiar feeling of the tug on his heart coming back to haunt him once again. Instead of asking you, he decides to call in early for tonight.

“Hey angel I think i’m gonna head home early tonight.” He whispers to you, stroking the back of your head softly. The stinging behind his eyes doesn’t leave, he just can’t seem to get rid of it. He looks at you with such tenderness, from an outside perspective someone would mistake his stare for utter and complete love.

You look up from your phone, locking it before looking at him with a worried frown strewn across your lips.

“Is everything ok? You’re not sick right?” you ask, placing a hand against his forehead to check his temperature. He shakes his head, taking your hand and placing it in his. His long fingers wrapping around yours, squeezing them reassuringly.

“No no, i’m fine. Just gotta wake up early tomorrow.” He attempts to give you a convincing smile. You don’t know why the mood has changed all of a sudden but you begin to worry even more.

“Cheolie is something wrong?” You press the issue, not wanting for him to leave just yet.

“No nothing’s wrong. Trust me I’m ok.” He insists before getting up to to grab his jacket and leave. And just like the seasons passing through the city, he left with a swiftness you couldn’t seem to comprehend. The hurriedness of his movements leaving you dazed and confused.

The guilty pit at your stomach only seemed to grow the longer the silence filled your tiny apartment. Seungcheol’s once warm presence left a dent on the cushions beside you and a cold cup of tea on the coffee table. You frown at the now empty living space, as well as the empty hole in your heart, which can only be filled by the man who left without another word.

XII.

The snow began to fall in your city. It came unexpectedly, and left just the same. This winter being colder than most, you started to feel the seasonal depression coming on a lot faster than usual.

Seungcheol left so abruptly that day, and with the midterm project you weren’t able to reach out to him since then. It felt weird because this is the first time in a long time you’ve gone without talking to him. The week dragging along as you head into midterm break, trying to think of what to say to him the moment you’re able to talk to him again.

For some reason, ever since that night you have had a weird feeling in your stomach. Call it intuition but it felt like Seungcheol was avoiding you. Even though you weren’t able to reach out to him, he also didn’t try to do so either. The predicament you find yourself in causing your thought to stray as you study for the second round of midterm exams.

You would see him often, in class, or eating with friends, but strangely enough he was gone before you could muck up the courage to approach him. The two of you stuck in an odd limbo that feels like it won’t end.

During this time in previous years, it would be you and Seungcheol studying together in the library, but with your current situation you knew it wasn’t going to happen. So instead you sit with Jeonghan and Minghao, figuring out how to cram as much information as you can for the statistics final.

“Y/n? You keep gazing out the window, is everything ok?” Minghao’s voice cuts off your thoughts. His eyesbrown knotted together in worry.

“Huh? Oh yeah…everything’s ok.” You mumble, your eyes still looking out the window. The campus now coevered in a layer of snow, students walking around, bundled up in winter coats.

“You sure? You’ve been staring out there for almost fifteen minutes now.” He checks on you again. You can only muster up a sound of approval.

Thankfully Minghao isn’t one to push to get an answer so he leaves it there. The sudden urge to pee overcomes you, causing you to walk over to the libraries bathroom. But before you could reach it, two people walk into the library, causing you to do a double take.

The last person you expected to walk in is heading towards an empty table. Your heart beat stuck in your throat, the urge to use the bathroom is long gone. As you watch Seungcheol sit down with a girl, you feel the tears start to well. You were so confused as to why he has time to ask this random ass person to study with him, when he could’ve sent you a text instead. It made no sense to you, and with that, you leave the library without another thought.

The tears falling down your cheeks with every step you took. Seeing him with another girl pulled hard at your heart strings, unsurfacing a feeling you thought you got rid of long ago. You continue to walk with your head down, just trying to think of a private space to let out your emotions. But before you could do so, you bump into something hard, which turns out to be a man’s chest. Looking up you realize it’s Wonwoo’s chest.

“Y/n? You ok? Why are you crying?” Wonwoo speaks so fast, the worry spilling out of his mouth in words. His hand flying up to your face, wiping any tears that fall before they could roll down any further.

“I-I don’t even know why i’m crying. This is so stupid my god, i’m sorry you have to see me this way,” you’re hicupping through your words. You begin to sob, and you feel wonwoo’s strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close. Giving you the comfort that you would usually receive from Seungcheol.

Wonwoo’s large frame squeezes you in, giving you that secluded space that you were once searching for.

Behind you is the frame of a man who is your usual safe space, your usual secluded corner. The one to help you deafen out the world from its ugliness and anger. He stands there watching you trade his comfort for Wonwoo’s. He’s never known what it’s like to be on the outside perspective and witness your hurt in this way. In the arms of another. With every moment passes as he watches Wonwoo comfort you instead, he feels his whole world crumble and fall at his feet.

XIII.

⌗ 𓂃 flash back to seungcheol’s freshman year.

“You talk a lot about this y/n person. Is she your girlfriend by chance?” Jeonghan asks Seungcheol.

“No dumbass she’s my childhood bestfriend. I’ve known her for a long time.” Seungcheol tries to clarify his relationship with you, not wanting others to mistake you two for something more.

“I dont know man, you only ever talk about Y/n.” Jeonghan shrugs before going back to his paper.

Seungcheol thinks about Jeonghan’s words, ‘why is she always popping up in my conversations?’, he wondered to himself. He can’t help the fact that he talks about you so much, you’re all he knows after all. The only one to experience anything and everything with him. He can’t help but want everyone to know what an amazing person you are, and the fact thatt everything around him somehow reminds him of you. It was like an empidemic. You conquered all corners of his brain, always with him, but far enough for him to miss you all at the same time.

“You know, it’s not a bad thing if you have feelings for her. She seems like a great girl.” Jeonghan pipes up after realizing how little work Seungcheol gotten done due to his rampant thoughts.

“Yeah I guess if i did, it wouldn’t be a bad thing.” He mutters, attempting to focus on his work once again.

⌗ 𓂃 end of flash back.

XIV.

For the majority of midterm break, you spent it cooped up within the confines of your room. Wrapping yourself in enough blankets to put a bear into hibernation. You’ve gone back and forth with your own thoughts. Calling yourself dramatic for crying over pretty much nothing, to crying again because you can’t just invalidate the pain you felt when you saw him with someone else, and you don’t even know what she is to him. Long story short, the over thinking is getting to you, but calling him up is the last thing you’re about to do.

Although you’ve never really fully admitted or denied it, you know you’re love for Seungcheol goes beyond friendship. You’ve known for so long, and kept it to yourself for so long, and yet you’ve never known whether he felt the same way. His actions always contradicting his words.

The cliché trope of the pain of falling for your best friend is as old as the bible. The story of the unrequited love you convince yourself you’ll never have reciprocated, and yet at the end of every story everything works out, the two friends turned lovers. The end. But what about you? What about the fact that this isn’t some story and you won’t be able to get ahold of your own cliché best friends to lovers ending.

Before you could spiral even further a notification dings, your phone screen lighting up.

Cheolie <3: im outside.

Seeing the text makes your heart drop, but you can’t seem to stop yourself from climbing out of bed and opening the door to let him in. As you did so, you take a good look at his state. In fairness, he looked just as shitty as you did, if not worse.

The eyebags accenuating how tired he looks, his cheeks slightly sunken in. Probably from lack of sleep, and not to mention the way his hair seems to stick up sporadically, you know immediately it’s because he keeps running his hands through it.

“What are you doing here?” You cut to the chase, your heart already pounding out of your chest.

“I-um. I’m not sure actually.” Seungcheol admits, his head falling as he stares at his feet nervously. You sigh, opening the door wider to let him through.

He looks lost and not like his usual self, which makes you feel even worse, but what could you even do to help him? You two weren’t even mad, or had a fight, everything is just weird. So vague and hard to explain. All you knew is that you’re hurt and he’s at the root of it all.

“I don’t have all day, Seungcheol.” You call him by his first name, and you can see how it pains him. The way his frown deepens with each moment you two stand there in the foyer, not exchanging the words you’re meant to say.

“I’m sorry, I know we haven’t spoken in awhile and I just- fuck I dont even know man. I saw that text with Wonwoo and I just freaked out.” He puffs out, running his hand through his hair once more.

“So thats why you’ve been acting weird? Because of Wonwoo?” The look on your face is unreliable and Seungcheol feels the knot in his throat begin to form. Your hand come to cross in front of your chest and you scoff. “Just because Wonwoo shows interest in me doens’t mean I have feelings for him.”

“What? But you didn’t reject him?” He presses on the situation even further.

“I just didn’t want to be an asshole and do it over text.”

“Yeah right, I saw you two cuddled up last week!” He dejects, his arms flying around as he speaks. He doesn’t know why you decided right now is a good time to lie to him, but he knows what he saw that day.

