#just keep telling it. keep telling it. keep yourself going in the hopes the end will make sense.

[daylighted]

─ SWALLOW THE SMOKE, dad's best friend ! jackles

your dad's best friend isn't the best influence, is he? if he goes down, you're going down with him.

warnings. ( 18+ ! ) pls for the love of god don't interact with this series if you're a minor. hefty age gap. weed mention / weed smoking. slight innocent!reader & corruption arc + slight hurt/comfort. inebriated making out HAHA. word count. 4.3k

sneak into his room here!

THE NEXT MORNING IS AS UNCOMFORTABLE as one can be. the dining table is laden with breakfast, the smell of buttery pancakes and crispy bacon. two plates sat in the center of the table piled high with both, a bowl of assorted chopped fruits in between them. there's a big glass bottle of orange juice lifted between the thick fingers of—

him.

jensen looks better this morning than he had by the end of your time together. his eyes no longer hooded and empty of anything, like he'd buried all of his feelings between your legs and left them there to dry, but rather revitalized. there's a shine in his eyes, now, when they drift up to the kitchen archway you stand in.

"morning, honey," your dad greets, a piece of bacon held between his two fingers. he crunches down on a bite before he offers you a toothy smile. "sleep okay?"

you’d slept like a rock, what with how you’d spent thirty minutes locked away in the bathroom with the man ogling you over the dinner table, and then a couple more hours trying to pretend that you weren’t limping. at least you had the throwaway excuse of jetlag to explain away most of it.

jensen’s head drops to stare at his plate, pushing around the scrambled eggs on it. still, you can see the dimples breaking into the crests of his cheeks. "i slept fine," you say on a breath, dropping into the seat closest to the doorway.

"how ‘bout you, jens?" your father’s attention shifts to the other side of the table, waving the bacon around in gesture. "guest bed treat you alright?"

jensen’s left hand wraps around the glass bottle of orange juice, lifting the rim of it to his mouth. his voice echoes and muffles in the half empty glass when he says, "like a baby."

you pretend to be disinterested. you stab a fork through a strawberry in the fruit bowl, popping it into your mouth, eyes specifically averted from the bob of jensen’s throat as he drinks.

your mother slips a pancake from the hot skillet onto your plate, ruffling your hair when she passes. "mornin’, sweet girl," she says with a hum, "you gonna be okay if dad and i head out for a few hours, or do you wanna come with us?"

you think you must have missed part of this conversation, specifically not watching jensen’s adam’s apple so much that you had shut out the entire else of the world. your face twists in confusion, turning half around in your chair to prop your elbow on its back. "go where?"

"oh, just a few little errands around town," your mother says, punctuated by the click of the stove turning off. "heading down to your dad's work, picking up a few things... a little grocery shopping to keep up stock for our two guests." she flashes you and jensen a smile, and there's something so innocent about it, isn't there? how she lumps you two both in the same equation, unaware of what'd went down under their roof just hours ago?

you swallow thickly, refusing to glance over in jensen's direction. his eyes were still on you. you know what they felt like, like warm honey, dripping down the length of your body as he eyed you up. it takes every ounce of your restraint to not shift under the scrutiny. "i'll be okay," you promise, telling yourself the lie that it was not because you hoped jensen was staying, too.

what was your plan here, anyways? surely nothing good, with the way that you had to ask yourself a question like that. something like this was doomed from the jump, and yet, you chase it anyways.

"keep an eye on her, yeah?" your dad is asking jensen, sighing through his nose as he rises from the kitchen table. he tugs open the stainless steel dishwasher's door and drops his dirty dishes in before he spares you any acknowledgement. "doubtful she'll get into trouble, but—"

"dad." your face is hot, the words stuttering out of your open mouth. "i don't need a babysitter, i'm in college—"

jensen clears his throat, the simple sound enough to stop you dead in the middle of your ramblings. "actually, i've gotta head out for an hour or so, too," he waves his fork around in gesture, a tuft of scrambled eggs impaled on the prongs, "so you're safe from gettin' stuck with a babysitter, pretty thing."

the disappointment is like a double edged blade. you were free from him for a little while, but that also meant that you were free from him. your father sounds just as surprised, though he masks it better than you do. you have to remind yourself to breathe again in your momentary shock. "everything all good?"

"just a few little errands around town," he echoes your mother's words with a charming smile in her direction. when jensen's eyes make their way back to you, the clarity in the depths of the green strikes you speechless all over again. "i'll be back in time to shut down whatever party she throws in my absence."

how boring did it make you that the thought of a party didn't even cross your mind? all of the warning stories you'd heard about jensen's party animal days really had done their number on you. but on the same hand, how much trouble did it make you that you only wanted to stay home to be around him?

"i'm not going to throw a party," you scoff, and it really is that ridiculous to you, because why are they worried that their only child, the one they raised to be good, would do something like that? really, the thing they should have been worrying over was if you would fuck the forty-something guy sitting at your kitchen table. again.

maybe they were valid to worry.

you tune back in to the conversation to your parents up on their feet, clearing up the empty dishes left. you spear another strawberry, much more aggressively this time. as they tend to do, your eyes drift to the left, expectedly finding him watching you still. his hand is around the mostly empty bottle of orange juice, the neck of it in his gripping fingers, his lips to the mouth of it. 

pushing out of the seat you were in, you sidestep around your parents to get to him, shoving the bottle down from his mouth with a finger on the rim. "you shouldn’t drink straight from the bottle."

"my bad, sweetheart," jensen drawls, free hand raising in his surrender, "didn’t know what i did was so heavy on your mind."

"other people could want some of it, you know," arguing just because you could; anything to make it look like you weren’t blatantly ignoring the guest in your house, "and it’s not even your house, you can’t just—"

jensen nods along as you speak, his eyebrows raising as his lips purse in mock understanding. "i get it, sweet girl," he echoes your mother’s pet name back to you, somehow making your face hotter than it already felt, "i’ll be better next time, yeah?"

it was not fair for him to get to tease you like this when he’d been the one who got weird the night prior over his own decisions. it wasn’t fair that he could smirk at you and the memory threatens to erase itself. you feel it twisting in your chest — the irritation and the strange wisps of hurt that you can’t even explain curl around your heart in a vice grip. you lift the bottle to your own mouth, thinking that it’s a power move. dominance asserted in your own house, right?

jensen only smirks, now both of his hands raised in surrender. "if you wanted something from me, you could have just asked."

you barely manage to not choke. again, he’s so shameless in front of your parents, as if the fact that you’d even given into him in the first place wasn’t something detrimental to you. he rises from his feet before you can find a response, his emptied plate in hand, pressing a polite chaste kiss to your mother’s cheek as he slips it into the open dishwasher. "thanks for breakfast, laur."

he’s gone before you can blink, the sound of the front door opening and closing behind him like its own punctuation mark. you don’t even want orange juice. jensen had won whatever game this was, anyways. 

you help with cleaning the rest of the remnants of breakfast back up, getting yourself a proper plate in the process, since you’d been a little too focused on keeping up a stone-faced facade to actually eat. 

"he’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?" your dad draws you from the stupor you’d fallen into, stabbing at the fruit atop your pancakes.

you blink in momentary surprise before you shake your head. "no, why?" 

he hesitates, setting the dry towel back on the counter next to the kitchen sink. his arms cross over his chest, one of those half-baked smiles on his lips. "he’s a good guy, jensen, but he makes a lot of shitty decisions."

"what’s that have to do with me?" you ask, a little unsettled by whatever warning this was playing out to be. it wasn’t you who needed this talking to, you didn’t think; he was supposed to be the responsible one, wasn’t he? 

your father lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "just… don’t take anything to heart that he says. he’s only here for a couple more days, which is more than enough for him to fuck something up." it wasn’t necessarily news to you, considering everything you’d learned growing up about him and his antics, but this seemed like more than just stupid drunken mistakes at frat parties. "tell me if he starts to pester you too much and i’ll handle it."

"dad, i can handle myself." you weren’t a little kid anymore. you may have been their only child, but you were grown up, now.

still, your dad waves his hand dismissively. "i know you can, but i’ve dealt with him longer. i know how to hit him where it hurts." he pats your shoulder on his way out of the kitchen.

you’re not sure how to exactly respond or think of any of that. sure, jensen was a little bit insane for pursuing you at all, but he seemed relatively fine beyond that? of course, you’d only known him properly for twenty four hours, now. the truth was its own sort of blade, held between his fingers, daring you to question its sharpness before it dug into your skin. 

great. just what you needed: more alone time with the stranger in your house that you'd, somehow, let in your pants. at least there were plenty of leftovers from the party last night so you didn't have to try and swindle something to cook out of your parents' notoriously ingredient only household.

jensen hadn't returned yet. the sun was past the crest of setting, the sky deep violet and winking with stars. at least you had that, for now, but it wasn't going to last. eventually, he'd come back from whatever errands took half the day. maybe you'd get lucky and he somehow found out that your parents were at a steakhouse and dropped in.

you sat at the kitchen table again, your phone propped up on the wooden surface, doom scrolling through every social media you had until it bored you and you switched. idly, you pick at the food on your plate, knowing that you were waiting for the front door to open but refusing to acknowledge that fact to yourself.

the second the door does open, though, you drop the fork in your hand in surprise. it had to happen eventually, but it still managed to catch you off guard.

jensen had said he was running errands, and yet the only thing he returns with is a brown paper bag in his one fist.

"your errands was just getting alcohol?" you ask, leaned back in your seat to see him gliding through the entrance room of your house.

his head tilts up as he kicks off his boots, a little smirk on his mouth. "i don't think that's any of your business, little lady." little lady. you visibly bristle at that, and that only makes his dimples deepen in his cheeks. "gotta have somethin' to put up with you, don't i?"

"you weren't saying that last night." the words just slip out, your expression falling the second they are. that was stupid. you were lucky your parents were out of the house.

his face seems to reflect that, too, eyes darting into the kitchen archway as he steps through it, like he was looking for them. "last night was rough." it was, but it was doubtful that you and him were on the same page about what he meant by that. you open your mouth to attest to that, but he cuts you off. "parents not home?"

your mouth zips shut again. then, "obviously not."

"i'd watch that pretty mouth, sweetheart," jensen hums, dropping the brown bag on the kitchen countertop behind him. he rifles through it, the clink of his fingertips on the beer cans inside just proof to what you'd asked initially. "or i'm not gonna share."

your face scrunches up. "i don't want to drink tonight. they're not going to be gone for long, they're just on a—"

"i'm not talkin' about drinkin', babygirl," he says with a scoff, tugging a little ziploc from the depths of the brown bag. if you didn't already know what the rolled up joints inside were, the smell that permeates the small room gives it away. you stare at him, unimpressed. "someone was real pissy this morning when i didn't share, so i decided to try n' make it up to her."

you cross your arms. jensen mimics your stance right back.

so this was the game you were playing.

"i don't smoke." it wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the full truth. you did it once back in exam week, and the guilt of that impulsive decision had made your high one of torturous anxiety instead of something peaceful to take the edge off.

jensen fishes a lighter from his pocket, rolling the ziploc closed again, waving the both of them in your direction between his two fingers. "i'll be on the back porch if you change your mind," he hums, and the smile on his mouth is infuriatingly gentle. disappointed, even.

there was no possible way that this was the same man who'd fucked you and then didn't look in your direction for the entire rest of the night prior. you'd just assumed that you were one of his aforementioned bad decisions, something that he'd move past.

this was not part of whatever plan you had in your head to get through the rest of this weekend. him actually seeming to at least acknowledge your feelings or how he effected them was not what you prepared for.

the glass screen door to the back patio slides open and then shuts with a light thud. for a few seconds, you sit in silence at the table, gnawing on your bottom lip as the road splits in front of you. go outside, or stay in.

the smell drifts in through the open window above the sink, and your decision is made for you. you jump up to shove it closed, and isn't that just the perfect excuse to step outside and pick an argument? the story continues to write itself.

you push open the glass door, one foot inside, one foot on the golden lit back porch. jensen's sitting in your dad's favorite patio chair, the one closest to the deep blue porch swing that your mom loved.

"you should close the windows before you start doing things you're not supposed to."

jensen doesn't glance in your direction, the joint hung between his two lips as he sucks in a deep breath, the cherry of it glowing red. "didn't know i was on the same tight leash they've got 'round you," his voice is muffled, speaking from the corner of his mouth.

you falter for a second. "i'm not on a leash."

"aren't you?" then, he glances over, eyebrows raised on his forehead. his fingers pluck the joint from between his lips, smoke curling around his words. "what exactly did you learn about me, pretty girl?"

you didn't understand this shift in the conversation. you step fully out onto the back porch, leaning back against the glass when you shut it behind you. "you went to the hospital with alcohol poisoning once? you ate a worm for a couple of bucks?" his lips twitch at that one, which feels like invitation enough to keep going. "that you went to class high as a kite, once, and—"

"publicly humiliated myself, yeah." jensen's hands spread open in an invisible reveal. "what else?"

again, you don't know what he's getting at out of all of this. "um, i know about that time you dated my aunt and—"

"something that doesn't stem from one of my low points," he interjects, cocking his head to the side. "don't got any of those types of stories locked n' loaded, do you?"

you stare at him for a long while, wracking your brain for anything at all. it clicks in your mind, then, that you really don't. you'd thought that jensen ackles was a figment of your dad's imagination, a character created just to warn you off of doing certain things, for a reason: because those were the only things you'd ever been told.

"and did you ever go to a frat party?" the joint is between his lips again, bouncing with each time his lips moved.

you square your jaw, straighten your shoulders. "yes, actually."

"do any keg stands?"

"no, but—"

"probably didn't eat a worm, did you?" again, this one makes him smile, even if it feels a little disjointed.

your face twists up. "absolutely not."

"and i guarantee you've either not smoked before, or you did it and hated it, swore it off, let your parents' little warnings echo in your head in approval at it. definitely didn't date someone just to make your dad happy, considering i bet you've never dated at all."

this wasn't supposed to be how this went. you were supposed to piss him off, pick at him enough to either make him drag you back inside and up to one of your rooms, or pester him enough to get him to spill whatever secrets your dad was talking about. jensen was not supposed to look you in the eyes and tell you all of the experiences you'd, so far, kept away from.

it stung. salt in wounds you didn't know you'd even had until he took the bruises beneath his fingers and jabbed. it must show on your face that he was spot on, even if you'd never admit it out loud, because his expression shifts too.

"so sit the hell down and let loose a little, sweetheart," his voice is softer now, like he recognized that he'd pushed a little too hard and was trying to make up for it, "i'm not gonna bite."

your hesitation is less forced this time. you drop down onto the porch swing, folding one of your legs up beneath you in the process. next to you, jensen plucks the half-smoked joint from his fingers and passes it over to you.

holding it between your fingers, you suck in a slow inhale, the smoke filling up your mouth and seeping down into your lungs. jensen's eyes are on you, they're always on you, watching you with a gaze you wouldn't dare call awe, but something akin to it.

"i mean," he adds as an afterthought, waving his one hand around aimlessly, "i could bite. if y'wanted me to."

right as you make to exhale, you're choking and spluttering on a laugh. he laughs right along with you, keeling half over himself in the process. "seriously?" you ask him, exasperatedly, and all he can give is an answering wheeze.

he coughs a couple of times, shaking his head as the sound of his laughter dies in the growing darkness. "you make it so damn easy."

like you have something to prove, and maybe you do, you give him a look around the dissipating smoke you'd choked out before you take another longer hit from the joint in your mouth. your lungs ache from choking on the last one, so you can't hold it in your chest as much as you wanted to to show off, but you still manage.

"you’re so pretty, baby," jensen drawls, and this time, the awe in his eyes is evident. they’re glittery green, his lips in a lazy smile.

you hate to admit that you like him best like this. all soft smiles and warm laughs and rasping voice. he’s as pretty as pretty can be, even if you don’t fully understand where you fit in his life, or where you’re supposed to fit him.

you give him a look from beneath the dark curls of your eyelashes, unable to resist the eye roll to follow. "shut up." he laughs again in response, but you aren’t done. the high hasn’t hit you, yet, but the placebo that comes from it has you relaxing back into your seat. "you know, i don’t understand you."

jensen folds his hands behind his head. "never asked for you to understand me."

"no, you just kissed me," you argue back, and the laughter bubbles out of you all on its own. "and—"

"i could kiss you again."

you cock an eyebrow at him. he cocks one right back. again, you grin despite yourself, dropping your gaze. "you won’t."

the patio chair creaks beneath him when he leans forward. his index finger tips your chin up, his face close enough that you can see the red outlining his eyes. "is that a challenge, or a lie?"

"i think that’s for you to figure out."

you almost look away, then, not able to withstand the eye contact he’d adamant on holding, but his grin softens, only making it harder to look away. "you’re so pretty, baby," he echoes it with a reverence that can’t he faked, not easily, at least.

"you’re a terrible influence," you manage to whisper, and that’s all that you can say, your voice trailing off before you can say anything else.

jensen shakes his head though, his hand coming up to cup your cheek beneath his palm. his thumb dances across your cheekbone. "i never claimed to be good."

and when jensen closes the distance between the both of you, you don’t move away. it's different than your first kiss, much more tender and slow, too much like he might mean it when you know he doesn't.

still, your hands raise to hold his face between them, the stubble of his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your palms. you raise up from your spot on the porch swing and he curls his fingers around your waist, guiding you into the expanse of his lap. his skin is so hot beneath his clothes as you drag your hands down his chest.

jensen parts your lips with his tongue, meeting yours with the same slow-paced laziness he'd grinned at you with. like he's savoring it, every inch, of the tongue that meets his each time. you try, you really do, to not make any sort of indication that you like this as much as you do, but the little whimper in your throat slips free anyways.

he laughs, and laughs again when his teeth scrape across the inside of your bottom lip, dragging it back with him before he swoops back in to properly kiss you again.

it's just kissing, but something about the drug coursing your system has heat pooling between your legs. it's just kissing, but he's worshiping your mouth, laying down prayers with each sweep of his tongue.

you don't know how long you're like that, sitting in his lap while he laps at your tongue with deliberate slowness, getting to know every inch of what you offer to him with intimacy that can't possibly only exist for these last couple of days.

the headlights from the driveway cast two bright gold beams across the backyard, only a couple feet away from the porch you and jensen are lounging on, one slight angle shift away from exposing what the both of you were getting up to in your parents' absence.

he's the one to pull away, pressing his lips together as if he could preserve the taste of the earth on your breath and staining your lips between his. when his eyes open, there's no mistaking it: a longing that won't be there in the morning, but at least it exists, then.

you're the one to move first, even if he was the one to break it. you smooth out your clothes with hands that you pretend aren't shaking, and now, you don't look back over your shoulder when you pry the sliding glass doors open and step inside.

you make it up to your room before your parents make it inside, the door shutting behind you like a permanent seal, closing you off from them and jensen.

through your open window, you can smell the smoke from his joint, as prominent as it was outside, the only indication that he didn't move.

notes | this was going to be SO much longer and take place over the span of 3 days but i decided ... what's the rush in speedrunning all three days of his stay ! PLUS I HAVE TO BUILD CHEMISTRY OK !!! dont mind me ik what i'm doing </3

become a notch on jensen's bedpost by commenting ☠ !! @soldiersgirl @seven7lee @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @winchestersbgirl @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @lonelylonelybaby @mourningthewicked @ultravi0lence14 @1-imbroglio @hughesinthebox @angels-silhouette @blossomingorchids @chris444evr @cassiecourtemanche @writtenbyhollywood @adrienneleclerc @losers-clvb @bluemerakis @fuckedupfate @legalmente-loca @k-slla @fxckingjo @blueschevy @fitxgrld @viluren @youdontknowe @sizzlingcheesecakepanda @cupidluvzz

[4nicolas]

satoru thinks he likes the moments after sex with you more than the actual sex itself.

I mean, don’t get him wrong he absolutely loved when the two of you fucked but there just something about the intimacy of the afterglow.

whether satoru was collapsed on top of you or you were collapsed on top of him it felt great. the warmth of your bodies combined made you feel even better.

the two of you coming down from your highs and simply enjoying one another’s presence was another kind of bliss.

he couldn’t get enough of you, he wanted nothing more than to keep you in bed all day; cuddling or being intimate he didn’t care. as long as it contained both your bodies pressed together.

although you were both sticky and sweaty you still felt incredibly comfortable. laying in your own fluids is gross, yeah, but with satoru none of that mattered.

even when the two of you were intertwined satoru still needed more, he needed his arms around you and his legs tangled with yours. he just needed you as close as possible.

your presence alone made him tremendously happy, having your physical touch was just an added bonus, he feels like the happiest man alive when you give him something as simple as a hug. so obviously cuddling was his favorite pastime.

the two of you breathing heavily, not speaking but all the words you wanted to get out being said. your love and adoration was already communicated through the past moments and laying in a comfortable silence was just the cherry on top.

satoru liked to trace little shapes on your skin, his fingers lulling you into a trance, he tried not to let you fall asleep though, he needed his precious lover to keep him company.

if you did find yourself falling asleep satoru would mumble your name or gently scratch your scalp, though if you were genuinely exhausted he would let you sleep.

when you did end up falling asleep he would try and maneuver the both of you under the covers, the added layer keeping you cozy, and being in satorus arms even more so.

other times satoru would try and coax you into taking a quick shower or bath, especially if you both went a bit rougher. all he wanted was the make you feel safe and comfortable and he would always try his hardest to do so.

sometimes the showers consist of satoru lazily holding you against his or vice versa, simply basking in the warm water and each others bodies. did satoru ever mention he loved being close to you?

he does tell you that, a lot actually. but if he didn’t he most definitely would make up by showing it. sometimes when you two take a bath together he’ll let you lay against him, gently massing your shoulders or arms after a long day.

he’ll give you space treatment if you really wanted, anything for you, just say it and he’ll get it.

one part he didn’t like was having to bother or move you so he could wash the sheets, which leads to him not cleaning them just to keep you comfy.

sometimes he would have you sit in the warm tub while he washed the blankets and took care of everything. he wanted to make sure you came back to a clean and fresh pair of covers.

he gave you royal treatment and he knows what that means because he was treated like a king his whole life. though he definitely did much better than that, he gave you all the love and attention you could need tenfold.

when all was said and done the two of you normally got cuddled up under the freshly washed blankets of your shared (king sized) bed, after having taken a nice hot shower or bath of course.

the two of you would hold each other close the entirety of the night, not letting go for a second, and you better hope you don’t have to pee in the middle of the night because you’re not getting out his grasp.

all in all during intimacy and the aftermath and he would take care of you the best he could. after all your the only person whose ever made him feel this way before. it was weird to care so much about one person, he didn’t know how to feel.

he tries his best and will continue to for as long as you two live (yes live, because you’re not breaking up ever.) satoru will do anything and everything for you because he loves you.

he loves you more than anything in the world and couldn’t imagine life without you, so for the rest of his life he will do everything in his power to appeal to you.

of course you tell him he doesn’t need to do all of that but he insists and who are you to say to the satoru gojo?

—

not proof read, im tired and it’s 3am! :P

[seospicybin]

COCKY.

FINAL CHAPTER

Bangchan x reader. (s,f)

Chapters: Chapter I / Chapter II / Chapter III

Synopsis: As a researcher developing a specialized condom in extra large sizes, you never expected the company’s product manager, Chris, to volunteer as a test subject—let alone for things to get this complicated. Balancing professionalism with undeniable chemistry, you must navigate a partnership that’s strictly business… or so you keep telling yourself. (16,4k words)

Author's note: Thank you for patiently waiting and for following Cocky series. Hope you enjoy this one too and don't forget to share your thoughts on it ♡

As the morning sun kisses your bare skin, you slowly stir awake, feeling oddly disoriented. Your body feels heavy, sore in places that make last night come rushing back in vivid detail.

Blinking, you turn your head to the side—and there he is. Chris, lying beside you, his bare chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. His face is relaxed in sleep, hair slightly tousled, lips parted just slightly.

Your eyes drift to the bedside table, where the evidence of the night lingers—torn condom wrappers scattered messily across the surface. Heat creeps up your neck as memories flood in. How Jane had slipped Chris that damn pill. How you got him home. And how you… passed out. During sex.

You groan internally, mortified. Of all the things that could’ve happened, that had to be the way the night ended? You can’t even begin to imagine what Chris must have thought.

Heart hammering, you slowly shift in bed, careful not to disturb him. The last thing you want is to wake up to his teasing or—worse—his concern. You can’t face that right now.

Holding your breath, you slip the covers off and carefully climb out of bed, moving as silently as possible. Your clothes are scattered around the room, but you grab the nearest things, pulling them on hastily. You just need to get out before he wakes up. You take one last glance at him—still fast asleep—and then, as quietly as possible, you head for the door.

-

Despite the late start to your morning, you make it to the office just in time. Your heart is pounding, anxiety creeping up your spine. After sneaking out of Chris’s apartment that morning, all you could think about was avoiding Jane. There’s no way she wouldn’t interrogate you about last night, and you are not ready for that conversation.

However, the moment you step into the lab, Jane comes rushing toward you. You brace yourself, expecting the worst.

“You’re finally here!” she exclaims, gripping your arm.

“I—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Check your email. Now.”

She’s not asking about last night? You blink at her, confused. “Wait, what?”

Jane huffs impatiently and practically drags you to your desk. “The company sent out an announcement this morning. Your product? It’s officially launching.”

Your breath catches. Already?

“Go on,” she urges, gesturing at your laptop.

Hands slightly trembling, you open your inbox. Sure enough, the company-wide email is sitting at the top, bold and unread. When you click on it, the subject line says it all:

Official Product Launch Announcement – New Innovations in Health & Wellness

And there, among the listed products, is yours.

Jane claps her hands together, grinning. “This is huge! Congratulations, genius!” She doesn't shy away from placing a kiss on your cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark on it.

You force a smile, but your stomach churns. The launch means more than just success—it means presenting your product to a lot of people at the expo. Investors, media, potential buyers… all eyes on you.

Jane notices your expression and narrows her eyes. “Wait. Why do you look like someone just told you your dog ran away?”

You sigh, slumping in your chair. “Because this means I have to present at the expo.”

“So?” Jane tilts her head. “You’re brilliant. You worked so hard on this. You’re the best person to introduce it.”

You groan. “But I hate public speaking.”

