#thank you for this! love this first meeting

[sailorsoons]

Amnesia (c.sc)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f. reader

Summary: Choi Seungcheol has never been the type to commit to relationships - casual is more his thing. You’re fine with that - except you and Seungcheol seem to be terrible at casual when it comes to one another. 

Word Count: 11,920

Genre: Friends with benefits to lovers 

Type: Smut, Angst if you squint 

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Under the cut

A/N: This fic was posted on my original blog which has been deleted. I am now reposting it. I hope it does half as well as it did when I originally posted this story - thank you to everyone who left amazing feedback the first time. It genuinely made me so happy and I am so sorry that it got sent to the moon where I can no longer read it.

A/N 2: Thank you @yoongukie-ff for sending me your original reblog of this to pull the summary information from. I appreciate you and I love you!

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Warnings: Recreational drinking, mild jealousy from both reader and Cheol, themes of self doubt/relationship doubt, light depictions of anxiety regarding ambiguous relationships, explicit language, Cheol and reader are both idiots, explicit sexual content including oral (f. and m. receiving), vaginal fingering, nipple stim, breath play if you squint, unprotected vaginal sex, a lot of bodily fluids like spit and cum, multiple smut scenes, hair pulling, light spanking, sub-space adjacent feelings, being a lil silly goofy during sex sometimes, stupid ass nicknames at the end because I’m a millennial and I’m cringe sometimes. 

DAY ONE

You’re a goner as soon as you lay eyes on him. You know it before Jeonghan properly introduces you, shouting over the rock music that is blaring in the dive bar you like to hang out at on Friday nights. The neon from the sign creates a blue silhouette around Seungcheol as he smiles and holds a hand out to you. You can barely pull yourself together to shake his hand - warm, firm - too busy staring at his face. 

Choi Seungcheol is what your best friend Vin likes to call pretty motherfuckin handsome. He’s got dark, warm eyes that light up playfully when they meet yours, full lips the color of crushed rose petals, a square, firm jawline and silky dark hair that falls in his eyes when he tilts his face down to hide a smile at something Jeonghan says. 

Crushed against the wall of the booth, you feel the cold glass of your beer warm against your palms as you steal glances at Seungcheol. He’s directly across from you, angling his broad shoulders to fit snug into the corner of the booth, lounging backward as he observes the argument brewing between Joshua and Jeonghan. 

He even dresses well. Fitted t-shirt paired with light wash jeans and boots, a fancy watch reflecting the burning neon on the wall next to him, delicate chain necklaces tucked into the collar of his shirt. 

It’s the way he wears them that speaks to you, though. 

“Do they do this often?” his deep voice drags you from your reverie. You blink, gathering yourself when you realize he’s leaning forward a little, addressing you. He sips his beer before tilting the tip of the bottle toward Jeonghan and Joshua. “It’s like they're married.”

“You have no idea. Wait until game night.” 

“Oh yeah. Jeonghan told me about game night.” Seungcheol’s mouth twitches in a smile. “You’ll be there?” 

“Every Sunday. Do you like games?” 

Something about the glint in his eye makes your stomach flip. You sip your beer just to give you something to do, feeling more drunk off the easy confidence he exudes as he shrugs. “Depends on the game. I’m competitive.” 

“So am I.”

He grins. “I look forward to it, then.” 

Warming up to Seungcheol is easy. He’s the new hire at Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s office, and they both felt confident enough to bring him into the fold. You can see why - he’s kind and funny, and there’s a charm to him that draws the people around him like moths to a flame. Even with just the four of you sitting in the booth, you feel the magnetism. 

Friday nights at Rusty’s has been a tradition with Jeonghan and Joshua since you had been in college, filling yourself on five dollar wings, three dollar beers and occasionally lukewarm mozzarella sticks. Normally Vin, Wonwoo and Mingyu would be around, but tonight it’s just the smaller group. 

Jeonghan and Joshua slide out of the booth to play darts, shoving one another back and forth, the drink in their step making them a little off balance. You smile fondly as you pluck another beer out of the bucket of ice, struggling to pop the top, your wet hands sliding against the metal cap. 

Wordlessly, Seungcheol holds his hand out. Flushing from the neck down, you hand it over to him with a silent thank you. He pops the top easily, bicep flexing for a moment before he passes it back over, shooting you an award winning grin. 

“Wow, so strong.”

He pouts and you swear you see stars. “Hey, I am strong.” 

“No, no, you are. Thank you.” 

“You shouldn’t tease me. I’m new.” 

“Huh.” You sip your beer, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat. It does nothing to soothe the heat spreading over your skin under the sole attention of Seungcheol. “I don’t remember that being a rule.” 

“I never was one to play by the rules anyway.” 

“Oh, so you’re saying you cheat at games like Jeonghan does.” 

“I like winning.”

You roll your eyes. From the edge of your vision, you see people leave the pool table. Eager to stand up and stretch your legs, you start to slide out of the booth, the wood grain scratching against your jeans as you do. 

“Come on then, cheater. Let’s play pool.” 

“I’m down.” 

Seungcheol follows you. Your fingers grip the glass of your drink tight, knuckles straining. You move around tables and duck around other patrons, hyper aware of the way Seungcheol keeps close to you, the heat of him against your back. 

Next to the rows of dart boards are two pool tables, the felt a faded green with beer stains and other mysterious smudges on the surface. You grab a cue from the rack on the wall, spin it in your hands, and hand it over to Seungcheol. He eyes it, running his fingers along the splintered and dented wood.

Grabbing your cue in one hand and the triangle rack and set it on the table while he collects the balls from the table and the pockets, rolling them over to you. A few feet away, Joshua is already accusing Jeonghan of cheating. You don’t know how you cheat in darts, but you do know if there is a will, Jeonghan will find a way.

“Dangerous to let them have sharp objects,” Seungcheol notes, sliding the last ball over to you. You huff out a laugh, rolling the rack of billiard balls back and forth to set them. “You’re not going to get violent with me, right?”

“I don’t know, are you going to cheat?”

His smile is wicked. “Me? Definitely not.” 

“Hmm. Not convincing.”

Seungcheol presses the flat of his palm over his chest, drawing your eyes to how thick he is in the chest area. You swallow thickly as he says, “Cross my heart.” 

“Whatever you say. What are we playing for?” 

“What will you give me?” 

You look up at the shift in his tone. Dark. Flirty. He leans against the pool table, resting his hip casually as he crosses his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his arms flex, totally focused on the way his eyes are only for you. Intent. Meaningful. 

A warning goes off in your head. You already feel the pull to him, the innate attraction that has your heart hammering. You should brush off the flirtation, move on to other things. Relationships aren’t really your thing, but there’s something about him that makes you know you’ll want more. 

You already do want more. 

“What do you want?” you ask softly, ignoring your better judgment. 

When Seungcheol smiles, you know you’d give him anything. Everything.

“I can think of something, I think.”

-

DAY SEVEN

“I like this,” Seungcheol says, voice rough from use. He buttons his jeans, looking over at you. You’re still half-alive on your bed, a sheen of sweat covering your body. The sheets stick to you when you roll to look at him. “Are you good with casual?”

You’re only half listening, too distracted by his flexing abs. “Hmm?”

Seungcheol looks good tonight. He looks good every night, but tonight he’s in dark jeans and a white sweater. The sweater looks soft like his hair, which has grown longer and hangs in his eyes as he looks down to slip on his shoes. 

“I’m not really looking for a relationship at the moment but this,” he answers, flicking his fingers between the two of you. “It’s good.” 

“Agreed. I’m good with casual. I’m a little too busy for anything more.” 

It’s not a lie. You are too busy to really commit to someone. Again, a warning goes off in your mind like that first night you met him, screaming danger. You ignore it, not ready to give up Seungcheol just yet. 

He grins, pulling his short back over his head. “Cool. If you ever don’t want to or whatever though, let me know, yeah?”

“You too.” 

-

DAY TEN 

Seungcheol [2:06 AM]: Come home with me You [2:06 AM]: Everyone would notice Seungcheol [2:07 AM]: Tell them where you’re going who caaaares Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Unless you don’t want to tell them then that’s ok Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: I personally don’t care if they know I’m rearranging your guts most nights :)  You [2:10 AM]: CHEOL You [2:10 AM]: Fine pls hold my hand while I do this. They’re going to roast me Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Holding your hand sooo tight Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: But from like over here tho  You [2:19 AM]: That was so embarrassing. Where did you go Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: She’s so brave, she’s well behaved Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: Standing outside hurry it's cold as dick out here

Seungcheol [4:38 AM]: Don’t forget to text me when you make it home  You [4:52 AM]: Home safe!  

-

DAY TWENTY THREE

You [11:10 PM]: Wyd Seungcheol [11:34 PM]: Need it that bad? You [11:39 PM]: Wow goodnight!!!!! Seungcheol [11:39 PM]: Nah come back Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: COME BACK Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: Omw. Unlock the door You [11:45 PM]: Need it that bad?  Seungcheol [11:45 PM]: Yes actually :) 

-

DAY THIRTY

You slide your finger across the phone, curious as you pick up Seungcheol’s phone call. “Hello?”

“Are you hungry?” 

You look at your watch. It’s almost one in the afternoon, your stomach growling as it realizes that yeah you are kind of hungry. “Actually yeah. Why?” 

“I had to run errands and I’m by your place and starving. Wanna get lunch?” 

Your lips twitch in a smile. Leaning against the counter, you press the phone against you a little closer. “Sure, what did you have in mind?” 

“Do you like Greek?” You hum in assent, chewing on your fingernail nervously. You can hear him get into his car, pausing momentarily as he starts it and curses at how hot it is. You can’t help but laugh. “Alright, pick you up in ten?”

“Alright.” 

-

DAY FORTY THREE

He’s not yours. You tell yourself that over and over again as you try not to look across the bar where Seungcheol is sitting for the nth time. You’d noticed him immediately when you and Vin walked in, clocking his wide frame and familiar laugh with a precision that makes you curse yourself.

Now, Seungcheol is leaning against a high top, talking to a pretty girl sitting on a stool next to him. He’d waved at you earlier and shot you a smile and a wink, but he’s with friends you’re unfamiliar with tonight, and hasn’t come over.

Not that you expect him to. He isn’t yours and the casual thing you’ve got going means he can do whatever he wants, no strings attached.

So why is your heart in your throat as you glance over to see the girl laughing at something he’s said? They’re not alone but somehow that isn’t comforting at all. You pick at the varnish on the table to distract yourself, suddenly interested in the splinters and not the man across the bar from you.

Finishing the rest of your beer, you pull out another, hoping that the hoppy taste erases the icky feeling that settles on your skin. You’re not participating in conversation much, but if your friends notice, they have the decency not to call you out. 

At least Vin knows what’s up, checking on you every once in a while. Thankfully she doesn’t say anything, occasionally giving you a squeeze instead. She knows the deal, understanding the irrationality between wanting to control something that isn’t yours to control. 

Halfway through your beer, your phone vibrates. You flip it over and your heart starts pounding when you see Seungcheol’s name come across the screen, a message waiting to be read. With a shaky hand, you slide your thumb across the screen to unlock it, the message popping up.

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: Wanna come back to mine? 

Surprised, you look up from your phone to where he’s still at the high top. His phone is in his hands and he’s looking right at you, flashing a grin when you meet his eyes. The girl is still sitting next to him, but his attention is entirely on you now, pinning you to the spot. 

Your phone vibrates again and you glance down, your phone’s brightness stark in the gloom of the bar. 

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: You’re cute when you’re surprised You [12:14 AM]: What, the girl you were talking to said no? Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: I didn’t ask her. I asked you Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: Omg wait are you jealous?? You [12:14 AM]: No You [12:14 AM]: Definitely not  Seungcheol [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me is Hades for a liar or whatever You [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another, loser Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Same thing Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: But seriously, I have no interest in her. I’m asking YOU Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Will beg from my knees in this bar Seungcheol [12:19 AM]: Even tho the floor is kind of gross You [12:20 AM]: I mean, if you’re offering to get on your knees…

You’re not sure if you trust his answer about not being interested in the other girl, but it doesn’t matter. You still end up leaning against him in an Uber, his hand squeezing your thigh playfully as he leans his forehead on the window, eyes closed to enjoy the cool glass. 

He is so handsome, face glowing red as the car stops at a stoplight. You examine him closely, eyes dragging from the soft curve of his mouth to his impossibly silk lashes. You’d told him once that most girls would kill for those lashes, and now he likes to bat them at you every time he wants something. 

The car starts moving and you look away from him, taking in a deep breath. Seungcheol isn’t yours, but you’re starting to think you want him to be. 

DAY FIFTY TWO

“Is it weird if I bring a bag of shit to stay?” Seungcheol’s voice is shy over the receiver. You grip your phone tighter, biting your bottom lip to hide your smile as you roll onto your side in bed, snuggling into the pillow more. It smells like him, bergamot and cedarwood. “You can tell me if that’s weird.”

“Not weird at all,” you say carefully, too nervous to scare him off. “You usually end up sleeping here anyway.” 

Usually really means always. He’s been doing that more recently, crashing at your apartment after coming over and vice versa. You’ve gone from Uber rides home at dawn to waking up curled into his back. He’s the first person you’ve ever let loiter in your space as much as he has, but you try not to think about it too much, as though just the acknowledgement might spook him.

Whatever thing between you feels fragile, a rare, glass menagerie set that can shatter if handled wrong. Friends with benefits is what you call it, but you’re not quite sure if that’s what it is.

“Okay cool. Waking up at the ass crack of dawn to go back to my place and shower sucks.” 

“I do have a shower.”

“Oh I’m aware. It’s one of my favorite places in your apartment.” 

Your stomach flutters and you clench your thighs together. Looking at the clock on your nightstand, you realize it’s getting late. “Better hurry,” you murmur. “I might be too tired for a shower when you get here.” 

His chuckle is deep. Throaty. “I’ll speed, then.” 

After hanging up, you toss your phone to the end of your bed and stare at the ceiling. Outside, the city hums beyond the window of your apartment. The lights in your home are mostly turned off, a single lamp providing low light in the living room so Seungcheol can see when he comes in, and a flickering candle on your nightstand and in the bathroom. 

Your bed is warm and you do feel sleepy, but the excitement of seeing Seungcheol keeps you awake well enough. You try not to think of that too much, either. He was just there a few nights prior, and already he’s on his way back. Like it’s common. Routine. 

And it sort of is, you guess. You hangout with Seungcheol almost more than you see Vin and Jeonghan these days, and you’re almost always spending the night together. You know his favorite late night snacks, you know the type of coffee he likes to make in the morning before work, and you know about his family, his stresses at work. What makes him tick. 

It’s more than you ever thought you’d know about him when you agreed to keep your sex life with him casual and at a distance. He is anything but at a distance. 

Seungcheol must speed, because it feels like hardly any time has passed when you hear your apartment door open and shut, the sound of the deadbolt clicking. You lift yourself up to lean on your elbows, watching from your bed as he enters your line of vision, a backpack over one shoulder. 

He’s dressed in a long t-shirt and sweats, cozy and warm and still unbelievably good looking. He grins when he sees you, eyes creasing at the corners as he enters your room and drops his bag by your door. 

Without saying anything, Seungcheol crawls onto your bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he inches up over you. Falling backward onto the mattress, you let him loom over you. Heat radiates from his body, warming you up. Your heart thuds as he ducks down, his hands bracketing your head as he cages you in. He brushes his nose against yours and you feel sparks, trying to regulate your breathing. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

“Hi,” you whisper back, reaching your hands up to rest on his hips. He reacts, pressing his waist into yours a little, making you bear his weight. “Ugh, heavy.” 

“Too bad.” 

Seungcheol’s teeth nip your jaw, making your hips twitch upward. You can feel the smirk against your skin as he presses a wet kiss under your ear, moving his way to your neck. 

“I was promised a shower.”

“Maybe I’m too tired,” You murmur.

He hums, leaning more of his weight into you. It’s comforting, not crushing, and you can feel the way his heart is beating wildly in his chest, in tune with yours. You smell bergamot and cedarwood, making your thoughts dizzy and scattered while he whispers, “I’ll wash your hair.” 

“Hmmm. I’m listening.” 

He presses a wet kiss to your pulse point, tongue laving against your skin. Your fingers twist in his shirt, your muscles tensing as you fight off a shiver. You can hear his soft breath, the way the sheets shift under the two of you, the way your heart hammers.  

“I’ll massage your shoulders…” 

“Hmm.” 

His teeth scrape against your throat and you sigh, arching up into him, eyes closed. “I’ll eat you out.” 

Fuck. You’re putty in his hands. Seungcheol could get you to do anything he asked. You don’t know if he knows - you’re too afraid to show him, to let him in on the secret out of fear of what it would mean to him. If it was too much, too deep.

But like this, it’s hard not to hide it. Especially when his filthy mouth hits a weak point in you, turning you thoughtless as you nod your head in response, nails digging into his hip bones through the fabric of his shirt. He makes a noise in response, leaning up off of you reluctantly but pulling you with him. 

Dropping his hands, you head to the bathroom, feeling uneven. Seungcheol whines and grabs you to pull you back toward him. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly. 

“You haven’t even given me a kiss,” he pouts, looking down at you through long, dark lashes. “I want a kiss.” 

This is the problem with Seungcheol. He says things like this when you’re supposed to be casual, something easy and without feelings and without strings. But this feels like something, it feels like there's a thread connecting you, tugging your mouth to his because of course you indulge him.

You always do. 

Seungcheol’s lips are soft and taste faintly of his cherry chapstick. You smile into the kiss, standing on your tiptoes to press closer to him. He kisses you back eagerly, slotting his lips against yours and humming with delight. When you pull away, he’s smug, grinning happily. 

“Come on,” he urges, now leading the charge as he pulls you by the hand toward your bathroom. 

Instead of turning on the light, Seungcheol uses the glow of the burning candle on the counter to navigate. He drops your hand to open up the cabinets and pulls out two towels as you trail to the shower, opening the glass door to lean in and turn it on. 

Steam starts to fill the room as you close the shower door and turn to him. He sets the towels on the counter, not bothering to shut the door to the bedroom. Instead, he grips the bottom of his shirt and peels it upward and over his head, revealing all toned muscle and tan skin. 

He momentarily distracts you. Seungcheol is a work of art, equal parts rippling muscle and soft skin. You slide your shorts down, distracted by the way he looks in the golden shroud of the candle light, sliding his sweatpants down his legs. 

Sensing your eyes, he lifts his head as he kicks off his sweats, briefs slung low on his hips. “Admiring me?” 

“Shut up.” 

Looking away, you take off your shirt, feeling the heat flush from your cheeks down to your neck. He chuckles, peeling off his briefs before kicking them toward the sink and striding toward the shower. He stops to kiss you on the cheek as he pulls open the door. 

“I don’t mind,” he teases. “I like it.” 

It’s true. Seungcheol has always had the easy confidence of someone who is comfortable in their skin. You admire that about him - and envy him a little. Seungcheol never seems to worry what others think of him, nor does he seem embarrassed or concerned about making the wrong move. Saying the wrong thing. 

Steam hits you full on as you step into the shower. Seungcheol is already standing under the spray of water, his back turned toward you. For a moment you admire him again, watching the way the water sluices down his broad back and narrow waist. 

Your eyes drift to the tattoo at his neck, the branches of the tree stretching toward his shoulders. You’ve traced that tree with the tips of your fingers and tongue over and over again, fascinated about the way the ink flexes when he moves. 

A chill catches you, making you shiver and step toward the heat of the water. He senses your approach, turning his head to the side to look at you over his shoulder. He grins, reaching a hand back toward you to pull you close. You lace your fingers, letting him pull you into him as he turns. 

Hot water hits your skin, immediately soothing. You sigh, leaning into the firmness of him, Seungcheol’s arms wrapping around you. He catches your mouth again, your eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you slowly, tongue lazy as he licks into your mouth. 

Seungcheol’s hands spread across your back, fingers digging in a little as he starts to explore, one hand surging up and the other down. You moan into his mouth as the hand that drifts down grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing a little. His mouth curves into the kiss and you feel his teeth pull at your bottom lip, something he knows you love.

As always, you’re a goner. You don’t stand a chance with him. Not that first night and not now when he kisses you like something more. Not when he slides his hand around to your front, pressed between your bodies to run his fingers up the wet folds of your pussy. 

He groans into the kiss that has turned sloppy, hungry. “Fucking wet.”

“We’re in the shower.” 

He growls and pulls his mouth from you to attach to your neck, biting and sucking harshly. You let out a breathy sound, head tilting back heavily as you feel his tongue lick the water from your skin. “Don’t take away my credit.” 

“The only crime is pride.”

The pads of his fingers press into your clit, making your knees knock together and the breath leave your lungs. He smiles against your neck, humming. “Which classic are you quoting at me today?” 

“Antigone by Sophocles.” 

“What’s that one about?” 

Finding words is nearly impossible. The heat of the shower has you flushed and distracted, the steam making it harder to breathe, thoughts sticky as Seungcheol continues to tease you, fingers dragging down to your clenching entrance to press his fingers in slightly before dragging them back up.

Your nails bite into the back of his neck, clinging to him for life as he holds you up, one arm looped around your back to press you to him while the other makes all your thoughts scattered. 

“Come on,” he urges gently, bringing his face to yours. He brushes his nose against yours, nudging. “Tell me.” 

“She was a tragic character in a play written by Sophocles,” you sigh. “She was the daughter of Oedipus.” 

“The guy who fucked his mom?”

Your laughter bubbles out of you. He laughs too, his hold tightening. “Yeah, Cheol. The guy who fucked his mom.”

“Craaazy family.” 

“Do you really want to talk about Greek tragedy incest right now?”

“Nope,” he says happily. “I do want to eat this pussy though.” 

Seungcheol flips gears so quickly that it’s hard to keep up. He swings you toward the glass wall of the shower, pressing your chest against it. You moan loudly, startled by the cool glass against your hard nipples. The contrast of hot water and the cool glass feels good, your eyes fluttering shut as Seungcheol drops to his knees behind you. He gently presses the inside of your knees, urging you to spread your legs. 

“Just like that,” he encourages, hands ghosting upward to squeeze your ass. He pulls your hips away from the glass and toward him, groaning as he comes face level to your cunt. “Fuck.”

Your breath fogs the glass. It’s cold when you press your palms against it, holding yourself up as Seungcheol dips forward, running the flat of his tongue down your slit. You let out a pathetic sound and he laughs, fingers squeezing your flesh. 

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. You melt, knees shaking and unsteady as Seungcheols tongue leisurely explores your folds, dipping into your entrance before dragging up to circle your clit. 

One of your hands leaves the glass to reach back, sinking into the wet strands of his hair and holding him to you. He grunts in pleasure, the buzz of his mouth adding to the simulation as he fastens his lips to you, sucking gently. 

Seungcheol’s mouth is a weapon. You fall apart under the warmth of his lips, the softness of his tongue. He sucks at your core, greedy and pleased, fingers digging into you as he presses in further. He can never get enough, the wet sounds of his hunger making your toes curl.

“Feels so good,” you pant against the glass. Your nails scrape against his scalp and he moans loudly, muffled by your cunt. “Your fucking mouth.” 

“Mmm. Love you like this.” His tongue flicks expertly across your clit and you feel your thighs clench, legs shaking as your orgasm spools inside of you. “God this shower hurts my fucking knees though.”

“You wanted to eat me out in the shower.”

A hand cracks across your ass cheek, making you arch against the glass. He chuckles, tongue diving back, words slurred as he mutters, “And I’d do it again.”

Seungcheol’s mouth feels divine. You go quiet as he sucks at you, focused on the warmth spreading through you and the way your breath starts to stutter, limbs locking up. 

When you come, you go boneless. Seungcheol holds you up, pressing you against the glass as he licks you through your orgasm. You twitch against him, nails dragging in his hair, your other hand sliding against the glass as you fight to grip anything to ground you.

Breathing raggedly, you sag when he pulls his face from you and stands. He groans and you grin, knowing his knees hurt from the tile of the shower. He doesn’t care, though. He crowds you in, cock pressed against your backside as his arms loop around you. 

“Kiss me.” His voice is soft, needy. 

Turning your face over your shoulder, you let him catch his mouth with yours, all tongue and cum and spit. You don’t care, pushing into him. One of his hands slides down between your legs, making you whimper into his mouth as he slides his fingers through your sticky folds to press two of them into your entrance. 

Seungcheol is a giver. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve slept together or had brief, fast encounters, he always makes it a point to please you. To go out of his way to make you shake against him, like he needs it. 

He keeps your mouth melded to his as his fingers fuck you slowly. You clench around his fingers, moaning his name as he presses them against the soft spot inside of you. You see stars, panting into his mouth as he strings you along, dragging you toward another orgasm. 

It’s slow. Intimate. His mouth is hot and wet, sucking at biting at your bottom lip. His other hand snakes up to your throat, not applying pressure but gripping you, holding you to him. If he didn’t have you so tightly pressed to the glass, you think you’d collapse.

“You won’t fall,” he breathes into your mouth, reading your mind. “I’ve got you.”

“My knees are fucking useless right now.”

“You’re tough. Come on, I know you can give me more.” 

You’ll give him anything he asks. You feel your heart slamming in your chest as he works you up again, feel the ragged breathing until you momentarily stop, everything tense and suspended as you clench around his fingers, shuddering violently as you come. 

“Knew it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

A whine leaves you at the praise, head shaking back and forth a little as the oversensitivity makes you squirm. He works you through it, mouth pressed to your ear, whispering to breathe, baby as he strokes you gently until you’re leaning against him heavily. 

Seungcheol removes his hand but keeps holding you up, letting you catch your breath. He peppers innocent kisses along your shoulder, lips brushing your skin tenderly. When you stand up with more strength, he pats you on the hip, gentle.

“Good?”

“Mhmm.” Craning over your shoulder, you catch his chin with your mouth, kissing softly. You press your ass into him, feeling his straining cock. “Come on.” 

“Yeah?”

“All good.”

“Thank fuck. Thought I lost you.”

“I’ve had worse,” you grin, a little tired.

He kisses you, patting you approvingly before he grinds the tip of his cock between your legs. He groans deep in his chest, grip on you tightening for a moment. You reach behind you, gripping the base of his cock firmly, stroking gently before lining him up with your entrance. 

Seungcheol pushes in, both of you whining in harmony at the feeling. It feels good, your pussy throbbing around him as he presses in slowly, letting you feel the stretch. He clings to you, trying to keep it together as you flutter around him. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, more to himself than you. “Shit.” 

Gently, Seungcheol starts to fuck you against the glass, strokes deep and slow. It’s mind-numbingly good, your cheek cool and pressed against the shower wall, Seungcheol’s face buried in your neck, breath puffing against your skin. 

He holds you reverently, both hands on your hips to keep you where he wants you. You reach one hand behind your head, holding the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin. He hums happily, always pleased when you bite and scratch him.

That had been a surprise. You always thought he wouldn’t want you to mark him, that he wouldn’t want evidence of your time spent together. Seungcheol is the opposite though, urging you to rake your nails across soft skin, to bite at him and bruise him. 

Your feet slide apart a little as he strengthens his thrusts. You squeal, hand smacking the glass to hold yourself up. He lets out a loud laugh, pausing to let you fix your stance. He taps your thigh in question and you nod, lifting your leg a little to let him slide a hand under your thigh to press it against the shower wall for better grip.

When he rolls his hips into you this time, it’s deeper, making you tremble against the glass. A groan drips from Seungcheol’s mouth as he sets his pace, pinning you between him and the glass with nothing to do but to take what he gives you. 

“Can you do another?” he asks, breath shaky. His fingers squeeze your thigh for emphasis, the snap of his hips getting stronger. You nod, unable to answer verbally. He huffs, half laughter, half something else. “Yeah you can.” 

And you can. Seungcheol can pull pleasure out of you like thread from a loom, his skilled hands guiding you where he wants you to go. It’s easy for him, the way he knows your body so acute and familiar that the thought alone makes you unravel a little, your whines muted by the glass. 

He makes you come like that, stuck between his warmth and the cold, the two contrasts keeping you suspended as you seize up around him. He grunts at the feeling, hips sloppy, losing their rhythm until he clenches up, growling your name into your neck as he tips over the edge after you. 

For a few moments, you remain melded together, panting in time. Seungcheol makes no rush of peeling himself away from you. Instead, he’s content to mouth at your shoulder and neck, running his nose along your throat. You squirm and laugh, ticklish. 

Grinning, he does it again, nuzzling into you and making you laugh, sound echoing in the shower. “Seungcheol!”

“It’s cute.” 

“Come on,” you urge. “You said you’d wash my hair.” 

He steals a kiss. “Alright, alright. Pass me the shampoo.” 

-

DAY FIFTY SEVEN

“Who is that?” Seungcheol asks, jerking his head toward the bar. You turn and follow his gaze to see Seokmin standing at the bar, ordering drinks. “Never seen him before.”

“Jealous?” You tease, leaning forward and batting your eyelashes at him. Seokmin is just a coworker, but it doesn’t mean you can’t poke Seungcheol a little. Except Seungcheol doesn’t laugh, leveling you with a stare, lips turning downward. “Wait, you actually are.”

“Don’t push it. It was just a question.”

“We work together,” you clarify, immediately turning off the charm when you recognize he’s not amused. “Actually I think he sort of has a thing for Vin, which is why he’s here.” 

Seungcheol hums, sipping his beer and looking away from you. Licking your lips, you reach out a hand and touch his gently, bringing his dark eyes back to you. He looks serious - more serious than you’ve ever seen him, face blank, eyes unreadable. 

“I mean it.” You squeeze his hand, trying to comfort him. “We’re just friends.” 

“Alright.” 

“I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?” 

You shrug, struggling to articulate. He still has that expression you can’t read, something stark and closed off. “Just seems like it.” 

He shakes his head again, but you don’t think he’s telling the truth, watching the way his eyes shift to watch Seokmin approach. “Just tired, I think I might head out.” 

Panic grips you and you say the first thing you can think of, throwing caution to the wind. “Want to come over?” 

That gives him pause. He studies you. You feel a tightness in your throat under his scrutiny. His mouth twitches and he nods. “Alright,” he says softly. “If you want me to.”

“I do.” You squeeze his hand again. “Really.”

-

DAY SEVENTY EIGHT

“Want to do me a huge favor?” 

You look up from your spot on your couch. Seungcheol is in your kitchen, using his hip to close the door to the fridge. He lifts the lid on the package of grapes, plastic cracking loudly as he does. Leaning against the counter, he pops one into his mouth, crunching happily. 

“Besides giving you my grapes?” you ask, deadpan. He grins around them shrugging happily as he eats another. You roll your eyes, turning back to the laptop carefully balanced on your knee. “What’s the favor?” 

“We have this giant New Years Eve party at work in two weeks and I need a date.”

That gives you pause. You stare at the computer screen but you can’t make out anything on the screen. You don’t dare to turn and look at Seungcheol, fearful that the feelings his question brings out will be right on the surface of your expression.

Date. It’s a scary word. You and Seungcheol sort of go on dates all the time, but they’re not really dates. At least, not from your perspective. If you were to ask Jeonghan, he would launch into another lecture that you should just put a goddamn title on this thing. Vin happily agrees, both of them hammering you on calling the thing between you and Seuncheol what it is.

But it’s friends with benefits. Friends go out to eat meals together and go shopping together - they hangout. The benefits are the sex. It’s the pressing you against your mattress as he maps your body with his mouth, it’s the way you sink to your knees for him after he’s had a bad day at work, taking him into the heat of your mouth to make him forget. 

So yes, you’ve gone places together alone and as a friend date. But somehow this feels different, and you don’t think it’s supposed to. 

Carefully, you ask, “Your date, huh?”

“Mhmm. Free drinks and apps, and it’s at the top of that fancy new hotel. We can stay the night so we don’t have to pay for an expensive as fuck Uber” 

Not for the first time, you find yourself unsure where the line is with Seungcheol. You’ve agreed multiple times that this is just casual, a shared benefit between friends. And yet every time you feel confident in what you are, the line blurs. 

You’re as guilty as he is, you know. On more than one occasion you’re the one who has crossed the line, messing up the clear boundary the two of you have had in place for weeks. Somehow, you both manage to be utterly terrible at casual, but you’re too afraid to say something about it. Too afraid to ruin it. 

“I suppose I can be convinced.” 

“Oh? What can I do to convince you?” 

You look up as his tone turns to velvet, that voice he uses when he’s coaxing you into his lap, or when he’s- 

“It’s really hard to be sexy when there’s grape juice running down your chin, Cheol.” 

He pouts, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the lower half of his face as you laugh. He’s cute, pink lips downturned and eyes round as he sulks. “Don’t make fun of me. Just say yes to being my date.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go.” 

His grin is burnished gold, the sun breaking for first light over the horizon. “Thank you.” 