“As if you werent spending time with some girl instead of communicating to me what’s wrong in the first place? You’re unbelievable. I can’t read your mind Seungcheol, and why do you even care about what happens between me and Wonwoo? We’re just friends remember? Or do you only say that when you’re on the phone with Jeonghan?” You spat, the words on your tongue coming out as fireballs of hurt. Every single one hitting him right in the chest.

“We are best friends. I can’t explain why I was so worked up, but if you were going to start dating him, you should’ve broken off what we had first.” Seungcheol attempts to defend himself, spewing out whatever he can to justify his acts of stupidity. He knows himself that what he’s saying wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you how in love he is with you.

“Ok so because of that, you just get to do whatever the fuck you want then huh? The rules just don’t apply to Choi Seungcheol do they? It doens’t matter if I get hurt in the process of it all.” You sneer, the cold look on your face never faltering.

“No Y/n, I know we made rules but you broke them first. I just copied your actions.” He replies, it makes you mad that he lashed out because of a misunderstanding. You feel fed up, too tired to talk to him or argue further. The tears already threatening to spill the more you look at him.

You and Seungcheol never fought, you can’t even remember the last time it happened. It was probably when you two were still kids, fighting over something silly and not talking for an hour, only to make up the same day. This fight is different though, so many things said out of anger, you knew it wouldn’t just be forgotten the next day.

“I really can’t stand you right now.” You say as a lone tear slips out, the salitness of it hitting your lips.

“Then sit.” He bites back, his facade almost cracking as he sees your tearful expression.

“Fuck you. Go home Seungcheol.” You walk to the door, opening it enough to allow him to exit your home. He doesn’t protest, his anger and sadness bubbling up faster with each second that passes. He’s smart enough to not let his temper overcome him completely.

As the door closes on him, you let out an agonizing cry. Your sobs raking through your body as if the whole earth had crashed ontop of you. The echo of your cries filling the room, mocking you, reminding you of your loneliness.

XV.

Seungcheol hasn’t been feeling well since the argument that went down a few days ago, but he can’t bring himself to contact you again. The anger and sadness he felt quickly dissipated into nothing but shame. He knows it’s his fault. Its his fault that he didn’t communicate with you properly, and the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to tell you he loves you. He doesn’t even know who he was trying to convince, but that argument with you made him realized so much about himself, you, and the friendship you two have.

The constant sleepless nights were starting to catch up with him, the bags under his eyes more prominent than they were the last night he saw you.

There are times he catches glimpses of you on campus and it pulls on his heartstrings, especailly because half the times he seen you, you’ve been with Wonwoo. It pains Seungcheol to know that you’ve been hanging out with him since the fight had gone down, but he has no right to stop you. After everything, he should be understand to let you do what you want freely.

“Well don’t you look like shit.” Jeonghan interupts his train of thought, sitting beside him in the library. He takes out his notes and laptop, ready to work on their project for theri psychology class.

“Wow thanks, I didn’t know.” Seungcheol grumbled, hating how cheerful Jeonghan looks in comparaison to his own gloomy expression.

He takes out his tablet, pulling up their project. As much as he wants to ponder about you some more, he knows that he should probably focus on the rest of the project they need to complete. But everytime he tries to focus on anything other than you he ends up failing.

“So what happened to you?” Jeonghan asks. He can tell something is wrong, both Seungcheol and Y/n have been looking so down in the dumps lately, and Y/n is flat out ignoring him, Soonyoung and Minghao.

Seungcheol can’t even hold it in anymore, if there's anyone he can talk to about what happened, he knows it's Jeonghan. Despite their quarrelling, he finds Jeonghan to be a trustworthy person.

Before he can even speak, he recalls your face, the tears that were about to spill, and the way your voice sounded when you two were fighting. He doesn't even recognize either of you from that day, it was just so out of character for the two of you to fight like that. And the only thing he can do is blame himself for everything that happened.

Seungcheol feels his throat constrict, and his eyes start to sting. He hates that feeling, the feeling of crying and being vulnerable. In all four years of knowing Jeonghan he never thought he’d be crying in front of him. But once he asked that question it was like everything came crashing down upon him once more. All the memories of you, especially the ones from your fight make his heart ache so bad he has to clutch his chest.

“Uh.. Y/n and I, we fought. It was a huge fight and it was really bad. I don’t know what to do and i’m so scared Han. I-I think I love her.” He confesses to Jeonghan, as the tears begin to slip down his cheeks.

As he explains what happened that night, Jeonghan can’t help but feel sad with him. The way Seungcheol speaks about the events leading up to the fight and the fight itself makes his heart ache for the two of you. He also can’t help but mentally scold you two. He knew from the moment that Seungcheol and Y/n decided to partake in becoming friends with benefits, that it would just blow up in flames in the end. They love each other too much to say what's really on their mind. So afraid to ruin their friendship that choosing to become friends with benefits did that for them instead.

“Then let her know how you feel.. God Seungcheol, I’ve been telling this to the two of you for years now. You need to tell her, before it's too late.” Jeonghan is practically begging him, pulling Seungcheol into a much needed hug.

…

You sit there, Wonwoo sitting beside you at the same cafe you two have been going to for the past week now. He always does the same thing, ordering your matcha latte and keep you company while you re-think your fight with Seungcheol. He can see that you’re hurting but he doesn’t ever overstep any boundaries you’ve set up. Instead he just sits there, waiting for you when you’re ready to talk to him.

You called him after your fight with Seungcheol, not knowing who else to turn to. You know that Jeonghan would’ve been available but you weren’t ready for the lecture that he would’ve given you. Calling Wonwoo that one night turned into every night, and every night turned into daily trips to the cafe. He sits there, keeps you company, you thank him and he goes home. As much as he likes you, he realizes that you’re deeply in love with your best friend, even though you won’t directly tell him.

Wonwoo knew something happened between you and Seungcheol, especially because of how red your eyes were that night you called him for the first time. As well as the fact that he caught glimpses of Seungcheol staring at you with so much longing during class, it even makes Wonwoo’s own heart ache.

“We fought over you.” You finally speak up, not bothering to stare into Wonwoo’s eyes, instead opting to swirl your latte with your straw.

“What? Why” He’s confused, why me? He asks himself.

You finally look at him, letting out a bittersweet chuckle, you wish you kenw too. Seungcheol’s distaste for you becoming closer with his friend seemed uncalled for, especially because you’re under the impression that he has no romantic feelings for you.

“Beats me.” You mutter.

“I’m sorry Y/n, I should’ve never asked you out.” He says apologetically, the remorse filling his chest. He feels bad knowing he started this fight between the two of you, but he's also mad that Seungcheol just won’t admit his feelings for you. He just doesn’t understand what was stopping him, especially since it’s so clear that you like him back.

“It's not your fault.”

“I know but you guys would’ve never have fought if it weren’t for me” He sighs, looking down at the his hands, picking at them.

“No, I’m sorry that I even roped you into all of this. I should’ve just been a normal person and tell you everything right away. Instead I’ve been dragging you along because I feel lonely.” You sigh, the guilt of including Wonwoo in all this drama starts to eat away at you.

“I want to be around Y/n, especially because you’ve been so down lately. I know you’re in love with Seungcheol, but I still want to be your friend. I hope that's ok?” He comforted you, putting a hand on top of yours.

“I want to be your friend too. I’m really sorry about everything, and I’m grateful that you’ve been helping me. You don’t know how much this all means to me Wons.” You give him a small smile, the tears starting to running down your face as you glance up at him.

You are so grateful that you and Wonwoo became so close in such a short amount of time. He is so kind to you, despite everything that’s happened. In another universe maybe you did fall for Wonwoo, and maybe you two were together and happy. But he’s not the one you’re in love with in this universe, and you’re thankful he understands that it’s strictly platonic between the two of you.

He pulls you in towards his chest, his arm wrapping around you. Staring at him, you can’t help but glance at his lips. You’re not sure what possessed you in that moment, but you feel yourself start to lean in with no rhyme or reason. Wonwoo does the same, he’s confused but he doesn’t stop himself or push you away. Maybe if you just tried…

You’re so close that you can feel his breath fan of your face, and it’s like the realization hit you like a truck. Quickly, you pull yourself from his arms. You weren’t sure what happened but maybe his warmth and reasurring words were starting to get to you, but you’re glad you stopped before you could even make the mistake for kissing him. He isn’t the one you want, and he can’t do anything to change that.

Wownoo can tell, he can tell that you don’t like him romantically, but the way you were closing in on him had him fooled just for one second.

“I know, you’re in love with him. It’s ok Y/n, I understand.” He sighs, looking at you with longing eyes.

“Yes I am.” You breathe out, before pulling away from him completely.

XVI.

“Y/nie open up! It's us.” A voice calls out from the outside of the door.