Jane scoffs. “Oh, please. You literally had to interview men about their dick sizes for this research. If you survived that, you can survive anything.”

You open your mouth to argue but—okay, fair point.

Jane smirks in triumph and pats your shoulder. “You got this. Just picture everyone in their underwear or something.” Then, she glances at her watch. “Alright, gotta go back to my lab before someone notices I ditched work.”

She turns to leave but pauses. Her eyes zero in on your neck, and her smirk deepens. “By the way,” she says sweetly, “nice hickey.”

Your blood runs cold. “What?”

Jane bursts out laughing when she sees how horrified you look. “Oh my god! You didn’t even notice?!”

You slap a hand over your neck, face burning. “JANE!”

She cackles as she heads for the door. “Good luck explaining that on your presentation.” Then, with one last wicked grin, she disappears, leaving you in utter mortification.

-

You gather in the meeting room with your team, everyone chatting excitedly about the upcoming expo. The atmosphere is buzzing with energy, but you sit stiffly in your chair, gripping your pen like it’s a lifeline.

“Alright,” you start, clearing your throat. “Let’s go over our presentation plan for the expo.”

Your lead assistant, Mark, grins. “We’re finally getting the recognition we deserve. This is huge.”

“It is,” you agree, forcing a smile. “Which is why we need to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

You run through the details—booth setup, product demonstrations, key talking points—but the whole time, one thought lingers in the back of your mind: Chris will be there. He has to be. As the product manager, he’ll be involved in the official launch. And after what happened last night… well, you’re not sure how to face him yet.

“Will you be handling the main presentation yourself?” another team member asks.

You hesitate. “I’ll be leading it, yes. But I’ll need all of you to help with different parts of the demonstration.”

Mark nods and gives you a reassuring smile. “You’ll do fine. Just be confident.”

“Right,” you mutter. Easier said than done.

The meeting continues, and you do your best to focus. But no matter how much you plan, one thing is clear—there’s no avoiding Chris at the expo.

And there's no way of avoiding him in the office no matter how big this building is. As you head back to your lab, still lost in thought from the meeting, you turn a corner and collide with someone. Strong hands catch your arms before you can stumble, and when you look up, air caught in your throat.

Chris. He smiles down at you, his expression easy, like nothing is out of the ordinary. “Hey.”

You force an awkward smile back, hyper-aware of the people moving past you in the hallway. Good. An open space. He can’t bring it up here.

“Congrats on the launch,” he says, his voice warm. “You really did it.”

“Thank you,” you reply, gripping the tablet in your hands a little tighter.

Chris nods, but then, to your surprise, he takes a step closer. The shift is subtle, but the space between you suddenly feels smaller. Your breath catches, nerves prickling as you stare up at him.

He opens his mouth, and for a second, you’re sure he’s about to mention last night. But instead, he says, “Good luck with everything.”

You get taken aback. But the way he looks at you—like he wants to say something else entirely—keeps you frozen in place. Your heart pounds. You don’t trust yourself to respond properly, so you quickly mumble, “Thanks,” before stepping back. “I should, um—get back to work.”

Chris watches you for a beat, unreadable, but he doesn’t stop you. As you walk away, you exhale slowly, feeling like you just dodged a bullet. For now.

-

The expo is in full swing, the grand hall filled with a hum of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, and the constant shuffle of people moving between booths. Bright banners and LED screens flash promotional videos, showcasing the latest products and innovations. The air carries a mix of fresh coffee from a nearby vendor and the faint scent of brand-new packaging materials.

Despite the excitement buzzing around you, a tight knot of nerves sits heavy in your stomach. Today is a big day—your product is being introduced to the public, and soon, you’ll have to engage with potential clients, answer questions, and confidently present everything you’ve worked so hard for. You exhale, trying to push aside the anxiety.

Jane, walking beside you, nudges your arm playfully. “Relax, you’re going to do great.”

You give her a small, unsure smile, but before you can say anything, she suddenly stops in her tracks and tugs at your sleeve. “Oh, look who’s here,” she sing-songs, pointing toward a booth a few meters away.

Your eyes follow her gesture, and sure enough, there’s Chris. He’s casually checking out a product display, dressed sharp as ever, dark navy with suit with silk tie, exuding that effortless confidence that always makes him stand out.

Jane smirks. “So... about that night. You took him home, right?” She gives you a knowing look. “Did anything happen?”

You quickly shake your head, keeping your tone light. “Nothing happened.”

Jane raises a brow. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” you insist, glancing away.

You sigh, but before you can say anything else, Jane shifts gears. “Well, whatever. I just hope you’re not looking for a thing with him.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, hands in her pockets. “I mean, Chris would be a lot to handle. He’s not just—” she gestures vaguely, “—big in that way, but he’s also charming, super friendly, and he just knows his way around girls.” She gives you a look. “And you know what they say with guys with big dicks, they're fucking insatiable and I'm talking about him not getting it enough with just one girl.”

You don’t respond right away, but your gaze flickers toward Chris again. There are a few girls gathered around him, clearly drawn in by whatever he’s saying. He’s smiling, laughing at something, effortlessly charismatic. You watch as one of them leans in a little closer, her eyes bright with interest.

Jane turns back to you, tilting her head with a knowing smile. “Do you like him?”

You immediately shake your head. “No.”

Her smirk deepens. “You sure?”

You exhale, rolling your shoulders back. “Chris is just the product manager. That’s all he is to me.”

Jane gives you a long, doubtful look, as if waiting for you to crack under pressure. But you meet her gaze with firm resolve. “What happened between us was strictly professional,” you say, keeping your voice steady. “And even that has ended.”

For a moment, she studies you, as if weighing your words. Then, to your relief, she shrugs. “If you say so.”

Before she can push the conversation any further, her eyes catch on something across the expo hall. “Oh! That looks interesting—come on.” She grabs your wrist, tugging you toward a display booth showcasing the latest advancements in health supplements.

You let her pull you along, glad for the distraction. But even as Jane chatters away about the product, your mind drifts back to Chris. The way he smiled at those girls. The way Jane’s words linger in your head.

He would be a lot to handle. You shake the thought away, forcing yourself to focus. This expo is about your work, not him.

-

You step off the stage, your heart still pounding from the adrenaline rush of your presentation. The applause is still ringing in your ears, and you let out a breath, feeling a mix of excitement and relief. Months of work, endless testing, late nights—it all led to this moment, and seeing the positive reception fills you with a deep sense of accomplishment.

As you make your way backstage, a familiar voice calls out, “Hey, great job up there.”

You turn to see Chris walking toward you, his expression warm with approval.

“You really killed it,” he praises, his eyes shining with genuine admiration. “I knew you’d do great, but you exceeded expectations.”

You offer him a small smile, still catching your breath. “Thanks… I appreciate that. And, well, thanks for everything. I wouldn’t have gotten here without your help.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t sell yourself short. This was all you.”

Before you can respond, a voice calls out from behind him. “Chris!”

You glance past him to see a woman waving him over, her expression expectant. Chris turns his head, then looks back at you with an apologetic smile. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later at the party, yeah?”

You nod, keeping your expression neutral. “Yeah. See you.”

He gives you one last smile before heading off, leaving you standing there, still buzzing with adrenaline—but now with something else stirring inside you.

Just as you’re collecting yourself, Jane comes barging in, her energy overwhelming as she practically throws herself at you in a hug. “You did it!” she exclaims, squeezing you tight. “That was amazing! You looked so confident up there, and the way you handled the Q&A—ugh, I’m so proud of you!”

You laugh, hugging her back. “Thanks, Jane. Seriously.”

She pulls away, grinning. “So, are you ready for the party?”

You hesitate, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know… I’m exhausted. I kinda just want to go home and sleep.”

Jane gasps dramatically, grabbing your shoulders. “Absolutely not. You worked your ass off for this, and now it’s time to celebrate!”

You sigh, knowing there’s no way she’s letting you out of this. “You’re really not giving me a choice, are you?”

“Not at all,” she says smugly. “Now, come on! We’re getting you a drink, and you’re going to have fun whether you like it or not.”

In the restroom, you step out of the stall wearing the dress Jane brought for you, adjusting the hem as you take in your reflection. The fabric hugs you in all the right places with a plunging neckline, a little more daring than what you’d usually pick, but Jane insisted on something fun.

Jane grins when she sees you. “Damn, you clean up nice,” she teases. “Now, stand still.”

She spins you toward the mirror, pulling out her makeup bag. You sigh but let her get to work, tilting your chin up as she starts applying foundation.

“So,” she says casually, dabbing at your face, “did you invite Han to the party?”

You blink. “No. Why would I?”

Jane scoffs. “Because he’s totally into you.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t want to lead him on.”

“That’s exactly why you should be dating him,” she argues, moving on to your eyeliner. “Han is fun, he’s hot, and he likes you. If you’re looking for someone, it should be him.”

You chuckle. “I think you just want to live vicariously through me.”

“I know I’m right,” Jane insists, finishing up and stepping back to admire her work. “Now, let’s check ourselves out.”

The two of you stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your hair and outfits. Jane rummages through her bag, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Oh, I picked up some fun things from the expo,” she says, pulling out a small bottle and casually dropping it into your purse.

You frown, reaching in to inspect it. “Jane—”

She smirks. “It's edible lube. Watermelon flavor. You’re very welcome.”

-

The company truly knows how to throw a party and it's im full swing by the time you arrive, the venue buzzing with chatter, laughter, and music. Your team is already a few drinks in, celebrating the success of the launch, and Jane wastes no time in dragging you to the bar for a drink.

“To your big night!” she toasts, clinking her glass against yours. You take a sip, letting the burn of the alcohol settle some of your lingering nerves from the day.

As the night progresses, you weave through conversations, occasionally laughing at Jane’s antics as she flirts with someone from another department. The atmosphere is lively, but you can’t shake the slight unease bubbling in your chest.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a familiar figure—Chris. He’s standing across the room, engaged in conversation with a group of people. He’s relaxed, holding a drink in one hand, his smile easy and charming. There’s a girl next to him, leaning in a little too closely, whispering something in his ear. He chuckles at whatever she says, tilting his head toward her.

Despite your efforts to steer clear of him, you feel his gaze on you from across the room. When you glance up, just for a second, you catch him watching you—his eyes dark and unreadable. The moment your gazes meet, your breath catches, and you quickly look away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever Jane is saying.

You turn toward the bar, ordering another drink just to keep yourself occupied. When you risk another glance, Chris is still there, but this time, he takes a step forward, as if he’s about to come over.

Panic flutters in your chest, and before he can get any closer, you spin around and slip into the crowd, weaving between groups of people, keeping yourself moving.

For the rest of the night, you make a conscious effort to avoid him. Every time you sense him nearby, you casually shift in the opposite direction, always staying just out of reach. You laugh a little too loudly at Jane’s jokes, engage in meaningless conversations with your coworkers, and keep your attention anywhere but on him. But even as you try to act normal, you can’t shake the feeling that Chris notices exactly what you’re doing.

-

The noise of the party fades behind you as you slip out of the building, the cool night air washing over your skin. You let out a slow breath, relieved to finally be away from the crowd—and more importantly, away from Chris.

Pulling out your phone, you open the ride-hailing app and quickly request a taxi. As you wait, you cross your arms, tapping your fingers against your sleeve, your mind still racing from the night's events.

Just as you exhale and glance down at your phone, you feel a firm hand on your shoulder. Your breath catches, and you spin around, startled.

Chris stands there, his eyes immediately locked onto yours. The streetlights cast a soft glow over his face, highlighting the slight furrow in his brows. "I'm assuming you were avoiding me all night," he says, his tone light but eyes sharp.

You shake your head a little too quickly. "No, I wasn’t."

He chuckles at your poor attempt at denial, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Right. So it’s just a coincidence that every time I looked your way, you turned and disappeared?"

You press your lips together, feeling caught but unwilling to admit it. Instead, you sigh and change the subject. "Why are you out here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be inside celebrating?"

Chris tilts his head slightly. "I could ask you the same thing. The product launch was a huge success for you—you should be celebrating, not sneaking off like this."

You shrug, keeping your tone casual. "I'm just exhausted."

His smirk softens into something more thoughtful. "Then let me give you a ride home."

You open your mouth to refuse, grasping for an excuse. "You’ve probably had a few drinks. You should stay and enjoy the party."

Chris shakes his head. "I only had one drink." Then, with a small smile, he adds, "I was too busy looking for you all night."

Getting no answer from you, he tries again, his smile never faltering. “Come on, just let me drive you home.”

You hesitate, shifting on your feet. “Chris, it’s fine. I can just take a taxi.”

He exhales, tilting his head. “You’re really gonna make me go back to the party alone after I spent all night looking for you?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying sincerity in his voice.

You cross your arms. “You don’t have to leave just because I am.”

“But I want to.” He takes a step closer, his voice softer now. “Let me take you home.”

You sigh, knowing he won’t drop it. And truthfully, you’re too tired to argue. “Fine,” you mumble.

The car ride is quiet, the city lights flashing by as Chris drives steadily through the streets. You’re still processing everything—the party, the launch, the exhaustion weighing down on you—when Chris suddenly speaks.

"Are you free next weekend?"

You blink, caught off guard. "Huh?" You turn to look at him, your voice coming out in a stammer. "Why?"

Chris keeps his eyes on the road, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. "You’ve been exhausted and stressed these past few weeks. I figured you could use a break, so I want to take you somewhere to relax."

Your brows knit together. "You don’t have to do that."

"But I want to," he says simply, glancing at you with a small smile. "Besides, as a product manager, I have to take care of my hardworking employee."

You narrow your eyes at him. "That’s a lame excuse."

Chris chuckles. "Maybe. But it’s still valid." Then, as if sensing your hesitation, he quickly adds, "And don’t worry—there’ll be no more tests." His voice dips into something teasing, but the reassurance is clear.

When he finally pulls the car to a stop in front of your apartment building, you reach for the door handle, pausing only to turn to him. “Thanks for the ride home,” you say softly.

Chris doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes find yours in the dim light of the dashboard, holding your gaze with an intensity that makes you hold your breath. There’s something in his expression, something that makes your stomach twist in a way you’re not sure how to interpret.

"Goodnight," he finally says, his voice quieter, deeper.

You inhale sharply, steadying yourself before replying, “Goodnight.” Then, without another word, you step out of the car, shutting the door behind you.

As you stand there, you watch as Chris’s car pulls away, the red taillights glowing in the darkness before disappearing around the corner. Only then do you let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, turning to head inside, your thoughts a tangled mess.

-

The idea of expanding the line has been on your mind ever since the expo, and now that the product is officially launching, it's the perfect time to start thinking ahead. You're deep in your work, staring intently at your computer screen as you run through potential formulas for new product variants.

Just as you’re making notes on potential ingredients, Jane suddenly appears beside you, leaning over your shoulder. “What are you working on now?” she asks, her voice laced with curiosity.

Before you can answer, she gasps, her eyes widening as she spots your screen. “Wait a second—flavored condoms?” She immediately claps her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “You should totally make a chocolate-strawberry one!”

You turn to give her a judging look without saying a word.

“Come on!” she cuts in, grinning. “Think about it. It’s classic, it’s romantic, it’s delicious.” She waggles her eyebrows at you. “And I bet Chris would love it.”

Your face heats up instantly. “Jane!”

She chuckles as she leans against your desk, watching you type away. “You know,” she starts, crossing her arms, “most people take a break after successfully launching a product. Maybe go on a vacation, treat themselves, do something fun.”

You keep your eyes on the screen. “I am doing something fun,” you say dryly, adjusting some of your notes.

Jane scoffs. “Oh yeah, I can totally see the excitement radiating off you. You should allow yourself to slack off once in a while.”

You roll your eyes. “Slacking off isn’t going to help me develop new product variants.”

She rolls her eyes at you and then she slams her hands on the table. “I’m suggesting that we take a trip this weekend. We can go to the beach, a spa, or even a nice hotel with a rooftop pool. You need a break.”

Her suggestion actually sounds nice. You could use a weekend away, just relaxing with Jane, free from all the stress of work. But then you remember Chris and his just as tempting offer.

You hesitate, torn between the two options. You don’t want to say no to Chris—especially after the way he looked at you that night, like he genuinely wanted to take care of you. But at the same time, you don’t want to reject Jane either.

As if the thought summons him, Chris walks into the elevator. You tense slightly, caught off guard by his sudden presence. Of all places and times, you didn’t expect to run into him here.

He stands beside you, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable as the doors slide shut. The air in the elevator feels thick with unspoken words, but neither of you say anything at first.

Then, Chris finally breaks the silence. “You don’t need to pack a lot of things for tomorrow.”

You blink, turning to him in confusion. “Tomorrow?”

Chris finally looks at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

Your mouth parts slightly, realization hitting you. So he just decided that you’re going with him? No further discussion? Before you can even think of what to say, the elevator dings, reaching the parking basement.

Chris steps out first, turning back just slightly to say, “See you tomorrow.”

-

Saturday morning arrives, and your bag sits neatly packed by the door. You stand a few feet away, staring at it, arms crossed, deep in thought. You haven’t really accepted either Jane’s or Chris’s offer, yet here you are, packed and ready for something. The indecision gnaws at you. If you go with Jane, you’ll get a fun, carefree trip, but if you go with Chris…

You sigh, pressing your fingers against your temples. You don’t even know why you’re hesitating so much. It’s just a trip, right? Just a short getaway to relax, exactly what Jane has been telling you to do. But Chris is the one who planned this. He wants to take you somewhere to relax.

Your phone buzzes on the table, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hesitate before walking over and picking it up. It's a message from Chris.

I’m on my way.

Your stomach flips. So that’s it—he’s already coming. You can still change your mind. You can still text Jane and tell her to meet up instead. But as you stare at your phone screen, you realize you’re not typing. You’re just waiting.

A few minutes later, your phone rings, the sound cutting through the quiet of your apartment. You glance at the screen—Chris. You hesitate before answering. “Hello?”

“I’m outside,” he says smoothly. “Take your time, but I just wanted to let you know I’m here.”

Your heart does an odd little flip at his voice. You walk toward the window, peeking through the curtains. And there he is—standing by his car, dressed casually in a plain t-shirt and jeans, yet somehow still managing to look effortlessly good. He leans against the side of the car, one hand in his pocket, his gaze occasionally flickering toward the building entrance as he waits for you.

You swallow. This is really happening. “…Okay. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Chris hums in approval. “See you soon.”

The call ends, and you exhale, glancing back at your packed bag. There’s no turning back now.

-

After two hours of driving, Chris finally pulls into the grand entrance of a luxurious hotel, nestled away from the city’s chaos. The moment you step out of the car, you take in the stunning surroundings—the peaceful scenery, the fresh air, and the sheer elegance of the place.

“You brought me here?” you ask, looking up at the towering hotel.

Chris smirks as he hands his keys to the valet. “Yeah. This is where you can fully relax.”

You follow him inside, still in awe. The lobby is just as grand as the exterior—high ceilings, warm lighting, and a sense of tranquility that makes you realize just how tense you’ve been lately.

At the check-in counter, Chris handles everything smoothly, and before you know it, the two of you are in the elevator, heading up to your suite.

When you enter, your breath catches. The place is massive—spacious living area, floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view, and elegant decor that makes it feel like something out of a travel magazine.

Chris sets his bag down and stretches. “Nice, huh?”

“Nice?” you echo. “This is… way too much.”

He shrugs casually. “Hey, it's okay to spoil yourself once in a while.”

Before you can overthink it, Chris gestures toward the rooms. “Oh, and before you start panicking, I booked a suite with two bedrooms.” He smirks when he glances back at you. “What? Did you think I was gonna make you share a bed with me?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “I wasn’t panicking.”

He chuckles, clearly amused. “Sure you weren’t.”

You grab your bag and head straight for your bedroom, needing a moment to yourself. The suite is spacious, luxurious even, but all you can focus on is the fact that you and Chris are here alone. No Jane, no work, no distractions—just the two of you.

As you unzip your bag and start unpacking, the realization settles in your stomach. You haven't spent this much uninterrupted time with Chris before, not without some work-related excuse to keep things professional. And now, here you are, in a beautiful hotel, just the two of you—

“Hey.”

You jump slightly at the sound of his voice. Turning around, you see Chris leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with an easy smile.

“What do you want to do first?” he asks.

You quickly look away, busying yourself with your bag. “I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”

He hums, as if considering his options. “We could check out the pool, go to the spa, take a walk around… or we could just stay in and order room service.”

The way he says it, with that teasing lilt in his voice, makes you glance at him suspiciously. He chuckles at your reaction but doesn’t push.

After some deliberation, you and Chris end up choosing the spa. A little relaxation doesn’t sound too bad after the past few stressful weeks.

The spa receptionist greets you both warmly, checking the reservation. “Ah, here it is! A couple’s spa package for Mr. and Mrs. Bang.”

Your head snaps toward Chris, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He only grins, utterly unbothered, and shrugs innocently. “Must’ve been a mix-up,” he says, feigning cluelessness.

You don’t buy it for a second, you tilt your head and narrow your eyes suspiciously at him.

He laughs, placing a hand over his chest. “What? It’s just easier to book that way.”

You roll your eyes but don’t push it. The receptionist leads you both to the spa room, explaining the treatments you’ll be getting.

After a relaxing and rejuvenating massage session, the next thing is to soak your bodies in the hot tub. The water is warm, wrapping around you like a soft embrace, steam rising in delicate wisps around the edges of the tub. Your body feels weightless, your muscles still loose from the earlier massage, but your mind is anything but relaxed. Because right next to you, Chris is lounging, his bare shoulders glistening with moisture, his skin slightly reddened from the heat.

You’re sitting close—so close that your legs occasionally brush under the water, sending small ripples between you. The scent of essential oils lingers in the air, mixing with the faint traces of Chris’s cologne, now softened by the steam. His body, partially submerged, is strong and toned, his chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm. The water laps at his skin, highlighting the definition of his collarbones, the faint flush of heat trailing down his neck and over his chest.

Chris tilts his head back slightly, eyes half-lidded as he exhales a deep sigh. “This isn’t so bad, huh?” he muses, voice low and lazy, like he’s savoring the moment.

You nod, though you’re barely paying attention to his words. The atmosphere is thick—something about the closeness, the warmth, the way the steam clings to both of you, makes it hard to breathe.

Then, he shifts. Just slightly, but enough that your arms brush, and you swear you feel the heat of his skin even through the water. Your heart stumbles in your chest, but you force yourself to stay composed.

Chris glances at you from the side, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You’re quiet.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m just enjoying the peace.”

His smirk widens, and he leans in just a fraction. “So, do I make a good husband?”

You scoff, flicking a small splash of water his way. “I knew you put ‘Mr. and Mrs. Bang’ on purpose.”

Instead of coming up with another of his witty remarks, his hand reaches up. His fingertips graze your cheek as he tucks a damp strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

The steam swirls around you, the water lapping softly as you lock eyes with him. And suddenly, it’s there—that pull, that tension that’s been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Chris’s lips part slightly, as if he’s about to say something. But then, just as quickly as it came, he exhales, leans back, and lets the moment slip away. The warmth remains, though—not just from the water, but from the ghost of his touch on your skin.

-

The hotel room is quiet except for the TV faintly playing from the living area, but your mind is anything but still. The warmth from the spa still lingers on your skin, but there’s also something else—something unspoken that settled between you and Chris in that hot tub.

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your dress and smoothing out the fabric. A knock on the door startles you and before you can answer, the door creaks open, and Chris steps inside, leaning against the doorframe. His casual stance contrasts with the way his gaze lingers on you, like he’s momentarily forgotten why he came here in the first place.

You shift under his stare. “What?”

His lips parting slightly before he huffs a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Nothing. I just—” He pauses, finally pulling his eyes away to clear his throat. “I was gonna ask if Mexican food sounds good for dinner.”

You nod. “Mexican food sounds great.”

A small smile tugs at his lips, and then there it is again—that look. Soft, lingering, like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t but can’t help himself.

The air thickens between you. But just as quickly as it comes, he straightens, pushing off the doorframe. “Alright.”

You barely get a word out before he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You exhale, staring at the door for a moment before turning back to the mirror. Your reflection looks just as confused as you feel.

It only takes a ten minutes of walk to get to the restaurant. It is lively, filled with chatter, laughter, and upbeat music playing in the background. The casual, fun atmosphere helps ease some of the tension sitting in your chest since earlier, and you’re grateful for it. It feels like a normal dinner—just two colleagues unwinding after a stressful few weeks.

Chris sits across from you, his elbows resting on the table as he scans the menu. Then, out of nowhere, he glances up at you and smirks.

“You look really nice tonight,” he says, voice low but clear over the music.

Your fingers pause on the menu, heat creeping up your neck. “Thanks, Chris,” you murmur, trying to focus on the list of dishes instead of the way he’s looking at you.

The waiter comes with the drinks first and Chris wastes no time to initiate a toast. He lifts his glass, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "To a well-deserved break," he says, eyes locked on yours.

You mirror his action, tapping your glass lightly against his. "To a well-deserved break," you echo, feeling the warmth of the moment settle between you.

Just as you're about to take a sip, a voice interrupts.

"Now, this is a sight I wasn't expecting."

You freeze, lowering your glass as you turn toward the voice.

Han Jisung stands beside your table, hands in his pockets, wearing that signature playful smirk. His gaze flickers between you and Chris before settling on you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Fancy running into you here," Han says, tilting his head. "And with such fine company, too."

You slowly set your glass down, eyebrows raising in mild surprise. "Han?"

Han grins. "What, no warm welcome?" He pulls out a chair from the empty table beside you and plops down like he belongs there. "I mean, I know you’re glad to see me.”

You exhale a shaky, awkward laugh. "What are you doing here?"

Han nonchalantly shrugs. "My favorite musicians are doing this coaching clinic but now..." He looks back at you, eyes gleaming with mischief. "I believe love brought me here."

Han stays exactly where he is, making himself comfortable as if he was invited. The waiter comes by, and without missing a beat, Han orders a drink for himself before turning his full attention back to you.

“So,” he starts, leaning his elbows on the table. “Are you two dating?”

You almost choke on your sip of water. “No!”

Chris raises an eyebrow at your immediate denial but says nothing.

Han hums, tilting his head. “Really? You’re having a private dinner, in a fancy hotel, after spending the whole day together.” He taps his chin, pretending to think. “Sounds very date-like to me.”

You shake your head, trying to keep your voice even. “Chris is the product manager. I’m just an employee.”