“Mhmm.” He crunches into another grape and you scowl. “Stop eating all my fucking grapes!” 

-

DAY NINETY TWO

“Holy shit,” Seungcheol mutters when you step out of the hotel bedroom. He feels his heart start to pound in his chest from where he stands in the kitchenette, fingers squeezing the glass of whiskey he poured himself earlier. “You look unreal.”

And you do. You always do. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when Jeonghan and Joshua introduced the two of you that first night at that shitty bar you like to go to on Fridays. The real kicker had been your personality, though. Warm, kind, quick wit. A bit of a history nerd, which is his favorite thing. 

Honestly, he loves a lot of things about you. He knows that he has to do something about that. Knows that this stopped being casual a long time ago. Seungcheol has no problem with casual hookups and keeping people in a rotation, but when it comes to you… he just wants you. 

It’s like he has no idea how to keep his distance, how to keep his feelings out of it. He doesn’t mind, but he needs to figure out how to tell you. How to take that next step and move you from friends to more - if that’s what you want, anyway. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you say back neutrally. He can see the way your eyes linger on him though, your gaze betraying the calmness of your voice, as always.

You don’t get it, though. Seungcheol cannot keep his eyes off you, dragging them from top to bottom. The black dress is snug on your frame, his eyes tracing the swells of your breasts, the dip of your hips, the curve of your ass and thighs. 

Dragging his eyes back up, he meets your gaze. That is one of his favorite things. Your eyes, full of light and depth and thoughts that he always wants to fall into. There is so much simmering under the surface that you don’t say and he’s never asked.

He wants to. 

Knocking back the rest of his drink, Seungcheol leaves the glass on the counter and walks over to you. You shift from foot to foot, eyes darting up to examine the ceiling. He smirks, feeling the nerves radiating from you as he approaches. 

When he reaches out, you don’t step away from him. You let him skim his hands up your sides, going until he’s running them over your shoulders and on either side of your neck so he can cradle your face. He turns your gaze back to him and you stare up at him through your lashes. 

He was a goner on day one. How ridiculous to think he’s not just made this real, told you how he doesn’t want a single thing to be casual and superficial between you. 

Instead of stealing a searing kiss and pushing you back into the bedroom like he wants to, Seungcheol presses a short kiss to the corner of your mouth. He’s too afraid that if he starts something that you won’t make it downstairs. 

Now isn’t the time for that, though. There’s a party upstairs and free drinks and he wants to spend time with his friends. Spend time with you.

The Seungcheol that existed before you is a stranger to him. He barely remembers what it was like to have people he wasn’t genuinely interested in, what it was like to show up alone at parties and take someone home. Hardly recalls pushing people away when they wanted too much. 

All it took was meeting you.

“Come on,” he urges gently, leading you from the room and to the elevator. 

Seungcheol slides his phone from his pocket in the elevator. You press close against him, your arm brushing against his as it fills up with people. He notes where Wonwoo tells him to meet and puts his phone back in his pocket, leaning into you a little.

You let him, making his mouth twitch upward. You always let him do what he wants, and when you don’t, an easy pout gets his way. He’s wrapped around your finger, too. He doesn’t know if you realize it, but he would give you anything you wanted without a moment's hesitation. 

When the elevator doors open, Seungcheol takes your hand. You let him pull you into the party teeming with people, the sound of music swelling over the dull roar of the crowd. You stick closer to him, fingers squeezing him tightly as the pair of you walk toward the check-in table. 

“This is beautiful,” you murmur to him. 

His first instinct is to look at you because you are beautiful. You’re not looking at him, your neck craned to sweep over the party. He smiles at you, watching the glow of your side profile, eyes wide with wonder.

Dragging his eyes from your face, he glances around the party. It is gorgeous, with views of the entire city glittering beneath the building like a bed of stars, shimmering decorations reflecting the golden lights, a giant clock to show the time, and massive flower arrangements. 

“It’s nice,” he agrees, shuffling to the table where he gives his name. “Choi Seungcheol.”

“Perfect, thanks.” The person working the table peels two wristbands and gestures for you both to hold out your wrists. You let go of his hand to do so, letting the attendant wrap your arm in a blue band. “Have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Choi.” 

Both of you blink in surprise. You open and close your mouth as if you’re unsure how to correct them and Seungcheol laughs, shrugging as he takes your hand and leads you out of the line and into the party proper this time.

“This way, wifey.” 

You roll your eyes but grin anyway, looping your arm through his offered one and tugging him close. He’s satisfied, leading you through the tight crowd of people toward the south bar that Wonwoo had said their friends were waiting at.

Joshua spots you and waves you both over, making room at the bar for you to join. Jeonghan’s eyes flick to where your arm is looped through Seungcheol to Seungcheol himself, raising a brow. Seungcheol glares at him, urging him to shut up and Jeonghan grins, turning to order drinks at the bar. 

Wonwoo claps Seungcheol on the back in greeting before kissing you on both cheeks and letting you sit on the only barstool available. Seungcheol moves with you pressed to your back as he leans an elbow on the bar, keeping you close. You lean into him, earning a shy smile that he tries to hide behind the rim of the champagne glass that Jeonghan hands him.

He likes this. He likes being with his friends. He likes the way you laugh and lean back further into him when you do. He likes that his friends don’t bother the two of you about being attached at the hip. And he likes the way your face lights up every time he jokingly calls you wifey. 

Seungcheol wants this. 

He doesn’t recall the last time he wanted a relationship the way he wants with you. It doesn’t matter anyway. Everything before you is gone and forgotten, and what matters now are the things that are post-meeting-you. 

Plied with lots of champagne and your laughter, Seungcheol lets you drag him onto the dance floor, wrapping your arms around him as he spins you. He doesn’t know what has him more drunk, the alcohol or you. He thinks it might be you. 

The DJ announces that it’s one minute until midnight, making Seungcheol spin and look up at the clock. The partygoers cheer, clustering together to press toward the clock to count down. Seungcheol wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you close in the tight crowd. 

His heart flutters as he watches the numbers countdown, realizing he gets to kiss you at midnight. He’s kissed you over a hundred times by now, but the prospect makes him giddy. His heart races as the numbers drop and he looks at you from the corner of your eye.

You’re watching the clock, uncontrolled happiness on your face as you yell with the rest of the crowd, counting each number as it passes by. 

When the clock strikes midnight, you peer up at him, suddenly unsure. He can’t believe you don’t see it, that you’d doubt for one second that he wants you to be his first kiss of the year. His heart seizes, dipping down with a smile to press his lips to yours.

Your mouth is warm and champagne-sweet, making him groan in the back of his throat. Your fingers cling to his hip, holding him by the waist as he slips a hand up to the back of your neck to hold you in place, deepening the kiss. 

When you pull your mouth away, he makes up his mind. Fuck everything he said about keeping it casual - he doesn’t want to go another minute without you knowing what he wants. 

-

DAY NINETY THREE

“Be my girlfriend.”

The words that come from Seungcheol’s lips catch you off guard. A giggle bursts to your lips and you lean back, trying to examine him from a little farther away. You feel the glitter of champagne in your veins and the same buzz that comes with being near Seungcheol, wondering if maybe he’s had too much to drink.

“What?” you ask, examining his face. He’s flushed, lips pink and smiling, but his eyes are dark and serious.

“Be my girlfriend,” he says again, this time quieter. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath fans your face, warm and sweetened by champagne. “I know we agreed to be casual so if you don’t want more, that’s fine. But there is nothing casual about the way I feel about you.”

Heart thundering, you laugh and cling to him a little tighter. He nudges you with his head, as though asking what’s so funny. You don’t know how to put into words that you’ve wanted to be not casual for a long time, that you are dizzy with the prospect of being something more, that he’s just made the first minute of your year perfect.

Instead of trying to string together the words to tell him, you kiss him. His mouth turns upward, letting you press your palms to the sides of his face, holding him to your lips. There’s no one else but just the two of you, entirely in your own bubble on the rooftop. 

Relief mixed with euphoria floods your system. It’s a weight lifted off your shoulders, realizing that you’re not crazy, that nothing you feel about Seungcheol is casual and that’s okay. That he feels it too. 

Your fingers slide into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling slightly. He groans, separating your mouths to peer down at you, his lashes fanning when he blinks, dazed. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispers. “This is a work party. I’ll fold right here.” 

���So take me somewhere that isn’t here and fold.”

His gummy smile is blinding, your heart soaring. “Alright, wifey.” 

“Gonna need a ring pop at a minimum if you’re gonna keep saying that shit.”

He links your fingers together, stepping away from you. He tugs you after him and you follow. “Deal. What flavor?”

“Strawberry. I kind of want to suck something else right now, though.” 

Seungcheol groans and you laugh, loving the way he visibly struggles as your words land. He walks faster, a new pep in his step as you make your way toward the elevator. He shouts Wonwoo’s name as he goes, waving his hand to tell him that you’re leaving. 

Wonwoo’s grin is all-knowing as he throws two thumbs up, cheering happily. You tingle with a little bit of embarrassment, scurrying toward the closing elevator door to catch it. It opens again and you both slip inside, alone and buzzing from the party and your newfound status. 

The door closes and Seungcheol pushes in close. You press against the wall, looking up at his sharp grin, his nose nudging yours. His lips are almost on yours, the heat of them against your mouth making you dizzy and the heavy weight of his body against yours making your thoughts sticky. 

“Gonna suck something else, huh?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Wanna do it right here in the elevator?” 

“Huh?” 

He bursts into laughter at your wide gaze, tapping the underside of your chin with his knuckle in jest. “I’m kidding. Unless…”

You shove him away and he starts laughing again, bending over with the force of it. You can’t be annoyed by his teasing, loving the way his eyes crease at the corner and how he laughs with the full force of his body. 

“You’re so annoying.” 

“You should have seen your face, though.” 

“I mean I’ll do it right now, if you want.”

His smile drops and he opens his mouth a little, shocked. “Wait, really?”

“No, but you should have seen your face.”

The elevator arriving at the appropriate floor saves him from answering. He scowls at you and you giggle, grabbing him and pushing him into the hall and toward your room. He turns on his heel, falling into step with you and fishing the room key out of his pocket. 

It’s cold in the room when you enter. Seungcheol had booked a one bedroom suite with a small living room and kitchenette. It was more than what you needed for the night, but it feels nice, like your own private getaway. 

Taking you by the hand, he walks backward toward the bedroom, pulling you along. His smile is beautiful and you wear a matching one. A thrill shoots through you when you realize that Seungcheol is yours. Really yours. 

Sitting on the bed, he pulls you into his lap. Your knees sink in the mattress on either side of his hips, ass resting on his thighs. Leaning over him, you link your hands behind the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the silky hair there. 

Seungcheol tilts his face up toward you, eyes fluttering as you play with his hair. His arms loop around your waist, squeezing you. 

“Hi,” he breathes. 

“Hi.”

Leaning down, you slot your mouth against his. He tastes like champagne, mouth warm. Kissing him takes your breath away, thoughts guttering out as he licks into your mouth hungrily. You lose yourself in the feeling of him, feeling like you’re on fire. 

Seungcheol falls backward on the bed. His lips are swollen and pink, eyes heavy-lidded as he stares up at you. He reaches for you but you give him a coy smile and slip from his lap, crouching to the floor and running your hands along his thighs, feeling them flex beneath your touch. 

You love Seungcheol’s thighs. Your nails drag across the fabric and he lets out a breathy sound. His muscles twitch as you reach to brush your fingers over his zipper, making sure to press into his cock. His hips jerk upward at the barest hint of stimulation and you grin.

“It’s no elevator,” you tease. “But will this do?” 

“Fucking anywhere will do.” 

Seungcheol has always been sensitive. He’s easy to rile, cock already firm by the time you’re undoing his belt and he’s helping you pull his dress pants down his thighs. You eye the dark patch in his briefs, proud that with just a little bit of kissing and some light touching he’s already leaking at the tip.

Sitting high on your knees, you lean forward, tongue pressing wetly to the tip of his cock through the fabric. A hand shoots to the back of your head, his fingers gripping you firmly as you laugh, tongue still pressed to him and soaking through his briefs.

“Don’t you dare tease me tonight,” he warns, voice shaky. “That is not wifey behavior.” 

You remove your tongue, pouting and moving to press a kiss to his thigh. “You never let me tease you.” 

“I’m not patient.” Your teeth scrape the softness of his flesh and his legs twitch, knees knocking your shoulder. “Baby, I am so serious.”

Biting your bottom lip to hide a smile, you give in. You know with certainty he’d let you drag this out if you really wanted to. Seungcheol is impatient and greedy and demanding, but he also lets you do what you want when it comes down to it. 

Instead of testing his grace, you peel his briefs down, freeing his cock. Your mouth waters at his thick length, your hand automatically reaching up to grab him. You swipe your thumb through the precum gathered, using it to slide down the full length of his shaft.

Seungcheol’s hips buck. You grip him properly, working him slowly as you shuffle closer on your knees. They already hurt, hotel carpet digging into them but you ignore it in favor of watching the way his fingers slowly undo the button of his shirt, needing to shuck the fabric off. 

“You’re pretty,” you note absently. His stomach flexes when he sits up to slide his shirt off of his shoulders. He looks down at you, pupils dilated. “Very, very pretty.” 

“You’re a work of art yourself.”

Instead of laying back down flat, he leans back on his palms, letting his head fall back. Seungcheol shuts his eyes, face tilted up at the ceiling as though in prayer. “Feels good.”

Humming happily, you lean forward and slowly run the flat of your tongue up the base of his shaft. That draws a low moan out of him, his chest rising and falling as he pants. You’re fascinated by his reactions, watching his face and body language carefully as you swirl your tongue around the crown of his cock.

He’s responsive, fingers digging into the sheets in an effort not to grab your head and take control. He’s testing his patience, letting you bring him into the wet heat of your mouth at your pace, sucking lazily. 

“Fuck,” he groans. You hum around him and he shakes his head, shivering. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Good you think, setting a proper place as you swallow him down, letting your spit pool to help make the glide easier. It’s messy and wet, just the way Seungcheol likes it, his moans backtracking the slick sounds coming from your mouth.

What you can’t fit in your mouth properly, you cover with your hand, squeezing periodically as you stroke upward, meeting your stretched lips. 

“God,” Seungcheol whispers. “You know how to suck cock.”

Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you grin, feeling the sting in your mouth from the stretch. Your lips are cum and spit-slicked, sticky as you continue to stroke him. 

“Thanks,” you laugh. “I heard I’m wifey material.”

“Fucking, shit, yeah a little bit. Fuckkkk, mouth please.” 

You comply, sucking him back into your mouth. He’s putty underneath you, hips twitching off the bed a little as soft sounds drip from his mouth. You watch, totally hypnotized by the way he moved, the way his hairline gets a little sweaty as he nods, encouraging you. 

Biting his lip, he lifts a hand from the bed to grab at you, pulling you off of him. “Come here,” he growls, opening his. 

Seungcheol pulls you to him, not caring that your mouth is a mess. His tongue delves in, exploring the mixed taste of champagne and precum, hands pulling at your dress to peel it off of you. 

“Let me sit against the headboard,” he pants, breaking the kiss to scoot backward. You peel your underwear off and toss them, following him across the mattress as he settles. He pats his lap and reaches for you. “Come here, baby.” 

You settle into his lap again, mouth melding to his. His hands explore you, gripping your ass, squeezing your waist, running up your front to pinch at your nipples. You moan into his mouth, carding your fingers in his hair and pulling at the stimulation, your head tilting back a little.

He takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your throat, biting sharply and soothing the sting with his tongue. Sinking a little lower, you feel your pussy brush against his cock and you sigh, gently rolling your hips to slide your sticky folds up his shaft. 

Seungcheol groans against you, mouth feverish against your skin. He maps your throat, kissing and biting his way to your chest, where he steals a pert nipple into his mouth to give a harsh suck. You squeal and he grins, plucking at your sensitive bud with his teeth. 

Holding onto him, you let him lavish attention to your tits the way he wants, hands squeezing, tongue flicking. It feels good. Aflame, you continue to roll your hips shallowly in his waist, just giving the barest of stimulation to you both.

A hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your swelling clit, pressing against it. You whine loudly, fighting off a violent shiver. He grins where he has your breast in his mouth, sucking generously as he lazily circles your clit with his fingers. 

“Cheol,” you whisper-whine. “You said no teasing.”

“I said no teasing me.” His fingers slide backward and dip into your entrance teasingly. You clench around nothing, aching for him to do something. “Flustered, huh?” 

“Please give me something.”

He presses his lips against the side of your jaw, grinning. “Fine.” He sinks a single finger into you and you sigh in immediate relief. It isn’t enough but it’s something, your hips rocking to take him in deeper. “Better?”

“I can take more.” 

“Of course you can.” He pushes in another finger, the stretch so good. “You’re my girl. You can take what I give you.”

Dropping your head to his shoulder, you nod. You hide your face in his flushed skin, riding his fingers as he slowly slides them home, working you gently. They press against your sensitive spot and you curse, gripping him a little tighter. 

Impatient and needing more, you grind yourself forward, fucking his hand properly. He laughs, letting you take what you need, cupping you fully so the heel of his palm grinds into your clit. Your movements are frenzied, driven by the desire for him, the feeling curling inside you. 

“Just like that,” he encourages. “Fuck yourself on my fingers just like that.” 

You do, thighs aching and body shaking. The sheets stick to your legs as you work yourself up, sweaty palms sliding against Seungcheol’s shoulders. He whispers in your ear, voice low and scratchy, adding to the building mania inside of you. 

“Shit,” you hiss, feeling the tightness in your stomach start to boil over. 

“Come on, come around my fingers. You got it.” 

His gentle voice pushes you over all the way and you clench around his fingers, coming undone. Your hips stop moving and your legs squeeze around his as you seize up. Seungcheol is having none of it, taking the lead to drive his fingers up into you as you flutter around him.

“Oh,” you gasp as he finer fucks you through the rest of your orgasm, sucking at a tender spot on your neck until you’re trembling and a mess. “Okay, okay, okay.” 

Seungcheol takes it easy on you, pulling his fingers from between your legs with a slick noise. You heave against him, catching your breath while he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks obnoxiously. 

“Mmm.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He smacks your ass and you squeak. “Ride my cock like that?” 

Huffing, you extend to your full height on your knees. He grabs the base of his shaft, eyes fixed on the mess between your legs as you sink down slowly. His tip breaches you, both of you letting out a sound as you keep going, holding your breath as he stretches you open.

Seungcheol taps your waist. “Breathe.” 

You do, inhaling a breath as you nestle in his lap, seated fully, clenching around him. “Thanks.”

“Mhmm.” 

Seungcheol’s hands move up your sides, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. This time, you know the look in his eye is real. His gaze is covetous, looking at you like you’re his because you are. 

You catch his hands with yours, linking your finger and squeezing. He smiles, looking up at you with dark locks of hair in his face. You smile back, starting to roll your hips, using his hands to steady yourself.

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. The cool air of the hotel room brushes across your back, making you shiver. The mattress dips under your movement, your thighs flexing to keep your balance steady, Seungcheol’s grip on you helping. 

“You’re so perfect,” Seungcheol mutters, using your linked hands to pull you toward him. Your hands slip from him, going to the headboard to help lift you instead. His grip finds your waist, aiding in your movement while his mouth finds your breasts. “God these tits.” 

An ache settles in your thighs but you ignore it, chasing an orgasm. You tremble in his hold, breath punching out of you as he mumbles your name, watching you with fucked out eyes and lips parted, like you’re giving him everything he ever wanted.

You kind of feel that way. The way he looks at you isn’t that different from before, but now you’re confident in it, realizing that everything with Seungcheol felt too intimate because it was. Casual was never the right name for it, neither of you having any idea how to really be no strings attached. 

“My fucking legs hurt,” you admit, panting. “Can you take over?” 

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol surges forward, knocking you backward onto the bed. You laugh, bouncing a little as he pulls out and helps maneuver you. “Turn around for me.” 

With shaking arms, you follow his instruction. The sheets cling to you as you roll, making you huff and swat at them. He chuckles, peeling them away from your sweaty skin while you settle on your stomach, arching your ass a little. 

He palms your left cheek, groaning and dragging his blunt nails down the curve to your hip where he grabs you. “Unreal,” he whispers, to either you or himself. 

You gasp when he thrusts pack in, punching the air from your lungs as he sets a sharp pace. You jostle on the bed, grabbing the sheets and knotting your hands in them to keep you in place, a stream of whimpers leaving you. 

A hand slips up your spine, pressing flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down further into the bed. You gasp and nod, Seungcheol taking it as a sign to put more weight into it, angling his hips so he’s fucking down into you. 

It’s hard to breathe, the dizziness taking over as your skin starts to turn to static, orgasm so close that you can feel the buzz between your legs. He keeps going like that, pinning you hard to the bed as his hips crash into yours. 

His name leaves your mouth in a cry as you squeeze around him, letting loose. He curses, picking up his pace, ignoring the wet squelch as he does, palm pressing you harder into the bed as you come. 

You think you might disintegrate, unable to do anything but make broken sounds as he chases his orgasm. Just when you think you might not get another breath, he comes, the pressure on your back lifting a little. You gasp for air, feeling the room tilt as his thrusts slow, becoming gentle. 

Seungcheol’s hands are soothing on your back, fingers dancing up and down your spine, delicate. He’s muttering something to you but you can’t hear him, the pounding of your heart far too loud, pulse rattling in your ears. 

When his hips are still, his hands keep moving. He leans over you, careful not to put his weight on you, mouth kissing across your shoulders. Your cheek is pressed flat against the sheet as you pant, coming down from a fever pitch. 

“You okay if I get up and get you water?” the question is whispered across your cheek, where Seungcheol presses a tender kiss. You nod and he kisses you again before peeling away from you. 

Laying in the bed, you drift, listening to him shuffle around to the kitchen. You’re sleepy but more aware now. When the bed dips again, you crack your eye open, watching as he navigates carefully on his knees, two glasses of water in hand. 

“Can you sit up or do you need help?” You shake your head and muster the strength you have left to sit up. Your muscles spasm as you do, a groan leaving your mouth as the room spins from the change in perspective. “You okay?”

“Thirsty,” you rasp, reaching for the glass he offers. Gulping down the cool water, you’re aware of his eyes on you, watching you drain the glass as he sips his. “Thank you.”

He takes the empty glass and kisses your lips. “Mhmm. Need more?”

“No, I’m good. I just need to sleep for five hundred years, no big deal.” 

“Damn, five hundred goes crazy. Do you think we’ll have flying cars by then?” 

Seungcheol puts both glasses on the nightstand and peels back the covers of the bed. He slips under them, patting the spot next to him. You crawl over, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. He laughs at you and you scowl, but manage to clamber in next to him, warm beneath the blankets and tucked into his chest.

“Yes, definitely. And like giant sexy holograms advertising porn, probably.”

“That’s the first thing you think of in the future? Porn?”

“Listen,” you huff, laying your head against his chest and closing your eyes. “I’m still a little champagne buzzed and you just fucked me until I couldn’t breathe for a while. Cut me slack.” 

“Sure thing, wifey.” 

“Ugh. Is that our thing now?” 

“Mhmm. Everything pre-relationship has henceforth been replaced with the relationship-only era. Pretend you have amnesia.” 

A huff of laughter leaves you. “Sure thing.” 

“I mean I feel like I have amnesia.” You give him a questioning look. He’s contemplative, staring with unseeing eyes as he plays with your fingers. “I had an entire life and habits before you, and I swear it’s like sometimes my memory actually starts with that first night at the bar.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re just around a lot and I like to think it’s always been that way. And I’m kind of sorry for taking so long to admit nothing about this was casual for me.” 

You smile. “Wasn’t for me either.” 

“Good.” He snuggles into you, settling in silence for a few moments. “Thanks for letting me win pool that first night.” 

“I did not let you win that game, oh my god.” 

“Just admit it! You wanted to taste my goodies and you let me win.” 

“I’m gonna give you some damn amnesia,” you mutter, but grin as he hugs you tight.

“Sure thing, wifey. Sure thing.” 

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[dirtyyoungthingg]

its been a long day. between school and extracurriculars, i am exhausted and stressed. i need a release. bad.

what better way to relieve my stress than fucking myself silly?

i walk into my bedroom, already smiling thanks to the plan my sweet little brain came up with. my smile drops when i realize you're sitting on my bed.

next to my toys.

"d-dad...--"

"what the fuck are these, hm?" you gesture to the two toys on the bed. i immediately shrink into myself, embarrassed.

"...dunno...."

"dont play dumb with me." you stand and grab a fistful of my hair, bringing my gaze up to meet yours. you glance back over at the toys. "do you even know how to use those?" nervously, i nod.

"i-i'm a big girl."

you can't help but smile a little. "yeah?" you throw me down onto the bed. "show dad. let me see you be a big girl, and maybe i'll let you keep these." i scramble onto my back, my heart pounding in my ears as i try to wrap my brain around whats happening.

my dad wants to watch me fuck myself.... my thighs squeeze together as you settle onto the foot of the bed. you tut at me and place your hands on my knees.

"don't be shy now. its nothing i havent seen before." your mind flashes back to our special bathtimes. how you loved catching glimpses of my sweet little pussy underneath the bubbles. how you'd use your special soap on me, as long as i didnt tell anyone.

"but dad--"

you spread my legs open suddenly, my skirt raising to show off my printed pink panties. "shut the fuck up. take those off." my face is flushed as i comply, sliding out of my panties. you grab them from me and bring them to your nose. "god... you always smell so good." i shiver at the cold air hitting my wet cunt. you set the panties down and reach to rub your thumb lightly against my sweet little pussy lips. your other hand moves to grab the first toy, a small bullet vibrator. you smile at it for a moment. "where'd you get this guy, huh?"

"th-the mall... one of the stores sells stuff like that in the back..." you turn it on, and a small but consistent buzzing sound fills the air. you raise your eyebrows as you click it back off.

"not bad." you press it into my hands. "go on. show me how you use it."

i feel dizzy, nervous. this is wrong, you shouldnt be making me do this. and yet, i'm so wet, and i was planning on playing with myself anyway... maybe its not so bad that dad's here.... i bite my lower lip as i turn the small vibe back on and begin to run it over my little pussy lips. a breath catches in my throat when i brush over my swollen clit. you take another deep breath from my panties as you watch, palming yourself through your pants. i press the vibe to my clit as i watch. "g-god... dad...."

"thaaaaat's right baby. just like that." you unbuckle your belt and pull your cock out, wrapping the soft pink fabric of my panties around the length of it as you begin to pump your cock with your fist. the sight is making me lightheaded with lust. i squirm as the vibrator presses harder onto my clit, letting out a moan. "good girl..."

you glance over at the other toy, a sizable dildo. you grab it with your other hand and look down at my glistening cunt. so small and sweet... "...can you even fit this in that sweet little hole, baby?"

i sheepishly look away, shaking my head no. "so-sometimes if i try i can get it halfway in, but it really hurts..." you can't help but laugh a little.

"you just need daddy's help, baby." you grab the vibrator and click it off. i can't help but whimper a little and squirm at the lack of touch. you smile. "turn over, raise that cute little ass up for me." i comply, rolling over onto my stomach and putting my ass up in the air. my skirt from school is still on, and you have to slide it up so you can get to my bare ass. yet another reminder that i'm your daughter, your baby... you shouldn't be doing this... and yet you continue.

you use the head of the dildo and lazily drag it over my opening, humming softly as you see the wetness that collects on the toy. "you're so wet... i'm sure we could fit this in if we tried. you're a big girl, right? thats why you have these toys?" i nod, too flustered to really speak.

"i-i'm a big girl..."

"that's right baby. you're a big girl. and that's why you're gonna take all of this, deep inside your sweet little kiddo cunt." you press the toy into me, slowly, working it in and out of my pussy bit by bit. my eyes screw shut as i whine. i'm still just so tight, so small... you bite your lower lip in concentration as you press the dildo even further inside me suddenly. i gasp and try to squirm away. it's too much, too deep...! i am met with a swift slap on my ass that makes me yelp and causes tears to spring from my eyes.

"ah-ah. that's enough of that, young lady." your tone is gruff, and makes me shudder inwardly. you manhandle me back into the proper position. "you wanted to be a big girl. owning these toys, fucking yourself with them. acting like such a whore. you're lucky this is how i'm choosing to correct this behavior." you smack the other cheek to punctuate your point. "i could've just thrown you down, raped you right here." you begin to thrust the dildo in and out of my cunt quickly, ignoring my pleas for you to stop. "coulda just taken everything ive ever wanted. your mouth, your pussy, your ass..."

i'm sobbing at this point as you relentlessly fuck me with the toy. "coulda treated you like the whore you are. traipsing around with those little skirts, those tiny tops that leave nothing to your father's imagination, much less anyone elses." you've driven the toy all the way into me at this point. i'm crying, my brain overloaded from pain and pleasure.

"t-too m-much--! p-please, stop!"

"shut the fuck up." you use your free hand to press my face into the pillows. "god, do you ever stop talking?" the toys pace is too much. you notice how much i'm clenching around it. "and look at that. you're close. you can't be having that bad of a time if you're that close to cumming while your dad plays with you how he sees fit." my cries are muffled by the pillows as i beg you over and over to stop, please god stop, it's too much.

"no, baby. i'm not gonna stop. not until you cum all over your special big girl toy for daddy. c'mon, i know you want to. you know you want to. cum for me. cum for dad."

and just like that, the dizzying feeling reaches its peak. i cum with the toy deep inside me, my sweet cries ringing out as i throw my head back. you slow your movements down until you stop.

"that's my girl." you slide the dildo out of my cunt. "i knew you could do it. and look at that! you took the whole thing! such a big girl for daddy, such a good girl."

i'm too much of a dazed mess to fight you off as you slide your pants down and position yourself over me. you line your cock up with my twitching cunt, humming softly.

"now i get to show you that you don't need those silly toys. all a girl needs is her father."

[lightseoul]

a/n. once again, i have been inspired by a random instagram reel. i didn't even watch it, really—i just saw the keyword and was immediately spurred into writing this. enjoy <3 (0.9k)

you feel his gaze on you before you even think of meeting it.

“what,” you state more than ask when he doesn’t let up after a minute, not bothering to look up from the book you’re reading.

a scoff resounds from his direction. then: “too lazy to even move your shitty eyes?”

“don’t have to,” you retort as you finally close the paperback, shifting in your bed to regard him. “you’re boring holes into my face with all that staring.”

from where he’s seated at your dining table, bakugou grumbles, although he doesn’t deny the allegations. your face softens when you realize belatedly that he’s being awfully quiet—a jarring juxtaposition to his usual brashness.

something’s up.

but you know better than to pry it from him.

you mentally sigh. the roundabout way it is.

“what, am i extra pretty today?” you joke out of your ass, and that catches him off guard because he chokes on his own spit. that wasn’t part of the plan but you can’t help it—you laugh as he coughs his lungs out, somehow managing to throw in a curse or two in between rasps.

“shitty fucking—” he hacks some more, and when he finally recovers: “i don’t know why i fucking put up with you.”

you shrug, not at all hurt by the otherwise scathing statement. he’s said that to you too many times to count and yet, he’s still here. hanging out with you in your apartment on a friday night, no less.

you don’t point out any of that, though, confident that said knowledge is true enough for the both of you to leave it unspoken. so instead, you continue down the jesting route. “you wouldn’t know how to talk to girls without me, that’s why.”

“fuck off,” he tosses without missing a beat. “i can get the fuck by without your shitty ass guidance.”

that makes you grin, because no, he definitely can’t. how can he when he refuses to do the very first step? as in, choose a girl to talk to?

you know, someone who isn’t you.

his reluctant (best) friend.

and as if he read your mind, he shoots you a pointed look. “and i told you,” he hisses, “you use up all my fuckin’ tolerance. can’t have another girl around because you drive me crazy enough.”

“thanks, kats. i love you, too.”

“whatever,” he answers petulantly as he looks away, although you catch wind of the faint tinge of pink spreading across his cheeks like it always does when you shower him with affection—to his chagrin.

“so…” you start when neither of you says anything for a moment, “am i extra pretty today? or do you wanna share, i don’t know, something.”

“if i spit it out, will you fucking stop badgering me about how you look? you haven’t even showered today, for fuck’s sake.”

a pillow is flung across the room before you can think against it.

“wha—” he gets out instinctively before dodging it with ease. you roll your eyes as he flashes you a victorious smirk. of course. of all the jobs he could have in the world, he had to be a pro-hero and have the signature pro-hero reflexes.

his countenance then morphs as he stares at you expectantly, waiting for an answer, and you have to bite back the fuck you that’s dangling at the tip of your tongue. instead, you give him a curt nod, feigning nonchalance to further coax him into spilling whatever’s in his mind.