Jeonghan, Minghao, and Soonyound standing outside of your apartment, hoping you’re still alive. After your fight with Cheol, you’ve been pretty much MIA from them. Not answering any of their calls or texts, so this is their last resort. Jeonghan knows why you haven’t been contacting any of them, but he decided it’s time that the two of you finally have a talk.

His timing is a blessing and a curse, as he was the one to witness what happend the day you three went to study in the library. That’s when he knew that shit was starting to hit the fan. He’s concluded that hes had enough of the two of you being so closed off about your feelings towards eachother, and it was his time to help once more.

You contemplated opening the door, but decided that you needed the comfort right now.

“Y/nie! Are you ok?” Soonyoung comes running, tackling you into a bear hug. In this case, perhaps a tiger hug. “Hannie told us everything.”

He grabs your face, taking a closer look and inspecting your face, then making a conclusion before pulling you back into a hug. It warms your heart to see him so concerned about you, even after you’ve been ignoring them and only spending time with Wonwoo.

You know you should’ve contacted them, but they can tell what’s wrong with just one look and you know you would’ve cried if you had to explain everything. As much as you love the three of them, it would’ve hurt your heart to recall what happened between you and Seungcheol. So you stayed quiet, opting for the solitude and comfort that Wonwoo offered.

“Yes I’m ok. Dont worry your cute little head.” You say, patting his head as you savour his comforting hugs.

“We were really worried about you kiddo. I’m glad to see you’re alive.” Minghao remarks as he squeezes your shoulder reassuringly.

“Thanks Hao.”

“Ok enough with the reunion. Y/n we need to talk to you.” Jeonghan interrupts the tender moment, a small box sitting in his hands.

You arelady knew where this is going, but at this point you knew there was no way of getting out of this conversation. There is three of them and one of you.

Jeonghan sits you on the couch, his stern face coming into your view. It reminded you of the times your mother would scold you when you were younger. His hands crossed over his chest, foot tapping impatiently.

“Y/nie we love you but you really need to just come forth with your feelings about Seungcheol. The fact that you’ve kept it from him this long shows that it’s doing more harm to your friendship than good. I know you’re scared and I know you don’t want to get rejected, but you need to understand that if you don’t learn to tell him how you feel it’ll blow up in your face.” He sighs, coming down to sit next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

“I know you don’t want to fuck up your friendship with him, but how else can you move on from this if you can’t even tell him how you truly feel?” Mingaho adds, giving you a soft frown.

As you take in their words, you can’t help but feel the tears welling up again. Not just because your scared about the direction you and Cheol’s friendship is going to take, but also the fact that you’re thankful for friends who aren’t afraid to tell you the truth.

“We love you ok? And what ever happens we’ll be there to help you. Every step of the way.” Soonyoung assures you, pulling you into a another hug. You laugh a little and hug him back tighter.

“Thank you guys. I definitely needed that reality check.” you laugh as you wipe your tears.

They laugh with you, embracing you and supporting you.

“Anyways, theres something I want to show you.” Jeonghan says as he pulls back from the group embrace.

He takes the small box from beside him, presenting it to you. As you open it you grow even more confused. It was filled with letters addressed to you. From Seungcheol.

“What is this?” You look at Jeonghan, searching for an answer. He only shrugs.

“I dont know. Seungcheol gave them to me. He told me he wanted you to read them” Jeonghan reveals, peering at the stack of letters in the box. “He’s sorry you know? He said the letters will explain the things he can’t say in person.”

“Hes sorry? I-” you didn’t even know what to say, you were just scared of what all these letters could possibly hold. And why were there so many?

“Anyways we’ll leave you to it. Text us when you and Cheol finally grow some balls and confess to each other!” Jeonghan and the two sidekicks bid you goodbye. Leaving you to scour through the letters on you own.

There was one letter in particular that has a recent date written in the corner.

Dear y/n,

I know you don’t want to hear from me at the moment, and I know I’ve said some things I didn’t mean the last time we spoke. Im sorry. Im sorry I didn’t communicate properly with you, and that I left us in a vague and confusing position. I dont know what came over me. I was so used to the whole world just revolving around us two, and then when Wonwoo began to show interest, I just completely switched off.

You deserve someone as kind as him. A person who will be there for you when you need someone to lean on, a person who’s willing to hold you till you can sleep peacefully. I was always that person for you for a long time, and if i'm not the one you want anymore i’ll come to terms with that. I just want to see you happy Y/n. In the same sense that I know you want me to be happy as well.

There's not a day that goes by where I think about how thankful that I have someone like you in my life. You are my rock and sometimes you didn’t even know. The more you read these letters, the more you’ll start to realize how much you helped me. I know I would be able to survive without you, that I could do it even if it hurts me. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to live in a world where I’m living to survive, when I can be living to make you happy instead. My best friend, the one who understands me inside and out. Please come back to me angel.

I love you and always yours,

Seungcheol.

As you read through the letter you couldn’t help but burst into tears. The relief you felt knowing that he felt the same way, that he wanted you in his life just like how you wanted him. This was enough for you to know that he needs you like you need him.

You begin to sift through the countless of letters he wrote you, all of them as heart wrenching as the previous. It put into perspective all that he went through when he moved here all alone. And with each letter that you read, the harder it got to ignore to urge to just go and see him. So thats what you do.

Dropping the letters on the coffee table, you slip on a pair a shoes and head to Seungcheol’s place as fast as your legs could carry you. The snow starting to stick to your hair as it fell from the sky, the chilly weather making you shiver. But you couldn’t stop yourself, you didn’t even care. You didn't have a coat on nor a warm pair of shoes, the only thing preserving your heat is the thought of finally confessing your love to Seungcheol.

After ten minutes of speed walking, you find yourself in front of his door. You knock, nervously, your heart beating a hundred miles per hour. You aren’t really sure what to expect, but you knew that you just needed to see him. Even if you were shivering, even if your hair and clothes are damp from the snow.

The door opens to reveal the man who you consider home.

“Y/n? Holy shit you must be freezing come inside.” He ushers you in and you oblige happily. “Why did you come in your PJ’s? Are you crazy? You're gonna get sick.” He worries, grabbing your face, scolding you.

“I needed to see you.” You pant, tired from how fast you walked.

“Lets get you some warm clothes first.” He states, grabbing your hand to lead him to his room. Marching over to his drawer he grabs you a pair of sweats and one of his large tshirts. You’re completely engulfed in fabric but at least you’re warm.

“Seungcheol I’m in love with you.” You tell him right before he goes to grab you a hot cup of tea. Better late than never, you thought.

He turns around, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Your neck turns red as the blush starts to creep its way up your cheeks. Seungcheol doesn’t say much more, his actions doing all the talking for him.

Taking your face in his hands, he swallows you into a kiss. Pressing his lips against yours with the same amount of passion and vigour as the first night you kissed him. You whimper at the sudden affection, fisting his hair in your hands to ground you.

He pulls way. “I’m so in love with you too Y/n.”

He goes back to kissing you, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding on so tight that you’re convinced he thinks you’ll disappear into thin air if he didn’t hold you close.

“I love you, I love you my angel.” He keeps repeating those three words. Three words that finally replaced the dreaded “you’re my bestfriend” statement.

“You’re my best friend and I love you.” You whisper to him against his lips.

Epilogue.

“Just keep watching the movie love.” Seungcheol warns you, his tongue playing skillfully with your clit as you try to do what he says. Your legs are spread for him, your hips grinding against his face, it’s pure bliss. The pleasure Seungcheol gives you seems to work better than any drug that’s been created.

You don’t know what happened, one moment you two were sitting on his couch, watching Howl’s Moving Castle for the millionth time. The next moment you’re watching your boyfriend kneel in front of you, eating you out while you try to concentrate on the movie playing on the tv.

“Seungcheol please…” You moan, his hair intertwined with your fingers as he continued to lick at your folds. You can hear how wet you are and it makes your head spin, the pleasure, the feeling of Cheols tongue grazing against you, it’s all too much.

“You like this don’t you baby? You like it when your boyfriend eats you out on his couch?” He taunts you as he pumps two fingers into you now, wanting to see you the way your eyebrows scrunch from all the pleasure.

You love the way he calls himself your boyfriend, the label rolling off his tongue perfectly. It was like he was meant to be called that all along. It’s only been a week since you two started dating officially but you’ll never get tired of hearing him tell you that he’s your boyfriend.

“Yes! P-please I need you now, please baby.” You whine and beg as he teases you, his fingers still playing with your entrance. All you can do is watch him, your eyes lidded with so much desire that Seungcheol can probably come just from looking at you.

He relinquishes his hold on you, getting up to sit on the couch before manhandling you into the position he wants you in. Placing you on his lap, he takes off his sweats, revealing his hard member. You drool at the sight of it, ready to take him for all he’s worth.

“Look at how hard you got me love.” He whispers to you, placing a kiss on your lips after. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you moan against his mouth.