Han leans back in his chair, grinning. “That so?” He flicks his gaze to Chris, then back to you. “Then I guess that means I still have a chance.”

Chris exhales a small laugh, shaking his head as he picks up his drink. "You're really saying that in front of me?"

Han just smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What? I’d rather be upfront than sneak around.”

You don’t respond, feeling the weight of both their gazes on you. Instead, you take a slow sip of your drink, pretending you didn’t hear the question at all.

Chris doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s watching your reaction closely. The energy at the table shifts, tension weaving itself into the playful conversation. This dinner is turning out to be far more complicated than you expected.

-

After dinner, Han stretches his arms above his head and flashes you both an easy grin. “Alright, since I crashed your dinner, how about another round of drinks? My treat.”

You open your mouth to decline, but Han quickly raises a hand. “Ah, ah. No excuses. I insist.”

Chris exhales through his nose, glancing at you before shrugging. “Guess we don’t have a choice, huh?”

Han smirks. “Exactly.”

And that’s how you find yourself nursing another drink while Han chatters away, switching between teasing you and throwing light jabs at Chris. The atmosphere is playful, but there's an underlying tension—one you can’t quite put your finger on.

After a while, Han glances toward the back of the bar where a pool table sits unoccupied. “Hey, Chris,” he says, nudging his shoulder. “How about a round of billiards?”

Chris barely looks up from his glass. “Nah, I’m good.”

Han clicks his tongue. “Come on, what’s the matter? Scared I’ll wipe the floor with you?”

Chris scoffs, finally looking up. “I just don’t feel like playing.”

Han leans in, grinning. “Or maybe you don’t want to play in front of her because you’re bad at it.”

Chris rolls his eyes, but you can see the challenge sinking in. He takes a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down. “Alright, fine. One round.”

Han’s grin widens. “That’s the spirit.”

And just like that, they both get up, leaving you caught between them. You sit there, unsure whether you should follow or stay put. But then Han turns and gives you a wink. “Come on, you should watch. It'll be fun.”

You stand near the pool table, watching as Han and Chris take their turns. It’s hard not to admire them, each in their own way. Han plays with an easy confidence, spinning the cue in his hand between shots, throwing playful smirks in your direction every time he sinks a ball. He knows you’re watching—thrives on it, even—and winks at you whenever your eyes linger on him for too long. Chris, on the other hand, is completely focused. He lines up each shot with precise calculation, his movements fluid and controlled. He doesn’t notice the way you stare as he leans over the table, one hand bracing against the felt, the other guiding the cue through the gap of his thumb and index finger. His execution is flawless, the sharp crack of the cue ball meeting its target reverberating through the air before the ball rolls cleanly into the pocket.

Your gaze lingers a little too long on the way his shirt stretches across his back as he moves, the flex of his forearms, the quiet concentration etched into his face.

The game becomes more intense as it nears its end, the atmosphere thick with unspoken competition. Chris is leading—by a lot—but Han remains unfazed, leaning casually against the pool table as he watches Chris line up his next shot, stretching his shoulder before finally taking it.

“You’re scarily good at this,” you comment, watching as Chris smoothly sinks another ball.

Chris smirks, straightening up as he twirls the cue stick in his hand. “Just lucky.”

Han chuckles at that, shaking his head. “Bullshit. You knew exactly how that shot was going to play out.”

Chris only shrugs, his smirk widening. “Guess I’m just built different.”

You stifle a laugh, but Han only grins, completely unfazed by his impending loss. He rests his hip against the edge of the table, spinning his cue between his fingers as he glances at you. “Don’t you think Chris should’ve warned me that he’s a pro before I agreed to this game?”

You glance between them, lips twitching. “I mean… you were the one who challenged him.”

Chris hums in agreement as he leans down for his next shot, his muscles flexing subtly beneath his shirt. “Exactly. I was just minding my own business.”

Han tilts his head, smirking. “And yet, here we are.”

Chris doesn’t respond, only focusing on his final shot. The cue ball strikes cleanly, sending the last striped ball into the pocket with ease. The eight-ball is next, and Han watches, unfazed, as Chris lines up the winning shot.

“Make it quick, champ,” Han drawls, stepping back. “Put me out of my misery.”

Chris exhales a quiet chuckle before smoothly sinking the eight-ball. The moment the ball drops into the pocket, he straightens up, placing the cue stick on the table with a victorious smirk.

“Well,” Han sighs dramatically, “I suppose I should’ve known better than to challenge the product manager.”

Chris grins, holding out a hand. “Good game.”

Han eyes it for a moment before shaking it with a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. You got me this time.” Then he turns to you, flashing that familiar playful glint in his eyes. “Now, how about a consolation drink?”

Chris holds up a hand at him. “No, thank you. We're heading back to our room.”

Han raises a brow at Chris’s refusal, but the glint in his eyes shows his amusement. “Calling it a night already?”

Chris shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. We’ve got an early morning.”

Han hums knowingly, then glances at you. “What about you? No celebratory drink with the loser?”

Before you can answer, Chris smoothly cuts in, “She’s had enough for tonight.” Then, without missing a beat, he tilts his head at Han. “Are you covering the drinks?”

Han exhales a laugh, shaking his head at the sudden change in subject. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

Chris grins. “Appreciate it, man.” He gives Han a pat on the back before stepping beside you, placing a hand on the small of your back in an easy, natural motion. “We’ll see you around.”

You barely have time to react before Chris is guiding you toward the exit, the warmth of his hand lingering against your spine. You glance over your shoulder to see Han still smirking, watching the two of you leave as if he just lost a game bigger than billiards.

You look over your shoulder at Han and softly mutters, “Goodnight, Han.”

Chris doesn’t look back. If anything, he carries himself like a champion walking away with his prize.

-

Back in the hotel suite, you kick off your shoes with a sigh, feeling the exhaustion from the night settle in. Chris locks the door behind him, rolling his shoulders as he stretches.

Just as you’re about to head to your bedroom, you pause and turn to him. “Why did you tell Han we have an early morning tomorrow?”

Chris leans against the back of the couch, looking completely at ease. “Because we do.”

You narrow your eyes. “Since when?”

“Since I decided I’m taking you to look around the town tomorrow,” he replies smoothly.

You blink at him. “You just made that up on the spot, didn’t you?”

Chris grins. “Maybe. But it’s a good idea, isn’t it?”

You exhale, crossing your arms as you study him. He doesn’t seem the least bit guilty about throwing you into plans you didn’t even know existed. Instead, he just watches you expectantly, waiting for your reaction.

After a moment, you shake your head with a small laugh. “Fine.”

Just as you turn toward your bedroom, Chris’s voice stops you. “You couldn’t stop staring at me back there.”

You freeze, then slowly turn to see him smirking, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the couch. “I—what?” you stammer.

“At the pool table,” he continues, tilting his head slightly. “You were watching me the whole time. Were you impressed?” His smirk deepens, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Heat rushes to your face. “I—I was just watching the game,” you sputter, trying to sound nonchalant, but you know you’re failing miserably.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Mmm-hmm. Sure.”

You scowl at him, determined to regain control of the situation. “Goodnight, Chris.”

Then, before he can say anything else, you spin around and march into your bedroom, shutting the door a little too quickly behind you. On the other side of the door, you swear you can hear him chuckling to himself.

-

You must admit that you had one of the nicest sleep last night and you wake up feeling so refreshed. You step out of your bedroom, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, only to freeze mid-step.

Chris’s door swings open a moment later, and he walks out, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. His shirtless torso is on full display—his toned abs, the defined lines of his muscles, the way his sweatpants hang low on his hips. And then… there’s the very obvious outline beneath them. Your eyes widen before you can stop yourself.

Chris catches your stare almost instantly, and instead of covering up or acting embarrassed, he grins. “Morning.” His voice is still rough with sleep, lazy and amused.

You snap your gaze up to his face, your cheeks heating instantly. “Morning,” you mutter, pretending you didn’t just get caught blatantly looking.

Chris smirks as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. “You okay?”

“I—yeah, of course.” You clear your throat, quickly moving toward where the phone is to distract yourself. “I'll order breakfast.”

Chris chuckles under his breath as he walks past you, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. “Sure. But take your time.” His voice drops a little. “Seems like you need a moment.”

You don’t dare look at him as you pick up the phone to call room service, but you can feel his gaze lingering on you, his amusement practically radiating through the air.

-

The town is lively, filled with the buzz of locals and tourists alike. Cobblestone streets wind between charming shops and cafés, and the air carries the scent of freshly baked bread and roasted coffee.

You and Chris walk side by side through the bustling streets, taking in the sights. He’s dressed casually in a thin black sweater and jeans, hands tucked into the pockets, his sunglasses perched on his nose. Every so often, he glances at you, making sure you’re keeping up, and when the crowd gets too thick, his hand brushes against the small of your back, guiding you through.

“This place is nice,” you comment, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. “It’s got that old-town charm.”

Chris nods in agreement and then he tilts his head toward the main plaza. “Come on. There’s a really good café around the corner.”

The café is small yet cozy, the kind of place that feels warm and welcoming the moment you step inside. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and buttery pastries lingers in the air as you and Chris settle into a corner table. He orders for both of you—croissants, a slice of cake to share, and two lattes.

“Try this,” Chris says, pushing a forkful of cake toward you. You roll your eyes but take a bite, the sweetness melting on your tongue.

Just as you’re about to comment on how good it is, your phone buzzes in your pocket. When you pull it out, Jane’s name flashes on the screen.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Chris, grabbing your phone and stepping outside to take the call.

The cool air greets you as you press the phone to your ear. “Hey.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Jane says immediately, skipping the pleasantries. “You’re not sick.”

You let out a sigh, you should have keep your phone turned off after sending a text to her that you couldn't go on a trip with her because you don’t feel well. “Okay, fine. You caught me.”

“So? Where are you?”

You hesitate before admitting, “I’m… on a trip. With Chris.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then— “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. So, you and Chris are dating?”

“What? No!” You shake your head, glancing over your shoulder through the café window where Chris is stirring his coffee, completely unaware of your conversation. “It’s just... a trip. That’s all.”

Jane hums, unconvinced. “Right.”

“It is,” you insist.

“Mm-hmm,” Jane drags out the sound, then casually adds, “Don’t say I didn't warn you.”

You frown. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Jane snickers. “I’m just saying, be careful.”

Before you can demand further clarification, she hangs up, leaving you standing there with a million thoughts running through your head.

When you return to the table, Chris raises a brow. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you say quickly, sinking into your seat. You take a sip of your latte, but your mind is elsewhere, Jane’s words echoing in your head.

Chris is watching you closely, like he can tell something’s off. “You sure?”

You nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah.”

The next stop on your sightseeing trip leads you to a bustling street lined with small vendors, each stall displaying an array of handcrafted trinkets, souvenirs, and snacks. The soft jingle of wind chimes mixes with the hum of conversation, and your eyes wander over the colorful selection of charm keychains at one of the stalls.

Chris reaches for a pair of matching ones—tiny silver pendants shaped like crescent moons. “What do you think?” he asks, turning to you with a small smile. “Should we get matching ones?”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “Why?”

Chris tilts his head slightly, looking genuinely confused. “I don’t know. Just thought it’d be nice.”

You let out a sigh, the question that’s been gnawing at you finally slipping out. “Chris… why are you doing this?”

His brows furrow. “Doing what?”

“This,” you say, motioning vaguely between the two of you. “Taking me on this trip, buying matching keychains—acting like we’re…” You trail off, shaking your head.

Chris doesn’t answer immediately, his fingers still loosely holding the keychains.

“I mean, I’m thankful for everything,” you continue, your voice softer now. “You helped me with the product, you were there for the launch, and I really appreciate it. But I just… I don’t understand why you’re doing all of this.”

Still, he doesn’t say anything. His lips part slightly as if he’s about to speak, but no words come out.

You sigh, feeling a sudden wave of frustration—not just at him, but at yourself, at the situation, at the uncertainty pressing against your chest. “I don’t— I don’t even know why I’m here,” you mumble before turning on your heel and walking away, leaving Chris standing there in front of the vendor, still holding the matching charms.

“I don’t need you anymore, Chris,” you blurt out and it's coming out harsher than you intended to.

Before you know it, you walk away, your steps quick and uneven, as the inexplicable anger coils tighter in your chest. You don’t understand why you feel this way—why the warmth of the day suddenly feels suffocating, why Chris’s kindness is making you uneasy instead of flattered.

You weave through the crowd, barely registering the faces passing by. Your pulse pounds in your ears, and your thoughts race in circles. Maybe it’s because Jane’s words are still ringing in your mind. Maybe it’s because you don’t know what Chris wants from you. Or maybe it’s because a part of you is scared to admit that you want something from him, too.

Before you can overthink it any further, you spot a taxi idling by the curb. Without hesitation, you flag it down and slip into the backseat, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

As the taxi pulls away, you rest your head against the window, watching the streets blur past. You try to shake off the tight feeling in your chest, but it lingers, stubborn and heavy.

-

When you finally arrive at the hotel, you step out of the taxi with a heavy breath, your emotions still tangled. You don’t want to go back to the suite—not yet. The idea of facing Chris again, of sitting in the silence of your thoughts, feels unbearable.

So, instead of heading toward the elevators, you make a sharp turn down the hallway, following the soft hum of music and conversation until you reach the hotel bar.

The dim lighting casts a warm glow over the space, the air thick with the scent of aged liquor and citrus. A few patrons are scattered around, some in quiet conversations, others lost in their own world with a drink in hand. You slide onto a stool at the bar, exhaling as you prop your elbows against the counter.

The bartender approaches, offering a polite smile. “What can I get you?”

You hesitate for only a second. “Whiskey, neat.”

The bartender nods before turning away, and you press your lips together, trying to push down the lingering frustration in your chest. You tell yourself you just need a moment to breathe, to clear your head. But deep down, you know you’re avoiding more than just Chris.

The warmth of the whiskey spreads through your body, making everything feel a little too soft, a little too slow. You don’t know how many drinks you’ve had by now—just that when you finally stand up from the bar, the room tilts slightly, and your legs feel like they belong to someone else.

You blink, trying to steady yourself, but before you can take another step, a firm hand catches your arm.

"Whoa there," a familiar voice drawls, amused. "Didn't think I'd see you like this tonight."

You look up through the haze, and for a moment, you think—Chris? But no, there’s something off. The grip is steady but playful, the warmth of the body against yours more teasing than concerned.

Your brows furrow as you sway slightly, and he easily shifts to support your weight, slipping an arm around your waist. "Let's get you somewhere before you pass out on me."

You want to protest, but everything is too heavy, and your tongue feels slow. So you just let him guide you, his body pressed close as he half-carries you toward the elevator.

By the time you reach a room, he’s lowering you onto the sofa, his hands lingering just a second longer than necessary before he steps back. You blink blearily up at him, the alcohol making your thoughts sluggish.

"About earlier, I—" you murmur, your words slurred. "I'm sorry, Chris."

You blink a few times, trying to clear the haze in your mind, and when you finally focus on the man in front of you, you realize it’s not Chris—it’s Han.

Han tilts his head, watching your reaction with amusement. “Wow,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. “I save you from stumbling around drunk, and you call me by another guy’s name? That hurts, babe.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but nothing comes out. You’re too disoriented, too embarrassed.

Han just chuckles, shaking his head. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room before the product manager turns over this place,” he jokingly says, reaching out to help you up from the sofa. His grip is firm but careful as he leans down slightly.

Just as he’s about to pull you up, there’s a knock on the door. Han pauses. You barely register it before he’s already walking over, pulling the door open with his usual ease. And then—

Chris. He stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his gaze shifting from Han to you slumped on the sofa. His eyes narrow slightly, taking in the situation.

Han leans against the doorframe, an easy smirk playing on his lips. “You’re bothering us, man,” he says, tilting his head slightly toward you as if the two of you had been in the middle of something.

Chris, unimpressed, ignores him completely and looks at you. “Let’s go back to our room,” he says, his voice firm but not unkind.

Han, however, steps forward, blocking the doorway before Chris can step inside. “What, you think you’re the only one with a big dick?” he taunts, arching a brow. "I can satisfy her just fine."

You fumble, shaking your head, trying to deny whatever this conversation is turning into—but your words come out slurred, incoherent.

Han laughs at your attempt. “See? She can’t even say it properly. Must be overwhelmed.” He turns back to you, lowering his voice slightly, his tone teasing. “Mine is better, right babe?”

Chris scoffs, his jaw ticking. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Han’s smirk widens, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You know what? Let’s ask her,” he says, looking at you expectantly.

You open your mouth, struggling to string together a sentence, but the alcohol has made your thoughts sluggish. Your gaze bounces between the two men, their contrasting expressions—Chris, standing tall and tense, and Han, relaxed and enjoying every second of this.

Then Han grins down at you. “We both know you like mine better.”

And that’s when it just bursts out of you—louder than you intended, words tumbling before you can stop them.

“I like Chris!”

Silence.

Both men freeze, their gazes snapping to you. Your brain catches up a second too late, and your eyes widen in horror as you quickly scramble to correct yourself.

“I—I mean, I like Chris’s dick better!”

Chris exhales sharply, a sound dangerously close to a laugh, and when you dare glance up at him, you can see it—he’s trying not to smile. His lips twitch, amusement flickering in his eyes despite the situation.

Han, on the other hand, whistles lowly. “Damn. Didn’t even have to try that hard.” He shakes his head, feigning disappointment. “I guess that settles it, then.”

Chris doesn’t waste another second. He steps forward, taking you by the hand—not rough, but firm enough to leave no room for argument. “Come on,” he murmurs, guiding you carefully toward the door.

As he leads you out, Han calls after you with a cheeky grin. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me!”

-

You step out of the bathroom, damp hair clinging to the sides of your face, the cold shower having done its job in sobering you up. As you tighten the belt around your bathrobe, you notice Chris already waiting for you in the suite’s dimly lit living area, a glass of water in his hand.

His gaze lifts the second he hears you, scanning you briefly before he holds the glass out. “Feel better now?” His voice is quiet, careful.

You nod, stepping forward to take the water from him. As you drink, Chris gestures for you to sit on the sofa, and he takes the spot beside you. The room is still, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning, and for a moment, neither of you speak.

Then Chris exhales, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry.”

You put the glass down and hold your hands up at him. “No—I should be the one apologizing. I—”

But Chris shakes his head. “I’m not talking about earlier. Well, not just earlier.” He pauses, shifting slightly so that he’s facing you. “I should’ve been honest with you from the start.”

Your breath catches, sensing the weight in his words. He watches you carefully, he licks his before saying, “I like you.”

The words are soft but firm, spoken as if he’s been holding them in for too long. Chris lets out a quiet, almost self-deprecating chuckle. “I liked you before all of this,” he continues, his fingers rubbing against his knee. “But you never noticed me. And I thought... maybe that meant you weren’t interested.” He hesitates, then sighs. “That’s why I took this whole condom thing as an excuse. Just so I could be close to you.”

Inside your chest, your heart stutters and your lips part slightly, but no words come out. You completely taken aback by his confession.

His eyes search yours, waiting, wanting. Then, with more certainty, he says it again—clearer, deeper. “I like you.”

The room feels smaller, like the air has thickened around you, pressing in with the weight of everything unsaid between you.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, almost hesitant.

Chris doesn’t break eye contact, and in the soft glow of the lamp, you see it—the quiet sincerity, the vulnerability he rarely ever lets show. He’s been waiting for this moment. For you.

Your heart is pounding. You don’t know if it’s from the weight of his confession or the way Chris is looking at you—hopeful, expectant, like he’s holding his breath for your answer. So you kiss him. You lean in without thinking, without hesitating, pressing your lips against his.

Chris responds instantly, a quiet sound of surprise escaping him before he kisses you back, his hand instinctively coming up to cup your cheek. The warmth of his lips, the way he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, the way he pulls you just a little closer—it’s overwhelming, dizzying, and you don’t realize how much you’ve wanted this until now.

When you finally pull away, your breaths are uneven, your hands trembling slightly against him. Chris watches you, his eyes dark and laced with something unreadable—until a slow, teasing smirk spreads across his face.

“So,” he drawls, voice lower now, “does this mean you like me? Or just my extra large dick?”

Your stomach flips, and you immediately fumble for a response. “I—I like you! Of course, I like you—”

Chris raises an eyebrow, still smirking, enjoying how he can easily tease you.

You groan, realizing your mistake. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t like your dick—”

Chris bites back a laugh while you sigh in frustration and run a hand through your hair before forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You look at him, trying to keep your voice steady. “What I mean is... your dick is a part of you. And I like you—all of you. As a whole person.”

Then you realize what you just said, and your face heats up instantly.

Chris grins, clearly enjoying your flustered state. He leans in, closing the distance between you again. “I really like when you get flustered like this,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you again.

This time, he kisses you slower, deeper, savoring the moment. And when he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, “I like you whole too.”

-

You never thought this was how things would turn out. What started as a professional arrangement—just testing a product, just a temporary thing—became something else entirely. Somewhere between the teasing, the lingering glances, the way Chris always found a way to pull you into his orbit, you fell. Hard.

And now, lying beside him in bed, as you hover over him, your fingers brushing against his jaw before leaning in to kiss him again, you wonder how you ever thought you could keep things casual.

Slowly, his fingers work at the tie of your bathrobe, loosening it with quiet precision. You feel the fabric slacken around you, but he doesn’t push it off just yet. Instead, he looks up at you, his gaze heavy, filled with something you can’t quite put into words.

You pull back just enough to take him in—the way his lips are slightly parted, his hair mussed from your hands, the way his chest rises and falls steadily beneath you.

Chris catches your lingering stare, and a slow grin tugs at his lips. “What are you thinking?” His voice is warm, teasing, but there’s an underlying softness to it.

You hesitate before speaking. “I was just thinking… I never expected this.”

He chuckles as he runs his hand through your hair. “What? That you’d fall for me?”

You briefly look away before shyly denying it. “I didn’t say that.”

He grins, brushing his nose against yours. “You didn’t have to.”

You don’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, you kiss him again, slower this time, letting yourself sink into the feeling of his lips, the way he responds to you so effortlessly.

As your mouths move together, you feel him shift beneath you, his hands finally sliding the bathrobe off your shoulders, letting it slip from your body. The cool air kisses your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his hands, the way they roam over you with quiet reverence.

Chris hums against your lips, his fingers tracing slow, circular patterns along your back. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper.

You shiver—not from the cold, but from the way he says it. From the way he looks at you, as if you’re something out of this world, ethereal. And then he’s pulling you down again, kissing you deeper, holding you against him like he has no intention of letting go.

The tension in the room only intensifies as your fingers trail down his front, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. Chris exhales softly as your hand moves lower, calmly working open the button of his jeans before tugging down the zipper. He lowly groans when you push the fabric aside, his arousal springing free into your waiting hand.

You wrap your fingers around his cock, feeling the heat of him pulse beneath your touch as you start to lightly stroke him. He groans in response, his head tilting back against the pillows, his hands gripping the nape of your neck as he exhales a shaky breath.

“You’re really not gonna take it slow, huh?” he murmurs, his voice roughened by want, but there’s amusement laced in his words.

You glance up at him, a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips before you lower yourself further, trailing soft kisses down the ridges of his abs. His muscles tense beneath your touch, his breath uneven as you take your time.

Chris watches you with darkened eyes, his lips parted as you move lower still. Your head is hanging only inches from where he wants you the most and you're looking at him with mischievous glints in your eyes. His hand moves to your hair, not guiding, just resting, as if grounding himself in the feeling of you.

Keeping your eyes locked with his, your tongue glides slowly along his length, tracing every ridge and vein as you take your time tasting him. He growls low in his throat, the sound reverberating through the room, his grip tightening in your hair for just a second before he forces himself to relax.

When you finally take him into your mouth, inch by inch, he exhales sharply, his abs flexing beneath your hands. You try to take more of him, but his sheer size makes it difficult, and he notices immediately.

"Take it slow," he murmurs, his voice thick with restraint. His hand cradles the back of your head, not pushing, just guiding. "You're doing so well."

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock and you lick your lips before you try again, taking him slower this time. You let out a soft, breathy sound against him, sending vibrations through his body. He props himself up on one elbow, glancing down to watch you, his gaze dark and filled with something deeper than just desire. The way your lips stretch around him, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him—he can’t tear his eyes away.

"Look at you," he mutters, slipping his fingers through your hair, brushing it back so he can see you better. His thumb grazes your cheek, his touch almost reverent. "Making me feel so good."

You feel the heat of his gaze searing into you, the way his muscles tense beneath your touch, the way his breath shudders out in ragged exhales. Every sound he makes, every soft praise he gives, spurs you on, making you want to push his control to the edge.

“Damn,” he breathes out, voice strained. His fingers thread through your hair, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. “You’re really trying to ruin me, huh?”

Your hand moves in perfect sync with your mouth, gliding along the rest of his length as you work him over with slow, gentle strokes. You can feel him losing his restraint, his fingers gripping your hair a little too tightly as he fights against the pleasure building inside him.

"Shit," he groans, his voice raw, his control slipping fast. You glance up at him through your lashes, meeting his dark, hooded gaze, and that alone seems to push him to the edge.

Before he can warn you, his body shudders, and he spills into your mouth with a sharp, choked sound. The warmth floods your tongue too quickly for you to take it all, and some dribbles past your lips, running down your chin.

Chris curses under his breath, quickly sitting up, his hand cupping your cheek. "I'm sorry—I didn’t mean to—" he starts, his thumb swiping at the mess on your chin, but you just softly smile at him in response. Then, without breaking eye contact, you tilt your head back slightly and swallow.

He watches, his chest rising and falling heavily, his lips parting in awe before he exhales a rough chuckle. His eyes darken with something deeper than just satisfaction.

"That was so fucking hot," he roughly murmurs before pulling you close and kissing you hard.

Chris pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes filled with something intense, something hungry. Before you can react, he tilts your chin up and swipes his tongue along your skin, cleaning up the remnants of his release with slow, little licks. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and before you can even catch your breath, his lips crash into yours again, deep and consuming.

Then, just as quickly, he pulls away and slides off the bed. You watch, dazed, as he strides across the room toward your bag perched on the chair.

Your stomach twists when you realize what he’s doing. "Chris—"

He ignores your protest, rummaging through your belongings with zero shame. "I know you keep them in here," he says, amusement laced in his tone.