“go on,” you press when he doesn’t follow it up immediately after.

“i’m getting to it, alright? jesus.”

a pause.

then, another.

and when you’re finally convinced he’s just playing with you and won’t reveal whatever secret he’s got hidden behind the vault he calls his lips, he says it.

“i’m getting a vasectomy.”

you blink at him.

that was not what you were expecting.

“wh—what?”

you can only watch him in utter bewilderment as he flushes, covering up his fluster with a glare. “you heard me.”

“but, kats,” you begin, not knowing how to say the next bit, “…you’re a virgin. and you’ve never been with anyone romantically.”

the pink from earlier instantly deepens into a scarlet. “so what, hah? you’re the one to talk!”

“no, no,” you manage to respond, slowly shaking your head. you have no idea what’s happening. “that wasn’t meant to be a roast. like, at all. it’s just…why?”

bakugou doesn’t answer right away, instead choosing to press his lips into a thin line.

“you said it yourself, didn’t you?” he says after a while, voice uncharacteristically hushed, as if he doesn’t want you to hear him. you lean in ever so minutely, straining to listen from a few feet away.

“said wait?” you ask, matching the stillness of his tone.

“that birth control fucks you up.”

at that, you barely manage to school your shock into a neutral expression, although it’s definitely your heart that’s suddenly hammering wildly against your chest at his admission. you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. his gaze is dizzyingly penetrating as you struggle to get your words out, until you finally manage a warbled “y-yeah.”

he probably meant that birth control fucks you—women—up, and not you you.

yeah, that’s definitely it.

with this new strand of knowledge, you’re able to muster a genuine smile his way. “that’s very thoughtful of you, kats.”

and just because you like to be sure of things, you throw in the next thing for good measure.

“she’ll be very lucky to have you.”

silence.

“hah?!”

(the keyword was vasectomy lol) (petition for more birth control methods for men)

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra

[moonlightwritingf1]

First Time | LN4

❤︎ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando finds out Y/N is a virgin.

❤︎ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❤︎ word count ━━━━━━━ 5.3k

❤︎ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, unprotected sex, p in v, oral sex (f receiving)

Based on this request.

Friday night settled over London with a quiet hush, the city lights flickering in the distance and the occasional sound of cars passing below Y/n’s apartment building. Although the night was still and cool, a charged warmth filled the cozy living room. She sat on the edge of her couch, legs tucked beneath her, trying to focus on the movie playing on the TV screen. But it was impossible. Not when Lando Norris was sitting just inches away from her, his presence like a magnet pulling at every nerve in her body.

It had been two months since they’d officially started dating, and yet, the tension between them still crackled like a live wire. Every glance, every brush of skin, every shared laugh—it all felt charged with something unspoken. Something waiting to burst free.

Lando leaned back into the cushions, one arm casually draped behind her. His fingers traced lazy patterns along the fabric of the couch, dangerously close to brushing against her shoulder. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. It made her stomach twist in the best possible way.

Lando studied Y/N’s features in silence, his gaze lingering as if he were trying to decipher a puzzle. He noticed the subtle tension around her eyes, the delicate way her lashes fluttered as she blinked, and the gentle parting of her lips with each soft breath. The slight flush on her cheeks hinted at something more—nerves, maybe, or a thought she wasn’t sharing.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle, as if afraid to break whatever spell she seemed to be under. “You doing okay? You seem a little distracted.” 

Y/n swallowed. “I’m fine,” she replied quickly. She noticed her own voice sounded defensive. “Just… I was thinking about work. It was a long week.”

He nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I know the feeling. Meetings, calls, deadlines… not as glamorous as I used to think a normal nine-to-five would be.” A teasing spark lit his eyes. “At least you’re off the clock now,” he added, his lips curving into a soft smile.

Y/n found herself smiling despite her nerves. There was something about his tone—soft and playful at once—that disarmed her. This was why she had let him in, despite all her reservations. His earnestness, the puppy-like devotion in his gaze. He was so unlike the rumors—so unlike how she once imagined him to be.

She stood up abruptly, the need to put a little distance between them overwhelming her for a moment. “Want some tea? I can put the kettle on,” she offered, forcing herself to sound casual.

A small frown tugged at Lando’s brows, but he quickly covered it with a smile. “Sure, I’d love some.”

While she busied herself in the kitchen, Lando took a moment to look around her apartment. It was modest—comfortable and intimate, with personal touches here and there: books carefully arranged on a shelf, a photograph of her parents near the TV, soft throw blankets on the sofa. He couldn’t help picturing how often she might curl up under those blankets, reading a novel after a long day. He yearned to be there during those quiet moments, to share them with her, to make her life a little less lonely.

The clink of the kettle switching off caught his attention. Y/n returned shortly, two mugs of steaming tea in hand. She handed one to him and then sat back down on the couch, leaving only a cushion’s width of space between them. The delicate scent of chamomile filled the air.

“Thank you,” he murmured, taking a slow sip. “You’re too good to me.”

“Trust me,” she said with a small laugh, “I’m not. You just make it so easy to want to do something for you, seeing as you’re always doing things for me.”

Y/n’s mind wandered briefly to the memory of him sending her all those gifts—flowers, perfumes, expensive clothes that made her squeak in shock when she saw the price tags. She had been torn between excitement and embarrassment, but also a bit of suspicion. There was this question that kept haunting her: Could Lando be serious? She needed more than sweet gestures and pretty words. She needed true depth, true commitment. And if he wasn’t that kind of man, she’d rather know now than be hurt later.

Lando watched her expression shift, as if lost in thought. Ever perceptive, he set his mug down. “Y/n,” he said, voice quieter this time, “I can see it in your eyes that something’s bothering you. Is it us… or something else?”

She offered him a tentative smile. “I’m just… still adjusting to us, I think. It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

He couldn’t hide the relief that seemed to soften his features. “I understand,” he said, reaching out and gingerly placing a hand on her knee. “I know I might come on strong, but you have to believe me—I’m in this. No matter what.”

She placed her hand over his. His words chipped away at some of her armor, and she felt a stirring of warmth that had little to do with the tea. “Thank you,” she whispered, letting her thumb brush over his knuckles.

Time felt suspended. The city noises outside turned into nothing but a faint backdrop. In the hush of her living room, the only sounds were their breath, their quiet laughter, and the hum of electricity in the background.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to lighter topics: a fun memory from Lando’s last race weekend in Europe, a comedic mishap at Y/n’s office that had everyone trying to fix a computer glitch that turned out to be user error. The atmosphere grew playful again, but a current of tension remained, rolling through the space between them like a gathering storm.

They inched closer until their shoulders touched. Lando placed a finger beneath her chin, guiding her gaze to meet his. His voice was a whisper in the stillness. “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

Y/n’s lips parted, a bashful chuckle escaping her. “You’re just saying that.”

“No,” he murmured, leaning in, close enough to brush her ear with his breath, “I’m not.”

And then he kissed her. Gentle at first, almost reverent, as if he were savoring the feel of her lips. She responded softly, her heart fluttering. The warmth of his mouth against hers turned every cell in her body alive.

His hands drifted from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer so that no space remained between them. She could feel his heartbeat thrumming against her own. Every time their lips parted, he whispered her name, as though it were a plea and a prayer all at once.

The kiss deepened. His hand went up, tangling in her hair, and a soft moan she couldn’t restrain slipped from her lips. Sensations flooded her: his warmth, his scent—a mix of clean soap and the faintest cologne—his unwavering focus on her and only her.

It wasn’t long before the passion of their kisses caused them both to shift. Lando’s palm skated gently over her waist and up toward her ribs. His lips traveled along her jawline, down her neck, tasting the soft skin there. She clutched at the fabric of his hoodie, eyelids fluttering shut.

The moment felt too perfect, too intense. A fierce desire blossomed in her chest, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She could feel Lando’s heart racing, or maybe it was her own.

His mouth found hers again, deeper, hungrier this time. When she felt his right hand cup her breast over her sweater, an unexpected jolt of panic mingled with excitement. The swirl of emotions—desire, fear, anticipation—was suddenly overwhelming.

She let out a quiet gasp and quickly placed her hand over his, stopping him in the motion. It wasn’t intentional, the way her body stiffened, the way her breath caught in her throat. Instantly, Lando pulled back, eyes wide and full of concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice low and rough from the heat of the moment. “Did…did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Y/n drew in a shaky breath, her cheeks burning, unsure how to explain. She felt her entire face glow with a complex mix of longing and worry. “Lando…” she began, biting her lower lip. She slid her hand into his for a moment, a silent reassurance that she wasn’t rejecting him, but the intensity. “I just…maybe we’re moving too fast right now.”

He nodded, pulling away a little more to give her space. “It’s okay,” he whispered, gently brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek. “We can slow down, I promise. I don’t ever want you to feel rushed.”

She looked down, her hands twisting in her lap. A fresh wave of nerves welled up in her chest—but this time it wasn’t just about caution, it was about her own decision, a burgeoning sense that maybe she was ready to take this leap with him. She’d been holding onto her secret for so long that it almost felt easier to keep the status quo. Yet tonight, something had shifted inside her. She had been convincing herself that her wariness was purely about trust, about not wanting to rush. But if she was honest with herself—truly honest—she wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted anyone.

“There’s… actually something else,” she said in a voice so soft he had to lean in to hear her.

His eyes filled with anxiety. “Talk to me, love. Please.”

She swallowed. “I’m…still a virgin.”

For a moment, the air left the room. Lando stared at her, silently processing, a flicker of genuine shock crossing his face. He exhaled slowly, as though trying to collect his thoughts. “You’re…a virgin?” he repeated quietly, the disbelief evident in his tone. “Wow, I—I’m sorry,” he quickly added, holding up his hands as though in surrender. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just… I’m surprised.”

She nodded stiffly, her gaze fixed on the space between their knees. “I know we’re the same age. I know how it sounds. You probably had…way more experiences than I ever have.” She tensed, voicing the insecurity that had haunted her for months. “I just, I never met someone I trusted enough. Or maybe I was too busy convincing myself I didn’t need it… didn’t need them.”

Lando, still coming to grips with her revelation, took her hand, weaving his fingers through hers. “Hey,” he said softly, “look at me.”

Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. And what she saw wasn’t judgment or disinterest—it was gentleness, acceptance… and maybe even awe.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, voice trembling with raw honesty. “I know that couldn’t have been easy.” He lifted his free hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “And please don’t feel embarrassed about it.”

She let out a shaky breath, tears threatening to form. “I thought you’d think it’s weird,” she confessed. “You’re so… experienced. You’ve had so many women and—”

“Let’s not talk about them,” he interrupted gently. A slight sadness flickered across his face, as though all the old choices he’d made suddenly seemed trivial or even shameful. “They don’t matter. You do.” He swallowed, trying to steady his voice. “And I don’t want you to feel any pressure from me.”

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “Lando, this is… important. But I—” She paused, feeling that swirl of fear in her stomach again. It was now or never. “I think… I’m ready. To be with you,” she admitted, voice barely audible. It was the first time she had truly spoken the words aloud. The admission sent a flush of heat through her entire body.

His eyes widened at her confession. “You’re… ready?” he echoed, as if carefully testing the meaning of those words. Hesitation and tenderness mingled in his expression. “Are you absolutely sure? I don’t want you to do this if you’re not one hundred percent.”

She swallowed, nodding. “I’m sure,” she whispered. A small laugh escaped her, colored by nervousness. “I can’t believe I just said that. But… yes. I—I want this, with you.”

Relief, joy, and something deeper flooded Lando’s features. He reached for her hands again, clasping them between his own. “We don’t have to rush,” he said, though the excitement in his voice was clear. “Just because you’re ready doesn’t mean—”

“It’s my choice,” she interjected softly. “I trust you. And it’s taken me a while to let myself feel this way, but… the truth is, I’m tired of being scared. Of holding onto my hang-ups. I want to share this with you.”

Lando exhaled, a million emotions running across his face—gratitude, longing, protectiveness. “Y/n,” he said, voice thick. “I promise I’ll be gentle. I promise I’ll take care of you.”

She offered him a trembling smile. “I know you will.”

He stood then, carefully pulling her to her feet. They stood close, the fabric of their clothes brushing against each other. Lando dipped his head so that his eyes were level with hers. He could see the mix of courage and trepidation in her gaze.

“Do you want to move to your room?” he asked, the question laced with quiet anticipation.

She nodded, sliding her hand into his. They walked slowly toward the short hallway that led to her bedroom. Every step brought a new spike of adrenaline and longing. The overhead lights were off, leaving only the faint glow from a small lamp on her bedside table. The walls were painted in calming, muted colors—soft grays and blues. The bed itself was made neatly, a plush duvet folded at the end.

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest. A whirlwind of thoughts chased each other through her mind: He’s here, he wants me, I want him, I’m ready, no turning back… Yet overshadowing all of it was a sense of quiet determination. She had chosen him. After all the months of hesitation, she was certain.

When they reached the bedside, she paused, turning to face Lando. The uncertainty still flickered in her eyes, but it didn’t come from doubt in him—rather, it came from the enormity of the moment. Her first time. Something she had guarded for so long.

He noticed. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders and bent to press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. “We’ll go slow,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath tickling her skin.

She nodded, inhaling deeply. “Slow,” she repeated, as if the word itself were a grounding tether.

Carefully, they leaned in for another kiss. This one was warm and tentative, a promise rather than an urgent demand. Lando’s hands drifted to her waist, and Y/n reciprocated, sliding her arms around his neck. The heat between them was more controlled now, more intentional, and yet somehow even more intense. She felt safe—reassured by the unspoken vow in every gentle touch.

After a while, their kisses grew deeper, more confident. He guided her backward until her legs met the edge of the bed. They sank down together, lips never losing contact. Soft gasps and hushed whispers began weaving an intimate tapestry of sound around them. Even the hum of passing cars seemed distant, as though the outside world had fallen away and left them in a private universe.

The warmth of their kisses lingered, slow and deliberate, as Lando hovered above her on the bed. His lips moved from her mouth to her jawline, trailing soft, featherlight kisses down the column of her neck. Every touch was a promise, every sigh a silent reassurance. Y/n’s breath hitched when his tongue flicked against her pulse point, sending shivers cascading down her spine. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding him close, her fingers trembling with anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, his voice low and rough with desire. His lips continued their journey downward, skimming over her collarbone before settling at the hollow of her throat. He paused for a moment, his breath warm against her flushed skin, and then gently tugged at the hem of her sweater.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his eyes locking onto hers, dark with arousal but still filled with tenderness.

She nodded, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lando’s hands slid beneath the fabric, his fingertips brushing against her waist as he slowly lifted the sweater over her head. The cool air kissed her skin, and she shivered—not from the temperature, but from the way he looked at her. His gaze was reverent, almost worshipful, as he took in the sight of her bare torso. His eyes lingered on the curve of her breasts, encased in delicate lace, and a soft groan escaped his lips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, his hands already moving to cup her through her bra. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, drawing a sharp gasp from her. She arched into his touch, her body betraying how much she craved him.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to the slope of her breast, just above the edge of the lace. His kisses were slow and exploratory, each one sending jolts of pleasure radiating through her. When his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra, she reached behind her to help him, her hands shaking slightly. The bra fell away, and his breath caught as he took her in completely.

“Y/n…” he murmured, his voice thick with awe. “You’re stunning.”

His hands caressed her breasts, his palms sliding over the soft flesh before his mouth followed. He captured one nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak while his hand teased the other. Y/n gasped, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure coursed through her. Her moans spilled freely now, no longer restrained, and each one seemed to spur him on. 

“L-Lando,” she whimpered, her nails digging into his shoulders. “That feels… so good.”

He responded by sinking his teeth gently into her nipple, eliciting a sharp cry from her. His hands squeezed her breasts together, his lips moving back and forth between them, leaving her a trembling, moaning mess beneath him. He worshipped her like this, his touch and his words making her feel cherished, adored.

“Lando,” she whimpered, her hands clutching at his shoulders. “Please…”

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her skin. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Please what, love?” he teased, his fingers pinching her nipples lightly, making her gasp again.

She shook her head, unable to form the words. He laughed softly, kissing her lips briefly before sitting back on his heels. His hands drifted to the waistband of her leggings, his thumbs hooking under the elastic. “Can I take these off too?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with anticipation.

She nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. But… take your top off too.”

His grin was irresistible as he tugged his hoodie over his head, revealing the toned planes of his chest. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. He was breathtakingly handsome, his muscles defined but not overly bulky, his skin smooth and warm.

He returned to her, his hands sliding her leggings down her legs slowly, peeling the fabric away inch by inch. She lifted her hips to help him, her heart pounding as she lay before him in nothing but her underwear. His gaze lingered on her, heat and adoration burning in his eyes.

“God, you’re stunning,” he said, his voice rough with want. He knelt between her legs, his hands resting on her thighs. “Are you sure about this? We can stop anytime.”

She nodded, her voice steadier than she expected. “I’m sure.”

Lando leaned down, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. She gasped, her hands gripping the sheets as his lips traveled higher, closer to the apex of her thighs. He nuzzled the thin fabric of her underwear, his breath hot against her already soaked core.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. He kissed her through the fabric, dragging his tongue over her clit in a slow, teasing motion. She cried out, her hips lifting instinctively toward him.

“Lando!” she gasped, her thighs trembling as he continued to tease her, his lips and tongue driving her wild. He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine.

“Patience, baby,” he purred, his hands sliding her underwear down her legs. He tossed them aside, settling back between her thighs. For a moment, he just looked at her, his expression reverent. “Fuck, Y/N. You have such a pretty pussy.”

Her face burned, but before she could say anything, his tongue was on her, lapping at her folds with long, slow strokes. She moaned loudly, her head falling back against the pillows as pleasure shot through her.

Lando devoured her like a man starved, his tongue circling her clit, dipping inside her, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from her body. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, her hands fisting the sheets as she writhed beneath him.

“Oh my God, Lando,” she whimpered, her thighs shaking. “That feels so good…”

He groaned against her, the vibrations making her cry out. He slipped a finger inside her, curling it just right against her walls as his tongue continued its relentless assault. She swore she saw stars, her entire body tensing as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter within her. Just when she thought she might scream, he pulled back, his lips glistening and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Do you really want this?” he asked, his voice ragged. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

She nodded, her eyes glazed with need. “Yes, I’m ready. I want you, Lando. All of you.”

He nodded, his breath hitching as he reached for the waistband of his trousers. In one swift motion, he stripped them off, along with his boxers, leaving himself completely bare. Y/N’s eyes widened as she took him in—hard and flushed, his length straining toward her.

He settled between her legs, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he leaned down to kiss her. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “Tell me if it hurts.”

She nodded, her heart swelling with affection for him. “Okay,” she whispered.

He pressed forward slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable—and mixed with the pain was an overwhelming sense of closeness, of being connected to him in the most intimate way possible.

“You’re incredible,” he breathed, staying still to give her time. “How do you feel?”

“Full,” she admitted with a shaky laugh. “But… good. Really good.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her softly. “You’re doing so well, love,” he murmured against her lips. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Lando began to move, his hips rolling in slow, deliberate thrusts. Each glide of his length inside her was met with a soft gasp from Y/n, her body still adjusting to the unfamiliar fullness. He kept his pace gentle, rhythmic, almost teasing, as if he wanted to savor every second of this moment with her. His eyes never left hers, searching for any sign of discomfort—but all he found was desire, trust, and a growing need.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. “So fucking perfect.”

She whimpered in response, her hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest, where she could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Her own heart raced in tandem, her breath coming in shallow bursts as arousal coiled tighter and tighter in her core. She arched instinctively, her hips rising to meet his next thrust, and Lando groaned low in his throat at the sensation.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice trembling. “It’s… it’s so much.”

He paused, concern flickering across his face. “Too much?” he asked, his tone laced with worry. “Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head quickly, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “No… no, don’t stop. It’s just… overwhelming. In a good way.” Her fingers traced the muscles of his chest, marveling at the way they flexed with every movement. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

The relief in his expression was palpable. He leaned down to kiss her again, his lips slow and sweet, before whispering against her mouth, “Then let me show you how good it can be.”

His thrusts grew slightly firmer, the rhythm steady but unhurried. Y/n’s moans grew louder, each one sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Lando’s cock. He ground into her deeper with every push, angling his hips so that he brushed against a spot inside her that made her gasp and clutch at him desperately.

“There…” she whimpered, her nails lightly scratching his back. “Right there, Lando… please…”

A groan rumbled in his chest as he obeyed, focusing on that spot with relentless precision. Her reactions were intoxicating—every sigh, every shiver, every desperate plea only fueled his own need. But he refused to rush, determined to make this first time unforgettable for her.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes dark with adoration. “Watching you like this… hearing you… it’s driving me insane.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she met his gaze with equal intensity, her eyes clouded with passion and something deeper—something that made his chest ache with emotion.

“Touch me,” she begged softly, her hand sliding down to guide his. “Please…”

Without hesitation, Lando reached between them, his fingers finding her swollen clit with practiced ease. He circled the sensitive nub gently, watching as her entire body jerked in response. Her moans turned into breathless cries, her hips rocking against his hand and his cock in a frenzied rhythm.

“Fuck, Lando—oh god—” she gasped, her back arching off the bed. “I’m… I’m close…”

“Let go, love,” he urged, his voice thick with passion. “Come for me.”

The combination of his hand and his cock pushed her over the edge. She cried out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over her, her inner walls clamping down around him in a vice-like grip. Lando groaned loudly, his thrusts faltering as her climax overwhelmed him. He clenched his jaw, fighting to hold on just a little longer—to give her every last drop of pleasure she deserved.

When her tremors finally subsided, she looked up at him with dazed, unfocused eyes. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. She was utterly breathtaking.

Still buried deep inside her, Lando kissed her again, his lips tender and reverent. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Absolutely fucking incredible.”

Y/n smiled shyly, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulled him closer. “Don’t stop,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “Not yet…”

He nodded, his own arousal still burning hot and urgent, but tempered now by the reverence he felt for her. He resumed his slow, deep thrusts, each one deliberate, each one meant to draw out every ounce of pleasure she could take. Her soft moans filled the room, a melody that made his chest ache with something deeper than desire—something tender, something sacred.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured, his voice rough but laced with adoration. His hands cradled her hips as though she were fragile, precious. “Anything, love… just tell me.”

Her fingers brushed through his hair, her touch featherlight yet electric. “You,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Just you.”

Those two words shattered him. Not in the way of losing control, but in the way of surrender—to her, to this moment, to the depth of what they were sharing. He pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync. His pace quickened, not out of urgency, but out of a need to give her everything he had, to make her feel how much she meant to him.

Her body arched beneath him, her moans growing louder, more desperate. Her hands roamed over his back, not clawing, but caressing, as if she wanted to memorize every inch of him. She clung to him, not out of desperation, but out of a need to be as close as possible, to erase any space between them.

“Y/n…” His voice was strained, but it wasn’t just from the physical strain. It was from the weight of what he felt for her, the intensity of it threatening to spill over. “I’m not gonna last much longer…”

She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as another wave of pleasure began to crest. “Neither—“ she managed, her voice breaking. “Oh god, Lando—“

He felt her tighten around him again, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her cry was raw, unfiltered, and it echoed through the room, a sound that would forever be etched into his memory. Her nails dug into his skin, not to hurt, but to anchor herself as she rode out the blissful aftershocks.

That was all it took for him. With a final, shuddering thrust, he spilled himself inside her, his release tearing through him with a force that left him breathless. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his ragged breaths hot against her skin as he whispered her name over and over, like a prayer, like a vow.

For several long moments, neither of them moved. Their bodies remained tangled together, sweat-slicked and spent, but closer than they’d ever been. Gradually, the haze of pleasure began to fade, replaced by a bone-deep satisfaction and an overwhelming sense of closeness that went beyond the physical.

Lando was the first to stir, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone before pulling back to look at her. His heart swelled at the sight of her—flushed, disheveled, and utterly spent, but smiling up at him with such tenderness that it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice husky but filled with genuine concern. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over her skin.

She laughed quietly, the sound warm and content. Her fingers trailed along his jawline, tracing the curve of his face as though committing it to memory. “Like I just discovered heaven,” she admitted, her smile widening. “And you?”

He grinned, leaning down to capture her lips in a lingering kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes held hers, dark and full of emotion. “Like the luckiest man alive,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity. “Because I get to call you mine.”

Her smile softened, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, her touch achingly gentle. “You already had me,” she whispered. “Long before tonight.”

His throat tightened, and he kissed her again, slower this time, pouring every unspoken word into it. When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet stillness of the room.

“I love you,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. They weren’t planned, but they were true—so true it hurt.

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she just stared at him, her eyes wide and searching. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face, brighter than anything he’d ever seen. “I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice steady despite the tears pooling in her eyes.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as though he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, with her head resting on his chest and her heartbeat echoing his own, he knew—this was where he belonged. With her. Always.

[kareninv]

Drinking coffee in the morning and will answer myself 😁

1. First yes then character and how the person treats me

2. Sure!

3. + 4. + 5. No

6. I don't know?

7. Yes

8. Sweet, gentle, creative, funny and he has to have passion for everything he does so he will have passion for me

9. Funny, tolerant, thinking outside the box

10. Sure, it happened to me 2 times

11. Yes?

12. Not really

13. I can get easily jealous if I'm unsure of the person or don't trust them. If I trust them never

14. I have some tumblr crushes 🖤

15. + 16. On my ears now only and tattoos 5

17. Sometimes

20. Yes

21. + 22. No

23. Yes

24. No

25. I would love to I have a lot of love to give I want to spoil the right person

26. Yes

27. Yes

28. Yes but I don't even know if I were in a relationship with them so idk

29. No

30. I have lipfiller but it looks natural

31. Yes but I was younger

32. Yes

33. + 34. Yes

35. Yes

36. Yes I was in love with my first best girlfriend when I was very young but after that no

37. Yes my ex boyfriend

38. Yes

39. Yes the last guy I had a crush on irl

40. Yeeees I love that

41. No

42. Idk?

43. 1 1/2 years

44. 1 boyfriend where we told us we love eachother

45. Idk?!

46. 1 time

47. 29

48. Thank you for being honest I wish you the best

49. All his personality, the smell, the face everything

50. Hell no

51. Not anymore

52. I think now I "give up" more fast with people because I know when it's one sided or other reasons I don't have time and energy putting love into people who couldn't care less and I'm not mad at them either

53. No

54. Sure

55. I was in love with a guy end of 2023 and there was a moment when he layed in my arms and I slided my hand through his hair and he looked at me I fell in love much more this moment. Everything smell, his face he was perfect

56. Eh.... What?

57. Grow up

58. Authenticity, manners, sweetness, good sex, much love and knowing what you want and act after it

60. The guy I'm seeing tonight is 7 years older

61. How they look at me and behave

62. Loving me

63. Don't start

64. Lying about other women then meeting with them, and sure having sex with them, and also getting nudes from other women

65. Don't start

66. Myself

67. When it just clicks and we can be ourselves and have a good time

68. Hot sexy cute people

69. Ignorance, bad manners, playing it cool, bad smell, unhygenic

70. Everything I already said

71. I don't remember

72. Everything what's good

73. Staying constant and not being flaky

74. I don't really understand this question but maybe I think his style ? It's whatever but I like when he has taste

75. A guy came to a concert I was alone at and I had the best time of my life and really appreciated he came to this day

76. I'm always sweet there is too much (but just as I'm sweet I can get as mad also, but if I reach that state you treated me like garbage)

77. Just leave young girls alone and by that I mean under 25 if you old

78. It's a secret

79. Can't remember

80. Everyday to my mother

81. Tom hardy, paul mescal as "stars". In real life a dj I had a fat crush on lol and the guy I'm dating tonight

82. My brother and mother

83. His name was dominik

84. He didn't like me I guess

85. Yes

vaguely nsfw asks

1. Are looks important in a relationship?

2. Are relationships ever worth it?

3. Are you a virgin?

4. Are you in a relationship?

5. Are you in love?

6. Are you single this year?

7. Can you commit to one person?

8. Describe your crush

9. Describe your perfect mate

10. Do you believe in love at first sight?

11. Do you ever want to get married?

12. Do you forgive betrayal?

13. Do you get jealous easily?

14. Do you have a crush on anyone?

15. Do you have any piercings?

16. Do you have any tattoos?

17. Do you like kissing in public?

20. Do you shower every day?

21. Do you think someone has feelings for you?

22. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?

23. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat?

24. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years?

25. Do you want to be in a relationship this year?

26. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you?

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you?

28. Have you ever been cheated on?

29. Have you ever cheated on someone?

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body?

31. Have you ever cried over a guy/girl?

32. Have you ever experienced unrequited love?

33. Have you ever had sex with a man?

34. Have you ever had sex with a woman?

35. Have you ever kissed someone older than you?

36. Have you ever liked one of your best friends?

37. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?

38. Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to?

39. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?

40. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone?

41. Have you had sex so far this year?

42. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander?

43. How long was your longest relationship?

44. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had?

45. How many people did you kiss in 2012/2013?

46. How many times did you have sex last year?

47. How old are you?

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

49. If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend, what is your favorite thing about him/her?

50. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept?

51. Is there a boy/girl who you would do absolutely everything for?

52. Is there anyone you’ve given up on? Why?

53. Is there someone mad because you’re dating/talking to the person you are?

54. Is there someone you will never forget?

55. Share a relationship story.

56. State 8 facts about your body

57. Things you want to say to an ex

58. What are five ways to win your heart?

59. What do you look like? (Post a picture!)

60. What is the biggest age difference between you and any of your partners?

61. What is the first thing you notice in someone?

62. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you?

63. What is your definition of “having sex”?

64. What is your definition of cheating?

65. What is your favourite foreplay routine?

66. What is your favourite roleplay?

67. What is your idea of the perfect date?

68. What is your sexual orientation?

69. What turns you off?

70. What turns you on?

71. What was your kinkiest wet dream?

72. What words do you like to hear during sex?

73. What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you?

74. What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for?

75. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you?

76. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone?

77. What’s your opinion on age differences in relationships?

78. What’s your dirtiest secret?

79. When was the last time you felt jealous? Why?

80. When was the last time you told someone you loved them?

81. Who are five people you find attractive?

82. Who is the last person you hugged?

83. Who was your first kiss with?

84. Why did your last relationship fail?

85. Would you ever date someone off of the Internet?

[captain-huggy-bear]

A Little Misunderstanding

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' angsty at points, but ends sweet, lots of mutual pining and two idiots not realising the other is also in love with the other, meddling mothers (for the best this time)

Summary: Your parents assume that Quinn, the man you mention over the phone all the time, is in fact your boyfriend. He's very much not, but Quinn thinks its funny to pretend he is...until it gets a little too real and maybe some truths are told and feelings are aired.

Notes: Thank you to the anon who requested fake dating to lovers with Quinn, I had this idea which is a little different from the usual fake dating so I hope its okay and you still like it 😊

Tried to keep it ambiguous as to where the reader originated from so that us UK girlies can relate as well as anyone else not from Vancouver and/or Canada.

Reminder I typically use UK spellings because I'm English so...don't come at me if you wish I spelt it the US away. If I have to read US spellings all the time, you can handle the odd UK spelling

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"When does your flight get in?" You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, picking up a stray sock that had fallen out of your laundry basket as you attempt to tidy your apartment.

"7am your time, sweetheart, remember?" Your mother's voice rings clear down the line, familiar and warm. It's been a while since you saw either of your parents. You having moved all the way to Vancouver, more miles than you could count from your birthplace and hometown around two years ago. You were excited to have them finally able to come out and stay with you for a week, they'd never been to see you, and it had been a while since you'd been able to see your parents, not having time to fly to see them. While you were glad for the move to Vancouver, living in a completely different place away from your family wasn't always the easiest thing in the world. You so often felt like you were having to fend for yourself without much of a support network. Luckily you'd made some good friends in the time you'd been in Van.

"Quinn offered to come with me to pick you and dad up, we'll be there waiting for you so don't worry about getting an Uber." You dropped Quinn's name casually because that's what it was, he was just another part of your existence. Your friend, who admittedly you had a small crush on, but just your friend nonetheless. Just because you thought he was beautiful and wanted to kiss him didn't mean you were allowed to kiss him or that he'd even want to kiss you. He was a friend who happened to be a man and you both happened to be single. This had not changed for two years and wasn't likely to any time soon.

"Oh, Quinn'll be there?" Your mother's voice was suddenly more upbeat, excited. She'd been eager to meet Quinn for months now, you're not sure why she finally took an interest in one of your friends but you can't help but be glad. Quinn had become a massive part of your life, a support network you very much needed when you'd first come to a strange new place all by yourself. He was part of the fabric of your life now, and you knew he'd charm your parents without even thinking about it. It shouldn't matter to you that your parents like your friend, its not like Quinn was your boyfriend, but it did matter to you. You wanted them to like him as much as you did because you wanted him around for the foreseeable future.