Without breaking away from him, you lift yourself up to align his length against the entrance of your needy cunt. Slowly but surely you lower yourself, causing you to gasp against Seungcheol’s lips, feeling him stretch you.

“How are you still so fucking tight.” He mutters to you, his hands breaching the hem of the large shirt that you’re wearing. He fondles your breasts, pinching your nipples as you bounce yourself on his lap. Groaning at your actions, he lifts the shirt completely off your body, taking the opportunity to take one of your mounds and enclosing his lips around it.

“Hmm so close baby.” You tell him, feeling your climax coming on. He groans as he continues to suck on your nipples, his hands snaking around to your ass to grope at the flesh. He grips you tight, forcing you up and down faster, releasing his mouth from your chest.

Seungcheol’s head leans against the couch to admire how sexy you look riding his cock. He doesn’t let go of your ass, slapping it and groping it till you’ve fully orgasmed.

“Fuck you’re so sexy.” He mutters, driving you into overstimulation as he fucks up into you, his own release closely following yours. You clench at his words, your pussy gripping him like a vice, and it finally sends him into his own orgasm, his come filling you completely.

“I love you.” He says, giving you one last kiss before finding a wash cloth to clean you with.

“I love you too.”

⌗ 𓂃 end.

a/n: you've reached the end! i hoped you enjoyed the story, because i know i loved writing it :")). if you have any thoughts, questions, or just want to chat, dont be afraid to visit my ask box <;3 - anna

𖠗 𓂃 。˚ ⋆ taglist: @mysafehaneul @christinewithluv @soonyoonswoo @aaniag @iluvmingi @auniverseline @k07-1313 @idubutily @kmoon @leah-rose03 @ana-marais98 @xcynthiaaa @wonwoo24 @yelsuki @yuyunhoo @sana-is-ms-rmty @hwashiningstar @svt-reads @imprettyweird

#seungcheol #scoups #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fic #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fanfic #scoups smut #scoups x reader #scoups fic #scoups fanfic #seventeen angst #wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {works}#wonustars ✧.* {fics: seungcheol’s letters}

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withwritersblock · 1 month ago

Text

Mistakes Like This

~Mistakes Like This by Prelow~

Author's Note: Requested! I've rewritten this like four times, I'm sorry :( Summary: Besties to lovers/situationship (you know how much I love this trope) Warnings; brief smut scene Word Count: 9,215 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

The friend group was one of the ones that happened by chance. One of the ones that spark from picking a random day for college orientation. Most of them were from the hockey team and soccer teams while Y/N and her newly found best friend, Zoey, both played on the lacrosse team.

They spent every possible day together after school started. They all lived on the same dorm floor and were constantly hanging out in each other’s room. A lot of the time, they would all hang out in Y/N’s room. She was the only one with a single room.

Tonight was no different as the eight of them were all crowded in her room. She was sprailed out on her bed, an ice pack behind her thigh. She pulled her hamstring last night at practice and it was getting more sore as the day went on.

Zoey was sprailed out on the floor with Ethan, Mark, and Dylan. Miles and Chloe were on the spare bed in her room laying on opposite sides of the bed. Luke was sitting beside Y/N, pressing his back against the wall.

He was absentmindedly toying with the blankets that were laying over his lap. It was draped over Y/N’s legs too. Everyone was shouting loudly towards each other, laughing and talking about their weekend plans. Except Y/N and Luke. They were both sitting quietly. Y/N wouldn’t look at Luke, her heart was pounding hard against her chest.

It wasn’t weird for the two of them to be the quiet ones in the group. They were the only ones that seemed to have a social battery. It was common for them to be social for days at a time before they needed alone time.

Sometimes they could be alone together. Normally not close, enjoying each other’s company and quiet. Right now, they were enjoying each other’s company in the sea of loudness that was their friends. Every so often, their eyes would connect and small smiles would form on their lips.

He looked towards her, tapping her hand delicately. Turning her head to the side, she met Luke’s soft gaze. “How’s your leg?” he asked quietly. She shrugged while she swallowed harshly. He nodded as his lips fell into a small pout.

“Anything I can do?” he questioned as he looked over her features. She was tired, probably in a lot more pain than she was letting on. She shook her head slightly as she tilted her head back against the pillow. He took a deep breath, looking towards the rest of the people in the small space.

“Hey guys, let’s move this party to my room,” Luke expressed as he began to climb off of the bed, readjusting the blanket over Y/N’s lap. All of them looked towards him expectantly, “She won’t tell you guys this but she wants to be alone and nap,” Luke said as he stared towards her. She fought off a grin on her lips.

“I didn’t say that,” she offered.

“But your face tells all,” Luke teased as he waved his hand in front of his own face. Rolling her eyes playfully, she pursed her lips forward. “Come on guys, leave Y/N alone to her beauty sleep,” he teased again. Everyone soon stood up, mingling amongst themselves. Shouting goodbyes towards her. Luke waited near the door, watching everyone leave.

