#knowing me that one will be too oversized 😅

[call-me-pup2]

Can woman's clothing sizes make sense plz, I shouldn't have had to ordered a coat in a size up from my usual one to find it still doesn't fit right 🥴🥲

[hsjazebel]

Meant to be

Summary: Y/N never expected a college party to change anything—until she met Harry. What starts as a quiet connection over books and movies slowly turns into something deeper, proving that some things are simply meant to be.

Wordcount: 32k+ (I have been carried away, sorry 😅)

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day! ♡ Here’s a little story about love finding you when you least expect it. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

— — —

The party was louder than she expected.

Y/N wasn’t sure why she had let Charlotte convince her to come. Maybe it was the way her roommate had pleaded, eyes wide with excitement, promising it would be “just for an hour.” Or maybe it was the fact that she had spent too many Friday nights curled up in bed while the rest of campus buzzed with energy.

She had thought, just for once, that maybe she should say yes.

But now, standing in the middle of the crowded living room, she regretted it.

The music thumped against the walls, the bass so deep she could feel it in her ribs. Laughter and voices blurred together in an endless hum, broken only by the occasional shout of someone calling out to a friend. The air was thick—too many people, too much perfume, too much heat.

She tugged at the hem of her sweater, suddenly self-conscious. She wasn’t dressed for this, not like the other girls in shimmering tops and short skirts. She had gone for comfort—jeans, a fitted top, her favorite oversized cardigan—but now she felt out of place, like she hadn’t read the unspoken dress code.

Charlotte had disappeared almost immediately, swallowed up by the crowd, probably off to find that guy she’d been texting. Y/N had tried to follow for a bit, but the sea of people made it impossible to keep up.

Now she was alone, pressed against the wall, holding a drink she hadn’t even sipped.

She exhaled, glancing toward the front door. Maybe she could just leave. Charlotte wouldn’t mind—she was too caught up in her own night.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an open door leading to the balcony.

Without thinking, she headed for it, slipping outside and closing the door behind her.

Cool air washed over her, a welcome contrast to the stifling heat inside. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and leaned against the railing, her fingers wrapping around the cold metal. The city stretched out in front of her, distant lights flickering against the night sky. From here, the noise of the party was muffled, just a dull hum beneath the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the silence settle over her.

And then—

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

The voice was smooth, warm. British.

Her eyes snapped open.

Turning slightly, she found herself face to face with someone she recognized immediately.

Harry Styles.

Her breath hitched, just for a second.

She had seen him around before, of course. It was hard not to notice him. He wasn’t the typical loud, overly confident guy that thrived in these kinds of settings, but he had a presence that made people gravitate toward him anyway. Maybe it was the way he carried himself—calm, collected, always with an air of quiet amusement, like he was in on some inside joke no one else knew about.

Now, standing in front of her in the dim balcony light, he looked impossibly at ease.

His dark curls were pushed back messily, a few strands falling over his forehead. A pair of thin-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, framing sharp green eyes that studied her with quiet interest. His loose button-up was unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the intricate tattoos winding down his forearms.

He held a drink casually in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket, like he had all the time in the world.

She swallowed.

“I—uh—yeah,” she finally managed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

His lips quirked, as if her answer didn’t surprise him at all. “Figured as much.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how exactly did you figure that?”

He took a slow sip from his drink before answering. “Well, for one, you’ve been out here for at least five minutes and haven’t checked your phone once.” His eyes flickered toward the door. “And two… you look like you’re trying to disappear.”

She huffed out a quiet laugh. “That obvious?”

Harry smirked. “A little.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The city lights flickered in the distance, and the air between them felt charged—not uncomfortable, but something else entirely.

Then, he shifted slightly, turning more toward her.

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

She let out a small breath, amused. As if she didn’t already know.

“I know,” she admitted, then immediately winced. “I mean—everyone knows who you are.”

Harry chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That’s fair.” He tilted his head slightly. “And you are…?”

“Y/N.”

He repeated it, softer this time, like he was testing the way it felt on his tongue. Then, with a small smile, he extended his hand. “Well, Y/N, it’s nice to officially meet you.”

She hesitated for just a second before slipping her hand into his.

His palm was warm, his grip gentle but firm.

“Nice to meet you too, Harry.”

His fingers lingered a second longer than necessary before he let go.

He leaned his elbow against the railing, glancing at her thoughtfully. “So, if parties aren’t your thing… what would you rather be doing right now?”

She bit her lip, thinking. “Watching a movie, probably.”

Harry’s brows lifted slightly. “Anything in particular?”

She hesitated, then decided to be honest. “A romcom.”

His lips curled into a slow smile. “You like romcoms?”

She nodded. “I grew up watching them. Notting Hill, 10 Things I Hate About You, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days… I know they’re cheesy, but I love them.”

He studied her for a second, then let out a soft chuckle. “Cheesy doesn’t mean bad. Those are classics.”

She tilted her head. “Wait… you actually like them too?”

Harry smirked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Course I do. I mean, have you seen When Harry Met Sally? It’s got my name in it. That’s a sign, don’t you think?”

She laughed—really laughed, for the first time that night.

Harry watched her, his expression softer now, like he was pleased to be the reason behind it.

The conversation flowed easier after that. They debated over the best romcom of all time, exchanged favorite scenes, and argued about which movie had the most unrealistic yet satisfying ending. Somewhere in between, Y/N forgot about the party altogether.

But eventually, her phone buzzed in her pocket—Charlotte, probably looking for her.

She sighed, realizing she had to go.

Harry noticed. “Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She hesitated, then, feeling unusually bold, added, “But… maybe next time, I’ll skip the party and just watch a romcom instead.”

His smile was slow, almost knowing. “Maybe next time, you won’t have to watch it alone.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

And as she stepped back inside, disappearing into the noise and the crowd, she couldn’t help but hope—just a little—that this was only the beginning.

———

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sound of Charlotte’s voice.

“Well, well, well,” her roommate drawled, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “Look who’s finally awake.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face into the pillow. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” Charlotte said, walking over and flopping down onto the bed beside her. “And you have some explaining to do.”

Y/N peeked at her through one eye. “Explaining?”

Charlotte grinned, far too awake for this early in the morning. “Don’t play innocent with me. You disappeared at the party. And when I finally found you again, you looked… different.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “So spill.”

Y/N sighed, rolling onto her back. “There’s nothing to spill.”

Charlotte gasped dramatically. “Lies! I saw you talking to Harry Styles.” She poked Y/N’s side. “You—quiet, book-loving, avoider of all social gatherings—somehow ended up alone on a balcony with the most intriguing guy on campus.”

Y/N felt her face heat up. “It wasn’t like that,” she muttered.

Charlotte smirked. “Then what was it like?”

Y/N hesitated. The truth was, she wasn’t exactly sure.

“It was… nice,” she admitted after a moment. “We just talked.”

Charlotte studied her, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Talked? That’s it?”

Y/N nodded.

Charlotte huffed, flopping back against the bed. “You’re impossible.”

Y/N smiled, sitting up and stretching. “Did you at least have fun?”

Charlotte let out a dreamy sigh. “Oh, absolutely. And I might have secured myself a coffee date with Mason.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Mason?”

“You know, Harry’s friend? Tall, kind of scruffy, ridiculously charming?” Charlotte waggled her fingers. “I think we have a connection.”

Y/N laughed softly. “I’m happy for you.”

Charlotte sat up again, her expression turning devious. “And speaking of coffee dates…”

Y/N’s stomach fluttered. “No.”

Charlotte pouted. “Come on! I think he likes you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We talked for, like, twenty minutes.”

Charlotte shrugged. “That’s plenty of time to make an impression. And if he really likes you, you’ll see him again.”

Y/N didn’t answer. Because the thought had already crossed her mind.

Would she see him again?

———

She did.

Three days later.

At the campus café.

Y/N had been curled up in a corner booth, a warm cup of tea beside her as she flipped through a book for class. The café was quiet, filled mostly with students studying or catching up on assignments. The hum of conversation and the occasional clinking of cups created the kind of atmosphere she loved—calm, steady, familiar.

And then, a shadow fell over her table.

“Y/N.”

She looked up.

And there he was.

Harry Styles, standing beside her table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a curious tilt to his head. He wasn’t wearing his glasses today, but she still recognized the quiet amusement in his eyes.

“Hi,” she said, feeling her heart pick up speed.

His lips twitched. “Mind if I sit?”

She hesitated for only a second before shaking her head. “Go ahead.”

Harry slid into the seat across from her, setting his coffee down. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Alright, I might have hoped I would.”

Her stomach did an embarrassing little flip.

“What are you reading?” he asked, nodding toward the book in her hands.

She glanced down, suddenly self-conscious. “Uh, Wuthering Heights.”

His brows lifted, impressed. “Intense choice.”

She shrugged. “It’s for class, but I like it.”

Harry studied her for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, stretching out comfortably. “So, tell me—are you one of those people who think Heathcliff is romantic, or do you see him for the walking red flag that he is?”

Y/N blinked in surprise. “You’ve read it?”

He smirked. “I have.”

She bit her lip, eyeing him. “And?”

Harry sighed dramatically. “Look, I get the passion, the whole ‘soulmate across time and space’ thing, but let’s be honest—if Heathcliff were around today, he’d be sending late-night ‘u up?’ texts and brooding over his ex’s Instagram posts.”

Y/N let out a surprised laugh. “That is… disturbingly accurate.”

Harry grinned. “And you? Are you a Heathcliff apologist?”

She shook her head. “I think he and Cathy deserved each other—because no one else should have to deal with that level of drama.”

Harry chuckled. “Harsh, but fair.”

There was something about the way he looked at her—curious, amused, like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. It made her stomach twist in a way she wasn’t used to.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Then—

“So,” Harry said, breaking the moment, “you never told me your verdict.”

Y/N frowned. “My verdict?”

“The best romcom of all time.”

She smiled, relieved by the lighter topic. “That’s impossible to answer.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright. Then let’s make it simpler. What’s your go-to comfort movie?”

She thought for a second. “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”

His eyes lit up. “Classic.”

She nodded. “It’s just fun, you know? The whole fake dating thing, the ridiculousness of it all. And Kate Hudson? Iconic.”

Harry smirked. “And the ‘You let it die!’ scene? A cinematic masterpiece.”

Y/N laughed. “Exactly.”

Harry studied her for a moment, then said, “I like that.”

Y/N suddenly felt warm under his gaze. She looked down, tracing the rim of her cup. “What about you?”

Harry pretended to think. “Mmm… Notting Hill.”

She grinned. “Oh, come on. You just like it because of the ‘I’m just a girl’ scene.”

He laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe I like the idea that two people from completely different worlds can still find their way to each other.”

Something about the way he said it made her stomach flutter.

The conversation drifted after that—talk of books, movies, little things that made them both feel at home. The more they spoke, the more Y/N felt that strange, unexpected ease settle between them.

And when she finally glanced at the time, she realized an hour had passed without her even noticing.

“I should probably get to class,” she murmured, closing her book.

Harry nodded, but didn’t look particularly eager to leave.

As she stood, sliding her bag over her shoulder, he tapped his fingers against the table. “So…”

She looked at him expectantly.

He smirked. “Movie night?”

Her heart skipped. “Are you asking me out, Harry Styles?”

His expression was all mischief. “Maybe.”

She bit her lip, pretending to consider. Then, feeling unusually bold, she said, “Okay.”

Harry’s smirk turned into something softer.

“Good,” he said.

And as she walked away, she could feel his eyes on her the whole time.

———

The library was quieter than usual.

Y/N liked it that way. She liked the solitude, the way the world seemed to shrink down to just her and the words on the page. It was calming—predictable.

What she didn’t expect, however, was a voice breaking through the silence.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to hide away in a library for fun.”

She looked up, already knowing who she would see.

Harry stood in front of her table, a familiar smirk on his lips, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He had a notebook tucked under his arm and a coffee in hand, looking completely at ease despite the way his presence sent her heart racing.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “And yet, here you are.”

Harry hummed, sliding into the chair across from her. “Touché.”

She watched as he set his coffee down and flipped open his notebook, as if he belonged there—like this was routine.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually here to study, or are you just bothering me for fun?”

Harry grinned. “Can it be both?”

She huffed, biting back a smile as she returned her gaze to her book. But she could still feel his eyes on her.

A beat passed before he spoke again. “Wuthering Heights, huh? Still brooding over Heathcliff?”

Y/N sighed, looking up. “You do realize I read more than one book, right?”

Harry’s smirk widened. “Do you, now?”

She rolled her eyes and turned the book so he could see the title.

His gaze flickered over the cover before he raised an eyebrow. “White Nights?”

Y/N tilted her head. “Surprised?”

Harry leaned back in his chair, studying her. “A little. Didn’t take you for a Dostoevsky kind of girl.”

“And what kind of girl did you take me for?” she challenged.

He smirked. “Jane Austen, maybe. Brontë sisters, definitely. But Russian literature? That’s a surprise.”

She shrugged. “I like stories about lonely people.”

Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone too fast for her to catch.

“Lonely people,” he repeated. “And here I thought you just liked tragic love stories.”

Y/N hesitated, then said softly, “Aren’t they the same thing?”

Harry studied her for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, in a voice quieter than before, he said, “I guess they are.”

Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like something had shifted—like she had let him see a part of her she didn’t show to just anyone.

Then, after a moment, Harry’s lips twitched up into a smile. “So, is White Nights a re-read, or am I catching you in the middle of a first-time experience?”

She exhaled, grateful for the change in tone. “Re-read.”

His grin widened. “Interesting. That means you must really like it.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you about to judge my taste in books?”

Harry smirked. “Not at all. I was actually going to say… maybe I should let you convince me to read it.”

Y/N studied him. “You’ve never read it?”

“Not yet,” he admitted.

A small smile played on her lips. “Maybe you should.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe I will.”

———

That night, her phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

Unknown [9:07 PM]: So, lonely people, huh? Convince me why I should read White Nights.

Y/N frowned, staring at the screen. Who the hell—?

Y/N [9:08 PM]: Who is this?

A pause. Then—

Unknown [9:08 PM]: Wow. That hurts.

Her heart skipped.

She squinted at the message, then at the number, but it wasn’t saved in her contacts.

Y/N [9:09 PM]: Seriously. Who is this??

A few seconds passed before a reply popped up.

Unknown [9:09 PM]: It’s Harry.

She blinked.

Then—

Y/N [9:10 PM]: …How did you get my number?

Harry [9:11 PM]: Your lovely roommate gave it to me.

Y/N groaned out loud. “Charlotte!”

Across the room, Charlotte barely glanced up from her laptop. “Hmm?”

Y/N waved her phone in the air. “Did you seriously give Harry my number?”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh. So he finally texted you?”

“Charlotte.”

“What?” she said innocently. “He asked, and I figured it would take you forever to do it yourself.”

Y/N let out a long, dramatic sigh, turning her attention back to the screen.

Y/N [9:12 PM]: I hate you.

Harry [9:12 PM]: No, you don’t.

She rolled her eyes.

Y/N [9:13 PM]: Maybe you should read it and see for yourself.

Harry [9:14 PM]: Bold of you to assume I have time for Russian literature.

Y/N [9:15 PM]: Bold of you to assume I’d let you borrow my copy.

Harry [9:16 PM]: So possessive. I like it.

Y/N [9:17 PM]: You’re impossible.

Harry [9:17 PM]: And yet, here you are, still texting me.

She bit her lip, trying not to smile.

Harry [9:18 PM]: You still good for our not-date movie night?

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

Y/N [9:19 PM]: You mean the highly academic film screening of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?

Harry [9:20 PM]: Exactly. For research purposes.

She hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.

Y/N [9:21 PM]: Yeah. I’m still in.

His reply came almost instantly.

Harry [9:21 PM]: Good.

She stared at the word for a long time, ignoring the way her face felt impossibly warm.

———

“You’ve checked your phone three times in the last minute.”

Y/N shot Charlotte a glare from across the room. “I have not.”

Charlotte smirked, finishing the last touches of her makeup. “You so have.”

Y/N huffed, locking her phone and tossing it onto the bed like that would somehow make her friend drop the topic. “I’m just checking the time.”

“Mm-hmm.” Charlotte turned, arms crossed. “Because, of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that Harry is coming over.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her face felt warm. “It’s just a movie night.”

Charlotte grinned. “And yet, you’ve changed your sweater twice.”

Y/N groaned, flopping back onto her pillows. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Charlotte grabbed her bag, checking her reflection in the mirror. “I think it’s cute that you’re all flustered over him.”

“I’m not flustered.”

Charlotte raised a brow. “You are so flustered.”

Y/N groaned again, covering her face with a pillow.

A knock at the door made her sit up way too fast.

Charlotte smirked knowingly. “That’s my cue.”

Y/N watched as Charlotte opened the door, revealing Harry—standing there in his usual effortless way, glasses on, a bag of snacks in one hand.

“Oh, hey, Harry,” Charlotte greeted with a grin, throwing Y/N one last look. “I was just leaving.”

Harry glanced between them, looking mildly amused. “Leaving?”

“Yep.” Charlotte winked at Y/N. “Have fun.”

And before Y/N could even form a reply, she was gone.

Harry stepped inside, brow raised. “Did I just interrupt something?”

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head. “No. She’s just being Charlotte.”

Harry chuckled, setting the snacks down. “That explains a lot.”

Settling onto the couch, Y/N pressed play on 27 Dresses, tucking her legs under her.

Harry sat beside her, stretching his arm along the back of the couch. The space between them was small—too small—and she tried not to focus on the way his knee almost brushed hers.

“Have you seen this before?” he asked.

She scoffed. “Please. At least twenty times.”

Harry smiled. “Figures.”

For the first half hour, they made occasional comments about the movie—Harry teasing her about knowing all the lines, Y/N defending why it was a romcom classic.

But eventually, the room grew quieter. The soft glow of the screen cast shadows across Harry’s face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the way his glasses slid down his nose.

And Y/N—despite her best efforts to stay focused on the film—felt her eyelids growing heavy.

She shifted slightly, trying to stay awake, but the warmth of the room, the steady sound of the dialogue, and the presence of Harry right beside her made it impossible.

At some point, she leaned just a little too far to the side—

And before she could stop herself, her head landed gently on his shoulder.

For a second, she almost panicked.

But Harry didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

If anything, he relaxed.

She felt him shift slightly, adjusting so that she fit more comfortably against him.

And just like that, sleep took over.

———

The next morning, the first thing Y/N registered was warmth.

A slow, steady warmth surrounding her, lulling her in a sleepy haze.

Then, she felt movement.

Her eyes fluttered open, and it took her a moment to realize:

She was curled into Harry’s side, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders.

The snack bag was on the floor. The TV screen had long since gone black. The early morning light was filtering through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room.

And Harry—

Was still asleep.

His head rested against the back of the couch, lips slightly parted, curls falling across his forehead. His glasses were slightly askew, one arm still tucked around her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N barely breathed.

She should move. Should sit up, stretch, do anything to break the moment before he woke up.

But before she could, she felt him shift.

A slow inhale. A stretch.

And then, with a small frown, Harry’s eyes blinked open.

For a second, he looked confused. Disoriented.

Then, his gaze landed on her.

They both froze.

Silence.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

And then—

Harry’s lips twitched, still laced with sleep. “Morning.”

Y/N swallowed. “Morning.”

Another pause.

Then, realization dawned in Harry’s sleepy eyes. He glanced down at their position—her body still tucked into his side, his arm still loosely wrapped around her.

And yet—he didn’t move away.

Instead, his mouth curved into something softer.

“Didn’t mean to steal your couch,” he murmured.

Y/N huffed out a quiet laugh. “Didn’t mean to steal your shoulder.”

Harry smiled.

And for a moment, they just… sat there.

Close. Warm. Unmoving.

Y/N was still sitting on the couch, trying to process the fact that she’d just spent the night curled up against Harry Styles, when she heard him stretch beside her.

She glanced over. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, one hand running through his curls, the other adjusting his glasses.

And he looked… way too good for someone who had just woken up.

Before she could stop herself, she spoke.

“Do you—” She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. “Do you want some coffee?”

Harry turned to her, blinking.

Then, the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Are you offering me coffee, Y/N?”

She rolled her eyes, standing up. “I regret it already.”

Harry chuckled, pushing himself up from the couch. “Too late.”

———

They ended up in the small dorm kitchen, Y/N fumbling with the coffee machine while Harry leaned against the counter, watching her with amusement.

“I didn’t peg you as the type to function without caffeine,” he said.

She scoffed. “Who says I function at all?”

Harry smirked. “Fair point.”

Once the coffee was ready, she handed him a mug, grabbing one for herself before hopping up onto the counter.

Harry took a slow sip, humming in approval. “Not bad.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Not bad?”

“Yeah.” He nudged her knee playfully. “Could be better.”

She gasped in mock offense. “You are such a snob.”

Harry grinned. “I have high standards.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling.

They fell into comfortable conversation, talking about everything from classes to 27 Dresses to how Harry apparently had a very strong opinion about the correct way to make tea.

And Y/N—despite the fact that she had woken up to a situation that should have been extremely awkward—found herself relaxing.

That was, of course, until Charlotte walked in.

She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before her—Harry standing in the kitchen, hair still tousled from sleep, drinking coffee from their mugs.

Y/N sitting on the counter, wearing the same clothes from last night.

Charlotte’s eyes widened.

Then, a slow smirk spread across her face.

“Oh,” she said, drawing out the word. “Good morning.”

Y/N groaned. “Charlotte—”

Charlotte ignored her, turning to Harry with an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Wow, Harry. You’re still here?”

Harry, to Y/N’s horror, grinned.

“Apparently, I make decent company, and your couch is not too bad” he said, sipping his coffee.

Charlotte gasped dramatically. “Did Y/N let you sleep on the couch? That is so rude.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Charlotte.”

Charlotte pressed a hand to her heart. “I mean, I was gone all night, you totally could’ve used my bed—”

Y/N almost choked on her coffee. “Oh my God, stop.”

Charlotte just smirked, eyes dancing between them. “I’m just saying…”

Y/N glared. “You’re the worst.”

Harry chuckled, setting down his mug. “I should probably get going before Mason starts wondering where I am.”

He turned to Y/N then, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he murmured.

She swallowed. “Yeah. Anytime.”

Charlotte wiggled her eyebrows.

Y/N shot her a warning look.

Harry—completely amused—grabbed his bag and made his way to the door.

“See you later, Y/N.”

And with that, he was gone.

Y/N barely had time to let out a breath before Charlotte pounced.

“So.”

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Don’t.”

Charlotte ignored her, flopping onto the couch with a wicked grin. “You slept together.”

“Oh my God—”

“Not like that,” Charlotte amended. “But still. You slept together.”

Y/N groaned. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Oh, honey. It so was.”

———

Y/N had spent the entire morning convincing herself that nothing had changed.

That waking up next to Harry hadn’t felt different.

That the way he had smiled at her over coffee hadn’t made her stomach flip.

That she wasn’t replaying every second of their time together like some lovesick idiot.

But she was failing—miserably.

And Charlotte wasn’t helping.

“So,” her roommate drawled, flipping through a magazine on her bed, “are we just gonna pretend that last night never happened?”

Y/N, sitting at her desk, sighed. “Nothing happened.”

Charlotte scoffed. “You cuddled on the couch, made him coffee in the morning, and practically gazed at each other the whole time. That’s something.”

Y/N turned to glare at her. “I wasn’t gazing.”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh, honey. You were gazing.”

Y/N groaned, dropping her head onto her desk.

Charlotte laughed, tossing the magazine aside. “Look, all I’m saying is—he’s different, isn’t he?”

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

Charlotte shrugged. “I mean, I’ve never seen you act like this over a guy. You usually keep your distance, but with Harry… I don’t know. You let him in.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest—but nothing came out.

Because, as much as she hated to admit it, Charlotte wasn’t wrong.

Harry was different.

And that was what scared her the most.

———

That afternoon, she tried to focus on studying.

Tried being the keyword.

She was in the library, sitting at her usual spot by the window, but the words on the page blurred together.

Her phone buzzed.

She glanced at it, already knowing who it was.

Harry [3:27 PM]: You’re not skipping the library today, are you?

Y/N [3:28 PM]: I’m literally here right now.

Harry [3:29 PM]: Good. Would’ve had to question your commitment to academia otherwise.

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips.

A minute later, she heard a chair scrape against the floor.

She looked up.

Harry slid into the seat across from her, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Hi,” he said, smiling.

Y/N tried to ignore the way her heartbeat definitely sped up. “Hi.”

He set down his bag and pulled out a book. “What are we studying today?”

Y/N sighed. “I’m trying to get through this reading, but it’s not working.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Do you want me to quiz you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You just got here.”

He smirked. “And?”

She shook her head, amused. “Fine.”

And so, they studied. Or at least, they tried.

Every time Harry read a passage aloud, he did it with exaggerated dramatics, making Y/N laugh.

Whenever she got an answer right, he’d tap his fingers against the table like a drumroll.

At some point, he reached for her book, fingers grazing hers—and neither of them pulled away.

The touch was brief, but her skin tingled where it had been.

Harry didn’t say anything, but his gaze flickered to hers, something unspoken lingering between them.

For the first time, Y/N felt like she was on the edge of something.

And she didn’t know whether to step forward—or run.

———

An hour later, Y/N packed up her things.

“I should go,” she murmured.

Harry nodded, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Alright.”

She hesitated before speaking. “Thanks for—y’know. Keeping me sane.”

Harry’s lips quirked. “Anytime.”

As she turned to leave, he called after her

“Oh, Y/N?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

Harry reached into his bag, pulling out a book.

She frowned as he held it out to her.

“The Symposium?” she read aloud, eyebrows raised.

Harry smirked. “Figured you might like it.”

She stared at him. “Harry, this is your copy.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“So, I know you annotate all your books.” She flipped through the pages, confirming her suspicions—his familiar, neat handwriting filled the margins. “I can’t take this.”

“You can,” he said simply. “And you will.”

She glanced up at him, confused. “But… why?”

Harry held her gaze for a moment, then leaned in slightly.

“Because I think you’ll understand it,” he murmured.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Because there was weight behind his words—something deeper than just a casual book recommendation.

She swallowed, gripping the book a little tighter.

“…Thank you,” she said softly.

Harry smiled. “See you later, Y/N.”

And as she walked away, The Symposium pressed against her chest, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

That, maybe, she had just crossed a line she could never go back from.

———

The night wrapped around them like a quiet secret. The streets were nearly empty, the world softened by the golden glow of streetlamps.

Y/N and Harry walked side by side, their steps unhurried, as if neither of them wanted the night to end just yet.

She wasn’t sure how they ended up here—how a simple goodnight after studying turned into do you want to take a walk? But she didn’t regret saying yes.

It had been a week since that night at her apartment, since they’d woken up together on the couch, and things between them had shifted. Not in an obvious way—there were no declarations, no grand confessions—but something had changed.

Harry had always looked at her like he was intrigued. But now?

Now, he looked at her like he knew. Like he was just waiting for her to admit it, too.

“You’re quiet,” Harry murmured beside her.

She glanced at him. “So are you.”

He smiled, a little crooked. “Guess I don’t always have something to say.”

“Impossible.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Harsh.”

They walked a little further before she spoke again, a quiet admission in the stillness of the night.

“I read your notes.”

Harry turned his head slightly. “My notes?”

“In The Symposium.”

Realization flickered in his expression. “Right.”

She hesitated. “There was one part that stuck with me.”

His gaze softened. “Which one?”

Y/N swallowed.

“The part where you wrote that love is about recognizing something familiar in someone else.”

Harry didn’t speak right away.

Then, quietly, he said, “That’s my favorite part.”

Y/N stopped walking.

So did he.

The silence between them stretched, heavy with something.

She could feel her pulse thrumming in her wrists, in her throat, in the space between them that was growing smaller by the second.

Harry took a step closer. Slowly. Like he was giving her time to stop him.

She didn’t.

His gaze flickered to her lips, just for a second, before meeting her eyes again.

His voice was softer when he spoke next. “You realize I like you, don’t you?”

Y/N felt something tighten in her chest.

Because, of course, she did.

But hearing it—feeling it—was different.

She exhaled, barely a whisper. “I think I do now.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good.”

He didn’t move right away.

He just looked at her, taking her in, like he was memorizing the moment.

Then, so softly it was almost imperceptible, his fingers brushed against hers.

Y/N inhaled sharply.

And that was all it took.

Before she could second-guess it, before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them.

She barely had time to process the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breath, before his hand came up, fingers grazing her jaw as he leaned in—slow, careful, waiting.

And then—

Then, he kissed her.

It was soft at first. Just a whisper of a touch, a silent question against her lips.

But the moment she kissed him back, the moment her fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater, it changed.

It deepened.

Harry let out a quiet sound—like he had been waiting for this longer than he cared to admit—and then his hands were on her waist, pulling her closer, closer, like the space between them was unbearable.

Her heart was racing.

She could feel the warmth of his palms, the faint scrape of his stubble against her skin, the way he kissed her like he was learning her—like he wanted to know exactly how she fit against him.

And she let him.

By the time they pulled apart, her head was spinning, her breath uneven.

Harry’s forehead rested against hers, and he let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” she asked, still breathless.

He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing. Just… glad I finally did that.”

She bit her lip, trying—and failing—not to smile.

“Me too.”

Harry’s thumb brushed against her waist absentmindedly.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked.

Y/N nodded.

But neither of them moved.

Not right away.

And when they finally started walking again, Harry’s fingers found hers, intertwining them effortlessly—like they had been waiting to do that, too.

———

It had only been a couple of weeks since that night—their first kiss under the dim glow of the streetlights—but things between them had changed so much.

Not in an overwhelming way. Not in a way that made Y/N feel rushed or pressured.

But in a way that made her soften.

In a way that made it impossible to ignore how utterly smitten Harry was.

It was in the way he always found a reason to touch her, even in the smallest ways—fingertips brushing against hers when they walked, absentmindedly tucking her hair behind her ear when she was focused on something, resting his chin on her shoulder just because he could.

It was in the way he remembered things, like how she liked her coffee and how she hated the sound of loud chewing. In the way he always waited for her outside class even when they had different schedules. In the way he looked at her, like he was always choosing to.

Like he couldn’t believe she was real.

Today was no different.

Y/N sat curled up on the library couch, actually trying to get some work done, while Harry sat beside her, flipping through a book he had absolutely no interest in.

At least, that’s what she assumed—because instead of reading, he was staring at her.

She sighed, setting her pen down. “Harry.”

“Hm?” He looked unbothered, too comfortable as he rested his head against the back of the couch.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

She shot him a pointed look.

He smirked, unfazed. “Looking at my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flipped.

Even after two weeks, the word still did something to her.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were warm, and Harry knew it.

With a quiet chuckle, he reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers, absentmindedly running his thumb across the back of her palm.

“Should I be studying?” he murmured, lips twitching.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Harry pretended to consider it. Then, with zero hesitation, he squeezed her hand and dragged it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

“Too bad,” he murmured against her skin.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

This boy.

She was so doomed.

———

Y/N had tried to keep things subtle.

Not because she wanted to hide it, but because Charlotte was the biggest menace when it came to teasing her, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that just yet.

Too bad Charlotte noticed everything.

Like the way Y/N smiled at her phone when she thought no one was looking. The way she suspiciously left the dorm at night with an “I’ll be back later.” The way she got flustered when Harry’s name came up in conversation.

She had her suspicions, but she didn’t have proof.

Until now.

Because today, as Charlotte was walking toward the dorm, she saw them.

Saw Harry pressing a lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead. Saw the way she leaned into him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And that was all she needed.

“I KNEW IT!”

Y/N jumped, turning to find Charlotte standing a few feet away with the biggest, most victorious grin on her face.

“Oh my God,” Y/N muttered.

Harry—who clearly wasn’t fazed at all—simply raised an eyebrow. “Did you, though?”

Charlotte turned to him, still grinning. “YES. I just didn’t have evidence.” She turned back to Y/N, wiggling her eyebrows. “But now I do.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Charlotte sing-songed.

Harry chuckled, amused, before leaning down and whispering into Y/N’s ear, “I’ll leave you to it, sweetheart.”

She sighed dramatically. “Coward.”

He smirked, kissed the side of her head one last time, and walked away, leaving her to deal with Charlotte’s relentless interrogation.

Y/N was so in trouble.

———

After an hour of being mercilessly teased, Y/N flopped onto her bed, groaning in frustration.

Charlotte smirked from across the room. “Oh, come on, you love me.”

“Debatable,” Y/N muttered, reaching for her phone.

She scrolled through her messages before typing.

Y/N [10:08 PM]: I officially hate you.

Harry [10:09 PM]: That’s unfortunate.

Y/N [10:09 PM]: Charlotte won’t stop teasing me. This is your fault.

Harry [10:10 PM]: Guess I’ll just have to make it up to you, won’t I?

Y/N froze, rereading the message at least three times.

Before she could even think of a response, there was a quiet knock on the door.

Charlotte and Y/N shared a look.

Y/N opened it—and there he was.

Harry stood there, a lazy smirk on his lips, holding a small pastry in a white paper bag.

“Hey,” he murmured.

Y/N blinked.

Charlotte—who was watching the whole thing unfold—snorted. “Oh, my God. You are so whipped.”

Harry didn’t even deny it.

He just shrugged, handed Y/N the bag, and kissed her temple like it was the most normal thing in the world.

When she looked inside, she found her favorite pastry, the one from the café across campus.