"Yeah, I mentioned you were coming to visit the other day and his car is bigger than mine, so he offered to come along, he has to get up early most days anyway so he's not too bothered by it." It helped that Quinn had a couple of days off, but still you were thankful. He could have spent his rare enough free time doing something much more enjoyable than helping you pick your parents up from the airport.

"Your father and I look forward to meeting him, we've heard so much about him, darling!"

There's something about your mother's tone that makes you stop for a second suddenly feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. Maybe it's just how eager she is or maybe it's something else, but there's a little red flag waving in the back of your mind with some small print on that you just can't quite read yet.

"Right...um, look I'll see you tomorrow morning then? I gotta get everything ready for you guys."

"Of course, of course! We love you!"

"Love you too, mum."

"You're sure you don't mind?" You look over at Quinn from the passenger seat, the two of you look exhausted, big bags under your eyes and even bigger hoodies to hide in because a 5am wake up to get to the airport in time was just a little much for both of you. This early in the morning it's still dark and the streetlights do something to Quinn's face that makes him even more handsome than usual, even as he looks like he might fall back asleep at any minute. It doesn't help that his scruff has grown out or that his hair is in those perfect waves he always seems to get even when he's just taken his bucket off.

"I wouldn't have offered if I did, besides the amount of time we spend together isn't it about time I met your parents? You've met mine." He smiles over at you, cheeky, the sort of Quinn most people didn't see. It's silly that it makes your cheeks feel warm, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be flustered by him.

"Your parents are at as many of your games as possible, of course I've met them."

"So are you. Sue me for wanting to meet the parents of one of my best friends."

"I'm your best friend?" You lean your head back on the headrest, tilting slightly to grin at him all silly. Quinn can see it from the corner of his eye and as much as it's ridiculous, that little grin makes you even more beautiful than normal.

"One of." He rolls his eyes at you, partly because of your silliness and partly rolling his eyes at himself. You're his friend. He shouldn't feel this way about you, men can have female friends...he just can't seem to have you as a female friend without wanting to kiss you at any given opportunity. It's becoming difficult, even more so in the early morning when the low light level puts your face in stark contrast and your hoodie, one of his, makes you look so cozy and sweet.

"That's just your way of avoiding admitting how much you love me and need me in your life."

Quinn's cheeks flush bright red, so bright that even the low light can't hide it nor hide the way he bites back a smile at you, eyes fixed on the road and the last few miles to the airport.

"...Shut up."

The silence that fills the car is comfortable, the sort that comes about from spending so much time together. You have friends that aren't Quinn, of course you do, but Quinn had been your first friend in Vancouver. He'd shown you around and made time for you in his incredibly busy schedule. You were often the first person he saw when he came off a roadie and the last person to see him before he left for one. There were nights when you stayed round Quinn's after a game or vice versa. You spent so much time together that you simply coexisted, being around Quinn was as easy as breathing. You rarely argued or disagreed and when you did it was always resolved properly. You simply worked. There wasn't ever much to think about with Quinn. You could just...shut off.

"Thank you, though...seriously." You take a moment, thinking how to word your next few thoughts, your warning as the signs for the airport come into full view, "Just, my mum seems really eager to meet you so...just brace yourself."

"Eager?"

"You know when your parents are excited to meet a new partner?" You think back to the few times you'd introduced a boyfriend to your mum, the excitement that she exuded...it was starting to concern you that she was that excited to just meet your friend. Because that's all Quinn was. Your friend. Not your boyfriend. Your friend, you remind yourself, even as he looks so good smiling over at you with his beard. He'd let it grow out just enough that he looked rugged and mature.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's that sort of excited which is really weird...she normally doesn't' care that much about my friends. Just, sorry, if she's really weird about it?" It's awkward enough talking about, you and Quinn have always stayed firmly platonic, you didn't talk about the fact that people assumed you were dating or even the concept of it. Talking about it felt...it felt like you were opening the curtains up, letting him see in a little too far.

"You didn't tell her we were married or something, did you?"

"Quinn! Shut up!" He laughs so loud that you can't actually be that mad at him, not when he's grinning at you like that, not when he's been so stressed as of late about the performance of his team. Even if it's at your expense.

"What? Just checking! For all I know you could have told her we got married in Vegas during one of my games or something?"

"If I'm telling my mum I'm married to you, it'll be because I'm actually married to you, you idiot." You roll your eyes at him, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to look out the window.

"Oh, so you do want to marry me?" He's joking, but he's not...he's thought about it. There's not a day that Quinn hasn't thought about what it would be like to be yours and you be his, not since he met you...and then promptly managed to land himself so far into the friendzone that he was scared to crawl his way out lest he leave you behind in the process.

"...I hate you."

"No you don't." His voice is singsong in intonation and sweet and he's right because you love him and it hurts...god, it hurts how much you love someone you can't have. Someone you see every day, someone who is so deeply ingrained in your life that removing him would be like carving a hole into your own chest.

You just sit and glare at him, even as a heavy sort of sadness hits, as he pulls up into one of the parking bays for collecting passengers.

It's okay that he's just your friend, you remind yourself as you get out of the car. It's okay because he's the best friend you could ask for, he's here at 6.45 am in the morning to collect your parents from the airport, not because he was asked or because he had to, but because he wanted to. You can live with loving him in silence, so long as you always have him around.

"I think they're over this way, probably, near gate 1?" You're just getting your bearings, trying to figure out roughly where your parents will come out at after they find their things from baggage claim when you hear it.

"My baby!" The squeal of a middle aged woman who hasn't seen her daughter in far too long pierces the air. You barely have time to brace yourself for impact before your mother is wrapping you up in a gigantic hug and pressing as many kisses to your face as possible, you know without a doubt her signature mauve lipstick is smudged all across your skin.

Your father stands behind her, rolling his eyes in amusement but the smile he gives you is no less warm, "Hey there, princess."

"Hi, mum, hi, dad," You pull yourself free from your mother just long enough to get a long awaited hug from your father, big and warm and so familiar that you almost feel like crying. How long has it been since you last hugged your dad? Half a year? Nine months? Longer? You sometimes don't realise how much you miss something until you get it back.

When you turn back around your mother is already pulling Quinn into a hug that he accepts, if a tad awkwardly, his hands patting her on the back like he's not quite sure how hugs work.

She has his face in her hands before you can intervene, overly familiar and friendly as she grins up at him like he's made her day just by existing. "You must be Quinn, Y/N's boyfriend..."

"Oh, he's n-" You're pretty sure your eyes bug out of your head, startled by the suggestion because at no point in the last few years of living in Vancouver had you ever called Quinn your boyfriend. Ever.

You're cut off by Quinn who's grinning at you wickedly over the top of your mother's head like he's just been giving the greatest Christmas present he could ever ask for and in that moment you know...you know that he is going to make your life very difficult with this tiny piece of information.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet, the boyfriend, that's me." God, he wishes it was true. There's nothing more he wants in that moment than to be able to say to your mom that you are 100% his girlfriend, but he can't...he can, however, enjoy the roleplaying while it lasts. He can't really stop himself, not when you look so aghast at your mother calling him your boyfriend, not when he can use this to tease you for at least the next 30 years. He grew up with 2 brothers, sue him for taking advantage of the situation.

"Quinn!"

"What? Am I not allowed to call myself your boyfriend anymore?" He sidles up to you, slipping out from your mother's grip to pull you into his side. His arm rests naturally over your shoulder, yours finding his waist, and it is natural...because you've done this a million times before. The kiss he presses to your hair is new though, different and as much as your mum clearly believes the ruse, you can see your father just looks amused. Something tells you he knows this is all an act, but he finds it enjoyable to watch. Typical. No support from him when you need it most. Dads.

"Oh, she's just grouchy in the mornings, has been ever since she was a baby!" Your mother looks at the two of you with such pride that you're certain her heart actually might break when she finds out Quinn isn't actually your boyfriend. You've never seen her look so happy with your choice in a man before and you're certain she won't be able to cope when you have to inevitably tell her that it was either a) a lie or b) that Quinn just wasn't the guy for you (another lie just to make your life more complicated).

"Mum!"

"Oh don't worry, I know just how grouchy my baby can be in the mornings." This time he presses a kiss to your cheek and when he does, you hiss lowly in his ear, 'I'm going to kill you.' and Quinn can't help but laugh at you, biting his lip at how much fun he's having riling you up.

"Here let me take your bags, Mrs Y/L/N," Quinn's bending down before your mother can even begin to protest, her carry on backpack being slung over his shoulder and pulling up the handle of her suitcase to wheel it behind him.

"Oh, you don't have to, Quinn!"

"I insist." He knows he's making it harder on you, can see the look you give him because he's just going to make your mother fall in love with him. But, even as he enjoys riling you up, he was also raised right and he's not letting your mother carry her own bags.

Your mother hangs back with you while your father and Quinn start walking ahead with the suitcases. She slips her arm through yours walking with you to keep up, as she does so she does a very bad attempt at whispering. The sort of whispering that means you know Quinn can hear every word and is probably enjoying it immensely.

"He's such a gentleman..."

"Yeah, a real gentleman." You mutter sarcastically, watching the way his shoulders rise and fall in a silent laugh that he's no doubt doing his best to swallow down.

"Don't be grumpy, he's just being sweet on you. You should be glad for such a loving boyfriend..." Your mother scolds you before raising her voice back to normal, Quinn and your father slowing down slightly to help keep the four of you together, "So, Quinn, my daughter tells me you're a hockey player?"

"Yeah, you talk about me, baby?" Quinn's grin is wide, and you can't help the warmth that fills your entire face because you can't actually deny it. You talk about Quinn all the time, he's your best friend and whenever your mother phones, you inevitably talk about him. Whether it was a game of his you went to or a coffee place you'd visited together or gala he'd invited you to. Maybe, you talked about him too much? Maybe, it was obvious in the way you talked about him that you loved him? Maybe that's why your mother had made such a large assumption about your relationship status. Maybe this was your fault, why wouldn't she assume you were dating?

"She talks about you all the time. Quinn this, Quinn that...did you know that Quinn did this today and broke this record?"

"Mum..." You groan out, looking to your dad for help but all he does is shrug his shoulders at you, amusement bright in his eyes. Even if he could do something you know he wouldn't because he's clearly enjoying your torture.

Quinn can't help it, the tables seem to reverse. You're embarrassed still, but now he is too, bright red in the face, ears flushed the colour of a fire engine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. All because you talk about him to your parents...you talk about him when he's not around...he feels like a twelve year old, giddy because his crush smiled at him for the first time.

"I play for the NHL."

"Vancouver Canucks, wasn't it?" Your mother asks as the four of you step out into the cold Canadian air, her attention making Quinn squirm and you smile, enjoying the discomfort being swapped around for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm the captain of the team." He smiles at your mother awkwardly as he opens the boot of the car and starts to pile in the suitcases, organising them in just the right way that they fit without hassle.

Your father chimes in as he lifts his own suitcase into the back, Quinn helping him shove it back further, "That's impressive, I used to play field hockey myself, never got out of the amateur league but got a few bruises in my time. You had an injury recently right?"

You still remember phoning your mum to talk about it, at first worried and then over time growing more and more frustrated with how sullen Quinn was being. He'd grown restless from not being able to play hockey and you'd been his distraction, a distraction that had grown fed up with his moping no matter how much you loved him.

"I've had a few this year, most recently my hand." He raises his braced hand, the brace a point of annoyance to him at this point in time. He was itching to be done with it, but put up with it because it meant he could still play hockey at the moment.

"Oh, you shouldn't have been carrying my bag then, Quinn!" Your mother fusses over him, flapping about as if she might have a miracle cure for his hand injury.

"Honestly, it's fine! It looks worse than it is, I promise. I wouldn't get away with it otherwise, this one would kill me." He nods his head at you as he closes the boot, opening one of the backdoors for your mother to slide inside.

"Damn right I'd kill you, I cannot take more days of you moping that you can't play hockey and that you're bored despite my amazing company."

"You know I enjoyed spending time with you, sweetheart...but..."

"But, you can't live without hockey, yeah, I know..."

He follows you round to the passenger side door, opening it for you like a gentleman and letting you slide inside. You find yourself enjoying the attention even as you catch your mother's eye in the rear view mirror, a little smirk reaching her lips as she watches Quinn buckle you in. Something he does from time to time when he's feeling particularly sweet...because he was a good friend.

"So, Quinn, how did you meet our daughter? I'm not sure she ever mentioned it?"

The entire ride home is filled with your mother peppering Quinn with questions, encouraging him to talk more and more about your 'relationship'. Everything from when you first met to the first date you went on (which Quinn told her was the first time he took you ice skating, you were under the impression that that was a friendly family skate event and most certainly not a date).

The conversation lulls while you set your parents up in your spare bedroom, helping them settle themselves and showing them around your apartment. They hadn't ever seen it in person and they spent half the time cooing over your choices, the photos of family and friends on the wall, the ones of you and Quinn, as well as your mother checking your fridge and telling you to buy more vegetables.

It's as you're sitting down to a breakfast of pre-bought croissants and pain au chocolat that your mother restarts her question. This time even more invasive than the first.

"So Quinn, when did you know?"

"Mm? Know what?" Your best friend looks at your mother with furrowed brows, taking a sip of his orange juice and almost choking on it when she proceeds to clarify her question.

"When you loved my daughter."

There's a long beat of silence where your eyes stay fixated on your plate, watching your own hands intently as you spread Nutella inside your croissant, far too focused on that to be anything casual or calm. You're certain you're going to be sick because he doesn't love you but you love him and your poor mother is so oblivious and this...this is going too far, it feels like it's gone too far.

"Expected answer or honest answer?"

"Honest answer."

"The second week I knew her." Your head snaps up with a start only to find Quinn looking directly at you, green eyes crinkling softly at the corners. "She heard that I had been hurt on the ice the night before and she stormed round my apartment with a bunch of food, medicine and a blanket. Spent the whole day looking after me and making me watch 90s movies I hadn't watched growing up. No one outside my family had ever done that for me before...it made me realise that if I wasn't already in love, I would be pretty quick." You almost believe him, the way he looks at you, the way he speaks so softly. Almost.

You look down at your plate, tears welling in your eyes because you know he doesn't mean it. He's spinning a yarn for your mother and it hurts that he would go that far when you both know this is all some ruse he's decided to pull. You swallow hard and take a bite of your croissant, refusing to look at him for the rest of breakfast.

You won't meet his eyes until he goes to leave after breakfast, your parents hanging back so you can say goodbye to your 'boyfriend'.

"Mind if I come over after dinner? We could watch a movie with your parents?"

"Quinn..." You go to challenge him on his behaviour today, but the words won't come out.

"What?"

"Nothing...uh, sure, after dinner?"

"After dinner, baby."

You want to tell him off as he says it, as he presses a kiss to your cheek so your parents can see because you aren't his baby and he's hurting you. He's hurting you without realising it because you so desperately want to be his baby. But, you don't. You just watch him walk away down the corridor of your apartment building and out of sight before getting ready to show your parents around Vancouver for the day.

You try to put the whole thing out of your mind throughout the day, showing your parents the sights of Vancouver, including the arena...but it's hard when they keep bringing Quinn back up and asking about your feelings. They probe you for half the day and it's emotionally exhausting balancing the truth with the half-truth, even more so knowing that they're going to be just as disappointed as you are when they realise your relationship with Quinn is just a sham, a charade, a fake.

Eventually they seem to grow bored of talking about the topic, however, and dinner goes relatively smoothly, you taking them to a nice restaurant Quinn had shown you back in your first couple of months in Vancouver. Even that feels bittersweet though, filled with memories of the two of you dining together. You can't help but feel like the whole issue needs addressing as you get them back home and pop a film on ready for Quinn's arrival.

When he arrives he continues the act as if it isn't one, greeting you at the door with a kiss to the cheek and pulling you down onto the loveseat opposite your parents, curling one arm around your shoulders and urging you to lay against him, your cheek pressed into his chest. In some ways it's familiar, not an act, because you cuddle for movies all time, completely platonically of course, but both of you are touchy feely and it's always been part of your dynamic. In others though? The way he talks to you, the pet names, kisses to your hair, that is all new, all a way to show your parents he's the 'doting boyfriend', even though he's not your boyfriend at all.

Your parents lap it up, every now and then you catch them smiling at each other and then over to the two of you and you can't help but feel heavy with it. With this feeling of unrequited affection. You love Quinn, you've known that for a while now, but it was easy to be around him because you didn't need to address it. You could love him in silence and from afar...you had never considered how hard it would become when what you wanted most was being dangled in front of you like a carrot on a string.

Quinn has a similar dilemma going on in his own head. He's always known he loved you more than a friend, even when you barely knew each other...had he been braver he would have asked for your number for a date that first day, not so that he could show you around a new city as a 'friend'. But, he'd been a coward and since then he'd continued to be. He enjoyed every ounce of affection he got from you, every hug, every cuddle, ever time you held his arm at an event, all while feeling like that had to be enough...now he's had more? He's not sure it'll ever be enough, he's greedy for you. Greedy for your affection, your attention, greedy in the way he wants to keep kissing you, keeping calling you sweet names and greedy for the way you grow bashful. Greedy for more than just being your friend...he's given himself a taste of what life could be like and now he can't forget it.

It's halfway through the movie, your legs slung over Quinn's lap and his fingers carding through the ends of your hair when your parents stand with a groan from the other couch.

"Princess?" You lift your head to look at your father, who's stretching out his back after sitting for so long.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Your mother and I are getting a little tired...we're going to go to bed, if that's alright with you two?"

"Of course, don't let us keep you up." Quinn confirms your own thoughts as well, telling your parents it's not problem at all. It's all so...so domestic.

Your dad presses a kiss to the top of your head, as does your mother, before yourself and Quinn wish them goodnight. You wait until you see the door to the spare room start to close, not waiting for it to do so fully, before turning to Quinn. You pull out of his arms, the missing warmth of you an immediate loss to him, but it has him sitting up straight and taking you seriously.

Your face is sullen, sad, eyebrows pinched, mouth turned down into a frown and he's alarmed to see that your eyes are glassy like you might cry.

"Why on earth would you let my parents think we're dating? Why would you tell my mother you're in love with me?" You're certain you're going to cry, angry, frustrated and sad all in one. Lovesick because it hurts to hear him tell your mother he was in love with you when you know he's not.

"Why not?" He frowns at you, hands reaching out but you keep just out of reach as if touching him is the last thing you want. You've never shied away from Quinn's touch and he recoils, breathing a little heavier out of anxious worry that he's upset you, that he's fucked this up. Maybe you've been uncomfortable with his touch all day? Has he been making you uncomfortable all day? Is he one of those guys?

"Because we're not dating and you're not in love with me, Quinn. My mother is certain we're going to get married and I'll stop being an old spinster! You're getting her hopes up." The unspoken words lay heavy on your tongue, 'you're getting my hopes up', you want to say.

"Who said I didn't love you? Who said I didn't want to marry you?" The look he gives you isn't the cheeky one he's had all day, it's not joking or silly, it's dead serious. He scoots closer to you, but doesn't reach out for you this time. But, Quinn can't help but want to be close to you, to be drawn into your orbit, into your gravity.

"Quinn..."

"What?"

"You're being mean..." Your voice is filled with tears, wet, pathetic sounding and you choke back a sob as a tear falls down your cheek because he's being so mean...he can't dangle that in front of you, everything you've ever wanted, not when he doesn't actually mean it.

He realises in that moment that you don't believe him. You believe he's spent the entire morning and evening telling lies, saying that he loves you when he doesn't, that you're that important to him when you aren't. You believe he's being mean because you don't believe him, that the tears are because you think he's holding this thing, this idea out in front of you, only to snatch it away.

"Look, I said a lot today...but none of it was a lie." He can't help himself this time, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping away that pesky tear that shouldn't have been there in the first place. It's the way you lean into his touch that brings him a sense of confidence, of relief, you wouldn't do that if you didn't want him touching you.

"I know our first date wasn't a date, just a stupid family skate I was too scared to ask you out to as more than just a friend. I wish it had been a date and I wish I had been brave enough from the start to tell you I didn't just want to be your friend."

"Quinn..."

"And I was telling the truth...when your mother asked me when I fell in love with you." He tugs you closer, until your legs are back over his lap and your practically sitting on top of him, arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling you closer. The way he stares up at you is nothing short of reverent.

"Q..."

"The second week we knew each other you came to look after me when no one else did...and I knew...I knew that I was going to love you and that I was stupid for not asking you out in the first place...but I was...I was too scared to say anything. I didn't want to lose my new friend...I thought..." He hesitates, tongue coming out to nervously brush against his bottom lip, capturing your attention like a magpie with a shiny button.

"You thought?" You're whispering, quiet as if to speak any louder might scare him, might disrupt this little bubble you've found yourself in.

"I thought having a tiny bit of you...any bit, was better than having none of you at all." Quinn confesses, shifting you on his lap as your legs fall either side of his hips until you're so close your noses brush.

"Is it?"

"It was...for a bit..." It's self-deprecating, sardonic, like he finds himself ridiculous, foolish.

"And now?"

"And now I've had a taste of what it's like to love you, to be able to kiss you and hold you...call you mine...and now I'm greedy and it's not enough...Baby, it'll never be enough."

"You...you love me?" It's like even after all of this, everything he's said, every tender touch, you still don't quite believe him. It's hard to believe that everything you've ever wanted is sat in the palm of your hand just waiting for you to capture it, to take it. That your feelings, the ones you believed were unrequited for two years, were actually returned all along.

"I love you...and...um, if...if you'll have me, maybe I could be your real boyfriend this time?" His face is bright red, so warm to the touch when you're fingers reach out to trace his cheeks that you're surprised he doesn't combust.

"I'd like that...I...I love you too,"

"So...I'm your boyfriend?" He says it like he doesn't quite believe it, the beauty mark on his cheek moving as he grins up at you giddy like a little kid getting his first bag of sweets.

"You're my boyfriend." You press a kiss to that beauty mark without overthinking it...because you can now, because now it's not a lie when you tell your parents he's your boyfriend, because now you're allowed to kiss him and hold him and tell him how much you love him.

"Fuck...that sounds good."

He can't help but just stare up at you from where you're straddling his lap. The healthy glow to your skin, the soft smile directed down at him, the way you seem to curl into him like you're not close enough even now. God, you're beautiful and you're his...you're finally his and he's yours and...and he can't comprehend that the thing he wanted to happen for so long has finally happened. What had he been scared of all this time? He could have been with you for two years, instead he'd squandered it out of fear...

"Quinn?" Your voice is soft, melodic, so so sweet that almost closes his eyes at the sound.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Kiss me?" You whisper as if it's shameful to ask, as if you've asked for something more sordid than a simple kiss...your first kiss together at that.

"Anything for my girl."

He's gentle in the way he cups your neck and jaw with one large hand, thumb pressing just below your jaw bone as he pulls you in. There's nothing rushed about the way Quinn presses your lips together, the smooth glide of his bottom lip against your top. Even the way his tongue brushes against your lip until you open up for him is slow, steady, adoring. You can't help the way you sigh into him, fingers gliding through dark chocolate strands, eyes closing shut with the sense of home, sense of relief that you find in him.

The two of you lose yourselves in each other, slow kisses, wandering hands, nothing too extreme, but a new found intimacy that you're finally allowed to indulge in before you curl back up together to watch the remainder of the movie. Watch being a loose term for what you're really doing.

"Did you know?" Your father turns his eyes away from the scene outside the spare bedroom, the way you're curled up in Quinn's arms like you were always supposed to be there. Neither of you realising that the spare bedroom door had never fully closed, both your parents eavesdropping like Samwise Gamgee.

"That they weren't actually together, dear?" Your mother looks sly and devious as she looks over at her husband. The face of the woman he loves, but also fears in equal measure.

"Yes."

"Of course I knew...but I figured they could both use a shove in the right direction, I mean, look at them?" Your parents both turn to watch the two of you, the way you curl up together on the couch is the epitome of young love. There's no real watching of a movie happening, instead Quinn's fingers are rubbing circles into your shoulder, while you look up at him lovingly from where you're curled against his chest. Every now and then he dips his head down to press a kiss against your forehead, and each time you giggle, face pressing briefly into his neck. The giddy feeling of a new, fresh love, making film watching the least of your interests.

"They just needed a little push." Both your parents smile at each other even as your father playfully scolds his wife, "You're a meddlesome woman."

"And you love me for it."

"Yes, yes I do."

Perhaps it took a bit of meddling, a fake misunderstanding, but that would be their little secret...at least for now. Your mother was rather looking forward to seeing you squirm in the future as you reveal the truth, that you hadn't actually been dating Quinn as long as you said. Yes, she certainly was happy to help, but she also was still your mother and lying to your mother was certainly not the done thing. A little squirming was good for you sometimes, but first, she'd let you enjoy the fresh bloom of love...and she'd go easy on you.

[enhasntty]

Love on The Line - LHS

pairing: lee heeseung x f!reader summary: At BrightSpark Solutions, your rivalry with the playful Heeseung turns into unexpected sparks during a high-profile project. Between late-night brainstorming, office pranks, and your brother’s matchmaking antics, love starts to bloom in the chaos. warnings: includes kissing, playful flirting, tension, bickering, teasing, playful banter, reader has a younger brother and he calls her "Noona" genre: romance, co-workers to lovers wc: 14.6k

likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!

The fluorescent lights of the BrightSpark Solutions conference room buzzed softly as the clock struck 10 a.m. You sat at the large glass table, fingers laced neatly in front of you, a small stack of notes by your side. The morning coffee rush had left the faint scent of vanilla lattes and caramel macchiatos lingering in the air, but you were too focused to notice. Across the table sat Lee Heeseung, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed smirk playing on his lips, a complete contrast to your poised demeanor.

The weekly team meeting had always been competitive, but today was different. The stakes were higher. Manager Kim had dropped the bombshell just a day earlier—a high-profile client was considering hiring BrightSpark to handle their next major marketing campaign, and the responsibility of landing the deal would likely fall on whoever impressed him the most during today’s meeting.

You weren’t about to let Heeseung, your biggest rival, take that win.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Manager Kim announced, his authoritative voice cutting through the murmurs. He adjusted his glasses, glancing around the room. “As you all know, this potential client could be a game-changer for us. I want to hear your ideas. Impress me.”

You cleared your throat and stood, clutching the edge of your laptop. “I’d like to go first.”

“Of course you would,” Heeseung quipped, leaning forward slightly, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement.

Ignoring him, you clicked on the first slide of your presentation. “My concept focuses on storytelling. This campaign isn’t just about selling a product; it’s about connecting emotionally with the target audience. I’ve outlined a multi-platform strategy to build a narrative that resonates with them.”

You went on to explain your vision, your voice steady and confident. The room was quiet, except for the soft tapping of someone taking notes. Manager Kim nodded occasionally, his expression unreadable.

As you finished your presentation, you glanced briefly at Heeseung. His smirk was gone, replaced with a raised brow and a look of mild interest.

“Thank you,” Manager Kim said as you sat down. “Heeseung, you’re up.”

Heeseung stood with a casual air, pushing his chair back with his foot and sauntering to the front of the room. He didn’t even bother with notes; he simply pulled up his presentation, hands in his pockets as he addressed the room.

“My approach is simple,” he began, his voice smooth and confident. “People don’t want to feel like they’re being sold something, they want to feel involved. This campaign should be interactive, something that makes the audience feel like they’re part of the brand.”

His presentation was polished, and his ideas were bold and innovative. You hated to admit it, but he had a way of commanding attention effortlessly. The way he gestured, his sharp wit, and his subtle confidence was infuriating how good he was at this.

As he wrapped up, he shot you a quick glance, his smirk back in full force. You looked away, frowning slightly.

“Both excellent ideas,” Manager Kim said, his hands clasped in front of him. “But I think this project requires something a little… extra. That’s why I’m assigning both of you to work on it together.”

Your heart sank.

“What?” you blurted, your voice soft but incredulous.

“Sir, with all due respect,” Heeseung began, trying to hide his own surprise.

Manager Kim raised a hand to cut him off. “You’re both BrightSpark’s best. This client is too important to risk on just one perspective. I want both of you on this.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Heeseung, who looked equally displeased.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” Manager Kim added. “I expect results. You’ll have your first joint brainstorming session tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”

Back at your desk, you buried your head in your hands, groaning softly.

“I’m guessing the meeting didn’t go as planned?” Chaewon’s voice came from beside you.

You glanced up to see your best friend leaning against your desk, her auburn hair tied into a short ponytail. She held a cup of coffee in one hand and a knowing smile in the other.

“Manager Kim wants me to work with Heeseung on the campaign,” you muttered.

Chaewon’s eyes widened. “What? Him?” She slid into the empty chair beside you. “This is going to be so entertaining.”

“For who? Because it’s definitely not me,” you grumbled.

“Oh, come on,” Chaewon teased, nudging your shoulder. “It’s not like he’s terrible to look at. And admit it, you secretly like how much attention he gives you.”

Your cheeks flushed. “He does not give me attention. He’s just, ugh, Heeseung!”

Chaewon laughed, clearly enjoying your misery. “You know, the way he argues with you all the time? Classic flirting behavior.”

You shook your head, refusing to let her words get to you. “It’s not flirting. Heeseung just likes to win.”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, clearly unconvinced.

Meanwhile, across the office, Heeseung was slouched at his desk, tossing a stress ball in the air. Jay perched on the edge of the desk, watching him with amusement.

“So,” Jay said, dragging out the word, “you’re working with her now?”

“Don’t remind me,” Heeseung muttered, catching the ball and squeezing it in frustration. “She’s so annoyingly perfect all the time.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Perfect? That’s an interesting word choice.”

“You know what I mean,” Heeseung said quickly. “She’s always so calm, so composed. Like nothing ever rattles her. It’s infuriating.”

Jay smirked. “Right. Infuriating. And the fact that you bring her up in every conversation has nothing to do with the fact that you like her?”

Heeseung scoffed. “I don’t like her. I just…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “She’s… competitive. It’s fun to challenge her, that’s all.”

“Sure, sure,” Jay said, clearly unconvinced.

“Besides,” Heeseung continued, tossing the stress ball back into the air, “she probably hates me.”

Jay laughed. “Hates you? Dude, she wouldn’t argue with you so much if she didn’t care. Trust me, she likes you.”

Heeseung frowned, his mind drifting back to the way you’d looked at him during the meeting—frustrated, sure, but there had been something else in your eyes. He quickly shook the thought away.

As the day dragged on, you tried to focus on your other tasks, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the campaign, and to Heeseung.

How were you supposed to work with him? He was charming, sure, but also insufferable. Every interaction with him felt like a battle, and yet, there was something oddly exhilarating about it.

“Stop overthinking,” you muttered to yourself, pushing the thoughts aside. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, and you needed to be prepared.

The next morning, you arrived at the office earlier than usual, determined to set the tone for your first brainstorming session with Heeseung. Armed with neatly typed notes and a freshly brewed coffee, you claimed one of the small meeting rooms. The space was bright and organized, with a whiteboard on one wall and a sleek table in the center. You placed your materials in the exact center of the table, ensuring everything was perfectly aligned.

Ten minutes later, the door swung open, and Heeseung strolled in, late as usual. He carried nothing but a pen tucked behind his ear and an air of casual arrogance that immediately set your teeth on edge.

“You’re late,” you said, glancing pointedly at the clock.

“Fashionably late,” Heeseung replied, flashing you a grin. “You didn’t miss me that much, did you?”

You ignored the comment, gesturing toward the seat across from you. “Let’s get started.”

Instead of sitting where you’d indicated, Heeseung plopped into the chair right next to you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Sitting,” he said innocently. “Why? Do you have assigned seating too, Ms. Control Freak?”

Your jaw tightened. “I am not a control freak.”

“You’re totally a control freak,” he said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. “Look at this.” He gestured toward the neatly arranged notes in front of you. “Your papers are color-coded, for crying out loud.”

“It’s called being prepared,” you shot back. “You should try it sometime instead of showing up with nothing but that ridiculous smirk.”

“Ouch.” Heeseung placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “You wound me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Despite his infuriating demeanor, there was something oddly endearing about how easily he got under your skin.

The session quickly turned into a battle of wills.

“We should focus on a digital-first approach,” you argued, jotting ideas onto the whiteboard. “The client’s audience is primarily online, so that’s where we need to meet them.”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, twirling his pen between his fingers. “Sure, but that’s obvious. If we want to stand out, we need to do something unexpected. How about guerrilla marketing? Something bold and interactive.”

“Interactive campaigns are risky,” you countered, turning to face him. “What if it flops? We’d waste the client’s budget.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes you have to take risks. Not that you’d know anything about that, Ms. Play-It-Safe.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “And sometimes you need to be practical, Mr. Half-Baked-Ideas.”