Their eyes connected. The corner of his lips curled upward as he continued to look towards her. “Thank you,” she whispered while bringing the blanket closer to her face. He nodded before he snuck out of the room, letting it shut behind him. She winced slightly as she adjusted her body with the ice pack beneath her leg. A sigh left her lips before she slowly let her eyes shut.

~~~

The following night, there was a huge frat party that the eight of them were supposed to attend. She initially promised that she would go. But her body was still aching, it seemed like it was getting better. She sat at her vanity, a Truly can beside her and her flat iron in her hand.

She has yet to start doing anything to her hair, still not sure what the best look would be. She rested it down on the vanity again as she felt her posture straighten.

There was a knock against her door, she forced her gaze towards the door. She let out a sigh, “Come in,” she muttered.

Luke poked his head into the room, a grin formed to his lips before he stepped inside. “Do you wanna go to this thing?” he asked quietly. He pressed his back against the door as he scanned her frame. He cleared his throat as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“No,” she said through a small chuckle.

He grinned while pushing away from the door. “Me neither,” he let out with a shrug. “I have a taste for frozen yogurt, wanna come with me and ditch this thing?” he questioned. She fought off a smile as she unplugged her flat iron. Quickly, she stood up from the stool and met his gaze.

“Please,” she said, “Spin around, I have to change first,” she said as she slowly motioned for him to spin around. He let out a sudden laugh as he spun on his heels and shoved his hands into his pocket.

“Yes ma’am,” he teased while he pursed his lips forward.

Once she saw that he was completely facing away from her, she slipped her skirt from her frame and kicked it away from her frame. Instantly, she took a hold of a pair of shorts folded on top of her dresser. It took a few seconds before she pulled it up over her frame.

“Did you tell anyone that we’re ditching?” she asked as she unzipped her tight corset top from her frame. She dropped it to the floor as she walked toward her closet. Reaching inside, she pulled out her zip up hoodie.

“I told Dylan, sorta implied that you were joining,” he let out quietly. She chuckled as she zipped up her jacket.

“Was he mad?” she asked as she walked towards him, tapping her hand against his shoulder. Luke spun around, meeting her gaze. He shook his head slightly as an answer. She took a hold of her phone and her keys. “Good because I have been craving frozen yogurt for days,” she let out as she began walking past him.

He rolled his eyes playfully as he began to follow after her. “I think Zoey’s going to be pissed that I missed another party,” she said as she stepped outside of the dorm room. Luke slid out of the door as he waited beside her.

Quickly, she locked the door and began walking down the hall with a small limp to her step. “If you tell her you’re still hurting, she’ll get over it,” he offered as he began walking side by side with her. Their eyes connected, a small smile formed to his lips.

“She can’t know I’m still hurting. I can’t play if she knows,” she explained as she pressed the down button on the elevator.

“You shouldn’t be playing if you are hurting,” Luke offered as he rested his hands onto his hips. She rolled her eyes as a breathy laugh left her lips.

“Says the hockey player that played a rivalry game with a busted up shoulder earlier this season,” she shot back while meeting his eye.

“And then I was out for six weeks,” he said as he smiled knowingly. Her lips parted as she looked into his eyes. Swallowing harshly, she forced her gaze towards the elevator doors opening. “So you should definitely let it heal,”

“It’s a pulled muscle,” she said as she walked backwards into the elevator. He scoffed as he shook his head.

“Pulled muscles can tear, Y/N,” Luke let out while looking into her eyes.

“I’ll take it easy,” she said while she watched his eyes squint slightly.

“You better,” he teased as he pointed his finger towards her. She pushed his hand away from her face. She leaned past him as she pressed the lobby button. Their eyes remained connected as he let out a small laugh.

“I promise,” she mumbled. He smirked as he nodded slowly. “I promise!” she drew out the word as she smiled softly. He grinned while rolling his eyes.

“My car is across the lot, if you want I can jog down there and pull up to the building,” he offered as the elevator doors pulled open. He began walking backwards as their eyes remained connected. Slowly, she followed after him.

“I’ll be fine,” she muttered while fighting off a smirk. “I can walk, Luke,”

“I mean I can carry you, if it hurts too bad,” Luke said teasingly, still walking backwards. Every few seconds, he looked behind him to make sure he wasn’t running into anything.

“Oh shut up, Lukey,” she said through a giggle. He grinned while spinning around and waiting for her to walk beside him. “So what excuse did you give Dylan on why you didn’t want to go to the party?” she asked softly.

He pushed the door open and they both stepped out of the dorm building and began walking towards the parking lot directly across from the dorm building.

“Didn’t need to give him one, just said I didn’t want to go,” he expressed while raising his eyebrows.

“Wish my best friend was that easy to bypass,” she mumbled.

“You still haven’t told her that you aren’t going yet, have you?” he asked teasingly. She smirked while shaking her head.

“She’s a textbook extrovert, she doesn’t understand,” she explained while bumping into him slightly as they walked. He nodded as they continued to walk through the smal grass divider before the parking lot.

“Well, let’s enjoy our Friday night with some quiet, right?” he offered. She nodded with a small smile.

The walk towards his car only took a few more minutes. The drive to the frozen yogurt place took ten minutes. The entire drive it was comfortable silence mixed with soft music playing. No matter who was driving, Luke always let her play the music. He never cared what music they listened to and most of the time she played songs that he enjoyed too.

They were always good at sitting in comfortable silence. Their other friends hated silence, always needing to fill the room with something. But they were always good at being just them. They have been that way since they first met.

Everyone else was asleep. The overnight orientation trip was dedicated to meeting new people and making friends. She didn’t realize that also meant staying in the same room all night long. The dorm room was a suite that was split in two. Each room had two beds.

Chloe and Zoey were sharing a bed while the rest of the boys were sharing reluctantly. Even though they all had the option of going back to their own dorm room they were assigned for orientation.

Luke and Y/N were the only ones that were awake. They were sitting on the floor, their backs pressed against the giant dresser at the center of the room. Their shoulders would brush every few seconds.

It was past two in the morning, they all had to be awake by seven in the morning. All of the festivities began again at eight. Y/N was exhausted, her entire frame felt like a weighted blanket was draped over her body.

She could tell he was tired but sleep was hard to come by. This was technically his room, he had nowhere to sleep. But Dylan told everyone they could crash in there and he was not happy.

She clenched her jaw as she stared ahead, watching Ethan roll away from Dylan. She tilted her head back against the dresser, clenching her jaw slightly. Luke tilted his head to the side, looking over her side profile.

She was like a painting. Everything about her was so beautifully handcrafted. She was perfect in every way. Her humor was unstoppable and her smile was intoxicating. His legs went weak the first time that she smiled towards him. Her laugh instantly became his favorite sound.

He swallowed harshly as she shifted her gaze towards him. Their eyes met once again, he watched as her eyes softened while looking towards him. “Wanna crash at my dorm? I don’t have a roommate,” she whispered. He furrowed his eyebrows as he pulled his head back. A breathy chuckle fell from her lips, “I mean you could use my spare bed.”

“I didn’t think–yeah, let’s go,” he whispered back as he began to stand up. She followed in pursuit as they stood directly in front of one another. Their faces were only a few inches apart. Her breathing picked up as she looked over his features urgently. He pressed his lips together as he pointed towards the door.

Nodding, she followed after him. She was careful to walk over Miles who was sprailed out on the center of the floor. Luke waited for her by the door as he slowly pulled it open.

She smiled towards him as they began to sneak out of the room together. Luke pulled the key from his pocket and spun around to lock the door. He followed after towards her room which was on the opposite side of the hallway without any hesitation.

They walked side by side as they walked up towards the somewhat sketchy frozen yogurt shop. It was the only business that had lights on in the suspiciously dark parking lot. Although, she was okay with it because Luke was walking protectively close to her.

He took a hold of the door and held it open for her. She smiled towards him as she stepped inside. They were instantly greeted by the people near the register. Luke and Y/N smiled politely towards them as they walked directly towards the table that had the cups.

Luke instantly took a hold of the largest container and smirked towards her. She rolled her eyes playfully as she happily took a hold of the medium. She followed after him towards the frozen yogurt.

It didn’t take long for either of them to stack their container full of frozen yogurt and toppings. Luke rested his onto the weight thing, staring towards her expectantly. “It was my idea, put it down,” he said, letting out a dry laugh. She shook her head slightly as she placed down beside his cup.

The girl at the cash register glanced between them before she began to calcuate the total. Luke happily handed her his card as he glanced back towards her. “Thank you,” Y/N let out quietly. He nodded as he waited for the girl to hand his card back towards him.

“Thanks for joining me,” he leaned down towards her, whispering. After handing his card back towards him, the girl’s eyes widened as she fought off a grin. She continued to shift her gaze between the pair.

Y/N smiled towards him as she shyly took a hold of her container again. She took a purple spoon as she began to walk backwards away from the register. He quickly followed after her, instantly bringing a spoonful towards his mouth.

She slammed her body into the door, pushing it open as a giggle fell from her lips. “This was probably my best idea I’ve ever had,” he offered teasingly.

“Oh please,” she let out sarcastically as she began walking well in front of him. He rolled his eyes playfully as he brought another spoonful to his mouth. After a few seconds, she brought her own spoon towards her mouth and took a dramatic spoonful of her own frozen yogurt. “I fear you might be right,” she offered teasingly.

“I knew it,” he said with a smirk. She fought off a grin as she took a fast step towards his car. He reached into his pocket and unlocked his car. She took a hold of the car door handle and climbed inside of the car. Luke followed in pursuit. After he sat down in the seat, he rested his container in the center council. He put his keys into the ignition and turned the car on.

“I’ve missed chocolate,” she mumbled before she brought another spoonful towards her lips. “If my coach found out I was eating this, I would be dead,” she expressed. He nodded as he handed her the charger to play some music. Her eyes widened as she urgently connected her phone to it.

“My coach will not find out,” he let out with a teasing grin on his lips. She selected the playlist that was dedicated to Luke. It was all songs that she knew that Luke liked. It was every song that she’s heard him hum along to or even sing the lyrics to. He didn’t know that she had a playlist like this, but that was the whole point.

Her phone started vibrating in her hand instantly. A sigh left her lips as she reluctantly took her phone off of the charger. She brought it towards her ear.

“Where the hell are you!?” Zoey shouted loudly into the phone. Y/N pulled the phone away for a second before she put it back against her ear.

“I changed my mind about coming, I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” Y/N said softly, she glanced towards Luke. He shifted his body to face her while resting his head against the window. He kept swirling his spoon around the frozen yogurt, slowly.