She looked back up at him, eyes soft. “You went all the way to—“

Harry simply shrugged. “Felt like it”

Y/N pressed her lips together, trying not to melt right then and there.

Charlotte, however, had no such restraint. “You two are disgusting”, she muttered, rolling her eyes before dramatically throwing a pillow over her head.

Harry chuckled, then leaned down and whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Worth it.”

And just like that, Y/N knew—

She was so, so screwed.

[faebled-stories]

Perfect Pitch

Kinkvember Day 28: Size Difference.

LOONA/Loossemble Im Yeojin x Male reader

13.6k words

AN: I did my best to get this out in time for you all! Finals are next week, and I’ve been stressing and studying like crazy😅. Hope you guys enjoy. 💖

PS: 2 More fics left.

Sunlight filters through the blinds in your kitchen, painting soft, golden streaks across the walls and counters. The warm light blends with the muted grays and creamy tones of the decor, giving the space a comforting glow. The air carries the rich aroma of pancakes sizzling on the stove, their edges crisping just right as the batter bubbles and pops. Outside, sparrows chirp in the distance, their song weaving into the quiet hum of morning.

In the doorway, Yeojin appears, shuffling in with a sleepy grace. She’s draped in one of your oversized shirts, the fabric hanging loosely around her, brushing her knees. The sleeves are far too long, barely revealing her fingertips as she rubs at her eyes. Her hair is an artful mess, strands falling into her face in a way that somehow makes her look effortlessly adorable. A soft yawn escapes her lips as her gaze sweeps over the scene, and when her eyes meet yours, a small, sleepy smile tugs at her mouth.

“Morning, slugger,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep as she pads toward the kitchen island.

You chuckle softly, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. “Morning, princess. Finally decided to join the land of the living?”

She groans, sliding onto a stool and propping her chin in her hand. “Barely. What time is it?”

“Early,” you reply, your tone teasing. “But I figured you’d want breakfast before I head out.”

Her gaze drifts toward the stove, watching the pancake batter sizzle as you pour another ladleful onto the skillet. “Smells amazing,” she says, her lips curving into a lazy grin. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Just doing my duty,” you reply smoothly, sliding a golden pancake onto the growing stack. You glance over your shoulder at her, catching the way she’s watching you—not just the pancakes, but you, with that fond, unguarded look that always catches you off guard.

Yeojin props herself up straighter, reaching for the syrup bottle. “You know,” she says, tilting the bottle with exaggerated precision, “you might be the only reason I eat breakfast at all.”

“Wow, no pressure,” you joke, setting the plate in front of her. “Guess that makes me essential.”

“Obviously,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she picks up her fork. She takes a bite, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets out a pleased hum. “Okay, yeah. Definitely spoiled.”

You smirk, leaning against the counter with your own plate. “It’s part of the package, princess. Breakfast, charm, the occasional rescue from top shelves. What more could you ask for?”

She shoots you a mock glare, though her grin betrays her. “First of all, I could totally reach the top shelf if I tried.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure. With a stepladder.”

Laughing, she tosses a piece of pancake at you, which you dodge easily. “You’re the worst,” she mutters, though her giggles linger as she takes another bite. “And I don’t need you to remind me.”

“Just keeping you humble,” you tease, grabbing a bite of your own. The room falls into a comfortable quiet, the soft clink of silverware filling the space as you both eat.

After a moment, she glances up at you, resting her chin in her hand again. “You know,” she says softly, “you’re kind of unfair.”

You pause mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Unfair? How?”

She gestures at you vaguely with her fork. “This. All of it. Making pancakes, being charming, looking like that in the morning light—”

You laugh, setting your fork down. “Looking like what?”

“You know what I mean,” she mutters, cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” you echo, leaning closer across the counter. “Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t push it,” she says quickly, though the blush spreading across her cheeks gives her away.

Grinning, you lean even closer, resting your elbows on the counter. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Her eyes widen, and she grabs a napkin to hide her face. “Shut up,” she mumbles, though the laughter in her voice is unmistakable.

You chuckle, reaching across to gently tug the napkin away. “Hey, I’m just being honest.”

She narrows her eyes at you, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you reply easily, standing straight again. You glance at the clock, sighing as you grab your cap from the counter. “Alright, I’ve got to head to practice. Can’t keep the team waiting.”

Yeojin’s expression shifts slightly, a mix of playful and reluctant. “You’re leaving already?”

“Unfortunately,” you say, slipping the cap on. “Coach might actually kill me if I’m late again.”

Before you can make it to the door, though, Yeojin hops off her stool and darts toward you, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. “Not so fast,” she says, her voice muffled against your back. “You’re not leaving without a proper goodbye.”

Laughing, you stop mid-step and turn, gently prying her arms loose. Before she can retreat, you scoop her up effortlessly, your hands finding their place beneath her thighs as her legs wrap snugly around your waist. She lets out a surprised laugh, her arms instinctively looping around your neck as you hold her close.

“Better?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, the corners of your mouth lifting into a teasing smile.

She pretends to think about it, her gaze narrowing playfully. “Hmm, almost,” she says, her lips quirking up as she leans in to rest her forehead against yours.

“Almost?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. Without waiting for her reply, you shift slightly and press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Her laughter fades as she melts into the kiss, her arms tightening around your neck as her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. When you finally pull back, your nose brushing hers, you murmur, “How about now?”

Her cheeks flush, and for a moment, she looks speechless. Then she tilts her head, her grin mischievous. “Nope. Not even close,” she says, though the laughter bubbling in her voice gives her away.

“Not even close?” you repeat, feigning disbelief. “I’m starting to think you’re just making excuses.”

“I might be,” she replies, her smile widening. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Instead of answering, you plant a series of quick, playful kisses across her cheeks, forehead, and the tip of her nose. She squeals between giggles, her fingers tightening their grip around your neck as she tries, and fails, to stifle her laughter.

“Okay, okay!” she gasps through her laughter, burying her face into your shoulder. “That’s enough—wait, no, one more.”

You chuckle, tipping her chin up with your thumb. This kiss is slower, deeper, a silent promise in the way your lips linger against hers. When you pull back, her eyes flutter open, her gaze soft and slightly hazy.

“There,” you murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Now are you happy?”

Her voice is quieter this time, but no less teasing. “I don’t know. You might have to remind me again later.”

Laughing, you bounce her slightly in your arms. “You’re something else.”

“And you love it,” she counters, the confidence in her voice making you grin. Then, her expression softens, and she adds, “And I love you.”

The words settle between you, warm and familiar, but they still catch you off guard in the best way. Smiling, you press your forehead to hers. “I love you too.”

For a moment, neither of you moves, the quiet intimacy grounding you in the golden glow of the kitchen. Then, as if sensing the world creeping back in, she gives you a light shove. “Okay, you can go now. But don’t you forget—”

“Let me guess,” you interrupt, smirking as you finally set her down. “Good luck charm?”

“Exactly,” she says, grinning up at you as her feet touch the ground. “You’d be lost without me.”

“Lost, huh?” you tease, brushing another quick kiss against her temple. “Guess that means I’ll have to keep you close.”

She rolls her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks gives her away. “Get out of here before I change my mind about letting you go.”

As you grab your cap and head for the door, her voice stops you in your tracks. “Hey,” she calls out, a playful lilt in her tone, “don’t forget to come back in one piece… because, you know, I sort of love you.”

You pause in the doorway, turning back to meet her gaze. A soft smile spreads across your face, your eyes warm with affection. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady and full of meaning.

Her laughter follows you as you step outside, the sound lingering like the warmth of her touch and the memory of her kiss—a quiet reminder of everything waiting for you when you return.

-----

The way back to her dorm isn’t a quick one, she slips through the gates and into the stillness of the early morning. Her steps are light against the cool floor of the dim hallway, grateful for the quiet that greets her. Tugging at the hem of your shirt, she catches the faintest trace of you on the fabric: a warm blend of syrup, a hint of your cologne, and something uniquely yours. Your scent wraps around her like a whispered promise, bringing a secret smile to her lips, a reminder of your late-night talks, quiet laughter, and the comfortable silences that make her feel close to you, even when miles apart.

As she opens her door and takes a couple of quiet steps, her sneaky return comes to a sudden halt. Hyeju appears, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed, already wearing a smirk that tugs at one corner of her mouth. She raises an eyebrow, her eyes flickering from Yeojin’s face to the oversized shirt she’s wearing. “Well, well, well,” Hyeju drawls, her tone dripping with mockery. “Look who decided to come home.”

Yeojin freezes, her cheeks flushing instantly as warmth creeps up her face. It’s as though she’s been caught mid-crime—which, in a way, she has. Swallowing her nerves, she forces a breezy smile, willing herself to sound casual. “Good morning, Hyeju!” she chirps, her voice unnaturally bright. “You’re up early.”

Hyeju tilts her head, unimpressed. “You mean unlike someone who’s been out all night?” She counters smoothly. Her gaze flicks pointedly to the shirt Yeojin’s clutching at the hem of, and her smirk widens. “So… you wanna explain why you didn’t come back last night? Or should I just take a wild guess?”

Yeojin’s mind scrambles, her blush deepening as she struggles to come up with something halfway believable. “Oh! Uh… I… stayed at the dorm studio!” she blurts out, her voice pitching higher than she intended. “Yeah, you know how I get when I’m in the zone. Lost track of time and figured it was too late to come back.”

“Hmm,” Hyeju says, narrowing her eyes as she steps closer. “The studio, huh? That’s funny, because I don’t remember you taking anything with you to work on.” Her voice drips with mock innocence, but the amused sparkle in her eye gives her away.

Yeojin tugs nervously at the hem of your shirt, glancing down at it like it might provide some magical escape route. “Well, I wasn’t planning to stay all night,” she stammers, trying to salvage her excuse. “But… inspiration hit, you know? And then I, uh, borrowed this to… stay warm.”

“Stay warm,” Hyeju repeats, her lips twitching as though she’s fighting the urge to laugh. “You’re telling me that’s the shirt you grabbed to stay warm?” She gestures at the oversized fabric drowning Yeojin’s frame, clearly unconvinced. “Smells a little… off for studio work, don’t you think? Almost like syrup or… cologne.”

Caught, Yeojin groans softly, her hands flying up in surrender. “Okay, fine! I was out!” she confesses, her words rushing out as she glares half-heartedly at Hyeju. “Are you happy now?”

Hyeju finally lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m not your manager,” she says with exaggerated patience. “But seriously, you might want to work on your excuses. ‘I was at the studio all night’ isn’t gonna fly if someone else asks.”

Yeojin sighs, her shoulders slumping as she nods sheepishly. “I know. I’ll be more careful.”

“Good,” Hyeju replies, stepping back to let Yeojin pass. “Just don’t make it a habit, alright? We wouldn’t want the others—or worse, the manager—getting suspicious.”

Yeojin mumbles a quick thanks before slipping into her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Leaning against it, she lets out a long, breathy sigh, her heart still racing. Her cheeks tingle from the embarrassment of being caught, but there’s a thrill too—a tiny, giddy spark knowing she’d stolen away one last moment with you.

Glancing down at your shirt, she brushes her fingers over the fabric, her smile softening as a secret warmth blooms in her chest. Whatever it took to keep moments like this, she decided, would be worth it.

Later that day, the rehearsal studio buzzes with energy, each corner filled with chatter and laughter as the group warms up. Excitement simmers just below the surface, each member brimming with a mix of focus and joy, until the manager enters, his presence commanding the room’s attention. He claps his hands, breaking into a grin that instantly shifts the room’s energy.

“Ladies, I’ve got news,” he announces, his voice ringing out. “We’ve been invited to perform on opening night for the Kiwoom Heroes… in just four days!” He pauses, his enthusiasm lighting up the room as he continues, “It’s a big opportunity. Let’s make sure we’re in top form!”

The announcement sparks a ripple of excitement among the girls, a mix of gasps and whispered cheers filling the studio as everyone glances at each other in excitement. But for Yeojin, the reaction is different—her heart skips a beat as a surge of nerves and excitement washes over her. Performing on such a big night would be thrilling on its own, but knowing it’s your game, the same field where you’ll be standing, makes it feel that much more special. She tries to keep her expression calm, but inside, her thoughts swirl with anticipation at the chance to perform, knowing you’ll be there to watch.

Beside her, Gowon notices her excitement and nudges her with a sly smile. “Why do you look like you just won the lottery?” she whispers, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

Yeojin forces a casual shrug, desperately trying to keep her tone breezy. “I just… really like baseball,” she replies, hoping she sounds more relaxed than she feels. But her voice betrays a hint of giddiness that she can’t quite mask.

Hyeju stifles a laugh, her gaze twinkling with amusement. “Uh-huh. You like baseball, sure,” she echoes, filling the words with teasing sarcasm.

A blush creeps back into Yeojin’s cheeks as she fiddles with her hair, smiling despite herself at her friends’ knowing looks. Their playful laughter only adds to the thrill of the moment, grounding her in the comfort of their shared camaraderie.

As the rehearsal begins, Yeojin slips into a quiet daydream, her mind drifting toward the image of the stadium on opening night. She pictures the floodlights, the crowd buzzing with excitement, the electric energy pulsing through the field. She imagines catching sight of you in the stands, your familiar smile lighting up as you recognize her among the dancers. Each move she rehearses feels charged with a secret purpose, a quiet hope that you’ll see her there, knowing that her performance is, in some small way, meant for you.

-----

Back at your place, the scent of takeout fills the air as you and Yeojin unpack the bags at the kitchen counter. The crinkle of paper bags and the soft clink of utensils blend with the quiet hum of the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. Yeojin, perched on one of the stools, peers into one of the containers with curiosity, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“You didn’t forget my favorite, right?” she asks, her tone playful as she sets her chopsticks in place.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you reply with a grin, handing her a container. “See? I’ve got you covered.”

Her face lights up as she pops it open, the familiar aroma making her sigh happily. “You’re the best,” she says, taking a bite and humming in satisfaction. “Mm, this is perfect.”

You settle into the stool next to her, digging into your own food. The easy rhythm of eating together fills the space, the kind of quiet intimacy that makes even simple moments like this feel special.

After a few bites, Yeojin glances over at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So,” she begins, her voice playful, “I heard you got the whole story about my water bottle fiasco.”

You smirk, glancing sideways at her. “Oh, I did. Something about turning it into a dramatic fall? Ten out of ten for creativity, by the way.”

She groans, hiding her face in her hands. “Ugh, it was so embarrassing. The girls have been teasing me non-stop.”

You laugh, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “Come on, you’re graceful enough to pull it off.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she replies, lowering her hands and giving you an exaggerated shrug. “I was the picture of elegance. Definitely not face-planting in front of everyone.”

“Right, right,” you tease, taking another bite. “Maybe you should add it to your choreography. Could be the next big thing.”

She tosses a crumpled napkin at you, her laughter spilling out despite herself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are,” you retort, grinning as you dodge the napkin.

The playful banter continues as you finish your food, Yeojin leaning closer with each laugh, her joy infectious. Once the containers are cleared and the counter is wiped down, she hops off her stool and stretches, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

After dinner, the two of you settle onto the couch, a cozy silence enveloping the room. Yeojin tucks her legs under her, leaning lightly against your side as she holds the tub of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. The faint glow of the lamp casts a warm light over the room, reflecting softly off her flushed cheeks.

You nudge her playfully with your elbow, your own spoon in hand. “You’re hogging it,” you tease, nodding toward the ice cream.

“Excuse me?” she says, feigning offense as she takes an exaggerated bite. “I’m pretty sure I earned this for being adorable during dinner.”

You laugh, leaning closer to swipe a small spoonful from the tub before she can protest. “Adorable, huh? I guess I’ll allow it.”

Her giggle is soft as she settles back into your side, the easy rhythm of sharing the ice cream between you making the moment feel effortlessly intimate. She hums contentedly, her head resting lightly on your shoulder as she savors another bite.

After a moment, she shifts slightly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “So,” she begins, her tone playful, “we’re performing at the opening of your game next week.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, and you glance down at her. “Wait, seriously? That’s amazing!” A genuine grin spreads across your face. “I’ll finally get to see you perform live?”

“Yep,” she says, nodding eagerly. “Right there on the field before the game starts. No pressure for you or anything.”

“None at all,” you reply with a chuckle. “Just a stadium full of people, bright lights, and a surprise performance from my girlfriend. Totally low-key.”

She rolls her eyes, lightly swatting your arm. “Anyway,” she says, her voice dropping into a mischievous tone, “I was thinking… maybe I could wear one of your jerseys during the performance.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “One of my jerseys? Don’t you guys usually have custom outfits for this kind of thing?”

She shrugs, taking another bite of ice cream before replying. “Custom outfits are boring. Your jersey would look way cooler.”

You laugh, watching as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, her wide eyes glancing up at you in mock pleading. “Come on,” she says, drawing the word out. “Isn’t it a rule for girlfriends to wear their boyfriends’ jerseys? I’m pretty sure it’s, like, a law or something.”

“Oh, it’s a law now?” you tease, grinning as you take another bite. “What chapter is that in your imaginary handbook?”

“Chapter one,” she says with mock seriousness, nodding sagely. “Rule one. ‘Thou shalt support thy boyfriend by wearing his jersey.’ It’s common knowledge.”

You shake your head, amused. “And what chapter says, ‘Thou shalt not get thy boyfriend in trouble with the entire stadium’?”

She groans dramatically, flopping back against the couch as she tosses the spoon into the empty tub. “Come on! Please? It would look so good! And if anyone asks, I’ll just say you’re my favorite player.”

You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm impossible to resist. “Fine, fine,” you say, setting the empty tub aside and standing. “But if this backfires, it’s all on you.”

She perks up immediately, her smile wide and victorious as you disappear into your room. When you return, you hold out an older jersey, the fabric soft and a little worn. “Here,” you say, handing it to her. “It’s from my rookie year. It’s not fancy, but it’s got some history.”

Her eyes light up as she takes it, her fingers brushing over the fabric. “Rookie year?” she murmurs, slipping it on. The oversized jersey swallows her petite frame, the sleeves hanging far past her hands and the hem brushing her thighs. She stands and gives you a playful twirl. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s about to start rumors,” you tease, stepping closer to adjust the hem slightly. “But also… absolutely adorable.”

Her grin widens, her hands fiddling with the oversized sleeves. “See? I told you it was a good idea.”

Then, as if struck by inspiration, she looks up at you with a glint in her eye. “Wait! You know what would make this even better?”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “What now?”

“Sign it,” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement as she tugs the fabric taut against her chest. Her hand rests lightly over her heart. “Right here. My friends will be so jealous.”

You shake your head in amused disbelief, grabbing a marker from the drawer. “Alright, but if you get in trouble, don’t come crying to me.” You step closer, steadying the fabric where her hand holds it over her heart.

She watches you intently, her smile softening as you lean in. The tip of the marker touches the fabric just above the number, and your name flows neatly, each letter deliberate. Your fingers brush against hers as you finish, the moment quiet but full of meaning.

When you pull back, she gazes down at the jersey, her fingers tracing the letters. A faint blush rises to her cheeks as her lips curve into a tender smile. “Now it’s perfect,” she whispers, looking up at you, her eyes glowing with happiness.

You smile, your hand resting lightly over the spot you just signed. “You’re impossible,” you murmur.

“And you love it,” she replies, her voice playful but filled with affection.

“Yeah,” you admit softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I really do.” You lean in to press a gentle kiss to her temple, the warmth of the moment settling around you both like a blanket.

------

The dressing room buzzes with excitement as Loossemble prepares for the event. Makeup brushes glide across faces, chatter fills the air, and their manager hands out jerseys. “These are for today’s event,” he announces, placing the neatly folded jerseys on the table.

As the girls eagerly grab theirs, Yeojin lingers by her bag, her hand already slipping inside. When the manager notices, he raises an eyebrow. “Yeojin, where’s your jersey?”

She pulls out the jersey you gave her, its fabric worn but comforting, and slips it on over her outfit. “I’ve got my own,” she says casually, smoothing it down.

The room quiets briefly as everyone notices the bold signature scrawled across the chest. Hyeju squints at it, her tone incredulous. “Wait... is that an actual jersey? Like the ones they wear on the field?”

Yeojin shrugs nonchalantly, adjusting the oversized sleeves. “It’s better than the custom ones,” she says simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Hyunjin’s jaw drops. “And it’s signed! Where the heck did you even get that?”

Yeojin gives a knowing smile, her voice calm but playful. “I know someone.”

The room erupts into laughter and teasing. Gowon shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re seriously wearing that? People are going to notice, you know.”

Yeojin smirks, smoothing the fabric with a deliberate motion. “Good. Let them.”

The manager sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t make my life harder, alright?” he mutters, waving them toward the door.

At the stadium, the energy is electric. Fans in team colors flood the concourse, their excited chatter blending with the hum of announcements and the faint thrum of music. The smell of popcorn, grilled food, and sweet treats wafts through the air, adding to the festive atmosphere.

As Loossemble weaves through the bustling crowd, Yeojin suddenly stops in her tracks. Her gaze is drawn to a massive display near the merch shop, and for a moment, she forgets everything else. Your face dominates the wall, frozen mid-pitch, your arm extended in a perfect arc. The intensity and focus in your expression make the image feel almost alive, radiating the determination that’s become synonymous with you.

Around the display, racks of merchandise stretch in every direction—jerseys, caps, posters, and even bobbleheads bearing your name and number. Fans gather eagerly, their voices rising in an excited hum as they sort through the shelves. Yeojin catches fragments of their chatter: your incredible game-winning plays, your record-breaking stats, the way you’ve become the cornerstone of the team’s success. Each word feels like a glowing tribute to you, a celebration of everything you’ve achieved.

Her chest tightens, a surge of pride swelling within her as her fingers brush over the jersey she wears. The fabric is soft and worn, a personal gift that feels more precious now than ever. Her gaze drops briefly to the bold signature resting over her heart, and the simple gesture of your autograph feels profoundly intimate—a reminder of the part of you that belongs only to her.

She’s always known you were talented, but this moment reframes everything. Seeing the sheer scale of admiration for you, the fans clamoring for a piece of the legend you’ve become, is overwhelming. It takes her breath away. The magnitude of what you’ve accomplished hits her fully—how much you’ve given, how hard you’ve worked, and how many people you inspire.

And yet, through all of it, you’ve never stopped making her feel like she’s the center of your world. Whether it’s through the quiet warmth of your smile, a shared joke that only you two understand, or the way your hand naturally finds hers in a crowd, she knows she’s your constant.

Her fingers linger on the jersey’s fabric as she takes it all in. The massive display with your image mid-pitch, larger than life, radiates the determination and intensity that define you. Her heart swells with something deeper than pride—an awe at the balance you manage. With so much of the world demanding a piece of you, you’ve never let her feel less than cherished.

“Wow,” she whispers to herself, her voice barely audible over the chatter around her. Her lips curve into a soft smile as she glances back at the display. There’s no envy in her chest, no insecurity—only gratitude. Gratitude for being the person who gets to witness the side of you that no one else does. She’s the one who sees you at your most vulnerable, your most relaxed, and your most real, and in this moment, that feels like the greatest gift of all.

Now, near the front of the field, they wait for their cue, the girls chatting excitedly about the size of the stadium and the energy of the fans. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey, trying to keep calm despite her racing heart.

But her focus wavers when she catches sight of you warming up nearby with your team. You’re effortlessly precise as you go through your routine, each movement fluid and confident. She can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips as she watches you work—it’s captivating, even from a distance.

Her smile falters, though, when she notices a group of cheerleaders standing just a little too close for comfort. One of them giggles loudly, her gaze fixed on you as she leans in to whisper to her friend. Another brushes her hair back dramatically, giving you a wave that’s anything but subtle. Yeojin’s chest tightens, the pang of jealousy catching her off guard. She knows she has no reason to feel this way, but seeing the way they look at you—the admiration tinged with something more—makes her jaw tighten.

She shifts her weight, crossing her arms as she tries to push the feeling aside. He’s yours, she reminds herself, the memory of your signature on her jersey grounding her. The thought brings a small, determined smile back to her face. Let them look. I’m the one who gets to go home with him.

“Yeojin, what’s got you so serious all of a sudden?” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder with a smirk.

Startled, Yeojin shakes her head quickly, forcing a bright smile. “Huh? Just, uh… getting into the zone,” she replies, though her voice carries a hint of flustered nervousness.

Hyeju raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further, her attention shifting as their manager calls them toward the field.

The stadium’s energy pulses underfoot as the intro notes of their song begins. Thousands of fans pack the stands, their cheers rising in a wave that reverberates through the air. Yeojin takes a deep breath, letting the rhythm of the music settle her nerves. As she steps onto the field with her group mates, the floodlights wash over them, illuminating the entire stadium.

Her eyes instinctively search for you, when she spots you near the dugout, her heart swells. Even from a distance, the pride in your smile is unmistakable, and the way you’re watching her fills her with warmth. It’s a sight that lights something fierce in her chest, a reminder of why she’s here—not just to perform, but to share this moment with you.

Each beat of the choreography feels stronger, every step infused with purpose. The girl’s move in perfect synchronization, their sharp poses and fluid transitions blending seamlessly with the music. Yeojin pours herself into the performance, her smile radiant as she twirls across the field. She can feel the joy of the moment in her bones, every movement carrying a silent message: I’m here, and this is for you.

In the dugout, your teammates notice the way you’re glued to watching her performance. One of them nudges you with a laugh. “Look at you, totally lovestruck,” he teases, jerking his thumb toward the jumbotron. “Come on, Romeo, close your mouth before a fly gets in.”

A flush rises to your cheeks as they rib you mercilessly, but you don’t look away. You can’t. Yeojin’s every move captivates you, as if you’re seeing her dance for the first time. Despite the teasing, all you feel is pride—she’s radiant, every bit the star you know her to be.

Meanwhile, Yeojin catches sight of you on the jumbotron, your flustered expression displayed for all to see. She bites back a laugh, her heart soaring at the exact reaction she’d hoped for. It’s a private moment made public, and the thrill of it fills her with pride. She flicks her gaze toward the screen whenever she can, smiling wider each time she sees you still watching her, your admiration written all over your face.

As the performance builds to its final chorus, Yeojin locks eyes with you for a brief moment. She winks, the gesture small but unmistakable, before finishing the dance with her group, arms raised as the last note rings out.

The stadium erupts into applause, the cheers washing over her like a wave. As Loossemble catches their breath, Yeojin’s heart swells. She can still feel the way her gaze connected with yours, the bond between you two threading itself into every step she took, every smile she shared with the crowd.

When the performance ends, Loossemble exits the field, their faces glowing with post-performance adrenaline. The group gathers near their seats, collapsing into laughter and excited chatter as they relive their favorite moments. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey again, the warmth of your signature over her heart grounding her as the thrill of performing in front of you still buzzes in her chest.

But her friends don’t let her stay quiet for long.

“Yeojin,” Gowon begins, leaning in with a sly grin, her eyes glinting with curiosity, “did you see it?”

“See what?” Yeojin asks innocently, though the flutter in her chest betrays her calm tone.

“That pitcher,” Gowon replies, gesturing towards your area. “You know, the one whose face was glued to you.”

Yeojin freezes, trying to play it cool. “Oh, really?” she replies, her voice just a little too breezy. “I didn’t notice.”

Hyeju snorts, crossing her arms with a smirk. “You didn’t notice? He looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Seriously, Yeojin, the guy clearly has a favorite.”

“He was so obvious!” ViVi chimes in, leaning forward. “And did you see his teammates? They were dying. I swear, if you’d winked at him, he might’ve fainted.”

Yeojin laughs nervously, brushing her hair behind her ear. “He was probably just… impressed with our choreography,” she says, avoiding their knowing looks.

“Oh, sure,” Hyeju replies, rolling her eyes. “Because choreography is what had him staring like that. Not your sparkling personality or, I don’t know, the fact that you’re gorgeous or anything.”

ViVi nudges her, a playful grin spreading across her face. “You should totally go for him, Yeojin. He’s cute—and clearly into you.”

“Very into you,” Gowon agrees, her voice teasing but sincere. “I mean, the man couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d held up a sign that said, ‘Marry me.’”

Yeojin’s cheeks burn, and she quickly busies herself with adjusting her water bottle. “You’re all being ridiculous,” she mutters, though she can’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

“Ridiculous?” ViVi counters. “It’s the perfect opportunity! A cute baseball player, clearly smitten, and you, Miss Limited Edition Signed Jersey over here? It’s fate.”

Yeojin groans, hiding her face behind her hands as the girls burst into laughter around her. “You guys are the worst,” she mumbles, though her voice carries a warmth she can’t quite suppress.

“You love us,” Hyeju says with a grin, leaning back. “But seriously, if you don’t at least say hi to him before we leave, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Yeojin shoots her a wide-eyed look. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Hyeju replies, her smirk growing.

Before Yeojin can respond, the stadium erupts into cheers for the start of the game, giving her the perfect excuse to shift her focus. She sits back, her heart still racing as she sneaks a glance toward the field. When your eyes meet hers across the distance, your proud smile makes her breath catch, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

-----

The stadium is thick with tension—it’s the bottom of the ninth, and your team is clinging to a one-run lead. The electric energy of the crowd feels almost tangible, each cheer and murmur blending into a symphony of anticipation. Yeojin sits on the edge of her seat, her heart pounding as she watches you take the mound. She’s seen you pitch countless times before, but tonight feels different. The determined intensity in your expression, the way you square your shoulders before gripping the ball—it all sends a quiet thrill through her chest.

Her hands clasp tightly together as you take your stance, the ball snug in your glove. The batter steps into the box, and the crowd’s roar crescendos, the pitch count hovering on a razor’s edge. Yeojin’s gaze never leaves you, her chest tightening with each passing second. She watches as you grip the ball, your fingers settling into the seams with practiced precision. The tension is palpable as you wind up, your form a perfect blend of power and control.

Then, it happens.

The ball leaves your hand with a smooth snap, cutting through the air like a bullet. For a brief moment, everything feels suspended, the stadium holding its collective breath as the ball rockets toward the plate. The batter swings. The crack of impact reverberates like a gunshot, and Yeojin’s heart stutters.

A blur of motion. The ball hurtles straight back toward the mound—a split second, no time to think. Your glove snaps up instinctively, the sharp thwack of impact cutting through the noise. The ball deflects away from your head, careening off to the side, but the force staggers you. Your knees hit the dirt, and you slump forward slightly, visibly shaken.

The crowd collectively gasps, the electric energy of the game giving way to a wave of tense murmurs. Yeojin’s breath catches, her chest tightening as she watches you press a hand to your head, your face taut with discomfort. You wave off the trainer jogging toward you, trying to shake it off, but you don’t immediately rise. That’s all it takes for panic to flood her chest. Her fingers tightened around her jersey as her heart pounded as she willed you to stand.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, her voice trembling. Without thinking, she bolts from her seat, ignoring her friends’ surprised calls as she hurries down the stadium steps. Her pulse races with each step, her gaze locked on the bullpen entrance where she knows you’ll be taken.

Yeojin weaves through the throngs of concerned fans until she reaches the edge of the restricted area. A security guard steps forward, shaking his head firmly. “Sorry, miss. You can’t go past this point.”

“Please,” she says urgently, glancing past him toward the dugout. “I just need to see if he’s okay.”

The guard hesitates but doesn’t budge. Desperate, Yeojin moves to the side, craning her neck for any angle that might give her a glimpse of you. Her hands grip the railing tightly, her heart pounding as she finally spots you on the bench. From her vantage point, she can only see part of your profile, but it’s enough to confirm you’re upright, talking to the trainer.

She holds her breath, willing herself not to cry as the tension in her chest lingers. Then, as if sensing her, you glance over your shoulder. Your eyes meet hers, and though your movements are still slow and careful, the small smile you flash her is steady and reassuring. You lift your hand slightly in a subtle wave, a silent message: I’m okay.

Yeojin exhales shakily, her hands loosening their grip on the railing as relief floods her. For a moment, she lingers, her lips curving into a tentative smile in response. Then, with one last glance at you, she turns and heads back toward her seat.

By the time she climbs the steps back to her section, her friends are watching her with curious expressions. “What was that about?” Gowon asks, leaning closer.

Yeojin shrugs, brushing her hair behind her ear as she sits. “I just… wanted to check on him,” she says, keeping her tone casual despite the lingering adrenaline in her veins.

ViVi tilts her head, her lips twitching with a smile. “You’re really invested in this game, huh?”

“Well, he’s their best player,” Yeojin replies, adjusting the hem of your jersey. “Someone has to cheer for him.”

Her friends exchange amused glances but don’t push further, turning their attention back to the game. As the action resumes, Yeojin steals one more glance toward the bullpen. You’re still seated but looking steady now, chatting with the trainer. Relief washes over her as she sees you lean forward, your shoulders squared with resolve, ready to get back in the game.

The tension builds as the final moments unfold, every pitch and swing keeping the crowd on edge. Yeojin clutches at your jersey, her fingers brushing over the warmth of your signature as the last out is made, sealing the win for your team. The stadium erupts into cheers, the roar deafening as your teammates rush the field to celebrate. Her heart swells with pride, the earlier fear eclipsed entirely by admiration for your unwavering strength.

As the stadium begins to empty, Yeojin practically drags her friends down toward the field, her excitement bubbling over as she skips ahead. Her friends trail behind, exchanging confused but curious glances at her sudden burst of enthusiasm.

“Where are you going?” Gowon calls after her, struggling to keep up.