For a moment, the two of you simply stared at each other, the air between you crackling with tension. Finally, Heeseung broke the silence with a chuckle.

“You’re really something, you know that?”

“Is that your way of admitting I’m right?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head, still smiling. “Not a chance.”

Just as you were about to fire back a retort, a small voice called out from the doorway.

“Noona!”

Your heart melted instantly as you turned to see your younger brother, Minjun, standing in the doorway with a wide grin. He was clutching a small stuffed bear in one hand, his backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder.

“Minjun?” you said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Mom had a meeting nearby, so she said I could come see you after school,” he explained, walking into the room. He paused when he noticed Heeseung, his big, curious eyes taking in the stranger.

“Who’s that?” Minjun asked, pointing at Heeseung.

Heeseung smiled, leaning down to Minjun’s level. “I’m Heeseung. And you must be Minjun, right?”

Minjun nodded, looking delighted. “How did you know my name?”

“She talks about you all the time,” Heeseung said, shooting you a sly glance.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I do not.”

“Yes, you do,” Heeseung said with a laugh.

Before you could argue, Minjun walked up to Heeseung and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Heeseung.”

Heeseung grinned and shook the tiny hand, his usual teasing expression softening. “Nice to meet you too, Minjun.”

To your utter surprise, Minjun didn’t let go of Heeseung’s hand. Instead, he tugged on it, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Do you work with my Noona?”

“I do,” Heeseung said.

“Is she a good worker?” Minjun asked, tilting his head.

Heeseung laughed, glancing at you. “She’s… very good at what she does.”

“See, Minjun?” you said, ruffling his hair. “Even Heeseung can admit I’m good at my job.”

Minjun nodded seriously, still holding onto Heeseung’s hand. “I like you,” he declared.

You blinked in shock. “Minjun!”

“What?” Minjun said innocently. “He’s nice.”

Heeseung chuckled, his ears turning slightly pink. “Thanks, buddy. I like you too.”

Minjun’s unexpected visit completely derailed the rest of the meeting. He insisted on sitting on your lap while you worked, occasionally chiming in with his own “ideas” for the campaign, which mostly involved adding superheroes and dinosaurs.

Heeseung, to his credit, played along, even sketching a quick dinosaur on the corner of your notes to make Minjun laugh. You couldn’t help but notice how gentle he was with your little brother, his usual sarcasm replaced with genuine warmth.

By the time your mom came to pick Minjun up, the entire office was buzzing about your “adorable little brother.”

Later that afternoon, you were tidying up the meeting room when Sunghoon and Yuna walked in.

“So,” Yuna said, leaning against the table with a smirk, “what’s going on with you and Heeseung?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glancing up from your notes.

“Really?” Sunghoon said, raising an eyebrow. “Because the way he was looking at you earlier… pretty suspicious.”

You rolled your eyes. “He wasn’t looking at me.”

“Yes, he was,” Yuna said, grinning. “And don’t even get me started on how cute you two were with Minjun.”

“We weren’t being cute,” you insisted.

“Oh, please,” Sunghoon said. “If you guys aren’t dating yet, it’s only a matter of time.”

“Exactly,” Yuna added. “You’d make such a cute couple.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Fine, fine,” Yuna said, holding up her hands. “But don’t say we didn’t tell you.”

As they left the room, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was any truth to their teasing.

Meanwhile, Heeseung was back at his desk, staring at the tiny dinosaur he’d doodled on your notes. He smiled to himself, thinking about Minjun’s wide-eyed innocence and the way you’d softened around your little brother.

Jay walked by and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“No reason,” Heeseung said, quickly flipping the page.

Jay smirked. “Uh-huh. Let me guess… it’s about her?”

“Shut up, Jay,” Heeseung muttered, but the smile lingered on his lips.

The office was eerily quiet at night, the usual hum of conversations and ringing phones replaced by the steady ticking of the wall clock. The overhead lights cast a warm glow on the small meeting room where you and Heeseung were holed up, brainstorming for the campaign. The faint aroma of coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the sound of your pen scratching against paper.

It was well past office hours, but neither of you seemed eager to leave. Or maybe, neither of you wanted to admit defeat by calling it a night first.

“I still think we should focus on the customer journey,” you said, jotting another note onto the whiteboard. “If we can show the client how their product fits seamlessly into their audience’s lives, it’ll be a win.”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied your work. “It’s not bad,” he admitted, though his tone made it sound like he was giving a grudging compliment. “But it’s missing something dynamic. What about an experiential element? Something that makes people feel like they’re part of the brand.”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You mean like that VR campaign you suggested earlier?”

“Exactly.”

“That was a terrible idea, Heeseung.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

He chuckled, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re bossy.”

You froze, the pen slipping from your fingers and clattering onto the table. “Excuse me?”

Heeseung grinned, clearly enjoying the way your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed. “I said you’re lucky you’re cute. Why? Did I catch you off guard?”

“N-no,” you stammered, looking away quickly.

“Hmm,” he said, tilting his head. “You’re staring at me a lot tonight, you know. Should I be worried you’re falling for me?”

Your head snapped back toward him, horrified. “I am not!”

The words tumbled out so quickly that they sounded more like a squeak, and Heeseung couldn’t help but laugh. The sound was warm and genuine, not his usual teasing chuckle, and for a moment, it caught you off guard.

“Relax,” he said, still smiling. “I’m just messing with you.”

You frowned, though the heat in your cheeks gave away your flustered state. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softening. “But you’re fun to mess with.”

The conversation shifted as the brainstorming stalled, both of you leaning back in your chairs and staring at the whiteboard covered in half-formed ideas. The quiet of the room wrapped around you like a cocoon, making the usual tension between you feel strangely less sharp.

“I’ll admit,” Heeseung said after a long pause, “this whole ‘teamwork’ thing isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his sudden honesty. “Really?”

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the whiteboard. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re still a control freak.”

“Thanks,” you said dryly.

“But…” He hesitated, fiddling with the pen in his hand. “You’re also… good at this. Like, really good. It’s kind of annoying how much you seem to have it all together.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the rare glimpse of vulnerability in his voice. “I don’t, though,” you said quietly. “Have it all together, I mean.”

He finally looked at you, his usual smirk replaced with a softer expression. “You seem like you do. Always calm, always prepared. Meanwhile, I’m just… faking it most of the time.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You? Faking it? You’re one of the smartest people I know, Heeseung. You’re always so confident.”

He laughed bitterly. “Yeah, well, confidence is easy to fake when everyone expects you to be the best. You don’t have a choice but to keep up the act.”

For a moment, the air between you grew heavier, the weight of his words settling over you. You’d always seen Heeseung as this untouchable force—effortlessly talented, infuriatingly self-assured. But now, you realized there was more to him than the arrogant façade he wore so well.

“I get it,” you said softly. “The pressure to prove yourself. To be perfect all the time. It’s exhausting.”

Heeseung looked at you, something unspoken passing between you in the quiet. “I didn’t think you’d understand,” he admitted.

You offered him a small smile. “I’m not as put-together as you think, Heeseung. I just try hard to look like I am.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, and for the first time, it felt like you were truly seeing each other—not as rivals, but as two people navigating the same struggles.

The moment was broken when Heeseung stood suddenly, stretching his arms above his head. “Alright, enough of the deep stuff,” he said, his usual playful tone returning. “I’m grabbing coffee. Want one?”

You nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Black, please.”

“Got it,” he said, heading for the door.

As soon as he left, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your heart was still racing from the unexpectedly candid conversation, and you couldn’t shake the image of his soft smile from your mind.

In the hallway, Heeseung passed by Chaewon and Jay, who were chatting near the coffee machine. They stopped when they noticed him, exchanging knowing looks.

“Heeseung again?” Chaewon whispered, glancing toward the meeting room.

Jay grinned. “I’m telling you, something’s definitely going on with those two.”

Chaewon giggled. “They’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”

Heeseung cleared his throat loudly, and both of them turned to face him, their expressions suspiciously innocent.

“Can I help you?” Heeseung asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” Chaewon said sweetly, though the glint in her eyes gave her away.

“Just making an observation,” Jay added, smirking.

“Right,” Heeseung said, grabbing two cups of coffee and heading back to the meeting room. He could still hear them whispering behind him, but he chose to ignore it.

When he returned, you looked up from your notes, offering him a small smile as he handed you your coffee.

“Thanks,” you said, your fingers brushing his briefly as you took the cup.

“No problem,” he said, sitting back down across from you. “Ready to get back to it?”

You nodded, though your mind was still reeling from everything that had happened that night.

As the two of you returned to brainstorming, the air between you felt lighter somehow, the sharp edges of your rivalry softened by the quiet understanding you’d found. For the first time, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, working with Heeseung wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The office had officially descended into chaos—or at least, that’s how it felt when Heeseung started leaving silly notes on your desk.

The first one appeared on your keyboard: “Are you sure you’re not a control freak? Just checking.”

You stared at the note, dumbfounded. You immediately turned to see if he was lurking nearby, but he was nowhere in sight.

Annoyed, you crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash, but the smirk on your face betrayed your amusement.

The next day, another note: “Hope your coffee’s as perfect as your ideas. Oh wait, it’s probably not.”

You groaned. It was getting ridiculous. But rather than letting it slide, you decided it was time to strike back.

When Heeseung stepped out for a meeting, you quietly swapped his coffee cup for a decaf. It was a small thing, but you could already picture the look on his face when he took that first sip.

Heeseung retaliated with little acts of sabotage—stealing your pens, hiding your notebooks, and even changing your desktop wallpaper to a picture of a cat in a business suit.

“Really, Heeseung?” you asked, staring at the screen.

“What?” he said, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “It’s a professional look.”

The office watched the pranks unfold with great interest, enjoying every moment of the harmless back-and-forth. Sunghoon and Yuna had taken it upon themselves to organize bets, placing wagers on who would confess their feelings first.

“Heeseung’s gonna crack first,” Sunghoon declared confidently, sipping his coffee. “You can tell by how often he looks at her.”

“You think?” Yuna raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, he’s pretty good at pretending like he’s not interested. But she’s definitely more than a little soft on him.”

The two of them exchanged glances, and you could hear the faint whispers whenever you and Heeseung passed by. It was a weird mix of fun and embarrassment, and you were trying your best to ignore it.

One afternoon, the tension between you and Heeseung reached a new peak. You were deep into a debate about the best direction for the campaign.

“I’m telling you,” you said, tapping the whiteboard with your marker. “This is a great idea. It’s fresh, it’s bold, and it speaks directly to the target audience.”

“Fresh, bold, and completely impractical,” Heeseung shot back, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re missing the whole point. This campaign needs to stand out. Not be a snooze fest.”

“It’s not a snooze fest!” you argued, frustration bubbling up. “It’s grounded in reality!”

Heeseung’s lips twitched into a teasing grin. “Reality’s boring.”

The banter between you both had always been playful, but this time, something was different. The words you exchanged seemed to hang in the air longer, and the intensity of your rivalry felt almost… charged.

You were so focused on arguing that you didn’t notice the loose cord at your feet until it was too late.

One second, you were standing tall, passionately defending your idea. The next, your foot caught on the cord, sending you tumbling forward.

“Heeseung!”

Your heart leapt into your throat as you felt yourself falling, bracing for impact. But before you could hit the floor, a pair of hands shot out and caught you by the waist.

Heeseung’s grip on you was firm, but his breath was shallow as he steadied you. You could feel the warmth of his body so close to yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

You blinked up at him, suddenly aware of how close you were. His face was inches away, his breath mingling with yours. His dark eyes were wide, caught off guard by the accidental intimacy.

“I… uh… you okay?” he asked, his voice sounding oddly strained.

“Yeah… I think so.” You felt your face heat up, but you couldn’t look away. Heeseung’s hands were still on your waist, and your heart was pounding in your chest.

Neither of you seemed to know what to do next. It was as though the world had slowed down for that brief, accidental moment, leaving both of you caught between the lines of rivalry and something else—something neither of you were ready to confront.

Before you could fully process what had happened, Heeseung cleared his throat and gently let go of you.

“Guess I should watch where I’m going,” you said quickly, stepping back and trying to act like nothing happened.

“Yeah, or maybe I should’ve made sure you didn’t trip over that stupid cord,” Heeseung muttered, running a hand through his hair. His usual teasing grin had faltered slightly, replaced by an uncertain expression.

You weren’t sure what to make of it. The moment felt too real.

“So…” you said awkwardly, clearing your throat. “About the campaign.”

Heeseung nodded, his usual smirk creeping back. “Right, back to work. I’m still not convinced by your idea, though.”

“Of course you’re not,” you said, trying to play it cool, though your heart was still racing.

But despite the playful banter, neither of you could fully shake the electricity in the air. It was like something had shifted between you, even if neither of you wanted to admit it.

As the day wore on, the office chatter grew louder.

Chaewon stopped by your desk, raising an eyebrow as she watched you and Heeseung from the corner of her eye.

“Is it just me, or did something happen between you two?” she asked, a sly grin on her face.

“Nothing happened,” you said quickly, too quickly.

Chaewon smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

Jay appeared beside her, and the two exchanged a knowing look.

“So, who’s gonna confess first?” Jay asked, crossing his arms.

You shot him a glare. “We’re not confessing anything.”

But as you glanced toward Heeseung, who was now looking at you with an unreadable expression, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, the lines between rivalry and something more were starting to blur.

The conference room was filled with the low hum of conversation as your team prepped for the big client presentation. BrightSpark Solutions had landed a high-profile meeting with a new client—a startup that had just secured major funding and was looking to revamp its image. This could be a game-changer for the agency, and the pressure was on.

You were ready, dressed in your best professional attire, your notes organized and the presentation slides perfect. But as you made final adjustments to the projector, you couldn’t help but notice the charming man who had just walked in. His name was Eunwoo, the CEO of the new client, and his bright smile seemed to light up the room.

Eunwoo was tall, with well-groomed dark hair and a tailored suit that fit him perfectly. He was charismatic in that way that made everyone in the room immediately pay attention, but he seemed particularly fixated on you. He flashed you a warm smile as you caught his eye, and you offered a polite one back, keeping things professional.

“Shall we get started?” you asked, gesturing to the presentation board.

“Oh, I’m sure this will be impressive,” Eunwoo said smoothly, his voice rich with charm. “But I’m more interested in getting to know you, personally. What do you think of the future of marketing?”

Your eyebrows shot up, caught off guard by his directness. “Well, I think it’s about understanding people more deeply. It’s not just about selling a product, but creating a connection with your audience.”

Eunwoo nodded thoughtfully, his gaze lingering just a little too long. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s refreshing to meet someone with such a deep understanding of what really matters. Maybe you could give me a personal tour of your thoughts sometime.”

The remark was playful, almost flirtatious, and it made you feel a little uncomfortable, though you kept your composure. You had dealt with flirtations before in this line of work, but something about Eunwoo’s attention made you uneasy—especially when you glanced over at Heeseung.

His posture had stiffened, and there was a small crease between his brows as he watched Eunwoo and you interact. Heeseung wasn’t usually the type to be visibly bothered by anything, but now he looked unusually tense.

You turned your attention back to the presentation, trying to focus. “Well, let’s get started,” you said, moving ahead with the first slide.

The meeting proceeded without further incident, but the entire time, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Eunwoo was paying you an unusual amount of attention. And each time he directed a compliment your way, you noticed Heeseung’s gaze shifting between you and the CEO, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

After the meeting, the team gathered in the break room to debrief.

“Great job, everyone,” Manager Kim said, though his attention was clearly focused on the next steps. “We’ll know the client’s decision soon. For now, enjoy the break.”

The team scattered, but you found yourself cornered at the coffee machine by none other than Heeseung, who had been unusually quiet throughout the meeting.

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up? You’ve barely said a word since the presentation.”

Heeseung’s expression was neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “Nothing,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the cup in his hands.

You shrugged, not sensing anything wrong. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Heeseung shot back, though his tone was a little sharper than usual.

You frowned. “Okay, then. Whatever you say.”

You poured yourself a coffee, turning to leave the break room, but Heeseung’s voice stopped you.

“I don’t get it,” he said, almost to himself. “Why was he so… interested in you?”

You turned back, confused. “Eunwoo? He’s just being friendly. It’s part of the job. We’re all supposed to impress the client.”

Heeseung shook his head, his jaw tightening. “No, it’s more than that. He was flirting with you.”

You blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. “What? No, he wasn’t.”

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed. “He was. He was way too interested in you.”

You laughed nervously, unsure of how to react to the sudden tension. “He’s just a charismatic guy, Heeseung. You know, it’s part of his charm.”

Heeseung didn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on you with a strange intensity. There was something about the way he was looking at you—something almost… possessive.

“Well, he’s got nothing on me,” Heeseung muttered, almost under his breath.

You raised your eyebrows, still not fully understanding the shift in his demeanor. “What are you talking about?”

But Heeseung didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed his own coffee, took a deep sip, and started walking back toward his desk without another word.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze. Every time you tried to approach Heeseung, he was either too busy with work or too lost in his thoughts to acknowledge you. It was as if the playful, teasing side of him had disappeared completely, replaced by an almost… cold detachment.

Chaewon, noticing the change in Heeseung’s behavior, sidled up to you during lunch. “Something’s off with him today,” she remarked, glancing over at Heeseung, who was absorbed in his laptop screen.

“I know, right? He’s been weird since the meeting,” you replied, picking at your salad absentmindedly.

“Do you think… he’s jealous?” Chaewon asked, her voice lowered as if she were sharing a secret.

“Jealous? No way. Heeseung’s not like that,” you scoffed.

But even as you said it, a small part of you couldn’t deny the possibility. The way Heeseung had reacted to Eunwoo’s attention, the way he seemed to care more than he let on—it all felt different.

Chaewon raised an eyebrow. “I’m just saying, it’s a possibility. I mean, who else would have the nerve to act like that if not someone who’s a little jealous?”

You sighed, trying to brush off her teasing. “Please, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Chaewon didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press the issue. “You’ll figure it out eventually,” she said with a grin. “I’m just saying, I can see it.”

Later that day, you caught Heeseung sneaking glances at you from across the office. Every time you looked up, his eyes would flicker away, as if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. It was almost like he was… waiting for you to make the first move.

It didn’t make sense. Why would Heeseung be acting like this? He’d always been competitive, sure, but this was different. He was acting like you belonged to him in some way—and the strangest part was, you couldn’t figure out if you liked it.

As the day wound down and the office began to empty out, you found yourself standing at your desk, collecting your things for the evening. Heeseung was still there, sitting at his desk, his focus seemingly entirely on his laptop.

Just as you were about to leave, he stood up abruptly.

“I’m not gonna let him get away with it,” he muttered, almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear.

You blinked, puzzled. “What?”

Heeseung looked up at you, his eyes intense. “I’m not gonna let that CEO keep flirting with you. You’re my—”

He stopped mid-sentence, realizing what he was about to say. His expression changed quickly, and he cleared his throat, looking away. “Never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, he walked out of the office, leaving you standing there, your heart racing from the unexpected exchange.

What had just happened? Was Heeseung… jealous?

It had been an unusually quiet morning at BrightSpark Solutions. Heeseung wasn’t teasing you, no pranks had been played, and he hadn’t made a single sarcastic comment. For some reason, that unsettled you more than the usual chaos.

You were at your desk, editing a campaign brief when a familiar, high-pitched voice broke through the office noise.

“Noona!”

Your head snapped up just as Minjun came barreling toward you, his backpack bouncing as he ran. His cheeks were flushed from the cold air outside, and his smile stretched from ear to ear.

“Minjun!” you exclaimed, standing up just in time to catch him in a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Chaewon-Noona said I could visit since school got out early,” Minjun chirped, his innocent eyes sparkling. “I missed you!”

Chaewon peeked her head around the corner, grinning. “He begged me. I couldn’t say no.”

You smiled warmly, ruffling Minjun’s hair. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, but you know the rules, no causing trouble, okay?”

Minjun nodded obediently before turning to look around the office, his eyes wide with curiosity. That’s when he spotted Heeseung, who was walking toward your desk with a coffee in one hand and a small bag of snacks in the other.

“Is that for me?” you asked, surprised, as Heeseung placed the items on your desk without a word.

“Don’t read too much into it,” he said casually, though there was a flicker of something softer in his expression. “You skipped breakfast again, didn’t you?”

Before you could respond, Minjun piped up, his voice loud and cheerful. “Is he your boyfriend, Noona?”

The office went dead silent.

You froze, your cheeks flushing instantly. “Minjun, what are you talking about?”

Minjun tilted his head innocently, pointing at the snacks. “He brought you food! That’s what boyfriends do!”

The room erupted into laughter, and you could feel every pair of eyes on you.

Heeseung, however, didn’t miss a beat. He crouched down to Minjun’s level, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “You caught me,” he said, winking. “I’m her boyfriend. What gave it away?”

Your jaw dropped. “Heeseung!”

“What?” He straightened up, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “The kid’s got great instincts.”

Minjun clapped his hands together, delighted. “I knew it! You’re a good boyfriend, hyung.”

You buried your face in your hands, mortified. “Minjun, he’s not-”

“Now, now,” Heeseung interrupted, grinning. “Let the kid believe what he wants. It’s harmless.”

Harmless? Your heart was racing, and your face felt like it was on fire. Harmless was the last word you’d use to describe this situation, especially when you could hear Chaewon and Jay whispering behind you.

The rest of the day was a blur. Word spread quickly, and before long, your supposed “relationship” with Heeseung became the talk of the office. Everywhere you went, coworkers gave you knowing smiles, and Sunghoon even had the audacity to ask if wedding bells were in your future.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Chaewon said, trying to stifle her laughter. “Honestly, it’s kind of cute.”

“It’s not cute,” you grumbled, glaring at her.

Chaewon shrugged, clearly unbothered. “If you ask me, Heeseung didn’t seem too bothered by it.”

That comment stayed with you as the day went on. Was Heeseung really unbothered, or was he just better at hiding his feelings than you were?

By the time the workday ended, Minjun had already declared the office his second home. He’d charmed everyone, from the interns to Manager Kim, and even managed to coax a laugh out of Yuna, who rarely broke her professional demeanor.

When it was time to leave, Heeseung surprised you by offering to walk you and Minjun home.

“It’s getting late,” he said, shrugging as if it were no big deal. “And I wouldn’t want Minjun to get tired on the way.”

You hesitated for a moment but ultimately agreed. Minjun was practically bouncing with excitement, holding Heeseung’s hand as you made your way out of the office.

The walk home was surprisingly peaceful. The streets were quieter than usual, and the cool evening air felt refreshing after a long day.

Minjun was full of energy, peppering Heeseung with questions about his job, his favorite foods, and whether or not he liked superheroes.

“I’m more of a villain guy,” Heeseung said with a smirk, causing Minjun to gasp dramatically.

“You can’t be a villain, Hyung! Noona needs a hero!”

Heeseung laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made your heartache in the best way.

“Alright, fine,” he said, ruffling Minjun’s hair. “I’ll be the hero, just for you and your Noona.”

You glanced at him, surprised by how naturally kind he was to Minjun. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen this side of him, but it still caught you off guard. Beneath all the teasing and arrogance, there was a softness to Heeseung that he didn’t let many people see.

When you finally reached your apartment, Minjun was yawning, his earlier excitement fading into sleepy contentment.

“Thanks for walking us home,” you said, unlocking the door.

“No problem,” Heeseung replied, his hands in his pockets. He glanced down at Minjun, who was leaning against your side. “Get some rest, kiddo. Being a matchmaker must be exhausting.”

Minjun giggled, his voice muffled by your coat. “Goodnight, hyung.”

As you ushered Minjun inside, you turned back to Heeseung one last time.

“Goodnight,” you said softly.

Heeseung smiled, his usual smirk replaced by something softer. “Goodnight, control freak.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. As you closed the door, you realized something had shifted between you and Heeseung.

It wasn’t just rivalry anymore. It was something more, something you weren’t quite ready to name—but something you knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore.

The client meeting had gone surprisingly well. Even Heeseung, who usually found something to nitpick, seemed impressed. You were feeling pretty good about yourself as the two of you left the client’s office building and stepped out onto the busy downtown street.

But as you glanced up at the darkening sky, your optimism began to fade. The once-pleasant afternoon had given way to ominous clouds, and the air was heavy with the promise of rain.

“We should hurry,” you said, quickening your pace.

Heeseung, walking leisurely beside you, shoved his hands into his pockets. “Relax, it’s just a little rain. You’re acting like it’s a hurricane.”

You shot him a look. “You say that now, but I’ll be the one stuck listening to you complain when your shoes get wet.”

Heeseung smirked, clearly unbothered. “I don’t complain. I just… make insightful observations.”

Before you could respond, the first drops of rain began to fall, quickly escalating into a full-blown downpour. People on the street scrambled for cover, and you grabbed Heeseung’s arm, dragging him toward the nearest coffee shop.

The small café was cozy and crowded, filled with people seeking refuge from the rain. You managed to snag a table by the window, the two of you sitting across from each other as the rain pounded against the glass.

“Great. Now we’re stuck,” you muttered, shaking the water off your jacket.

“Could be worse,” Heeseung said, leaning back in his chair. “At least we have coffee.”

You sighed, brushing your damp hair out of your face. Heeseung had already ordered for both of you—your usual latte and his preferred black coffee—and was now watching you with an amused expression.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Nothing,” he said, though his grin suggested otherwise. “You just look very… flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” you said quickly, though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because you’ve been glaring at me since we sat down.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your latte to avoid responding. The truth was, being stuck with Heeseung in such close quarters was throwing you off more than you cared to admit.

By the time the rain finally eased up, it was nearly evening, and the streets were still slick with water.

“Let’s go,” you said, standing up and grabbing your bag. “We’ll miss the last bus if we wait any longer.”

Heeseung followed you outside, where the rain had slowed to a light drizzle. You were about to start walking when he reached into his bag and pulled out an umbrella.

“Since when do you carry an umbrella?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

Heeseung shrugged, opening the umbrella with a practiced motion. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

The umbrella was just big enough for two people, and you hesitated for a moment before stepping under it. Heeseung tilted it slightly to make sure you were fully covered, and you tried to ignore the way your shoulders brushed as you began walking.

The streets were quiet, the sound of rain and your footsteps the only noise. You were both silent at first, but the tension between you was palpable.

“Why are you so quiet?” Heeseung finally asked, glancing at you.

“I’m just tired,” you replied, though that wasn’t entirely true. Being this close to him was making it hard to think straight.

Heeseung chuckled softly. “Tired, huh? Or are you still mad about earlier?”

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“At the meeting,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “You got all defensive when I said your presentation was ‘too polished.’”

You stopped walking, turning to face him. “Because you always have to find something to criticize. Why can’t you just admit when I do a good job?”

Heeseung blinked, caught off guard by your sudden outburst. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just joking—”

“That’s the problem!” you interrupted, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re always joking. You never take anything seriously.”

Heeseung’s grip on the umbrella tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to argue. But then his expression softened, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“I take you seriously, okay?” he said, his voice quieter than before.

You stared at him, stunned into silence.

“I take you seriously,” he repeated, his gaze meeting yours. “Probably more than anyone else.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you didn’t know how to respond. Before you could say anything, Heeseung cleared his throat and looked away, his usual smirk creeping back onto his face.

“Anyway,” he said, shifting the umbrella slightly, “let’s get going before you catch a cold.”

The rest of the walk was quiet, but the atmosphere between you had changed. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Heeseung had said, the sincerity in his voice lingering in your mind.

When you finally reached the bus station, Heeseung held the umbrella over you until you were safely under the awning.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your heart still racing.

Heeseung nodded, his usual playful demeanor returning. “Don’t get used to it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile on your face betrayed you. As you boarded the bus, you couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time, wondering if there was more to Heeseung than you’d ever realized.

The morning started as it always did—with a new wave of gossip.

“Did you hear? Apparently, they walked home together last night.”

“Are they actually dating? Or is it just Heeseung being… Heeseung?”

You sighed as you overheard the whispers from the interns near the coffee machine. It had been like this for days, ever since Minjun’s “boyfriend” declaration. No matter how many times you denied it, the rumor mill at BrightSpark Solutions only seemed to churn faster.

“Heeseung brought her coffee again this morning,” Yuna muttered to Sunghoon, who was pouring sugar into his tea. “That’s not normal coworker behavior, right?”

“Definitely not,” Sunghoon replied, grinning. “I’m putting my money on him confessing first.”

You tried to tune them out as you made your way to your desk, but it was impossible to ignore the smug look on Chaewon’s face as she leaned over your cubicle.

“So,” she began, resting her chin on her hands, “how’s the office power couple doing today?”

“Chaewon,” you groaned, dropping your bag onto your chair. “Please stop.”

She smirked, undeterred. “I’m just saying, you two have been spending a lot of time together lately. And the way he looks at you—”

“There’s nothing going on,” you said firmly, though your cheeks betrayed you by flushing pink.

Chaewon raised an eyebrow. “Sure there isn’t. But for the record, I think you two would be adorable together.”

Before you could respond, Heeseung strolled into the office, his usual confident stride turning more heads than you cared to admit. He flashed you a lazy grin as he walked by, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in your laptop.

Chaewon snickered. “Yup. Totally nothing going on.”

By lunchtime, the gossip had reached ridiculous levels. Even Manager Kim, who was usually oblivious to office drama, commented on how “well you and Heeseung have been working together lately.”

But the real chaos began when Chaewon and Jay decided to intervene.

“We need to speed this up,” Jay whispered as the two of them huddled near the printer.

Chaewon nodded, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Agreed. It’s painfully obvious they like each other, but neither of them is going to make the first move.”

Jay grinned. “I have an idea. How do you feel about supply rooms?”

You were in the middle of reviewing campaign drafts when Chaewon appeared beside your desk, looking unusually serious.

“Hey, can you help me grab some supplies from the storage room?” she asked.

You frowned. “What do you need? I can grab it for you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she insisted, waving her hand. “I just need an extra pair of hands. It’ll only take a minute.”

Reluctantly, you followed her to the supply room, which was tucked away in a quiet corner of the office. When you stepped inside, the shelves were packed with office supplies, and the faint smell of cardboard lingered in the air.

“What exactly are we looking for?” you asked, glancing around.

“Uh, paper clips,” Chaewon said vaguely.

You turned to ask her where they were, only to find her standing in the doorway with a sly smile.

“Chaewon, what are you—”

Before you could finish, she shut the door and turned the lock.

“Good luck!” she called through the door, her laughter echoing as she walked away.

“Chaewon!” you shouted, jiggling the handle. It wouldn’t budge.

Just then, you heard footsteps behind you, and you turned to see Heeseung standing in the middle of the room, holding a box of printer paper.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.

You groaned, leaning your forehead against the door. “Chaewon locked us in.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Locked us in? Why?”

“Because she’s Chaewon,” you muttered. “And because everyone in this office has apparently decided that we’re their new favorite soap opera.”

Heeseung chuckled, setting the box down on a nearby shelf. “I mean, can you blame them? We are pretty entertaining.”

You shot him a glare, but he just smirked, clearly enjoying your frustration.

For the next fifteen minutes, the two of you tried everything to get the door open, from picking the lock with a paperclip—to calling Jay, who conveniently “couldn’t hear his phone.”

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, sitting down on a crate.

“Agreed,” Heeseung said, leaning against the wall. “But hey, at least it’s not the worst place to be stuck. We’ve got snacks.”

You followed his gaze to a shelf stocked with granola bars and bottled water, and you couldn’t help but laugh despite yourself.

“Glad to see you’re making the best of this,” you said dryly.

Heeseung shrugged, his expression softening. “You should try it sometime. Not everything has to be a big deal, you know.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond. The truth was, you were starting to envy Heeseung’s ability to stay so relaxed in any situation.

As the minutes ticked by, the silence between you grew heavier. You found yourself stealing glances at Heeseung, wondering—against your better judgment, what he was thinking.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he said, tilting his head. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” you lied, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Come on, you can tell me. We’re stuck here anyway.”

You hesitated, debating whether or not to say anything. But the weight of the gossip, the teasing, and your own swirling feelings finally got to you.

“Do you ever… wonder if people are right about us?” you asked softly, not meeting his gaze.

Heeseung blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Right about what?”

“About… us,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and you immediately regretted bringing it up.

But then he smiled, his expression unusually sincere. “Well, I can’t speak for them,” he said, “but I know what I think.”

You looked up at him, your heart pounding. “And what do you think?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but just then, the door creaked open, and Jay’s grinning face appeared.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jay said, clearly not sorry at all. “But Chaewon said I had to let you out eventually.”

You quickly stood up, brushing past Jay without a word. Heeseung followed behind you, his usual smirk firmly back in place.

“Let’s call this a draw,” he said, leaning down so only you could hear. “For now.”