“You seri–ously ditched again! What are you doing!?” Zoey asked loudly. The music at the party was so loud, Luke could even hear it.

“With Luke getting–”

“Suprise! Surprise! You two always ditch the fucking parties! I’m s–so over it!” she shouted into the phone before hanging up. Y/N carefully pulled her phone away from her ear, a sigh leaving her lips.

Luke adjusted his body as he scanned her frame. Y/N reached toward the charger and plugged her phone back in. The playlist she dedicated to Luke started playing again. A soft country song started playing. The corner of his lips curled upward at the song.

“So Zoey’s mad,” she let out softly before she brought a spoonful to her mouth. Luke tilted his head to the side as he watched her avoid his gaze. He would never admit it out loud but he was not Zoey’s biggest fan. If Y/N wasn’t always at her beck and call, she would be so mad.

“Let her be mad,” he let out softly. A small scoff left her lips before she tilted her head back against the headrest. “I’m serious, she’ll be fine,”

“She’s mad at you too,” Y/N said while looking towards him. Their eyes met as she felt her heart jump into her throat. He smiled softly towards her as he adjusted his sitting position.

“Yeah, well Zoey’s always mad at me so,” Luke said with a chuckle leaving his lips. She fought off a smirk forming to her lips as she rolled her eyes playfully. “This is so much better than a fucking party.”

“Is it?” she asked teasingly. He nodded dramatically. “Definitely a lot better,” she agreed. He smirked before he brought a comically large spoonful towards his mouth.

It didn’t take long for them to finish their frozen yogurt, he jumped out of the car with the empty containers and tossed them in a nearby trash can. He quickly bolted back into the car. His body straightened as he reached for his seatbelt.

“Ready to head back?” he asked quietly. She nodded as she took a hold of her own seatbelt and covered her own frame. He reached towards the volume button and turned it up.

The drive back to the drom building didn’t take long. They only listened to about four songs in the process. She sang happily to every song that played and Luke would look towards her every few seconds; just to get a glimpse of her smile.

He was able to get a closer parking spot and they both jumped out of the car. They did not say anything while they walked back towards the dorm building. Again walking side by side in comfortable silence.

Although, his mind was busy. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. It’s been months almost a year since he’s thought about her as more than a friend. It was during a party and he kept watching her dance from afar.

He loved watching her move so effortlessly. He loved the way her hair moved and the way her smile would light up the dark frat living room. Their eyes would connect and his heart would jump into his throat. He would watch her smile widen and he needed to be close to her but he was afraid.

He never wanted to ruin the perfect little friendship they created. Beautiful comfortable silence and enjoying each other’s company. He never wanted to ruin that. But right now, he was starting to think about her lips. Her perfect lips.

Clearing his throat, he realized that they had already reached the elevator to their floor. He pressed his back against the wall of the elevator, he tilted his head to the side as he looked towards Y/N. Their eyes connected and for a second Luke thought she was thinking the same thing. But he shook his head slightly as he dropped his gaze towards the floor.

She tilted her head back against the wall while she stared towards the numbers climb. He did the same thing as he felt his body tense. His mind was still wandering, trying to figure out what it would be like to kiss her. He wanted to know what it was like to feel her lips against his.

Slowly, the elevator doors pulled open. Their eyes connected while he held his hand up. She nodded with a small grin on her lips. He stepped out of the elevator first as he quickly began to walk backwards away. She followed after him, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

They began walking towards her dorm room. Their arms bumped into one another as they stopped short in front of her door. Slowly, she pulled her keys from her pocket. Meeting Luke’s gaze for a second before she unlocked the door. She unlocked the door, feeling Luke step closer towards her.

She pulled the key from the door as she shoved it back into her pocket. She glanced towards him before she turned to stand directly in front of him. He scanned her features as he pressed his lips together.

“Do you want to stay for a bit?” she asked quietly. He nodded as his gaze flickered all over her features, lingering on her lips. “Luke,” she mumbled. He took a deep breath before he reached towards her, taking a hold of her cheek. He pulled her towards him, stopping just short of kissing her desperately.

Her eyes widened as her hands landed onto his chest. He dragged his thumb across her cheek as he looked into her eyes. He saw her eyes dilate while looking into them. Slowly, he ran his hand from her cheek towards the base of her neck.

He leaned towards her, pressing his lips against hers delicately. He waited for her to pull away. He was hesitant with the way his lips pressed against hers.

Her entire body erupted in heat, her shoulders relaxed as her lips parted allowing him to deepen the kiss. He slipped his tongue into her mouth as she tugged him closer to her. Their lips moved in perfect sync as Luke took a hold of her hips and pressed her back against the door.

Luke pulled her body closer to him, their bodies instantly pressed together. Her heart was slamming against her chest as she felt drunk with his lips desperately locked against hers.

Quickly, she took a hold of the door handle and opened the door. They stumbled inside, their lips still attached as Luke slowly guided her inside.The door slowly shut behind them, slowly he pressed her body against the door. He pulled her hips towards him as her hands landed on the base of his neck.

He pulled back slightly, needing to take an urgent breath. He watched her eyes flicker open. Luke reached behind her, carefully twisting the lock. Their eyes remained connected as a thousand words were being shared between them.

Their noses bumped into one another, a breathy laugh left her lips as she ran her hand down his chest. He leaned towards her, tilting his head to the side. He brushed his lips against her ear.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he questioned breathily against her ear. Without hesitation she took a hold of his strong jaw and pulled his gaze back towards her. Their eyes connected as the corner of her swollen lips curled upward.

“Please don’t stop,” she whispered as she dragged her thumb across his jawline. He smirked before he leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. He took a hold of her hips and began to guide her through the small dorm room. Both of them were stumbling back towards the bed.

They both began to kick their shoes away from them, giggles falling from their lips as they continued to stumble towards the bed. Slowly, she pulled her lips away from his as she sat down on the bed, looking up towards him. He looked down towards her, watching her look up towards him through her eyelashes.

Luke let out a huff of air as he took a hold of his t-shirt and pulled it up off of his frame. She pursed her lips forward as she felt her breath get caught in her throat. Slowly, she slid back on the bed with their eyes connected.

“Can I?” he asked as he stepped closer to the bed. She nodded as their eyes continued to remain connected. Biting her bottom lip, she nodded allowing him to climb on top of her. His gaze dipped towards her lips for a second before he looked back into her eyes. He watched her nod slowly before he leaned towards her, kissing her desperately.

After a few minutes, he slowly began to trail his lips down on her neck. He continued to climb down her frame while slowly tugging at the zipper of the zip up hoodie. It fell against the mattress, exposing her chest. Arching her back up into him, he smirked as he slowly began to lower his lips down her stomach. He sucked and slowly swirled his tongue.

She pressed her lips together as she tilted her head back. He smirked as he looked up towards her. She sat up slightly, pulling it completely off of her frame. She tossed it onto the floor.

Slowly, he dipped one finger beneath her waistband teasingly. The small motion sent a shock of electricity through her frame. Luke began to climb up her frame, trailing wet kisses up her frame. Grazing his hand up her side.

Biting her bottom lip as she forced her gaze back down towards Luke. Their eyes met and a grin formed to his lips before he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers urgently. A soft hum fell from her lips as she arched her back into him.

Their tongues connected instantly, swirling perfectly in sync. Her hands glided through his curls, tugging at the strands. He reached down and took a hold of her thigh, pulling it up towards him.

“Luke,” she mumbled against his lips. He pulled back, their noses bumping into one another. His eyes slowly flickered open, meeting her gaze. A soft smile formed to his lips as he looked over her.

“You okay?” he asked softly, watching her eyes dilate.

“More than okay,” she mumbled as she took a hold of the base of his neck as she pulled him towards her again. He giggled against her lips, kissing her again. Her hands began to glide along his upper back, desperate to feel more and more of his skin. Craving his touch, his lips, his everything.

He took a hold of the bra strap, letting it pull away from her skin. He toyed with it before he let it snap back in place. Tilting her head back, she allowed him to press his lips down the center of her neck. Leaving wet kisses in his place. Her breathing quickened as she bit her bottom lip.

Arching her back into him, she let her arms fall beside her head. Luke leaned back, tugging at his pants; desperate for some release. Her eyes lit up as she watched him stand up from the bed, tugging his sweats from his frame, letting them drop towards the floor.

Their eyes connected as if communicating through their longing gazes. A soft smile formed to his lips as he took a hold of the backs of her legs, parting them open as he climbed back on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his hips as a grin was on her lips.

She was drunk. It was rare for her to drink, let alone be so lost in her thoughts she probably would barely remember her actions. He was drunk. It was rare for him to drink, let alone be so lost in his thoughts he probably would barely remember his actions.

She saw him from across the sea of the party, her body was pulling her towards him as if it was a magnet. She never saw him as more than a friend. He was just Luke. The guy that she could spend every waking moment with and never get annoyed or tired. Her social battery could be in the negatives and she could never get tired of being around him.

Her body was only covered with a tight black dress. An outfit she would never be caught dead wearing but she promised Zoey that she would dress up. Y/N would never tell Zoey that she was right but Y/N has never felt hotter. She sauntered towards him, their eyes connected.

He didn’t move while tilting his head back against the wall. Their eyes stayed connected as she continued walking closer and closer to him. He had a red solo cup in his hand, it was practically full.

Well, not anymore. The moment their eyes met and his mind started wandering to places he hasn’t been for months; he needed to drown his thoughts. Except the three shots of tequila Dylan gave him in one cup was making it worse.

Y/N stood in front of him, looking up towards him with so much desire pouring from her gaze. She took a step towards him, reaching her hand up and taking a hold of the base of his neck.

Leaning into him, she turned his head to the side while gliding her thumb along the side of his neck. “Dance with me right now, Hughesy,” she whispered into his ear. Her lips barely brushed against his ear but he clenched his jaw. His entire body practically jolted as she leaned back, their faces nearly an inch apart.

“Let’s get it, Y/N,” he whispered towards her as he rested the cup on a small table beside them. He looped his arm around her waist, guiding her towards the center of the dance floor. She pulled her hair away from her shoulder, allowing him to hover his lips over her neck.

Instantly she pressed her back against his chest and they began to move in sync. Breathy giggles and laughs fell from their lips. Ttheir drunken minds guided them to paths they promised themselves they would never dare to cross. But they were toying with the line of more. Something more, desperately craving something more.