“Just come on!” Yeojin replies, glancing over her shoulder with a wide grin. Her pulse quickens as she spots you waiting in the dugout, scanning the thinning crowd until your gaze lands on her.

The moment your eyes meet, a bright smile spreads across your face, and without hesitation, Yeojin takes off across the field. Her friends stop in their tracks, staring as she runs straight to you, leaping into your arms with a joyful squeal. You catch her effortlessly, lifting her as if she weighs nothing, holding her close as she plants a quick, happy kiss on your cheek.

The group stands frozen, their eyes wide as they process what they’re seeing.

“Wait… did she just…” Gowon begins, her voice trailing off.

“Did she just run up and kiss him?” Hyeju whispers, glancing between you and Yeojin as if trying to confirm she’s not imagining things.

Their confusion grows as you set Yeojin gently back on the ground, your arm staying casually draped over her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s grinning ear to ear, clearly unfazed by the scene she’s caused.

With a soft chuckle, you greet her friends, your easy smile and warm demeanor making their stunned expressions all the more amusing. Finally, Gowon snaps out of it, blinking rapidly before giving Yeojin a teasing smirk.

“Okay, not to be dramatic,” she says, motioning toward you, “but… what the actual fuck?”

The rest of the group bursts into laughter, ViVi adding, “Seriously, Yeo-jin, care to explain how this happened?”

Yeojin fidgets slightly, her blush deepening as she looks between you and her friends. “What do you mean?” she asks, playing innocent. “He’s… just my boyfriend.”

“Just?” Gowon repeats, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You’ve been holding out on us! You could’ve mentioned you were dating a literal star player!”

“Speaking of which,” ViVi cuts in, her eyes widening as she looks up at you, “how tall are you, exactly?”

“198,” you reply with a grin, clearly amused by their reactions.

They all turn to Yeojin, who crosses her arms with a mock huff. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m short. You’ve all said it before,” she says, though her proud smile betrays her.

“You’re not just short,” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder. “Next to him, you’re basically pocket-sized. It’s kind of adorable.”

Yeojin groans, rolling her eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Hyunjin steps closer, her curiosity lighting up her expression. “So…” she begins, hesitating for a moment. “Would it be weird if we, uh, tested something?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hmm?”

She motions toward your arms. “I’ve always wanted to try hanging off someone super strong. You look like you could handle it.”

Yeojin shoots her a look, but you laugh, glancing at your girlfriend for permission. She sighs, muttering, “Fine, but don’t break him.”

With a grin, you extend your arms, and Hyunjin and ViVi eagerly grab on, giggling as they dangle from you like children on a jungle gym. You lift them effortlessly, even spinning slightly for effect, earning cheers and laughter from the rest of the group.

“Whoa… He’s actually doing it,” Hyeju says, her tone full of admiration. “You’ve got some serious strength.”

Yeojin, however, watches with narrowed eyes, her smile fading slightly. Finally, she steps forward, hands on her hips. “Alright, that’s enough,” she says, her voice firm but playful. “Let him go.”

The girls reluctantly release your arms, laughing as they exchange amused glances. But before you can lower them fully, Yeojin leaps up, wrapping herself around you with a little huff. She locks her legs around your waist, grinning triumphantly as she turns to her friends. “This is my spot,” she declares, sticking out her tongue.

The group dissolves into laughter, though their teasing glances don’t go unnoticed. “Possessive much?” Gowon quips, shaking her head with a smirk.

You chuckle, leaning down to murmur softly in Yeojin’s ear, “Didn’t know you got jealous so easily.”

Yeojin pouts, looking up at you with a small smile. “Can’t help it,” she whispers back. “You’re mine.”

The group exchanges whispered comments, their curiosity and amusement clear. But Yeojin doesn’t care. As you hold her close, the warmth of your embrace and the quiet pride in her heart remind her that no amount of teasing could take away what you two share.

-----

As the door clicks shut behind you, Yeojin spins around with a playful glint in her eyes, arms folded in mock defiance. Her cheeks are still flushed from the night’s excitement, but there’s something else now—a spark of mischief that makes her gaze dance in the dim light.

“You know,” she begins, taking a slow step closer, her voice teasing, “you owe me for making me jealous tonight.”

Leaning back against the door, you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, do I?” you ask, your tone light but edged with challenge.

She nods, feigning seriousness, though the smile pulling at her lips betrays her amusement. “Letting those girls hang all over you like that… What was that about?” Her hands go to her hips as she tilts her head, her mock indignation only making her look more endearing.

You chuckle, leaning forward just enough to bring your face level with hers. “If I remember right, you gave me permission, and…” you murmur, your voice dropping slightly, “you were the one climbing me like a tree afterward. I think you made your point pretty clear.”

Yeojin bites her lip, the blush on her cheeks deepening, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she loops her arms around your neck, her smile turning sly. “I’m not so sure,” she replies, her tone soft but teasing. “You might have to work a little harder to make it up to me.”

You slide your hands around her waist, pulling her closer until the space between you is nonexistent. “Alright,” you say, your voice a low murmur, “I’ll bite. How exactly am I supposed to make it up to you, hmm?”

Yeojin hums thoughtfully, as if considering her options, before gently nudging you toward the couch. Her hands stay light on your chest as she guides you, her steps deliberate yet playful. Once you’re seated, she settles onto your lap, her small frame fitting perfectly into your arms. The soft weight of her against you sends a warmth coursing through your chest as her hands slide up to rest lightly on your shoulders.

“For starters,” she whispers, leaning in close, her lips hovering just shy of yours, “you could promise I’m the only one who gets to cling to you like that.”

Her breath brushes your skin, teasing as her words hang in the air. You meet her gaze, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Done,” you whisper back, your voice soft but sure. And then, without hesitation, you close the space, capturing her lips in a kiss that starts slow and sweet, her warmth melting into you. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world disappear, leaving only the quiet intensity between you.

As her fingers trail lightly along your chest, Yeojin pulls back just enough to speak, her voice barely above a murmur. “And you can start by spoiling me a little more,” she teases, her playful tone returning as her fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt.

Your low chuckle vibrates against her, and you tilt your head slightly, your thumb grazing her cheek. “You don’t even have to ask, princess,” you reply, your words carrying a weight that lingers between you.

The air shifts, the laughter between you fading into something quieter, warmer. Yeojin’s breath hitches as she looks up at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before her hands find their way to your shirt. Slowly, her fingertips trace along your chest before she lifts the fabric, pulling it up and over your shoulders with deliberate grace, her movements unhurried as if savoring the moment.

Your hand slides to her waist, steadying her as you guide her closer, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. Her breath catches as your touch skims bare skin, her body reacting instinctively to your warmth. You take your time, letting the fabric rise slowly, your gaze locked on hers, the air between you thick with anticipation. When her shirt finally falls to the floor, she exhales softly, her blush deepening as she feels your hands settle on her sides, grounding her.

Yeojin’s hands find their way to your belt, her touch sure but deliberate as her eyes flick up to yours, silently asking permission. You nod, your smirk softening into something more intimate, and she works the buckle loose before tugging the fabric free. You follow her lead, your fingers trailing down to the waistband of her jeans. Her breathing quickens as you unfasten the button, your movements steady as you guide them down, leaving them to pool at her feet.

When you straighten, your hands find the curve of her hips, your touch firm but reverent as her own hands lift to your waist, slipping beneath the edge of your pants to push them down with a gentle insistence. As the last of the fabric falls away, the space between you seems to hum, the night’s earlier excitement replaced by a quiet, electric intensity.

The room feels smaller now, the air charged as you take each other in—skin to skin, your gazes holding steady. Yeojin leans into you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as her lips find yours, the kiss deep and unhurried, a promise that lingers between you. The warmth of her body against yours ignites something that words can’t capture, leaving the rest of the night open, unwritten, and entirely yours.

Without a word, you lean down, your arms securing her tightly as you lift her effortlessly, her body fitting snugly against your chest. Yeojin gasps softly, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist, her arms clinging to your shoulders as she feels the full strength of your hold. The contrast between your broad, solid frame and her smaller stature sends a shiver of exhilaration through her—she feels weightless in your grasp, as if gravity itself bends to your will.

Her heart races as your hands shift, gripping her thighs firmly. In one smooth, fluid motion, you flip and lower her upside down, her thighs draping over your powerful shoulders. Her body hangs securely, her soft skin brushing against your neck while your steady grip keeps her firmly in place. The sheer size of you against her height makes her feel both delicate and cherished, a thrill sparking through her as she adjusts to the new position.

Suspended in your grasp, Yeojin’s breath catches as her lips find the warmth of your skin. The firmness of your muscles under her mouth sends a pulse of excitement through her, and she can’t help but press soft kisses there, each touch drawing a sharp, appreciative inhale from you. Her hands steady themselves against your hips, her small fingers gripping the solid expanse of your body for balance.

As you lean forward, your mouth finds her with an unrestrained hunger that takes her breath away. The first touch of your tongue sends a bolt of pleasure straight through her, and she trembles, her body instinctively pressing closer to you. Each movement of your tongue feels electric, worshiping her with a precision that makes her toes curl.

The smoothness of your skin against her inner thighs complements the warmth and wetness of your mouth, the sensations blending into an intoxicating mix that leaves her gasping. Her body trembles, her thighs pressing against your neck as her hips buck involuntarily in response to your ministrations. You grip her thighs tighter, spreading her open as you delve deeper, your tongue moving with insatiable fervor. Each stroke pulls a new, breathy cry from her lips, her whimpers of pleasure filling the room, echoing with the raw intimacy shared between you.

At the same time, Yeojin’s lips part around your length, taking you eagerly into her mouth. The sheer weight of you, the fullness stretching her jaw, makes her thighs quiver as she works to please you. Her tongue moves eagerly, tracing every ridge and vein as her lips slide along your shaft. The salty taste of precum teases her, a reminder of the effect she has on you, fueling her determination to take you deeper.

But as your tongue finds that sensitive spot within her, her resolve falters. A sharp moan escapes her lips, vibrating around you as her hips grind instinctively against your face. She fights to refocus, her cheeks hollowing as she takes you in again, but the sensations you’re drawing from her are relentless. Your tongue presses into her with precision, and her breath catches as you graze her most sensitive spot. Her movements falter, her concentration breaking as she’s overwhelmed by pleasure.

When your length brushes the back of her throat, her body jolts, her gasp muffled against you. The stretch leaves her momentarily breathless, her fingers tightening on your hips as she tries to keep pace. “Oh—” she tries to gasp, but the sounds dissolve into helpless moans, each vibration against you spurring you on. Her attempts to regain control falter again as your tongue moves deeper, coaxing another cry from her lips.

The slick, rhythmic sounds of your connection fill the room, blending with her muffled moans and your low, guttural groans. Her arousal drips onto your skin, her body trembling uncontrollably as her pleasure builds. “God, you’re amazing,” you murmur against her, your voice thick with sincerity. Your hands flex against her thighs, your grip firm and possessive as you hold her steady, your tongue stroking deeper and more deliberately.

Yeojin’s cries grow desperate as her body tightens around you, her legs trembling against your shoulders. The tension in her core builds steadily, each flick of your tongue pushing her closer to the edge. Her breath catches in sharp gasps, her body quaking with anticipation. She clutches at your hips for stability, but her movements grow erratic as she loses herself in the sensations.

When your fingers dig into her soft thighs, anchoring her even closer, the tension snaps. “Ahh—oh my god!” she screams, her voice trembling as her climax hits her with breathtaking force. Her entire body stiffens, her walls spasming uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crash through her. You hold her tightly, your grip unyielding as you press her against you, your tongue working her through every pulse of her release.

Her hips buck against your face, her cries echoing in the room as her orgasm overtakes her completely. She clings to your hips for dear life, her hands shaking as her body surrenders to the intensity. “I can’t… oh my god, I can’t,” she whimpers, the words tumbling out as the aftershocks ripple through her. Each tremor leaves her breathless, her thighs quivering as you continue your unrelenting ministrations.

Finally, her body goes limp in your grasp, her head falling forward as she struggles to catch her breath. You shift slightly, adjusting your hold to keep her steady, your touch gentle but still possessive. Her soft whimpers fill the quiet, her entire being humming with the aftermath of her release.

When she finally lifts her head, her cheeks are flushed, her mascara streaked slightly, but her smile is radiant. “You’re unbelievable,” she whispers, her voice trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You chuckle softly, pressing a lingering kiss to her thigh. “That’s just the beginning,” you murmur, the promise in your tone making her shiver anew.

Still trembling from the earlier intensity, Yeojin lets out a soft gasp as you flip her to her feet, guiding her back to you with firm hands. Her body pressed flush against your chest, her soft skin warm and inviting. Without hesitation, you grip her firmly, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion. Her legs dangle freely, toes brushing against your thighs as you hold her up by her breasts, your large hands cradling her delicate frame.

The weightlessness leaves her breathless, a shiver coursing through her as she realizes how completely you’re holding her. Your fingers curl around her sensitive nipples, squeezing gently, your thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks. Each touch draws a soft whimper from her lips, her body responding to every deliberate motion. “You’re so small,” you murmur, your voice low and rough against her ear. “I love how you fit perfectly in my hands.”

Her breath hitches at your words, and a thrill races through her at the sheer size and strength you exude. She feels utterly enveloped by you, each motion a reminder of how easily you carry her. “I love it too,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “Please… I need you.”

You don’t make her wait. Adjusting your grip to pull her closer, you angle her hips, lining yourself up with her slick heat. The first thrust is deliberate and deep, burying yourself fully inside her in one swift motion. Her head falls back, a sharp cry escaping her lips. “Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice breaking as her body stretches to accommodate you. The overwhelming sensation of being filled leaves her trembling in your grasp.

“Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your fingers flexing against her breasts as you begin to move. “You’re so tight… so fucking perfect.”

Her legs sway with each powerful thrust, the motion making her feel completely at your mercy. Her walls pulse around you, gripping you tightly as she whimpers, “Yes… so good. So full.” Her voice is breathless, her hands reaching up to clutch at your arms, her nails lightly raking over your skin as she struggles to steady herself.

Your hands knead her breasts as you pick up the pace, your thumbs circling and pinching her sensitive peaks. The added stimulation sends shivers down her spine, her body arching instinctively in your hold. “You feel that, princess?” you murmur against her ear, your voice thick with desire. “Feel how deep I am inside you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her back arching as the sensations flood her body. “I love it… love how you fill me.”

Her hands drop to her stomach, her fingers pressing lightly against her skin as if trying to ground herself. She gasps when she feels you pushing in and out of her, the motion resonating deep within. “I can feel you,” she whispers, her voice a mixture of awe and pleasure. “So deep…”

The sensation intensifies as your grip tightens, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of her breasts. Each movement becomes more deliberate, your thrusts deepening as you shift her slightly, driving her backward with every motion to meet your hips. The angle changes, and a sharp gasp rips from her throat as you hit the spot that sends jolts of electric pleasure through her. Her legs quiver in the air, her head tilting back as her body struggles to process the overwhelming sensation, her cries growing louder with every deliberate thrust.

“That’s it,” you growl, your voice low and rough, your rhythm relentless as her walls clench around you. “Right there. You feel me, don’t you? Taking you exactly how you need.”

“Yes, yes!” she cries, her voice trembling with desperation. Her body melts into your hold, entirely weightless as she surrenders to the intensity. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

Her moans grow erratic, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your connection filling the room, mingling with your labored breaths. Every powerful thrust pushes her closer to the edge, the sheer force of your movements making her tremble uncontrollably. Your fingers tug and pinch at her nipples, her cries of pleasure growing louder with each twist of your touch.

“You’re mine,” you growl, your words reverberating against her skin as you press your lips to her neck. “Every inch of you. You’re mine.”

Her legs quiver as her head falls forward, her breathing ragged. “Yes,” she moans, her voice trembling. “I’m yours. All yours.”

Your pace quickens, each thrust deep and precise, driving her to a fever pitch as her body arches and tightens around you. The sharp cries escaping her lips tell you everything you need to know—she’s right on the edge, completely lost in the ecstasy of your touch.

The relentless depth of your thrusts drives her higher and higher as her cries grow desperate and her body tightens around you. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice barely more than a whimper. “Please… I’m so close.”

You shift slightly, angling her hips to plunge even deeper, your thrusts growing harder and faster, each motion sending sparks of pleasure coursing through her. Her trembling becomes uncontrollable, her breaths ragged as the tension builds to an unbearable height. Her fingers clutch desperately at your forearms, her nails biting into your skin as if anchoring herself to reality. Her cries escalate, breaking into frantic gasps as her body teeters precariously on the edge.

“Fuck—there!” she screams, her voice raw and shattering as her climax slams into her with devastating force. Her entire body convulses, her head falling forward onto your shoulder as her muscles give way, leaving her completely limp in your hands. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes through her, her walls clenching around you with an intensity that borders on overwhelming. Each pulsation grips you tighter, pulling you impossibly deeper into her heat, her body trembling violently as she lets out a series of breathless, broken cries.

But you don’t let up. Your grip on her tightens, your hands steadying her trembling frame as you continue to thrust, your movements deliberate and unrelenting. Each motion draws out her climax, prolonging the intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through her. Her head tilts back, her mouth falling open as her voice becomes high-pitched and fractured, her overstimulated body writhing uncontrollably against you.

“Too much—oh my god!” she whimpers, her words tumbling out in gasping fragments. Yet, despite her plea, her hips betray her, instinctively rocking to meet yours, the overwhelming sensation mingling with an insatiable, desperate need. Her body quivers in your hold, the aftershocks colliding with your unyielding rhythm, and her cries blend into the sound of skin meeting skin, her sensitivity turning into a heady, all-consuming bliss.

And then it happens, before the first climax fully fades, another builds, the relentless friction and fullness pushing her straight into a second wave. Her entire body stiffens in your grasp, her head snapping back against your shoulder as the overwhelming sensation tears through her. “I’m cumming again!” she cries, her voice a mix of shock and unrestrained ecstasy. Her walls flutter violently around you, each contraction milking every inch of you as she tumbles headlong into a second, earth-shattering release.

Her cries of pleasure become incoherent, her body melting further into your hands as her climax washes over her in crashing waves. The slick heat of her arousal coats you, and the rhythmic clenching around your length pulls you closer to your own edge. “Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your thrusts growing erratic as the heat in your core builds to an unbearable peak.

With a guttural moan, you pull her as close as possible, burying yourself fully inside her as your release hits like an unstoppable wave. Each pulse surges deep within her, a searing heat spreading through her core as you fill her completely. Her body responds instantly, trembling violently as her walls spasm around you, clutching you tighter with every throb of your release. The fullness overwhelms her, sending her into a frenzy of sensation, her breaths hitching into sharp, uneven gasps.

“Oh my god,” she cries, her voice trembling as her body convulses. The sensation of being filled so completely pushes her to another peak, her climax gripping her with renewed intensity. Her walls flutter uncontrollably, their rhythmic contractions pulling you deeper, as if her body is desperate to claim every drop. The pulsing heat between you draws out her pleasure in endless waves, her cries raw and unrestrained.

Your hands find her breasts, kneading them gently, your fingers brushing against her taut, sensitive peaks. The sensation only amplifies her ecstasy, her head lolling weakly against your shoulder as she rides out the unrelenting pleasure. Her body feels weightless in your hold, trembling as the aftershocks ripple through her.

As your release continues to surge, your legs falter under the sheer intensity of the moment. “Fuck…” you groan, your voice rough and shaky as your knees buckle. Losing your balance, you stumble forward, collapsing onto the bed with her still pressed tightly against you. The added weight presses you deeper into her, burying you to the hilt in a way that neither of you is prepared for.

The effect is immediate. The sudden depth makes her cry out, a sharp, high-pitched squeal tearing from her lips as her overstimulated body is driven into another powerful climax. Her thighs quake uncontrollably, her back arching against you as the intensity consumes her entirely. “Ahh—FUCK!” she screams, her voice shaking as her body bucks beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Her walls clamp down hard, the rhythmic pulsations drawing every last ounce of your release into her. Each spasm feels impossibly tight, pulling at you with relentless force, her cries dissolving into incoherent moans as the pleasure overtakes her completely. Her hands claw at the sheets, her knuckles white as her body convulses, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

The deep, intimate pressure of your release combined with the weight of your body pinning her down prolongs her climax, leaving her utterly lost in the moment. Each pump reignites her sensitivity, her oversaturated nerves sending jolts of pleasure through her as if she’s trapped in a cycle of ecstasy. “I can’t—oh my god, I can’t!” she gasps, her voice broken as her body jerks uncontrollably in your grasp.

Her second climax stretches on, each wave crashing harder than the last, leaving her trembling violently. The combination of your warmth spilling into her, the unrelenting depth, and the closeness of your bodies becomes an intoxicating overload. Her cries turn into soft, breathless whimpers, her body spent yet still clinging to the aftershocks, as though it doesn’t want the moment to end.

You hold her tightly, your hands cupping her breasts as you knead them gently, grounding her in your embrace. “You’re amazing,” you murmur, your voice thick with awe as you press soft kisses to her shoulder. Your body stills, but the weight of you keeps her anchored, every lingering contraction pulling you closer as you both ride out the final moments of bliss.

When the intensity finally begins to ebb, her body goes completely limp beneath you, her breathing shallow and uneven as she shivers against the mattress. Her warmth presses against you, and you instinctively shift to avoid putting too much weight on her, but you don’t pull away. Your chest remains flush against her back, your arms wrapped protectively around her waist as the lingering tremors of her release ripple through her.

“Are you okay?” you murmur softly, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear, the tenderness in your tone grounding her.

She nods weakly, her voice barely audible as she lets out a soft, breathless sigh. “That was… oh my god, that was… the best,” she murmurs, her words trailing off as the aftershocks continue to course through her. Her cheeks are deeply flushed, her skin glistening with a sheen of effort and ecstasy. When she tilts her head slightly to glance up at you, her eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed with a dreamy, dazed expression. She looks utterly spent yet so full of contentment that it makes your chest ache with affection.

“Not going to argue with that,” you reply, a soft chuckle escaping as you brush a damp strand of hair from her face. “That was… something else.”

As you begin to shift, intending to pull away, her hand suddenly presses against yours, her fingers curling weakly around your arm. “Wait,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “Just… stay. Just for a little while.”

You pause, the words stirring something deep within you. Nodding silently, you settle back against her, letting your weight ground her as you both bask in the afterglow. The intimacy of the moment feels infinite, your breathing slowly syncing as the world outside seems to dissolve.

Minutes pass, the quiet punctuated only by the faint hum of your synchronized breaths and her occasional whimpers as the lingering aftershocks ripple through her body. She remains still beneath you, her trembling legs unable to support her fully, as if the weight of the moment has left her boneless.

When you finally begin to pull out, it’s with deliberate care, your movements slow and tender, your hand resting on her lower back to steady her. The moment you leave her, she gasps softly, her body instinctively clenching at the sudden emptiness. A high-pitched whimper escapes her lips, her voice trembling with raw emotion as her body quivers in response.

“No…” she whines softly, her forehead pressing against the mattress as her fingers weakly clutch the sheets for stability. The loss seems almost unbearable, a hollow ache that fills the void you’ve left behind. “I’m so full but… I feel so empty,” she murmurs, her words laced with both longing and exhaustion.

Your eyes lower, taking in the sight of your release threatening to spill from her, glistening as it lingers at her entrance. The sight stirs something protective and possessive in you, a reminder of the connection you’ve just shared. Reaching out gently, you press a soothing kiss to the curve of her shoulder, your hand rubbing gentle circles along her back. “I’ve got you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth as you pull her closer into your embrace. She melts into you again, her soft, spent body fitting perfectly against yours.

The world outside feels distant, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping you both in a cocoon of warmth and trust. Neither of you speaks, the gentle rhythm of your synchronized breaths the only sound, as her body fully relaxes in your arms.

Eventually, Yeojin stirs slightly, her head lifting just enough to mumble, “We’re… such a mess.” Her voice is barely audible, her words trailing off as her eyes flutter shut again.

You laugh softly, your hands trailing down her back in soothing strokes. “You’re not wrong,” you admit, glancing down at the tousled strands of hair sticking to her damp skin and the faint sheen that glistens over you both. “How about we clean up?”

She groans softly, her arms tightening weakly around your neck. “I don’t think I can move,” she admits, her voice tinged with a mixture of humor and genuine fatigue. “You’ll have to do everything.”

“Deal,” you reply with a grin, scooping her up effortlessly. She lets out a soft gasp, but it’s quickly followed by a quiet, sleepy giggle as she leans her head against your shoulder, her arms draping limply around your neck.

The bathroom fills with soft steam as you adjust the shower, the warm spray cascading down and curling around you both. Yeojin shivers slightly in your arms as you guide her under the water, her body slumping gently against you. She tilts her head back, letting the spray soak her hair and trail down her delicate frame. A contented sigh escapes her lips as the water warms her skin, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Her small hands rest lightly on your chest, her grip loose and trusting. “You’re too good to me,” she murmurs, her voice soft and dreamy.

“You make it easy,” you reply, brushing your lips against her temple. The water streams around you both, and her body sags further against yours, her trust in your care palpable as you hold her steady.

“Let me take care of you,” you say gently, brushing a damp strand of hair from her flushed face. She nods weakly, her trust in you evident as she allows you to guide her closer to the stream. The water trails down her body, glistening over her soft curves as she lets out a quiet, contented sigh.

You reach for the shampoo, lathering it between your hands before carefully working it into her hair. Your fingers move in slow, soothing circles, massaging her scalp with deliberate care. She hums softly, her head tilting forward slightly, her balance wavering as she leans heavily into your chest.

“Relax,” you murmur, holding her steady with one hand on her waist. “I’ve got you.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, her eyes closing as she lets herself melt into your touch. The soft hum of the water surrounds you both, a cocoon of warmth and quiet intimacy. As you rinse her hair, guiding the water to wash away the suds, her small hands rest limply against your arms, her fingers curling weakly as if to hold onto you.

When her hair is clean, you reach for the body wash, lathering it onto your hands. Gently, you trail your palms over her shoulders and down her arms, your touch light but thorough. “You’re so good to me,” she murmurs, her voice slurred with exhaustion and affection. Her head rests against your chest, her breaths shallow but steady.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You deserve it,” you reply, your tone low and full of warmth.

As your hands move lower, gliding over her back and across her sides, you notice the slight quiver in her legs. “Can you stand, or should I hold you up?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern.

She shakes her head weakly, her hands clutching at your arms. “Just… hold me,” she whispers, her tone almost pleading.

Without hesitation, you slide your arm around her waist, pulling her closer to steady her. Your other hand continues its careful work, trailing down to her thighs. Her breath hitches as your fingers glide over the inside of her thighs, your touch gentle but deliberate. You shift slightly, intending to clean her thoroughly, but the moment your hand moves higher, she weakly stops you, her small fingers curling around your wrist.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “I… want to keep it. Please.”

Your chest tightens at her words, the intimacy of the moment stealing your breath. You lower your hand immediately, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice thick with affection. “Anything you want.”

She relaxes again in your hold, her trust and vulnerability filling the space between you with a quiet intensity. You adjust her slightly, resuming your gentle attention elsewhere, ensuring she feels cared for without pushing her boundaries.

As the water rinses her skin, you feel the last remnants of tension leave her body, replaced by a deep, bone-deep relaxation. Her head lolls to the side, her cheek resting against your chest as she exhales softly, her lips brushing against your skin.

“Almost done,” you whisper, your hand trailing down her legs one final time. The warmth of the water and the tenderness of the moment seem to lull her further, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets herself lean fully into your support.

When you’re finished, you turn off the shower and wrap her in a fluffy towel, lifting her effortlessly as her arms drape over your shoulders. “You’re spoiling me,” she murmurs sleepily, her voice muffled against your neck.

“Good,” you reply, pressing a kiss to the crown of her damp hair. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Her cheeks flush deeper, but she doesn’t argue, simply burying her face against you as you carry her out of the bathroom. Once back in the bedroom, you set her down gently, sitting her on the edge of the bed as you begin to dry her hair with the towel.

Her head tilts forward slightly, her eyes half-closed as you fuss over her. “Okay, enough,” she protests weakly, though the softness in her voice and the tiny smile on her lips betray her affection for your care. “I can do it myself.”

“Not yet,” you reply with a grin, continuing to gently rub the towel over her damp hair. “You’re still half asleep, and I don’t trust you not to just fall over.”

She lets out a small laugh, her shoulders relaxing further as you work. Once her hair is mostly dry, you hand her the towel to finish the rest. “Keep going,” you tell her gently, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be right back.”

Stepping away, you pull the rumpled covers from the bed, stripping the sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. The soft fabric feels cool under your fingers as you smooth the corners, ensuring everything is perfect for her. The faint scent of lavender from the new sheets fills the air, adding to the calm, cozy atmosphere.

By the time you return, Yeojin is still perched on the edge of the bed, her towel loosely draped around her shoulders. She looks up at you with sleepy, affectionate eyes, her small frame practically folding into itself as she waits.

“All done,” you announce with a soft smile, lifting the fresh blankets and gesturing for her to crawl in. She doesn’t need any prompting, slipping under the covers with a contented sigh as you slide in beside her.

Immediately, she shifts closer, curling into your chest as you drape your arm over her waist. Her small body fits perfectly against yours, and you gently pull her closer, resting your chin lightly on the top of her head. Her fingers trace absentminded patterns on your forearm as the warmth of her frame melts into yours.

“This is nice,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your chest.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You’re perfect like this.”

The quiet comfort of the moment stretches out as her breathing slows, her body relaxing fully against yours. You think she might have drifted off when she stirs slightly, her fingers tightening their grip on your arm.

“What’s up?” you ask, glancing down at her.

She hesitates for a moment, her cheeks visibly pink even in the dim light. “I… I want to hold you,” she whispers, her voice small but certain.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, but your heart swells at the sincerity in her words. A smile tugs at your lips as you gently nudge her chin so she looks up at you. “You want to switch?” you ask playfully, your voice tinged with affection.

She nods shyly, her gaze darting away before meeting yours again. “I just… I want to,” she murmurs, her tone vulnerable but earnest. “Please?”

You chuckle softly and roll onto your back, your arm slipping under her shoulders to guide her over. “Alright, princess,” you reply warmly, settling her partially on top of you.

Yeojin wastes no time, shifting until her body molds into yours, her chest pressing against your side as her arms drape over you. One leg slides over your waist, her knee hooking securely against your hip as if anchoring herself in place.She presses into you, her cheek nestles against your shoulder as she sighs contentedly.

Her fingers rest lightly against your chest, occasionally twitching as if trying to hold onto you tighter. “This feels good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with drowsy affection. “I just wanted to… be close to you.”

You smile softly, your hand finding its way to her back, brushing gentle circles over her skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” you reply, your tone low and soothing.

She shifts slightly, her lips brushing against your shoulder in a sleepy kiss. The tender gesture makes your chest tighten with warmth, though her attempt is interrupted when she sputters suddenly, pulling back with a small groan. “Bitter soap!” she mumbles, her voice full of sleepy indignation.

You laugh quietly, your fingers trailing up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s on you for sneaking a taste,” you tease gently.

She huffs playfully, burying her face into your shoulder as her arms tighten around you. “I don’t care. I’m not moving,” she mutters stubbornly, her words muffled against your skin.

“Good,” you reply with a grin, pulling the blanket higher over both of you. “Stay right there.”

Her breathing slows as her body fully relaxes into yours, the warmth and weight of her slight frame grounding you both. Even as sleep claims her, her leg stays draped over your waist, her fingers resting limply on your chest as if to remind you she’s still there.

Under the fresh covers, surrounded by the calm intimacy of the moment, you let your own eyes drift closed. The world outside fades, leaving just the quiet sound of her breaths and the steady beat of her heart against your side as you both sink into peaceful slumber, perfectly entwined.

[supernotnatural2005]

Sexual Encounters with Dean Winchester - Fantasy

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Exploring kinks with Dean.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings/tags: Smut! (18+), Car wash, Dean's baby cleaning his baby 😜, semi public sex, fluff, swearing, dirty talk, established relationship.

AN: Another one to add to this Kinky-ass series 😅, it was an idea that just came to me and was fun to explore! I hope you guys like this one 💕

Main Masterlist

SEDW Masterlist

The summer heat hung thick in the air at the Salvage Yard. The scent of oil, rust, and sunbaked metal mixing with the warm breeze. Rows of old, abandoned cars stretched across the yard, their hoods popped open like gaping mouths, skeletons of machines long past their prime. 

Bobby’s house stood sturdy and weathered in the centre of it all, with its wraparound porch that held so much history and too many late-night whiskey-fuelled conversations. The old barn loomed in the distance, its doors slightly ajar, housing Bobby’s collection of spare parts, weapons, and God knows what else.

It was quiet now—eerily so. Sam and Bobby had taken off for a supply run, leaving you and Dean alone. And while he was inside tinkering with something—probably cleaning one of his guns for the fifth time today—you were outside, preparing a little surprise.

Dean had let slip a couple of nights ago—after a few celebratory drinks of another case done and dealt with, at the local dive in town— that he had a fantasy. Not some ordinary, run-of-the-mill kink. No, something that was more personal to him. 

His girl, washing his Baby. 

He’d gone into great detail how nothing could be hotter—his two greatest loves, together, covered in soap and water.

And who were you to deny him this fantasy?