The office was eerily quiet at night. Most of your coworkers had already left, the usual hum of conversation and clatter of keyboards replaced by the steady ticking of the wall clock.

You glanced at the time—9:14 PM.

“Remind me why we’re still here,” you mumbled, rubbing your tired eyes.

Heeseung, sitting across from you at the shared desk, looked up from his laptop with a mischievous grin. “Because we’re perfectionists. Or at least you are. I’m just here for moral support.”

You shot him a look. “Moral support? You’ve done nothing but steal my snacks and make fun of my color schemes.”

“I call it constructive criticism,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. Despite his teasing, Heeseung had actually been helpful tonight. The campaign you were working on was one of the biggest projects of your career, and his sharp eye for detail had saved you from more than one embarrassing mistake.

Still, working late with him came with its challenges—namely, how effortlessly he managed to get under your skin.

The two of you had been at it for hours, but the atmosphere had shifted as the night wore on. The usual bickering gave way to something quieter, more comfortable. At some point, Heeseung had moved his chair closer to yours, and now you were sitting so close that your elbows brushed whenever you reached for something on the desk.

“Okay, hear me out,” Heeseung said, breaking the silence. “What if we scrap the entire tagline and go with something simpler? Like, ‘Bold ideas for a bold future.’”

You looked at him skeptically. “That’s… not terrible. But it sounds like every other campaign ever made.”

Heeseung feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “Wow. Remind me never to share my brilliant ideas with you again.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll take your ideas seriously when you take mine seriously.”

“I do take you seriously,” he said, his tone softening. “I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you found yourself meeting his gaze. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“Anyway,” Heeseung said after a beat, breaking the silence. “How’s this for an alternative tagline: ‘BrightSpark—lighting up your tomorrow’?”

You groaned. “That’s even worse. Were you trying to make it sound like a toothpaste ad?”

Heeseung burst out laughing, and you couldn’t help but join in. The sound of your laughter filled the empty office, and for a moment, you forgot about the project, the deadlines, and everything else.

As the laughter died down, you realized how close Heeseung had leaned toward you. His elbow rested on the desk, his chin propped on his hand, and his eyes were fixed on yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You froze, suddenly hyperaware of the small space between you. The playful teasing in his expression had been replaced by something else—something that made your stomach flutter.

“Heeseung,” you said softly, your voice barely audible.

He tilted his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “What?”

“I—” You didn’t know what you were going to say, and before you could figure it out, the moment was interrupted by the sound of the office door opening.

“Hey, are you guys still—oh.”

You turned to see Sunghoon standing in the doorway, a folder in his hand and a curious look on his face.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, though the smirk tugging at his lips suggested he already knew the answer.

“No,” you said quickly, scooting your chair back. “We were just… working.”

“Right,” Sunghoon said, clearly unconvinced. He walked over to your desk and set the folder down. “Manager Kim wanted me to drop this off. Something about final approvals.”

“Thanks,” Heeseung said, his tone casual, though you noticed he avoided looking at Sunghoon.

Sunghoon lingered for a moment, glancing between the two of you before finally walking away.

As soon as he was gone, you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Well, that was awkward,” you muttered, avoiding Heeseung’s gaze.

He chuckled softly. “It’s Sunghoon. Everything he does is awkward.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. But the charged moment from earlier still lingered in the back of your mind, making it hard to focus on anything else.

The two of you worked in relative silence for the next hour, though the atmosphere felt different. Every time Heeseung leaned closer to point something out on your laptop screen, your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t stop wondering if he had felt the same tension as you had earlier.

By the time you finally wrapped up for the night, it was nearly midnight.

“Ready to call it a night?” Heeseung asked, stretching his arms over his head.

“Definitely,” you said, packing up your things.

As you walked out of the office together, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the stuffy office.

“Thanks for sticking around tonight,” you said as you reached the subway station. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Heeseung smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Anytime. But don’t get used to it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the teasing tone in his voice made you smile.

As you went on the bus, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you and Heeseung had shifted—and that it was only a matter of time before things changed even more.

The evening started like any other, with you rushing home after work, exhausted but relieved to finally relax. Minjun had been unusually quiet during dinner prep, which should have been your first clue that something was up.

“Minjun,” you called from the kitchen, where you were chopping vegetables. “Can you set the table? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Okay!” he chirped from the living room.

It wasn’t until the doorbell rang that you realized he was up to something. You frowned, wiping your hands on a towel. “Were we expecting someone?”

Minjun poked his head around the corner, grinning mischievously. “I might’ve invited someone over.”

Your heart sank. Minjun had a habit of inviting his friends over at the worst possible times—like the time he brought three classmates home right before your big presentation, leaving you scrambling to entertain them.

“Who did you invite?” you asked warily.

Before he could answer, the doorbell rang again, and Minjun darted to open it.

“Hi, Heeseung!” Minjun’s excited voice echoed through the apartment.

Your stomach dropped.

“Minjun!” you hissed, rushing to the door just in time to see Heeseung step inside, a bemused smile on his face.

“Hope I’m not intruding,” Heeseung said, holding up a bag of takeout desserts. “Your little brother insisted I come over for dinner. Said you needed some company.”

You glared at Minjun, who was bouncing on his toes like he’d just pulled off the prank of the century. “Minjun, you can’t just invite people over without telling me!”

“But you’re always talking about him,” Minjun said innocently. “And he brought cake!”

Heeseung laughed, clearly amused by the situation. “I promise I didn’t mean to crash your dinner. I can leave if you want.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No, it’s fine. You’re here now. Might as well stay.”

Dinner was… chaotic, to say the least.

Minjun, thrilled to have Heeseung as a guest, spent the entire meal peppering him with questions.

“So, Heeseung,” Minjun began, his eyes sparkling with curiosity, “do you like my Noona?”

You nearly choked on your rice. “Minjun!”

“What?” Minjun said, blinking innocently. “He’s always nice to you. And he brings you coffee. Isn’t that what boyfriends do?”

“Minjun, that’s enough,” you said firmly, your cheeks burning.

Heeseung, however, took it in stride. He leaned back in his chair, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I mean, your Noona’s great. Who wouldn’t like her?”

Your eyes widened, and Minjun gasped dramatically. “So you do like her!”

“Minjun!” you exclaimed, wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

Heeseung laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “I didn’t say that. But for the record, your Noona is pretty amazing.”

You stared at him, too flustered to respond. Minjun, meanwhile, was grinning like he’d just solved the mystery of the century.

As the meal went on, Minjun’s questions only got worse.

“When are you getting married?”

“Minjun!”

“How many kids do you want?”

“MINJUN!”

Despite your mortification, Heeseung handled it like a pro. He answered Minjun’s questions with good-natured humor, all while sneaking in compliments that made your heart race.

“She’d make an amazing partner,” he said at one point, glancing at you with a soft smile. “She’s kind, hardworking, and always looking out for the people she cares about.”

You froze, unsure how to respond. Was he just playing along for Minjun’s sake, or did he actually mean it?

After dinner, Minjun insisted on showing Heeseung his favorite video game, leaving you to clean up in the kitchen. You were halfway through washing the dishes when Heeseung appeared beside you, rolling up his sleeves.

“You don’t have to help,” you said, glancing at him.

He shrugged, grabbing a dish towel. “I want to. Plus, it’s the least I can do after crashing your dinner.”

You smiled despite yourself. “This was all Minjun’s idea, you know.”

“I figured,” he said, laughing. “The kid’s a natural matchmaker.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t encourage him.”

For a while, the two of you worked in comfortable silence, the sound of running water and clinking dishes filling the room. But as the last plate was dried, Heeseung spoke, his voice softer than usual.

“You know,” he began, folding the dish towel and setting it aside, “Minjun’s not wrong about everything he said tonight.”

You froze your hands stilling over the sink. “What do you mean?”

He leaned against the counter, his gaze steady and unwavering. “I mean, he’s right about you being amazing. And about me liking you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You turned to face him. “Heeseung, I—”

“I’m not saying it to make you uncomfortable,” he added quickly, his usual playful grin replaced with something more sincere. “I just… I feel like I’ve been dancing around it for too long, and Minjun kind of gave me the push I needed. You don’t have to say anything, but I wanted you to know.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. Heeseung liked you? Heeseung—the same person who teased you relentlessly and called you a control freak—actually liked you?

“I… don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just think about it. And, for the record, I think Minjun would make a great best man someday.”

Your cheeks burned, but before you could respond, Minjun bounded into the kitchen, holding a controller.

“Heeseung, come play with me! I need someone on my team!”

Heeseung straightened up, giving you one last smile before turning to Minjun. “Alright, little man. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As the two of them disappeared into the living room, you leaned against the counter, your heart pounding.

Heeseung liked you.

The morning started like any other at BrightSpark Solutions: the hum of conversations, the rhythmic clicking of keyboards, and the faint aroma of coffee wafting through the air. But for you, there was a noticeable difference—Heeseung.

Ever since his unexpected confession at your apartment, things between the two of you had been different. Not awkward, surprisingly, but more… charged. His teasing had taken on a softer edge, and you found yourself smiling more often, even when he was being his usual annoying self.

Today, he was seated at the desk beside yours, balancing a pen on his finger while waiting for his files to load.

“Hey,” he said, leaning slightly toward you, the pen rolling off his hand. “Do you think we should pitch the ‘Bold Futures’ tagline today? Or do you want to play it safe with the original idea?”

You barely glanced up from your laptop. “The ‘Bold Futures’ tagline is a death sentence. Stick with the original.”

He grinned, resting his chin on his palm. “You’re so confident. It’s honestly intimidating sometimes.”

You arched an eyebrow, finally meeting his gaze. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” he said smoothly. “It’s actually kind of hot.”

Your breath hitched, and you quickly looked away, your face warming. “Heeseung!”

“What?” he said, laughing softly. “Am I wrong?”

Before you could respond, he casually reached over and tugged the pen from your hand.

“Hey!” you said, glaring at him.

“You’ve been clicking this for the past five minutes,” he said, spinning the pen between his fingers. “It’s distracting.”

“It’s my pen,” you shot back, reaching for it.

Heeseung smirked, holding it out of your reach. “Not anymore.”

You stood up, trying to grab it, but he quickly leaned back, holding the pen over his head.

“Lee Heeseung!” you said, half-laughing, half-annoyed.

“What’s the magic word?” he teased, his grin widening.

“Give. It. Back.”

“Close, but no cigar,” he said, enjoying himself far too much.

You reached for the pen again, leaning across the desk, and your fingers brushed against his hand just as your coworker Sunghoon let out an exaggerated cough.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned to see half the office staring at you, some with raised eyebrows, others barely suppressing laughter.

The moment was short-lived, though, because Manager Kim stepped out of his office, his sharp gaze zeroing in on you and Heeseung.

“Lee, Y/N,” he called, his tone stern.

You and Heeseung straightened up immediately, the playful atmosphere evaporating.

“Could you come to my office for a moment?”

“Yes, sir,” you both said in unison, shooting each other a look as you followed him into the glass-walled room.

Manager Kim folded his arms, leaning back against his desk. “I’ve been watching you two lately,” he began, his tone measured but firm. “You seem… very comfortable with each other.”

Your stomach sank.

“I don’t mind a little camaraderie among coworkers,” he continued. “But this project is too important to risk any distractions. So, from now on, you’ll be working on separate tasks. Understood?”

Your eyes widened. “Separate tasks?”

He nodded. “Y/N, you’ll focus on the visuals and presentation materials. Heeseung, you’ll handle the copy and client communication. Report directly to me if you need clarification.”

“But-” you started to protest, only to be cut off by Heeseung.

“Understood, sir,” he said smoothly, his expression neutral.

You glanced at him, surprised by his calm acceptance. Manager Kim dismissed you both, and as you walked back to your desks, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration.

The next few days felt… wrong.

You missed the easy banter and playful arguments that had made working with Heeseung bearable—even fun. Without him by your side, the office felt dull, the silence almost oppressive.

Every time you glanced over at his desk, you found him hunched over his laptop, headphones in, completely focused on his work. He didn’t even glance your way, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

Chaewon, ever observant, noticed your foul mood almost immediately.

“Okay, spill,” she said, sitting on the edge of your desk during lunch. “Why do you look like someone stole your puppy?”

You sighed, poking at your salad with a fork. “It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly unconvinced. “Does this ‘nothing’ have anything to do with Heeseung?”

You looked up sharply, and she smirked. “Thought so. What happened?”

“Manager Kim split us up,” you admitted. “We’re working on separate tasks now.”

“And you’re sad because…?”

“I’m not sad,” you said quickly, but Chaewon raised an eyebrow.

“You miss him,” she said matter-of-factly. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

You opened your mouth to protest but closed it again, realizing she was right.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the office, Jay was having a very similar conversation with Heeseung.

“You’ve been weirdly quiet lately,” Jay said, leaning back in his chair. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Heeseung said, typing furiously on his keyboard.

Jay snorted. “Right. And I’m the CEO of BrightSpark. Come on, man, talk to me. Is this about Y/N?”

Heeseung paused, his fingers hovering over the keys. “Manager Kim split us up.”

“And?”

“And it’s… annoying,” Heeseung admitted. “I’m used to working with her. Now it feels like something’s missing.”

Jay chuckled. “Look, just hang in there. Knowing Y/N, she’s probably just as miserable as you are right now.”

By the end of the week, you couldn’t take it anymore. You missed Heeseung’s annoying jokes, his ridiculous nicknames for you, and even the way he stole your pens.

As you packed up for the day, you glanced over at his desk one last time. He was still there, his head bent over his laptop.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over and tapped his shoulder.

Heeseung looked up, surprised. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said softly. “I, uh… I just wanted to say that I miss working with you. It’s weird, not having you around.”

His expression softened, and for the first time all week, you saw a hint of the familiar grin you’d missed so much.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice equally quiet. “I miss it too.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the unspoken understanding between you saying more than words ever could.

As you walked out of the office together, you couldn’t help but smile. 

TYPING THING

The office was unusually quiet for a Friday afternoon, with most of the staff either wrapping up for the weekend or grabbing coffee to get through the last stretch of the day. You were at your desk, double-checking slides for the upcoming client presentation, your focus unwavering.

Heeseung, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as productive.

For the last twenty minutes, he’d been sitting at his desk, staring at the small piece of paper in his hand. Scribbled on it were the words he’d been too chicken to say out loud:

I like you. More than I probably should. But I think you’re amazing.

Heeseung read the note for the fiftieth time, his nerves getting the best of him. It wasn’t grand or overly poetic, but it was honest, and it was him. He figured that might be enough.

He cast a glance at your desk. You were so absorbed in your work, your soft voice barely audible as you answered a question from Yuna. Heeseung felt his heart skip a beat, and before he could overthink it, he folded the note and slipped it into your desk drawer when no one was looking.

“Step one complete,” he muttered to himself, quickly returning to his desk and pretending to work.

Later that evening, you packed up your things and headed out with Minjun, who had insisted on meeting you at work. Heeseung had ruffled Minjun’s hair on the way out, earning a cheeky “Bye, hyung!” that left Heeseung smiling to himself.

But what neither of you noticed was that Minjun, curious as ever, had opened your desk drawer while waiting for you. He’d seen the folded piece of paper and thought it was a doodle Heeseung left for him (a habit Heeseung had developed during Minjun’s office visits). Without a second thought, Minjun tucked the note into his pocket.

The next morning, you were seated at the breakfast table, sipping tea as Minjun bounded into the room, holding a piece of paper.

“Noona!” he chirped, waving it in front of your face. “Look what I found in your drawer!”

You blinked, setting your mug down. “What is it?”

Minjun handed it over proudly, and your stomach did a backflip as your eyes scanned the words.

I like you. More than I probably should. But I think you’re amazing.

Your heart raced. You immediately recognized Heeseung’s handwriting.

Minjun grinned innocently, leaning on the table. “Is it from your boyfriend?”

“W-What?” you stammered, feeling heat rush to your cheeks.

“Isn’t it from Heeseung Hyung?” Minjun asked, tilting his head. “He’s always smiling at you. And he brought you snacks the other day. That’s what boyfriends do, right?”

You couldn’t decide if you wanted to laugh or hide under the table. “Minjun, it’s not–he’s not-”

Minjun pouted. “But I like him. Can’t he be your boyfriend?”

You sighed, folding the note and setting it aside. “It’s complicated, okay?”

“Why?” Minjun asked, his wide, innocent eyes making your heartache. “Do you not like him?”

Your face burned. “Minjun, eat your breakfast.”

Minjun grinned knowingly, taking a big bite of toast. “You do like him,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. This was not how you imagined starting your weekend.

Meanwhile, Heeseung was at home, pacing his living room.

“She’s going to see it today,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “And she’s either going to think I’m sweet or an idiot. Probably an idiot.”

Jay, who was lounging on Heeseung’s couch, looked up from his phone. “You’re overthinking it. She’s definitely going to think it’s sweet.”

“You don’t know that,” Heeseung shot back.

Jay shrugged. “Okay, but let’s say she does like it. Then what?”

Heeseung froze. “I… don’t know. Confess, I guess?”

Jay smirked. “You ‘guess’? Come on, man, you’ve been pining after her for months. You need to have a plan.”

Heeseung groaned, flopping onto the couch beside Jay. “Why is this so hard?”

“Because you’re making it hard,” Jay said. “Just tell her how you feel. Worst-case scenario, she doesn’t feel the same, and you move on.”

Heeseung glared at him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Back at your apartment, you stared at the note again, Minjun’s words echoing in your mind.

Was it possible that Heeseung really felt that way? The thought made your chest tighten, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside you.

Chaewon’s voice rang in your head: You miss him. Don’t even try to deny it.

With a deep breath, you grabbed your phone and opened a text thread with Heeseung.

Hey, are you free later? I think we need to talk.

Your finger hovered over the send button for a moment before you hit it, your heart pounding.

Seconds later, the “typing…” bubble appeared, and your stomach flipped.

Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?

You smiled faintly. That was so like him—always checking in.

Yeah. I’ll let you know when I’m free.

As you set your phone down, Minjun peeked over your shoulder, his face lighting up. “Are you texting Heeseung Hyung?”

You gave him a look. “Don’t you have homework to do?”

Minjun grinned. “Nope! Can I invite him over for dinner again?”

You sighed, ruffling his hair. “Maybe.”

Minjun beamed, clearly pleased with himself. As he darted off to watch cartoons, you shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Minjun might have been a little troublemaker, but you had to admit—his matchmaking skills weren’t half bad.

The afternoon passed in a blur of anxious thoughts and restless pacing. You had texted Heeseung again, asking him to meet you at a quiet café near your apartment. It was a neutral, low-pressure spot, perfect for whatever this conversation would turn out to be.

As you sat at a corner table, fiddling with the edge of your cup, you tried to mentally rehearse what you would say. But every time you formed a sentence in your head, it sounded either too vague or too awkward.

The sound of the bell above the door snapped you out of your thoughts. Heeseung walked in, scanning the room until his eyes landed on you. He smiled, his usual confidence tempered with a hint of curiosity.

“Hey,” he said as he slid into the seat across from you. “What’s up? You seemed… serious.”

Your heart pounded. He looked too good in his casual hoodie and jeans, his hair slightly tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed.

You forced yourself to smile. “Thanks for coming. I just—there’s something I need to ask you.”

Heeseung tilted his head, leaning forward slightly. “Go ahead.”

You reached into your bag, pulling out the folded note Minjun had so helpfully delivered. Placing it on the table between you, you said, “I think this is yours.”

His expression froze. For a moment, he stared at the paper as if it were a live grenade. Then, with a nervous laugh, he picked it up.

“Ah… so you found it,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Actually, Minjun found it,” you said, unable to hide your small smile. “He was convinced it was from my ‘boyfriend.’”

Heeseung groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Of course he did.”

You bit your lip, watching as he slowly set the note down. “Is it true? What you wrote?”

Heeseung took a deep breath, his playful mask slipping for a moment. “Yeah, it’s true.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You had expected him to dodge, to brush it off with a joke, but here he was, being completely honest.

“I’ve liked you for a while now,” he continued, his voice softer than usual. “I just… didn’t know how to tell you. And I wasn’t sure if you felt the same.”

Your heart felt like it was doing cartwheels. “Heeseung, I—”

He cut you off, his gaze meeting yours. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same. I get it. I just needed you to know.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache. You took a shaky breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “I do feel the same.”

Heeseung blinked, his surprise evident. “You… do?”

You nodded, your cheeks burning. “I didn’t realize it at first, but… I think I’ve liked you for a while, too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the confession settling over the table. Then Heeseung’s lips curved into a grin.

“So… does this mean Minjun was right?” he teased, his confidence returning. “I am your boyfriend now?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Don’t push your luck.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Too late. I’m never going to let Minjun live this down.”

You shook your head, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through you at the thought.

When you walked through the door later that evening, Minjun was waiting in the living room, his face lighting up the moment he saw you.

“Did you see Heeseung Hyung?” he asked eagerly.

You sighed, ruffling his hair. “Yes, Minjun, I saw him.”

“And?”

“And… you were right.”

Minjun’s eyes widened. “So he is your boyfriend now?”

You groaned, but your blush gave you away. “Go do your homework!”

Minjun darted away with a triumphant grin, leaving you to collapse onto the couch, your heart still racing.

This wasn’t how you had imagined things unfolding, but as chaotic as it had been, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was exactly as it should be.

The day of the big project presentation had finally arrived, and the energy at BrightSpark Solutions was electric. After months of brainstorming, late-night revisions, and a few too many arguments that had led to your newfound relationship, it all came down to this moment.

You were pacing the hallway outside the conference room, clutching a printed copy of the pitch deck. Heeseung leaned casually against the wall, watching you with an amused smile.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet,” he teased.

You shot him a glare, though your lips twitched with a smile. “This is huge, Heeseung. What if something goes wrong?”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong,” he said confidently, stepping closer and gently prying the deck from your hands. “We’ve practiced this a hundred times. You’ve got this. We’ve got this.”

You sighed, the warmth in his voice calming your nerves. “You’re way too relaxed.”

He smirked, leaning down slightly. “That’s why we make such a great team. You worry enough for both of us.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered. Even now, his confidence was annoyingly reassuring.

Inside the conference room, the air was thick with tension as the high-profile clients took their seats. Manager Kim gave you both a firm nod before signaling for you to begin.

As the presentation unfolded, you and Heeseung fell into a seamless rhythm. Your calm, explanations paired perfectly with his engaging, charismatic delivery. The clients nodded along, visibly impressed by the visuals and strategies you’d spent countless nights perfecting.

By the time the Q&A session ended, the clients exchanged a few whispered words before standing.

“This is exactly what we were looking for,” one of them said with a smile. “We’re excited to move forward with BrightSpark.”

Relief flooded you as the room erupted into polite applause. You glanced at Heeseung, who grinned and gave you a small thumbs-up.

The second you stepped out of the conference room, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “We did it,” you whispered, leaning against the wall.

Heeseung stood beside you, his grin widening. “No, you did it. You were amazing in there.”

You shook your head, still catching your breath. “We both did it. This wouldn’t have happened without you.”

Heeseung turned to face you fully, his expression softening. “Well, I’m proud of us. But mostly, I’m proud of you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. The noise of the office faded into the background as he stepped closer.

Before you could overthink it, Heeseung tilted his head and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

Your breath caught, and you managed a small nod.

Heeseung leaned in, his hand gently brushing against yours as his lips met yours in a kiss that was both soft and electric. For a moment, everything else disappeared, and all you could think about was how right this felt.

The door to the conference room burst open, and the sound of cheering snapped you back to reality.

“Congratulations!” Chaewon shouted, leading a group of coworkers who had clearly been eavesdropping.

You and Heeseung jumped apart, your faces turning bright red as the group flooded into the hallway.

“Oh my god,” Yuna squealed. “Were you guys just kissing?”

“I knew it!” Jay crowed, pointing at Heeseung. “You owe me twenty bucks!”

Heeseung groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Seriously? You guys couldn’t give us five minutes?”

Chaewon smirked, crossing her arms. “Not a chance. Besides, it’s about time you two got together officially.”

You buried your face in your hands, utterly mortified. Heeseung, however, quickly recovered and slung an arm around your shoulder.

“Alright, alright, let’s hear it,” he said, grinning. “How many of you had bets going?”

Nearly everyone raised their hands, much to your dismay.

“I hate all of you,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

As the celebration continued, you found a quiet moment with Heeseung near the break room.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly how I pictured our first kiss,” you admitted, your cheeks still warm.

Heeseung laughed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Yeah, but it’s kind of perfect, isn’t it? Pure chaos—just like us.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

Heeseung’s gaze softened, and he laced his fingers with yours. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

As the sound of your coworkers’ laughter echoed down the hall, you realized he was right. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. And that made it more than enough.

BrightSpark Solutions buzzed with its usual energy, but this time, it was different. The project that had brought you and Heeseung together had long since been wrapped up, earning the company not only a high-profile client but also a glowing reputation. However, the real headline—according to the office gossip mill—was that the two of you were now officially dating.

As you walked into the office hand in hand with Heeseung, the sound of mock cheering and applause greeted you.

“Oh, look! The lovebirds have arrived,” Jay called out, grinning from his desk.

Yuna leaned over, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Should we throw you another party, or is it too soon?”

Chaewon gave a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, it’s exhausting watching you two be so cute all the time.”

You rolled your eyes, your cheeks flushing. “I don’t know why you guys are so obsessed with us.”

“Because you’re finally together after months of unresolved tension!” Yuna exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Do you know how hard it was to watch that? It was like a slow-burn romance novel, but with fewer cliffhangers.”

Heeseung laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Admit it, though. It was worth the wait.”

Jay pretended to gag. “Ugh, save it for after work. Some of us are single, you know.”

Later that day, Minjun made his usual post-school visit to the office, bouncing in with the enthusiasm only a child could muster.

“Hi, Noona! Hi, Heeseung hyung!” he greeted, skipping over to your desk.

“Hey, buddy,” Heeseung said, crouching down to Minjun’s level. “What’s up?”

Minjun puffed out his chest like he had an important announcement. “I told my teacher that I have a new brother now.”

Your jaw dropped. “Minjun!”

“What?” he said innocently. “You told me Heeseung Hyung is your boyfriend, and boyfriends are basically brothers, right?”

Heeseung bit back a laugh, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. “I mean, he’s not wrong.”

Minjun beamed, clearly proud of himself. “And when are you getting married? Can I be the ring boy? I’ll wear a suit!”

The office erupted into laughter, Chaewon and Jay practically falling out of their chairs.

“Minjun, we’re not—” you started, but Minjun wasn’t done.

“And after that, are you gonna have kids? Can I help name them? I think ‘Superman’ would be a good name if it’s a boy.”

Yuna choked on her coffee, while Heeseung leaned against your desk, absolutely loving the chaos. “Superman, huh? That’s a lot to live up to.”

“Stop encouraging him!” you hissed, swatting his arm.

Minjun, undeterred, turned to Heeseung. “You’ll marry her, right? You like her, don’t you?”

Heeseung crouched down again, grinning. “Of course I like her. But marriage is a big step, little guy.”

Minjun frowned, clearly unimpressed with that answer. “Well, hurry up. I want cake.”

That evening, after work, you and Heeseung walked Minjun home. He skipped ahead, humming to himself, clearly plotting your wedding and future children’s names in his head.

“I think your brother’s going to start planning the menu next,” Heeseung said, smirking.

You groaned. “He’s out of control. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I think it’s cute,” Heeseung said, bumping your shoulder with his. “Besides, he’s got good taste. You’d make a great wife.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. “Are you serious right now?”

Heeseung shrugged, his grin widening. “What? Can’t I be honest?”

You stared at him, flustered, before Minjun called from up ahead. “Hurry up, lovebirds! I don’t want to miss my cartoons!”

Laughing, Heeseung grabbed your hand and pulled you along.

Back at BrightSpark, life continued as it always had—only now, you and Heeseung were the unofficial couple everyone rooted for. You still bickered over small things, like who got to control the music during late-night work sessions or whose turn it was to grab coffee. But at the end of the day, it was clear to everyone that you were both undeniably happy.

Minjun, of course, took full credit for your relationship, often reminding anyone who would listen that he “made it happen.”

During one particularly busy afternoon, he visited the office yet again, walking straight up to Manager Kim and asking, “When are Noona and Heeseung Hyung getting married? They’re really slow.”

Manager Kim, barely holding back a laugh, turned to you and said, “You know, I think your brother might have a future in project management.”

Chaewon leaned over and whispered, “Or matchmaking.”

You groaned, but as you glanced over at Heeseung, who was busy playfully arguing with Minjun about superhero names, you couldn’t help but smile.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours—and that made it all the more special.

lmk if there are any mistakes and please like, reblog, and comment it is appreciated very much

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister - pt.9

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8

wordcount: 2926

The sunlight streaming through the blinds was sharp and unforgiving, waking you far earlier than you wanted. You shifted under the covers, the events of the night before flashing through your mind. Your stomach churned—not from the alcohol, but from the weight of what had happened.

You glanced over at Lando, still asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling steadily. He looked peaceful, his hair a mess against the pillow, and for a brief moment, you let yourself feel the warmth of it. But then guilt crept in, tightening around your chest. What the hell had you done? 

Slipping out of bed as quietly as you could, you grabbed some clothes and padded out into the kitchen. Coffee first, then… you’d figure out how to handle this.

“Morning,” Lando’s voice startled you, and you turned to see him leaning against the doorway, hair tousled, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. He looked way too good to be feeling even half the hangover you were feeling. 

“Oh, hey,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I was just making coffee. Want some?”

“Sure,” he said, raising his eyebrows, his eyes lingering on you for a beat too long.

The silence stretched as you busied yourself with the coffee machine. He didn’t move closer, didn’t sit down. You knew he was waiting for you to say something.

“Last night…” you began.

“Yeah?” he prompted, quick to reply.

“It was…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Sorry?”

“It’s just…” You hesitated, the words tumbling out. “So much alcohol. And the break-up. I wasn’t—I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”

His expression flickered, something guarded settling in his eyes. “Right... Yeah, of course. I’m sorry too”

Before either of you could say more, there was a loud knock on the door.

“Thank God,” you muttered under your breath, heading to open it.

Max stood there, looking like death warmed over, his sunglasses pushed up into his messy hair, more like you were feeling.

“Kill me,” he groaned, brushing past you and collapsing onto the couch.

“Good morning to you too,” Lando said, handing him a bottle of water from the fridge.

“What did we do last night?” Max asked, his voice muffled by the pillow he’d shoved his face into.

Lando smirked. “You challenged a group of strangers to a dance-off. And lost.”

“Tragic,” Max mumbled. He lifted his head slightly, squinting at you both. “Anyway, what are we watching?”

Before you could protest, he was scrolling through the options on your streaming service, settling on an over-the-top action flick.

You exchanged a glance with Lando, who gave you a small, almost imperceptible shrug before sitting down on the couch.

Max patted the cushion beside him. “Come on, both of you. Misery loves company.”

As the movie played, with Max sitting between you and Lando, you occasionally glanced over to Lando, whose eyes were glued to the TV. Max made his usual sarcastic comments, keeping the atmosphere light. On the outside everything looked exactly the same, but even as you laughed along, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t quite the same.

- The following months were a strange blur—a whirlwind of processing the breakup, diving into work, and navigating race weekends. Of course, you still went to the races. Skipping them would have been unthinkable, far too weird. But it felt different. You had decided to keep some distance from Lando, convinced it was the right thing to do. Maybe for him, maybe for you. You didn’t expect him to do the same. It wasn’t overt enough for anyone else to notice. To the untrained eye, nothing had changed. You were still at every race, still part of the usual group settings. But the small moments—the ones that used to belong to just the two of you—those were gone.

No impromptu meet-ups in random cities. No late-night texts or phone calls that had nothing to do with racing. The unspoken routine you’d fallen into over the years had quietly unraveled, and no one else seemed to notice. Lando was having the season of his life, the world around him growing brighter and louder with every race. Media attention surged, fans swarmed, and with the success came a revolving door of new people. Girls. Even Magui made an appearance again.

It all looked perfectly normal from the outside—like you were just giving him space to focus, like his rising stardom left no room for anything else. But you knew better. You felt the distance that had never been there before, even if no one else could see it.

Max noticed, of course. He was the one person who would. “You and Lando good?” he had asked one evening, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

You’d brushed it off with a shrug. “Just don’t love this side of F1,” you’d said vaguely, which wasn’t entirely untrue. You didn’t press further, and to your relief, neither did he. He seemed satisfied enough, happy, in fact, to have more of your time to himself.

The awkward radio silence between Lando and you was interrupted by the buzz of your phone. His name flashed on the screen. Surprised you picked up the phone.

“Hey,” 

“Hey…” he replied, his voice a touch uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure how to start.