You bury your face in your hands, mortified, as he finally retrieves a condom. But instead of returning right away, his fingers pause, and when you peek through your fingers, you see him holding something else. Something small. Something very, very familiar.

Chris turns around, holding up a tiny bottle and you slightly panic remembering the edible lube Jane slipped into your bag after the expo. His smirk deepens as he examines the label. "How did you know I like watermelon?" He quirks a brow at you.

Your face burns, completely flustered and a little mortified. "I—I didn’t!"

He hums, clearly enjoying your embarrassment, before tossing the bottle onto the bed beside you. Then he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Guess we’ll have to put it to good use, then."

Chris pops the cap open with a soft click, and the sweet, fruity scent of watermelon fills the space between you. His gaze flickers up to yours, dark and amused, before he tips the bottle over your skin.

The cool gel dribbles onto your chest, your stomach, the sensitive curves of your breasts. You gasp at the sensation, your body tensing as he smears it over your skin with his broad hands, rubbing slow, teasing circles.

"Sensitive, huh?" His voice is warm with amusement as he smooths the lube over your skin, making sure to spread it evenly. "I’ll be gentle."

You barely have time to process his words before he leans in, his mouth pressing against your collarbone. His tongue swipes against your skin, slow and deliberate, tasting the sticky sweetness. The heat of his mouth contrasts with the cool gel, making you shiver as he works his way down, following the trail he created with his hands.

Chris hums as he licks a stripe up your chest, the vibration sending a fresh wave of tingles down your spine. "Not bad," he murmurs against your skin before he kisses the skin under your navel.

The next thing you know, his lips latch onto your hardening nipple, tugging it between his teeth, sucking at it so hard before finally letting go, leaving your nipple wet and swollen. He does the same with the other one but this time, his hand massaging your ample flesh in reverence, the lube makes his hand glides smoothly across the two mounds before he brings them to the middle, allowing him to take both nipples into his mouth.

You arch under his touch, hands gripping the sheets as he takes his time, licking, tasting, teasing. He’s thorough—almost too thorough—as if savoring every inch of you, dragging the moment out until you’re squirming beneath him, breathless and overstimulated.

Chris finally pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips glistening. He grins, voice husky when he says, "I think I might like watermelon even more now."

He watches you with a teasing glint in his eyes as he puts more lube on your most sensitive spot, his fingers moving with deliberate slowness as he smears it all over your pulsating sex. The cool sensation makes you gasp, your body instinctively arching against his touch. His smirk deepens at your reaction, and he dips his head, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before looking up at you.

“You know,” he muses, dragging his fingers lazily through the slickness between your folds, “this might just be my new favorite flavor.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, his warm mouth pressing against your wetness, his tongue gliding through the sweetness he just applied. The contrast between the cool lube and the heat of his tongue sends a shudder through your body. His hands settle on your hips, holding you steady as he takes his time, savoring every movement.

Chris hums against you, the vibration making you gasp again, and he chuckles at your response. He flicks his tongue over your clit before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips glistening. “You taste even sweeter now,” he says, his voice low and playful.

He doesn’t stop until he feels you tremble beneath him, his grip firm yet reassuring as he holds you in place. The tension coiling deep inside you finally unravels, and a soft cry escapes your lips as waves of pleasure crash over you. He doesn’t pull away immediately, instead, his tongue moving gently to prolong your high until you’re left gasping, your body still humming from the aftershocks.

When he finally lifts his head, his mouth is glistening with your essence, his eyes dark with satisfaction. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand before crawling up your body, settling between your legs as he hovers over you. There’s a teasing smirk on his lips as he leans in, brushing his mouth over yours.

“Told you,” he murmurs against your lips, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

You don’t need to ask what he means—you can taste it for yourself as he deepens the kiss, letting you chase the sweetness lingering on his tongue. It’s intoxicating, the mix of his warmth and the remnants of your release making your head spin. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, slow and indulgent, and when he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing just as uneven as yours. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your hip, his touch gentle in contrast to everything that just happened.

“You good?” he asks softly, his voice laced with something deeper—something tender.

You nod, still catching your breath, and he smiles before pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time. “Good,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

-

Instead of rushing right into it, Chris takes his time. His lips press gentle kisses along your collarbone, your shoulders, down your arms—anywhere he can reach. His hands follow the same path, fingertips tracing every inch of your skin, sending warmth through your entire body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. His gaze sweeps over you, and there’s something almost reverent in the way he looks at you, as if he can’t quite believe this is real.

His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing over your skin, his touch so delicate yet so certain. “I still can’t believe I get to touch you like this,” he admits, his voice hushed, almost as if he’s speaking to himself. “That I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, to admire you like this.”

The possessiveness in his words makes your heart stutter, but it’s not suffocating—it’s something deeper, something real. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, before finally capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow, unhurried, and filled with so much emotion that it makes your chest ache. “And I get to kiss you like this, as many times as I want.”

He shifts slightly, reaching between you both, and you hear the soft crinkle of the condom wrapper before he rolls it on. When he hovers over you again, his hands slide along your thighs, spreading them wider as he settles between them. But instead of rushing, he just looks at you, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“I want you to remember this,” he whispers, his thumb brushing along your hip. “I want you to know how much I want you—how much I care about you.”

There’s nothing hurried about the way he touches you, nothing rushed in the way he moves. It’s a moment he’s savoring just as much as you are. And when he finally kisses you again, it’s deep and unspoken in its meaning, telling you everything he doesn’t need to say out loud.

Chris intertwines his fingers with yours as he aligns himself with you. His movements are filled with the same tenderness that lingers in his gaze. When he finally presses his cockto your entrance, he does so with utmost care, inching inside you with a patience that makes you hold your breath.

He pauses once he’s settled deep enough within you, not wanting to hurt you. He drops his head, his forehead pressing against yours as both of you take a moment to adjust—to the feeling, to the closeness, to everything unspoken between you. His thumb brushes soothing circles over the back of your hand, a silent reassurance as he waits for you.

When you finally whisper, "More," your voice is breathy, laced with need, he nods. With another slow, measured push, he eases himself deeper, filling you completely. A low groan escapes his lips, his grip on your hands tightening just slightly.

“God... you feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice husky with restraint. His praise sends warmth through you, making your body tense in the best way. He draws back just enough before sinking into you again, his movements fluid and controlled.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips as pleasure courses through you, and before you can stop yourself, your body clenches around him, the intensity overwhelming. Chris stills for a moment before chuckling softly, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Already?” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. His thumb brushes over your cheek as he smiles down at you, his expression both affectionate and playful. “Guess you really are getting used to me.”

Even as heat floods your face, you can’t help but melt at the way he looks at you—like he’s reveling every second of this moment with you.

Chris stills for a moment, his forehead resting lightly against yours as he breathes you in. His voice is gentle when he asks, “Do you need a moment?”

You shake your head almost immediately, fingers tightening around his. “No,” you whisper, your breath warm against his lips. “Keep going.”

His lips curve into the softest smile before he obeys, rolling his hips with slow, deliberate movements, never breaking eye contact. There’s something about the way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing that matters in this moment, like he wants to memorize every breath, every sigh, every quiet gasp that escapes your lips.

Your hands remain intertwined, his grip firm yet reassuring, grounding you in the moment. Each measured thrust is unrushed, filled with something deeper than just desire. It’s as if he’s pouring every unspoken feeling into the way he moves, into the way he holds you, into the way he kisses your knuckles between each lingering gaze.

The world outside fades, leaving only the quiet creak of the mattress, the mingling of breaths, and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. You feel everything—his touch, his presence, the emotions lingering between you.

Chris leans in, his lips brushing against your cheek before trailing down to your jaw. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with something tender.

And as he continues, keeping that slow, steady rhythm, you realize that this—being here with him, feeling this close—feels like something you never expected but something you never want to end.

This overwhelming feeling is taking over you. Your fingers tighten around Chris’s as you let out a soft, desperate whine. “Chris… I-I’m close.”

He hastily kisses you, his breath warm, his voice nothing but a soothing murmur. “It’s okay, baby,” he reassures you, his movements steady and unhurried. “Just let go.”

His words wash over you like a gentle tide, grounding you as you feel yourself unravel beneath him. But just as you’re about to fall apart, his pace never faltering, his gaze shifts—turning impossibly tender, reverent even. He looks at you as if you’re something sacred, something he never wants to let go of. His fingers squeeze yours as his lips part, his voice barely above a whisper. “You were made just for me.”

The words settle deep inside you, hitting somewhere beyond the physical, beyond the moment. And as you break apart beneath him, as he holds you through it, you realize—you’ve never felt more cherished than you do in this very moment.

Chris keeps moving, his rhythm growing more erratic as he chases his own release. His breaths turn ragged, his grip on your intertwined hands tightening as he buries his face against your neck. The warmth of his body, the way he clings to you, makes everything feel even more intimate.

And then, with a deep, shuddering groan, he finally lets go. His body tenses for a moment before he sinks into you completely, his weight pressing you into the bed as he collapses on top of you.

You wrap your arms around him instinctively, your fingers running soothingly down his back as he relishes the aftershocks of his climax. His chest rises and falls against yours, his breath warm on your skin, and for a long moment, neither of you say anything. There’s no need to—because right now, in this quiet, tangled-up moment, everything is exactly as it should be.

-

The slivers of sunlight shine through the cracks between the curtains. You stir awake, warmth surrounding you, and it takes you a moment to register the steady rise and fall of Chris’s breathing behind you. His strong arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you close, his body pressed flush against yours.

A slow, lazy kiss lands on your shoulder, then another, trailing up to the curve of your neck. His lips are warm, lingering, as if he’s enjoying the feel of you. His hand moves too—palming your breast with a gentle squeeze, your nipple is caught between his fingers.

You shift slightly, turning your head toward him, but before you can even murmur a good morning, he captures your lips in a deep, unhurried kiss. It’s soft at first, teasing, but then he deepens it, his fingers tightening around you as he pulls you impossibly closer. There’s a tenderness to the way he kisses you, like he’s been waiting all night for this.

As Chris finally pulls away from the kiss, his lips hover over yours, reluctant to part completely. You smile softly, your voice still laced with sleep as you murmur, “Good morning.”

He grins, pressing another quick peck to your lips before whispering, “Morning.”

For a moment, the two of you simply lay there, tangled up in each other, until a thought crosses your mind. “Should we be working today?” you ask, half-expecting him to remind you of responsibilities.

But he shakes his head, his fingers absentmindedly drawing patterns on your bare skin. “Let’s take another day off,” he suggests, his tone light, as if it’s the easiest decision in the world.

You hum in agreement, feeling no urge to argue. Just as he leans in for another kiss, you stop him with a playful, “Breakfast?”

Chris sighs dramatically, his lips curling into a smirk. “We can order it later.”

Before you can protest, his hand slips under the duvet, sliding along your thigh before gently lifting it, just enough to allow him access. A quiet giggle escapes you as you feel his morning wood nestled between your legs, his growing arousal pressing against your core.

“How did that get there?” you tease, your voice laced with amusement.

Chris chuckles, his lips brushing over yours. “It's your fault that I can't get enough of you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with affection and something more.

He kisses you again, deep and unhurried, stealing your breath and any lingering thoughts of breakfast. When he breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, he grins and says, “Maybe we should take one week off instead of just one day.”

You laugh softly at his suggestion, shaking your head at his playful grin. “One week?” you echo, arching a brow.

Chris hums, nuzzling against your neck. “Mm-hmm. One whole week. Just you and me.” His voice is warm, coaxing, tempting you into believing that reality can wait just a little longer.

And maybe it can.

Because right now, wrapped up in Chris’s arms, feeling the gentle way he touches you, the lazy kisses he presses to your skin, the way his body molds so perfectly against yours—it’s a moment you don’t want to end. A feeling you don’t want to slip away.

So instead of responding, you just sigh and pull him closer, pressing your lips to his once more, hoping that if you hold on tight enough, you can make this moment last forever.

-

You're in the middle of typing your report when the sharp scent of nail polish fills the air. You glance to the side and see Jane casually lounging next to you, legs crossed, meticulously painting her nails a deep red.

“You know this isn’t your personal salon, right?” you say, arching a brow.

Jane smirks, blowing lightly on her freshly painted nails. “Please, I work hard. I deserve some self-care during office hours.”

Before you can argue, your phone buzzes. You pick it up, and a message from Chris flashes on the screen.

Come to my office.

You swallow, already feeling the anticipation stir in your stomach. “I have to go,” you say, standing up.

Jane doesn't even look up as she caps her nail polish bottle. “Oh, I know where you're going.” She gives you a sly smile. “And yes, please take as much time as you want.”

Heat creeps up your neck, but you don’t dignify her with a response. Instead, you roll your eyes and make your way to Chris’s office, trying not to let your mind wander about why exactly he wants to see you.

After knocking on his door, you let yourself into Chris’s office and close the door behind you. He’s at his desk, leaning back in his chair with one hand resting on the armrest, the other scrolling through something on his screen. At the sound of your footsteps, he looks up and gives you a small, knowing smile.

“Come in,” he says, motioning for you to step closer.

You do, stopping in front of his desk, hands clasped in front of you. “You called?”

Chris leans forward, elbows on the desk. “How’s the development going?”

It takes you a second to register that he’s actually asking about work. You clear your throat. “Good. We’re finalizing the flavored variants for the extra-large line.”

Chris hums, pushing back his chair and standing up. “Flavored, huh?” He takes slow steps toward the door, locking it with a quiet click before turning back to you. “Like what flavors?”

“Strawberry, vanilla, chocolate—”

Your words cut off when he suddenly closes the distance between you, his hands finding your waist, pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his body, the way his fingers press into your lower back, sends a shiver down your spine.

“You’ve been working hard,” Chris murmurs, his breath fanning over your lips. “Think you deserve a little break.”

Before you can say anything, he tilts his head down and presses his lips to yours, soft yet firm, coaxing, as if he’s been waiting all day to do this. The moment you melt into the kiss, he deepens it, one hand moving up to cup the back of your head and the other hand cupping your clothed ass cheek. The locked door, the office setting, the way he holds you like he can’t get enough—it all makes your head spin.

Chris doesn’t break the kiss as he lifts you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of his desk. His hands settle on your thighs, keeping you close as he kisses you again—slow and deep, like he has all the time in the world.

Against his lips, you murmur, “Chris… we’re in the middle of work.”

He pulls back just enough to smirk at you, his eyes dark with amusement. “You can continue. I’m listening.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but the way he looks at you—completely enamored—makes it impossible to push him away. So, despite everything, you attempt to continue.

“The flavored variants… we’re still testing… different formulas,” you say, your voice slightly uneven as Chris leans in, pressing soft kisses along your jaw.

“Mhm,” he hums as he trails down to your neck, his lips warm against your skin.

“We need to make sure… the taste is pleasant without affecting…” You gasp slightly when he finds a sensitive spot on your neck and nips at it. “…the integrity of the material.”

Chris chuckles, the sound low and teasing. “Sounds like important work.”

His lips find yours again, and this time, you don’t even attempt to finish your sentence. You sigh against him, tilting your head as he deepens the kiss, his fingers gripping your hips.

At this point, work is the last thing on your mind so you wrap your arms around Chris, pulling him closer as his lips move against yours, slow and unhurried. His hands explore your waist, your back, his fingers pressing into you like he never wants to let go.

But then, the sharp ring of his landline cuts through the moment. Chris groans in frustration, ignoring it in favor of deepening the kiss, but you pull back just enough to reach for the receiver, pressing it into his hand.

He glares at the phone like it personally offended him but sighs before answering. “Chris speaking.”

Even as he listens to the voice on the other end, his hands remain on you. One slides up your thigh, slipping beneath your skirt, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin. Your breath hitches when he teasingly brushes where you want him the most, his fingers graze the lacey fabric of your underwear and you grip his shoulders, trying to stay composed.

Chris smirks at your reaction but lets out another sigh before responding into the phone. “Yeah. I’ll be there in ten.”

With clear reluctance, he hangs up, his fingers still tracing circles on your thigh. “I guess work wins this round,” he mutters, his gaze flickering back to your lips.

You try to catch your breath, trying to ignore the way your body still aches for his touch. “You should go.”

Chris leans in one last time, stealing a lingering kiss before finally stepping back. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

And with the way he’s looking at you, you have no doubt that he will.

You smooth down your skirt, still trying to collect yourself as you slide off his desk. "And I should get back to work," you mumble, your voice not as steady as you'd like.

Chris watches you with an amused glint in his eyes, arms crossed over his chest like he’s enjoying the effect he has on you. As you turn toward the door, he calls out, “Oh, and by the way—”

You stop on your track and glance back at him.

His smirk deepens. “We’re testing the vanilla-flavored one tonight.”

Your breath catches, heat creeping up your neck at the implication. Chris simply grins, his gaze unwavering, and you quickly turn on your heel. As you walk out of his office, you swear you can still feel his smirk lingering in the air behind you.

-

The workday drags on longer than usual, but eventually, it’s time to leave. As you step into the elevator, exhausted yet content, the doors begin to close—until a hand slips between them at the last second.

Chris steps inside with his usual confidence, his presence filling the small space effortlessly. Dressed in his button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, he looks every bit the professional and the man who has spent countless nights unraveling you.

He glances at you, a smirk playing at his lips. “So,” he starts, leaning against the elevator wall, “are you ready to test the vanilla-flavored one tonight?”

He then eyes your bag and grins, his dimples sunken into his cheeks. “I know the condom is there. In your bag.”

Your body betrays you before you can even form a response—cheeks heating, heart skipping, breath catching. You hate how easily he can do this to you.

Chris tilts his head, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

You look away. “No.”

He chuckles. “Liar.”

Before you can defend yourself, he moves closer, his body inches from yours. His fingers brush against your wrist, then trail up your arm, setting every nerve alight. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower, “I really like it when you get flustered.”

And then his lips are on yours—warm, slow, and deliberate. The kind of kiss that makes time irrelevant, that makes you forget you’re still in the office elevator. You sigh into it, your body melting against him as his hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer.

The soft ding of the elevator chime startles you both. The doors glide open, revealing the lobby, and Chris pulls back just enough to look at you. His hand finds yours, fingers threading together, and with a knowing smile, he simply says—

“Let’s go home.”

-

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[rosenclaws]

Okay—don’t know if this fulfills the type of prompt you’re looking for but: Marie asking Logan to play Barbie’s with her. He somehow ends up wearing a princess crown

Babysitting || Worst!Logan x Reader

warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns are used and the reader is referred as mom

a/n: Man I just love writing Wolverine being a dad omfggg anyways I hope you enjoy!!!

"You promise you don't mind?"

You're rushing around your apartment trying to get ready for work. Just your luck you got called in for an emergency and your babysitter wasn't able to come on such short notice.

In the midst of your panic Logan knocked on your door like a knight in shining armor. Though this knight was caring an empty tupperware that you had given him leftovers in.

Logan had heard you talking to yourself in a panic. He tries not to eavesdrop but you were being louder than usual so being the good...uh boyfriend? Friend, Neighbor? You haven't really figured that part out yet.

Anyways being the good person that he is he came down to see what was wrong.

"I'm sure, she's a nice kid how hard can it be?" He says with a shrug and you resist the urge to scoff. He was doing you a huge favor afterall.

"Pick up is at 3pm, I'll be home by 6 and I'll grab dinner." You grab your bag and hurry out the door.

Logan glances at the clock. It's almost 3 so he better get a move on. Maries school was a short walk from the apartment. He can't but notice just how much he stands out among the other parents here for pick up and drop off.

He winces when he hears the shrieking laughter coming from the playground. Parents come and go, collecting their kids and listening to them talk about their day. He glances to the side and sees a little boy staring at him with wide eyes. In his hands was a wolverine figurine. Logan just smirks, putting his finger up to his lips telling the kid to keep quiet.

"Kitty!" Logan looks up to see Marie running towards him.

"Hey kid, your mom had to go to work so it's just me and you for a couple hours." He lifts Marie up into his arms.

Taking her backpack and slinging it onto his shoulder. The damn thing fit just a little too tight around his biceps and shoulders. As he walks home she rambles on about her day. Logan listens as she plays with the collar of his shirt.

"And then we wrote about our favorite animal and we got to draw it and Ms. K put all of our drawings on the wall."

"Yeah? What's your favorite animal?" Logan asks as he digs around for the key you gave him.

"Kitty cats!" Logan flinches as she practically shouts in his ear.

"Oh yeah? I couldn't tell." As he opens the door he sets her down, placing her stuff near the door as she goes running to her room.

Logan sits on the couch and stretches out, pick up is done so now he just has to make sure Marie doesn't die or get a tattoo or do anything stupid. As soon as he reaches for the remote he hears the little pitter of her feet.

She pokes her head around the wall and looks at Logan with those puppy dog eyes. He groans, knowing she was about to ask him something he won't be able to say no to.

"Will you play Barbie's with me? Mommy promised me she'd play today." She asks. Pulling two dolls from behind her back. Logan just sighs, putting his hands in his head.

"Wouldn't you rather color or something? Or we can watch that show with that annoying blue dog." He tries to bargain but Marie stands firm. She wants Barbie's. It's that or nothing. So Logan just nods his head.

"Okay fine. But only for an hour. Max."

An hour max his ass because Marie wouldn't let him leave. Every time he tried to end Barbie dress up her little eyes would fill with tears and Logan would quickly promise to keep playing. Just the threat of her tears was enough to make him fold. So here he is. At the will of a 6 year old.

"Logan? Marie? I'm home!" He hears your voice and your footsteps get closer.

"Mommy!" Marie yells.

"I brought pizza it's on the counter..." Your voice trails off as you appear in the doorway.

Marie runs past you straight to the bathroom to wash her hands before dinner. Logan is sitting on the ground, having broken the small wooden chair Marie insisted he sit on at firs. A plastic princess crown sits on his head and he has pink glitter nail polish messily painted onto his nails.

"Barbie tea party?" You ask, trying to hide your laughter.

"Yeah. You've raise a very manipulative child you know that?" Logan says as he stands up.

"All you have to do is say no Logan." You reach over and fix the crown so that it rested evenly on his head. His hair tuffs sticking out of the crown just above the fake jewels.

"Well she's very convincing." He hums.

Your hands fall back to your sides but you don't move from the doorway. Something about seeing him so willing to spend time with Marie, to entertain her silly games and even let her paint his nails.

It just means a lot. Logan...he didn't sign up for all of this but he's willingly brought himself into your life and you don't want him to leave. But is he here for Marie? Or would he stick around for you too?

"How do I look?" He asks, snapping you out of your question sprial.

"Huh?" You ask. He shrugs and crosses his arms, his biceps bulging out of his flannel shirt.

"You're staring at me sweetheart, thought I'd ask if you like what you see." He purrs.

Your eyes widen as he slowly backs you against the wall. Even with the pink nails and the plastic crown Logan was all consuming. There's just something so attractive about his paternal instincts.

"You look good." You squeak out.

"Just good?" He asks and you swear your brain starts to short circuit.

"Mommy! I'm hungry." Marie's voice makes Logan jump back, his cockiness fades away as he reaches up and takes the crown off.

"I'll be right there baby. Just go sit down." You say with a smile. You glance back at Logan for a moment, a beat of silence as you stare into each others eyes. Your heart is still racing. He gently places the crown on Marie's bed and walks past you to the kitchen.

"Fuck." You whisper. What was that?

You pretend like you weren't pressed up against the wall by Logan just moments ago and serve everyone a slice of pizza. You listen as Marie tells you about her day and playing with Logan. It's so utterly domestic. But soon Marie's bedtime comes around and it's time to say goodbye.

"Kitty can you pick me up from school tomorrow?" Marie asks sleepily.

"Oh baby Logan's very busy-"

"I don't mind" Logan cuts in.

"Gives me something to do during the day. As long as you don't mind." he adds on the last part quickly. Before you can answer Marie does it for you.

"Yes!" She squeals.

"Marie wait!" You call but she's already gone to her room.

"Are you sure Logan? I know it's a lot. That we can be a lot."

"Sweetheart, I like spending time with her, with you." Logan says softly.

He's really grown to care about Marie and you. A lot. More than he's willing to admit out loud right now. The two of you aren't a lot to Logan. In fact you're just what he needs. This normalcy and kindness. Being around the two of you makes him feel like he really can be more than the man he used to be.

"Okay, thank you Logan. You don't know how much everything you've done means to us." You place your hand on his arm, squeezing it gently.

"See you tomorrow sweetheart." He throws you a wink as he shuts the door.

He stays for just a moment. He hears your footsteps get farther away and he lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding. As he heads back to his apartment he starts to feel dread creeping up his throat. Who is he kidding? Can the Wolverine really go and play babysitter? He's not...he's not good for you or for Marie. But he cares about the two of you and he's too selfish to let you go now.

"How was your date with the hot mom downstairs?" Wade asks as Logan steps into the apartment.

"It wasn't a date I was just helping out." Logan mumbles as he opens the fridge and searches for a beer, only finding a root beer instead.

"Hey we listen and we don't judge. Everyone has a type. Yours just happens to be MILFS."

Logan shoots daggers at Wade as he pops off the top of the bottle.

"Shut the fuck up." A surge of jealousy hitting him like a truck at the idea of Wade even thinking of you like that. Wade just smirks, loving just how easy it is to push his buttons.

"Man you're just racking up those father figure roles aren't you Hugh." Wade sighs. Logan choose to ignore whatever nonsense Wade was spitting from his mouth and head right to bed.

Closing his eyes he just wonders how far he'll let himself sink into your lives. A small part of him hopes forever.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Leave Us in Ruins

Eddie x reader, Steve x reader

Your relationship with Eddie becoming rocky as you discuss your future and when he begins to just tolerate you, he ends up sending you right into the arms of the person he always worried about.

cw: mention of pregnancy, Eddie and reader argue, hurt/no comfort

This is very loosely based on “Tolerate it” by Taylor Swift as well as the All Too Well short film. Special thanks to @the-witty-pen-name for letting me yap and giving me feedback!

The bed dips when Eddie’s sits on the edge, maneuvering himself so that he’s under the covers with you, pulling you to his chest. You bury your nose in his wet hair, giving it a whiff because for whatever reason, your shampoo smells a lot better on him.

His arms wrap around your tightly, giving you a squeeze like he does every night. It’s part of your nightly routine and you expect it every time he crawls into bed with you. He then follows that with a kiss to your lips, telling you how much he loves you before the two of you fall asleep.