Smirking to yourself, you dragged an old radio from the garage, setting it down on the workbench. You placed the cassette tape, you’d dug out of Dean’s box of his beloved tapes, into the compartment and with a flick of the volume dial to the max, the opening chords of Pour Some Sugar on Me blasted through the humid afternoon, cutting through the quiet.

It wasn’t 30 seconds later, the screen door was creaking open.

“The hell?” Dean’s voice floated out, rough with confusion. You didn’t turn to look just yet. You knew exactly what was about to happen.

You dipped the oversized sponge into the bucket of warm, soapy water, wringing it out just enough before gliding it over the hood of the Impala. The sun gleamed off the wet metal, tiny rivulets of water dripping down the sleek black curves of Baby’s body. You bit your lip, pretending to be completely unaware of the way Dean had stopped dead in his tracks.

When you did glance up, you found him standing there, frozen on the back porch, his entire expression comically dumbstruck.

His jaw had quite literally dropped.

A slow, wicked smirk pulled at your lips. Oh, yeah. You had him.

You gave the hood another slow swipe then, for good measure, and bent just a little further than necessary, your tiny denim shorts riding even higher, clinging to the curve of your ass. The white tank top you wore clung to your skin like a second layer, teasing the lace of your bra underneath. 

You could feel his eyes roaming over you, hungry and dark, his entire body going still in that telltale way that meant his self-control was hanging by a damn thread.

Dean let out a strangled groan. “Son of a bitch.”

You kept up the show, swaying your hips in time with the music, letting the heat of the sun mix with the heat of his stare. Then, like you were in some sinful 2000s music video, you lifted the sponge, squeezing it over your chest. Cool, soapy water cascaded down your skin, soaking your tank top completely see-through.

Dean actually stumbled forward a step, like some invisible force was dragging him closer.

“Jesus, fuck.” His voice barely made it past his lips, breathless with something between awe and agony.

You dragged the sponge over your body, teasing, slow, torturous, wringing every ounce of restraint from him. Rolling your hips to the beat, you stretched across the Impala’s hood, putting on a show until the final strums of the song faded out.

Grinning, you turned fully to face him, leaning back against the slick metal, watching the way his chest rose and fell. The way his fists clenched at his sides, his body taut with restraint.

“So…” You tilted your head, your smirk coy. “Is this everything you imagined?”

Dean didn’t answer.

He moved.

In one swift motion, he closed the distance, gripping your waist and lifting you onto the hood with effortless strength. The cool metal met your bare thighs, shocking a gasp from your lips—one he swallowed as his mouth crashed onto yours.

The kiss was desperate, hungry. Claiming.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, arching into him, feeling just how much he’d enjoyed the show. His hands roamed your back, fingers digging into your hips as he dragged you closer, like he couldn’t get enough. The heat of his body, the rough denim of his jeans between your legs—it was intoxicating.

He kissed you like a man starved, all tongue and teeth, devouring you, owning you.

You whimpered when his lips trailed lower, his stubble scraping deliciously against your damp skin.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he growled, voice thick with want, hands gripping your ass as he rocked against you.

You moaned at the friction, rolling your hips into him, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging just to hear the sharp hiss that left his lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.

Your breath hitched as he ground against you, slow and deliberate, teasing himself as much as you.

“As much as I’d love to take my time with you,” Dean panted, his voice ragged, “I’m afraid we don’t have a lotta time.”

Your lips curled into a wicked smirk as you dragged your nails down his chest, over the fabric of that grey tee of his, the one that clung to his biceps and broad shoulders. “Then we better make it quick.”

You husked against his lips and then caught his plush bottom lip between your teeth, tugging just enough to make him groan deep in his chest, and that was all it took. Dean all but growled before crashing his lips against yours once more, the kiss hot and filthy. 

His large hand framed your jaw, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting past your lips, swallowing your breath like he couldn’t get enough of you.

His hands were everywhere—skimming down your sides, gripping your hips, squeezing your ass before finally cupping your breasts through the soaked fabric of your top. A sharp gasp left you when he pulled away, yanking the dampened fabric over your head and tossing it somewhere behind him. 

Without hesitation, he tugged the cups of your lace-bra down, freeing your breasts to the warm summer air before his mouth was on you, hot and hungry, sucking, nipping, lavishing you in wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, arching into him, your fingers fisting into his hair as the ache between your legs turned unbearable.

Dean groaned against your skin before pulling back just enough to flick open the button of your shorts, yanking them and your panties down in one swift motion. You barely had time to shiver before his hands were between your thighs, his fingers trailing over your slick heat, teasing, pressing just enough to have you trembling.

“Shit, baby,” he rasped, dragging his fingers through your wetness, spreading it before pressing the pads of two fingers against your aching clit. “Already so fuckin’ soaked for me.”

Your head fell back, a breathy moan slipping past your lips as he started working you open, circling your bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate strokes. He knew exactly how to touch you—his practiced hand moving with confidence, like he was playing a damn fiddle, pulling every little sound from you with ease.

Your thighs twitched, hips rolling into his hand, but he wasn’t about to let you slip away from him. His free arm slid around your back, pulling you against him, keeping you close, keeping you steady. You weren’t going anywhere—not until he was done with you.

“Dean,” you gasped, clinging to his bicep, your other hand gripping his shirt as he slid one thick finger inside you, curling it just right. Your walls clenched around him, the stretch not nearly enough, but he took his time, teasing you, dragging his finger in and out before adding a second.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice low and sinful as he thrust his fingers deep, curling them against that spot that had you gasping. “Goddamn, sweetheart… you’re squeezing me so tight.”

His thumb found your clit again, circling, pressing, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His arm around your back tightened, anchoring you, his body pressed firm against yours as he worked you apart with ruthless precision.

The tension coiled in your stomach, tightening with every stroke, every flick, until you were right there, teetering on the edge.

Dean leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice rough and dripping with possession. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

A broken cry tore from your throat as your orgasm hit, your body arching into him, back bowing as pleasure wracked your frame. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, thighs trembling, hands fisting his shirt as he worked you through it. His deep groan vibrated against your skin, his grip on you firm, grounding you as you came undone beneath him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praised, fingers slowing but never stopping, drawing out every last pulse. His free hand smoothed up your back, keeping you close, pressing you against his heat as you shuddered.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your throat before dragging his slick fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum. “You taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

Still panting, you reached for his belt, fingers fumbling in your urgency, desperate to feel him inside you. Dean wasted no time helping, shoving the leather free and popping the button of his jeans, his cock already hard and aching as he shoved them down just enough to free himself.

Your breath hitched as you wrapped your fingers around him, the heat of him searing against your palm. He was thick, heavy, veins pulsing beneath your touch as you stroked him from base to tip. A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat, his hips jerking into your grip as his head tipped back, lips parted on a ragged breath.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he rasped, his hands gripping your thighs, like he was grounding himself in you.

You let your thumb sweep over the weeping tip, smearing his precum, feeling the way he twitched under your touch. His jaw clenched, muscles tensing, and fuck, you swore you could watch him like this forever—his body taut with need, barely holding himself together.

But Dean had other plans.

With a rough growl, he pried your hand away and pressed you back onto the hood of the Impala, the metal warm against your spine, sending a shiver through you. His hands spread your thighs wide, his gaze roaming over your flushed, wrecked body like he was committing you to memory.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, palming himself as he stroked his cock, his eyes dark and hungry. “You look so goddamn good like this. My girl. My Baby.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, your walls fluttering around nothing as you whined for him, arching, desperate. That was all it took.

Dean lined himself up and thrust in with one smooth, devastating stroke, burying himself to the hilt. The both of you moaned—loud, unrestrained—as he stretched you open, filling you completely. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he stilled, savouring the heat of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, forehead dropping to yours, his breath hot, ragged. “So goddamn tight, baby.”

A whimper slipped from your lips, your hands clawing for grip on the slick metal as you tried to rock your hips, but his grip on your thighs kept you pinned beneath him. The stretch of him was almost too much, the delicious burn leaving you trembling, but it wasn’t enough—not yet.

“Dean, baby" you gasped, voice breathless, needy. "Please. Move. Fuck me."

Your plea shattered whatever restraint he had left.

Then he moved.

There was no holding back, no slow build—just pure, unrelenting need as he started fucking into you, hard and fast. The Impala rocked beneath you, the metal creaking under the force of his thrusts, and every time you jolted higher, he yanked you back down onto him, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

The sound of skin slapping, the wet, filthy noises of him pounding into you filled the air, mingling with your desperate cries and his gritted curses. Every thrust sent you spiralling higher, every drag of his cock against that perfect spot making your vision blur.

Dean was unraveling just as fast, his grip tightening, his groans turning into something deeper, almost desperate. His lips found yours in a searing, messy kiss, his teeth catching your bottom lip before he broke away, panting against your mouth.

“Gonna come for me again, sweetheart?” he growled, his hand slipping between you to rub tight circles over your clit, driving you closer to the edge. “C’mon, baby. Let me feel you.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, pleasure ripping through you, your walls clenching around him as you came with a cry. The way you squeezed him had him cursing, his rhythm faltering, his breath shuddering.

“Shit—fuck, baby—” His hips stuttered, and then he was right there with you, groaning deep as he buried himself to the hilt, his release spilling inside you, hot and thick.

He slumped against you, both of you breathless, shaking, bodies slick with sweat. His hand smoothed up your side, soothing, grounding, before he pressed a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

“Damn,” he chuckled, voice wrecked. “Might be the best ride I’ve ever had in this car.”

You rolled your eyes, but the breathless laughter still bubbled out of you. "You’re such a dork." You smacked his shoulder lightly, a mix of jest and silent demand for him to help you up. He did, pulling you against his chest, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back, his green eyes were softer now, something unspoken lingering between you both. His fingers traced along your jaw, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips.

"Thank you," he murmured, voice quieter now, more reverent. "For this… for everything."

Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his gaze, and you cupped his cheek, stroking your thumb over the rough stubble. "Anything for you."

Dean exhaled, something almost like relief washing over his expression before he kissed you once more—slower this time, less desperate, more savouring. His hands lingered on your hips, his thumb brushing soft circles against your skin, grounding you in the moment.

But before you could get lost in him again, you reluctantly slipped away, heading inside to clean up and change. The last thing you needed was to look like you’d just been thoroughly fucked on the hood of Dean’s beloved car—especially with Bobby and Sam due back any minute.

By the time you descended the steps—now looking far more presentable—you caught sight of Dean through the hall window. A smirk tugged at your lips as you watched him, his focus entirely on the Impala, washing away lingering suds and ensuring not a single trace of your time together remained. Of course, he had to finish her off too. Pun intended.

You bit your lip, amused at the sight, but before you could enjoy it any longer, the familiar rumble of Bobby’s truck rolling up the dirt driveway snapped you from your thoughts.

Bobby stepped out first, casting a suspicious glance toward Dean, while Sam followed, his gaze narrowing as he watched his brother casually running a drying cloth over the hood.

“Didn’t you just clean her yesterday?” Sam asked, brows furrowing.

Dean hesitated for only a fraction of a second before smirking, his comeback effortless, at least so he thought. “Yeah, well… she got a little dirty.”

AN: This was a fun little one to write 😆. Ofc Dean's fantasy would be something like this, simple but effective. I hope you guys liked this one ❤️, feedback is always appreciated 😊

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@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel

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[honeydippedfiction]

Quarterback Chaos {JB9}

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Synopsis: Sometimes the press is right, sometimes they're wrong but what happens when their words spark a possesive streak that somehow leads to a secret becoming revealed that flips Joe's and Y/N's arrangement upside down.

Warnings: Suggestive/Spicy Scenes, Strong Language, Alcohol Use, Mature Themes, Mild Public Attention, Angst, & Betrayal.

Themes: Situationship, Jealousy, Possesiveness, Fame & Performance Pressure, Flirtation & Tension, Modern Romance, Group Dynamics, Female Empowerment, “No Strings” Situationship, & Luxury Lifestyle.

WC: 10.7k

A/N: y'all finna hate me for this?😅

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Previous Part Next Part

Y/N sat cross-legged on the bed in nothing but her robe, staring at the message from Carmen. Her phone lay in her palm, but her mind was racing a mile a minute.

Billboard wants a digital cover.

And they know who the song’s about.

She flopped backward dramatically, the oversized robe riding up her thighs as she groaned toward the ceiling.

From the bathroom, Joe’s voice floated out. “You good out there?”

She called back. “Define good.”

The door creaked open, and there he was — towel gone, now in black sweats and still toweling off his damp hair. His chain glinted against his chest, skin still dewy from the shower. And of course, smug.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “What happened?”

Y/N held up her phone like it was a fire alarm. “Billboard knows the song’s about you.”

Joe blinked. “Wait, for real?”

“Carmen just texted me.” She sat up, tossing the phone onto the bed. “They want a digital cover and promo stuff. And if they know, the rest of the industry is about to connect the dots the second the single drops.”

Joe walked over, plucked the phone up and read the message. His brows lifted slightly. “Damn.”

“Yeah.” Y/N exhaled and looked up at him, one brow raised. “So, Mr. QB1, how does it feel to be a muse?”

He shrugged one shoulder, grin creeping in slow. “I mean... can’t say I’m surprised.”

Y/N threw a pillow at him. “You’re unbearable.”

“And yet,” he said, leaning down and planting a kiss to her cheek, “you’re still letting me stay.”

Before she could fire back, ding! — another message.

Kayla 🧨:

Sooooo… when can I leak the BTS footage of you making out with him in your jersey? Asking for the timeline. 😇

Y/N stared at it in horror.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t record anything… obvious,” Kayla added immediately when Y/N didn’t reply fast enough.

Joe peeked over her shoulder and burst out laughing. “She’s a menace.”

“She is the worst.”

But Y/N was grinning. Because underneath the chaos, the teasing, the slightly unhinged energy of her best friend and the very shirtless man beside her — something felt right.

Her phone buzzed again.

Carmen 💼🔥

Cover shoot rollout starts tomorrow. I want a promo photo. Something real. Something intimate.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The studio space had been transformed into a moody, sexy dream: low lighting, sheer curtains filtering the sunlight, a king-sized bed set in the middle of the room like a stage, draped in white and gray linens. The camera crew moved efficiently, setting up angles while the glam team added final touches.

Y/N stood in the center of it all — legs long, confident, commanding the room in nothing but an oversized football jersey and thigh-high stockings. Her hair was tousled, makeup sharp and sultry, the gloss on her lips catching the light every time she moved.

And Joe?

Joe was sitting on the couch just off set, arms crossed, jaw tight, doing a terrible job of pretending he wasn’t watching her like she was the main event at the Super Bowl.

Kayla plopped down next to him, sipping her iced matcha with a straw and way too much glee.

“Your face is screaming,” she whispered.

Joe didn’t look at her. “What?”

She leaned in like they were courtside. “That ‘I know what’s under that jersey and I wanna start a war over it’ face.”

He exhaled through his nose. “She looks good.”

Kayla’s eyes widened. “Good? Sir. That woman is out there looking like a dangerous decision wrapped in a highlight reel.”

Joe finally glanced over at her, fighting the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Kayla kept going. “Like, I know y’all said this was casual, but the way your eyes just followed her when she turned around? That wasn’t casual. That was national security threat. I saw a twitch.”

Back on set, the photographer called out, “Y/N, give me that ‘you know I’m the one they warned you about’ energy.”

And she did.

One hand resting at the top of her thigh, chin tilted down, lips slightly parted. Her expression said: I’m not the fantasy, I’m the reason you stopped sleeping.

Joe shifted in his seat, clearly fighting for composure.

Kayla clocked it immediately. “Oop. There it is. That was your 10-yard penalty for unsportsmanlike thoughts.”

He groaned quietly.

Y/N glanced over between takes and caught his eye for a split second. Her smirk said she knew. Her fingers played with the hem of the jersey — the one that looked suspiciously familiar — and she winked.

Joe was done.

Kayla cackled. “Go ahead. Fumble. She’s gonna break your whole playbook.”

The photographer called, “Last setup! Just lean forward on the bed, one knee up. Make it intimate but still powerful.”

Joe leaned back, dragging a hand over his face like it would ground him.

Y/N did as directed, her knee sliding up the bed, fingers tangled in the sheets, gaze smoldering straight into the lens. Every flash lit up her silhouette like a dream that didn’t come with a warning label.

Joe muttered, “She’s gonna be the death of me.”

Kayla grinned, raising her cup. “Cheers to that.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

A few weeks later…

Y/N sat cross-legged in her dressing room, scrolling through her phone as her glam squad touched up her makeup. Her new single had dropped just two days ago — and it was already climbing the charts. TikTok edits, fan theories, thirsty reaction tweets, and memes were everywhere.

The promo shot of her in the jersey? Iconic. Ubiquitous. Dangerously reposted.

And Joe?

Still silent online.

Still in her phone.

Still in her life… in the quiet, complicated, dangerously casual way they’d agreed on.

“Okay,” Carmen said as she stepped into the room, tapping her iPad. “You’re up for Billboard in fifteen. It’s not a live shoot — just the digital cover and feature interview. Keep it sexy, keep it vague, keep it... you.”

Y/N smirked. “So basically don’t admit who the song’s about.”

Carmen grinned. “Exactly. Let the internet keep guessing.”

Kayla popped into the room, sunglasses on indoors — like a true menace — and dropped onto the couch dramatically. “The internet doesn’t need to guess. They know. Every shot of your thighs in that jersey had Joe’s fanboys punching air.”

Y/N gave her a look through the mirror. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to help,” Kayla said, propping her feet up. “I’m just here for the tea and to make sure Mr. QB1 doesn’t go ghost when this interview hits.”

“He won’t.” Y/N said it a little too fast. A little too firm.

Carmen raised a brow. “You sure?”

Y/N paused.

The truth? Joe had been around — not as much as before, thanks to off-season training picking up again, but he checked in. Late-night FaceTimes. Random selfies. One-word texts that made her laugh in the middle of a studio session.

She hadn’t seen him since he left her hotel bed two weeks ago… but he never really felt gone.

Still, something about this next step — the Billboard interview — made it all feel very real.

And maybe that scared her a little.

Before she could spiral further, Carmen’s assistant knocked on the door.

“They’re ready for you on set, Y/N.”

She stood, smoothed her jersey-dress combo (again with the subtle nod), and took a breath.

Kayla smirked and whispered behind her, “You’re giving heartbreak with a touch of ‘he ain’t going nowhere.’”

Y/N chuckled under her breath. “That’s the goal.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Meanwhile…Joe sat in the lounge of the Bengals facility, headphones around his neck and Y/N’s single quietly playing through his phone as he scrolled.

The Billboard teaser post hit his feed.

Y/N. In that damn jersey again. Posed on the bed like she owned it — like she knew he was going to see it. The caption was simple:

"No names. All feelings." — Y/N for Billboard Digital Cover.

Joe let out a breath, shook his head.

This girl…

His phone buzzed.

Y/N:

👀 Don’t choke.

He smirked.

Joe:

I already did. And it wasn’t from football.

His phone buzzed again seconds later.

Kayla 🧨:

I KNOW you saw the jersey. And yes, she still has it. You’re welcome.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The Billboard feature dropped that Friday morning.

Y/N was mid-latte, sitting in her robe at the edge of her hotel bed, when Kayla burst into the room holding her phone like it was a detonated grenade.

“WE HAVE A PROBLEM.”

Y/N blinked. “Is this a ‘the internet’s on fire’ problem or a ‘you left the straightener on and burned your hoodie again’ problem?”

Kayla shoved the screen in her face.

Big bold text at the top of the Billboard article read:

“Y/N’s Breakout Single Has Everyone Guessing… But Fans Are Convinced It’s About Ja’Marr Chase 👀🔥”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “I—what?”

Kayla was already pacing. “Girl. They pulled up the game footage from that Ravens vs Bengals matchup — the same one you sang at — and now they’re convinced you and Ja’Marr had a moment.”

She kept scrolling.

“There was definite chemistry in the photos after the game,” one fan tweeted. “I’m just saying… #ChaseHer.”

Another theory connects the lyric “watching from the sideline, but he still got a front-row seat” to Ja’Marr’s injury that week. The internet was running with it — TikToks, memes, and fancams galore.

Y/N’s phone buzzed.

Carmen 💼🔥:

Tell me you didn’t write this about Ja’Marr. Please.

Then another.

Ja’Marr 🏈👟:

LMAOOOO why am I trending?? Did I miss the part where we’re dating???

Kayla was practically cackling now. “This is so messy. Like A+ mess. But also… iconic.”

Y/N dropped her head into her hands. “I can’t. Joe’s gonna see this.”

Cue: another notification.

Joe 🧊🏈:

Cute interview. Didn’t know you had a thing for wide receivers.

Y/N: paused.

Then came the follow-up.

Joe:

Should I be jealous? Or are you just trying to get me to break our ‘casual’ rule?

She stared at the text for a second too long.

Kayla peeked over her shoulder. “Ooooh, he’s pressed. That’s a lil possessive for someone who said, and I quote, ‘let’s keep it chill.’”

“I didn’t even say anything in the interview!” Y/N argued. “I kept it vague! The fans ran wild on their own.”

“But your eyes were screaming Joe the whole time,” Kayla said smugly. “And now he’s having a lil ego bruising moment. Honestly? I like this timeline.”

Y/N tossed a pillow at her.

Her phone buzzed again.

Joe:

I’ll be in your city tomorrow. Don’t worry, I won’t bring Ja’Marr. Unless you want him. 😏

Y/N smirked, fingers flying.

Y/N:

You’re hilarious. But you should know — the only one who got me out of that jersey… was you.

Kayla screamed in the background like the ghost of chaos incarnate.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The set was minimal but sexy — warm-toned lighting, sleek white couches, and gold accents to match the gold-certifiedenergy that surrounded Y/N these days. She looked the part too: soft glam, overlined lips, oversized jersey dress (a different one, not the one), and heels sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room.

The interviewer leaned forward, legs crossed, iPad in hand. “Y/N, this single… whew. You’ve got everyone talking.”

Y/N smiled, legs crossed, hands in her lap. “That’s what we want, right?”

“We have to ask—who was the inspiration?”

Y/N smirked. “You know I can’t answer that.”

“But you can tell us this,” the interviewer said with a wink. “Was he an athlete?”

Y/N tilted her head. “Maybe.”

“Was he at the game where you sang the national anthem?”

“…Maybe.”

The interviewer leaned in. “Fans are connecting a few dots. That Ravens-Bengals game? You were spotted in photos after the anthem with Ja’Marr Chase, Tee Higgins, and Joe Burrow.”

Y/N just smiled. “I meet a lot of people.”

“Ja’Marr Chase, though…” The interviewer grinned. “There was a picture floating around — you two looked close. One of the lyrics is, ‘He didn’t say a word, but the way he looked at me said more than enough.’ Fans are convinced it’s him.”

Y/N gave a single, low laugh. “People see what they want to see.”

“Are they wrong?”

That was when she slipped — just for a second. Her gaze flicked off-camera. Her smile twitched. Not at the mention of Ja’Marr — but at the memory of another set of eyes. Cold, blue, unblinking. Joe’s.

The interviewer didn’t miss it.

“That look right there,” they said playfully. “There’s something behind it.”

“I’ve said too much already,” Y/N teased, shifting in her seat. “Let the lyrics do the talking.”

“Speaking of which,” the interviewer continued, “That line — ‘front-row seat even when he's benched’ — fans think that’s about Ja’Marr being out that week.”

Y/N blinked. “Oh… was he?”

That little slip-up? Chaos. Because that meant it wasn’t about Ja’Marr. Or maybe she was just deflecting. The ambiguity was delicious.

The interviewer grinned like they knew they had gold. “So you’re saying—”

“I’m saying,” Y/N interrupted smoothly, “it’s a song about a feeling. About someone who got under my skin at the wrong time… but left a mark anyway.”

And boom. That was it. That was the moment that Twitter took and ran like it was 4th and goal.

Later that night, as the internet burned…

Kayla threw her feet up on the hotel ottoman, scrolling TikTok.

“She blushed when they brought up Ja’Marr,” one clip said.

“No, she hesitated when they asked about the anthem. It was Joe. You can see it in her eyes,” argued another.

Kayla shook her head and looked over at Y/N on the bed. “You’re a menace.”

Y/N didn’t look up from her phone. “I said nothing.”

“Exactly,” Kayla said, grinning. “And the girls heard everything.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The rumors hadn’t died down — if anything, they’d gotten louder.

Fan edits were everywhere. Headlines spun daily.

“Is Ja’Marr Chase Y/N’s Mystery Muse?” “New Pop Starlet Might Be Fumbling the NFL’s Finest Wide Receiver” “Y/N’s Song About a Bengal… But Which One?”

Even sports blogs had started dissecting her lyrics. It was out of control.

So her team did what any smart team would do: book a high-profile appearance with a built-in audience and just enough playfulness to control the narrative. Enter: Jimmy Kimmel Live.

Y/N walked out in a stunning burgundy leather two-piece — a cropped jacket and matching mini skirt that screamed I’m expensive and unavailable. Her heels clicked with confidence, her hair framed her face in soft waves, and that same smirk she gave Joe before walking away from him weeks ago? On full display.

The crowd cheered wildly.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jimmy grinned, “it’s the woman who broke the internet, broke the charts, and apparently broke half the Bengals’ locker room—please welcome, Y/N!”

The crowd lost it.

Y/N laughed as she sat down, crossing her legs with practiced ease. “Y’all are messy already.”

“Oh come on,” Jimmy said, flipping through his note cards. “I had like seven questions about your music and thirteen about who the hell that song’s about.”

Y/N shook her head, teasing, “You better ask the music ones first.”

They bantered, joked, laughed through a few light questions about her rise, her upcoming acting role, and how she balances both careers. Then… Jimmy went for it.

“So, this single—huge hit. Gorgeous vocals. Lyrics that cut a little deep,” he said, leaning forward with a knowing smile. “And obviously the fans have questions… Are you dating a football player?”

Y/N smiled — smooth, radiant, and untouchable.

“I’m dating my career,” she said, crossing her arms gently. “That’s the only relationship I’m focused on right now. Music, acting, creating things I love. That’s it.”

“Oh come on, not even a lil sideline crush?”

She tilted her head. “I mean… football players are cute. But no. It’s not about that for me. Not right now.”

Jimmy grinned. “So you’re saying the entire internet is wrong?”

“I’m saying I’m enjoying my life,” Y/N said with a shrug. “And people can enjoy the music without turning it into a dating show.”

Cut to: the internet immediately turning it into a dating show.

Meanwhile, back in Cincinnati…

Joe was on the couch, phone in hand, watching the interview replay from a clip on Twitter. His lips twitched when she said football players are cute, and again when she dodged the dating question like a pro.

But that last part?

“It’s not about that for me. Not right now.”

He leaned back, dragging a hand down his face.

Then picked up his phone.

Joe 🧊🏈:

Cute interview. Liked the part where I don’t exist.

A minute later:

Y/N ✨:

I didn’t say that. I said “no relationships.” You and I are… whatever we are. No label needed, right?

Joe:

…So not even a lil sideline crush?

Y/N:

You’re more like a halftime distraction. A very enjoyable one.

Joe:

You’re gonna be the death of me.

Y/N:

That’s the goal.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The Bengals practice field was buzzing — late morning drills, cleats hitting turf, coaches shouting over whistles. But over on the sideline? The real action wasn’t on the field.

It was between Joe, Ja'Marr, and Tee.

“Yo,” Ja’Marr jogged up, towel slung over his shoulder and a grin wide enough to be disrespectful. “You saw Billboard’s follow-up post, right?”

Joe didn’t even look up from his stretching. “Which one?”

“The one with my face on it,” Ja'Marr said, smirking. “Caption was, ‘Still think she’s not talking about him?’” He pulled out his phone and showed it to Tee, who barked out a laugh.

Tee leaned over. “Yo, you tryna tell us you were just chillin’ in the background and accidentally bagged the hottest rising star in the game?”

“Man, I was just standing there,” Ja’Marr grinned. “The vibe did the rest.”

Joe arched a brow, unfazed. “So you think a five-second interaction got you a charting single?”

“I mean, the footage don’t lie,” Ja’Marr said, patting his chest. “Apparently, I got that stare.”

Tee snorted. “Y/N saw his stats and said bet.”

Joe finally stood up, rolling his shoulders. Cool as ever. But the smirk tugging at his lips? Lethal.

“Cute,” Joe said. “But last I checked, she didn’t leave your hotel room in the morning wearing your shirt.”

Ja'Marr's mouth dropped open. Tee just let out a “DAAAAMN” loud enough to make one of the trainers look over.

“Nah,” Joe added, grabbing his helmet. “But keep enjoying your little fan theories.”

Tee wheezed. “You didn’t even deny it with your chest, bro. You said that like it’s classified intel.”

Joe shrugged, slipping his helmet on. “You know what they say… game recognizes game.”

“And yours is on the field, huh?” Ja'Marr teased.

Joe turned back over his shoulder, eyes glinting. “It’s everywhere, baby.”

They lined up for drills, but the jokes didn’t stop there. Every time Joe dropped back to pass, Ja’Marr muttered something about “writing another verse,” and Tee kept humming Y/N’s single under his breath like it was his own personal theme song.

And Joe? He played through it all. Laser-focused. Locked in.

But under that helmet?

He was thinking about that interview. About her.

And the fact that no matter what she told the public, she was still texting him under the table.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Two weeks later. L.A. heat. Cameras rolling.

Y/N was back on set — not for music this time, but filming for a lead role in a buzzy, soon-to-be-everywhere streaming series. Something sexy. Something serious. And just like everything else she touched, she was nailing it.

She was mid-scene, dressed in a sleek jumpsuit and heels, eyes locked on her scene partner — another actor from the industry’s rising elite, a known heartthrob with just the right amount of charm.

And Joe?

Joe was standing just outside the soundstage doors. Hat pulled low. Hoodie up. Arms crossed.

Watching.

Unannounced.

Uninvited.

Exactly how he planned it.

“You’re really out here playing roles with Mr. Movie Star?” he muttered to himself, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Damn right she is,” came a familiar voice behind him.

Joe turned to see Carmen, Y/N’s manager, arms full of coffee and her sunglasses pushed up in her curls. She raised a brow. “You stalking or supporting today?”

Joe smirked. “Both.”

She snorted and handed him a coffee. “At least be hydrated while you pine in silence.”

Inside, the scene wrapped. Applause. Y/N gave a gracious little smile and walked off toward her dressing room. She was halfway through unzipping her jumpsuit when Carmen stuck her head in.

“You’ve got a visitor.”

Y/N blinked. “Kayla?”

“Nope. The other quarterback in your life.”

Y/N groaned and fell back dramatically onto the couch. “Lord, give me strength.”

Carmen cackled. “He looks like he’s ready to fight that scene partner of yours.”

She stepped out of her trailer in bike shorts and an oversized hoodie, hair pulled back, makeup only half gone. Joe was leaning against the wall like a Calvin Klein ad come to life. His arms folded. His eyes on her.

“You didn’t say you were filming love scenes now.”

Y/N smirked. “Didn’t realize I owed you my call sheet.”

He didn’t move, but his jaw flexed. “Just interesting. You can play lovers on camera, but you can’t admit you have one off it?”

She stepped a little closer. Close enough to smell his cologne.

“We said no labels,” she reminded him, voice soft but sharp. “You made that rule, remember?”

Joe didn’t respond. Just looked at her. Long. Intense. Unblinking.

And damn, if that look didn’t do something to her.

“Relax,” she added, playful now. “You’re the only one who’s seen me without my wig glued down. That’s gotta count for something.”

He cracked a smile at that. “That’s… fair.”

She turned to walk back inside, but paused.

“And for the record? The song was never about Ja’Marr.”

Joe raised a brow. “No?”

“No,” she said, biting back a grin. “But keep getting jealous. It looks good on you.”

Then she disappeared into the trailer.

And Joe? He stayed there a little while longer.

Just long enough to know this thing between them wasn’t cooling off anytime soon.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

It was mid-afternoon when Kayla stepped out of her rideshare, iced coffee in one hand and sunglasses sliding down her nose. She was dressed like she owned the lot — which, in her mind, she kind of did. Being Y/N’s ride-or-die and unofficial bodyguard-slash-dance-captain had its perks.

She was halfway to Y/N’s trailer when she paused, squinting.

There he was.

Mr. QB1. Leaning against the production truck like he was about to drop the hottest verse on a Drake feature. Hoodie pulled up. Hands in his pockets. Eyes glued to the door Y/N had just walked into.

Kayla blinked. Then smiled. Slowly. Like a villain in a romcom.

“Oh, this is good.”

She pivoted hard, sneakers squeaking on the pavement as she changed direction and strutted right up to Joe.

“Well, well, well,” she sang. “If it isn’t the emotional support quarterback.”

Joe side-eyed her, smirking. “I thought I had at least ten more minutes before you started.”

“You wish. Boy, what are you doing lurking like a boyfriend with no press pass?”

“Just watching,” he said smoothly.

Kayla sipped her coffee with a dramatic slurp. “Oh, you watching alright. Watching her co-star touch her arm in that scene. Watching her kiss him on camera like she meant it. Mmm. I know your little competitive spirit is trembling.”

Joe’s smirk dropped just a little.

“She’s an actress,” he said, too even.

“She’s also the girl you’re fake not catching feelings for,” Kayla teased, stepping closer. “And yet here you are. Pop-ups, surprises, mysterious man in the shadows energy.”

“I’m supporting her.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” She leaned in with a smirk. “'Cause it’s giving boyfriend-lite.”