There was a pause, and then he dove in. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something. I’m sorry to bother you with this—you can say no—but, um…” He hesitated, and you could almost hear him scratching the back of his neck through the phone.

“You know how I absolutely hated the FIA awards on my own last year?” he continued. “It was boring, long, and just... the worst. Thing is, you’re only allowed to bring a date, and I was wondering if you’d come with me. Reckoned you’d look better in photos than Max.”

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it. “So let me get this straight—this is an invite to a boring, long night that you hated? Wow, what a proposition.”

You heard his laugh on the other end of the line, warm and genuine. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds terrible. But yeah, basically.”

“You owe me for this.” you agreed.

“Big time,” he said, you could hear his grin through the phone.

— 16 december 2025

The invitation to the FIA awards came with more than just a request for your company. It came with a trip—this year, the gala was being held in Cape Town, South Africa. When Lando explained the logistics over the phone, you weren’t sure what surprised you more: that the event was happening on another continent or that McLaren had arranged for the team’s private jet to take you there.

When you arrived at the airstrip, the sight of the sleek McLaren jet against the orange and purple hues of the evening sky made your chest tighten with nerves.

“Finally,” Lando said, a playful grin spreading across his face as he spotted you. He was already dressed casually, a bag slung over one shoulder. “Thought you were going to ditch me.”

“I considered it,” you said with a smirk, adjusting the strap of your own bag.

Oscar appeared next, giving you a quick nod and a grin. “Looking forward to this?”

“Not particularly,” you admitted.

“Good. Neither am I.”

When you were all settled in the jet, it felt familiar. Traveling together like always, the years of friendship taking over, diminishing the awkward last few months.

“Let’s play?” Oscar asked, shuffling a deck of cards. “Lando taught me that complicated game you guys always play.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention. “Oh, really? That’s nice—let’s do it.”

Oscar grinned. “I like it, but I always lose when I play with Lando.”

“Of course you do,” you said with a laugh. “He probably cheats. He always does.”

“I don’t” Lando protested, though the smirk on his face wasn’t exactly convincing.

Oscar narrowed his eyes, glancing at the cards, coming to the realization. “Yeah, sure. That’s what someone who cheats would say.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Trust me, we don’t even count his wins anymore. It’s just embarrassing at this point.”

“Unbelievable,” Lando muttered, feigning outrage as he dealt the cards.

-

Arriving at the hotel, it was as luxurious as you’d expected, with marble floors and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city. Your rooms were adjacent, even though McLaren probably did the booking, it was a detail that shouldn’t have meant anything but somehow felt significant, having always shared rooms.

“You’ve got to see the view from my room,” Lando said, leaning against your doorframe with a grin.

“Maybe later, I’m sure it’s exactly the same, we gotta get ready” you replied, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered on you. 

-

The sound of a knock on your hotel room door pulled you from the mirror where you were applying the finishing touches to your makeup.

“Coming!” you called, carefully stepping into your heels before opening the door. Lando stood on the other side, already in his tuxedo, the bow tie slightly askew in a way that was annoyingly charming.

He opened his mouth to greet you, but the words caught in his throat as his eyes swept over your dress—a sleek black dress with a low back.

“You look… wow,” he finally managed, his voice lower than usual.

You felt your cheeks heat under his gaze. “Thanks. You look great too” He looked every bit the world champion he’d just become—poised, confident, yet still undeniably him.

“Yeah, but no one’s going to be looking at me tonight,” he said, his lips quirking into that familiar teasing smile. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to shake off the warmth. “Let’s go before you make us late.”

-

The ballroom was breathtaking. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting golden light onto the polished marble floor. Tables were adorned with elaborate centerpieces, and waiters weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne. It was a scene straight out of a fairytale, and for a moment, you felt like you didn’t belong.

Lando leaned closer as you both descended the grand staircase. “Forgot how glamorous this all is, didn’t you?”

“A little,” you admitted. “It’s easy to forget this is also your life.”

He grinned. “I’d trade this for a karting track any day.”

You both mingled, exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces. Zak Brown greeted you with a wide smile.

“Wow, look at you two,” Zak said, his tone teasing. “A proper power couple. Took you becoming world champion to finally get her as your date, huh?”

Lando’s cheeks turned pink, but he rolled with it. “Guess I had to up my game, huh?”

‘’Wow,” Max Verstappen said as he passed by, giving you an appraising look. “You look... different.”

“Thanks, Max,” you said dryly.

“No, I mean good,” he added quickly, looking mildly embarrassed. “Not like in the paddock, screaming your lungs out for McLaren.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lando shot back with a grin. “She’ll still be screaming for McLaren tonight.”

-

The formalities of the evening dragged on, speeches blending into one another as awards were handed out. You tried to keep up, but your attention waned as the night wore on.

Lando leaned closer during one particularly dry speech, whispering, “See how I was dying on my own last year?”

You stifled a laugh. “You poor thing.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan to make this bearable.”

It didn’t take long for you to discover his plan—a subtle drinking game he’d invented. Whenever the FIA would say how amazing the FIA is, you both took a sip of your drinks.

By the time the speeches ended, you were both giddy, the tension from the past few weeks melting into laughter.

-

As the night wore on, the drinking caught up with Lando. You were heading toward the restrooms when he groaned at the sight of the long men��s line, compared to an empty women’s, illustrative of the crowd at the event.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, glancing at the empty women’s restroom.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned.

But before you could stop him, he ducked inside.

“So this is what the women’s bathroom is like,” he said, looking around with mock appreciation. “Fancy.”

“It’s not a sightseeing tour,” you said, exasperated. “Hurry up.” 

He darted into a stall, leaving you to shake your head in disbelief. When he emerged moments later, you were washing your hands at the sink.

Lando leaned against the counter, his playful grin softening as he caught your gaze in the mirror. “Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“What?” you asked, not entirely sure where this was going.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone sincere. “I mean, with... everything? Dylan. The break up. Us.”

You paused, drying your hands slowly. “Why do you always wait until we’re in a bathroom to have serious conversations?”

“Maybe I like the acoustics,” he said, his grin returning briefly before fading again. “Seriously, though. Are we okay?”

The question hung in the air, the tension between you almost tangible.

“I...” You hesitated, not entirely sure how to answer. “I think so. Are you?”

His gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you before he nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

It wasn’t a resolution, but it was enough for now.

-

As the night wore on, the drinks kept flowing. You and Lando drifted back toward the crowd, laughing and joking with Max, Oscar, and a few others.

At one point, Christian Horner walked by, offering a polite nod. As he passed, Lando’s hand casually patted your bum.

“Lando?!” you hissed in shock, your voice low but sharp.

“What?” he replied, feigning innocence.

“We’re in public!”

“So? Is that the only reason I’m not allowed to do that?” he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You gave him a look, fighting the urge to smile.

-

The ride back to the hotel was a blur of laughter and lingering glances. The whole night together had forced some flashbacks from the previous night you spent together. Even though your mind had pushed it away, your body betrayed you, longing for the way it had felt—how good it had been.

You hesitated at your door, fumbling with the key card. Lando stood next to you, his hand resting lightly against the wall as he watched you.

“Goodnight,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of everything unsaid.

But instead of moving to his door, Lando took a step closer, his voice low. “You’re just going to leave me alone after a night like that?”

You turned to face him, the air between you charged with tension. “We’ve had a lot of champagne, Lando.”

His lips quirked into a small, playful smile. “Exactly. Perfect excuse for bad decisions.”

You tried to suppress a laugh, but his easy confidence had already disarmed you.

“Come on,” he added, his voice dipping lower. “We’re both thinking it.”

Your heart raced as you opened your door, stepping inside without a word. Lando followed, letting the door click shut behind him.

The room felt warmer, the air heavier with anticipation. You kicked off your heels, the plush carpet soft under your feet as you turned to face him.

“Lando...” you began, but your voice faltered as he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Tell me to go, and I will,” he murmured, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

But you didn’t.

When he kissed you, it wasn’t rushed like last time. It was slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every moment. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss. It was a contrast to the wildness of your last encounter—a quiet intensity that felt both overwhelming and grounding.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours. When his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw to your collarbone, your breath hitched, your fingers threading through his hair.

WN: This was a fun chapter to write!! Long one!! needed after the previous short one. My original story line has 10 chapters :((( But i think im going to continue it a bit longer, I love this story much and dont want to start a new story yet because I like this one too much. Excited to see a new interview of Lando, so cute how excited he talks about Quadrant, but am I the only one who questions his fashion choices sometimes?? The blazer quarter zip combo, I’m not sure. I don’t know why I’m so critical i love him and its not bad but idk hahaha.

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles@chaoswithus@motorsportloverf1 @therovanperaastonmartini@acesofspadess @widow-cevans @irisesinthegarden@ncrsbrg @f1fantasys @norrisainz33 @mayax2o07 @ipushhimback @milkysoop @annimausi

[little-jana]

“Perfectly Thought Out”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Words: 1.15k

Summary: Finding the perfect gift for Spencer was not easy, but you did it.

It had taken you weeks to figure out the perfect gift for Spencer Reid. Weeks of mental back and forth, second-guessing, and doubt. Because really, what do you give someone like Spencer? A man with an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and an endless well of knowledge? Someone who could rattle off obscure facts about obscure things before you’d even finished your coffee?

You’d been desperate to give him something thoughtful, something that wouldn’t just end up collecting dust on a shelf in his apartment. And you think you’d finally nailed it. Or at least, you hoped you had.

Now, standing in the BAU’s break room with a carefully wrapped box tucked under your arm, you felt your nerves kick in. This was the first chance you’d gotten to give him his present, and the anticipation was eating you alive.

“Hey,” his voice broke through your thoughts, soft but warm.

You turned to see him standing in the doorway, a slight smile tugging at his lips. His messenger bag was slung over one shoulder, and his scarf hung loosely around his neck, a hint of the autumn chill still clinging to him from outside.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “I, uh, have something for you.”

“For me?” His eyebrows lifted in surprise, his curiosity immediately piqued.

You nodded, holding out the box with both hands. “It’s… kind of a late birthday gift. I thought you might like it.”

Spencer set his bag down on the counter and took the box from you with the kind of care you’d use to handle something fragile. His long fingers brushed against yours briefly, and you tried not to think too much about the way it made your heart flutter.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said softly, his gaze flickering up to meet yours.

“I wanted to,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. “Just… open it.”

He hesitated for a moment, then carefully peeled back the wrapping paper, his movements methodical and deliberate. When he lifted the lid of the box, his breath hitched.

Inside was a leather-bound journal, hand-stitched and worn just enough to give it character. But it wasn’t just the journal itself that made it special. On the first page, you’d written a small note explaining that you’d already filled some of the pages with questions and prompts—things you thought he’d enjoy pondering or writing about. Things that would challenge him or make him smile.

And tucked into the back pocket of the journal was a collection of vintage fountain pens you’d spent weeks hunting down online, knowing how much he loved handwriting notes and letters.

He stared at the journal in stunned silence, his fingers gently tracing the cover. When he finally looked up at you, his eyes were wide and glistening.

“This is…” he trailed off, clearly struggling to find the words. “This is incredible.”

“Do you like it?” you asked nervously, biting your bottom lip.

“Like it?” he repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. “I love it. This is… I don’t even know what to say.”

You laughed softly, relief flooding through you. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted you to have something that felt like you. Something thoughtful.”

He opened the journal to the first page, his eyes scanning over the note you’d written. You watched as a small, almost shy smile spread across his face, and your chest tightened at how beautiful he looked in that moment.

“This is one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me,” he said, his voice quiet but full of emotion.

You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze. “I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you. You’re always so thoughtful with everyone else, Spencer. I figured it was time someone returned the favor.”

He set the journal down on the counter and stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Really. This means so much to me.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, your voice just as soft.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt charged, heavy with something unspoken. And then, just when you thought you might drown in the tension, he reached out and pulled you into a hug.

It wasn’t just any hug, though. It was the kind of hug that made you feel safe, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

“Thank you,” he murmured again, his voice muffled against your hair.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to savor the moment. “You’re welcome, Spencer.”

When he finally pulled back, there was a softness in his expression that you’d never seen before. It made your heart ache in the best way.

“Would you…” he hesitated, looking almost nervous. “Would you want to come over tonight? I’d love to show you how I use the journal. Maybe we could talk about some of the prompts together.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. But the hopeful look in his eyes made it impossible to say no.

“I’d like that,” you said, smiling softly.

The grin that spread across his face was worth every second of doubt you’d had while planning his gift. And as you left the break room, your heart felt a little lighter, knowing that you’d made Spencer Reid feel as special as he deserved to feel.

[nomie-11]

First Call Back

masterlist! | part 1 here!

synopsis: after your impromptu move to Piltover, not all of your solutions are solved, but you're finally together again, so maybe this could work out, right?

pairings: vi x reader, powder is lowkey reader's adoptive daughter

“I’m heading out early today, so don’t look for me when you wake up. Breakfast is in the fridge, Powder is At school, and I’ve started the laundry. Don’t forget that ‘how is Powder adjusting to fancy private school meeting’ is tomorrow at 7:00. I promise I’ll shower after work so I don’t scare off the teacher. See you later. Love you, babe.” 

—phone call from Vi to Y/n, September 3rd, 7:32 a.m.

—————

You hadn’t quite made up your mind about Piltover yet. Yes, you had already moved there, and what little belongings you had were already set and away in your new apartment, but Piltover was weird. 

You could tell Powder wasn’t entirely happy about it, too. You and Vi had lined up the move so that Powder would start fresh on her first day of her first year of high school. The two of you (and Caitlyn) had even taken Powder out to get some new clothes, and she appreciated it, but you knew when she wasn’t feeling great. 

It all came to a head when, one night for dinner, you were sitting across from Powder, Vi on your other side with her textbooks and notes spread out, headphones pulled securely down over her ears. 

“How was school today, baby?” you asked softly, looking up from your plate to her, sitting in the kitchen chair she had claimed as her own, her knees pulled into her chest. Her soft, violet blue eyes were rimmed red as she glanced at you. 

“It was fine,” she mumbled, using her fork to push around her food on her plate, immediately shifting her gaze back down. She hadn’t taken a single bite all night—something that used to be foreign, she always used to eat, purely off the knowledge that you had sacrificed something for her plate to be full. 

With a soft sigh, you reached across the table, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. 

“You’ll tell me when you want me to braid your hair, okay?” 

She just nodded, dropping her fork onto the plate and pushing it towards you. “Thanks for dinner.” 

—————

“Did Powder tell you what’s going on? Those fancy Piltover assholes have been bullying her—saying she’s too skinny, that her hair is weird. They took her sketchbook today and started tearing out pages. When she got home from school, she just went straight to her room, didn’t even say hi. I had to force her to tell me when she finally grabbed a snack and took one of your high protein, high calorie bars that she hates.”

—phone call from Y/n to Vi, September 28th, 4:39 p.m.

—————

The walls of the apartment were a sterile white. Powder originally was excited to decorate them with you, but the excitement had fizzled out as quickly as it came. Boxes still sat unopened in the corner of her room, her sketches and art supplies untouched. The bright posters you’d picked out to liven up the place remained rolled up on her desk. She spent most of her time curled up on her bed, headphones in, drowning out the world. 

It hurt to see her like this. Powder had always been the spark, the light in the darkest days. Now, her spark seemed dimmed, weighed down by the move, the new school, and the unfamiliar faces that didn’t bother to understand her. 

That night, as you were tidying up the kitchen, you heard her soft footsteps approach. Powder hovered at the edge of the room, her arms wrapped around herself, looking smaller than ever. 

“Hey, baby,” you said, wiping your hands on a towel. “What’s up?”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the floor. Then, barely above a whisper, she said, “Can I… can I have some juice?”

“Of course,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light as you moved to the fridge. “You want your usual cup and straw too?”

She nodded, still not meeting your eyes. You grabbed the juice in silence, the quiet punctuated only by the soft click of Powder’s favorite cup against the metal of her straw. When it was ready, you placed the cup in front of her at the table, sitting down across from her. 

For a moment, she just stared at the mug, her hands cradling it for warmth. Then, she took a shaky breath and said, “I miss home.” 

Your heart clenched. “I know, baby,” you said softly. “It’s okay to miss it. This is a big change.” 

She nodded again, her eyes glassy. “It’s just… everything’s different here. The school, the kids, they don’t get me.” 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, reaching out to take her hand. “I”m sorry I can’t fix this for you, but you don’t have to go through this alone, okay? Me and Vi—we’re here for you. Always.” 

Powder sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. Then, out of nowhere, she murmured, “Thanks, mom.” 

The words hit you like a freight train. Your breath caught, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her. Powder didn’t even seem to realize what she’d said, her focus still on the mug in her hands. 

—————

“I don’t think she even knows she did it on purpose. But it still hit me, Y/n. Like I’ve been trying so hard to make things better, to be there, and she… she doesn’t even see me like that. I guess I deserve it. I left her.” 

—phone call from Vi to Y/n, September 29th, 12:14 a.m.

—————

The next morning, Vi wasn’t at the breakfast table. Powder had barely touched her cereal, her spoon stirring it listlessly. You decided against pushing her to eat more; the last thing she needed was added pressure. 

“Vi’s still upset, huh?” Powder asked, her voice small. 

“She’s just tired, baby,” You said, sitting down beside her. “She loves you so much, Powder. You know that, right?” 

Powder nodded, but her eyes stayed downcast. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” 

“I know,” you murmured, brushing a strand of her soft blue hair behind her ear. “It’s just… complicated. She’s trying to figure out how to be what you need. And sometimes, it’s easier for her to feel like she’s not enough.” 

Powder looked up at you then, eyes wide. “But she is. She’s enough.” 

“I think she needs to hear that from you,” you said gently. 

—————

“Can you come home? Powder feels like shit, and I know you said you’re going for a run and I shouldn’t wait up for you, but I need to talk to you tonight.”

—phone call from Y/n to Vi, October 12th, 11:23 p.m.

—————

Powder had already gone to bed when Vi finally came through the door, her face flushed from a run that went on for longer than was originally planned. You were sitting on the couch, nursing a cup of tea, waiting for her. 

“Hey,” you said softly. 

“Hey,” she replied, toeing off her shoes. She didn’t sit beside you, instead heading for the kitchen to grab a glass of water. 

“You can’t just keep running away,” you said, your voice calm but firm. 

Vi froze mid-pour. “I’m not running,” she said after a moment, her tone defensive. 

“Yes, you are,” you said, setting your tea down on the counter. “Powder needs you right now. She feels terrible about what happened, Vi. And honestly? So do I.”

Vi turned to face you, her jaw tight. “Why would you feel terrible? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Because I should’ve seen this coming,” you said, standing up. “I should’ve talked to you about how she sees me, about how much she relies on me when you’re not around. This wasn’t fair to either of you.” 

Vi’s shoulders slumped, her anger deflating. “I just… I wanted to fix things,” she said, her voice cracking. “I wanted her to see me as her sister again, not some stranger who shows up every now and then.” 

“She does,” you said, stepping closer, resting your hand on her arm. “But Vi, you can’t force her to heal overnight. She’s grown up. She’s changed.” 

Vi’s eyes filled with tears, and she set the glass down with a shaky hand, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face in her shoulder. “I’m not cut out for this,” she whispered. 

“You are,” you said firmly, wrapping your arms around her. “We’ll figure this out.”

—————

“I helped Powder with her art project last night. We stayed up until midnight cutting out tiny stars because Powder didn’t like how hers turned out. It was the first time I’ve seen Powder smile in weeks. I think… I think we might be okay.” 

—phone call from Vi to Caitlyn Kiramman, October 17th, 10:22 a.m.

—————

The next week, the three of you went out for ice cream. It wasn’t much—just a quick trip to a small shop down the block—but it felt like a turning point. Powder clung to Vi’s arm the whole way there, her sketchbook tucked under her other arm. Vi didn’t let go once, even holding the door open with her foot. 

As you sat at a table, Powder flipping through her drawings to show Vi her latest ideas, you caught a glimpse of the sister Vi had been before everything had fallen apart. She laughed at Powder’s jokes, teased her about her favorite colors, and even let Powder draw on her arms around her tattoos.

“Maybe you should get it tattooed,” Powder said with a smile, pulling back her marker to give you a clear view of the intricate lines of flowers crawling up Vi’s mechanical ink. 

Vi grinned. “You think so? Maybe we can get matching ones someday.” 

Powder’s eyes lit up. “Really?” 

“Totally,” Vi said, ruffling her hair. 

You watched them, your chest tight with a mix of relief and undying love. For the first time since the move, things felt… okay.

—————

“I saw Powder hug Vi today. Like, really hug her—not one of those quick, awkward ones. She clung to her, just like she used to. Vi cried when she thought I wasn’t looking.” 

—phone call from Y/n to Caitlyn Kiramman, October 28th, 7:48 p.m.

—————

Powder and Ekko had claimed the living room, their laughter spilling into the kitchen where you and Vi were cleaning up after dinner. Powder’s sketchbook and Ekko’s toolbox—filled with small scraps of metal and wires—were spread out on the coffee table, and you could hear them trading ideas for some kind of contraption they wanted to build together. 

“They’re loud, but I’m not complaining,” Vi said, drying a plate. 

“Neither am I,” you said with a soft smile, handing her another dish to dry. “She’s never had a friend like him before.”

Vi glanced over her shoulder at the two teens, her expression softening. “She deserves to have someone like him. Someone who gets it.” 

“Yeah, she does,” you agreed, turning back to the sink. “Genius and madness. Let’s just hope they don’t blow up the apartment.” 

Vi snorted, leaning on the counter beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. “If they do, at least we know Powder will find a way to fix it.” 

You chuckled, glancing over at the living room. Powder was laughing now, a real, uninhibited laugh that filled the apartment with a warmth you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. Ekko was gesturing wildly, clearly explaining some grand idea, and Powder was nodding along, her now short blue hair bobbing with enthusiasm. 

“She’s totally doing better,” Vi said quietly, her eyes on her sister. 

“She is,” you replied, reaching for her next dish. 

Vi’s hand covered yours, stilling your movement. “Thanks for sticking with us,” she said, her voice low but sincere. “I don’t say it enough, but I don’t know what we’d do without you.” 

You squeezed her hand, your heart swelling. “You don’t have to thank me, Vi. I love you both too much for you to ever have to know what you’d do without me.” 

The sound of something crashing in the living room snapped both of your heads toward the noise. Powder and Ekko froze, their eyes wide as they looked at the overturned coffee table and the scattered parts of their project. 

“Uh… we can fix it!” Powder blurted, already scrambling to gather the pieces. 

Vi groaned, running a hand over her face. “I stand by what I said. They’re definitely blowing up the apartment.”

You laughed, grabbing a towel to clean up the spilled juice. “At least they’re having fun doing it.” 

Vi smirked, shaking her head. “They’re lucky they’re cute.” 

—————

“Hey, Cait. I know I’m running late for our lab, I swear I’m on my way—I just got a little held up at home. So much is going on. Powder’s smiling more, and she’s made this friend—a kid named Ekko—just moved here from Zaun with his adoptive father. They’ve been hanging out at our place, and for once I don’t feel like I’m walking on eggshells around her. 

And Y/n just applied to Piltover University for night classes. Can you believe it? She’s so nervous, but I know she’s gonna crush it. I told her I’d help with whatever she needs. Anyways, I’m on my way! Don’t wait for me.” 

—phone call from Vi to Caitlyn Kiramman, November 4th, 11:14 a.m.

—————

The day your acceptance letter arrived, Vi practically tackled you in excitement. 

“I told you!” She crowed, spinning you around the kitchen. “I told you you’d get in!”

”Vi, put me down!” You laughed, trying to wriggle free. 

“No way! This is huge, Y/n!” She said, finally setting you down but not letting go of your hands. “You’re going to college! You’re going to kill it. I’m so proud of you.” 

You blinked back tears, your chest tightening at the pride shining in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have even applied if it wasn’t for you.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Vi said, pulling you into a hug. “You did this. And I can’t wait for study dates, and walking you to and from class, and complaining about professors together, and—”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I haven’t enrolled yet, Vi. Deep breaths.”

—————

“I booked a reservation at that fancy rooftop place Caitlyn told us about. I figured we deserve a night out, just us. Ekko’s staying over with Powder—don’t worry, Benzo is cool with it. So… wear that dress I like, okay? I want to show you off a little.” 

—phone call from Vi to Y/n, 

—————

The rooftop restaurant was beautiful, lit by strings of fairy lights that twinkle like stars. Vi had somehow snagged a table near the edge (she name-dropped Caitlyn Kiramman and the hostess got nervous), where you could see all of Piltover stretched out below you. She looked good—too good—in her black button-up, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off her tattoos and rippling muscles. 

“You clean up nice,” you teased, sipping your wine that tasted like a week’s worth of groceries. 

“You’re one to talk,” she shot back, her eyes shamelessly roamed over you. “That dress is illegal. I should arrest you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That line’s terrible. You shouldn’t take pickup lines from an enforcer-in-training.” 

“But it worked, didn’t it?” She said with a smug grin. 

The night passed in a blur of laughter and soft touches, a reminder of the easy connection you’d had before life got so hard. For the first time since you graduated and she moved to Piltover, you felt like a couple again-not just two people trying to hold everything together. 

As you walked home, Vi slipped her hand into yours, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier in the evening. The streets were quieter now, the usual hustle of Piltover replaced by the soft hum of distant conversations and the occasional buzz of an airship overhead. 

“You know,” Vi started, her voice thoughtful, “for two kids trying to figure out how to raise another kid, we didn’t do too bad.” 

You smiled, squeezing her hand. “We did a pretty good job, actually. Powder is turning out great. She’s like this because of you, you know.” 

“Us,” she corrected, her gaze earnest. “Powder would’ve run for the hills if it was just me.” 

“You’re underselling yourself,” you said, nudging her shoulder. “You're a great big sister. She knows that now.” 

Vi’s lips quirked into a soft smile, her free hand brushing over her short hair. “I guess I’ll take the compliment. But I hope you know you’re the glue. Powder and I just cling to you.” 

The sincerity in her voice made your heart ache in the best way. “I do. I know.” 

The building loomed ahead, its familiar stone facade dimly lit under the streetlights. As you reached the doorway, Vi stopped, turning to face you fully. Her hands found your waist, pulling you just a little closer, her thumb brushing absentmindedly over the fabric of your dress. 

“I meant what I said earlier,” she murmured, her voice loud. “And I’m so proud of you. Not just for tonight—for everything. Going to college, always working so hard for Powder, you’ve been carrying all of us, and you make it look so effortless. And I don’t tell you enough how much I… love you.” 

The words were warm and steady, her familiar cadence grounding you in a way that nothing else could. “You don’t have to. I feel it every day.” 

Her smile softened, her eyes searching yours in the quiet of the moment. Then, slowly, she leaned in, her lips brushing yours with a tenderness that took you back to the first time you kissed on the roof of her dad’s old apartment building. You melted into her touch, your hands sliding up to rest against her chest, to feel the steady beat of her heart beneath your fingertips. 

The kiss deepened, a slow, deliberate exchange of all the things words couldn’t express. When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, Vi rested her forehead against yours, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Let’s go home.” 

And with her hand still tightly around yours, you did. 

—————

“Hey, Pow! Don’t forget to set your alarm! I need you distracting her all day tomorrow so I can get the apartment ready. Time to propose!”

—phone call from Vi to Powder, June 13th, 1:43 a.m.

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[boybandbaby]

Best of My Life (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Non-BAU!Reader)

guess this is a 5 times hotch let’s the team see his relationship

word count: 1676

warnings: unspecified brutal case, alcohol, tattoos, established relationship, axes, sweet!hotch

note: the bar scene is from my favorite scene in one of my favorite movies check it out here (all credits to the movie) frank farmer gives me hotch vibes

tag: @bernelflo based on your request though I did go off track I’m so sorry I tried my best

1️⃣

Hotch finally got a break from the team’s badgering after they met you. Well kind of. While they finally got to see you and meet you in person, they were still curious about your relationship and dynamic.

Once Penelope asked if you had met Jack yet, Hotch wouldn’t shut up about you two.

“Oh my god, he’s worse than Spencer.” Derek shook his head, leaning against his desk as he watched Hotch tell the girls another story about you. Something about you being good with an axe.

“Hey!” Spencer yelped.

When Hotch introduced you to Jack for the first time, you’d all went axe throwing. You picked the activity not wanting Jack to think you were boring. Jack ended up loving it and loving you.

Spencer’s mouth gaped as he watched Hotch pull his phone out to show the girls a video of you and him taken by Jack during that date. While Jack’s teenager instincts told him it was gross, he thought it was nice to see his dad so sweet so he recorded it. The video showed you pressed up against Hotch’s back as you moved his arm in the correct position to throw the axe. You kissed his cheek and gave Aaron space to throw the axe and for your safety. When Aaron hit the target, you cheered and clapped your hands. “Your dad isn’t too bad, huh Jack?” You stated before the video ended.

Hotch tucked the phone away before heading back up into his office.

“I would never have thought Hotch would be sharing his private life with us.” JJ smiled into her mug.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Penelope sighed, dreamily. “They’re so cute together. Oh shoot, he forgot his coffee.”

Penelope picked up the black travel mug adorned with “best boyfriend ever” in cursive on the side.

“Look!” JJ pointed at the words. “He’s so whipped!”

Penelope took the cup up to his office not bothering to knock. “Here Hotch, wouldn’t want you to forgot that you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” Hotch smiles, doesn’t even comment on her light teasing.

2️⃣

While away on a case, the team noticed Hotch had stepped away to answer a phone call. Assuming it was work related they didn’t say anything until 10 minutes later, he still hadn’t come back.

“You think he’s okay?” Emily asked.

“Let’s go check on him.” Derek urges.

Much to their surprise. Hotch is seated in an empty room, legs kicked up on the table, leaned back, and phone to his ear.

While he’s happy to hear from you and listen to you ramble about your day, he does know there’s a case to be solved and an unsub to be stopped. There’s a sparkle in his eye though his lips aren’t smiling. He wouldn’t want anyone to see him smiling during a case so brutal and get the wrong idea.

Derek and Emily hear snippets of his side of the conversation.

So, you took him to the zoo and aquarium? You’re spoiling him too much.

I know I wish I was there with you both

Where are you going to dinner? Use my credit car. It’s in my nightstand

When I get back, how about we go to that spa you’ve been talking about? We can get a couples massage

Why wait until Valentine’s Day when we can go now?

Okay, we’ll stop by the pie shop on our way back. I’ve got to head back the team is probably looking for me.

I love you.

Hotch looks up to see the amused faces of his two agents.

He stands from the chair and straightens his tie. “Sorry about that, y/n has been calling me to make sure I take at least 10 minutes a day for myself during cases. She says I’ve been working too hard.”

“Happiness looks nice on you, Hotch.” Derek states and it’s definitely not his normal teasing.

3️⃣

When they’re back in the office and it’s a paperwork day, the team decides to order in for lunch.

Penelope knocks on his door to get his order and sees he’s already eating. “Already got lunch, sir?”

“Yes, y/n made this incredible meal last night and packed me some for lunch. Come give it a try.” He pulls out a spoon from his lunchbox. Garcia internally squeals. Her boss, Aaron Hotchner has a lunch box. She can see that it’s a plain black lunchbox. On the right side there’s a small net holding a few napkins, a set of reusable utensils, and a folded sheet of binder paper with ‘A <3’ on it. On the right side, there’s an open Tupperware with some chicken, rice, and vegetable dish. There’s a granola bar, bottle of water and cup of yogurt.

Garcia approaches the desk as Hotch scoops a little bit of everything on the spoon and hands it to her. He continues eating as he reads a document on his desk. Garcia hands him back the spoon and agrees at how tasty it is. She leaves Hotch alone to enjoy his home cooked meal.

4️⃣

Hotch laid on his right side, propped on one elbow and feet crossed at the ankle. You sat on the same lounge chair in front of him but facing away. Hotch had his free hand rubbing at the lower half of your back while you talked to JJ and Will about the concert you and Aaron had went to last weekend.

“You should’ve seen him! I mean I didn’t know the frozen margaritas would get him so drunk!” You laughed. “Aaron danced and sang the whole time.”

“I really liked the music.” He shrugged. You had introduced him to one of your favorite bands and he had gotten you tickets.

“I had to massage his knees the next day.” You laugh. “Poor baby was so sore.”

“I was more than sore. I was in pain.” He smiles. “Not to mention we had gotten tattoos that day.”

Record scratch. The other members of the team pause their separate conversations to inquire more.

“You got a tattoo?” Garcia squealed.

“Nothing too flashy.” He smiles, “something tasteful.”

“Well let’s see it!” Emily gushes.

You show them your leg, a small ‘AH’ in something similar to Times New Roman inked onto the back of your left ankle.