You’re whispering in the dark even though it’s late and you both have work in the morning. But this is your safe space where you can tell each other anything. Your deepest fears. Your darkest secrets. And you know that Eddie will never judge you because that’s just not who he is.

“God, I wanna marry you,” you whisper and the giggles that have been falling from Eddie’s lips quickly fizzle out into silence and he hopes you can’t hear how loudly he’s just gulped. This is the moment he’s feared for so long and now it’s here and he doesn’t know what to say.

Bile is progressively rising in his throat and his mouth is so dry that he’s sure that no amount of water will help. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous-well, maybe he does. The idea of marriage terrifies him. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you forever, because he does. He just doesn’t like thinking about standing in front of all of your friends and family in an itchy suit, vowing that he’ll love you until death do you part.

He doesn’t get why it’s such a big deal, why everyone wants to get married. You’re already together, why spend all that money and time just for a last name change and a couple of rings. You’re already as happy as can be so why make this big life change when it really won’t alter anything at all?

“You do?” He asks, trying to play it cool, but the man is sweating bullets. He can’t just tell you how he feels right here, right now. He can’t break your heart before bed, that would be cruel. And Eddie isn’t cruel.

“Yeah,” you say, snuggling into his chest and he doesn’t even have to look at you to know that you’re grinning. He takes a deep breath, trying his best to get the courage to tell you the truth. Should be easy enough. It’s just like ripping off a bandaid. Except this one is going to hurt so bad, the kind that pulls off the scab, leaving the wound open.

But he doesn’t tell you the truth. He just says “Let’s go to bed,” and turns out the lamp, leaving you in complete darkness, wondering if it was something you said. You’re blaming yourself, hating yourself for bringing something like that up with no warning and now you just wish you could go back in time and take it all back. You didn’t mean it. You were just so caught up in your love for him that you just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

But the longer you think about it, the more you realize that you didn’t actually do anything wrong. He was the one who fucked up in this situation. You told him how you felt and he just dismissed it, suggesting that you got to bed instead of acknowledging your feelings. He’s even gone as far as turning the opposite side and you didn’t even realize that he had let go of you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, the room feeling like it’s ten degrees colder and you’re freezing without his body to keep you warm. He’s slipping through your fingers and you don’t know what happened to make him behave so coldly towards you when not even ten minutes earlier, he was telling you that he loves you through fits of giggles. This is the first crack and eventually the entire thing is going to crumble into a million pieces, you can just tell.

“So you’re saying that you don’t want to marry me?” Eddie can see the tears in your eyes and it’s breaking his heart seeing you like that. You’re crying now and this isn’t one he can hug you through because this time, he’s the one that hurt you. He can’t kiss this one better and that’s what’s really fucking him up.

Something wet drops onto his shirt and it’s only then that he realizes that he’s crying too. He quickly wipes his tears then rushes to you to wipe your tears away too, but you step away, looking at him like he’s a stranger, because at this point, he is.

“It’s over, Eddie,” you tell him, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn away from him. This is it. It really is the end.

You’re getting further away and he’s running as fast as he can to get to you, but you eventually disappear into thin air. Eddie drops to his knees, sobs raking through him as he’s saying your name and the words “I’m sorry" over and over until they’ve lost all meaning.

Eddie wakes up in a cold sweat and lets out a sigh as he realizes that it was just a dream, he turns over in the bed to pull you to his chest, but your side of the bed is empty and cold. He hurries out of the bed and as he gets out of the room, he realizes that you’re just in the shower and he lets out a deep breath. So you really are still here and he didn’t fuck things up nearly as bad he thought he did.

He opens the bathroom door just as you’re turning off the water and as soon as he sees you, a wide grin breaks out on Eddie’s face, but yours stays the same. It’s weird, almost like he’s not even there at all. He reaches for the towel on the counter and hands it to you and you take it without a word. So you are mad. Message received.

You wrap the towel around your body then get out of the shower before pushing past Eddie to head to your room to get dressed for work. He follows you, completely understanding what’s going on, but he wants you to tell him so he can figure out how to fix it. In your two years together, you’ve never been this upset with him. But then again, he’s never been that much of an ass before so he supposes that he deserves it.

This is the quietest you’ve been since you’ve gotten together. There’s no sweet words shared between kisses and the worst part of it all is that you won’t even look at him. You just continue to get dressed like he’s not even in the room and with the way you’re treating him, he might as well not be. It’s so bad that you’re not even letting him pick out your shirt like you do every time he sleeps over.

“Did I do something?” Stupid question. He knows exactly what he did, he just doesn’t want to admit it. Because then he’ll realize that you’re anger is justified and then he has to accept just how badly he fucked up and he doesn’t to believe that he hurt you that badly.

“What?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “No, you didn’t do anything,” you shake your head, putting on a smile and Eddie lets out a sigh of relief.

“But you took a shower without me.”

“That’s because someone turned off my alarm and now I’m running late.” You’re putting your shoes on as quickly as possible before grabbing your jacket and heading out the door to your room in a blur.

He’s hot on your heels as he follows you into the living area of your apartment, standing there expectantly as you put on your jacket and grab your keys.

“Lock up when you leave, yeah?” You ask, then slip out the door, not even kissing him before you go. You always kiss him before you leave. Oh, you’re pissed.

You take a deep breath as you exit the building, trying to calm yourself down so you’re bringing your anger into work. But seriously, not even an apology or acknowledgment that he fucked up? You don’t know who that guy is, but he’s definitely not Eddie. Eddie would have gotten onto his knees and begged for forgiveness.

This just doesn’t make any sense to you. You thought you really knew him, but you guess that the two years you were together were just a load of shit. You really thought you wanteds the same things but now you’re realizing that you really don’t know Eddie at all. Now he’s just a stranger to you now that you know that he never actually did want to marry you. He’s progressively becoming the kind of man he’s always claimed to hate and you’re not entirely sure what to do about that.

-

The living room is quiet except for the tv that’s playing a show rerun softly. You and Steve are lying on the couch. Your shirt is pushed up and his hand is rubbing your now large baby bump, looking at it so lovingly that you feel like you could melt. He’s been nothing but a sweetheart throughout your entire pregnancy. He’s just been there to help, not even asking for anything in return.

“What about Olivia?” He suggests. You’ve been suggesting baby names back and forth and this is the first one that he’s given that’s actually had potential.

“Hm,” you say. “Olivia,” you repeat. “Olivia Robin. Oh, Steve, that’s perfect!”

You wrap your arms around him and give a tight hug, pulling him as close to your body as he can despite your bump being in the way. He hugs you back instantly, burying his face into your neck, taking a chance and pressing a kiss to it. He knows it’s risky, but he just can’t take it anymore. He’s gotta show you just how he feels about you after all these years.

You pull back to look at him, your gaze shifting to his lips and he’s realizing that you want this too. Well, to kiss him, at least. Your hand rests on his cheek and you both lean in slowly until your lips meet. It’s soft and sweet and everything Steve thought it would be. He can finally go to sleep tonight knowing what your lips feel like.

He feels fireworks in the pit of his stomach and for once, it’s like everything between the two of you makes sense to him. This just feels right and he hopes that this won’t just be a one time thing.

-

The kitchen is silent besides the sounds of you and Eddie doing dishes. Tension between the two of you is high and you’re both so in your own heads, so convinced that you’re both right that you can’t even see the other’s side.

You can still see the scene in your head so perfectly. You can still feel his hand setting yours back down on the table, silently telling you that he didn’t want to hold it like he always does.

And he doesn’t even understand why it hurt you so badly, trying to play it off like it was nothing when it was everything to you. He sees it as simply just not holding your hand in the moment, but to you, the small crack in your relationship has become even bigger to the point where it’s almost shattered like you’ve been fearing for months.

He’s turned on some music to try and lighten the mood and it’s clear that he doesn’t even get it. He doesn’t know that what he’s done was wrong. And you’re not going to spell it out for him this time. He’s gotta figure this shit out on his own.

He takes the dish that you’re washing from your hand and pulls you in for a dance like he always does when you do dishes together. And even if you were upset with him, you’d still join in, not wanting to let the whole thing ruin the moment, but not tonight. You’re staying strong.

He’s trying to spin you around, but you just glare at him, the anger bubbling inside you like a pot that’s about to boil over.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

“What’s wrong? Eddie, you dropped my hand.” Your voice is small now, almost as if you can’t believe what you’re saying.

“Oh, that,” he says, waving the whole thing off like it’s nothing. He honestly doesn't even know what you’re talking about, the moment that you clearly so vividly remember that Eddie has absolutely no recollection of.

“Yeah, that.”

“I just didn’t want to hold your hand. Why are you being so dramatic?” That’s the final straw. Dramatic? Oh, if he wants dramatic, you’re going to give it to him.

You slip your hands out of his and watch his face fall then screw up into offense.

“Not so fun now is it?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you cross your arms over your chest. “Why didn’t you want to hold my hand?”

“I don’t know, okay?” He asks, getting progressively more frustrated, just wishing that you’d drop it already. “I was just trying to have fun with my friends. Is that so wrong? I-I don’t know what the fuck you’re even talking about. You’re acting weird, y/n.”

“I’m not acting weird, you are. I mean, who the fuck even are you? Because the Eddie that I know would have held my hand the entire night and made sure to include me in his conversations, but you’re some stranger now so I guess I should lower my expectations.”

“What the fuck is going on with you? Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what? I’m upset by something that you did and now you’re trying to convince me that what I’m feeling is wrong.”

“You’re acting like a real bitch. God, it’s like I don’t even recognize you anymore. All you do now is complain about what I’m doing when you’re just setting your expectations of me too high.” The anger is building progressively and you can’t believe he’s trying to flip this on you. What have you done to Eddie except love him despite his flaws?

You only realize what you’ve done when you see Eddie press his hand against his cheek. It all happens so fast that you’re staring at each other in shock. Neither of you expected it, you least of all. You’re usually pretty good at keeping your cool, but hearing him call you a bitch filled you with a rage that you’ve only seen but never actually experienced until now.

With that, you turn on your heel, tears streaming down your cheeks, blurring your vision so that you can barely see when you run into Steve by the stairs.

You throw yourself into his arms, desperate for a shoulder to cry on. He’s been there for you your entire life, the one person who you can feel like you can go to for anything. He’s been so helpful these past few months as your relationship with Eddie has gone up in flames.

He holds you and runs his hands up and down your back the way he knows you like as he just lets you cry. He doesn’t think he should say anything right now. He already knows what happened and is sure that you just want a shoulder to cry on, no advice.

“Sorry, sorry,” you sniff as you pull away, grimacing when you see that you’ve gotten snot on his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “Do you want to crash on my couch tonight?” All you can do is nod and he takes his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders before leading you out the front door, making sure to shoot Eddie a glare who’s watching the both of you from the kitchen. Eddie flips him off then storms towards the front door and slams it as soon as the two of you are outside.

Fuck this, he thinks. You two deserve each other. Even though Steve is his friend and even introduced him to you, Eddie’s always been worried about him and you being alone together. He trusts you, but he’s always been scared that Steve’s going to make a move with him being in love with you and all. He’s always afraid that one little moment between the two of you is going to be the reason why you’ll break up with him and he knows he deserves it.

He’s been nothing but a dick, progressively pushing you away more and more as the months have gone on. He’ll get into bed long after you’re asleep and will be gone before you get up. It’s like he’s purposefully ignoring you and he can’t figure out why. It’s like he knows this isn’t working and he wants to ignore the inevitable as long as he can. He can’t lose you. He just can’t. But seeing you leave with Steve, his jacket draped over your shoulders, it makes him realize that he’s pushing you into someone else’s arms and he’s going to beat himself up about this for the rest of his life.

-

You’re asleep when Steve pulls up to his apartment building having cried basically the whole ride there. The whole situation with Eddie clearly took a toll on you so he decides to let you rest, picking you up as gently as he can as he carries you inside the lobby.

He’s staring down at you as you sleep and hates how much he desperately wants to be the one to do this every night. But he lost his chance and then was forced to watch you fall in love with his other best friend while he had been pining for you for the majority of his life. And he loves that you’re happy but he’s still wondering what it would be like to be yours. But he doesn’t want to get between the two of you so he just sits on the sidelines and watches the two of you fall even more madly in love with each other as the days go on.

And he feels so selfish for feeling that way but he can’t help it. He’s been in love with you his entire life and has watched you date all of those other people, not even considering him to be an option. And it breaks his heart even more every time. Why isn’t he good enough for you? What has he done to make you not see him in a romantic sense?

He shakes the thought and gets to his apartment, struggling to get the door open but when he finally gets it, he carries you straight to his room, trying so hard not to wake you up. He lays you down onto the bed and takes off your shoes before putting the blanket over you and turning off his lamp.

Once he’s sure that you’re settled, he heads back out to the living room and grabs a blanket before lying on the couch, his bed for the night. He then turns on the tv to have some background noise, tossing and turning the entire night like he always does. Steve doesn’t think that he’s ever had a good night’s sleep in his life so why does he think tonight will be any different?

-

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of coffee that wafts into the bedroom that you immediately recognize as Steve’s. Of course he would insist that you take the bed while he sleeps on the couch. That’s just the kind of guy he is.

You get up and realize that you’re still in your dress from the night before. You must have passed out before you could borrow some of Steve’s clothes. You pull back the blanket and head into the kitchen where Steve is at the table eating a bowl of the cereal you remember the two of you eating as kids.

You sit down across from him and take a deep breath, preparing to tell him what you had been mulling over for weeks, months even. It had to come to this eventually right? These past few months have been so rough and as much as you don’t want things to end, you know they have to. They can’t keep going on this way. It’s not good for you and it’s certainly not good for Eddie.

It was a long time coming, you think, as Steve pours you a cup of coffee, fixing it with just the right amount of cream and sugar. He knows you so well and it hurts so much that you thought Eddie did too. You really thought he wanted to build a life with you. But now all of the fantasies of the two of you at the altar and rocking cradles are all being packed up into boxes along with the Eddie you thought you knew.

You don’t even know who he is anymore. Now all he seems to care about is getting promoted at the record store where he works and doing gigs with his band. He’s not making time for you anymore, not even leaving space for you in his bed when you come over, lying directly in the middle. It’s almost like he’s purposely trying to cut you out of his life and it hurts even more knowing that you were the one who did all of that for him. You got him the job at the record store. You lined up all of those gigs for him and now it’s almost like he’s tolerating you.

“I’m breaking up with Eddie,” you tell Steve, almost too quickly, but you’re just trying to rip off the bandaid. The quicker the better. But as you rip it off, the wound starts to bleed, badly, so overwhelmed with the pain and the finality of your words that you just sit there, silently pleading Steve to respond.

He’s so shocked by your words that he ends up letting the coffee overflow and spill out onto the table. You’re quick to stand up and hurry to the sink to grab some paper towels and wet them before coming back to clean up the mess because he’s clearly too stunned to do so.

“You’re what?” He asks as he sits back down, trying to wrap his head around the whole thing. He knew you were going through a rough patch, but you didn’t think it was bad enough to warrant a breakup. God, this is going to kill Eddie.

“I’m breaking up with Eddie,” you repeat as you continue to wipe up the spill, more confidence in your voice this time. You say the words so nonchalantly as if you’re telling him what you’re going to order for lunch. This is big news and it’s almost like you don’t even care.

“I thought things were getting better.”

“Well, they’re not,” you huff, maybe scrubbing the table a little too hard and now Steve is concerned that you’re going to remove the finish. “You saw the way he treated me last night, Steve. I deserve better.” It’s so jarring having his own words thrown back in his face. He’s told you that so many times with other guys, but he never expected to hear it coming from you about Eddie of all people. This is all too much to take and now he suddenly feels the need to lie down.

He doesn’t know why it seems like he’s the one who’s being broken up with. Maybe it’s because in a way, he is. When it comes down to it, he’s eventually going to have to pick a side. And as much as he loves Eddie, you were there first. God, he feels like a child whose parents just told him that they’re getting divorced.

He’s already going over in his head about what he’s going to say to him, how he’s going to be there for you, how mad Eddie’s going to be. He doesn’t care about that, though. Steve was your friend first and the two of you are a package deal. Eddie knew that going into this.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. This fucking sucks. I-I really thought you were going to be together forever.”

“Me too,” you reply, feeling tears prick your eyes. Steve turns you to face him and wipes your tears with the pads of his thumbs before standing to pull you into his arms, rubbing your back sympathetically as he lets you cry into his chest. For the first time in years, it’s going to be the two of you and even though he should be happy, he just can’t be knowing that you’re so broken up about the whole thing.

-

Three minutes. Three minutes until you get your life altering results. You stand at the bathroom counter, breathing in and out deeply as you look at the little test in front of you. You stare at it, hoping that the results will show up sooner but you still have over two minutes left.

The anticipation is killing you and you’re not sure how you’re going to cope if it’s not what you want. You’ve always wanted kids; being a mother is something you’ve wanted to be your entire life and knowing that that tiny stick is holding your future is starting to make you sick.

The floor in the hallway creaks and you turn to your left and see Steve leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he gives you a wide smile. He then enters the bathroom and pulls your back to his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he rests his chin on your shoulder. He reaches towards the counter to turn the timer against the wall before lifting his head to smile at your reflection. It’s all teeth and it reminds you of his old school pictures, always smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt.

“You’re gonna be a mom,” he says, his tone nothing but loving.

“You don’t know that,” you roll your eyes. “It could be negative.” Steve laughs at that. You’ve been like this all morning, waiting for him to get home from work so he could be there when you took the test. There was no way he was missing this.

“I’m sorry, I’m just excited.” He has been looking forward to this probably more than you have. He’s wanted kids just as much as you have and now he’s going to have a chance to raise one with the woman he’s loved since he was six years old. He’s dreamed about this for years and can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.

“Well of course you are,” you turn around to glare at him. “You’re not the one who has to carry the thing for nine months.” You didn’t even think about getting pregnant this soon. You wanted to be settled down first, married, even. But one missed period later even after being so careful, your life is about to change one way or another. Even though you can’t even imagine having a baby right now, you keep thinking about how heartbroken you’ll be if it’s negative.

“No, but I can get one of those fake stomachs if that will make you feel any better.” Steve has been there with you through everything. As soon as you told him that you missed a period, he ran to the store and got you the best pregnancy test on the market, according to an employee he asked. And then he went to work at the bar before you could take it so here you are at five in the morning, not-so-patiently waiting for the results.

“I’m sorry, you’re being sweet. I’m just nervous. There’s so much riding on this and-” the timer goes off and it’s like everything is in slow motion. You turn to the text and cover your eyes before holding it out to Steve who has to put his glasses on to even see it. The gasp he lets out makes everything so obvious and you have to turn the test around to confirm that he’s not just fucking with you. But sure enough, there it is, the faint pink plus sign. The one you wanted so badly to see.

“Congratulations, mama!” Steve says as he picks you up and spins you around, giggles pouring from both of your mouths. This is it. You’re getting exactly what you wanted and you get to do it with your best friend. The only person you can imagine spending this next chapter of your life with. For the first time in years, you’re finally starting to feel like yourself and nothing, absolutely nothing can change that.

[arclic-stuff]

What's been missing

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

Synopsis: You and Lilia have been dating for a few months, but she has felt you becoming distant over the last week. She confronts you, and you open up about your issues with intimacy.

Warnings: smut(18+), sexual tension, teasing, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of bad past relationships and intimacy issues, praise, fingering, begging, cunnilingus, petnames?, sort of dirty talk?

Word count: 3.1k

Author's note: This is the product of burnout and loosely based on my own experiences, whoops. Also, my first time writing smut, in case you couldn't tell lol. I've read over it but honestly fuck it y'all will get the vibe regardless of typos. Feedback is welcome, hope you enjoy!

The harsh bathroom light hurts your eyes as you contemplate your next move. You and Lilia have been dating for a few months since you started tarot lessons with the witch. The two of you clicked and soon the friendship developed further into a relationship that feels so right. All was going well until tonights movie date.

Apart from the occasional make out, things hadn't progressed far on the intimacy side of your relationship. Due to bad experiences in the past, you're hesitant to get intimate with her in case it goes badly and scares her off. So when her hand began to creep up your leg during the movie, you panicked. And so, you've been sitting in the bathroom for the last 15 minutes thinking of what to do.

Knowing you can't hide forever, you head back to your living room towards the couch. Lilia smiles as you approach before looking back at the TV. You sit down next to her, trying to focus on the movie, but Lilia has other plans. Once again, her hand finds your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze as she moves higher. Of course, it feels nice, but you dont know what to do with the feelings, so you shift on the couch, moving to the far end of the couch. You feel Lilia's head turn, but you ignore it, hoping for the moment to pass. Lilia sits for a moment before reaching for the remote, turning off the film.

"(y/n) has something happened?" Lilia turns to face you, worry painted across her face as she prepares for the worst.

"No, I'm fine" You offer a weak smile hoping it is convincing but her face remains the same.

"No, you're not. Why are you pulling away from me? And I don't just mean tonight, this whole week you've been distant. If something's happened between us, I need to know."

Sometimes you forgot how observant Lilia is. You struggle to find the words to explain yourself, instead sitting in silence trying to string together a sentence. The silence is too much for Lilia to bare and so she stands up.

"I should go, I don't know what I've done but I'm sorry. Goodnight (y/n)" The older woman tries and fails to hide the wobble in her voice as she rushes to get her jacket. You rise to your feet to follow after her.

"No please don't go. You've done nothing wrong" You rush to stand between her and the door, reaching for her hand which she pulls away.

"Then why?" Lilia asks, looking at you for an explanation. Struggling to find the words, you grab her hand and pull her back into the living room to sit down on the couch, hoping the movement can give her time to think. The silence of the space mixed with Lilia's pleading eyes pulls the words out of your mouth before you can stop them. Closing your eyes, you explain your issues with intimacy from your last relationship, how you're terrified of going further with her in case you mess it up, but also at the same time how you yearn for her and didn't know how to communicate it without sounding crazy.

You open your eyes, bracing for her reaction, but instead she looks at you with nothing but understanding, "Thank you for telling me this. How are you feeling now?"

"Good, it's been hard keeping it to myself. It's so confusing, I want us to get closer, but it scares me" You fidget with your hands, moving slightly towards Lilia without realising, meanwhile she sits back on the couch.

"We can start small?" Lilia opens her arms to you, inviting you closer, and you accept. Lying in Lilia's arms feels like a reward for finally being open with her and yourself. You sink into her chest as her arms envelope you. Lilia hums as she feels you relax in her arms and starts rubbing your back absentmindedly, making you press into her more.

"We can go at whatever pace you need Dolcezza" Her hand continues on it's path drifitng up and down your spine, making you shudder with every movement, her other hand moves your hair out your face.

"We're in no rush, we can try things out together when you're ready" Lilia plants a gentle kiss on your temple, sighing. Something about how gentle she is being with you fills you with curiousity, urges you haven't allowed youself to dwell on resurfacing with every touch.

"What if I want to try things now" You blurt it out trying to hide you face from the woman.

"Oh? What kind of things?"

You shrug, making Lilia chuckle, "Well, we need some ideas first" 

The hand on your back drifts down towards your waist, making you shiver.

"Do you like being touched like this?" Lilia's voice sounds more suggestive, as if she is being affected just as much as you. You hum as she continues rubbing your back, every often moving back to your waist then hip, making you whimper slightly, but once again lilia notices.

"How did you ex touch you?"

"Not like this" 

"That's not what I asked baby, what did they do? What did you like or dislike? Its okay you can tell me" 

"They never did things like this, it was just sex"

"What do you mean just sex" 

"You know sex sex" 

"Honey do you mean no foreplay?" 

You look up confused, as if it's an alien concept.

"Oh my God that explains so much" 

"There's more to relationships than sex, sweetheart, of course that's nice, but being caressed, worshipped, loved, that's different"

You stare at her in shock, shock of how simple the issue had been. It wasn't the intimacy you had issues with, it was the lack of.

"Can you keep going please?"

Lilia smirks tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Of course love, like this?" Lilia continues to rub your back, going in long movements covering your shoulders, waist, hip bone, it makes you fall back into her arms, head in chest, hand gripping her upper arm as she runs her nails lightly down your spine.

"Is this okay?" She using her other hand to caress your face thumb rubbing your cheek. You nod before nuzzling into her neck again, shifting closer to her in the process.

"(Y/n), I need an answer" 

"Yes" 

"Do you want anything else?" You look away awkwardly, still unsure how to verbalise your thoughts, instead trying to avoid her eye. "Do you want me to stop?" 

"What? No dont" 

"Then what do you want? This is about you right now" Lilia pulls your head out her neck so her mouth is against your ear.

"I just want to make you feel good baby, what can I do?" 

Feeling her breath against your ear gives you new found confidence and without thinking you sit up and move to sit on her lap, straddling her thighs. Lilias eyes widen at the sudden action, keeping her hands at her side, not wanting to push you any further. You slump, fidgeting with your hands unsure what to do now the two of you are face to face. Lilia senses your nerves, moving to hold you hands, making you look up.

"What can I do?" She whispered. Trying to act on instinct, you move her hands to your hips, bottom lip between teeth.

"Show me what I've been missing" 

"Are you sure?" 

"Please, Lilia" 

"Come here then" She hums looking down at you lips. Slowly you lean forward and finally kiss Lilia. It's soft, gentle, quick like the ones you've shared before, but this time it isn't just a sign of affection. Lilia moves her hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. This one goes on for longer, and has more heat contained within. Lips moving against eachother, hands finding Lilia's shoulders and neck.

Lilia's hands are still glued to your body, squeezing your hipbone, advancing upwards but this time under the barrier of your shirt making you sigh into the kiss. Her hand goes further up then comes down quick, nails lightly scratching on the way done. The action makes you break the kiss, pulling back to gasp.

"You okay?" lilia says lips grazing your jaw.

"Yes.." 

"Yes? And?" 

"Yes and keep going please" You whimper gripping onto her shoulders as if it's the only thing stopping you from combusting

"How about we take this to the other room hm?" Lilia tilts her head to look up at you, hands running across your thighs. You nod eagerly, standing up, pulling her up with you. The two of you head for your bedroom, Lilia stops at the doorway, slipping off her shoes before entering after you.