Joe didn’t answer right away. His jaw flexed again.

“Relax,” Kayla said, patting his chest. “I’m not judging. I’m proud of you. You’re out here pretending not to care while being fully in your feelings. Growth!”

“I’m not in my feelings,” Joe said, straightening up.

“Sure,” Kayla said sweetly. “And I’m not about to go inside and tell Y/N her quarterback’s out here looking like he wants to throw hands at her co-star.”

Joe gave her a look. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” she grinned. “But only because I love chaos.”

Before he could respond, the trailer door opened — and Y/N stepped out in leggings, an oversized tee, and a top knot. Glowy. Barefaced. And completely oblivious to the standoff that had just happened outside.

“Hey!” she called to Kayla. “You bring my smoothie?”

Kayla turned, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Better. I brought drama.”

Y/N blinked, looked over Kayla’s shoulder… and saw Joe. Still standing there. Still watching her.

That damn smirk tugged at her lips again.

“You still here?” she asked.

Joe tilted his head. “Guess you're hard to walk away from.”

Kayla groaned loudly. “Lord, if y’all don’t go somewhere and kiss in a janitor’s closet already.”

“Janitor’s closet?” Y/N repeated with a sharp look at Kayla. “Girl, what is wrong with you?”

Kayla just smiled sweetly and sipped her coffee. “Nothing. I just believe in locking people in tight spaces until they work out their unresolved sexual tension.”

Joe coughed, trying not to laugh, but that smug grin was fully back on his face now. Y/N caught it. And she hated how much she liked seeing it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned him.

“Like what?” he said innocently, but his eyes were already undressing her again.

Kayla fake-gagged. “I’m gonna leave before y’all start making heart eyes and pretending you’re still just ‘friends who have fun.’”

She turned on her heel and walked off, but not before calling over her shoulder:

“Y/N, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do—which means you’ve got, like, two options. And Joe?” She tossed a wink. “Keep it light-skinned romantic, okay?”

“BYE, KAYLA,” Y/N and Joe both yelled at the same time.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Silence.

The kind that wasn’t empty—it was loaded.

Y/N turned slowly, arms crossed over her chest. “You really just pulled up to set without telling me?”

Joe stepped closer, eyes steady on hers. “Didn’t think I needed an invite.”

She tilted her head, unbothered on the surface, but her heart was thudding beneath it. “You usually that bold, Burrow?”

He took another step. “Only when I know it’ll work.”

Y/N blinked, but didn’t back up. “This whole possessive energy you’ve got going on today? Kinda funny for a guy who says he doesn’t want anything serious.”

Joe’s voice dropped, smooth and edged. “I don’t want anything serious. Doesn’t mean I like people thinking someone else is touching what I—”

He cut himself off.

Y/N raised a brow. “What you what?”

Joe looked at her. Really looked. His jaw set. His eyes flickered from her lips back to her eyes like he was calculating whether to say it or show it.

“I’m not used to sharing,” he said instead.

Y/N tried not to let that hit too deep. She’d built a career out of discipline, focus, knowing when to walk away. But the heat radiating between them right now?

It was impossible to ignore.

“So what do you wanna do about that?” she asked.

Joe stepped in again. Now they were toe-to-toe. His voice barely above a whisper.

“Tell me where the nearest closet is.”

Y/N laughed, soft but breathless. “You’re unbelievable.”

He leaned in just enough that she felt his breath on her skin. “But you’re not walking away.”

“No,” she said, cheeks flushing. “I’m not.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Meanwhile…

Kayla sat outside in a folding chair, sunglasses on, watching the door like she was waiting for fireworks. She scrolled Twitter absently and muttered to herself:

“Five minutes. I give them five minutes before someone’s shirt comes off.”

A voice from behind startled her.

“Talking to yourself again?”

It was Y/N’s co-star. All tall smiles and magazine covers and just enough swagger to set off exactly the wrong alarms.

“Oh,” Kayla said, standing slowly. “You again.”

He smiled. “Just finished ADR. You waiting on Y/N?”

Kayla tilted her head. “Always.”

His eyes lingered a little too long on the trailer door.

And suddenly, Kayla’s instincts kicked in.

Something about his tone. The way he looked at the trailer. Like he knew who else was inside.

Like he wanted to know.

Kayla narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, this just got interesting…”

Kayla narrowed her eyes behind her sunglasses, watching Co-Star Boy lean a little too casually against the side of a production cart. He was scrolling, but his eyes kept darting back to Y/N’s trailer.

Twice now.

And Kayla caught both.

She slid her phone from her pocket and fired off a text to Carmen: “Tell me why Mr. Netflix is hovering like he knows who inside that trailer. We watching him now too.”

No sooner had she hit send, the trailer door swung open. Joe stepped out first, hoodie still on but tension clearly in his shoulders. His eyes flicked across the lot—immediately clocking the co-star nearby.

His jaw ticked.

And of course, Co-Star Boy just happened to glance over and offer a half-smile.

Not a hello.

Just a smug little “oh, it’s you” nod.

Joe stared for a beat too long. Then walked off without a word.

Kayla stood and met him halfway. “Soooo…”

“She’s inside,” he said simply.

Kayla lowered her glasses. “And Co-Star Boy’s been giving whole villain arc vibes since you walked out.”

Joe gave her a look. “You watching him now?”

“Watching everybody. My girl’s a prize, and I don’t trust Mr. Tall and Touchy.”

Joe’s lip twitched into something between a smirk and a warning. “I’m starting to feel the same.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Inside the Trailer…

Y/N was finishing a touch-up in the mirror when Kayla walked back in.

“Your walking dildo made eye contact with your scene partner like he was about to call an audible and drop him on the concrete,” she said casually, kicking off her shoes.

Y/N snorted. “Why are men like this?”

Kayla shrugged. “Because men. But also, I don’t like the way Mr. Co-Star was looking at the trailer.”

Y/N paused. “Wait, for real?”

“Mmhm. Not he-likes-your-music looking. Like he-knows-something-he-shouldn’t looking.”

Y/N frowned, the edge of tension coming back. “I’m not about to do a whole scandal just because I look good on screen with someone.”

Kayla nodded, then smirked. “Well, you do look like you’d ruin lives in that jumpsuit. So, yeah. Be careful, sis.”

Y/N bit her lip, already reaching for her phone.

To Joe: You good?

From Joe: Fine. Watching. Still not sharing.

The tension in the air was palpable as Joe’s message hit Y/N’s phone, and she couldn’t help but feel a slight smile tug at her lips. Still not sharing? That one line felt like a challenge — like a spark was being lit. And he was clearly watching.

But as the minutes ticked by and Y/N finished up her prep, the soft buzz of the door opening snapped her back to reality.

Kayla sauntered in, her eyes dancing with mischief. “So, are we still pretending this whole thing isn’t about to turn into a full-blown soap opera?”

Y/N glanced at her phone, reading Joe’s message one more time, and then put it face down. "I’m not pretending anything. I just want to finish this session and get the hell out of here."

Kayla raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “And you’re not about to call Mr. QB1 to handle whatever drama’s brewing with your co-star? Because that look he gave you earlier? Very I’m ready to run some interference energy.”

Y/N let out a breath, her gaze flicking back to the mirror. “I don’t need anyone to handle anything for me. I’m good. And the last thing I need is more heat on me right now.”

Kayla grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos. “You’re acting like you’re not into the heat.”

Y/N gave her a side-eye. “Just keep it cute, Kay. We have a show to get ready for.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Outside the trailer…

Joe was still lingering, eyeing the scene with her co-star and a few others. His phone buzzed in his hand, but his eyes were focused on the subtle interaction he was witnessing.

There was no mistaking it now — Co-Star Boy was definitely stepping into that territory. His posture, his words, everything about his vibe was just a little too much.

Joe didn’t respond to the message that just came through. Instead, he pocketed his phone and took a few more steps in that direction, his jaw tight.

"Yo," he called, getting the attention of one of the production assistants who was walking past. “Tell me, who’s the one in charge of keeping the boundaries around here?”

The assistant raised an eyebrow. “You talking about the co-stars? Or the cast?”

Joe grinned. “Both. Preferably the ones who think they can cross a line.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back in the trailer…

Y/N was in the zone now, headset on, earphones in as she tested the sound for the upcoming session. The world outside felt distant as she got lost in her own head, humming lightly along with the beat.

But as she opened her eyes and looked up to check the mirror again, there he was — Co-Star Boy, standing in the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N froze.

He leaned against the frame, crossing his arms. “You know, I think we need to have a real talk about how much time we’re spending together. Can’t have you getting too cozy with your other favorite guy.”

The words hung in the air. And for a split second, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She didn't know if it was his bravado or if it was the fact that he seemed so sure of where her focus was.

Before she could even respond, Kayla was at her side. “Excuse me,” she said with a false sweetness, “You’re gonna need to leave her alone for the next hour. It’s time for work.”

Y/N shot Kayla a grateful glance as Co-Star Boy took the hint, looking a little too cocky for someone who was about to be shut down.

“Whatever you say,” he drawled, turning to leave. “Just don’t forget who your real competition is.”

Y/N didn’t even flinch, though her mind was racing. She felt a rush of adrenaline at how easily the tension could snap between her and him — just like that.

Once the door closed, Kayla shot Y/N a look. “He’s got some nerve.”

“Maybe,” Y/N replied, shaking her head. “But I’m not about to entertain it.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Later that day…

Joe was waiting by her trailer door when she stepped outside, looking like he hadn’t been there long. His smirk was back, more dangerous now, and it made her pulse race.

“You good?” he asked casually, stepping toward her as she walked to him.

“Fine,” she said, matching his tone. “Just… work stuff.”

Joe didn’t seem convinced. “Work stuff?” he repeated, his voice low. “Or ‘another guy trying to pull a stunt’ stuff?”

Y/N stopped and looked him in the eyes. “It’s not that deep.”

He stepped even closer, closing the space between them. “I don’t like the idea of anyone trying to push you around, Y/N.”

She swallowed, feeling the weight of his words.

Before she could respond, he leaned in slightly, his breath just brushing her ear. “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

Y/N stood there, her heart pounding in her chest, and before she even knew it, she was pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I’m not your problem to fix, Joe.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “We both know that’s not true.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Later that night…

Kayla couldn’t stop laughing as she flipped through Y/N’s phone, watching the messages come in. “Girl, I know you’re about to lose your damn mind with all this tension.”

Y/N tried not to look too amused. “No. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Uh-huh,” Kayla said, her eyes glinting. “And that text I just saw? Definitely not ‘friends with benefits’ territory. That man is hanging on by a thread.”

Y/N’s phone buzzed again.

From Joe: You need anything tonight? Just say the word. I’m waiting…

Y/N stared at the screen for a moment, a part of her heart skipping. But her mind remained sharp, refusing to let the lines blur… for now.

Kayla looked over, sensing her moment to strike. “Tell me you’re not going to text him.”

Y/N looked up from her phone and gave her best friend a wicked grin.

“I’m just playing the game,” she said softly. Then, to herself, added with a knowing look, “And it’s a hell of a game.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N was sitting comfortably on the plush couch in the dimly lit, iconic studio of The Graham Norton Show, the warmth of the spotlight hitting her as the crowd eagerly awaited her arrival. She had her game face on—smiling, poised, answering questions about her latest song and the buzz around her new series. The promotional circuit had been a whirlwind, but she was used to it by now.

The camera flashed, and the host, Graham, leaned in with a grin that could only mean one thing: he was about to ask her something she wasn’t prepared for.

"So, Y/N," Graham said, leaning forward with his trademark cheeky smile. "We’ve been hearing a lot about your new music, your new show, and let’s not forget, the little bit of controversy that seems to be following you around. But there’s something that has really got the internet buzzing lately. A picture that was shared—"

Y/N’s stomach dropped, and she knew immediately what he was referring to. She’d hoped it wouldn’t come up, but of course, it did. The picture. That damn picture.

Graham clicked a button on his remote, and suddenly, the giant screen behind him lit up with the image: Y/N and Co-Star Boy locked in a passionate kiss. They were on set, caught in the heat of a scene, but the fans had no idea—it was just a scene for their show. They didn’t know that. All they saw was a snapshot, and the internet had run wild with speculation.

The crowd gasped in reaction, some of them giggling, some murmuring with curiosity. Y/N’s eyes flicked from the screen to the audience, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. The last thing she wanted was for people to misinterpret this as anything other than work.

Graham chuckled, his voice playful but with a hint of mischief. "Now, Y/N, can you shed some light on this for us? Is Co-Star Boy your new man? The internet seems to think so. You’ve been pretty private about your relationships, but this—well, this tells a different story."

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, the tension in her shoulders rising. She knew this was coming, but she didn’t expect it to hit so suddenly. The last thing she wanted was to be dragged into a headline about her personal life. She wasn’t ready for this kind of exposure.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled and leaned forward slightly, trying to maintain control. "Look," she said, her tone measured but with a subtle edge of annoyance. "That picture is from the set of my new series. It’s a scene between two characters. Just two actors doing their job, okay? So, no, I’m not dating Co-Star Boy. It’s all part of the role."

The crowd quieted for a moment, and Graham raised an eyebrow. "But you can see why people would get the wrong impression, right? I mean, look at the chemistry in that picture!"

Y/N laughed, but it was a little forced. "Well, we’re actors, Graham. That’s our job—creating chemistry, making the audience feel something. But off-screen, it’s just business."

She didn’t miss the way Graham’s eyes flicked to her, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. He didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he let her slide by with it for now.

"Fair enough," he said, flashing his trademark grin. "But you’ve got to admit—there’s something going on, right? I mean, look at you two. The way he looks at you—"

Y/N shifted in her seat, feeling the weight of the question hanging in the air. She couldn’t quite escape the feeling that Graham was pushing her into a corner, trying to get a reaction out of her. She was determined not to give him one.

"Again," she said, leaning back and crossing her legs with a graceful motion. "It’s just a part of the job. And as for my personal life, I’m very private about it. I don’t need to share everything with the world. I’m just focused on my career—my music, my acting. I’m really proud of the work I’m doing right now, and that’s all that matters."

Graham gave her a knowing smile. "Of course, of course," he said, though his eyes twinkled with mischief. "But you can’t blame us for wanting to dig a little deeper into the mystery that is Y/N, can you?"

Y/N laughed, but it was tight, controlled. "I’m not a mystery, Graham," she replied, a playful yet pointed edge to her voice. "I’m just a woman who’s trying to make it in this industry, and I’m doing my best to keep my personal life private."

The tension was palpable, the crowd waiting for more, but thankfully, Graham moved on to the next topic.

As the interview continued, though, Y/N’s mind was still racing. The picture. The kiss. Her heart ached a little at the thought of how quickly the world would assume things. Her fans didn’t know the context—hell, she barely knew how to handle the situation. She was just doing her job. She wasn’t ready for this kind of drama.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Later that night, as the interview wrapped up and Y/N was back in her hotel room, her phone buzzed incessantly with notifications. She glanced at the screen, seeing dozens of tweets, Instagram posts, and articles tagging her in the kiss photo. Among them, a tweet stood out:

“Y/N and Co-Star Boy: New Couple or Just a Publicity Stunt? 🤔”

Before she could process it, another message came through.

It was from Kayla. “So… did the world just confirm your new relationship? Because, babe, I swear if you don’t call me right now…”

Y/N groaned and grabbed her phone, dialing Kayla’s number.

"Girl, I’m gonna lose it," Y/N muttered when Kayla answered. "This whole damn thing has spiraled out of control."

Kayla’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement on the other end. "Tell me about it. I’m already seeing the memes. There are thousands of them."

"Shut up!" Y/N replied, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "This is a mess."

Kayla’s laughter filled the line. "At least it’s a fun mess. I’m sure Joe is having a blast watching all of this unfold, huh?"

Y/N’s stomach tightened at the mention of Joe. She hadn’t heard from him since the interview earlier, and she wasn’t sure how he was taking all of this.

“Kayla, please don’t even bring up Joe right now," she said, trying to avoid the inevitable conversation. She didn’t need the added stress.

But Kayla wasn’t having it. “Look, I know this whole Co-Star Boy thing is messy, but the real tea here is Joe. What’s his take on all of this, huh?”

Y/N bit her lip, glancing out of the window. Joe. Her mind wandered back to their last encounter, to their heated moments in her hotel room. The tension between them had only grown since then. But this situation, with the public eye on her and the press creating a narrative about her and Co-Star Boy… it felt like everything had shifted.

"I don't know, Kayla. But I’m not thinking about Joe right now," Y/N replied, though the words felt like a lie as soon as they left her lips.

Kayla chuckled knowingly. "Right. Sure you’re not."

Y/N rolled her eyes at Kayla’s teasing, her phone still buzzing with notifications about the kiss. She knew she’d have to deal with it at some point, but right now, she needed to focus on something else. "I’ll call you back, okay?" Y/N said, trying to keep her cool despite the turmoil of her thoughts. "I have to take this."

Kayla’s voice was muffled with amusement on the other end. "Uh-huh, sure. Taking him call, huh?" she said, before Y/N hung up, already knowing her best friend was probably laughing her ass off.

The phone screen lit up, and it was a FaceTime notification from Joe.

Y/N hesitated for only a second before swiping to answer. She didn't want to deal with more chaos, but seeing Joe’s name pop up had her stomach flipping in anticipation, even though she was trying so hard to keep it casual. He was probably watching the same mess unfold online, and she wasn't sure if this conversation would be another tension-filled one or something more... comforting.

She took a deep breath before answering.

The screen flickered as Joe’s face appeared, grinning as usual, but there was a noticeable glint in his eyes. "Hey," he said casually, his deep voice sending a rush through her. "How’s it going, beautiful?"

Y/N let out a breath, trying to keep her expression neutral. "It’s been better," she replied, a little quieter than she intended. "You saw the interview?"

Joe’s smile faltered for a second, and Y/N couldn’t quite place what she saw in his eyes—something between concern and amusement. "Yeah, I saw it. That picture, huh?"

She scoffed and leaned back against the bed, running a hand through her hair. "I didn’t think this would happen. Of all people, why Co-Star Boy?"

Joe raised an eyebrow at her, his smile creeping back in. "You think I’m worried about that? Nah. It’s whatever." He looked like he was about to say something else but paused, taking a deep breath. "But, Y/N, I need to ask… do you want me to, I don’t know, clear the air or something? Let people know they've got the wrong guy?"

Y/N blinked. That wasn’t exactly the direction she thought this conversation would go. "Honestly, I don’t think I need you to do that. I mean, we’re both grown, right? I don’t need anyone to explain my personal life for me." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Besides, I don’t know what the hell this is anymore with Co-Star Boy, so I can’t expect you to play PR for me."

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. "I don’t care what they think. I mean, you’re definitely not with him. You know that, right?" His eyes softened slightly, his playful tone now carrying something else—something more intimate, like he was reminding her of the truth they both knew.

Y/N chewed on her lip for a moment, trying to decide if she should address the obvious tension between them that no one could ignore. Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door.

She froze.

It was late. No one was supposed to be stopping by. Her heart skipped a beat, and she wondered if it was another interview request or—

"Hold on," she muttered, standing up and walking cautiously toward the door, eyes glancing back to Joe on the screen.

She cracked the door open, expecting to see a hotel staff member or someone else she didn’t recognize, but as soon as the door opened, her breath caught in her throat.

There, standing in the hallway with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, was Joe.

A small, teasing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thought I’d drop by and see if you needed some company," he said, his voice laced with playful confidence, the way he always said things that made her heart race.

Y/N stared at him for a moment, her mind spinning as she tried to wrap her head around the fact that Joe had shown up in person, out of nowhere. She’d been half-expecting this conversation over FaceTime, but now that he was standing there in front of her, the energy shifted completely. The tension that had been simmering between them since last night seemed to bubble to the surface, and she couldn’t ignore it.

"Joe," she said slowly, looking back at her phone. He was still grinning at her through the screen, watching the whole thing unfold. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He leaned casually against the doorframe. "What? Didn’t you miss me?" His tone was teasing, but his eyes were more serious than usual. "I figured we could talk... face to face."

Y/N quickly pulled Joe inside before anyone could spot him, slamming the door shut behind them with a sharp thud. Her heart was racing as she stared at him, her pulse quickening at the realization that Joe Burrow had just flown across the globe to be here, in her hotel room, at the exact moment when everything was spiraling out of control.

“Joe,” she breathed, still trying to wrap her mind around it. “You seriously came all the way here?”

He gave her a smirk, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, stepping into the room and standing a little too close for comfort, his presence as overwhelming as ever.

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind reeling from everything that had happened over the past few days. The kiss with Co-Star Boy, the mess with the media, her private life being scrutinized—now Joe was here, standing in front of her, adding to the chaos.

Her gaze flicked back to Joe on the phone, a part of her wanting to back away from this situation altogether, but she couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward him. "Kayla's gonna have a field day with this," she muttered under her breath, but Joe heard it.

"Let her," he said confidently, his voice low. "This is between us."

Y/N stood there for a moment, trying to decide if she was really ready to dive into whatever this was between them. But when Joe’s eyes softened, and his playful expression shifted into something more intense, something that made her pulse quicken, she found herself stepping aside and letting him into her room.

The door clicked shut behind him, and as Joe closed the distance between them, the air thickened with unspoken words. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, their tangled emotions, and whatever this thing was that had been building between them since the moment they met.

Y/N didn’t know what was going to happen next, but she did know one thing: with Joe here, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

And yet... maybe that was exactly what she needed.

The tension was undeniable.

Y/N crossed her arms, trying to keep her cool, but she couldn’t ignore the rush of emotions swirling inside her. “Why are you here, really?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve been busy with the season. You didn’t have to drop everything for... this.”

Joe’s smile faded just a little, and he stepped closer, his gaze locking with hers. “I don’t like sharing, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Especially when it comes to you. So, I’m here to make sure that this whole ‘Co-Star Boy’ thing doesn’t get out of hand.” His eyes bore into hers, searching for any sign that she would deny whatever was between them.

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, though it was a little more nervous than usual. She rolled her eyes, trying to ease the tension. “Co-Star Boy?” she repeated, shaking her head. “There’s nothing between us, Joe. I’d rather swim with jellyfish than let that situation get any deeper. Trust me.”

Joe raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not buying it. “Jellyfish, huh?” he teased, a smirk dancing across his lips. “Guess that’s one way to get stung.”

She met his teasing smirk with a playful shrug. “I mean, I’d survive it. Probably get stung a few times, but I’d come out fine.” She stepped back slightly, trying to keep her distance, but it was hard with him standing so close, his presence so commanding.

Joe’s eyes softened, but only for a split second before the playful teasing returned. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough to make her heart skip a beat. “But I think you’re enjoying this tension a little too much. You like the chase, don’t you?”

Y/N felt her breath hitch, but she tried to keep herself composed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but the slight tilt of her lips betrayed her. The tension between them was palpable, a thick, electric buzz in the air, and she could feel it building again.

Joe laughed softly, his eyes flicking down to her lips for just a moment before looking back up at her. “You’re good at pretending, Y/N. But not that good.” His fingers brushed lightly against hers, the touch almost innocent, but she could tell it was anything but.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to focus. “I’m not pretending anything, Joe,” she said quietly, but there was a vulnerability in her voice that she couldn’t hide.

Joe’s smirk faded again, replaced by something deeper, something more genuine. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said, his voice dropping a notch. “I know what’s going on between us. We both do.”

For a moment, the air was thick with silence. Y/N stood there, torn between wanting to keep up the banter and not wanting to let the conversation get too real, too quickly. But the pull between them was undeniable, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was caught in it.

She finally broke the silence, her voice softer than before. “I’m not ready for all that drama right now, Joe,” she said, though she knew he could probably see right through her. “I’m focusing on my career... not a relationship.”

Joe nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. “I get it. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, right?” he said, his tone a little lighter now, though there was still that undercurrent of intensity.

Y/N was taken aback by how easily he was slipping back into their usual rhythm. But she wasn’t ready to go down that road yet. Not in front of the cameras, not with all the noise around her personal life. Not yet.

“I’m not trying to complicate things,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joe stepped back slightly, giving her some space. “I’m not either,” he said, though there was a slight edge to his words. "But I'm not just going to sit around and pretend like there’s nothing between us. I want more than just… what we have. Even if it’s just for now."

Y/N swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. Was she ready for this? To let the lines blur even further? She wasn’t sure.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone, Joe,” she said, her voice almost breaking. “Not you. Not anyone. Not like this."

Joe stepped forward, his hand gently brushing against her cheek. “You’re not hurting anyone, Y/N. You’re just living your life, and so am I.” He tilted his head, his voice softening. “But when it comes to you, I’m not backing down.”

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. She didn’t know where this was headed, but the way Joe was looking at her, the way the tension between them was thick enough to touch—it was impossible to ignore.

And just like that, she felt everything shift.

“You should stay,” she said, her voice barely audible, but it was enough for Joe to catch the underlying invitation.

His eyes lit up, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something else—something more than just playful teasing. Something deeper. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice low, almost like a promise.

Y/N nodded slowly, not trusting her own emotions in that moment, but giving in anyway. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to fight it anymore. Not tonight.

And so, as the tension finally snapped between them, they both knew that this was just the beginning of whatever it was they were about to dive into.

The questions, the drama, the back-and-forth—it would come, but for now, they had this moment. And neither of them was about to let it slip away.

Joe stepped closer, his fingers brushing hers once more. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” he murmured, as he leaned in to kiss her, the room filling with the tension that had been building for weeks since the last time they seen each other.

But for now, neither of them was thinking about anything but the here and now.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her outfit for the night, her mind still preoccupied with Joe's text from earlier. The flirtation was still fresh, but her and Kayla had made plans for a much-needed girls' night out, and Y/N was trying her hardest to focus on the fun ahead instead of the inevitable tension she and Joe had been dancing around for weeks.

Kayla was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone with a wicked grin plastered on her face. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes when she heard her best friend snicker from behind her.

"What now, Kayla?" Y/N asked, her tone half-impatient, half-amused.

Kayla looked up from her phone, her grin only widening. "Girl, you are ridiculous," she said, sitting up and tossing her phone onto the coffee table. "Joe is literally insatiable. And you’re playing hard to get. Come on, what did he say in that text? You still haven’t told me." She waggled her eyebrows, nudging her best friend with her elbow. "I bet it was something hot, wasn't it?"

Y/N scoffed, but the tiniest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "It’s just him being himself," she replied dismissively, as she grabbed her bag and started to head for the door. "He sent some stupid thing about me keeping him on his toes. But you know how he is. He thinks he's funny."

Kayla wasn’t letting it slide, of course. She stood up, trailing behind Y/N as she headed for the door. "He is funny, but that man’s got some serious need for you. I mean, come on, you can’t tell me you don’t feel it."

Y/N rolled her eyes again, not wanting to get too caught up in her own feelings—or the fact that, deep down, she did feel it. She was just too busy juggling everything—her career, her acting, her music—to get wrapped up in whatever Joe was trying to offer.

"Okay, enough," Y/N said, practically dragging Kayla out the door. "Let's just get to this girls' night and forget about all that for a while. I need a drink."

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Hours later, after plenty of laughs and drinks with Kayla and a few others, Y/N found herself back at the hotel, attempting to decompress after the whirlwind of the night. She was about to change into something more comfortable when she felt her phone buzz on the bed. A quick glance told her it was a message from Joe.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, curiosity getting the best of her. She typed a quick reply, something casual—“What’s up?”—and tossed the phone aside. But her heart skipped a beat when she heard it vibrate a few minutes later.

This time, the text was different.

"Still thinking about you... I’ll make it worth your while next time we’re together."

A smirk tugged at Y/N's lips, but she had learned by now not to get too attached to these types of conversations. She casually sent back, “Maybe, but I’m not sure you deserve it yet.”

She set the phone down again, finally sinking into the plush hotel chair with a sigh.

That was when the phone rang—FaceTime, the screen flashing with a familiar name.

"Joe?" Y/N answered, expecting his smiling face. But instead, her heart nearly stopped when she saw a woman’s face pop up on the screen.

Her smile was wide, almost too wide, and her eyes glittered with a mixture of confidence and something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

“Hello, Y/N,” the woman said, her tone smooth as silk. “It’s so nice to finally talk to you.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped. She blinked a few times, her breath caught in her throat as her mind scrambled for answers.

“Uhm… Who are you?” Y/N managed to get out, her voice shaky despite how hard she was trying to sound cool.

The woman smiled again, her lips curling slightly as if she had anticipated this reaction. “I’m Michelle,” she said, her tone laced with an almost polite mockery. “Joe’s fiancée.”

The room seemed to shrink around Y/N as the words hit her like a punch to the gut.

"Fiancée?" Y/N’s voice came out barely a whisper as her heart stuttered in her chest. "Joe… is… engaged?"

Michelle’s smile didn’t falter, but there was something cold in her eyes. "Yes, we’ve been together for a while now," she said smoothly, her voice like honey, but there was an edge to it. "But I’m sure he’s told you we’re very open about... certain things."

Y/N’s blood went cold, and her fingers tightened on the phone, a mix of confusion, anger, and disbelief swirling inside her. She had no idea how to respond, her mind racing.

Michelle seemed to be enjoying the uncomfortable silence. "Don’t worry," she continued, her tone almost amused. "I’m not here to cause drama. Joe and I have an understanding. He enjoys… his little distractions. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t come back to me at the end of the day."

Y/N's mind spun, trying to process everything, but one thing was clear—this wasn’t just some casual situation like Joe had led her to believe. She had been used for something more than what she was told, and that sting was like a slap across her face.

Before she could respond, the screen flickered, and Michelle’s face disappeared. She was left staring at the dark screen, her heart pounding in her chest.

The room felt suffocating now. She didn’t know whether to be furious, heartbroken, or just utterly disgusted.

Y/N stood up abruptly, the phone slipping from her hands as her mind swirled with confusion and emotions. What had she gotten herself into?

Meanwhile, Kayla, who had been texting a certain someone back and forth all night, had been watching from the other side of the room, and she’d noticed the sudden change in Y/N’s demeanor. Her teasing smile faltered, as she picked up on the tension in the air.

"Girl, what just happened?" Kayla asked, standing up from the couch, her voice low with concern. "That wasn’t Joe, was it?"

Y/N looked up at her, still reeling from what she’d just heard. She didn’t know what to feel anymore.

“Yeah, that was Joe’s fiancée.” Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I guess I wasn’t the only one he was playing with.”

Kayla froze for a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "Wait… what?!"

JB9 Taglist: @lilfreakjez, @dasia21, @superanastasia1981, @gg-trini, @wickedfun9, @irishmanwhore

[bisexualiteaa]

Okay so this has been spinning in my head since I watched the series and it might come across as a but of a strange one 😅

BUT, please could you write one where the reader is pregnant(by someone else), meets Cooper along the way and they hit it off, they go through the pregnancy together, they then in the end they raise this little baby together. Sort of cute fluffy and a lil smutty too. Thank you! ☺️

A Slice of Paradise

Cooper Howard x Pregnant! Fem Reader (SMUT MDNI!!)

CW: slight OOC Cooper, slight deviation from the show, slight deviation from the game, pregnancy, pregnancy cravings, pregnancy hormones, blood, canon typical violence and gore, dirty jokes, cursing, talk of kinks, biting, 🩸 kink, p in v, unprotected seggs, p0rn with little plot, mention of knives, possible grammar/spelling errors, not proofread

AN: thank you anon for your request! My apologies that I’m getting to these asks so late, life has been rather eventful and I’m only just getting back into the swing of writing after forever long writers block. 🥲 I thank you for your patience and apologize that there isn’t a whole lot of fluff in this one but that it absolutely has ✨S P I C E.✨ Hope y’all enjoy my attempted return to writing for our dearest cowpoke, love you all! ♥️

Taglist: @expirednukacola

Trying to survive out in the wastelands while pregnant was not how you had imagined your life to be when you first found out that you were going to be having a baby. When you had first learned that you were pregnant, you were living comfortably within one of the vaults that dwelled beneath the irradiated surface. You had been matched with a fellow vault dweller who they deemed befitting in their mission to “help repopulate the surface” and in an effort to help your people, you agreed to the arrangement. The overseer, and all the other scientists and workers within the vault, claimed that there was no residence or anything living in general, up on the surface and that it would be up to you and your neighbors to fix that. Never in a million years did you think that vault life would go to such complete and utter shit that you would have to come to the surface in order to survive. Never in a million years did you also think that you would find anyone up here willing to stick by your side and not try to kill you in your sleep, and when you did, you had never expected your company to be that of a Wild West cowboy styled, bounty hunting ghoul. Needless to say, life up here was so vastly different than what they had spoken of in the vaults, that some days you swore it couldn’t be real, that it was all just one big fucked up dream that you’d wake up from any time now. But no, this was all very much real. If you made it out of this alive and long enough to see the world even somewhat recover, you were going to write a book on the long list of weird shit you’ve been through.

“I said, give me the damn supplies. NOW!” you spat angrily, pointing the barrel of your gun directly to a raider’s forehead as an extremely angry scowl came to rest across your face. “I suggest you do as the lady asks, kid. She ain’t someone you wanna mess with” Cooper spoke chillingly with a grin, knowing your pregnancy hormones were in full effect today, leaving you moody as all get out, and on days like this, you weren’t afraid to cause bodily harm, or worse, to get what you wanted or craved. Your baggy shirts hid your pregnant belly well, though you were only just now reaching somewhere around four months along, you still didn’t want strangers knowing you were pregnant. God only knows what people do out here to women with babies, and the last thing you needed was someone thinking it made you weak enough to take advantage of.