~~~

The following morning, he was awake well before her. His heart was slamming against his chest as he looked over her sleepy features. He ran his fingers through his hair as he slammed his head against the pillow while taking a deep breath.

His mind was quickly thinking about how every aspect of his life is different now. All because of one impulsive decision. If this goes badly, all of his friends will be gone. Or at least the friend group they know would be gone. Everything will be different, he knows that.

His mind pictured her, how beautiful she looked. Her body was everything and more. She was perfect. He squinted his eyes shut, feeling his body heat up in the memory of each moan that left her lips. Each breathy whisper of his name, with her lips pressed against his ear. The way her hands glided along his skin, leaving faint scratch marks in their place.

It was as if their bodies were made for one another, desperately craving each perfect touch. Knowing the exact moment when to quicken and slow the pace. It was no practice run, pure perfection from the moment their lips connected.

Until this moment. The morning after the probable mistake they shared. He didn’t want it to be a mistake. He hoped she didn’t want it to be a mistake.

She began to stir beside him, she rolled over as her eyes slowly flickered open. Her lips parted as their eyes connected. “Hey,” she whispered as she pulled the blanket closer to her face. He took a deep breath as he scanned her features. She closed her eyes harshly for only a second before they opened up again. A small smile formed on her lips before she pursed her lips forward. A shaky breath falling from her lips.

“Hi,” he let out barely audible before he swallowed harshly.

They laid beside each other, letting silence fill the room. He tapped his fingertips against the top of his hand. She squeezed the comforter as she rolled onto her back, letting it drap over her chest perfectly.

She thought it was a mistake that’s what he concluded. She was a shy person, not really talkative in general. But she was always open and comfortable with him except right now it was the furthest from him she’s ever been. And she is laying right beside him, their shoulders nearly brushing one another’s.

He nodded as he stared towards the ceiling. His mind began to replay every moment from the night before. His skin instantly flushed red as he thought about how different everything was going to be between them now. He hated that.

“I’m gonna go,” he let out quickly.

“Yeah that’s probably good,” she muttered as she rolled on her side to face the wall. Luke instantly stood up from the bed beginning to cover his frame with his clothes as he practcially stumbled towards the exit of the room. He was hopping as he was pulling up his pants, practically jumping towards the door.

He awkwardly stumbled back towards the bed as his phone and keys rested on the nightstand. He muttered out a collection of curse words as he walked quickly towards the door; awkwardly holding his shoes in his hands as he wanted out of the room as instantly as possible.

Her eyes were squinted shut as she pressed her lips together, muffling a small laugh fighting to leave her lips. It was the most awkward morning she has ever had after a hookup. Not that she had plenty of experiences of a moment like this but this was definitely the most awkward.

Luke awkwardly slammed the door shut while walking out of the room.

A giggle fell from her lips as she fell onto her back and stared towards the ceiling. It shouldn’t have been awkward. It was Luke. Everything was always so perfect and normal with him, but now she could feel it being off.

Her phone vibrated beside her, she was hoping the message to be from Luke asking to talk about what happened; but it wasn’t. A sigh fell from her lips as the text message was from Ethan to the eight person group chat.

Ethan: Breakfast???

The text seemed to be a popular response as nearly everyone but Dylan, Luke, and Y/N replied to it stating they’ll be at the dining hall in twenty minutes. Her eyes progressively grew wider as each person replied, knowing that now it would be weird if she didn’t go.

Especially after ditching last night, it was important that she went. Making her rounds of apologizes for not going, it was important to Zoey more or less. She liked the message that Chloe sent stating she would be there in twenty minutes, agreeing that she too would be there in twenty minutes.

Luke stood outside of his own dorm door, staring at the notification that Y/N would be joining. A sigh fell from his lips as he shoved the phone into his pocket before he began to shove his key into the door. He pushed open the door aggressively.

Dylan jolted up at the sound of the door opening. His face was scrunched together, a groan fell from his lips as he smashed his face down into the pillow beside him. “Where the hell have you been?” he let out loudly as his face was still pressed into the pillow.

Luke stopped short as he dropped his shoes near the pile of his other ones. His mouth fell open while he shook his head. He didn’t know how to say it without telling Dylan what they were up to all night.

“Hello!” Dylan let out as he reluctantly lifted his head from the pillow. Squinting his eyes shut, he held his hand to the side of his head. After a few seconds, he slowly began to open his eyes and shut them again.

“I fell asleep at Y/N’s,” Luke let out as normal as he could. He sat down on his bed, a huff of air leaving his lips. Dylan looked towards Luke, looking up and down his frame. Luke watched Dylan’s eyes slowly open and get wider and wider.

“You couldn’t walk three doors down to your own bed?” Dylan questioned while reached towards the Advil bottle on his nightstand.

“We were watching that reality show she likes and I fell asleep. She let me stay,” he explained, completely avoiding eye contact. The second their eyes would meet, a smirk would fall on Luke’s lips. He was horrible at keeping secrets, especially with Dylan. There was nothing that was secret between them, especially with girls.

But Y/N wasn’t any girl. She was someone that Luke’s has had on and off feelings for, for months. Dylan knew that which meant he couldn’t know.

“She hates when people stay the night in her room being that we all live on the same floor,” Dylan let out, egging him on.

“Well I’m her favorite of any of us so,” he let out as he flopped onto his back, holding his hand against his forehead. Dylan hummed dramatically before he dropped the pill onto his tongue and took a long sip of water. Dylan’s eyes widened as he stared towards Luke.

“Well with that hickey on your neck, I’d say so,” Dylan said with a smirk toying his lips.

“With what?” he muttered. Luke reached his hand up towards his neck, as if he could feel it against his skin. He pulled his phone from his pocket. Instantly, he pulled up his camera app to check. Tilting his head to the side scanning his own features and neck through the camera app.

He didn’t find anything, not even a hint of a hickey. He clenched his jaw as he fought off a smirk. He tilted his head while meeting Dylan’s gaze. “You’re a fucking dou–”

“I knew it! You guys fucked last night!” Dylan teased, his hangover seemingly disappearing the second the words left his lips. Luke couldn’t even deny it. He sat up, swinging his legs off of the bed. His cheeks flushed red instantly as he reluctantly met Dylan’s gaze.

“I hate you,” Luke mumbled as he ran his fingers through his curls.

“How was it, Hughesy!?” Dylan asked excitedly.

“We’re not talking about this and you don’t know anything,” Luke said while pointing his finger towards Dylan. Luke stood up reluctantly walking towards his bathroom, to get ready to head for breakfast.

“Oh come on! Now you don’t give me any details!? I had to hear about you and Y/N dancing together at that party three weeks ago for like an hour. But when you two have sex, I can’t know a single detail!?” Dylan begged while standing up from the bed.

“We didn’t even talk about it yet, so no you don’t get details until I figure out what the hell this means,” Luke expressed before he rounded the corner towards the bathroom. Dylan’s mouth fell open as a scoff fell from his lips.

Luke stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. A sigh falling from his lips as he stared towards the dramatic red color cascading over his cheeks. Instantly, he reached over and took a hold of his toothbrush.

It didn’t take long for the both of them to be ready to walk over to the dining hall. The entire time Dylan was asking questions but Luke refused to answer. It was easier to just walk silently, mentally replaying every second from the night before. He didn’t even know what to tell Dylan, he didn’t even know exactly what it meant.

Luke and Dylan walked into the dining hall at the same time, spotting the group already sitting down and talking. All of them already had food in front of them. Y/N was the only one that was missing.

Dylan proudly walked towards them, resting both of his hands onto his hips. “Cannot believe we’re all up before ten, truly a miracle after last night,” he announced before he dapped up Ethan before he wandered around the table.

“You’re oddly not hungover,” Miles muttered before he shoved a dramatic bite of bacon into his mouth.

“Oh boys–gals,” he paused as he glanced towards Zoey and Chloe, “I am just in an amazing mood, aren’t you Hughesy?” Dylan teased.

Luke’s eyes widened as he nodded, “Yeah–yup,” he muttered before he walked away towards the food stations.

Ethan furrowed his eyebrows harshly before he shrugged his shoulders. “We’re heading to the bars tonight, you in Duker?” Ethan called out. Dylan dramatically nodded his head, regretting his choice as he covered his face with his hands.

“Y/N here?” Dylan asked.

“She’s grabbing food,” Zoey muttered. Dylan nodded, staring towards the two empty seats in front of him. Instantly plotting to stay sat until they’re forced to sit beside one another. “Are you not eating?” she questioned, meeting his eyes.

“I’ll wait till Lukey’s back,” he said simply while he pulled his phone from his pocket. He began to scroll and click different apps simply to keep himself occupied.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to return and sit directly across from Dylan. Her head was buried in a hoodie as she reluctantly stared towards the very minimal amount of food on her plate.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Dylan offered with a smirk on his lips.

“Morning,” she muttered before she pushed a piece of cantaloupe around on her plate. Dylan’s smirk fell from his lips after he saw her, something was off.

Luke wandered back towards the table, slowing down after realized the only spot available was beside Y/N. He looked towards Dylan, realizing that he set that up on purpose.

Y/N lifted her head up, looking towards Luke. Without fully realizing it a soft smile formed to her lips. Luke took that as a good sign as he wandered towards her. He put his plate down and sat beside her. Dylan instantly stood up after Luke sat down, deseprate for his own plate of food.