It occurs to you suddenly that Lilias never been in your room before. You feel self-concious about the space, the cluttered bedside table, piles of clothes, and the work desk with your sketches and projects spread out across the surface. Lilia inquisitively looks around the room as she takes off her robe, folding it over your chair. Her eyes settle on the sketches looking at them with genuine interest.

"Are these the commissions you mentioned earlier?" Lilia glances at the open sketchbook infront of her, you come to stand beside her pointing out a seperate drawing.

"Those are just warm up doodles, this is the actual work, it's been a very interesting process actually," You go on to explain when you feel hands snake around your wasit, realising Lilia has moved to stand behind you, looking over your shoulder at the drawing.

"Continue please" she rests her chin on your shoulder listening to you try and continue with what you where saying. You do try to keep talking but Lilia starts kissing your shoulder, hands gliding across your stomach resting on your hips, pulling you in closer. Somehow, she manages to continue asking questions about your work, asking about the process, the inspiration, showing interest in your work aswell as your body.

You can only take so much. The questions, the attention, the compliments, it all makes you feel light headed and wound up. It makes you turn around and crash your lips against hers, starting to back her up towards the bed, pushing her down.

Lilia looks up with a smug smirk, perched up on her elbows watching you catch your breath, the eye contact makes you shiver and suddenly feel self-concious. She moves on the bed to create space for you to join her, which you do, lying down so you're both facing eachother.

"How are you feeling now?" Lilia whispers, hand reaching out to trace your arm and side. You reach out towards her pulling her up to lean on her elbow.

"Like I need you on top of me" You huff, trying to pull her, but she stays where she is, running a hand along your jaw.

"Are you sure (y/n)? I dont want to push you too much" Lilia pulls her hand away but you grab it before it goes too far.

"I know, but I want you to" You kiss her palm before taking one of her fingers into your mouth. As you slowly suck, you look up at her with pleading eyes. The actions make Lilia's jaw clench, eyes darkening. Realising it's working, you lie down on the pillows, laying your arms up, resting around it. Making Lilia chuckle, she sits up.

"This is quite the view" Lilia moves to sit infront of you, gently guiding your knees apart, shifting to hover above you. Having her this close in this position makes your breath hitch, bottom lip going between your teeth.

"Aw do I make your nervous baby?"

She kisses you, hips pressing down into yours, making you moan at the sensation. She continues kissing you, going to kiss your neck again. She moves the collar of your shirt to find new skin, making you start undoing the buttons of your shirt, she swats your hand away.

"That's my job, Dolcezza" She unbuttons your shirt before pushing it off your shoulders, runs hands up your side, stopping just under your bra, making your back arch.

"Absoluting stunning my love, may I?" Lilia hooks her finger under a bra strap, you node shifting to give her access to the clasp. Lilia takes it off tossing it across the room. Her lips meet yours again as she palms at your chest, making you whine into her mouth, legs tightening around her waist keeping her close.

You roll your hips, she sits back looking at the mess she's turned you into, topless, messy hair, love bites painted across your neck and chest, but what she loves the most is your expression, the heavy eyelids, gaze fulled with lust, pure relatation and arousal. This is exactly how she wanted you, sunken between pillows, relaxed, needy.

"You look so good like this," Lilia ghosts across your lips, pulling back when you lean in. She keeps you like this, right on the precipice of contact, she moves to drift along your neck, breath fanning over you as you shiver. She settles next to your ear as she whispers, "Do you like how I take care of you baby?"

You whine at the words, unable to speak. Lilia moves to face you again holding your chin so you can't look away.

"What else can I do " She cooes placing quick kisses on your lips, "Where do you want me?" You look down, gesturing to your core. Lilia follows your gaze but returns a faux puzzled face, "I don't know what you mean?"

"Yes you do Lilia!" You try to move her hand down but she pulls it away to graze your inner thigh, just off where you need her.

"I can't do anything until you tell me what to do, please baby I want to take care of you" The hand on your inner thigh tightens. Finally you snap out of frustration, hands covering your face as you give her what she wants.

"I need you to fuck me Lilia, please however you want" Your hands are pealed away from your face, Lilia's fingers lacing between yours. She takes in your dishevealed appearance, how you lean forward waiting for her next move.

"That's a good girl", you gasp at the petname and Lilia notices, leaning in to ghost over your lips, "Thats my good girl"

Her lips crash on yours with a new hunger behind them. Teeth clashing, tongues advancing into each other's mouths, making both of you moan at the new territory. Lilia's hand fidgets with the belt loops on your jeans, pulling you closer. Wanting to speed things along, you reach between your bodies, undoing the button and zipper. Before Lilia can fully pull away and make a quick remark, you pull her bottom lip between your teeth, making her shiver for the first time tonight.

She eagerly pulls your jeans and underwear off in one go, the cold air of the room finding your exposed skin, goosebumps covering in its wake. Lilia kisses you once more before moving down your body to rest between your legs. The vulnerability and anticipation battle within you, stuck between rolling your hips in her face and shutting your legs from her, which is met with hands gripping your inner thighs.

"None of that", Lilia looks up at you through heavy eyes as she starts kissing and sucking on the flesh adjacent to your core. Her hand rubs the other thigh, helping to soothe any anxieties you have as she continues her assault on your skin. You gasp when you feel her teeth sink in, imprinting a similar mark on your thigh to the ones decorating your neck and chest. The sting of the bite mixes with the heat in your core, making you feel dizzy, unable to imagine how it gets better than this.

That was when she ran her tongue up your folds. Slow and gentle at first as you adjusted to the feeling, applying more pressure with her tongue alternating between long strips and sucking on your clit, making you arch your back and grip the bedsheets benneth you. You feel yourself tense up, closing in around nothing, making you whine at the emptiness. You grab her shoulders, clawing her to come back up to you. Lilia looks at you with concern, which you quickly resolve with your next request.

"Your hand," you pant, guiding her hand down between you, "I need you inside me," you whisper against her smiling lips. She moves to hover above you again with her hand exploring your core. She keeps her eyes glued to you as she gathers wetness on her fingers, teasing your entrance with her middle fingertip.

"I don't think it's just my fingers you want" Lilia moves so her face is inches from you, filling your eyeline with nothing but her inquisitive face. "I think you just want all my attention. You want to be touched here," She punctuates the last word with two fingers slipping inside you, watching you moan, "but you want me up here too, kissing you, looking at you, talking to you. You're a bit greedy, aren't you?" She starts thrusting her fingers, rocking her hips into you as well. Your legs find her waist again, giving her a better angle to curl her fingers.

"I want to hear you say it baby, say you're greedy"

Your hands fly to her back, scratching into her shoulders, the knot in your stomach tightening as your knuckles turn white around her arms. "I'm greedy, oh god Lilia!" You nearly scream as she adds a third finger and increases the pace to a brutal speed.

"Good girl, you can come now go on baby" Her encouragements are all you need to go over the edge. The climax runs over you, clouding you mind, stilling your body as you gradually come back down to earth. When you open your eyes, Lilia is already heading for the bathroom where she washs her hands and gets a wash cloth. When she comes back, she cleans you up then pulls you back against her chest like how this started on the couch.

"You did so well Dolezza" Lilia runs her hands along your back, feeling you shift against her. You start moving your hand down her body towards her stomach. You go to touch her further but is stopped by her hand moving it back to rest on her chest.

"But I want to-" You start when Lilia kisses you tenderly. "I know you do, but this was about you. I got what I needed, now rest, please baby" She lays her head back against the headboard, smirking.

"And besides, we have plenty of time for that later"

[babsf1world]

FAULT LINE.

“So stay for the night, it’ll bury the crime.” — Your relationship ended, but neither of you seem to let go. It took you multiple nights to realize what’s it all about.

pairing. Lando Norris x fem! reader

warnings. angst, hurt/no comfort, mention of sexual activities, unhealthy ex relationship, Lando being dickhead and fuckboy, mention of cheating.

music. Siren Sounds by Tate Mcrae.

LN4 masterlist. // Main masterlist.

FROM THE START, you knew deep down that your relationship with Lando Norris was something of a modern tragedy, destined to unravel in chaos. There was an inevitability to it—a feeling you couldn't shake, no matter how many times you convinced yourself otherwise. Something about the two of you felt doomed, as if the universe itself had conspired to keep you apart.

How could he date someone like you? That question lingered in your mind more than you cared to admit, sowing tiny seeds of doubt that threatened to grow.

Everyone told you he was wrong for you. His party demeanor, his carefree lifestyle—none of it aligned with yours. You heard the whispers, the warnings, the concerned looks that came with every mention of his name. He wasn’t the type to settle down, they said. He wasn’t the type to treat you the way you deserved. But you didn’t want to believe them. You couldn’t, because to believe them would mean letting go of the image you had built of him in your mind.

For a while, you held onto hope, believing that perhaps your connection was different, special. You thought you saw sides of him that others didn’t, glimpses of vulnerability that he only showed to you. Maybe, just maybe, you could be the one to change him.

But hope has its limits, and reality eventually makes its way through even the most determined denial. At least you found out the truth—he cheated. The realization hit like a blow to the chest, knocking the wind out of you. You had seen the signs, of course. The late-night texts, the moments when he seemed distant, distracted. But you ignored them, telling yourself it was nothing, that he cared for you more than he let on.

When the truth came out, it shattered the fragile illusion you had been holding onto. You didn’t scream or cry, at least not in front of him. Instead, you stood there, numb, as he fumbled for excuses that you didn’t want to hear. The betrayal burned, the realization that you had ignored the warnings, pushed aside the doubts, only to end up here, heartbroken and questioning everything.

You knew from the beginning that it was destined to be a disaster. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

For the first time in your life, you had done something purely for yourself. You had walked away from the chaos, from the heartbreak, from Lando Norris. It was liberating, empowering even. You told yourself you were done, that you were moving on, that you deserved better. But then, as if he could sense your newfound strength, Lando started to pull you back in.

It began with the texts—short, simple messages that carried far more weight than they should have. “I miss you,” he’d write, and you’d stare at the screen, torn between deleting the message and replying. Then came the calls, his voice on the other end of the line, soft and familiar, stirring emotions you thought you had buried. Sometimes, those calls ended with him at your doorstep, his presence filling the space you had tried so hard to make your own.

Even though you told yourself you were far from over him, the truth was undeniable. You loved him. Part of you hated him, too, for the pain he had caused, for the betrayal that had shattered your trust. But you couldn’t let him go. No matter how much you tried, no matter how many times you told yourself it was over, he had a hold on you that you couldn’t break.

If he wanted to be a casual fling, a “fuckbuddy,” as you bitterly called it in your mind, you’d let him. Because the thought of losing him again was unbearable. You’d rather have him in fragments than not at all. It was a tragic compromise, one that left you feeling hollow and conflicted, but it was the only way you knew how to keep him in your life.

Every time he came over, you told yourself it would be the last. You’d let him in, share a moment of intimacy, and then promise yourself you’d end it. But when he looked at you with those unforgettable eyes, when he smiled that devastating smile, all your resolve crumbled. He was your weakness, your addiction, and no matter how much you hated yourself for it, you couldn’t walk away.

“I have to go,” Lando said abruptly, his voice cutting through the stillness of the room. He was already moving, quickly getting up from the bed and gathering his clothes from the floor in a hurried, almost frantic manner. You lay there, still trying to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling as you watched him. The sight was all too familiar—him leaving, always leaving.

“Like always,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes as you sat up and began to pull on your clothes. The words were laced with bitterness, but you didn’t bother to hide it. Why should you? This wasn’t the first time, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. He was always in a rush, always somewhere else to be, someone else to see.

There was no aftercare, no lingering moments of tenderness, no asking how you were doing. Nothing. It was as if the sex you just had evaporated the moment he decided it was time to leave. The bed still carried the warmth of his presence, but the room already felt colder, emptier.

You glanced at him as he pulled his shirt over his head, his movements quick and efficient, like he was checking off a task on a to-do list. He didn’t even look at you, didn’t notice the way your expression hardened, the way your hands trembled slightly as you buttoned your shirt.

This was the pattern, the routine you had come to expect. And yet, every time it happened, it stung just as much as the first. You told yourself you were fine with it, that you didn’t need more from him, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t true. You wanted more—more than hurried goodbyes and empty promises, more than being just another pitstop on his endless journey.

You followed him to the kitchen, your feet moving before your mind could decide why. There he was, standing by the counter, tossing his keys in his hand as if he couldn’t wait to leave. “See you later. I love you,” he said casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Every word of that sentence landed like a question in your head. See you later? Absolutely not. And I love you? Did he even mean it, or was it just something he said out of habit? It made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite put into words.

“Yeah, of course,” you snapped, cutting him off mid-departure. The edge in your voice was unmistakable, sharp enough to make him stop in his tracks. His hand froze on the doorknob, and he turned to face you, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping closer, his voice softer now.

You crossed your arms, the tension in your body rising with every step he took toward you. Oh, so now he cares? you thought bitterly. It was ironic, really. When he was cold, distant, disappearing without a second thought, it was fine. He didn’t ask how you felt, didn’t stay long enough to notice. But now, when you mirrored that same detachment, it wasn’t okay. Now, he wanted answers.

“Nothing,” you shrugged casually, your tone as indifferent as you could muster. Right, nothing was wrong. Why was he even asking that? The question felt hollow, almost laughable, given the circumstances. You turned away slightly, avoiding his gaze, as if the act of looking at him might unravel the fragile composure you were clinging to.

“You know I love you,” he said, his voice soft but insistent, as though repeating the words would make them true. But for you, they were far from the truth. You didn’t know it. How could you? Love wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like a constant tug-of-war between hope and heartbreak, between wanting more and settling for less.

“You say that only because we fuck,” you reminded him, your voice sharp and cutting. The words hung heavy in the air, a brutal truth you couldn’t hold back any longer. You knew why he said those words, why he threw them out so casually. They weren’t rooted in love; they were a reflex, a way to keep you tethered to him. And you hated that you let them work.

He looked confused, his brows furrowing as he tried to process your accusation. “That’s not true,” he started, but his voice faltered, lacking conviction. You could see the cracks in his confidence, the way your words had shaken him. For once, he didn’t have a quick comeback, didn’t know how to charm his way out of the situation.

“That is true, Lando,” you said, your laugh tinged with sarcasm, the bitterness slipping through despite your best efforts to mask it. You wished—no, you longed—for his visits to be driven by love, by something deeper, something real. But you knew better. You knew why he was here, and it wasn’t for the reasons you wanted.

“You’re here only because you’re horny,” you sighed, the words heavy with resignation. You crossed your arms, trying to steady yourself, to stand your ground even as your heart wavered. The truth was out now, hanging in the air between you like a storm cloud. You watched his expression shift, the faint flicker of confusion crossing his face.

“And if you don’t remember,” you added, your voice firmer now, “we are broken up.” The words felt like a shield, a reminder to yourself as much as to him. You weren’t supposed to be doing this, letting him back into your life, into your bed, into your heart. But here you were, caught in the same cycle, trying desperately to break free.

Lando paused, his hand still resting on the edge of the counter. His brows furrowed slightly, as if he were trying to process what you had just said. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his tone defensive, almost incredulous. It was as though the idea of his intentions being questioned had never even crossed his mind.

You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Don’t act like you don’t know,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less resolute. “You come here, you say the things you think I want to hear, and then you leave. It’s always the same.”

For some reason, he was quiet now. Maybe because, for once, you were telling the truth he couldn’t deny. The silence stretched, thick and oppressive, and it only fueled your frustration. “Oh my god, Lando!” you shouted, your voice breaking the stillness as you threw your hands in the air. “Why don���t you even try to defend yourself a bit?” Your words came out sharp and raw, laced with the bitterness of all the times he had made you feel small, unseen.

He flinched at your outburst, his gaze dropping to the floor, but his lips remained sealed for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke. “I love you, Y/n, but it’s just not that simple.” His voice was low, almost pleading, as though he expected those words to be enough to fix the shattered pieces between you.

But they weren’t. Not anymore. You were done being nice, done bending over backward in desperation to keep something alive that was slowly killing you inside. You were done clinging to empty words and hollow promises. “Can you stop lying, Lando?” you shot back, your tone venomous, toxic in its delivery. “Can you stop lying for at least a second in your damn life?”

His head snapped up, his expression shifting between confusion and hurt. “I’m not lying,” he said quietly, but you didn’t believe him. Not a single word. His declarations of love felt cheap, as fleeting as the visits where he left you feeling more broken than before.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for what you were about to say. The words came unfiltered, raw, and unrestrained. “I’m done,” you said, your voice firm and unwavering. “I’m done with this shit. I’m done with you.” The weight of your declaration hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, you felt a sense of clarity, as though the fog of confusion and heartbreak had finally lifted.

“What do you mean?” Lando asked, his expression shifting to one of disbelief. It was almost comical, the way he looked at you now, as if he didn’t understand English anymore. His confusion only fueled your anger, the fire burning hotter with every second he stood there, pretending not to know.

“Get off of my fucking eyes, that’s what I mean,” you snapped, your voice sharp and cutting. You wouldn’t beg again, wouldn’t plead for him to stay or try to fix what was already broken beyond repair. You were done being the one who cared more, who tried harder, who sacrificed everything for someone who gave so little in return. “You ruined everything,” you added, the words spilling out like a final blow.

“But I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, his tone soft, almost pleading. No way. Was he joking now? The audacity of his words made your blood boil. How could he stand there, after everything he had done, and say something so utterly meaningless?

“You should have thought of that before you cheated, asshole,” you shot back, your voice dripping with venom. The truth was out now, and there was no taking it back. You weren’t holding anything in anymore, weren’t sugarcoating your pain to make him feel better. He deserved to hear it, every word, every ounce of anger and betrayal you had bottled up for far too long.

“Get out,” you said, your voice firm and steady as you pointed at the door. The finality in your tone echoed in the room, leaving no space for negotiation. Lando froze, his hand still resting by his side, as his eyes locked onto yours one last time. Those green eyes—piercing, unforgettable, the ones that had once undone you every time—met your gaze, pleading silently for a chance. But this time, you felt none of the pull that had always kept you tethered to him. This time, you resisted.

“No, just let me explain—” he began, his voice desperate, his words rushed as if he could fix everything if he only spoke fast enough. But you wouldn’t let him. You wouldn’t let him use his excuses or empty promises to worm his way back into your life.

“Get out before I call the police,” you interrupted, your voice cutting through his plea like a knife. Your words carried an unmistakable edge, final and unyielding, daring him to challenge you. You stood your ground, your hand still pointing toward the door, your expression resolute. You weren’t going to beg anymore, nor would you let yourself fall for his attempts to salvage what was already irreparably broken.

Lando hesitated, his expression shifting from desperation to something unreadable. For a moment, it seemed as though he might protest, try one more time to explain, to reason with you. But the weight of your command—the realization that you wouldn’t bend this time—settled over him, and he finally relented. Without another word, he turned away, his movements stiff and mechanical, like he was forcing himself to leave.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the room, marking his departure with a harsh finality. You stood still for a moment, staring at the empty space where he had been, your chest tight with a mixture of relief and lingering pain. You had done it—made him leave, chosen yourself for once. But the victory felt bittersweet, as if closing this chapter had come at a cost you weren’t yet ready to fully comprehend.

The room was quiet now, but the silence felt different. It wasn’t suffocating, wasn’t filled with the tension of unspoken words. It was lighter, freer, and for the first time, you felt like you could breathe. You exhaled slowly, letting the weight of him, of everything he had put you through, begin to slip away.

You were alone now, but it didn’t feel like a loss. It felt like the start of something new—something that was yours, something that didn’t revolve around him anymore.

[himbo-kuto]

ceo!sylus x secretary!reader  summary: what happens you you become sylus' trusted secretary?

a/n: tried to make this one longer to make up for the shortness of the first part 😅 if y'all want to be tagged when these come out, let me know! i also slightly fudged the schedule than the one laid out in the first part-- apologies for the confusion!

part one | two

with freshly washed hair and a well moisturized face, you sat in bed and looked at your phone, 10:00pm. 

you had been thinking all day about whether or not you were going to take this position, and you still came up at a crossroads. 

you looked around at the tablet the twins gave you along with the briefing papers, that were all spread out around your bed. ever since you got home you’ve been flipping through these papers in order to see what it is like working for world renowned ceo, sylus qin. 

he had affairs in all different countries, making a multitude of deals with hundreds of other rich ceos– you wondered how he even had time for himself.

you unlocked the tablet to look at his schedule for tomorrow and he barely had time to breathe. starting his day at 5:00am boxing for an hour, breakfast, the day's briefing, and then meetings back to back all until 7:00pm. even then he still had work to do on his computer. 

you didn’t know who to feel bad for– sylus because he’s the one who’s participating in all of this, or you who had to stick by his side till the very end. 

a groan left your lips as you fell back on your bed, looking up at your white ceiling. 

“why not just try it? it’s not like if you fail that you’ll be fired from the company… but then you’ll look like the idiot who couldn’t do it… but then maybe people would understand since he was known to be a hard ass..” the angel and the devil were definitely arguing on your shoulders. you tried to wave them off, hoping that would subdue your thoughts but sometime in the middle of your deliberations, your mind drifted off to sleep.

you jolted awake to an alarm you didn’t even remember setting and looked at the time, 3:30am. 

you groggily looked around your room to still see that you truly passed out in the middle of thinking. papers still amiss, the tablet’s black screen reflecting your tired eyes. 

“well.. might as well go for it.” and go you did. 

you gathered up all your things before plunging into your morning routine

you gave yourself a once over in the mirror by your door, making sure your outfit was both comfortable yet professional. you didn’t know what he had in store for you, so best to be prepared for anything and everything. 

“if you decide you want the job, luke and i will be waiting downstairs by your place at 4:30am. we’ll take you to boss’s house. just know we won't wait long."

and lo and behold, there was a sleek black car waiting for you promptly at 4:30am by your apartment. 

at first you awkwardly waved at the car, not being able to see inside due to its tinted windows. 

the window soon rolled down and there were luke and kieran giving you some big smiles. 

“happy first day!” “we hope you make it!” 

well that’s promising. you got into the car and they zoomed off onto the city streets. 

you watched the lights go swiftly past your window as you went over a bridge. this was nice. luke and kieran were respectful, quiet and for the most part, they minded their business. 

“do you have any questions for us before we get to the house?” 

you found that whoever took these notes was very thorough yet concise at the same time. everything was laid out exactly how you should do it and how sylus wanted it. 

you shook your head, nothing coming to mind… well.. maybe one. 

“...what’s he like?” you paused before looking into the rearview mirror. 

“i’ve only ever seen our ceo for what? maybe max, 10 seconds?” 

they both laughed at that. 

“well as you can tell, boss man doesn’t exactly enjoy appearing to the public. only when business demands it does he show his face. otherwise he just likes to keep to himself.” 

“he’s also pretty simple. he’s the type of person that once he likes something, he sticks to it. rarely does he change his ways. if anything that makes him very consistent.” 

you nodded along, genuinely interested in what they had to say. you knew nothing of the man on top, but because of one single event, here were you in one of his cars being escorted to his house.

“how long have you guys been working with mr.qin?” 

luke wrapped his fingers around his chin, stroking it gently as if in thought. 

“honestly for as long as we can remember, we’ve been working for boss. he got us out of a pretty nasty situation way back when and ever since then we’ve been by his side.”

“like he said, he’s kicked us to the curb many times, but that didn’t stop us.” 

you softly smiled at the sentiment. you could only imagine what his face would’ve looked like seeing the two of them showing up to his doorstep after many attempts to shake them. in the midst of their attempts, he grew fond of them. 

“i’ll keep all those things in mind. thank you.” 

you looked out the window to see just how big sylus’ estate was. a gated off property that went deep into the woods, but once you reached the main property, the landscaped opened up to a beautiful dark mid century modern home. 

“everything you need will be in the kitchen. boss has already started his day, but he’ll promptly be up at 6:00am to eat so try and be on time. he doesn’t like when his schedule is disrupted.” 

you nodded, now finding a new wave of confidence. you wanted to put your best foot forward and if in the end it doesn’t work, at least you can say you gave it your all. 

the twins led you through the house to get started before disappearing to only god knows where. you looked at the notes again, following them as closely as you could while still keeping time. 

you fixed the last bowl on the table, as you glanced at your watch. 5:59am. perfect timing. you put your hands to your hips, feeling proud of the spread. with seconds to spare, you pulled out your phone and took a quick picture to remember your first day by. 

and like the twins said, as the clock striked 6:00am, sylus had emerged to the kitchen in his boxing gear (which wasn’t much) a tight fitting tank top and some five inch inseam shorts. 

you felt your face get hot seeing so much of his skin for the first time. 

“ahem, good morning mr. qin. i hope breakfast is to your liking.” 

he took a second, wrapping his towel and his neck before looking at you and then to the food on the table. 

“please join me.” he gestured to the seat beside him as he began to eat his meal. 

you sat down, grabbing the tablet under your arm before briefing him on his day. 

famous last words, but the beginning of your day was actually going very smoothly. sylus promptly finished breakfast by 6:30, leaving him enough time to get ready. 

you finished the last of your duties up in the kitchen before heading over to the garage. luke and kieran would be the ones to take you to work. 

“impressive. i’ve seen a lot of other secretaries much worse than you at this part of the day.”

“oh? well i guess i’m flattered. make sure to tell me that at the end of the day too even if it may not be true.” you all shared a laugh as sylus came from the hallway.

“didn’t expect everyone to be getting along so well. shall we?”

the car ride was much like the one in the morning, quiet but not entirely awkward. you flipped through his schedule for the next couple of hours, trying to commit it to memory. 

“who’s going to be in this meeting at 9:00am?” without delay, you read off the attendees. 

“then after?” again, quick answer. 

sylus let out a pleased hum, which the twins picked up on. they gave each other a knowing glance before going back to their business. 

“and what would you like for lunch mr.qin?” 

“mm.. you decide.” 

you pressed your lips together in a thin line now having to wrack your brain on what to get your ceo for lunch. you knew much of his dislikes, but not many of his likes. this would be your undoing, you just knew it. 

kieran pulled into an entrance that you weren’t familiar with to get into the building. you didn’t notice but your eyebrows furrowed together which made sylus chuckle ever so slightly. 

“it’s a private entrance. only me, the boys and now you have access to. here,” he held out a shiny black titanium card out to you. 

“your new keycard. you’ll find that you have access to more doors with this. don’t lose it. i won’t be giving you another one.” 