When the raider’s reaction wasn’t quick enough to your liking, you fired on him without a shred of remorse. Stepping past his limp, dead body to retrieve the box of supplies that you demanded for the bounty Cooper had completed, along with a healthy amount of caps, stimpacks and other supplies from off of his body. “It’s gon’ be one of those days, huh?” Cooper asked, taking the box from you because he might not be the kindest man, but he wasn’t about to make a pregnant lady lug a heavy box of supplies across the desert either. Granted, he knew it was probably wrong of him to insinuate what he had or to poke fun at you the way he was, the grimace and absolute apathy on your face as you shot the raider in cold blood gave him all he needed for his answer, but he knew all too well how to poke the bear, and enjoyed doing so far too much for your liking most days. “Yes. I’m fucking hungry, craving that stupid cram and he was pissing me off. Took too damn long to give us what we’re owed” you answered, your hand coming to your stomach as you complained. “We? That’s a bit of a strong word there, little lady. ‘Cause if I recall correctly, it was me who finished that bounty” he said, enjoying getting on your every last nerve on the worst days possible to do so. It was sadistic sure, but it reminded him of the days when his ex-wife was pregnant with their baby girl. In a twisted sort of way it reminded him of home. “You tryin’ to tell me you’re gonna leave a pregnant lady out in the desert all by her lonesome? Damn, I knew you were cold, didn’t think you were that cold” you joked back, making him laugh dryly. “Oh trust me honey, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet” he said, making you laugh. Thank god you were on his good side, you’d seen all the horrifying things he was capable of, or perhaps all the things he’s let you see that he was capable of. Regardless, you were glad he considered you a friend rather than foe.

Well, friend was a strong word once upon a time, but now? You two seemed to tread on a line somewhere between platonic and romantic, jumping back and forth between it like a tricky game of hopscotch. Though you could never be sure, like the rest of the ghoul, he was shrouded in much mystery. His heart and intentions were certainly no exception to that. “Woulda at least let the poor kid have a chance first, unlike you. So I guess you ain’t gettin’ that much farther behind me there, girly” he commented, making you chuckle at the remark and you supposed he had a point, you really didn’t give the raider enough time but your patience has been running thinner and thinner as of late. So you did as you always do, blame the pregnancy and what the hormones were doing to your brain, or make a snide joke at Cooper. “I’d blame the baby again for it, but maybe you’re just a bad influence” you quipped, making him chuckle dryly. “Honey, I am an awful influence” he replied, making you laugh as you both walked. “You aren’t so bad sometimes. But maybe it’s just ’cause you like me” you responded with a devious grin, making him shake his head playfully in denial. “Best watch it, my kindness’s got limits darlin’ and they get smaller and smaller everyday” he said, making you chuckle. “Likely story. I cook too good for you to kick me to the dusty curb” you teased, and it was true, you were too good at cooking but also too good looking to pass up. More personally, you were a reminder of the good ol’ days before all the wasteland bullshit started. A reminder of the family he once had. He craved oh so desperately to have that little slice of heaven back, and you scratched that itch in a near perfect way that he just couldn’t let you go. Whether he liked it or not, he knew he was growing attached, and as much as he didn’t like it, he knew there was no helping it either. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe if you felt the same way he did, you both could have a little family together once your baby was born. A daydream he often thought of, but that was for another time. Right now, he needed to focus on keeping you safe as you both looked for a spot to shack up for the night.

As you made it somewhere safe, or as “safe” as safe gets out here for the night, you didn’t waste time making some food to keep you, the baby and Cooper fed after a long day’s travel. “That looks about as appetizing as a hog’s ass in swamp water” he spoke as he looked to your bowl filled with Blamco Mac n Cheese and cubed up Cram all mixed together in instant mash. “Don’t judge me, it isn’t me that’s wanting it so damn bad, it’s the baby” you replied, making him chuckle. Sounded exactly like what his ex-wife used to say when she had some outlandish craving when she was pregnant. “Besides, that’s coming from the one that eats people” you quipped as you horked down your entire bowl with lightning speed, making him tilt his head to the side. “Touché” he responded before turning your way when he caught you standing up out of the corner of his eye. He watched as you rolled your tense shoulders and attempted to massage your lower back to relieve the ache that began to culminate there but with the displeased look on your face, it appeared your efforts were fruitless. You hobbled over to sit by the fire, finding yourself walking rather funny from the ache in your feet and the tension throbbing in your tight calves. “You’re a walkin’ hot mess there, girlfriend” he teased, watching you squat to sit down next to him as you attempted to rub your back once more with a pained hiss. You gave a defeated, and equally pained, groan after chuckling at his quip. “Tell me about it. Had I known I’d have to manage up here, I’d have never gotten pregnant in the first place” you replied, rubbing your stomach after your hands once again could not provide you the relief from the tension your body craved to be freed from. “How far ‘long are ya now?” He asked, and you genuinely had to sit there and think about it for a moment. You figured with the way you were only really just starting to show more prominently that you were just about four months along, but you couldn’t honestly remember no matter how hard you tried. “What day is it?” You asked genuinely, making him laugh. “Shit, you don’t even know. That’ll be one hell of a surprise down the road when it pops out at the worst possible timin’” he joked, making you chuckle. “It’ll be a blessing, to finally stop carrying around the extra weight right on top of my bladder and allow some other things to shrink down a little bit maybe” you said, making him hum in amusement.

“I think it looks good on you. Plump is hard to come by these days and you sugar, got one nice lookin’ peach” he said shamelessly, making you laugh as he talked about your ass. “That why you like makin’ me walk in front of you all the time?” You asked with a grin, making him grin. “Can’t say it ain’t one of the reasons” he replied, making you laugh. “Careful, hormones are one hell of a thing to mess with when you’re talking to a pregnant lady. Suggest you don’t go starting something you can’t finish there, Coop” you threatened playfully, making him chuckle at your response. “Oh I can finish it, don’t you worry. It’s you that wouldn’t be able to keep up with me, sweetheart. ‘Specially not like that” he said, making you grin and give an intrigued hum at the challenge he was presenting you with. “Ain’t no love makin’ up here baby-doll, it’s straight up fuckin’. Sure we take our time with it, make ya feel good because it ain’t easy to come by, but it ain’t nothin’ like that soft vanilla shit you vaulties do” he said, making you grin as you leaned back on your hands and you saw the way his eyes almost immediately roamed your body. From your neck, down to your full tits that seemed to have gotten a little bigger since last time he looked at you real good, then to that cute little bump in your tummy, down to your hips and thighs that he just wanted to get a nice handful of. He wondered how soft you would feel in his rough hands, if you’d like the contrast. “Oh yeah? Think I don’t have kinks and shit like that just ‘cause I was in a vault? Can promise you some of us “vaulties” get our rocks off in similar ways to you wasteland folk” you responded, waiting to hear what his rebuttal would be. “Oh yeah? Like what?” He asked, watching you grin to yourself as you gave a soft chuckle. Normally you would never forgo this type of information about yourself, but it was a whole different world up here in the wastes, and this was a whole different you from that woman who came stumbling out that vault just some few months ago.

“Well, obviously one of those kinks is what got me pregnant in the first place” you started, making him chuckle because despite it not being anything crazy, it was still a little more interesting than some. “I like being choked, but I feel like everyone likes that one so that might as well still be vanilla” you said, making him laugh because you were right, that shit isn’t a kink up here, it’s standard practice. “So you think you like it rough, huh?” He asked as he pulled out his hunting knife, cleaning it while you both conversed oddly casually about kinks. His question made you blush a bit, it caught you off guard that he put two and two together so quickly. “I don’t think, I know I do” you answered truthfully, making him grin. “Hell, I bet you ain’t seen rough. I’d reckon you ain’t ever been manhandled by someone or used as a means of blowin’ off some steam” he said, looking at his reflection in the knife and watching the way you looked at him as he handled it. You might have thought he missed it, but he noticed the subtle way your thighs clenched together as he fiddled with it and talked about you being used and tossed around like a rag doll. “I have, just not…well, it wasn’t very good but they at least tried I guess?” You said, almost as if you were asking him and not telling him, making him laugh. “You askin’ me or tellin’ me? ‘Cause you sure as hell don’t sound so sure anymore” he replied, making you sigh. “Fuck it, who am I kidding? It was fucking awful. It wasn’t at all what I wanted it to be” you quickly admitted, making him hum in reply. “I will say…you’ve made me discover a few new ones since we started traveling together” you said almost nonchalantly, and that most certainly caught his attention. “Oh yeah? And what might those be?” He asked, genuinely curious of what he could have done to awaken something in you. “People in my vault were afraid to be rough, whether during sex or not but you aren’t and I like that a lot about you. I know you probably think I’m joking when I say I like “rough” or think I have no idea what rough entails but I do. I like being tied up, having knives involved, and getting manhandled and stuff like that” you said, making him chuckle at the very innocent seeming you, admitting to liking dangerous things. “That so, vaultie?” He asked, not wishing to admit just how much your bashful admission had gotten to him and instead was thankful for making you roll your eyes at the nickname to avoid catching sight of the issue beginning to grow in his pants at all the ideas now rummaging through his brain like a rampant wildfire. “That why you like starin’ at my knife each time I use it? And why you didn’t protest when I tied you up when we first met?” He asked, and you were almost mortified at his question, knowing now that he’d noticed all the times you’d sat there, infatuated by the way he used it. Embarrassed that he caught the look in your eyes the first time his fierce ones met your own as he bound your wrists together and walked around with you like a prisoner on a leash. “Yeah…didn’t think you caught me on it though. But enough about me and my kinks, how ‘bout you? What about sex with you is so different, huh?” You asked, trying your best to move the subject away from you but your question was like the cherry on top of his fucked up thoughts, making an evil grin stretch to his lips as you laid the perfect opportunity out for him to take.

“How ‘bout you come and find out for yourself, sugar?” He asked, taking you off guard by his advance, but you couldn’t deny the way it sent a surge of heat straight to your core at such a straight forward answer. The pregnancy hormones had been eating you alive lately, making you stare at him in ways you shouldn’t have, thinking about him in ways you knew you shouldn’t. Old you would have kicked yourself for thinking the way you had been and allowing yourself to seem so desperate, but you two were close enough at this point. It wasn’t as if you were stooping low enough to just fuck some random stranger. Well, scratch that, you sort of did that already because that’s how you wound up pregnant in the first place. Thanks Vault-Tec. Maybe it wouldn’t be so wrong, or seem so desperate of you after all. He chuckled at your look of shock at his reply, making you blush in embarrassment that you were nearly frozen, unsure of what to do or what to think when you normally always had something to sass him back with. “C’mon now, surely ya didn’t think this wouldn’t end up happenin’ did you? We been layin’ it on thick with each other f’ too damn long now to play that game” he said with such confidence, it almost pissed you off but you couldn’t be mad, not when the pregnancy hormones made you so incredibly horny for this man that you could hardly think of anything else. Your mind was swimming at all the ideas of what he could be capable of, what he had the potential to do. You were left truly wondering just how different, and possibly how much better of an experience it would be with him rather than the last time you’d had sex. You wondered if it would really be any different than what you and your fellow vault dwellers were accustomed to or if maybe he was talking up a big game to get you interested. Regardless of whether it was talk or not, it had the effect on you he was hoping it would, because now you were past the point of pretending you didn’t want to find out, you needed to know. You felt as your core began to ache, excitement beginning to collect in the pit of your stomach as your panties grew damp at all your dirty thoughts. “Honestly I…I-I didn’t know it passed your mind like it has been on mine” you admitted with a deeper blush, making him chuckle as he moved closer. “So ya do think of me? Well ain’t that cute” he replied. “Hard not to think about you like that when I’m watchin’ them nice big hips sway whenever you walk in front a me” he added, making you chuckle as your cheeks burned about as hot as the campfire. “I haven’t uhh…I haven’t *done anything* since I got pregnant so, I’m not really sure how to go about it but, if you’d be willing, I’d like to find out just how different it is to be with you” you said so sweetly, almost innocently and damn it if it didn’t make him feel some type of way. He chuckled to himself a little. “Looks like you’re in luck then. Even luckier that it’s with someone who’s got a little more experience in this field than the average hit ‘n quit” he said, and that’s what stopped you for a moment. Was that all that this was going to be for him? A one night thing to settle some curiosity, then go right back to the way things were? After all this time spent traveling together and getting close to him, you didn’t want that to be the case. It was in that moment you’d realized just how much you genuinely cared for the ghoul who was in your company.

“On one condition” you said, making him raise a non existent brow at you, curious to hear what you had to say. “It’s more than just a one time thing. I don’t…I don’t do flings. Call me a “deluded little vaultie” for it or whatever else you want, but I only want this if you want it to go somewhere, even if it ain’t anything more than a fuck buddy situation” you said, and truth be told he wasn’t completely sure on what he wanted. He knew it had been a long time since last he had a chance to do something like this with someone, and that he liked you but he also knew the thing going on between you had been going on for long enough, why not see where it goes? “Trust me sugar, if you’re still here travelin’ with me, ain’t none of it gonna be without somethin’ behind it. Had you asked me when we first met? I’d have told ya different, but against all better judgement ya managed to get me attached to ya. This is me tellin’ you to pay your consequence for bein’ such a damn tease all the time” he responded with a grin that relieved your every nerve, his hand coming to grab yours and moving it to the tent in his pants to prove his point, making you grin and chuckle. “Didn’t know I get you that worked up” you replied teasingly as you moved closer. “Imma let you in on a simple rule I like to live by, little lady; you cause it, you fix it” he said, and you grinned as you grabbed his hand, pulling it to slide beneath your shorts to rest outside your panties that were getting wetter and wetter with your excitement. “Looks like you got some responsibility to take too then, cowpoke” you said with a grin, and that’s when he knew this would lead to something good.

You smiled into your shared kiss, shocked to find the slightly chapped, thin irradiated lips to feel so nice against your own. It wasn’t sweet like the kisses you’d had before, it was carnal, passionate even. Driven by pure lust and god did it make you melt. Your hands came to rest on the back of his neck as you straddled his lap. Your knees were dug into the sand beneath his sleeping bag without a care in the world as his hands groped your ass and sensitive tits. You moaned as his lips and teeth soon worked at your weak spot on your neck, making you roll your hips against him as your eyes fluttered shut. You held onto him as you rocked your hips back and forth, earning a groan from the ghoul below you. “Fuck, Cooper…please” you whined, making him pull away from your neck to click his tongue at you. “You can beg all you want, but I ain’t skippin’ over the good parts just ‘cause you’re gettin’ antsy” he said with a grin up at you before popping open the buttons of your beat up flannel shirt and latching onto one of your breasts, sucking on the sensitive bud. You normally were self conscious of the fact that you’d foregone wearing a bra in favor of comfort, but in this moment you couldn’t be more thankful that it was one less article of clothing to worry about taking off. You moaned as his fingers toyed with the other side, pinching harshly as his teeth would occasionally nip at your perked bud or the soft skin around it, but being sure to give your tits equal love and attention. Rather shocked that you hadn’t yelped or drawn back at his rougher display to your overly sensitive nipples, he continued. “Fuck…” you whined, feeling as one of his hands dragged down to the waistband of your underwear, before working his hand beneath it to your clit. His fingers worked tight circles along your aching bud, leaving your head devoid of all thoughts as he brought you the pleasure your body had been craving for ages. You hated the way you felt so close to your impending release already, having been pent up since even before leaving the vaults, and now that you were pregnant, you were even more sensitive to it all. “Oh god, Cooper…” you panted out, your strained, pleading voice like music to his ruined ears as you moaned his name. “Doin’ good for me sweetheart” he praised, only adding fuel to the fire that was ready to consume you at any moment.

You moaned blissfully at the pleasurably painful stretch of him working his way inside of you finally. God how you ached for that feeling, to be stretched and filled in ways nothing else could give you other than him. “Damn you’re a tight little thing” he commented, already moving and setting a pace without giving you time to adjust. It was bliss, the painful draw out but the pleasurable thrust back in. You just couldn’t get enough. “Normally this is where I’d throw you around and fuck you absolutely stupid, but last thing I want is t’ hurt that baby” he said, making you wish you could know what it felt like to be used by him, to be thrown around and taken by him but you knew you couldn’t, not yet. “Maybe I’ll just give ‘em a sibling instead, how’s that sound, sweetheart?” he asked in your ear in a low rasp as the sound of skin slapping skin started to fill the air. A pleasant, tingling shudder ran down your spine at the prospect of it, clearly he hadn’t forgotten that first kink you’d told him about. He gave a grin, feeling the way your walls fluttered around his dick from his words, and seeing the effect it had on you left him nearly feral. Guess you weren’t lying when you said one of those kinks of yours was the reason you were pregnant. “Yeah? You’d like that wouldn’t you, sweet thing?” He asked, knowing the answer but he loved the way he had you absolutely cock drunk on him too much to not try and hear from you. “Yes! Fuck, I’d love that, please!” you said through your moans, making him chuckle. “I betchu would” he said all smug and proud. “Bet you get off on the idea ‘f fuckin’ someone who could rip you t’ shreds, dontchya sugar? Ya like it dangerous” he said, making you shake your head yes in reply. “Yes! Fuck- Cooper!” You moaned into the midnight air, your back arched from the ground as you moved your hips to meet his thrusts, desperately chasing your high. “Look good like this, sprawled out below me all helpless and vulnerable. I could just eat you alive” he said with a sadistic grin, his lips just below your ear, his breath ghosting your neck as he rocked his hips into you. “Bet you’d taste so fuckin’ good” he added, groaning through gritted teeth as he watched your engorged tits bounce with each harsh thrust, fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your soft, smooth skin. “Why don’t you- fuck! Have a taste and find out?” You replied, making him look up at you with a wild look in his eyes. It was untamed, feral even and by god if they weren’t the most magical words he’d ever heard. “Shit, don’t play with me” he said, looking at your neck and shoulder, practically drooling over the idea of how you would taste. “I ain’t playin’, bite me” you insisted, and with that, he surely wasn’t going to pass down such a beautiful opportunity.

His blunt teeth sunk into the flesh of your shoulder, making you hiss as a white, hot pain coursed through the muscle before simmering into something more pleasurable. “Shit! Cooper- fuck me, that feels good” You moaned as he almost seemed to use his teeth to attach himself to you as he rutted into you with reckless abandon, leaving you writhing beneath him in pleasure. His eyes rolled back as a moan left him from the taste of your blood flooding his tongue, you were even more delicious than he originally anticipated. Crimson coated his lips and teeth, a small stream even leaking from the corner of his mouth and down the column of his neck as he detached himself from you. He’d gotten his taste, given you an experience you certainly wouldn’t forget, but the sight below him was certainly one he would forever commit to memory. The imprint of his teeth marks that marred your otherwise perfect skin, deep purple beginning to blossom around it as blood faintly trickled down your chest from the fresh wound. If you weren’t delicious before, you were absolutely delectable now. He ran his tongue along the trail of blood, the hot, wet muscle leaving a trail of saliva in its wake as he traveled back up to the source before laving his tongue across the punctures in your skin that he left. “Freaky little thing” he said, grinning at the way you had enjoyed feeling him sink his teeth into you and allowing him to taste you in such a manner. “Told ya” you quipped before being cut off by your own moan as he found that sweet spot deep inside of you, brushing past it with almost perfect precision. “Right there! Fuck, just like that. So close…” you whined, making him chuckle. “Go ‘head sweetheart, let go for me” he permitted, and with that, the coil in your core snapped, sending you toppling over the edge into an orgasm so earth shattering you swore you were no longer on this earth in that moment. Cooper was quick to withdraw from you, wanting nothing more than to feel the sweet way your gummy walls would hug him as he came inside of you, but he couldn’t bare the thought of putting that precious baby of yours at any more risk. For now he would have to settle on finishing on you rather than in you, but the sight of you covered in his cum was surely another marvelous one to behold in his eyes. From the way your eyes sat lazily half lidded, to the way his seed looked upon your chest and stomach, he had to admit, it certainly wasn’t a sight to complain about.

You both took a moment to bask in the afterglow of your orgasms, coming down from cloud nine to do your best at steadying your breathing. The gentleman he was, he helped in cleaning you up, offering you some Rad Away to take when you were finally able to pick yourself up from his sleeping bag. “Sate your curiosity?” He asked with a grin as he slipped his pants back on and his duster, lighting up a cigarette to enjoy as he sat next to you. You gave a laugh as you redressed. “Sated my curiosity for tonight, but never know what these hormones have in store for me tomorrow” you replied, making him laugh dryly. “Suppose I can’t argue with that logic” he said, making you giggle as you took the Rad Away and got ready to sleep, thankful for the warmth his body provided in the frigid temperature of the desert night air. You weren’t sure what tomorrow would bring for you two, but at least you knew it was something you both could grow to explore. Maybe that slice of heaven wasn’t such a distant memory after all.

[nescaveckwriter]

Heyy! Can I request a Dean Winchester x reader with an established relationship where they have to deal with a case for which they have to dress up all nice, and reader usually wear baggy clothes or clothing that hides most of her body and for the first time, he sees reader in a tight fitting dress and he's just

😍 "shit, that's my woman?!"

And he's just over the moon even more for reader (if that's even possible)

😱💓🥰... Awww sweetheart this is such a cute idea, I just simply love it, also thanks for asking, I really do hope you like, this little drabble, I've written is what you had in mind💓 anywayz I hope you have an epic day, love ... 🐞💓🥰

A/N: I love receiving requests, so keep em coming 😅

Warnings: 18+Only, Some mention of violence, and intimacy, but nothing to much, light foul language. And Pure FLUFF 🥳😘💕

Pictures used: Pinterest

Copyright: Please do not copy, my work.

Words: 1189 😘

Lady in Red 💕

His husky voice lingers in the air, oh how I loved the sound of his voice, we have been together for a few years now, and somehow hearing him, looking at him, never got old. His green eyes caught mine, helding it captive, because I mean who wouldn't drown in those emerald green orbs, mouthing with his plum lips across the table, "I love you" as Sam discussed the plan with us. Mouthing back "I love you too Dean". Looking at each other as if we were the only people in the room.

"Really you two?" Sam looked at the two of them, "we need to focus, the two of you need to pose as a high end, couple, for this charity event, so I need both of you too listen" Dean and I looked a little guilty, but then Dean smirked "bite me" I chuckled a little, the way Sam's face has irritation written all over..

Sam looked at me, eyeing the oversized clothing I always wear, oh he didn't want to say it out loud but, I knew what he was thinking, how am I going to look the part?. I barely even wear makeup or do my hair, but like who would not want to be comfortable when you're fighting monsters and ghosts. I smile, "Don't worry boys, I'll dress the part" Dean gave me this surprised almost scolding look sounding sincere, "You are beautiful sweetheart, I don't care what you wear, your beautiful" he walked up to me, and without hesitation he pulled me into an endearing kiss, his hands resting on my hips, I heard Sam, mumbling "Oh! Give me a break" and walk out, leaving the two of us, I could feel the way Dean smiled, against my lips. After a few more seconds, we came up for air, sounding breathy ,"Babe you should stop terrorising your brother so much" he simply smirked "Not my fault Sammy is so easily annoyed" I laugh, starting to turn away from him, "I need to go and get ready for tonight's event, you too mister" he grabbed my wrist, "Come here sweetheart" he pulled me close to him, looking into my eyes, "you know I love you right, more than anything in this world?" I smiled, looking at this gorgeous man in front of me, his freckles, my damn weakness, "Mhmm you see I know that's not true" surprised he looks at me "what?" Chuckling a bit "what about baby?" Referencing the love for his Chevrolet Impala, standing in the garage, he burst into laughter "You are driving me crazy woman, now go get ready" giving me a playful slap on the rear. I walk away, smiling, my heart bursting with love and joy.

He smiles as he watches her walk away, wearing loose fitting jeans one of his t-shirts and some flannel, hair in a messy bun, it's true he didn't care what she wore, she's so beautiful for him, but he would be lying, if he said he wasn't curious what she'll look like all dressed up, for some reason that's beyond him, she always thinks she's not pretty, but oh how far that could be from the truth, he knows every single inch of her body, every little spot that makes her tickle, every Little sensitive part, that makes her moan in pleasure, he loves her, even more than his car, but he'll never admit it.

Checking himself in the mirror, mumbling "I hate these monkey suits" as he struggled with his bow tie. He walks around the bunker searching for Sam, of course he finds his little brother's nose buried in those damn books, "Sammy help a man out?" Sam looks up, "you can hunt some of the most dangerous creatures, but you can't fix a tie?" The glare Dean gives him shows he isn't happy at the remark, he gets up, helping his big brother fix the tie.

Sam's eyes widens, his mouth falls open, Dean looks at him "What's your problem?" Sam could barely utter a single word he was stunned to say the least, Dean followed his eyes and when Dean turned around, his breathing hitched, his heart rate went up, he slightly gasped for air, taking in the beauty before him, his eyes wandered over her. Her hair draped over her shoulders, her eyes glistening, her smile could light up the darkest of rooms, wearing a red tight fitting dress. The high cut slit in her dress, exposing her right leg, the crystal like heels, making her seem taller, her legs leaner, the low halter cut, just exposing enough of her collar bone, to leave something for the imagination.

Without saying a word, Dean gestured for her to turn, the back of the dress, totally exposed, just covered her lower back. He bit his lower lip, and with the back of his hand, hitting against Sam's chest, his voice sounding a bit more husky, "shit, that's my woman?!" She laughed and her voice rang, "Last time I checked, I was all yours"

All the way to the event Dean could barely keep his eyes on the road.

When he led her through the doors, his hand rested on the curve of her back, so many eyes were on her, and he slightly chuckled when she whispered "why are they all looking at me?" As if she doesn't know she's beautiful! So he just smiled, took her hand, and asked "do me the honour and dance with me?" She did a little playful dip, "the honour would be all mine" before he pulled her close, he gave her a once over. He never saw the highlights in your hair, that caught your eyes, or the dress you're wearing tonight, he pulls you close. Dancing cheek to cheek, the way she feels this close to him, her small hands on his shoulders, his calloused hands, in the small of her back, sending electric shocks through her spine, swaying with the music, maybe Dean's caught up in the moment, but there's a question weighing on him for months, but now, now it feels like the right moment, he's voice sounded deeper than normal as he whispered, hot air brushing against her neck "Sweetheart?"

Slightly breathy, "Yes?" He cleared his throat, "make me the happiest man alive, and be my wife?"

Her swaying body came to a stop , "A...are you asking me" he cut her off, pulled back looking in her eyes, "yes, will you marry me?" I couldn't believe it, he just asked me to be forever his, without further due, I planted a kiss on his plum lips, soft tears rolling down my cheeks, he smiled against her soft lips, "is that a yes?" I break the kiss, smiling widely, "yes a million times yes" he laughed, picked her up, gave a twirl, and placed her down, his fingers intertwined with hers. Giving me that signature smirk, "What do you, say Mrs Winchester let's go catch that shifter, then we celebrate with some pie and beer?" I laughed, nodding, as happy as can be, "lead the way Mr Winchester".

@k-slla @jackles010378 @winchesterwild78 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl @angelbabyyy99 @pia-bartolini

[scarletwinterxx]

sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me - mark lee scenario

helloooo ~ so years ago i wrote this cute mark scenario & just wanted to write a kind of part 2 for it😅 you can still read this on its own but if you want more mark fluff and haven't read the other one, i'll link it below

pt 1. they say all good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you

soooo i hope you like this one too🤍 and stream Fraktsiya !!

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

The stadium buzzes with energy as the crowd cheers for the players warming up on the field. You’re perched on the bleachers with your cheer squad, your pompoms resting beside you, but your eyes are glued to one person: Mark.

He’s on the field, stretching and joking with his teammates, his smile lighting up the entire atmosphere. He looks so effortlessly cool in his uniform, his cap pulled low over his eyes as he adjusts his glove. He catches your gaze and gives you a wink that makes your heart flutter.

One of his teammates—Jason—sidles up to him, saying something that makes Mark’s playful demeanor shift. You notice Jason’s head tilt subtly in your direction, and when Mark turns his gaze back toward you, his expression hardens.

Oh no.

Jason waves at you with an easy grin, and you smile politely, waving back.

Mark’s jaw clenches. Even from a distance, you can tell he’s annoyed. He mutters something to Jason, who just laughs and claps him on the back before jogging to his position on the field.

You shake your head, already anticipating the conversation you’re going to have later.

The game is intense, a nail-biter from start to finish, and the cheer squad is doing their best to keep the crowd hyped. But you? You’re too busy silently cheering for Mark with every pitch he throws, every time he sprints across the field.

And when the final out is called, the victory roar of the crowd is deafening. Mark’s team swarms the field, celebrating their win.

You’re grinning ear to ear, clapping and hollering with the rest of the crowd. But before you can head down to congratulate him, you see him jogging—no, sprinting—toward you.

“Mark?” you call out, confused, as he vaults over the low fence separating the stands from the field.

He doesn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he reaches you in seconds, his hands grabbing your waist as he lifts you clean off the ground.

“You’re wearing my jersey,” he says, his voice a mix of awe and possessiveness as he spins you around.

You laugh, clutching his shoulders for balance. “Yeah, I found it in your closet. Thought it might bring you luck.”

He sets you down but doesn’t let go, his hands sliding to your hips as he takes a step back to admire the sight. His old jersey. Faded and a little oversized but fits you perfectly in that effortlessly adorable way. The number 02, his number, is printed across the back. You wore it as your cheertop for this game to show support to him.

“You look so good in this,” he murmurs, his voice low enough to make your cheeks heat.

“Mark, people are staring,” you whisper, suddenly self-conscious.

“Let them.” His eyes darken slightly, a mischievous glint in them. “They should know who you belong to.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart flips at his words. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re mine,” he counters, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Suddenly, Jason passes by, tossing a cheeky, “Nice jersey,” over his shoulder.

Mark’s grip tightens ever so slightly, his jaw ticking. He glances back at you, his expression softening as he pulls you closer.

“Next time, I’ll make sure the whole team knows you’re off-limits,” he mutters, his lips brushing your ear.

“You’re such a jealous dork,” you tease, though you can’t stop smiling.

“Maybe,” he admits, his grin boyish now. “But I’m your jealous dork.”

Before you can respond, he kisses you.

Full of adrenaline and affection, the roar of the crowd fading into the background.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and his smile is the kind that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world.

“You brought me luck,” he says softly.

“You didn’t need it,” you reply, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “You’re amazing all on your own.”

“Maybe. But you’re still my good-luck charm,” he says, tugging you into another hug as his teammates start yelling for him to join their celebration.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, jogging backward toward the team, his eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t move. I’m coming right back for you!”

You laugh, shaking your head as you watch him go. The game may have been the victory everyone came to see, but for you, the real win was having Mark.

Always.

The door to your shared favorite spot on campus the little café by the baseball field — swings open, and there he is. Mark Lee.

His dark cap is turned backward, hair sticking out in soft tufts that you’d given up trying to resist running your fingers through. His bag hangs off one shoulder, his baseball jersey slightly rumpled. He spots you in your usual booth, a bright smile breaking across his face as he walks over.

"Hey, babe," he greets, sliding into the seat next to you instead of across. His arm immediately finds its way around your shoulders, pulling you close enough to smell the faint remnants of his body wash.

You nudge him playfully. “Shouldn’t you be at practice right now?”

Mark grins, leaning in until his nose brushes yours. “We just won the game last week I think coach won't miss me that much besides what’s more important, baseball or you? Actually, don’t answer. It’s rhetorical.”

“Mark,” you laugh, shaking your head, “Coach is going to kill you.”

“Coach loves me.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, then smirks. “Not as much as I love you, though.”

Your cheeks flush, and you give him a soft shove, but the grin on your face betrays your embarrassment. He notices and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Seriously, though,” he says after a beat, his tone softening. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Something important.”

“What’s up?” You tilt your head, curious

Mark glances around the café. A couple of guys from the team are sitting at a table near the window, their laughter echoing.

One of them waves at you, and you offer a polite smile. Mark notices, his jaw tightening just slightly, but then he’s back to looking at you with those warm, honey-brown eyes.

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Let’s get out of here. I can’t focus when you’re being ogled by half the campus.”

“Mark,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “They’re just saying hi. You don’t need to—”

“Nope, no arguments,” he interrupts, standing and grabbing your hand. “C’mon, I have a plan.”

A few minutes later, you’re walking hand-in-hand toward his car, the late afternoon sun casting golden highlights in his hair. He opens the passenger door for you like always, flashing that boyish grin when you mutter, “Such a gentleman.”

As he drives, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh, you notice he seems a little nervous.

“Mark, are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

“Weird?” He glances at you, feigning offense. “I’m never weird.”

You give him a look. “Mark.”

He sighs, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Alright, fine. I wanted to wait until we were somewhere nice to ask, but…” He pulls into the parking lot of the park where you two had your first date, putting the car in park and turning to face you.

“What’s going on?” you ask, heart suddenly racing.

Mark reaches for your hands, holding them tightly. His thumbs trace little circles against your skin.

“So, we’re about to graduate, right?” he starts, his voice soft but steady.

“Yeah…”

“And we’ve been together for four years. Four amazing, insane years where I’ve somehow managed to not screw this up.” He chuckles nervously.

“Mark,” you whisper, squeezing his hands. “You’re rambling.”

“Right. Okay.” He takes a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. “Move in with me.”

Your breath catches.