Luke and Y/N’s eyes connected for a few seconds before Luke scanned her features for a few seconds. “That’s all you're eating? Don’t you have practice at like 10:30?” Luke asked her.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” she mumbled as she looked back towards her plate. Rolling her eyes, she straightened her body. Reluctantly, she brought the piece of cantaloupe towards her mouth. Luke took a bite of his food as he fought off a soft laugh.

~six days later~

The group was all hanging out in Y/N’s room like usual, except Y/N was more quiet than normal. It was as if subconsciously they decided to pretend nothing happened and be as normal as possible.

But Luke’s head was rested on her thigh as he was sprailed out on her bed. A position the two have been in countless times before; nothing suspicious about it. Except the fact that her body felt like fire with him laying on her.

Dylan was watching them from afar, not noticing much of anything different between them. Except he could tell that they were doing everything in their power to ignore what happened. Especially after Luke refused to tell him anymore than it happened.

“Y/N, how long are you benched for?” Zoey announced towards the room, almost as a punishment for not going to the party on Friday.

Luke lifted his head, looking towards Y/N. All of them were staring at her, she hated being the center of attention. Zoey knew that and always pushed the button.

“Two weeks. Coach found out I was pushing through an injury,” she explained simply. Looking down, she met Luke’s gaze, her hearrt jumping into her throat.

“That’s probably smart,” Luke muttered. She nodded while looking back towards Zoey. Squinted her eyes slightly, taking in a deep breath.

“What about you Zoey? Benched for five games because–”

“Y/N!” she scolded while shaking her head.

“You brought attention to it, Zo. Why are you benched?” Y/N let out, clenching her jaw slightly. The closer she’s gotten with Luke over the last several months, the more she realized how much Zoey put Y/N down. She didn’t know why, but she was tired of it. Her heart was slamming against her chest as her eyes remained connected with Zoey.

“What are you doing Y/N?” Zoey asked, her lips quivering slightly.

“You brought it up. I’m benched because I have a pulled hamstring. You got benched because you smoked and Coach found out,” Y/N explained. Everyone around them began to subtly scold Zoey. “You wanted to make yourself feel better and our situations do not even compare,”

Zoey instantly stood up from the floor and she stormed out of the dorm room. Chloe and Miles bolted after her without hesitation. Ethan, Dylan, Mark, and Luke stayed behind awkwardly shifting their gaze towards one another.

Y/N scooted back away from Luke, pulling her knees towards her chest. “I gotta go apologize,” she muttered as she reluctantly began to climb out of the bed. Luke reached towards her, taking a hold of her forearm. She spun her head around, meeting his gaze.

“How many times has she said worse shit to you?” Luke offered as he delicately let go of her arm.

“Yeah, she’s kinda a–” Ethan started but Mark smacked his hand against Ethan’s back; stopping him. Ethan cleared his throat as his body straightened. “She just has to be the best all the time, it’s annoying,” Ethan recovered.

“She thought you were going to keep her shit secret, so that’s on her,” Dylan said as he stood up from the bed as he glanced towards Luke. He took a deep breath as he looked towards Mark and Ethan.

“Yeah,” Y/N let out quietly as she awkwardly sat back down beside Luke. Out of habit, she looked down at her watch to see it was close to three o’clock. “Don’t you boys have a pre-game nap to take?” she asked with a breathy awkward laugh leaving her lips.

Ethan dropped his gaze towards his watch, his eyes widening. “Shit, yeah–you going to the game?” he asked as jumped up to his feet. Mark and Dylan were quick to follow in pursuit.

“I’ll be there,” she offered as she met Luke’s gaze. She felt her heart jump into her throat as she took a shaky breath. He squinted his eyes slightly as he pressed his lips together.

“Alright, see you tonight,” Dylan said as he rested his hands against Ethan and Mark’s upperbacks. He began to push them out of the dorm room.

“What about Hu–” Ethan said before Dylan interrupted him.

“Just walk away,” Dylan whispered as he began to push them further out of the room.

The door swung open almost as quickly as it slammed shut. For the first time since it happened, they were alone. Alone in the exact same spot they were in almost a week ago.

Luke watched the three boys leave the dorm room before he leaned back on his hands. He shifted his gaze back towards her, taking note that she was already looking towards him. He watched as her eyes flickered upward towards his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be–”

“I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen anymore,” Luke said simply as he watched her lips part slightly. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she scooted closer to him. Their shoulders bumpinb together.

“I wasn’t pretending, I just thought it was a one time thing,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes. Luke felt his heart jump into his throat. He pursed his lips forward while tilting his head back.

Staring towards the ceiling he felt his body erupt in heat as the memory of the night flashed in his mind.

The way she looked down towards him, her hair cascading over her bare beautiful frame. His hands glided along her thighs, slowly before he tossed her down onto her back. The breathy, desperate moans falling from her lips. He loved the way she said his name, barely audible.

The way his body reacted to her, almost as if he craved her from the moment their lips connected. He needed her and nearly a week later, he hasn’t stopped needing her or craving her.

Luke lips were sloppy pressed wet kisses against her jawline as his grip on her thigh tightened. He began thrusting faster into her, hearing her short whimpers falling from her lips.

“Luke,” she muttered out, barely audible as she glided her hands along his upperback, leaving faint red scratches against his skin. He never thought he would hear her say his name like that. So desperate and so innocently against his ear.

A grunt fell from his lips as he felt her tighten around him. “That’s right, baby,” he mumbled against her jawline before he pressed his lips against hers, muffling her moans into his mouth.

She rested her hands against his cheeks as she fought off the moans starting to fall from her lips. “Oh god,” she mumbled as her entire body tensed as an overwhelming amount of pleasure began to course through her veins. Squinting her eyes shut as she continued to ride out her orgasm into Luke’s.

After another thrust into her, he felt himself reaching his own. A low moan fell from his lips and escaped into her mouth. A gasp fell from her lips as he continued to ride out his own orgasm; feeling his entire body begin to tense.

Her hands held his head in place, their eyes connected as he pulled his lips away from hers. A heavy breath leaving his lips as they continued to look deeply into one another’s eyes.

Slowly, he pulled out as he gently laid beside her, resting on his back. He stared towards the ceiling, breathing heavily. She did the same, slowly covering them both with the comforter.

Luke purposely left it hanging low on his body, his entire body was wet with sweat. “Oh my god,” she let out as she turned her head to the side. He followed in pursuit, meeting her gaze. A grin formed on his lips.

“I was gonna say that,” he let out teasingly.

“We were sober, Y/N,” Luke expressed as he shifted his gaze back towards her. Their eyes connected. She swallowed harshly as she scanned his features. “That has to mean something,” he said softly.

“Mean what, Luke?” she asked breathily.

“I don’t know,”

“Mean what, Luke?” she asked again as her gaze dipped towards his lips.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled as he took a hold of her neck, pulling her towards him. Desperately, he kissed her. Their tongues met instantly, swirling in perfect sync. Without hesitation, never parting their lips, she climbed onto his lap straddling his frame. He took an immediate hold of her waist as her hands rested on his cheeks.

“Luke,” she mumbled against his lips. He tilted his head back, meeting her eye. Slowly, she dragged her thumbs along his jawline. “What are we doing?” she asked as a breathy laugh fell from her lips.

“I’ve got no fucking clue,” he let out a small smile on his lips, “I just know I don’t want to go another week without kissing you,” he mumbled while dipping his hands beneath her shirt. Slowly, he rested his hands on her skin.

“Yeah?” she asked softly. He nodded instantly as his gaze dipped towards her lips. A soft giggle fell from her lips before he kissed her desperately. “You have a game later,” she mumbled against his lips. He hummed as he twisted the end of her t-shirt.

“That I do,” he muttered.

“Shouldn’t you go take your pre-game nap?” she offered while raising her eyebrows. He squinted his eyes as he looked over her features. He shook his head slowly, “You can’t blame me if you suck later,” she offered teasingly as she tried leaning towards him to kiss him.

He tilted his head back and barked out a laugh. “Okay well now you got me all nervous,” he said while giggling. She rolled her eyes playfully as she glided her hands across his jawline. “Do you wanna nap with me?” he asked softly as he scanned her features.

She nodded as he slowly fell onto his back, a giggle fell from her lips as she rolled away from his frame. Luke instantly looped his arms around her waist, pulling her towards him. He pressed his lips against her shoulder as she pulled up the comforter to cover both of their frames.

“Should we talk about it?” he questioned barely above a whisper into her ear.

“I think we know, Luke,” she mumbled. He smirked as he pressed his lips against her shoulder once more.

“We know, huh?” he asked teasingly. All she could muster up was a hum as he began to absentmindedly run his hand along her stomach. Slowly, shutting his eyes in the process.

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