“understood.” you graciously took the card, replacing your old white keycard with this one (you already knew all the stickers you were going to put on this).

and from there, your official work day started. 

many, if not all the people in these meetings disregarded you as ‘just another one of sylus qin’s secretaries who will most likely be gone within the week’ as he introduced you and that pissed you off. you could just feel the 💢 emanating off your forehead. 

but you made sure to give them all a firm handshake while looking them in the eye. this would not be the last time they’d be seeing you. 

there was finally a short 20 minute break in between his meeting in which you used to order lunch. you sat at your new desk, looking through all the restaurants and cafes you and your co-workers had eaten for lunch– and suddenly it felt like you've never eaten at any of these places. 

you let out a big sigh just as luke walked by. 

“tired already?” 

you stuck your tongue out at him before gesturing to your tablet. 

“i’m just trying to figure out what to get everyone for lunch and i just want to get it right.” 

“wow, you’re really torn up about this huh?” 

if only you knew luke just a little bit longer, you definitely would’ve strangled him by now. 

“just use your best judgement. that’s why the boss chose you after all.” 

“didn’t you guys choose me based on my qualifications?”

he laughed at that. 

“everybody here is qualified to do the job, otherwise they wouldn’t be working at this company. but he picked you and that should be the equivalent of a lifetime achievement award.” 

now it was your turn to laugh. that did make you feel a lot better. 

“thanks, luke. i’ll be sure to get you something extra yummy.” 

turns out lunch was a hit– there was a cafe you always frequented during your lunch break and you knew the food was delicious so you hoped they would too. 

as you took sylus’ plate from his desk, you reminded him of the phone call he has in 20 minutes. 

“thank you, that was delicious. good choice.” 

you felt yourself bloom with pride at his compliment, but you quickly stopped yourself. (i can’t laugh yet, i have to hold it in)

“also cancel the rest of my meetings after 5:00pm” 

“oh sure– should I give them a reason why?”

“tell them i’m taking my secretary out for dinner after work.”

[merrybloomwrites]

A Livestream Love Story

Summary: Your story with Spencer, as told in a series of livestreams.

Word Count: 3.1K

AN: I got 2 requests (request 1, request 2) that had to do with livestreams, and decided to do a story much like my "Podcast Love Story" oneshot. Hope you enjoy!

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Rocking Out In Guitar Hero 

“Are we live?” Spencer says as the livestream officially starts broadcasting. 

“It’s live,” Brennen answers from behind the camera. 

“Wait, actually right now?” Spencer asks. 

“Yes, right now,” Brennen confirms. 

“Wow, that was too chill,” Spencer says before launching into an explanation about today's livestream. He and Courtney will be playing Guitar Hero, and they’ve managed to upload some of their favorite songs to play. 

For the next half hour, they show off their skills for all the people watching. 

You’ve been busy filming another show and happen to end early, meaning you can pop in and watch them stream for a little while. You try not to be spotted, not wanting to interrupt of course, but also not wanting anyone to see the way you swoon over Spencer. 

The crush you’ve been harboring on him since you started working at Smosh has only continued to grow. Keeping it hidden has been getting more difficult, and peaking in to watch him now is probably a bad idea. 

Because for some reason, him absolutely effortlessly shredding on Guitar Hero is way more attractive than it has any right to be. You try not to stare too much, but the way his fingers move so dexterously on the keys has you feeling some sort of way. 

Of course you can’t hide for long, and soon enough Courtney is calling you over to join them. 

“Y/N, were you a guitar hero girlie?” Spencer asks. 

“Well I played a lot as a kid but it’s been awhile. Might be rusty,” you answer.  

“Give it a go,” Spencer says. He stands, shifting and brushing up against you in the small space. Trying not to blush at the contact you sit in his now empty chair and Courtney passes you the guitar. 

You scroll through the songs, reading comments from the chat as you try to find one you want to play. 

Seeing a comment about how well Spencer is playing, you say, “I feel like people don’t know how good of a guitar player you really are.”

“You actually do play guitar,” He says, leading you to reply, “Yea but you actually play guitar too!”

Courtney smiles watching the two of you compliment each other, then gets surprised when you hand her the controller asking her to pick a song for you. 

After finally settling on “That’s What You Get” by Paramore you put it on medium, not wanting to embarrass yourself by failing on hard mode. 

You begin to play, chatting with the others as you do and you’re pleasantly surprised by how well you do. You’re especially happy when Spencer compliments you at the end. 

Though you try it head out once you’re done, but Courtney encourages you to stay for one more song. You watch as Spencer plays “Five Nights at Freddy’s”. Since it’s one of the songs they uploaded, it only has one difficulty: extreme. 

That’s no problem for Spencer, as he begins to shred on this toy guitar, barely missing any notes. You dance around, covering up how badly you want to just stare at his hands as he plays. 

Once it’s done you compliment him another time before thanking them for having you on and leaving the stream. You have a meeting starting soon, but you detour to the bathroom for a minute. You take some deep breaths, splash a little water on your face, and tell yourself to get your feelings under control. 

We Stream Resident Evil 8 For The First Time

You’re not entirely sure how you got roped into this. Well, you kind of knew, but it all happened so fast! 

You weren’t supposed to be on this livestream. It was meant to be Spencer playing with Amanda and Angela watching, just like in the recorded series. 

But Angela came down with a stomach bug, and here you are, filling in for her. You’re not a big fan of these games, the jump scares and freaky characters really creeping you out. Which of course is the reason you got picked. Because they knew you’d have big reactions which makes for good entertainment. 

So while you don’t love these games, you confirm you’re on board when Spencer checks in with you right before streaming. 

The three of you get set up, you next to Spencer with Amanda behind the two of you. Before you know it, the stream begins, and Spencer starts explaining everything to the audience. 

It’s only a minute later that he starts the game, and the first jump scare occurs. You and Amanda both yell at him to get away from the monster, and he tells you guys that it’s a cutscene and he has no control yet. 

“Oh, Y/N, you should close your eyes,” Spencer says. “You won’t like this part.” 

Choosing to trust him, you shut your eyes until he says it’s safe to open. You’d heard Amanda shout out but couldn’t tell exactly what had happened. 

“Spencer just killed a pig!” She says when you turn to her, confused. 

“I had to! I needed to get food,” he says to defend himself. 

You’re glad that he’d warned you, since seeing that play out definitely would have upset you. 

As the stream continues, you start to get more into it, asking questions and even giving out some helpful ideas. 

There are a couple parts that make you anxious, and as though he can sense this, Spencer leans his leg against yours. It’s hidden beneath the desk, ensuring no one will see, and that simple connection helps you stay relaxed. 

At one point Spencer pauses, saying that he has a headache and is suddenly not feeling well. He asks for water and you don’t hesitate to grab yours to share with him, truly worried by him suddenly acting like this. But a moment later Alex hands him a bottle of water, and Spencer sprays some of it on his hand.

You and Amanda both shout out, realizing that this was just a bit, since the character is always healing himself by spraying water on his hand.

“We were worried about you!” Amanda yells at him.

He just laughs, and you roll your eyes fondly, admitting that he did a good job at fooling the two of you. It’s nearing the end of the stream, so he unpauses and plays a little longer.

Just before you hit the three hour mark, there’s one final jumpscare. It startles you so badly that you nearly tip your chair over and fall. Amanda quickly steadies the chair while Spencer reaches out to grab your arm.

It’s clear you’re flustered when you sit back up, and you hope people will assume it’s because you nearly fell, and not because of how it felt to have Spencer’s hand on you.

After the stream is over, Spencer thanks you for filling in at the last minute. And just like that, the three hours of anxiety and elevated heart rates is worth it.

Seriously Super Stupid Sleepover: Charity Livestream 

“Welcome to the Seriously Super Stupid Sleepover!” Ian shouts as the livestream officially starts. 

“For the first time ever, we are doing a 24 hour charity stream,” Anthony says. “This is for a cause near and dear to us, and we want to start by saying we appreciate every dollar you all donate over the next day.”

“We have lots of activities planned, and various guests will be joining us, so get ready!” Ian adds.

You’re sitting in the conference room with some of your coworkers, watching the start of the stream. Since it’s going from noon on Friday until noon on Saturday, you’ve all been given a schedule of the times you’re set to appear on screen.

It’s been a big undertaking planning for this, but you know it will be worth it. Not only is it for a good cause, but there’s the added bonus of everyone getting the following Monday and Tuesday off. 

You’re not actually appearing on screen until that evening, but once you’re on, you’re there for a while. You know you should try and squeeze a nap in at some point in the afternoon, but you know that you’re likely going to be too excited to manage that.

You watch as the squad kicks off the stream with a classic TNTL, followed by George Primavera leading some of the Games crew in a new tabletop RPG. This together fills the first couple of hours, and you decide to head back to your desk to continue doing some work there. 

“Hey, Y/N, dinner’s ready in the conference room,” Kiana says, bringing you back to reality. You’d gotten lost in your writing, and it was a surprise how much time had passed. You grab something to eat, and by the time you’re done, it’s past 7pm. No time to take a nap now, since you’re due to stream in less than an hour. So of course, you make yourself a latte using the new fancy machine in the kitchen, and drink it as you get yourself ready to appear live. 

The first show you’re appearing on is Beopardy. It’s one of your favorites, since you love trivia, and it gets your energy up for the night. You get a quick break while some pre-recorded content plays, and then you’re back on for Angela’s funeral roast. Due to the number of people involved, this one takes quite a while, and by the time that session is done, it’s already 10PM, and you’ve been on screen for nearly 3 straight hours. 

You get a short break while Anthony does an interview with Mac. During that time, the rest of you change into pajamas for the overnight portion of the stream. 

Now dressed in your starry pajama pants and oversized Smosh crewneck sweatshirt, you wander into the kitchen looking for a quick snack. 

Spencer notices when you walk in, and he gives you a smile as well as a package of your favorite cookies. You thank him with a shy smile of your own, and the two of you chat for a few minutes. 

You haven’t seen him for a while. He’d been on the stream early and had a break, during which he managed to squeeze in a nap. But now he’s back, joining you, Olivia, Courtney, and Noah for some classic sleepover games. 

You start with the awkward dance party, and then do the Urban Dictionary Challenge, where one of you reads out a term from urban dictionary and the rest have to guess the definition. 

As it nears midnight, you all settle on the couches for a couple of Jackbox games. Due to the late hour, it’s no surprise that the answers you all give grow sillier and sillier. 

In the very early hours of the morning, you find yourself on the couch, Spencer on one side, Amanda on the other. There are a few other people on chairs throughout the room, and you’re all set to play Geoguesser. 

Half of your group is very clearly hopped up on caffeine, especially Angela, while the other half is starting to fade with sleepiness. You fall into the second category. It’s especially hard to stay awake since this game doesn’t need too much input from you. 

Amanda notices your eyelids getting heavy and drops a blanket in your lap. You bring your legs up on the couch, curling them under you and wrap yourself in the blanket. Within seconds you’re cozy enough to fall asleep, but you fight off the drowsiness. Luckily, you recognize the next location to pop up, and it re-energizes you for a second as you lead the others to find the right place on the map. 

But that energy doesn’t last long, and soon your eyes start to droop shut again. Not realizing what you’re doing, you shift to get comfortable, your head resting on Spencer’s shoulder. The rest of the group notices that you’re asleep, and while they make a couple jokes about it, no one tries to bother you and wake you up. 

You stay like that for the next twenty minutes as they finish playing the game. Occasionally you’ll move and snuggle closer to Spencer, and he does his best to hide the pleased smiles that your actions cause. It’s clear to anyone paying attention how soft he truly is for you.

When the segment ends another pre-recorded commercial airs, giving you all some time to exit the set. 

Spencer gently nudges you until he sees your eyes blink open. You’re confused, then embarrassed, but overall, what you feel most is tired. 

“C’mon, let’s get you to the lounge, they’ve got beds set up,” he says. Spencer then wraps his arms around you, helping you stand and guiding you to one of the free air mattresses. You’re both quiet, not wanting to wake anyone who’s already asleep. 

You lay down and Spencer tucks the blanket around you, saying a soft goodnight before finding a mattress of his own. 

A few hours later you wake up, still groggy but at least somewhat rested. Looking around you see a few people still sleeping, so you tiptoe out of the room. 

You get dressed and freshen up, knowing you’ll be appearing in the stream one more time. All cast is expected to participate for the last hour, making sure to close out the stream with a bang. 

There are a few people hanging in the conference room so you grab some breakfast and join them. You stay there for a bit, and a minute before you’re going to head back to the set, Spencer walks in. 

Suddenly, memories of the night before enter your brain, and you realize what had happened. What you’d done. 

You’d fallen asleep, on the live, with your head on Spencer’s shoulder. 

And you’re now mortified. Spencer gives you a soft smile, but you don’t have a chance to talk to him since you need to get back to the stream. 

One last commercial break airs, allowing you all to get set up. When you’re live again, everyone starts to banter, talking about the last day. You’re happy to hear that you weren’t the only one to fall asleep in front of everyone, though it seems you were the only one who used a coworker as a pillow. 

Finally, it’s time for Anthony and Ian to wrap everything up. They thank the audience for all the kind donations, and suddenly, the stream is over. 

A couple crew members who weren’t working overnight are set to drive everyone home, so that no one drives while sleep deprived. Which means you don’t get a chance to talk to Spencer before leaving, as you don’t want to hold up the other people in your car. 

Then comes the long weekend. Which is lovely and a nice, well appreciated break. But you can’t stop thinking about what happened Thursday night. You’ve already seen the moment clipped and giffed online, people clearly starting to ship the two of you. 

Even after days of thinking of what to say, you still avoid Spencer when you do get back to work. You’re embarrassed by your actions, and afraid of what he might think of you. But at the end of the day, Spencer asks you to talk, and you take a deep breath, knowing you can’t avoid this any longer.

The two of you sit in an empty office, and it’s quiet for a moment. You bite the bullet and break the silence, saying, “Sorry for passing out on you the other night.”

Spencer shifts in his seat, and you hate that you’ve clearly made him uncomfortable. But then his answer is something you never would have expected. 

“Truthfully, I didn’t mind. I uhm, it was nice. I liked that you were close to me,” he says. You notice the way he looks down as he says it, the slight pink on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. 

“Really?” you ask and he nods, his confirmation giving you the confidence to admit, “I liked it too.”

“You did?”

“I did. I mean, I know I was asleep but I’ve seen some of the gifs and it just makes me happy.”

Spencer takes a deep breath and says, “Y/N, do you want to go on a date? With me?”

You’re surprised by the question, but quickly steady yourself enough to answer, “I would like that.”

And just like that, a moment you thought would forever embarrass you has instead led to the happiest outcome. 

Teaching Y/N Fortnight

It’s been a few months since the charity livestream and the subsequent start of your and Spencer’s relationship. You haven’t exactly gone public with it, but you haven’t kept it a total secret either. Fans have started to speculate, and you guys are okay with that.

You’re just not ready to make it publicly official yet.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and you’re once again getting ready to do a livestream, this time one where Spencer will be teaching you to play Fortnight. 

He gives you a quick kiss before you both settle in for the stream, and it causes you to smile, as his shows of affection always do.

Making sure to be professional, you turn to the camera as Alex gives you the warning that the livestream is about to begin. Spencer does the intro, then gets into teaching you all of the controls and objectives of the game. 

A few minutes in, there’s a slight issue that leads to Spencer having to leave the room to fix something, while Alex sits at the computer to solve the problem on that end. 

While this is happening you’re trying to keep the viewers entertained, making jokes and telling some stories that you hope they’ll find interesting. 

“You know, I have to admit something,” you say.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Alex questions.

“I’ve played Fortnight before. Not enough to be good! But like, I kind of already know all the basic stuff.”

“So why let Spencer explain it all?” Alex asks.

“He just gets so excited to teach! It’s cute,” you explain.

And yea, you know the fans will be freaking out with that moment. And this being a livestream, you get to see those comments in real time.

Once the tech problem is solved, Spencer comes back and sees the way chat is freaking out, and asks what happened. Without hesitation, the viewers immediately tell him your admission, leading to him pretending like his pride has been ruined. 

But when he sees why you kept the secret from him, he can’t help but melt a little inside.

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AN: Thank you for reading, and thank you to those who sent in the requests that made this happen!

[akawifeyy]

cologne | fic (OP81)

description: wanting to prank your boyfriend, oscar piastri, you decide to spritz some cologne on yourself.

tropes: prank, established relationship

face claim: none

trigger warnings: mentions of cheating, suggestive content, swearing

| note: it’s a bit late but i wrote this in honor of oscar’s CHINESE GP WIN 😮‍💨 my icon and legend

It was just half an hour before your boyfriend, Oscar Piastri, would arrive home from yet another grueling day of testing. The papaya McLaren he loved so much was sapping up all his energy, and you wished you could get the old Oscar back. You had the perfect idea — the two of you loved to prank each other, so maybe this would be the way to go?

Standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom, you held the clear glass cologne bottle in your hand. It was your father’s, definitely not familiar enough for instant detection, but distinctly masculine.

You took a deep breath and gently sprayed, letting the smell waft over you. Eyes watering, you set it down, adjusting your shirt and plastering on an innocent expression.

Later, Oscar stumbled through the door, his eyes bleary with exhaustion. His muscles bunched with stress, but he looked at you just as lovingly as he did the first time he met you.

“Hello, darling,” he murmured. “I missed you.”

He pulled you in for a hug, arms cocooning you in his blissful warmth and comfort. A moment passed, and you felt him tense. Oscar pulled back, worry lining his face. “Y/N…What’s that smell?” He sniffed you again, confused. “Baby, I’m so — why do you smell like cologne?”

You cocked your head to the side. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You twirled around, walking into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water. “I think you’re too sleep deprived.”

“No,” Oscar said, following behind you determinedly. “I swear…”

You rolled your eyes.

“Did you go somewhere? Was someone with you in the house?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “If there was, you can tell me. I won’t be mad. I just want the truth.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of the cool liquid and letting it settle in your stomach before responding. “No one was here.”

“Y/N, if you’re seeing someone, I’d like to know.”

You froze. “I’m not seeing anyone, Oscar. Jeez.”

“You smell like another man’s cologne, you’ve been home alone while I’ve been away, and you’re really trying to gaslight me? I’m sorry, but I think I deserve to be a little concerned.” Oscar crossed his arms, staring at you with a cold expression. “I’m working hard to provide us with a life, and you could be sneaking around, with someone else? It hurts, Y/N.”

You scoffed, hackles rising. “So you’re calling me a slut? Saying that I’m lying? Fuck you, Oscar.”

“Woah, Y/N, I never said that,” Oscar shot back, voice edged with tension. You knew he hated arguments. “I’m just worried.”

“I’m not fucking another man.” You stormed away from him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Oscar.”

“Then why do you smell like another man?”

You threw your hands up in the air. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough of an answer.” Oscar rubbed his hand across his face, clearly fed up. “I want to believe you, but…”

Incapable of keeping the prank going, because you knew doing so was the wrong thing to do, you huffed. “It was a prank.”

Oscar’s mouth opened as he processed what you had said. “Pardon me, darling?”

“It’s my father’s cologne.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, baby. I’m sorry for yelling at you, and accusing you of things you didn’t do.” Oscar stepped close to you, kissing you on your forehead. “I just love you, is all, and I thought… I thought maybe you didn’t love me anymore. That I wasn’t enough.”

You pouted. “You’re perfect, Oscar.”

“Sure.” He kissed you again, his hand resting on your jaw. “I really hope you think so.”

“I know so.”

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[blossomarlia]

hi! i loved your drabble about james x reader after the party, it was so cute :) if requests are open, could i please ask for fem!reader who has a tricky relationship with her parents, and maybe she and james go for lunch or something aand it goes badly? just like him comforting her and telling her she's not in the wrong if that makes sense. no pressure!

hi, hope this is sort of what you wanted!

james potter x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of poor relationship with family, especially mother

Driving with James is almost never quiet. He’s always got something to say, or you have, or the two of you are listening to one of several CDs Remus burned your favourite songs into. James insists that you’re in the passenger seat, so you can choose the music more easily, so you can talk with your hands the way you do, so you can doze off after work. You once drove six hours together and it passed like thirty minutes, your conversation was so easy. 

Now, you stare out the window and pretend you haven’t been wiping away tears for the fifteen minutes since he pulled out of your family’s driveway. For his part, you don’t think James has noticed your upset; he’s been gripping the steering wheel with both hands and breathing so evenly that it must be intentional, clearly lost in his own thoughts. You hate this tension, hate that the discomfort and hurt of lunch has infested spaces beyond the dining table of your childhood home. 

It’s absurd, in hindsight, that you were so hopeful. You don’t know why it keeps happening, why you let it. You’d thought maybe with James there, with any stranger but especially one so bright and warm, they’d hold back. You were wrong. 

Things began pleasantly enough; after stressing about timing, you’d arrived ten minutes early and brought an apple pie James had helped you make this morning. Your mother enjoys reminding you that guests don’t get invited back if they don’t show how grateful they are for an invitation with some sort of gift. You wonder why it matters to you that being re-invited to your family home is so important, but it is. Even just as a guest. 

You’d helped in the kitchen while your father watched television. James tried to help, too, but was turned away. You’d felt the air shift as soon as you were alone with your mother. 

It’s nothing against you, not in the slightest! Only, young men like that aren’t often in it for the long term with girls like you.

You’d frowned, pretended not to know what she meant. It was only the same thing she’d said about both other boys you’d brought home.

You’re a nice girl, but what can you truly offer him? He’s good-looking, wealthy family, and you said he plays rugby? Sweetheart, you never want to be with somebody because they’re settling. That’s just my opinion.

The meal itself was worse. Despite your pleas, your family remarked on James’ family, their standing and their properties and how your father felt about James’ mother’s charity. Everything was said perfectly pleasantly, but you were humiliated. When it came time to criticise your shortcomings, you couldn’t muster a single protest, eager to redirect their scrutiny of your boyfriend to their usual commentary on you. Your hair, your clothing, your weight, your job, your flat- it didn’t end, not until you’d helped your mother wash up and James made a stiff excuse about needing to be back in London by five o’clock. 

You know you must’ve let him down terribly. With your friends, you’re never the type to take anything lying down, more sure of yourself and able to let banter slide off you like water. You feel as if you’ve tricked James, somehow, now that he’s seen the way you truly are: silent, unable to stand up for yourself. You’re embarrassed of yourself more than your family. Humiliated worse than you’ve ever been.

You sniff, and it must be the first James notices of your tears because he pulls over to the emergency lane immediately. “Oh, my girl,” He leans across the center console and gives you as nice of a hug as he can from a somewhat awkward position. 

“Sorry,” You say, crying properly now. It’s harder to hold back when you see the worry on his lovely features. “Sorry, I’m overreacting.”

“Not at all, angel,” He says immediately. He rubs his hands firmly up and down your sides. “I’m sorry, I should’ve paid more attention to how upset you are. They were horrible to you.”

“They were just-” You begin, but the excuse doesn’t come. You’re sure you had one ready to go, some explanation or justification for today. “I don’t think they’re trying to be hurtful. They’re my family, I love them.”

“I don’t care what they were trying to do,” James frowns, “It was awful, the way they spoke to you. I wish I’d said something more.”

You shake your head, feeling panic seizing your lungs even after you’ve left the house. During the meal, you’d felt nauseous the minute James spoke up- he’d only said that’s not fair over some half-true comment your mother made, but your heart seized as if he’d thrown a dish of food at her.

“No, it- I didn’t want it to become an argument. I asked you not to.”

More kindly than you feel you deserve, James doesn’t comment on your half-panicked texts to him under the lunch table. You hate the knowledge that they’ll exist there forever, that the next time he opens your contact he’ll be reminded of how feeble you’ve been. 

“Are they always that way?”

“I don’t know,” You sniff again, swiping under your nose. “I think- I think sometimes they’re better, but I don’t know. I wish I’d stood up for myself more when I was younger.”

“None of this is your fault,” James is quick to assure you. “It wasn’t your job to do that, they shouldn’t- I don’t understand how anyone can be so cruel to you. You’re so easy to be kind to.”

“They aren’t cruel, they’re just-”

“They are,” He insists, sympathy and regret lining his face. “I wish you’d stop accepting it, sweetheart.”

It stings, and James sees your reaction but you jump in before he can elaborate; “I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for myself. It must’ve been disappointing.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and when you glance up he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. You feel terrible- you know James didn’t mean it that way, and you’ve been unfair. He sighs. “I’m disappointed by the situation, not by you. Never by you. I hate that this is so normal for you, my darling, that’s all.”

He’s so lovely that you cry again, and James rubs your back as you do. He’s a dream; you’d imagined as a younger person that all the awful stress and pressure of your family meant you’d someday meet someone perfectly gentle and kind, and subsequently hated yourself for creating such an unlikely fairytale. You didn’t believe in people like James until you met and loved him, didn’t think you were the sort of person who attracted them. 

“We don’t need to visit them again,” James tells you quietly when you’ve calmed down a bit. “I don’t want you to think you have an obligation to them; if it doesn’t make you happy to be there, we’ll make excuses. Blame me- say I have chronic food poisoning, or something.”

“I think that’s called an allergy, Jamie,” You sniff, holding one of his hands in both of yours. You stare at the lines of his palm, though you can’t remember what each one is supposed to mean. “I-I want to be a good daughter.”

“You are a good daughter, better than they deserve,” He says. “But you’re the only person you’re going to spend your entire life with, the only one you really have to be around every day. It’s okay to put yourself first.”

“I can’t just never see them again.”

“No, I know that. That’s alright.” He swipes his thumbs gently over the soft skin under your eyes. “Just give yourself a break, yeah?” You take a shaky breath, nodding. “I love you.”

“And I love you, angel,” He smiles warmly. “As do many, many other people. My parents won’t stop hassling me about when I’m next bringing you over.”

You laugh wetly, more pleased than you want to reveal. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’re the only person who can rival Dad’s croquet skills, and he needs humbling.” You both laugh, now, and James cups your face in both hands as he kisses you. “My brave girl,” He says, still so close you feel the shape of the sentence against your skin. “I hope you know how loved you are.”

You don’t respond; you aren’t sure what you can say, and James understands either way. He threads his fingers through yours and squeezes as he moves back to sit in his seat. He doesn’t let go of your hand the whole way home.