“I mean, after graduation,” he adds quickly, his words tumbling out now. “We’ll get a place together—somewhere cozy but nice. I’ll even let you decorate because you’re way better at that stuff. And I’ll cook sometimes. You know, when it’s not just instant ramen or cereal. And we can… we can just be together. Every day.”

You’re staring at him, speechless, and he’s starting to look panicked.

“Unless you don’t want to,” he rushes out. “Which is totally fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but—”

You cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “Yes, Mark, of course, yes.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his smile brighter than the sun. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Mark lets out a relieved laugh, his hands sliding to your waist as he kisses you—soft at first, then deeper, more fervent. You lose yourself in the warmth of his lips, the familiar way he cradles your face like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

When you finally pull away, breathless and giddy, he rests his forehead against yours.

“I promise I’ll make you happy,” he murmurs.

“You already do,” you reply, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

He smirks, leaning back against the seat. “So… does this mean I get to be the little spoon sometimes?”

You burst out laughing. “Mark Lee, I swear—”

But before you can finish, he’s pulling you back into his arms, tickling your sides until you’re both a breathless, tangled mess of laughter and kisses.

If this is what life with Mark will be like, you can’t wait for forever.

[d3adp00ls]

Omg what if Vanessa x reader where they are married and they have a nice slow day where they are on ther periods or something and are super clingy and touchy and make cake or something

Heart To Heart

Vanessa (fnaf movie) x reader

Summary: See request

Contents: Pure fluff like seriously I’m single and writing this shit made me feel lonely, periods, so that means talk of blood, Vanessa is literally me in the beginning, food fights, attempt at baking, tickle fight, kisses, i want someone like this.

Word count: Go to McDonalds and ask for a double quarter pounder with fries and chicken nuggets with bbq sauce, the cashier should then tell you what the word count is.

side note: I got carried away ngl and now it’s less of a period fic than it is just a goofy fluff fic and I’m sorry about that anon 😅if you don’t like this one feel free to request another period fic and I can definitely try again. ALSO, I WAS LISTENING TO HEART TO HEART BY MAC DEMARCO ON REPEAT WHILE WRITING THIS, AND ISTG THAT SONG MAKES ME FEEL THINGS!!

Side note #2: I hate cake…I STILL WROTE ABOUT CAKE THO CUZ I KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT (kudos to my older sister for teaching me when I was younger)…but I hate it it tastes like dirt with frosting on it I never liked it. ALSO AS YOU CAN SEE HOW USED MY BIG BRAIN AND REALIZED I COULD NAME THE STORY AFTER THE SONG I PLAYED ON REPEAT LIKE A GENIUS.

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The warm sunlight poured in through the windows, casting a gentle glow over you and Vanessa as you snuggled in your shared bed. Your bodies were entwined beneath the soft covers, and as the light stirred you awake, you nuzzled your face into Vanessa's chest. She responded by pulling you closer and resting her head on top of yours. Just as you were about to drift back to sleep, a loud noise jolted you both awake. With puzzled expressions, you sat up and looked at the bedside table where the noise was coming from.

"Did you forget to turn off your alarm?" you asked, watching as Vanessa reached over to turn it off.

"I must have," she groaned, hitting the alarm button to silence it.

You got out of bed, ready to start your day. Vanessa watched as you gathered a towel, one of her oversized shirts, and some comfortable clothing before she spoke up.

"Where are you going?" she asked, still sounding sleepy.

"I'm going to freshen up, I feel like I've bled all over the sheets," you replied, your voice slightly hoarse from just waking up.

Vanessa hummed in response, rearranging the sheets you had been lying on. She looked up at you with a concerned expression.

"There's no blood, my love," she reassured you, causing you to smile at her thoughtfulness.

"Still, I think it would be best if I shower now," you said with a hint of amusement. Vanessa moved to sit on your side of the bed and reached out for you to come closer.

"Please, can you stay in bed a little longer? If you happen to bleed, I'll clean it up," she pleaded, her voice still muffled from burying her face in your stomach.

"I don't want to get up right now," she whined, and you couldn't help but giggle at her adorable pout.

"It's already 12 pm, love. We've already missed half the day," you reminded her, causing her to groan.

"So what? We've worked hard all week, we deserve these few days off," she argued, crossing her arms and looking at you with a defeated expression.

"That's true," you agreed with a soft smile. You took a step back, causing her to let go of you, and she pouted even more.

"But you know what else is fun to do when we're both on our monthly cycle?" you asked, a mischievous glint in your eye.

"What?" Vanessa grunted, her arms still crossed.

"Taking a shower and baking a cake with the person you love most," you said, watching as her eyes widened in surprise.

"But if you'd rather stay in bed all day, that's fine too," you added with a shrug, before turning and walking towards the bathroom. You could hear Vanessa rustling around in the bedroom before she ran after you with a cheeky smile.

"I thought you wanted to sleep in," you teased, looking at her playfully as you took off your shirt.

"I wanted to sleep in with you. Plus, I don't want to leave you alone while you shower," she said, giving you a kiss on the cheek before undressing alongside you.

"Oh totally," you replied with a laugh, turning on the water in the shower.

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"Okay, so now we need four room-temperature eggs that have been separated," Vanessa calls out to you as you grab the eggs from the counter and a bowl.

"Wait, separated? Do you mean in different bowls?" you ask, looking at the eggs and the one bowl you had taken out.

Vanessa laughs and you look up at her, confused. She shakes her head with a smile and puts down the baking book she was reading from before moving to stand behind you.

"No, my love, separatied means separating the yolk from the egg whites. Can you hand me an egg?" she playfully whispers in your ear.

You hand her an egg and she stands next to you, cracking it against the counter and separating the yolk from the egg white by passing it between the two shells until only the yolk remains.

"See? It's not that difficult," she says with a smile, breaking you from your trance. You return the smile and say, "Yeah, I've got this."

As you continue to separate the eggs and put them in the bowl, Vanessa moves around the kitchen, preparing the other ingredients.

"Done!" you exclaim, looking at Vanessa. She curses under her breath and you drop the empty egg shells in shock. Vanessa had accidentally dropped the flour on her head while reaching for it on the top shelf. You cover your mouth to stifle the laugh that wants to escape as you watch her.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I was just excited to do this right and-" Before you can finish apologizing, Vanessa throws the rest of the flour on you, causing you to gasp in surprise. You stand in shock as she laughs.

"Nessa! What the hell?" you exclaim, surprised. Vanessa continues to laugh as you grab one of the egg yolks from the counter and smear it on her face. She stops laughing as you rub the yolk on her face, then wipes it away to look at you with a playful glare.

"Now you're in trouble," she says, grabbing the rest of the yolks and smushing them on your face. You groan and wipe the yolk off, spitting out any that got into your mouth.

Vanessa continues to laugh as you complain about the yolk in your mouth. She runs to get towels and two glasses of water before returning and handing you a towel. You wipe your face and apologize for laughing, then pick up one of the glasses of water and pour it on Vanessa's head, causing her to gasp and close her eyes.

"Y/n!" she shouts, and you laugh as you run away. Vanessa wipes her face with her sleeve before chasing after you and tackling you onto the couch.

"Hey, stop! You're going to get the couch wet and dirty," you say, laughing as she tickles you. Vanessa finally stops and walks away for a moment, giving you time to catch your breath. But before you can, she comes back with the other glass of water. You try to protest, but she throws the water on you before you can finish. You groan as she giggles and says, "Now we're even."

"Let's go finish this cake," Vanessa says, laughing as she walks back to the kitchen. You call out that you'll get her back and fall back onto the now-wet couch, not caring if it gets any dirtier.

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You lay snuggled up against Vanessa on the couch as an old romance show played on the television. She had her arms wrapped around you as you picked at the remnants of cake on your plate, gazing absentmindedly at the TV. Vanessa's lips snapped you out of your daydream as she planted a soft kiss on your head, causing you to smile and look up at her.

"Hi," you say with a smile, and she smiles back before nodding towards the plate in your hand.

"Are you going to finish that?" she asks, and you look down at the plate before shaking your head and playing with the plastic fork.

"Nah, do you want the last bite?" you offer, looking back up at her. She nods eagerly, and you hand her the plate.

"Can you feed it to me, though?" she asks with a mischievous glint in her eye. You raise an eyebrow, wondering what she's up to, but ultimately nod and move to straddle her. As you hand her the fork, she grabs your leg and pulls it over her waist, holding onto your waist as you lean down to feed her the last bite of cake.

"This is extra, you could have just taken the plate from me," you comment, slightly annoyed but unable to hide your smile.

"I know, but you look cute when you're flustered," Vanessa teases, smirking up at you. You playfully roll your eyes before planting a quick kiss on her lips.

"Let's go shower now," you say, trying to get up, but Vanessa's grip on your waist tightens.

"One more kiss," she pleads, and you sigh, knowing she won't let you go until you comply. You give her a tight-lipped smile before leaning down to give her another quick kiss, but she surprises you by deepening the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth. You moan against her lips as you taste the cake on her tongue.

As the kiss intensifies, you feel Vanessa's hand move from the back of your head to rest on your cheek, and she breaks the kiss, her thumb lightly tracing your bottom lip. You catch your breath, looking down at her with a dazed expression.

"Do you still want to shower?" she asks with a playful glint in her eye, and you shyly nod, hiding your face in the crook of her neck.

"But we should take one together to save water," you suggest, your voice muffled against her skin. Vanessa hums in agreement, her voice teasing as she replies, "Sure, just because you want to save water."

You can't help but smile against her neck as you lift your head to look at her with a mock serious expression.

"Vanessa, that's gross. We both have our periods," you say, feigning disgust at what she was suggesting. But Vanessa just shrugs, not fazed by your comment.

"So what?" she replies with a smirk, and you can't help but laugh at her nonchalant response.

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Tbh idk if this is short or long but I can tell you it sucks ass but I’m so fucking tired with school and shit I got lazy at the ending and I’m so sorry abt that 😭 I promise future fics won’t be this ass.

[sugar-petals]

I loved the TXT Kibbe post 😻 sometimes I wish I could go all Irene on the stylist and just yell at them for how they dress Soobin mostly, the poor thing is drowning in those humongous baggy clothes, it’s like they swallow him. They don’t know how to dress him and that’s a shame cause it feels like they’re wasting his best features 🫤 they focus too much on Yeonjun and forget about the others, but they’re just as beautiful and important ☹️

yes! it's a frequent pattern overall 🤔 i tried to look at the bigger picture and root issues.

"why's my bias dressed like THAT?" | points on fashion choices in k-pop groups

ON 'VISUAL' OUTSIDERS: like you i noticed how the overlooked/ "odd one(s) out" in a group often have body types that go against what the company vision or marketing is about, if that makes sense. it's unfair and strange how some idols are carelessly cast for groups where they are put on the backburner (unless they don't want the limelight as much, that's a legit concern). but from the fan perspective... you know how it is. we don't want someone needlessly left out. it sometimes takes a new concept or event/occasion (= other dresscode) for the visual outsider to shine. sometimes too briefly and then its back to the usual hierarchy or underwhelming outfits, while others are lucky, take the laurels. the other side gets dressed '80 years old' style, even on stage, which basically says "we underpromote you" in fashion terms. that's how soft dramatic idols (jin, soobin...) get the casual FN style or grandparent treatment.

HOW TO FIX THAT? it doesn't have to be that way. to me, groups should be dressed "all out", but customized, coordinated, with more interesting colors; why not try something different: sky's the limit in k-pop where especially men have extreme fashion freedoms. to me, ATEEZ frequently wins best collectively dressed, their only achilles heel is the hairstylist imo 😅 but every outfit is a highlight, 80% of the time i see them. to the point where there are storytelling and palettes in their fashion! ateez is hard to forget because no outfit is disrespectful to the wearer. it's demanding, it's "yes i am someone"/"we are someone".

FOCUS ON FACE > BODY: it's surprising how a country where color analysis is so widespread, stylists bring more than their a game, and makeup / surgery are crazy advanced, body type-fitting styles are so neglected. it puzzles me. though i think thanks to early kpop music videos — SM is the culprit here — and SNS, face focus + shock value outfits became more important.

HEIGHT WARS: many idols are petite and sadly there is stigma to be of a certain proportion, heights are tweaked... relying on facial appeal takes at least that pressure off. it got more intense over time: popularizing an exo vocal line (they're all yin-leaning) would not be possible today. they'd all have to be yang face types, many surgeries, wear huge insoles, and not get famous on merit but hype. unsurprisingly, stylists always boringly dressed them as pure classics to evoke sophistication, not as the romantics & gamines they are. the upside was, people paid attention to the voices > outfits. but it's still lazy and ill-fitted styling, and underwhelms on stage.

TYPES WITH TWO ESSENCES: yes, unfairly, some kibbe types are more flexible in fashion than others. Classics like yeonjun or FGs like taehyun embody both yin and yang influences. they can do short, medium and some longer silhouettes. while Dramatics, being so tall, are 90% bound to only longer lines and need custom clothes to fit their endless limbs. soobin is one among many there. fans love duality, so gamine and classic and subtypes win this one since they are two kibbe types in one.

OVERSIZED TREND: since fast fashion rules, stylists merely choose a larger size if something doesn't work and boom... tall guy is ironically lost under all the fabrics. that's how oversize was born: awfully, sloppily, quickly designed and tailored clothes with no substantial fabric or body to them. i hate almost all of it. companies save even more if they make it cropped and sell it for the same price. the only kibbe type that can wear this well is pure natural. for SN, it has no proper waist accommodation, and FN needs angles + elongated vertical tailoring. all the other types are too angular or petite to wear this meaningfully or fittingly. and gamines are too compactly built to go oversize, anyway.

CULTURE VULTURE: add kpop's constant cultural appropriation (YG takes much of the blame here), taking the N/FN silhouette of the black community in the 90s, and gang aesthetics, and you have a perfectly awkward outfit that would rather belong elsewhere. recently it also shifted to other cultures, but the overally undercurrent & racism/grifting is clear. it further prevents good fashion that respects the viewer and the wearer.

FRAME DOMINANCE: i do get the stylist's perspective. imagine dressing NCT in their flamboyant gamine aesthetic and here comes yang type johnny with a huge ass frame. or chanyeol. or mingyu. the korean market sadly only favors super small sizes. foreigners, plus size, tall folks, people who just aren't crazy skinny, and people dieting to get there, etc, no one benefits.

BIG THREE: but even then... groups wear international designers now. high fashion is often yang-friendly. sure, the big 3 types FN/SD/D always deviate. namjoon as an FN also had to be styled in an alternative, coat-heavy type of way. but the styling team understood that! accomodating everyone case by case > forcing one cookie cutter image on people who can't wear it. some stylists have a feel for that.

FASHION REFORM: on top of lowering prices, eliminating sweat shops, recycling, making less but better materials, bringing back colors, pragmatising cuts, and lowering body image and buying pressure in ads, we need most customizable and rewearable liveable fashion to begin with, even for performers who need 'big event' clothes that people gotta see in the last row. more vintage archive dressings, anyway! romantics and classics will wildly benefit from that, though it all depends on the garment. dua lipa contributed a lot to archive pulls > wasteful fashion.

QUESTION OF CHARACTER: yes, personality and humor shapes how popular idols get, regardless of their fashion. but even an introvert member will be a big deal when their image ID aligns with 1) the cultural standard and 2) the art direction. yoongi is a silent type but k-pop's favorite kibbe types are gamines = a quiet and not so "kpop bubblegum" success story. and even he had to struggle so... let's go easy, there's so much pressure.

BRANDING: "who debuts where and how" is everything: if you put an SD body type male idol who was previously unnoticed into ateez, they'd shatter the world. why? ateez has a lavish, harsh, drama-heavy theme. it gets FN and D sometimes but you get the gist, they do the ornate, deep color, vertical SD line. so very yang, just like monsta X, who dress pure D, FG, and FN, in a winter palette. i would love to see j-hope in a monsta X collab, for instance. but hybe is very soft subtype-friendly in its more mellow public image and spring palette. SN, SG, they will shine.

CONTRADICTING HEIGHT: i mean TXT is such a tall group. it's hilarious how their theme is the opposite, romantic small-scale yin. ruffles, softness, airy, princely, fantasy, flowing fabric, blush, airbrush-like blended makeup. beautiful really. i love it. but ironically, none of the members are pure yin, they're all way above the R height limits and tower in romantic styling 😂

OPPOSITE DAY: as another example, stray kids funnily enough does the opposite: they are all petite yin types except hyunjin, and do sporty yang concepts. bts has all height ranges (vertical - moderate - petite), so it's less hit or miss as a whole. any larger group basically. stylist motto: "whatever we try, it'll work for at least one guy, so our approach is we can do anything to appeal to anyone". look how easily a big three type (hyunjin) stands out when the surrounding yin types are dressed as yang DC.

POWER IN NUMBERS: super m, gg, suju, shinee, seventeen and nct were/are so successful because of that. all height ranges and kibbe types are covered = more chance of a concept matching them. though, there will be people losing out again with that approach. that's why kibbe's typecasting "to each their own wardrobe" is better, and still can be adapted to overall concepts... sometimes. the "it works for one guy at best" idea is already a pretty meh fashion philosophy. i wish fashion would adapt to bodies and not vice versa. kibbe helps with the former and avoids having to tweak pictures to create harmony. still, groups with height differences are cast, even if its harder to dress them cohesively, because it gets a reaction. (though, humans are just naturally varied like that anyway, which IS kibbe's point)

EDITING: case in point, the company has to edit TXT's promo shoots to the gods. you need less editing if you dress your type. ever noticed how TXT comeback pics are always plastered in fuzzy (=yin) filters and effects? it needs effort to create a Romantic type atmosphere on guys who don't have as much yin as say, taemin, seungkwan, jimin. i wish they'd use the fact that soobin has a soft subtype even more there. i love yin concepts.

MASS PRODUCTION: soobin and e.g. jin — similar situation — being Soft Dramatics contrasts with men's fashion prioritizing classic and natural types. because those 2 categories are easiest and fastest to manufacture and have medium proportions, so it'll suit more people, technically. SD is narrowly and asymmetrically built, so they drown in baggy N clothes and symmetrical, too short C is unflattering.

FLEETING IDEALS: they are already outside the kibbe width-focussed aesthetic expected from guys just by existing. especially as SD is the current benchmark for women, bella hadid rising to fame marked a departure from the universal SN body ideal. you really have to be lucky to be born at the right time. e.g. an FN born in the 80s hit the jackpot growing up in the 90s. if you're an R type, the trend will favor you in the upcoming years. look at the pop stars of today, all yin.

WINNER TAKES IT ALL: you can see how treating one ideal type as a benchmark will leave the other 12 behind. which stimulates consumption, because people desperately buy to find good clothes, are disappointed again, repeat. and it plays into a political and historic idea of monopoly, leadership, remnants of monarchy, influence of feudalism, all that. it's all ingrained to erroneously make us focus on one mighty person over everyone else. i like rotating centers, not "one king/queen, the rest serve", and nugu + fringe + "side" groups should get attention. they can be well-dressed like wavy without a bigbang budget.

GENDER DIVIDE: looking & dressing one's part + one's type really does make a difference in how male idols resonate with female fans: who, shocker, are visual creatures, our actions tell. companies still more or less put the full force actual-effort dressing to female groups: even if a fandom is mixed or female-leaning, all while they slack with male groups — until they learn that showy outfits generate huge attention. the low maintenance beatles branding would flop today. that's why it's a male-leaning fandom nowadays. SD needs actual-effort dressing unlike Ns and Cs (kind of), which means someone would have to actually think through jin's or soobin's outfit. maybe it's lazy, maybe inappropriate, or boring, or whatever. we all know they can do better/go all out:

AUDIENCE STUDY: it's tested, who has universal appeal (think taehyung), who triggers a parasocial bond, fantasy, fascination, makes people linger, spend time and money, and which surgeries do what. it's quite detailed, millimeter work. idols who fit the strict korean beauty ideal the most are on that pedestal, think taeyong, alongside those who gain fan favor through whatever reason anyway. we, the fans, intensify or create that effect. we shape the body types that show up in the industry by what we pay attention to — even though content can be pushed on us, too, and opinions can be pre-formed, molded, openly or not.

APPEARANCES: abstract esoteric kibbe metamorphosis poetry: some people & actually types look less "accessible" than others, too. DC, D, SD, SC, they can feel elusive. something familiar, average, less particular, more cute, unoffensive, that sticks: C, SG, SN. other types immediately cause a reaction, like D, FG, TR, FN. kibbe himself wrote how some IDs are just divisive in some cultural climates, and radiate danger, authority, risk, seduction, while others fly under the radar, are underestimated, or look just casual and normal. it's all such a balancing act. movies kind of formed those visual templates. Gamine, good and cute, Dramatic, bad and harsh, Natural fighter and manly, and so on. what makes a person come across a certain way is a huge multi-layered topic. kibbe was right to base his typology on hollywood typecasting.

COUNTRY: a pure N female group in k-pop would be difficult. a gamine-heavy male group debuted in the UK would be a disaster with their fashion, unless they'd go punk or retro, and even then. there's a reason why harry styles is some Natural type, the fashion industry at the time catered to Ns a lot. just a loose white shirt and harry looks good. because he's blunt > angular. not because he looks so good he can wear anything, but because naturals need simplicity, and british fashion favored that back then. it all comes down to where it takes place.

REALISM: would it be possible to debut a 13-member group with all body types present, dress them according to their lines, and still have a cohesive concept? it'd be very difficult. so, i don't get my hopes up realistically. still, i feel like there's way to go. positive reinforcement but also criticism from fans can further improve how idols are dressed, don't underestimate your power as the fan. even if SD is a type that needs to be heavily overdressed, but it's possible!

[lynnslittlelife]

Hii!!!💗💗 I don't usually do requests but here goes nothing 😅

Could I get a Daddy! Lucifer with a little! shy! fem reader where Luci is helping them fall asleep (let's be honest, they both need some sleep 😂, also idk if you're ok with bottle feeding, it's totally ok if you don't want to add that ) Also, if you could use the nicknames Little one, Sweetheart and Pumpkin that would be greatly appreciated 😊 (It's ok if you don't want to) (Also also, I know this might be a bit OOC for Lucifer, but if you add him baby talking to the reader, that would be cool too 😅 again, 100% ok if you don't want to)

I feel I requested too much 😭😅 I apologize in advanced

I promise, you didn't request too much at all! I really enjoy writing these little space stories, and that's a really cute concept! I feel special you don't do requests often! Hopefully I did your idea justice, and thank you for reaching out and requesting this from me ^^ I kept the baby talk a little softer? Not as much of it but there's still definitely some traces of it in there.

Thank you so much for requesting, and I hope you enjoy this soft moment with Lucifer!

Word Count: 1,145

Lucifer was sitting at his desk, trying not to doze off. He had too much to do, and sleep could wait. Sure he was tired, but the sooner he got this work done…the sooner he could fall asleep with you in his arms. Though that thought fell off, when he saw you run into his room in your favorite little outfit. You were cradling your stuffie in your hand, and you had your pacifier in your mouth. 

You seemed confident running into his room just a few seconds ago, but it seemed to fade as you looked down at the ground and walked up to him slowly. Reaching out and taking one of his fingers in your hand, you looked at him fully. The words you wanted to say didn't make any sense. The sentences weren’t forming right, so instead you tugged lightly on his finger and made a small “da” sound. You huffed, and tried to think of what you wanted, but just kept repeating the same sound over and over again behind the pacifier. 

Lucifer immediately set his pen down, spinning the chair slightly to fully face you. He looked at the clock, and raised his free hand to pat your head. “What are you still doing up, pumpkin?” His hand continued to pat your head, only to slowly rub circles on the back of your neck. He knew it was soothing to you, and the realization clicked. He sighed, “I’m sorry to make you wait up for me. I’m proud of you for coming to get me. But we need to make sure you get good rest.” 

You pouted firmly, and shook your head no, but Lucifer wasn’t typically one to take no for an answer…not when it came to your mental wellbeing. He scooped you up in his arms, and made his way to your little room. All the brothers knew it was there, and sometimes even came to visit you while you played with your various toys or coloring books. It had a bed, with an extension to make it seem like an oversized crib. But it was exactly what you and daddy wanted…it helped keep you in little space without worries, and even if you did worry? Daddy and all your bubbas were there to help. 

When he sat you down on the bed, he rubbed your cheek with one of his hands, and tucked you in. The second he pulled away, you shoved the blanket off and grabbed his arm. It effectively stopped him, and he turned to you with a faint smile. “You need your rest, sweetheart.” But he didn’t move to pull away, and instead let you hold his arm as he sat down next to you. “Are you not tired enough yet?” He grinned, and moved his arm so that you were holding his hand instead of his arm. 

You shook your head no, and a couple tears welled in your eyes at the thought of him leaving. He didn’t know what you needed! But how did you say it? You huffed, and only leapt towards him so he had to fully hold you in his arms. An embarrassed blush was on your cheeks, now knowing the words you needed to say…but it was too hard to say it. You didn’t wanna be needy! Asking for stuff was so hard sometimes…

Daddy seemed to read your mind, though. He was always really good at that. “Ah, I see. It’s okay, let me go, just for a second. I’ll stay right where you can see me, I just need to grab your bottle…okay?” He spoke softly, and rubbed the couple of tears you had off your face. But he was patient, and waited for your answer before standing to grab your bottle with your favorite sleepy time drink in it. 

You made grabby hands at him, both wanting his cuddles and the bottle. It made him let out a soft chuckle, and he eased you over so he could rest beside you. He was sitting up, and lifted you to cradle into his chest. One arm was wrapped around your back and side to keep you steady, and the other was holding your bottle. From here, you could nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder and slowly close your eyes from how comfortable it was. It was a familiar position, and you nearly fell asleep right there. But you really were hungry…

Lucifer smiled, and took your pacifier out of your mouth, only to give you the bottle. He held it even, not letting too much of the drink spill out as you slowly drank it. While doing so, he rocked you slightly, and spoke quietly. “You don’t have to wait for dada anymore. He’s right here. He’s got you, and you’re safe.” He tilted his head slightly as you cradled yours into his neck, providing even more comfort. “Daddy’s sorry he had so much work to do, he’s here for you now.” His words were unusually soft, and the smile on his face was tender, genuine. He really was so happy to have you, just as much as you loved to have him. 

You yawned around the bottle, and he pulled it away from you until you reached for it back. His free hand rubbed your back in circles, he hummed softly as he decided to soothe you to sleep with his voice too. “Do you know what daddy loves about you?” He whispered, and you briefly stopped drinking when he spoke. Wasting no time, he answered for you. “Everything. Your smile, your big space, your little space. Everything. I even love how ticklish my baby is riiiiight here.” He reached over to your ticklish spot, and when you jerked away slightly he chuckled. “Don’t worry. My baby needs sleep right now, no tickle fights.” 

He sighed, and your eyes shut tight as you smiled. The bottle was almost gone, but you couldn’t focus on drinking anymore. Lucifer held you tightly through this, and slowly and carefully maneuvered you both until you were resting on top of him. You had one hand curled to your chest with a stuffie, and the other resting on his chest. Lucifer even blinked, yawning himself. Maybe it was a good thing you came and got him. Sure, he had work to do. But you always have been, and always will be his priority. 

While he wasn’t immediately expecting to fall asleep after feeding you, he couldn’t help but do so. He only managed to mutter one more sentence before he drifted off with you. It came out as barely a whisper, but in the sweetest tone anyone would have ever heard from Lucifer himself. It really only goes to show how much he cares about you as much as he says he does. 

“Daddy loves you so much, little one.”

[grimesrhees]

Good Luck, Babe.

pairing: maggie greene/rhee x fem!reader

genre: angst, mostly.

warnings: mentions of intimacy & alcohol

notes: I rarely write so please enjoy my own self indulgent attempt at it solely for my queen Maggie<3 (this also took me forever, thanks adhd😅)

summary: based on Chappell Roan's song Good Luck, Babe! Set (mostly) before the zombie apocalypse, Maggie struggles with her feelings towards other women. reader gets caught in between, falling for her knowing Maggie isn't ready to accept herself yet.

-Pre-Zombie Apocalypse-

How the hell did I get here again?

You thought to yourself as you lay sweaty and tingly all over, staring into the void of the dark ceiling above. You knew exactly how you got here, in bed with Maggie Greene, yet again. All she had to do was bat those eyelashes your way and use that sweet southern drawl and you were a goner. Ever since you started getting to know each other at the beginning of the semester 6 months ago, you wanted to show her all the ways you could make her feel good. But from the start you were aware that this was experimentation for Maggie, being with another woman. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she was attracted to women along with men. There were many occasions she’d drunkenly called or text you to come pick her up after one too many shots at the bar, only for you to walk in and find her making out with yet another man. But you always came anyway. Because even through the heart ache of this situationship, you couldn’t help but to start falling for Maggie. She was so smart and kind, gentle but fierce all the same, when she wasn’t being a stubborn bull in denial over the two of you.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you turned to face the soft, bare back of Maggie’s. All those days in the hot Georgia sun on her daddy’s farm had her shoulders and back peppered with freckles. You tried to take in every inch of her while you slowly drew your fingertips up and down along her spine. Maggie hummed sleepily at your touch, and you could feel you heart swell and break into pieces at the same time. You didn’t think you could take this, whatever this was between you and her, much longer.

You woke up early the next morning, way before Maggie, and decided to take a quick shower and brew some coffee. You poured two cups, set them both down on the small table and sat. After wrestling back and forth with your thoughts last night, before you mercifully fell asleep, you decided that it was best to talk to Maggie about what was going on between you two. You sipped the hot coffee slowly and stared into the black liquid abyss in front of you until you heard the small creaks of the floorboard.

Maggie’s figure appeared, wearing nothing but an oversized flannel shirt and a pair of lacey underwear. Her hair, completely disheveled from the passion of the night before. You couldn’t help your heart from fluttering at the sight. She leaned against the door frame and flashed you that winning, toothy smile of hers, signature lip bite and all. It quickly fell when she noticed the sad look on your face as you looked up from your coffee.

“Darlin’ why the sad face, what’s got you down this mornin’?” Maggie cooed in that sweet southern drawl of hers.

“After last night I cain’t have nothin’ but a smile on my face.”

You took a deep breath and looked up into Maggie’s big green eyes.

“Mags, what are we doing? Why do we keep doing this to ourselves? What are we?”

You prepped for the inevitable response you were going to get.

Maggie let out a huff and folded her arms across her chest.

“Whatta ya mean ‘what are we doin’ and ‘what are we’? We’re havin’ fun, it’s just casual sex y/n. We’re not anything but that…” she trailed off, almost as if she was convincing herself at the same time as the words were coming out of her mouth.

God she was so fucking stubborn.

You looked away from her and felt your eyes stinging with inescapable tears. Keeping those tears from falling would take everything in you, so you set your coffee down and started to get up from the table.

“Wait, y/n I didn’t mean it quite like that, you know how much I care about you," she shifted her body up straight,

"But this is just the way it is I can’t-"

You stopped her before she could finish.

“I know that this,” you motioned your pointer finger back and forth between the two of you, “is more than “nothing”, more than just “casual” sex. You know that I love you, Maggie.”

Maggie’s mouth went agape for a brief moment before it snapped shut, her jaw tightening and brows furrowing. A mix of emotions flashed across her face, fear, frustration and sadness. She couldn’t will herself to say anything back to you, so you continued on.

“Y'know what, it’s fine. It's cool. You can kiss a hundred guys in bars, shoot shot after shot just to try and stop you from feeling what you know is true about yourself. Make all the excuses , give me all the stupid reasons, but I won’t be here for them. I can’t do this anymore.”

You stood quickly and snatched your bag off the back of your chair, walking over to Maggie and getting only inches away from her face. Even having just woken up she was exceptionally beautiful, and her scent was something you could get drunk off of. You had ripped the band aid almost all off, you had to control yourself, had to end this now, even though almost every ounce of your body was tempted to push her up against the wall and kiss her until you were both breathless and gasping for air.

“This isn’t something you can just hide from forever, Maggie Greene. And you will think about this, years from now, until maybe you finally fucking realize that. Face to face with my ‘I told you so,’ and a longing for what could have been.”

Maggie continued to just stare at you but with tears now brimming in her eyes, still too stubborn to respond to any of your words. Her eyes fell to your feet until you brushed past her and towards the front door. While reaching for the doorknob you turned and looked back at Maggie, tears already steadily rolling down your cheeks.

“Good luck, babe,” you managed to choke out before swiftly opening the door and closing it behind you with a thud.

-Some months into the Zombie Apocalypse-

Flashes of different images and sensations danced across her mind.

The wind whooshing through her hair as her arms stretched out through the car sun roof.

An arching back and the feeling of sweat rolling down her chest, in a state of complete pleasure. Soft moans and wet kisses.

Giggles rang in and out but soon faded into silence.

Your tear-stained face looking back at her, "I told you so," echoing loudly, and the slamming of a door. Suddenly a mirror appeared and only her heartbroken face was staring back at her.

Maggie awoke with a small gasp and sat straight up in her bed. She took a minute to steady her breathing while trying to recollect the dream she just had. Next to her she heard Glenn let out a sleepy sigh and shift in his sleep. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut and put her head in her hands. The world ended and you were right, she couldn't hide the truth from herself forever. She had loved you, completely. Always did. Maggie laid her head back on her pillow, breathing a sigh of relief, finally allowing herself some acceptance.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 6 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Your parents invite Mr. Jeon over to dinner without your knowledge and spring a proposal on you that you're not given a chance to refuse Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 4.1k~ Warnings: Explicit Language and a lot of teasing a/n: A longer chapter as promised 😅 Hope you guys are looking forward to the next one 🤭 p.s. barely edited so have mercy on me lmao Start from the beginning

"Hey" my mom says, popping her head in my room. "Yeah?" I respond, thumbing through the most recent book Jungkook gave me.