[mossyscavern]

Transformers g1 skits… another round of megatron being the A+ parent

_________________________

Sparkplug:

Sparkplug: … *sighs* ok-, why are you here?

Megatron: why the frag did you say ‘don’t call me that’ in front of your child?!

Sparkplug: oh, you heard that… I was forced to say it. No thanks to you!

Megatron: fragging-. Dr arkeville!!! I need you to reprogram those stupid brain chips of yours! And if you say otherwise I swear-. *voice fades away*

Sparkplug:

Sparkplug, internally: … what just happened?

———

Optimus: megatron has gone too far.

Bumblebee: when doesn’t he go too far, just last week he shot a bouquet out of his canon.

Optimus: … you’re right, you know your father/mother than anyone.

Spike: I just hope- wait what?! Megatron’s your mom/dad?!!

Bumblebee: … scrap, I knew I forgot to do something.

———

Soundwave: megatron: we have a situation.

Megatron: *sighs* if it’s starscream again. What’s he planing this time?

Soundwave: starscream: plans on destroying one of the autobot soldiers.

Megatron: then we wait it out. Like we normally do… it’ll fail anyways.

Soundwave:

Soundwave, just ruined starscream’s career: autobot: he plans on destroying is the heir to-.

Megatron: *already gone and approaching starscream’s location*

———

*sparkling bumblebee au*

Megatron, holding his son: to primus I prey, that you’ll grow into a mighty warrior! As powerful as I am!

*two cybertronian years later*

Megatron: hey, primus.. remember when I preyed that he’ll grow into a mighty warrior? I take it back. Keep him like this.

———

Optimus: we’re sorry for not telling you sooner.

Ironhide: yeah, I know your in shock and all but just note, bumblebees still a friend-

Spike: guys, I’m not mad I’m just surprised… thinking about it now? It makes sense.

Ironhide: … how does it make sense?

Spike: ironhide… most of the shots fired by megatron himself have missed bumblebee. On purpose. He doesn’t normally do that unless his aim is bad as starscreams… which is unlikely.

Ironhide: … son of a glitch that actually makes sense.

———

Megatron: he won’t even let it go until I brought him along to give shockwave the data pad.

Soundwave: query: did you use the look?

Megatron: not really… his pout was cute what about you human?

Sparkplug:

Sparkplug: … bumblebee’s yours-?! Wait.. you’re both parents?!

Soundwave: affirmative.

Megatron: I’m a proud mom/dad… bumblebee said it best.

———

Brawn: … sooo, how does that work?

Bumblebee: how does what work?

Brawn: how is a sweet bot like yourself with the biggest and loyalist spark of gold, be related to a warlord with the amount of bloodlust as unicron?

Bumblebee: *shrugs* … out of all the bots I expected to be surprised… you’re the most calmest about this.

Brawn: honestly? I feel way too numb to say anything about it.. I’d probably scream it when going into recharge.

———

Starscream, bleeding out in a family guy death pose:

Thundercracker: starscream! What happened?!

Starscream: I uh… found out that the yellow bug is his heir. I thought I found his weakness… turns out that little scraplet is his fragging strength. How?!

Thundercracker: when it comes to the heir of the decepticons. Stamina is one pit of a drug, screamer.

Starscream: … YOU KNEW?!?!!?

_________________________

Sorry for the wait… I got really busy-.

I’m a little tired but I’ll be alright, I’m unsure if this’ll be my last of g1 or not *shrugs* oh well, not the end of it anyways… I’ll circle back whenever I get inspired the best I can.

Also, starscream finally knows… soo that’s gonna be another shenanigan with starscream trying to be the leader and failing… 50 times more than usual.

[bloomzone]

block num 6 | 100 Building Blocks for a Better You

Dreaming is the First Step to Achieving Anything

Have you ever told someone about your dream, only to hear them say, “Work first and see if you can achieve it”? It’s frustrating cuz to you that dream is already alive in your mind. You can see it, feel it, and imagine yourself in that future. But to others especially parents or practical-minded people dreams don’t seem as important as the work itself.

But dreaming is the first step to doing anything in life.

People often think dreaming is just about imagining things and doing nothing. Like it’s some kind of fairy tale in your head. But that’s not true at all. Dreaming is a tool, a mindset, a vision that pushes you to take action.

When you have a dream, it’s like you have a GPS guiding you. Imagine wanting to travel to a beautiful place. If you don’t know where you’re going, how will you take the right roads? You might just wander around, wasting time, and feeling lost. But if you have a destination a dream then every step you take will have meaning.

If you dream of being a doctor, an artist, a writer, or anything else, your dream itself will push you bro like when you wake up tired and don’t feel like studying, your dream will remind you: “I need to study because this is my goal.” That’s why people who dream from the heart who truly want something will always find a way to work hard for it.

The reason some people struggle with motivation is that they are only thinking about work, not the dream behind it. Imagine two students studying late at night. One is studying just because they “have to.” The other is studying because they dream of being a successful lawyer or a writer . Who do you think will push through the exhaustion and keep going?ya the one with a dream.

When you truly want something, no excuse is stronger than your desire.

If you’re too tired? You’ll remember why you started and keep going.

If someone tells you it’s impossible? You’ll believe in yourself because you’ve already seen the vision in your head.

If things get hard? You’ll remind yourself that every challenge is a step closer to your dream.

I can say most parents come from a generation where “realistic” thinking was the priority. They don’t always understand the power of dreaming because they were raised to focus on survival and practicality. They think, “Work first, then dream later,” but that’s backward. u need to dream first. That dream gives you direction, motivation, and the emotional strength to push forward. Without it, work feels meaningless.

This is why so many adults end up in jobs they don’t even like. They never dared to dream. They just worked, hoping life would somehow feel fulfilling later. But fulfillment comes from chasing something you love, not just doing what’s safe.

Some of the most successful people in the world had dreams that seemed impossible.

Oprah Winfrey was told she wasn’t fit for television. Now she’s one of the most powerful women in media.

Walt Disney was once fired for “lacking creativity.” Today, his name is synonymous with imagination and success.

Albert Einstein was called a bad student. Now his name is literally used as a synonym for genius.

None of them would have achieved anything if they hadn’t dared to dream first.

So, if you have a dream HOLD onto it. Even if people don’t understand, even if they doubt you, even if the path seems unclear. Your dream is your light in the dark, your fuel when you’re exhausted, and your reason to keep going.

If you want to be a doctor, an artist, a writer, an entrepreneur whaaaaaatever it is let your dream be bigger than your fears.

Because once you have a dream there is nauuur way you won’t get up and fight for it.

@bloomzone

[channieschocco]

Since when did you become so romantic? ~ Chan

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: A bookstore date with Chan!

Warnings: Kissing

A little writer's note: I took a poll on which skz member you wanted my next oneshot to be for, and you voted Chan! This was so fun to write! I think it is so cute and it fits Channie perfectly. Enjoy the Powerless and Shatter Me referances, fellow readers<3

-

A quiet knock on your door made you quickly place the rest of your things—phone, wallet, hairbrush—into your purse and shove your shoes onto your feet. You hastily opened the door to reveal Chan, looking as handsome as ever with a bouquet of tulips and baby’s breath wrapped in a light pink sheet of tissue paper. 

Tonight was your very first date with him.

You wore a simple black pleated skirt over black tights, a cream colored sweater and a black bow in your hair. The shoes you had just hastily placed on your feet were small black boots over white socks. You felt every bit the Pinterest girl and this date was sure to be worthy of the app. 

“Hi.” Chan shyly held out the flowers for you and you gently lifted them into your arms, smiling from ear to ear. “I didn’t know what your favorite flowers were, so I just ended up picking the prettiest ones. I hope you like them.” He nervously ruffled a hand through his hair, making your heart melt. 

“Chan, I’d love anything you got me. Thank you, truly!” You replied with a laugh and took his hand in yours. “We might as well get going.” Chris’s cheeks were now dusted with pink and his hand was delicate when intertwined with yours. The two of you got in his car and drove away from your place, the both of you eager to begin the activities that you had planned for tonight. 

You had been talking with Chan for about a month, and he had decided last week that it was about time for your first date. After finding out that you were a huge reader, Chan immediately offered to take you to the bookstore and a cafe down the road for your first date. You had been counting down the days, the hours, the minutes until you got to spend time with someone you cared for in a place you loved.

“We’re here!” Chan exclaimed happily as you pulled into the bookstore’s parking lot. He exited the car, but not before telling you to wait inside. He jogged over to your side and opened your door for you, letting you out in the most gentlemanly way possible. You took his hand and led him to the store, the reader inside you wanting to skip excitedly. Chan pulled open the door of the bookstore for you and let you walk through first.

All of the books had clearly been recently restocked and the whole store seemed to be empty for the two of you. It was quiet, save for the lofi beats that almost inaudibly played over the store’s speakers. You always went shopping for books in the evening or at night since the store was always so quiet, yet this time it felt even more magical since someone you truly cared about was there with you.

You led Chan over to the romance section (your favorite) and pointed out some of your favorite books that you’ve read now that you could finally show off your obsession. Chan picked up a copy of Shatter Me off the shelf,  flipped open to a random page and began to read. His curls fell  messily on his brow and he bit his lip in concentration while reading.

Chan flipped to the next page and gasped, scandalized, hand on his chest dramatically. “You didn’t tell me Aaron Warner was blonde!” 

You fought to keep from bursting out laughing in the middle of the quiet bookstore and clamped a hand over your mouth. “What color did you think his hair was?” you asked.

“Would you be mad if I said brown?” Chan winced and shut his eyes. 

“Maybe just a little,” you replied. “I think the entire reading community might come after you, though.”

“Readers are ferocious.” Chan sighed, exasperated and put Shatter Me back on the shelf. 

He’s not wrong, you thought to yourself. You browsed the shelves for a book to examine and you found one you had never seen before. The hardcover was a limited edition and it had red details brushed into the spine. You began to read while leaning on the shelf behind you. You can always rely on a reader to use a bookstore as if it were a free public library!

You tore your eyes off of the book when you felt like you were being watched. Chan stood a few feet away, staring at you as you read. “Can I help you?” you asked, smirking at him. A flush crept up his neck and bloomed across his cheeks. 

“Sorry, you’re just so breathtaking when you read.” He ran a hand through his hair. 

“Since when did you become so romantic?” you teased him.

“It’s gotta be all of these romance books. It seems they’re getting to me!” Chan laughed nervously. 

“How about we find you a book then we get going,” you suggested, taking his hand and pulling him towards some other shelves. You channeled your inner reader and selected a book for Chan. Powerless. “Here, try this one.”

He flipped open to the middle of the book and you watched as his eyes widened. “This Kai Azer character has supreme eloquence. I could learn a thing or two from this guy!” Chan leaned against the shelf and looked up at you, book in hand. “I may be a monster, but if you cut me, I’ll bleed. And if you break my heart, Y/N, you’ll break me. So, if even a sliver of your soul longs for mine, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve it.”

You had a feeling that he had chosen that quote for a reason. “Chan, you hold my soul in the palm of your hand,” you grin. “And you do deserve it. Every sliver of it.”

“And you, mine.” Chan replied, a sad smile upon his face. 

The two of you made your way over to the checkout and bought the two books you had selected. You couldn’t wait to rant to Chan about Powerless before Fearless released. You needed to talk to someone about the book!

Nobody spoke as you walked down the street to the cafe. The place was set to close in about twenty minutes, so the two of you hurried inside. You picked a table in the middle of the room and waited for someone to come over and take your order. 

The cafe had hardwood floors which made little creaking noises as you walked and couches in each corner of the room. The tables were made of wood as well, but the chairs you and Chan sat in were made from metal. There was a large assortment of teas and coffees and treats behind the counter and just like the bookstore, aesthetic beats sounded over the speaker. There were two other people in the cafe studying on laptops and moving back and forth between papers and books. 

“You know, sometimes I come here to work on my music,” Chan muttered. “It’s such a cool ambiance to work in.”

The whole cafe smelled like sweets and coffee which made you want to order something asap. The waiter came over to your table and introduced themself. Chan ordered a caramel macchiato and you ordered a french hot chocolate, since you wanted to be able to sleep tonight. (Unlike some people, *cough cough, Chan*) The two of you also asked for a plate of caramel cookies to go with everything.

The cookies and hot chocolate were both heavenly on your tongue. The sweet and salty flavours melted together, creating a power combination. 

The cafe was about to close, so you shoved one last cookie in your mouth and paid at the counter with Chan. The two of you exited the small place and began to walk back to the parking lot to drive home. A soft snow began to fall, making the pavement on the sidewalk turn a sheer white. Chan placed his jacket on your shoulders and you hugged it close. 

You stopped in your tracks and tried to catch a snowflake on your tongue. The other little flakes caught in your hair, making you giggle.

“You’re cute,” Chan said.

“I know,” you replied, tongue sticking out. You caught a flake after another moment and lowered your head, shutting your mouth. Chan pulled your body towards him by your arm and took your face in his fingers. 

“And very beautiful.” He placed a hand on your back, pulling you even closer. “And I really want to kiss you.”

Your breath hitched. Instead of replying, you pulled him close, your lips meeting his in a slow, passionate kiss. The snow fell slowly around the two of you and there were no other people or cars on the street since it was so late. You could feel the love he wanted to express with words but couldn’t. You felt only him. 

Chris drove you home and walked you up to your apartment, wanting to make sure you were safe and gave you one last lingering kiss. “Thank you for tonight.” 

“Thank you for tonight, Chan,” you replied. “Text me once you get home so I know you’re safe.”

He slipped out the door and you rushed to your bedroom to change. You put on your favorite warm pajamas and washed your face and brushed your teeth in the washroom.You decided that you deserved a face mask and peeled open the plastic bag before gently laying one of the sheet masks on your face. You snuggled into your bed with the book you had bought a few hours earlier and began to read before receiving a text from Chris. 

And you peacefully fell asleep right there, with your sheet mask on and dreamt of the wonderful night you just experienced.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

PITTER-PATTER-LOVE!

❤︎‬ bits from their official trivia reimagined with you ❤︎‬ itoshi rin, barou shouei, nanase nijiro, michael kaiser x gn reader ‪ ❤︎‬ wc: 2k/~500 words per character

ITOSHI RIN!

valentine’s day: he declined everything he received and sent them back

Rin, before dating you, thought Valentine’s Day was a waste of time. It wasn’t a holiday meant for him nor did he find anything particularly exciting about watching couples drive themselves insane doing insane things in the name of romance. The hoards of chocolates and gifts that would arrive at his clubhouse were nothing but a pain in the ass, and each year, without fail, he’d turn away any gift that hoped to win his favor and send them all back without so much as a second thought.

Now that he’s with you, his thoughts have changed bit by bit. He still thinks Valentine’s Day is stupid. He still thinks couples trying to one-up each other and spending exorbitant amounts of money and time to woo their lover is stupid. He still thinks his fans are wasting their time sending chocolates to him.

And that’s because he’s already fulfilled eating your chocolates. 

“Are you sure your nutritionist won’t get mad at me? Are you sure you’re allowed to have these?” You fret over him, eyes flickering between his stoic face and the tiny chocolates you’ve popped out of the mold, presented plainly on a small plate. Even still, you hold up one piece towards him, like you’re too scared to take the last step to close the gap between yourself and him but still want to pamper him somehow.

If there’s one thing Rin takes seriously, it’s his dedication to his craft. Every waking moment is dedicated to bettering himself, all to topple his brother. His diet is no exception to his strict lifestyle. 

But it’s one day out of the year. It’s one treat out of the endless days of nothing but power foods prepared specially just to augment his performance. One piece of chocolate that you painstakingly made for him, as a gesture of your unwavering love for him. It’s quiet. It’s homey. It’s the exact kind of love that Rin himself didn’t even know he craved.

“Why do you care about what they think so much?” It looks like you still need one last push for him. That’s fine. He can close that distance easily. “One chocolate isn’t going to kill me.”

You hold your breath as he grabs your wrist, lifting the chocolate and your hand towards his lips. His mouth closes gently around your fingers, and the sweet taste of chocolate and sugar coats his tongue. It spreads across his mouth like a warm hug, and it disappears down his throat to leave behind only the thought that he wants more. It’s a shame that he’s such a strong-willed man.

“...Not bad. It’s delicious.” This is his way of praising you. This is his way of marking you as someone special in his life, someone different from the monotony of average and forgettable human beings. This is his way of telling you that he wants to keep you by his side, even if it means that he has to break the rules every now and then to make it work. 

BAROU SHOUEI!

favorite season: end of rainy season

“I’m so glad it’s finally stopped raining,” you happily remark, carefully tiptoeing around a puddle on the ground. “As much as I love doing at-home dates, nothing beats getting to go out with you! And the sun just feels so nice on my skin…”

It’s nothing spectacular, but it tickles Barou just a little bit to see you get this excited over a walk in the park with him. It’s a no-brainer that you’re the sweet and friendly one between the two of you, but it’s hard to not be endeared to how thrilled you are to do something so mundane with him. The sunlight that peeks through the soaked trees seems to twinkle in agreement, and like the gentleman he is when he’s off the field, he offers you an arm.

“You better have put on sunscreen before you left the house. The sun’s nice, but it’ll fry your skin otherwise.” His voice is gruff, but the well-natured intention of his words are easy to pick up. You smile at him as you wrap your arm around his, falling in pace with his steps. It’s heartwarming to see the different way he’s adjusted to life with you, even if it’s something as miniscule as adjusting his walking speed so that you can walk comfortably side-by-side, arm-in-arm with him.

“I have you to take care of me if I get sunburnt. And it’s just a walk in the park. I’m not planning on tanning or anything.” You shrug nonchalantly, clearly without a care in the world. “Spare me the lecture. I know it’s important to put on sunscreen no matter how long or whatever you plan on doing in the sun.”

“I’ll spare you the lecture when you actually take the lecture to heart,” Barou grumbles loudly. He uses his free hand to rummage the small fanny pack slung over his chest, momentarily stopping the walk before pulling out a travel-sized tube of sunscreen. “Here, stay still.”

He lets go of your hand so he can squirt some sunscreen onto your palms. You hold your face out in his direction expectantly, and with a gentleness so dissimilar to his selfish playstyle and intimidating appearance, he gingerly rubs it into your skin. A giggle threatens to break out across your face when you can feel his fingertips go over the apples of your cheeks and the thin skin of your eyelids.

“There. Now I won’t have to worry about you so much.” He huffs. You flutter your eyes open before rewarding him with a smile that’s just as bright as the sunlight you’ve missed so much.

“This is what I mean, Shouei,” you laugh, finding your place by his side once more. Your presence is warm and light, like a breath of fresh air in the spring, the parting of rain clouds to reveal a sparkling rainbow. “Life is so much easier when I’m around you.”

It goes without saying that Barou feels the same way too. 

NANASE NIJIRO!

hobby: karaoke with friends

Nanase can’t remember the last time he’s felt this nervous. Nothing in his life could have prepared him for this moment. He might feel less foolish if it was something worth getting this nervous for, like a big exam or a career-changing game. But instead, he’s sweating like a sinner through his clothes and fidgeting like an unruly toddler all because he’s somehow been invited to tag along to group karaoke with you. 

You, the oblivious recipient of his hopeless affections for what felt like a lifetime to him. He can never tell what you’re thinking, but you look nothing short of radiant as you flip through the worn down catalogue, tongue caught in between your lips in concentration as you carefully scan the song offerings for the perfect tune to showcase your upcoming performance.

It’s so dumb. You’re smart and kind and so patient with him, whereas he feels like a newborn puppy tripping over his own feet in a futile attempt to endear himself to you. Knowing his luck, he’ll be in the midst of trying to blow you away with his singing skills only for the audio to cut off or for his pants to fall down in the middle of the song or for his voice to break like he’s a teenager hitting puberty for the first time or drop his mic and accidentally blow the speakers out-

“‘Jiro-,” a gentle voice rouses him from his nonstop worrying. “Are you listening to me?”

He gasps dramatically as he jolts to life, practically jumping in his seat, only to be scared out of his wits again when he realizes that your face is nothing more than a breath away from his. Any closer and you’d be physically touching him. The tension suddenly roots itself in the room’s atmosphere, and Nanase thinks he might be actually setting a world record for the universe’s fastest heart rate in that instant. 

The karaoke room’s lights flutter all throughout the enclosed space’s walls like the light of many stars holding their breath in anticipation, and judging from the excited murmurs of his observant friends, your close proximity doesn’t go unnoticed. They are absolutely going to tease him to hell later for his horrendous crush on you.

“D-Did you ask me something?” He blinks up at you, his widened eyes the size of saucers. You swear you might be able to make out your reflection in his irises if it weren’t for how dim the room was. 

You expectantly hold out a second mic. He takes it gingerly, clueless, only for realization to dawn on his innocent face when you also hold your hand out to him. You beam towards the lovestruck boy as a vibrant blush claims his face. 

“I’m in the mood for a love song, Nijiro,” you offer. “So why don’t you join me for a duet?”

MICHAEL KAISER!

fetish: faces twisted in despair

Kaiser lives for the thrill of uprooting those underneath him, a cruel grin stretching out across his face as the rush hits his brain. There’s something about seeing his opponents and teammates alike with tears smeared across their eyes, their cries echoing in his eardrums as they cursed and spat his name, becoming the perfect tyrannical villain in those nobodies’ eyes. 

It’s a bit different when it comes to you. As much as he hates to admit it, he hates the thought of you being so sad that your face contorts the same way those trampled athletes once did. But there’s something cute about you when you get frustrated or fed up with something minor: being unable to open a tough jar, accidentally dropping part of your food on the floor, or keeping up with his constant teasing.

“What’s with the long face, darling?” His voice is sickeningly sweet as he wraps an arm around your waist. He yanks at your body, trying to sidle closer to where you’re sitting on the couch. You’re adorable, he can’t help but think, with your arms crossed firmly over your chest. You’re practically glowering at him, and your soft lips are stuck out in a solid pout. 

If you weren’t so mad, Kaiser would have bet on his luck and tried to swipe a kiss from you. But he knows all that’s going to net for him is the cold shoulder and you getting even more mad at him, so he’s left to try and appease you in other ways.

“Is teasing me that fun, Mihya?” You huff. Unlike his saccharine words, your tone is laced to the bone with poison. But he likes that part about you too. He just loves getting a rise out of you and watching the way you react to him, and he loves knowing that he has the power to get under your skin and drive you insane every single minute you spend with him. It’s just so much fun, and knowing that he can find a place in your everyday life like some kind of clingy parasite brings him as much pleasure as striking down his challengers does. 

The nefarious grin on his face only grows as he makes himself comfortable right next to you. Both of his arms are now wrapped snugly around you, pushing your form against his toned chest. You can feel his breath fan out against the shell of your ear, and you fight the shudder that runs down your spine.

“Oh, I think it’s the best. You’re just so irresistible when you’re mad at me.” One arm moves from your waist, and his hand squeezes at your cheeks. “Look at you, darling! Look at how cute you are! You’re the best when you’re pissed at me.”

“You’re the worst!” You grit your teeth, mustering up all your strength to wrench your face out of his hand. He lets out a loud laugh as you turn away from him fully. That face of yours, twisted into your own form of despair, is too good for him to pass up.

x

[feketeribizli]

“Oh no Kendall don’t do that!” *makes Kendall do that*

Just kidding ily

this got a lot funnier to me after shifting things around in my timeline and lore so that they do their lower formulas together...

imagine youre seventeen and youre competing in a regional championship and theres this stupid boy right below you in the drivers standings and he keeps provoking you on track and then after he crashes into you he keeps provoking you off track as well and youre so annoyed you begin to develop feelings for him and you two start hanging out and then going out and then making out and you kind of like him a lot but also dont like him at all and at the last leg of the championship you can count the points you need to win it all on one hand and everything is going in your favor until that stupid boy crashes into you again and your race is fucked and you dont win the championship AND that stupid boy has the galls to break things off with you the day after over the phone. and he doesnt even apologize for fucking up your championship

and then when you finally have the backing to graduate to formula 3 you find out your stupid boy is also there and you two act like you dont know each other the whole season that despite its short run is filled with ups and downs and you watch him struggle with a smile on your face as you claw your way to the top and secure the title. for the first time since the break up he comes to talk to you face to face and congratulates you. nothing more

you level up to f2 together again and the two of you start spending time together once more but youre mainly driven by spite and hate. you want to show him, you want to beat him. he flirts with you on and off track and you flirt back, empty promises you toss around between each other. and when you get the news of your f1 promotion he comes to you to congratulate you with a strange shine in his eyes and that night you fuck him like you mean it. and everything is good in the world because you did it

he stays in f2 for another year as you gear up for big boys formula one. and when you finish on podium on your debut while he fucks his feature race and dnfs, the champagne stinging in your eyes feels sweeter than anything youve known before. you find each other more and more often thorough the season as your calendars line up and you always make sure he knows his place. you dont sleep with him as often but eat him up as much as you can nevertheless. life is good. your career is steady, youre always in the points, you got your boytoy; its like a dream you hope will never end

and then you qualify on pole at home. youre on top of the world, it simply cant get any better than this. you feel confident and in your element getting into the car on sunday and you have a great start. but then the car starts feeling different and no matter what you radio in the feedback is dismissively positive until suddenly theres no grip on the breaks and the w13 slides out from under you spinning into the barriers and you dont even feel the impact of it you dont feel anything just the warmth of the cockpit enveloping you as distraught voices in your ears urge you to eject from the car. and as smoke fills your helmet and your lungs and numbness spreads across your limbs you think to yourself, this is it... youre glad your parents couldnt attend and you hope they turn the tv off and you wish you told that stupid boy you actually like him

you dont know if it takes seconds or minutes or longer but you manage to dig yourself out of the car and fall to your knees on the gravel. youre okay. you will be okay, the marshals tell you as they help you into the safety car but every fiber in your body hurts and your fireproofs burn as they stick to you like a second skin and you just want to scream and not be seen by thousands as youre waking up from this dream that was true good to be true

and when days later the stupid boy calls you and you two talk for hours as you rot away in your hospital bed, badly but not severely burn on your whole left side, he says he thinks that you will recover and be back with the team in no time and he sounds so earnest that you might actually believe him. the team sacks you and banishes you to reserve duties forever

so when two years later out of the blue the stupid boy is announced to fill in a seat at aston martin you almost call and congratulate him. almost