"Dinner is almost ready so can you come downstairs in a bit?" she questions and I look up at her as if she's grown two heads. 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I question, extremely suspicious of her motives. "What do you mean? I'm your mother" she chuckles, walking towards where I'm laying on my bed, brushing back the hair that had fallen in my face. 

"Usually you use that as an excuse to discipline me or whatever so what's really going on?" I question, sitting up from my reclined position and straightening out my clothes. 

"I was going to wait for James to tell you but there's a charity ball next weekend and we wanted you to attend it with us" she says, smiling at the idea of having a united front with all three of us together. 

"A charity ball? What charity?" I prod further while cocking a brow at her. Wanting to figure out exactly why there needs to be an event when they can just not have an event and give all the money to the charity. 

I swear, I'll never understand rich people. 

"I don't know honey that's something for your father to worry about" she says not giving a care in the world to what I thought was a very valid question.

"Step father" I correct her. 

No matter how hard she tries, no one is going to take my father's place.

"Step father" she echos as if she's tired of me already "Either way, it'll be good to get your face out in public with us. Who knows, you might be able to make some good connections along the way" she finishes as she walks out the door, paying no mind to if I would like to continue the conversation or not.

"Oh and we've invited Mr. Jeon to dinner tonight so he'll be arriving shortly" she calls out over her shoulder. 

'Mr. Jeon is coming okay whatever' I think to myself before blinking a few times and finally processing what she said.

"Mr. Jeon is having dinner with us? Why?" I ask rushing out of my room to catch her before she's gotten too far. 

"Well after he dropped you off the other night I realized that James and I haven't really had a chance to speak to him yet so a family dinner seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so. Is there a problem with that?" she questions, noticing my body language. 

"Nope. No problem at all" I choke out, mad that she didn't give me any sort of warning or better yet, asked if I was comfortable with it.

"Great, we told him to come around 6:30 so try to be down before he gets here" she says and continues on her descent down the stairs and out of my sight.

"Shit" I say to myself and run back into my room, checking my phone where it reads six o'clock on the dot. 

Looking down at the clothes I'm wearing I realize I'm donning an oversized sweatshirt and some baggy sweats with my hair in a sad excuse for a ponytail and run into my bathroom to do something with my hair as quickly as I can.

After doing that and throwing on some mascara and chapstick I dig through my closet and find a nice off the shoulder sweater and some jeans and throw them on as quickly as I can and pair it with a set of converse hoping that it'll suffice. 

I know for a fact that he's gonna show up in something ridiculous like a suit of some sort but I can't be bothered to do much more than this. Thanks to my mother I wasn't even given the opportunity to choose otherwise. 

"Y/n, Mr. Jeon's pulling up right now" I hear my mom call out for me. I roll my eyes before responding.

"Be right there" I yell out, checking myself out one last time before heading down where I see my mom is already greeting him in the doorway. 

As I observe their exchange I watch as Jungkook's eyes flicker over in my direction but once he actually sees me he makes eye contact after dragging his eyes up and down my figure, making me lose my footing for a second but not enough for him to notice.

Or so I thought as he meets me with a knowing smile while my mother has her head turned the other way. 

I roll my eyes at him and finish my path down the steps without falter and end up a few feet in front of him where my mom still spouts off a ridiculous excuse for small talk all while Jungkook has barely taken his eyes off me.

"Thank you for inviting me Mrs. Hart" Jungkook says and she quickly dismisses the formalities requesting he call her Lily instead before she excuses herself so she can grab a vase for the flowers I'm just now noticing he had given her. 

"Y/n would you mind taking him to the sitting room? Dinner should be ready soon" she finishes and leaves Jungkook and I still standing by the front door. 

"For you" he says pulling out a single white rose from behind his back.

"Oh, it's beautiful" I say, reaching out to take it from him, accidentally grabbing his hand instead of the flower. I look up at him with the intension to apologize but my words are caught in my throat when I meet his eyes. 

His damn eyes that see right through me yet beg to learn more.

His eyes that leave my skin crawling but craves his touch no matter how light it might be.

His eyes that tell me everything and nothing all at once. 

"You're welcome Pretty" he whispers as though it was a secret never to be told to any soul other than our own.

"I- what?" I stammer, caught off guard by his compliment, eyes wide in shock which only earns me a slight upturn of his lips before he turns to face towards the direction my mother had disappeared to.  

"Shouldn't we be heading to the sitting room like your mother requested?" he says slipping his hand out of my grasp. 

I clear my throat before wordlessly walking towards said room, worried that I might betray myself otherwise. 

"You have a lovely home" he says once I motion towards a place for him to sit when we've arrive in said room.

"Thank you. James and my mother bought it soon after they got married so we've lived here ever since" I respond, making an effort to keep the conversation going. 

"Would you mind if I asked how long ago that was?" he questions, opting to do the same.

"It was about four years ago, around the time I was graduating. They had been dating for a few years and I guess they decided that they were serious enough about each other to get married" I say just scratching the surface as to how everything went down between them. 

"Are you fond of your step father?" he asks, apparently interested in getting to know more about me.

"I like him more than I like my own mother most days if I'm being honest. He's a really great guy and my mom seems happy so that's all I could really ask for" I say shrugging my shoulders, not really having too strong of an opinion on it. 

He nods his head, almost reflecting on the answer and I fear that I've made him feel awkward by my response so I nervously slip in a question of my own.

"Do you have family close by?" I question since now that I think about it we really haven't had too much time to get to know the most basic things about each other. 

"Unfortunately no. My parents and brother live in Korea still and so it's just Bam and I" he says with a sad smile.

"Bam?" I question, "Yeah my dog. He's a Doberman that thinks he's a lap dog at times and at other's he's ready to defend me against the smallest of things" he says with a soft smile reminiscing about the fond memories they've made together. 

"How old is he?" I question, seeing that he clearly loves talking about him. "He'll be turning two in December" he says scrunching his brows together for a second as he tries to get it right.

"Aw, he's still just a baby. Why haven't I seen him before?" I question since I feel like I would've noticed a big puppy like him wandering around the place. 

"I take him to his trainers while I'm working and then pick him up once we've concluded our lessons" he replies.

"So that's the business meeting you spoke about when my mother tried to invite you to dinner the other night then?" I ask clearly catching him in a lie from seeing his reaction. 

"Yes, it was" he says, deciding to admit it to set a good example for me instead of breaking the promise we made.

"Is that why you force me into letting you give me a ride home most days?" I prod further, wanting to get answers out of him while I still can. 

"That, amongst other things..." he trails off with a smile and before I'm even able to think about what the fuck he means by that my mother comes in letting us know that dinner is ready. 

"Thank you so much for joining us on such late notice Mr. Jeon" James says, reaching out to shake Jungkook's hand before we all sit down. Jungkook sitting across from me with my mother and James on either end of the table. 

"Thank you for your generous invitation. You have a very lovely home" he compliments while turning his attention back to my mother for a second, inferring that she was probably the designer from the feminine touches throughout it all. 

"Lily really prides herself in creating a soft and peaceful atmosphere and I can't help but adore everything she's done to the place" James says while gazing over at my mother with a soft smile.

Anyone can see that he really loves her and although her and I butt heads I'm happy she ended up with someone like him. 

"I feel as though you've definitely achieved your goal then, wouldn't you say y/n?" Jungkook says, catching me off guard by bringing me into the conversation.

"Oh, um yes I think you've done a wonderful job mother" I say smiling at her momentarily before looking back over at Jungkook, giving him a look as a way to question his motives but he only gives me a pleasant smile in return. 

~~~~

The night goes on almost painlessly with each of us engaging in what Jungkook would phrase it as 'Stimulating Conversations' and even gets a few smiles and laughs out of me. It feels as if I'm seeing him in a new light tonight. 

Not merely as teacher and student, but as some what of a friend. One that I'm starting to realize has had nothing but my best interest at heart.

Sure some of his methods might seem unorthodox but I know now that he means well, he just has an interesting way of showing it. 

"Would that be alright with you y/n?" I hear James call out, making me realize I had not only been thinking about Jungkook but also staring right at him and losing track of the conversation. 

"I'm sorry what was that?" I say quickly, tearing my eyes off of Jungkook and over at James, hoping to hide that I was staring at Jungkook but also avoiding his ever knowing gaze. 

"I just asked Jungkook if he would escort you to the charity ball we had mentioned earlier. That way you have a familiar face around" he says, widening my eyes at the suggestion and flitter them between Jungkook and James for a moment before trying to deny the offer. 

"I couldn't possibly ask him to do that. I'm sure he has other matters to attend to or someone else he might have in mind to go with" I babble, trying to offer him a way out of this but my mother clears her throat as a warning to not try to push it anymore and to just accept what James thinks would be best. 

"It's fine y/n, I assure you. I would be more than happy to help guide you. It's important for you to make a good impression no?" he says, nudging his foot against mine. Leaving me jolting at the sudden contact.

"R-right" I stutter, taking a sip of water to cover up my reaction. 

He just loves getting his way doesn't he? I swear, if we weren't being watched I would've stomped on his foot but instead I pull my feet back towards myself, leaving them out of reach and luckily they take our exchange as an agreement to the posed idea.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you? You just seem so mature but look so young that I just can't seem to pinpoint what your age might be" my mother asks him while taking a sip of her wine.

I swear if she's tipsy and about to start flirting with him right in front of James I'm gonna puke. 

"I turned 27 last September, I do tend to get that a lot. I guess it's just one of the many blessings my parents have bestowed on me" he says lightheartedly but I can tell he's clearly eating up the compliments as a way to tease me. 

"Do your parents live close by? I feel like I would've seen them by now at one of the events over the years but I can't seem to recall a Mr. or Mrs. Jeon" James ponders, turning Jungkook's attention back over to him. 

"Oh they're back in Busan, my home town in South Korea. I figured it would be too big of an adjustment for them to move here so I make sure to go visit them when my schedule allows it" he says giving a concise answer. 

"Oh I've heard that Busan is a beautiful place to live. It's by the coast if memory serves me right" my mother jumps in, making me take interest in the conversation, still wanting to know more about him. 

"Yes that's correct, although I only lived there until I was about eighteen when I got accepted into Seoul National University and in turn moved to Seoul" he informs and James asks more and more questions, fascinated in what the upperclass might call a "self made man journey". 

~~~~~~

As the night wraps up and the dessert is long gone I can see that my mother is ready to head to bed, hopefully before making an absolute fool of herself after all the wine she's consumed. 

"It was lovely meeting you Jungkook" my mother lightly slurs and James soon comes to her aid to say goodbye as well and I take that as an opportunity to slip out to get some air.

Making my way to the courtyard at the back of the house I take in the sight of the few stars that I can manage to make out, all these city lights stopping them from shining as bright.

"It's a shame isn't it?" I hear Jungkook's voice say from behind me, making me jolt in surprise. "You scared me" I say after glancing back at him.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to" he says while taking a few strides towards me. 

"Likely story" I mumble under my breath and he chuckles at my reaction.

"Okay maybe I did a little bit, but it's only because I enjoy watching your reactions" he says smugly once he's standing next to me. 

"Where's James?" I question, glancing over at him before turning my attention back to the sky.

"Taking your mother to bed. Seems like she's had one too many" I nod my head in acknowledgment and he surprisingly takes it as an answer, refraining from asking questions, seeing my slight discomfort on the topic. 

"What's a shame?" I question, making him tilt his head in confusion. "You said earlier 'It's a shame'. What were you referring to?" I remind him.

"It's a shame you can't see many stars from here. The city lights tend to shine so bright that you can never truly see how brilliant they are" he smiles before answering. 

"I don't think I've ever actually seen that many stars. The closest thing was when I was on a road trip with my mom and dad. I was too young though so I hardly remember it. I miss it though" I end, clearing my throat and pushing away any emotions that had stirred up from that last statement. 

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that" I say rubbing one of my bicep and shrinking back into myself so to say. 

"You have nothing you need to apologize for y/n" he responds, leaving a beat of silence before filling it up again. 

"I used to go stargazing with my father too" he starts, making me make eye contact with him for a second.

"We used to drive all the way out to the edge of town where it was away from all the big buildings and bring a big blanket to lay on and we would just look up at the stars for what felt like hours" he smiles fondly, turning his focus back towards the heavens. 

"I remember my mother scolding my father once for keeping me out too late, worried that I might've caught a cold. My father swore up and down that we both had dressed warm enough but by morning we both woke up sick as dogs" he chuckles, making me smile. 

"She continued to scold him all day and all night but even through all of that, she was still there, nursing us back to health" he finishes. 

"She sounds lovely" I respond truthfully "She is" he whispers with a sad smile, and from that alone I can tell how much he misses home.

"She can be quite intimidating when she wants to be though" he laughs. 

"Oh really? Is that who you get it from?" I say, poking fun at him. "Get what?" he asks turning to face me and I mirror him, meeting his mischievous gaze. 

"Your intimidation tactics you try to use on me" I say and he cocks an eyebrow at me. 

"Try? I'm pretty sure I'm rather successful most days don't you think?" he questions taking a few steps towards me, leaving me taking a few steps back. 

"Key word is most, though they don't always work" I say, walking backwards not paying mind to anything but keeping a distance between us. 

"Really?" he says with a knowing smile, glancing behind me. As I open my mouth to respond I lose my footing and step off the patio flooring and onto the grass but before I fall Jungkook grabs my wrist and pulls me flush against his chest. 

"Because they seem to be working right now. Seeing as you're trying to run away from me" he teases, tilting his head at me. 

I push against his chest lightly and he loosens his grasp on me to barely give me room to breathe. "I wasn't running" I say, placing my hands on top of his and prying them off of me. With him letting go with little to no resistance, allowing me to step aside and walk past him. 

"Then what were you doing?" he says grabbing my wrist before I get to far.

As I try to respond I see a light turn on in my parents bedroom and pull Jungkook over to hide behind one of the pillars, hiding incase one of them were to look outside. 

I watch for a few moments, holding my breath as I see shadows form in the light cast across the lawn, feeling my heart race until the light turns off, signaling that they've hopefully turned in for the night. 

I let out that breath and jump at the sound of an amused scoff, having forgotten that he was still with me. 

"What was it you were doing Miss y/n" he says in a hushed tone and when I turn to face him I realize I have my back against the pillar with a strong grip on his wrist, in turn having pulled him closer in an effort to hide. 

I take in the distance between us which at this point is mere centimeters and lose my words watching as the city lights reflect in his eyes. 

"I was maintaining personal space" I say after having regained the slightest bit of clarity which dissipates when he leans his forearm against the pillar above my head and leans in closer. 

"And what pray tell are you doing now?" he asks in my ear and I can almost feel how much he's enjoying this, leaving me without the strength to come up with a reply. 

"Hmm? Cat got your tongue?" he says, placing his hand on my waist and barely ghosting his lips against my skin. 

He waits there for a beat, giving me a chance to respond but when I don't he decides to fill up that space.

"I had fun tonight. Invite me over again sometime?" he questions, squeezing my waist a bit making me let out a quite 'okay' and he smiles against my skin before pushing himself off of me and turning to walk back inside. 

I stammer trying to say something but decide to just follow behind him.

"Let me get your coat and I'll walk you out" I say, knowing where we keep them when guest come and quickly catch up to where he stands at the front door and hand it to him.

He decides to drape it over his arm in place of putting it on since his car is parked right out front. 

He opens the door and lets me out first before following after and closing it behind us to keep the crisp night air from getting into the warm house.

"Thank you, um thank you for coming tonight. I wasn't really in on this plan so I'm sorry if the invitation inconvenienced you at all" I explain while following him to the drivers side of the car. 

"I had a free spot open tonight so I was more than happy to accept" he says, opening the door and leaning in to place his things on the passenger side seat and straightening back up to face me again, not making moves to sit inside yet. 

"I'm sorry they basically volunteered you to be my date to this stupid ball thing" I apologize further, looking down and kicking the rocks under my shoes in embarrassment. 

"You know," he starts, tilting my chin up to make eye contact, "You say sorry quite a lot for someone who doesn't need to apologize" he finishes, rubbing the corner of my lips with his thumb before leaning in. 

I shut my eyes tight, scared that this might be the time he actually kisses me and hold my breath. 

I hear him chuckle to himself and places a kiss on the corner of my mouth, close enough to keep me wanting more and no where near far enough to maintain that professionalism he tries but fails to maintain around me. 

"Goodnight y/n" he whispers before sinking down into the drivers seat making me open my eyes fast enough to see the satisfied smirk on his face. 

He closes his door and starts the car, rolling down his window before he puts it in drive. 

"We're going to the modiste in the morning to pick out your dress for the event so be ready at seven" he says, turning his face towards me. 

"But it's Sunday" I protest and he nods in acknowledgment. "I'm aware but time is of the essence Love. I'll come pick you up so please be ready on time" he says, waiting for an answer to solidify the plan. 

"Yes Mr. Jeon" I mumble looking down at my shoes again, falling into routine of agreeing when I wish I didn't have to.

"Good girl" he finishes, leaving me snapping my vision back up at him with shock and he grants me a smile in return. 

"Goodnight Mr. Jeon" I say and at that he chuckles and faces straight ahead, rolling up his window before pulling out of the driveway and onto the street. Leaving me with my thoughts and emotions in a turmoil like he always does. 

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[loserboyfriendrjl]

Also bored😅, here we go:

What do you hc their clothing style to be like? (Marauders + anyone you have strong opinions about)

What do you think their favorite colors are?

Do you have a prongsfoot anthem? (I think you might have posted about that recently but I cannot find it)

Fashion:

i can’t describe their clothing style, to be honest, so i’ll just put some pictures and hope that those convey it enough 😅

james potter: james is all about being comfortable. he prefers lighter, sporty clothing, usually in the gryffindor colors; he likes to show off his house pride even when not necessary.

modern james era-accurate (ish) james

sirius black: sirius is all about leather and denim. even in modern times, he likes incorporating pieces of older fashion in his wardrobe. he prefers oversized fits and likes layering

modern sirius era-accurate (ish) sirius

remus lupin: remus prefers keeping a classy, gradfather-looking attire. he’s a fan of corduroy and earthy tones. jumpers are a classic for him, but he likes flannel as well

modern remus era-accurate (ish) remus

peter pettigrew: peter, too, is a fan of flannel. however, his wardrobe features more colours, and his style cannot be pinpointed and assigned to just one thing.

modern peter era-accurate (ish) peter

bonus! lily evans: lily evans is a classic of old-school preppy, especially the era-accurate lily. modern lily is a fan of maxi skirts and earthy tones. she will, however, always like scarves

modern lily era-accurate (ish) lily

Favourite colors:

james potter: two very specific shades; one of grey, and one of bright green (i think we all know what i mean when i say that)

sirius black: navy blue and a very specific shade of brown that means a lot for him

remus lupin: brown, but he also likes a dark, washed out blue; think old jeans. also, one certain shade of grey

peter pettigrew: bright, blood red; to him, that is the colour of belonging, of having a place in the world

bonus! lily evans: her favourite colours change, depending on the season and her fashion choices at that moment. however, red and brown are always included

Prongsfoot anthem:

my prongsfoot anthem are always you (depeche mode) and mind over matter (young the giant). however, if someone wants me to, i can make them a playlist!

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Roy Pulver (boss level) x female reader

Tags/warnings: kinda one night stand, fingering, p in v unprotected sex, time loop shenanigans? 😅

A/n: I dunno I was just really horny and he's kinda hot in this film. 😁

You had been staring at the scene in front of your wide, disbelieving eyes for well over a minute now yet you can't tear away. Yeah your head is a little fuzzy from the night before but there's no doubt what you're seeing. The black lace of a pair of your underwear stretched over his ass, framing it perfectly. That's all he's wearing as he moves about your small kitchen seemingly… cooking breakfast?

"Roy?"

"Mornin' baby. You sleep alright?" He replies, turning over his shoulder briefly to flash you that self secure smile of his.

He continues shifting pans around and peering into your fridge looking for god knows what as you know you desperately needed to go food shopping. For the short time you've known each other, this all feels incredibly natural. Almost normal. Like you do this all the time.

"Roy…"

"Hmm? Where's your flour at sweetheart? I'm gonna make pancakes for ya, kinda figured you'd need something to soak up the alcohol after last night, y'know?" His eyes crinkle as he throws you a wink and turns back to his quest for ingredients.

"Uhh, in the top right cupboard, why are you wearing my panties?"

They definitely do. You subconsciously swallow the drool that's apparently been collecting in your mouth as your gaze fixes back on his tight butt again, feeling a heat start to blaze between your thighs as he turns around and you notice how he fills out the front of them, barely contained within the confines of the delicate fabric.

He chuckles as he locates the flour and shakes some into a bowl creating a white dust cloud around him. "Think I'm pullin' it off, maybe I gotta get me some of my own. They look good, huh?"

"Y-yeah, maybe, I guess… but why?"

He stops what he's doing, putting down the almost empty carton of milk he was pouring into the bowl, stalking slowly towards you. You're only wearing an oversized sleep shirt and knickers and as his arms slip around your waist and pull you up close, you feel the warmth rising up to your face, blooming across your cheeks as you look up into those mischief-laden hazel eyes fixed on you. The ones that got you so easily into this situation in the first place. The ones that had you staying for 'just one more drink' in the bar with him when you really should have gone home alone, but you couldn't resist. Roy was far too charming for a guy that looked like the usual one-and-done kinda asshole that you tended to end up with. He actually had depth. And well, yeah, he was attractive too. Very attractive.

"Oh," he says mockingly, "you don't remember what a mess you made of mine last night, do you honey?" He slowly slides his thigh between your legs and you can't help making a small noise as his hand goes to your lower back and he presses you down against his muscular leg. "Or… maybe you do." He grins, and you can't help yourself, automatically reaching around to squeeze those criminally pert and semi-naked ass cheeks in your hands. Yeah, you'd both been kinda drunk by the time you'd dragged him back to your apartment (in the uber quick discussion about where to go during your rather heated public makeout session, yours had been closer), but you knew you wanted to ride him like a bucking bronco. Unfortunately, due to too many shots, you never quite got that far in the end.

He hisses as your nails dig shallow welts into his skin and it's your turn to grin at him. "Hm, are you really blaming me for ruining your pants?"

"Hey!" You yelp as he hoists you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walks you to the nearest clear countertop and sets you down upon it, his eyes flicking briefly down to glance at your mouth and back up again.

"Yeah I'm blaming you, well, mostly anyways. You were pretty darn set on gettin' on my lap and grinding the absolute shit outta me before you fell asleep. You're tellin' me you really don't remember?"

You do remember, but the way he tilts his head to the side adorably almost makes you want to string him along some more, however the urge to pick up and continue the activities of the night before is by far winning out.

"I- yeah, I'm really sorry about that, might have been a lil bit too tipsy."

One of his hands slides down your side, settling at your hip as you watch the tip of his tongue swipe across his lips. "Well you shouldn't be, was fuckin' hot as fuck!"

You dip your head at his admission and he gently hooks the side of his forefinger under your chin and tips your face back up to make you look at him.

"Though y'know there's this one thing about last night I regret,"

Your stomach drops to your feet. "Oh…"

Roy leans in so close his lips brush against the heated skin of your cheek, your heart suddenly racing as your brain processes his gravel-toned words.

"I didn't get to make you come."

You let out a shuddering breath as you meet his eyes, seeing the same burning desire there from the night before. Then your eyes close as his lips caress along your jaw, kissing his way to your own slightly parted mouth.

"Was kinda hoping we could…?" He begins to suggest what you're desperate for and you answer by surging forward, your mouth smashing into his, your fingers carding through his thick dark hair, holding him to you and moaning as he catches up fast, his tongue sliding hotly against yours. You squeeze your legs around him, and Roy grunts low as the bulge of his hardening cock rubs at your core through the thin barrier of both pairs of your underwear. You briefly create some space so you can yank the lace down his thighs, his erection bobbing deliciously before you as he's released. You want him, want to feel him but he attacks your neck with his lips and teeth while maneuvering you to the edge of the countertop, one arm wrapped around your waist and the fingers of his other hand sliding up the inside of your soft thighs and trailing over the damp fabric between them.

He keeps teasing you like that, touching you but not actually touching you until you can't take it anymore, grabbing hold of his wrist and thrusting his hand under the waistband of your soaked panties. The moment his fingertips slide slickly over your clit it feels electric. Your forehead drops against his as he smirks at the state you're in, your breaths mingling as you spread your legs even wider to let him discover just what you like.

"Fuck baby, so damn wet," he marvels, encouraging your pretty moans and whimpers by dipping his two digits inside your tight walls and massaging his thumb in circles around your sensitive bud. "fucking dripping for me, beautiful. C'mon honey, let me make you feel good."

Your head flops backwards as he pumps and curls those long, thick fingers in a way that has you speedily racing to the edge. The higher, breathier pitch of your pleasured sounds has him wrapping the fingers of his free hand around your jaw and turning your head to make you face him.

"Wanna see that pretty face of yours, told you I wanna make you come and I want to see every damn second of it."

He kisses you deeply before pulling away to watch you quickly unravel by his hand, squeezing around his fast pumping fingers with a long moan of his name, so easy on your lips.

You cling around his neck until the last wave of your orgasm washes over you, leaving you hungrier, yearning for more.

"Alright, think we're even now, hm?" Roy remarks with a cheeky smirk as he slowly withdraws from your now ruined pants. After you quickly catch a bit of your breath you hop down off the counter, tugging him by the arm back towards your bedroom.

"Not by a long shot, Purver."

"Don't ya want breakfast?" He quips before you push him down hard on your bed, kicking off your panties and peeling off your shirt before you climb over him.

"All I want right now is you."

He watches you in awe, his hungry eyes roaming over your bare body, laying back preparing for you to do whatever the fuck you want to do to him. As you sit over his thighs you guide his hands up your warm skin encouraging him to fondle your breasts, he sits up so he's able to kiss and lick his way from one to the other, satisfied when he hears your little gasps and hums at the sensation of his hot mouth working on you. But you're impatient. You slam him back down on the mattress and shift forward, your slick pussy lips sliding over the thick base of his dick, your smile widening as Roy curses underneath you while you run your fingers down over the hard ridges of his chiseled abdomen.

"Jesus," he rasps as you eventually reach your destination, wrapping your fingers around his girth, giving him a few languid strokes. You trace the pad of your thumb over a prominent vein running the length of his cock and he throbs in your hand.

"Are you clean, Pulver? I feel I've got to check, when you have such a pretty face and dick like yours." You purr, stroking his balls then cupping them in your hand and giving a gentle squeeze that has him biting his lower lip between his teeth and arching under you.

"Oh god damn! I'll take that as a compliment. Yeah- yeah, I'm clean, baby, fucking sparkling actually. You?"

You nod as you don't hesitate to slide the tip of him between your folds to nudge the fat head of his cock at your entrance, both of you moaning in perfect unison as you sink down slowly, eager to feel every ridge of him sublimely caressing your inner walls. Seated deep within you he can feel you gripping him like a vice, so he does nothing but stroke his fingers up and down your arms and rest them at your waist until you're ready to move.

You're both completely sober but its as if the buzz of the previous night never went away, your gazes locked on each other as you start to fuck. You rise and fall on that class-A cock of his, already hopelessly addicted to the way he fills you, the way he's holding back and letting you go at your own selfish pace.

"Shiiit… feels- feels so good…" Your hands push down on his chest, fingers splayed out as you fuck yourself on him. "Roy-" you whine at him, "fucking move, please!"

"You got it princess." He grits through his teeth as he places his hands on your waist and starts rolling his hips up to meet you, letting you feel every fucking glorious inch of him. Your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation, nails dragging down his chest until you've got him groaning half in pleasure and half in pain, digging them in and pinching at his nipples. He snaps his pelvis up in response, hitting a spot so deep inside that has you crying out for more, for something rougher, rawer. Roy scoops his big hands under your ass and starts fucking you even harder, bouncing you on his cock, spearing you with every piston-like thrust. The more you moan out the harder he goes, his intense gaze flickering back and forth between your eyes, your mouth, your tits and the mesmerising view of his cock disappearing inside your slick cunt.

"Fucking beautiful." He praises. You grab one of his hands, bringing it up to your mouth and sucking your lips around his fingers and thumb before you guide him between your legs to help you get off. You're so turned on already, so full of him that it doesn't take much more for you to near the edge, riding him faster as your body is inevitably taken over with the powerful throbbing pulse of orgasm.

Roy is watching in wonder as you let it take you over, giving you mere seconds warning that he's ready to spill every fucking drop he has, as if you're going to want him to pull out now.

"Give it to me," you hiss, your pussy walls still contracting around him as you ride out one high straight into another. He gasps as you lean down, skin pressed to skin as you keep undulating above him, switching his fingers on your clit for your own as he begins to lose rhythm.

"Fucking give it to me Roy… yes!"

He groans long and deep, his body buckling, fingers digging into your soft curves as he jolts several times, finishing hot inside you.

You roll off of him, face crinkling in confusion as you come back down. "Wait, what?"

"Fuuuck…" he pants, a sheen of sweat covering his broad chest as it rises and falls with you laying on top. "doesn't matter how many times we do this, shit… every fucking time you blow my damn mind."

He scrubs a hand over his face, wincing slightly. "Uhh, nothing baby. Just babbling. You got me good y'know?"

"No Roy come on, what do you mean 'every time'?"

[nestastits]

Heyyyy!!!

I've got two questions

Favourite Nessian moment EVER

2. One thing you'd like to see in the next book

Have a good day 💕

Sorry it has taken me so long to answer this 😣.

1: Literally every scene 😭. There are so many. They are so special to me for so many reasons. But if I had to choose just one for this post I will have to go with the nightmare scene in acosf.

The nightmare was where we see the affect cassian has on Nesta and her power. Which I find very interesting. I sort of see Nesta’s power as more of its own thing. Like it has a mind of its own. I guess like a Venom type situation? If you’re a marvel fan you’ll understand my reference🤣. But Nesta can still tell it what to do. Anyways, in this scene Nesta is lost in her memories that have turned into nightmares and Rhys can’t break through her shields. He can’t contain her power either. It is Cassian who calms Nesta down with his voice and touch. And her power answers in return to him. It calls out when it hears him. And Nesta reaches out for him too. The morning after Nesta remarks on how it was Cassian’s voice that she followed to safety enough to let her mental shields down for Rhys to get her out of the nightmare. Then she talks about how Cassian looked like one of the warrior-princes from one of her childhood books which I thought was a very tender moment considering how harsh Nesta’s childhood was. And I’ve always seen Nesta as a romance reader (with some smut thrown in of course) dreaming of having her own warrior prince and now she finally has one. It’s also a scene where we first see Nesta allow herself to cry for how much someone else cares for her which is a breakthrough in her healing. Cassian also shows how much he cares for her during this scene and how uncomfortable he was seeing her in pain.

2: Honestly idk 😅. The next book could be an Elucien or Gwynriel book or potentially another Nesta book with the foreshadowing of hofas and sjm herself saying acosf was only Nesta’s happy beginning. But logically I think it will be an Elain/lucien book which I am all for!

As much as I love Night Court I’m hoping Elain will be the one to leave since she isn’t meant for that court anyways. Elain is definitely either a day court or spring court girly! I hope we see her really come into herself and see what’s in her mind. I think her story will be much different from her sisters’ because of her being the one who actually holds resentment towards being turned Fae. Elain loved her human life, she was content in marrying having children and growing old and dying. And now? Now she has to learn to live forever and what challenges come with it. She lost the only chance she had at happiness even if Graysen was yucky, she did love him and I think he loved her to an extent too. Or at least the idea of her. I’m also excited to be in Lucien’s pov finally! And I’m curious at how the bond between them will play out considering Elains wariness of it. I want a Elain x Eris brotp too😤.

I also think Elain is not a fan of the bond because she has a want to be seen by someone for who she is not because fate drives them together. I think it will be hard on her because she is already aware of the bond and it’s snapped in place. While I don’t think she is outright jealous of her sisters, maybe just a little envy? Imagine you and your sisters all getting mates but only you have the knowledge of knowing who yours is before you even actually meet them 😭 especially after being turned far through drowning in an oversized cooking pot. I’d be skeptical too. Plus Feyre and Nesta got the chance to know their mates without the pressure of the mating bond always being there, it didn’t snap in place for them until after becoming friends with their mates. But Elain and Lucien’s bond is already snapped in place, at least I think it is🤷🏼‍♀️. I understand how afraid and angry she probably is of having a Mating bond. Especially since she did excel at being human and wanting a human life. But like Feysands and Nessians bonds Elucien will fall in love with one another too. But I want Elain to live her life and go on her own journey before she jumps into a relationship with anyone.

Lastly, I need background Feysand as parents with baby nyx. I am not a fan of pregnancy trope but I’ll make an exception for cute bat baby nyxie. And of course my Nessian. I need all the soft background Nessian I can get. I need them sitting on the couch together laughing or eating chocolate cake of course. And I want to know how Elain feels about this and what goes on in her mind when she sees her sisters happy with their mates and fae life.

Hope this helps, and have an amazing day too 🫶🏻