Aaron sits up, rolls his sleeves up, and shows his forearms. On the right is a small ‘J’ and on the other side in the same font, your initial, etched just below his elbow crease. He wanted something he could cover during work, like he said, nothing too flashy.

“That’s insane.” Spencer mumbles. “I am actually speechless.”

“Very tasteful, Aaron.” Dave raises his drink to Aaron.

5️⃣

You’d been invited by Hotch to join an after work outing to get some drinks.

Hotch and Dave stood at the bar, discussing Rossi’s upcoming vacation plans. Hotch listens but keeps his eyes on you. Partially for safety reasons but mainly because he loves looking at you.

While you dance with the girls, twirling and smiling, a woman slowly comes up to him.

“Hi.” She says breathy and sultry.

Aaron takes a sip of his drink, his eyes barely flickering to the woman before narrowing back on you. You throw your head back and grip Emily’s bicep as you laugh at a particularly raunchy dance move from Penelope.

Aaron thinks, just ignore her and she’ll go away. She unfortunately doesn’t get the message and squeezes herself between Dave and Aaron.

“I couldn’t help but notice how handsome you are.” The woman coos as she begins to press her body into Hotch’s side. “I’ve been watching you all night from across the room.”

“Why don’t you go back there and keep watching.” Aaron roughly pulls his arm so it’s not touching the woman. She’s taken aback and rushes back to where she’d come from, clearly embarrassed and humiliated.

“Brutal, Aaron.” Rossi laughs.

“Not interested, Dave.” Hotch meets his eyes.

“Clearly.” Rossi nods his head in your direction. Aaron’s eyes turn back just as you’re approaching.

You’re not quite drunk but not quite tipsy either as you stumble towards him. “Hi handsome!”

“Hi honey.” He sets his drink on the table and his hands immediately find your hips.

“Did you see Penelope? Her moves attracted a new friend.” You laugh and turn in his arms to watch Penelope and said new friend, Willard. Aaron’s not shy in pulling your back into his chest. You willingly lean back into his chest.

Aaron follows your gaze as he watches an older man, white hair with a big cowboy hat and boots spin Penelope around. It’s all just fun, nothing serious.

“You know, I’d like to see you in a cowboy hat. Bet you’d look real good.” You state.

“Me? In a big hat like that?” He chuckles. “I don’t think so.”

“No? Maybe those dark blue jeans I like on you but no shirt.”

“You want me to be a shirtless cowboy? That’s way too out of character for me.”

“What if you wear a flannel but not an undershirt? You can keep some of your modesty while keeping me satisfied.” You pull his arms around your stomach and run your fingertips through his arm hair. Yes, he decided to wear a short sleeve shirt to the bar just for you because you told him he has “delicious arms.”

“That sounds like a reasonable compromise.” He whispers into your ear.

“If I could persuade you to wear all that, can I persuade you into a dance with me?” You turn back to him, giving him the best puppy eyes you can with the tips Jack gave you. Jack swore that if you pout your bottom lip just a smidge and force a bit of tears in your eyes, Aaron gives in immediately.

“Only if you do that move Penelope did before.”

“Aaron!” You gasp. “I didn’t know you could be so dirty!”

“You have your fantasies and I have mine.” He winks before taking the lead to pull you onto the dance floor.

[grandline-fics]

Hello! I just found your blog and I am reading everything that you have (while working🤐)

I have to say I am in love with your writing. You are amazing, can't put the phone down.

I would love to be in the tag list for everything that you will write in the future.

Also if you don't mind can I ask for the Promp "Conforting Kisses" where the reader had a nightmare of the getting badly hurt and they give them kisses to forget maybe?

If you can do it for Luffy, Ace and Shanks I will be thankful for ever. If you don't want to write it is okey💕

Hope you have a great day! 💕

Thank you again for writing💕💖

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Comforting Kisses

WARNINGS:  descriptions of injury, mentions of death. slight angst. hurt to comfort

CHARACTERS: Luffy, Shanks

WORDS: 1,340

A/N: Thank you so much for your support and this request! I made a mistake and mis-read it to think you wanted the reader to do the comforting. I also only managed to get something for Luffy and Shanks for this but I hope this is still to your liking and you enjoy how it turned out.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

LUFFY

He was so much stronger than he had been when you first met and joined him on the crew. Luffy had spent two years under Rayleigh’s instruction to ensure he’d never lose anyone else close to him again. So now why was he staring in horror, completely helpless and unable to intervene as you were overwhelmed by multiple heavy hitting opponents he’d defeated in the past. Each one got hit after hit on you, ignoring Luffy’s yells for them to leave you alone. As strong as a fighter as you were normally you were no match against these monsters striking all at once. You didn’t even seem to notice Luffy as he screamed and struggled to get to you. The Captain could only watch as your attackers fell back into shadows while you fell to your knees as a wave of Magellan’s poison and Akainu’s magma came crashing over you.

Luffy awoke with a shuddering gasp, limbs locked tightly and body trembling as the cold sweat broke over his skin. With every rapid breath he took, the images he’d just detached himself from flashed in his mind in the dark. Every desperate gulp of air just brought more of a panic, drawing him back to the darkest, lowest point in his life when he’d realised he was weak and couldn’t save his brother. What would he do if he lost you? Before a new panic could set in, he caught the sound of soft footsteps approaching. Immediately he was out of bed and approaching the door, opening it before you could even knock. “Oh, couldn’t sleep either Lu-”

Before you could finish your question, Luffy had his arms out like a shot and pulled you against him. Laying his head against your chest the sound of your heartbeat finally began to ground him, rooting him in reality and not the horrible nightmare that still clung to him. You’d initially tensed at the hug Luffy drew you into, not because of it being unexpected-it wasn’t given how affectionate he was with everyone-but because of how timid he seemed. This wasn’t a usual Luffy hug, filled with warmth and happiness. As you wrapped your arms around his shoulders you could feel the tremor in his frame and took note of how every so often his arms would try to pull you closer. Angling one hand you settled your finger’s against the back of his head, moving in gentle motions to help him relax from whatever nightmare he’d clearly had. 

Lightly you pressed a kiss against the top of Luffy’s head, a small smile tugging at your lips when Luffy slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze. It was reassuring to see he seemed more himself albeit still a little shaken. “Can you do that again? Felt nice.”

“Sure.” Leaning forward you pressed a longer but just as gentle kiss against his forehead, your smile growing to hear and feel Luffy’s body relax from the comforting action. You pulled back to watch him carefully. “Ready to go back to bed? I can stay with you if it helps.”

Unsurprisingly Luffy’s gaze hardened at the suggestion. He was tired, he wasn’t going to lie but at the same time he hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to have that nightmare all over against your offer of staying helped him greatly. 

Together you moved back into Luffy’s room and lay down in the bed. Taking naps with Luffy was never anything new but since starting a relationship with him this was the first time you were going to spend the night in his bed. As much as you didn't like the circumstances that led to this but you couldn’t deny how right it felt to lie in Luffy’s arms, pressing comforting kisses against his head as he fell asleep to keep his nightmares away. 

SHANKS

Shanks knew this image well. Loguetown’s town square filled to the brim of people, their heads turned towards the towering execution block and awaiting the procession to appear on the top podium. Overhead thick grey clouds quickly swept in and darkened the clear morning, rain falling heavily as the winds began to shriek. Shanks lifted his arm to shield his eyes, his gaze firmly on the Marines who appeared. Your name was shouted out for the audience to hear and immediately Shanks’ body froze when the two Marines stepped aside and you were roughly shoved onto your knees. 

Your body looked so frail and small on top of the execution block. Even from where he stood he could see the bruises and cuts against your body as you knelt, hands held firmly by the heavy iron shackles and chains. Shanks quickly began to push through the crowd, trying to get to you but for every person he moved out of his way more replaced them. No, this couldn’t be happening. While the two Marines drew their weapons in preparation of what was to come, another stepped forward to begin calling out the charges. 

“You have been found guilty for aiding and abetting, harbouring, and consorting with known Pirate Emperor Red Hair Shanks on multiple accounts spanning years. For this clear defection of the World Government’s rule and repeated alliance with dangerous criminals we can only treat you as a pirate and deem only one punishment is suitable; death.” Over the pelting rain and thunder, Shank’s yell for you was swallowed and you defeatedly hung your head. Your eyes slid closed as you waiting the swinging of the blades, arcing straight for you. 

Shanks woke sharply, a deep pit of ice twisting painfully in his stomach as his heart thundered loudly in his ears. It was so incredibly rare for Shanks to feel powerless or weak, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a nightmare and any that came to mind paled in comparison to what he’d just seen. He’d never allow any harm to come to you, in all the years he’d known you and loved you he’d made sure the Marines and any pirate rivals he had knew nothing about you. Glancing down he saw you sleeping peacefully against his chest. Logic told him you were fine, you were safe. He could feel your warmth and feel your soft breath against his skin but still it couldn’t replace the images of your beaten body about to be put to death. 

Knowing it was irrational and stupid, he couldn’t help himself. Lightly he spoke your name and gently shook your shoulder. Immediately you stirred, a hum of sleep thickened confusion breaking from your lips. Shifting so you were on your stomach you blinked through the haze and looked to Shanks in sleepy concern, knowing he’d never wake you unless it was necessary. “Shanks? What’s wrong?”

“Sorry love, really I am.” Shanks explained softly, letting his fingers gently move in soothing patterns against your skin. Seeing you awake and hearing your voice already doing wonders to dispel the hurt his subconsciousness had created. “Had a bad nightmare. Just needed you.”

Immediately your gaze sharpened enough and you nodded in understanding. It wasn’t often but anytime you had a nightmare and Shanks was there he’d wake and be there with you until you’d calmed. Now it was your turn. 

Slowly you pulled yourself up and inched closer. With a feather-light touch you pushed the stray strands of red hair from his face before caressing his jaw. Leaning in you pressed sweet, caring kisses against his face. You started at his eyes, paying close attention to his scars before moving to his temple, then the bridge of his nose, his cheeks before finally settling your lips against Shanks’ pulling him into a deep, tender kiss, clearing the remnants of his nightmare away. Breaking apart you lay your forehead against Shanks’, smiling when he lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing your wrist, a clear sign he was becoming more like his usual self. “When the crew and I leave this time, you want to come with me?”

——————————————-

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[jinnie-ret]

make you feel my love

stray kids x ninth member! reader

genre: angst, fluff at the end

content warnings: death (not skz or reader), reason for death not mentioned

word count: 3.2k

summary: the boys help and rescue their fellow member through one of the hardest things she's had to do, all over again - grieve.

requested by: @lieslovefantasy

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤 MAIN MASTERLIST

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“Have you got everything?” Hyunjin fussed over you, wanting to make sure you were fully packed, knowing how forgetful you were.

“Yes, I'm sure, it's okay,” you chuckled, finding his concern over your organisation quite endearing.

“We've got to check these things, knowing you,” Changbin came up from behind, patting your head affectionately.

“You two are acting like concerned parents,” Felix laughed, standing between Chan and Hyunjin, the three of them being the only ones to stay behind at their respective apartments during the scheduled break before comeback. They would get lonely, surely?

Or so you thought.

“Yah, Felix, Jisungie just told me that you're using our apartment to host? Since when?” Seungmin groaned, carry on bag in hand as he approached, the others behind him with grins on their faces.

“I've always wanted to host! It'll be fun,” Felix rolled his eyes at Seungmin playfully, knowing he meant well.

“I don't want paint everywhere.”

“Okay.”

“And don't burn our apartment down.”

“You love my brownies.”

“And Chan don't- umm, there's nothing to really say, you don't do anything wrong,” Seungmin began, not having something to hold over the leader of your group.

“Aw, thanks, I loveeee you Seungmin-”

“You're responsible and old so…”

“Ah, there it is,” Chan sighed in disappointment, his taunting smile quickly dropping from his face.

“Yah! Is this your suitcase? Have you snuck our whole apartment in here or what?” Changbin complained, lifting your large suitcase into Minho's car. And that was saying something, considering he was the strongest in the group.

“I need options!” you fiddle with the strings of your hoodie.

“So you're bringing your wardrobe with you? Even I haven't packed that much,” Jeongin's eyes widened when he noticed the size of your suitcase. Poor guy was in for a long journey home tomorrow all the way down to Busan. You were only off to Gimpo with Minho. Not as far in comparison.

“We’ve known forever how indecisive they are,” Minho shut the boot of the car, turning around with a slight quirk of the lips.

“This will be a fun car journey,” you deadpan.

“You can always walk,” Minho shrugged.

“Or you could sit on the top of the car and hold on tightly. That would be kinda fun,” Jisung mused with an excited look in his eyes.

“I'm not doing that.”

“They're not doing that.”

“Aw you do care!” you wrap your arms around Minho and jostle him about a bit until he gets fed up and steps away.

“Woah! If I did that I'd be tasting tissues for the foreseeable future!” Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief.

“Okay, we're not starting this now, they're going to be late in meeting their families again,” Chan quickly intervened, being the first to start a large round of hugs.

And with that, you all said your goodbyes. You mentally prepared yourself for the lonesome feeling that would soon overcome you the instant you set foot in Gimpo. It was never nice, never pleasant nor fun saying goodbye to the guys. Even if it was just for a couple of weeks, you knew you'd have to find something to occupy your time to prevent your mind from wandering.

When you finally left the chaos that seemed to follow you and your fellow members, you peacefully sat in the passenger's seat next to Minho as he drove, watching a flurry of trees rush past. Well, that's what you always liked to imagine, nature running away so that you could have a moment to yourself, stagnant with no worries on your mind. Although, it was hard to feel worried at all when you had Minho cutely singing along to Yoasobi in that soft, soothing voice of his.

“Maccas?” Minho suddenly asked, glancing at your distracted form out of the corner of his eye as he tried to focus on the road.

“Maccas?” you suddenly giggled at the word, “Did Felix and Chan teach you that?”

“Ah, Hyunjinnie started saying it I think,” Minho hummed in thought, the honorary Aussie coming to mind. He made a turn for the fast food restaurant nonetheless, just in case you did want some food. He was right.

“This kimchi burger is unreal,” your eyes practically bulged out in delight as you ate in content.

“Better than your mum's bulgogi?” Minho teased, but it made you pause at the thought. You really did miss her food.

“Nothing beats her bulgogi, you know that,” you smiled weakly. Perhaps Minho would have caught onto your solemn tone if not for the mixed playlist of hyperpop and Japanese pop in the background.

“Yeah, you use her recipe enough times. So do I though, it's really good,” Minho acknowledges with a smile.

“The taste of home,” you add on, gaze drifting back outside as you finish your food, watching a child and their parents with their hands intertwined, swinging them with each step. You missed the innocence you once held, ignorantly blissful in moments of pure joy. You'd give anything to have that again.

“You packed a lot,” Minho mentioned casually.

“Yeah the others already pointed that out…?” you questioned his statement, not knowing what he was getting at.

“Like I said, it's good to have options,” you shrugged, pulling at your hoodie strings to feel more snug and secure. You panicked internally.

“You could just wash them at home though,” Minho smirked, finding your reasoning to be making your life more difficult, when really it was the best option you had if you didn't want to be paying to use a launderette.

“Options,” you said one word and left it at that.

Minho simply shrugged but remained quiet, suspicious of this slightly tense persona you were now presenting. Soon enough, however, you were back in Gimpo, your designated location for when it came to having breaks. You were going to stay at your apartment you shared with Changbin and Hyunjin, but you didn't want to have any questions to answer. Especially today, it made sense for you to pay homage, in a sense.

“Oh, Min, can you drop me off here?” you sat up more, realising you were close.

“Here?” he paused, not driving of course, but in his karaoke.

“Yeah I'm meeting my family for lunch,” you replied, pointing out a left turning down a street you had walked many times before.

“Oh who with?”

“I just said, Minho, my family.”

It was a hard word to say, family, because in your heart you knew the only family you had left were the boys. When you lived a lie for this long, eight years deep, maybe more if you included your trainee years, pretending to see people who only existed in photos, memories and dreams was doing you more damage than you'd ever like to admit.

“Your mum? Dad? Me and the others want to meet them some day, you know? It would be nice to finally try the famous bulgogi from the chef herself,” Minho grinned playfully as he found a car park to drop you off in.

She made the best food, your mum. It truly felt like each time you made her recipe for yourself and the boys, you were 14 years old all over again, sat at the dining table with both of your parents. A dark oak, wooden table with white roses sat in a uniquely crafted vase you had made and painted as a child. Photos lined the walls surrounding the dining room, ones you had now kept safely in your apartment.

“Oh! They're here! I'm gonna be late for our, umm, reservation,” you fumbled with your tote bag before stepping out of the car. Really it was just a reminder of your hotel room being ready. You round the car and Minho helps you take out your huge suitcase. Did anyone mention it was a big suitcase?

“Bye, aegi, see you soon,” Minho pats your head before getting into his car and starting it up again. You waved with the most genuine smile you could paint on your face before taking a deep breath and walking past the restaurants that lined the streets.

In all it's grandeur, sleek tiled floors, the fresh smell of bergamot pumped into the lobby and a chandelier just for measure, the hole in your heart could never truly be healed despite your familiarity with the hotel. Hauling your luggage behind you, with each step you took there was a slight relief, knowing that you had once again managed to keep your secret safe and buried from the boys. Approaching the front desk, your mind whirring with unspoken words, you smiled politely with extra effort in an attempt to not think about the date.

“Umm, hi, room for one, under the name…” you began quietly, “yeah, that's the one.” You could already hear Changbin in your mind, willing you to speak with more confidence.

“Ah yes I can see you've booked with us before, but I'm sorry, your booking is not appearing. You must be mistaken,” the clerk apologised sweetly, eyes scanning the glaring screen in front of her unsurely.

“Oh… really? Umm, ok, I'll take another room,” you sighed, pulling up your phone to double check if you had missed any emails notifying you of the change.

“We're fully booked,” the clerk added, trying to meet your gaze.

“What?” your voice wavered. Anxiety began to gnaw at your stomach.

“I said we're fully booked, ma'am,” she repeated.

“There must be another.. there aren't any other hotels around here… what am I supposed to do?” you murmured, the question being for yourself.

“That is out of our control, ma'am,” the clerk looked away. You could've figured that one out by yourself. What you couldn't figure out was where to go next as you dragged your belongings out of the hotel with you and found a bench to reap your sadness. Should you call Minho? No, he would be with his family by now, you didn't want to disturb him. Should you go back to Seoul? You could always go back to your apartment since Changbin was away and Hyunjin was staying with Chan and Felix. No, what if they returned?

Everything hit you at once like a tidal wave. It came crashing down upon you, forcing your head into your hands as you cried. Weeped. You were just about able to hold back your sobs, but why should you have to? Why were you forcing yourself to withhold your pain for years on end? It wasn't fair to you and it wasn't right to the memory of your parents.

Today was the anniversary of their deaths.

They went together at least. That small fact gave you a semblance of comfort but it wasn't enough to heal your wounds, soothe your nightmares or fill in the gaps they left behind them. Of course, not on purpose, you knew they loved you too much, their only child. There was no one else that you knew of left in your family, by blood.

“I hate it when you lie.”

You jumped, surprised you didn't even notice that Minho took a seat beside you, very cat-like in how he silently moved. Wiping away your tears and glancing away, composing yourself, you braved the situation you were now in and cleared your throat.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were staying with your family,” you sniffed.

“I thought you were staying with your family,” Minho searched your eyes curiously, wondering why you were so distraught.

“Yeah, umm, hotel mistake, umm, we're gonna just stay home instead, yeah,” you stumbled on your words, not knowing in your own head if you were ready for him to know, for anyone to know. Maybe you could get past with this excuse. Maybe he wouldn't ask you why you were at a hotel and not a restaurant. He wouldn't worry about you.

“Where are they?” Minho asked slowly, sensing something was wrong from your offbeat rambling.

“They're… they're gone…” you break down into sobs, not caring about how loud you were. Your body trembled in distress, spluttering and longing for a healthy gasp of air.

“Aigoo, what's wrong, come here, come on,” Minho immediately gathered you in his arms, and before you knew it, he was supporting your weight as he guided you into his car, parked just around the corner. He held you with care, rubbing firm circles into your back and hushing your cries.

“Got nowhere, I've got nowhere to go,” you wiped your face roughly, causing him to grab your wrists and stop you from treating yourself so harshly whilst you panicked. He tried to make sense of it all.

“I miss them so much, I-i…”

“It's ok, I've got you,” Minho murmured against your head.

“They're gone, t-they’re dead… m-my mum and dad, they're gone,” you cried, words spilling from your mouth. The secret you kept from your members for so long now out there in the open.

“I… oh my.. ok.. it's ok… I get it now… I've got you, it'll be ok,” Minho blinked, trying to hold back tears of his own as he felt your sorrow.

“I-i should've said sooner,” you hiccuped, making him sigh in response.

“Don't do that,” he tsked.

“Sorry.”

“Don't do that either. You have no need to apologise. I wish we knew sooner but it wasn't for us to decide that, ok?” he cradled you in his arms, the heat from the car keeping you nice and toasty. It brought another layer of comfort to being in Minho's embrace.

You explained how after all these years of taking breaks and visiting family, you were really staying in a hotel the whole time. To top it all off, it was the anniversary of your parent's deaths. Minho had to fight every instinct in his bones to not scold you for not telling him in the first place and instead he asked your permission to inform the boys of what had happened. You said yes. Messages immediately flooded in. Shock, sympathy, confusion. Minho put his phone down and refocused his attention on you.

“What should I do?” you asked him earnestly.

“We're going home,” Minho stroked your hair back, pulling away to scan your face for any sign of panic once more.

“Minho, you can't drive from here,” you weakly joked, pointing out the fact you were sat in the back of his car.

“Ah, there you are. Never have I been so happy to hear you talk back like that,” he rolled his eyes teasingly. His hand patted your shoulder to signal you to move back to the front of the car with him, where you were sitting merely an hour ago.

The journey on the way back to your apartments was quieter this time. Minho wanted to respect you by simply letting you sit in your thoughts, but it wasn't long before you were sharing some of your fondest memories. He kept a close eye on you, multitasking with driving and your emotions, not wanting to see you as distressed as you had been before.

By the time you pulled up outside the complex, a strange set of nerves took over. The urge to stay in the car and not get out was incredibly strong, but luckily Minho was there to steer you inside, quite literally. An elevator ride later, you were outside your place, where everyone else was gathered, waiting for you. The door whipped open and Chan was first to grab you tightly.

“You don't have to say anything, yeah? We understand,” he whispered, kissing you on the head before pulling away.

Hyunjin and Felix embraced you next and you could see Changbin fidgeting, wanting you in his arms.

“We all love you so much and we'll always be here for you. Your family. We will always look after you. Please don't keep anything from us next time,” Changbin held you against him for a moment, a tight squeeze but it was needed for the both of you.

“I won't, not anymore,” you nod in affirmation.

“Have a brownie, it'll make you feel better,” Felix offered it to you, encased with some tissue. It was the sugar boost and sweet treat that soothed your soul.

“Thanks, Lixie, umm, I better unpack,” you hugged him quickly before looking for your luggage.

Minho was chatting with the others, nudging your suitcase towards you so you could have another moment to yourself.

“One for the road?” Felix called out, wanting to hand you another one as you walked away.

“She'll be too full up, we're gonna try and make some bulgogi…” Jisung whispered, or what he thought was a whisper.

You wheel your suitcase into your room with a smile and unzip it, delicately placing your folded clothes onto your bed into different piles.

“I hope you don't mind,” you heard a voice behind you, Seungmin, “I told my parents about your situation and they said you're always welcome round our house whenever you want. Sorry if that seems-” Seungmin stood by your doorway, rambling in an uncharacteristically shy way, before you barrelled into him to give him another hug.

“I would love that.”

When you re-entered the lounge, there were no expectant glances at you, just the safety of being with the people you love.

“I can't believe you managed to hide it from us,” Jisung commented with no ill intent, gazing upon you.

“I am sorry, guys, really-”

“No, no, I didn't mean it that way!” he waved his hands apologetically, “it's just, we can normally read you like a book. I'm more sorry we didn't notice something was wrong.”

“No, no, you don't have to be. Look, I, I don't really know what to say, Sungie,” you now understood where he was coming from.

“It's ok, I'll just hug you.”

He felt guilty for nearly making you feel like you were in the wrong, so he made the conscious effort to be glued to your side, holding your hand in his as you say on the sofas a blanket covering the two of you.

There was one person who hadn't said anything yet. You decide to make conversation to help break the awkwardness.

“What time are you going to Busan tomorrow?” you wonder, glancing at Jeongin.

“Oh, Busan? I'm not going this time,” he shook his head, watching your reaction.

“Jeongin…”

“There is always next time. Plus, I'm still with my family this way too.”

Bundled together on the sofas in the Hyunbin + you apartment, you felt relaxed. You didn't know how much you missed spending time together in the comfort of your own home. It had been a while since all nine of you lived together, after all. That evening you ate bulgogi, whipped up by Minho and his sous-chef Jeongin. Nine people were connected, whether it was Hyunjin teasing Minho by pretending to bite his feet (clothed, don't worry), Jisung pressed against your side or the multitude of legs strewn across each other. The others apart from your usual roommates reluctantly left you the next day after you promised you would be okay, or as okay as you could be. There was something that brightened your day though, and it appeared in the form of Hwang Hyunjin gifting you some art.

“I tried to capture their faces, but if you don't like it then-”

“I love it. I love it so much. Thank you, Hyune.”

The beauty in which you all came together, just like you always did, ran deeply through your souls, bonded together as a family forever.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @linoalwaysknows @royal-shinigami @jolly04 @turtledove824 @yangbbokari @thisrandomgoofy15 @lieslab @hannamoon143 @arumlilyeclipse @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @katzline @kiwihrt @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @his-angell @2minstan @skzoologist @lovingchan @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria @theo4eve

[c0s-lettuce]

Would you be able to a Sergei, where he has a child with someone from his past. He doesn’t know about the child for three years but once somehow finds out he tracks them down to find them and meet his kid (honestly could be a boy or a girl)

blissfully unaware - sergei kravinoff x fem!reader

synopsis: for the last three years, you've been raising your daughter, emilia, by yourself. but when her father finds out, he wants to be a part of your lives again.

word count: 2225

a/n: thanks for the request, i had fun writing this! it wasn't specified, but i wrote this as an x reader, hope that's alright! disclaimer, i do not know what three year olds are like, so i apologise if anything is inaccurate.

It was a chance meeting. You and Sergei were like two passing ships. Even though things happened fast, you thought you had found the one. You were sure he felt the same. It was months of pure bliss before one day when you woke up alone.

The world shifted when you first saw those two lines. You felt lost for the first few weeks. You didn't know what to do or how to do it. But your friends and family supported you, and eventually, you decided it was for the best. You knew who Sergei was and what he did for a living. You didn't want your child to be a part of that.

When you held Emilia's little body in your arms for the first time, you fell in love with her instantly. After the tears and sleepless nights were over, life with your daughter was perfect. She was a sweet and thoughtful child. She rarely fussed over anything and had so much love in her heart.

It was hard not to think about Sergei at first. Emilia was a perfect combination of the two of you. Half of him and half of you. But as time passed, you forced him out of your mind and focused on your little girl. And in the blink of an eye, Emilia was already three years old.

That brings you to today, a Friday morning in the summer. It's been a long week, and you're looking forward to spending the weekend with your daughter, having promised to take Emilia to the beach. But first, you had to get her to preschool and get yourself to work.

You poke your head into Emilia's bedroom. She sleeps soundly, hugging a bunny plushie to her chest. You step over the toys scattered on the floor, stopping at her bed.

"Hey, baby," you kneel beside her, brushing the hair away from her face. "It's time to wake up."

Emilia scrunches her face in response. She hugs her bunny tighter and mumbles, "Not yet, mama."

"Yes, now," you say. "You've got a whole day ahead of you, Emmy."

Emilia let out a tiny whine, not giving up her sleep just yet, and you hold back a chuckle. Resorting to another method of waking her, you lean in and begin peppering kisses on her cheek.

She starts giggling immediately, trying to hide her face in her pillow. "Stop, that tickles!"

"It does, huh? What about now?" You add your hands into the mix, tickling her body with your fingers.

She squirms, giggling even more. "Mama, stop!"

You laugh as you withdraw your hands. Emilia looks up at you with bright eyes, hiding her smile behind her bunny.

You give her one last kiss on the nose. "Come on, girly. Let's go have some breakfast, yeah?"

Emilia nods, sitting up and holding her arms up to you. You pick her up, and she hugs your neck as you carry her to the dining table.

The morning goes by peacefully. Soon enough, the two of you are off for the day. You drop Emilia off at preschool. She gives you a kiss and says goodbye in a sweet little voice that always melts your heart.

It's a productive day for both of you. And that evening, you and Emilia go to the supermarket to pick up a few groceries. She trails beside you cheerfully since you agreed to buy her a box of fruit snacks.

You're currently looking at vegetables, Emilia's least favourite section. Your broccoli perusing is interrupted when a familiar voice calls your name. You turn and see a young man standing before you. He's dressed nicely. It takes a moment to place a name on the face.

You do a double take. "Dmitri?"

He grins, "Oh my god, it really is you. It's been, what? Four years?"

You pause for a moment. You were close to Dmitri for some time, having visited the restaurant many times. But you stopped talking to him when Sergei left.

You smile back, though yours is somewhat strained. "Wow, yeah. Just about, I think. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see a show at the theatre nearby," he explains. "What about you?"

"I live here now," you tell him.

"Oh, that's great," he replies. "It's a nice area here, I-"

He trails off when he notices the little person beside you. A look passes Dmitri's face. It worries you, but he quickly replaces it with another smile.

"Who's this?" he asks.

You look down. Emilia's holding onto your leg, hiding slightly behind it. You place a hand on her head. "This is Emilia."

"Hi, Emilia," he greets her before looking back up at you. "Is she yours?"

"She is," you say cautiously.

"That's wonderful," he responds. "She looks like you."

"Thank you," you reply.

A somewhat awkward silence settles. Dmitri looks down at his watch.

"Well, I need to head off if I want to make it on time," he states. "It was good seeing you."

"Yeah, you too, Dmitri. See you around," you say.

He nods, looking down at Emilia. "Bye, Emilia."

Emilia waves him goodbye. She looks up at you curiously after he walks away and asks, "Who is that, mama?"

"Just an old friend, Emmy," you say.

"He has funny clothes," she replies.

"You're right, bub," you let out a chuckle, ruffling her hair. "Come on, just a few more things, and then we can go home."

Emilia takes your hand without a second thought. With one last glance towards Dmitri, you tell yourself not to worry and refocus on your shopping.

A week passes, and you start to forget about your interaction with Dmitri. It's a Sunday, and you're lounging at home. You have some time to yourself since Emilia is having a playdate with her friend.

But your peace is interrupted when someone knocks at your front door. When you go to answer, your heart drops. None other than Sergei Kravinoff is at your door, eyes wide and noticeably flustered.

"H-hey…" he stammers.

You stare at him, shocked. The man who has been a ghost for the past four years suddenly stands before you. And he looks a mess.

"Sergei," you regard him. "What are you doing here?"

He swallows visibly. You notice his eyes dart behind you, looking inside your home before settling back on you.

"Is she here?" he asks.

You feel your heart drop even more. He knows.

"No, she's over at a friend's place," you tell him.

"Oh," is all he says, his face an unreadable mix of emotions.

You shift uncomfortably, unable to meet his gaze. "How did you find out?"

"Dima told me he saw you," he explains. "The other day at the store."

You nod, unsurprised. A part of you anticipated something like this happening. You don't bother asking how he found out where you lived. You already know the answer.

You open the door for him. "You should come in."

Sergei enters, grateful but wary. He looks around at the living room. The place is covered with evidence of Emilia.

"She's mine, isn't she?" he asks.

"Yeah, she's yours," you reply.

He turns to face you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"How was I supposed to, Sergei?" you retaliate. "You disappeared on me."

Sergei lets out a huff, knowing you're right. But still, he argues, "You could've reached out to Dima. Or done anything. You didn't even try."

"Would it have made a difference?" you ask. "Would you really have dropped whatever you've been doing for this?"

He hesitates. He wants to say yes but doesn't know if he can. Instead, he just looks around the room again.

You've never seen him look so defeated. A part of you feels guilty. But the other part feels resentful. Four years and not a single word. Now, he shows up out of the blue, demanding answers.

"Look," you begin. "I don't know what you've been doing all this time, but I've been living a good life with Emilia. And I don't plan on that changing."

Sergei shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't- I'm not here to cause you trouble, I just… I wish you told me."

The guiltier part of you starts to take over. "I'm sorry, Sergei."

"No, don't apologise," he says. "This is my fault."

You fall silent, thinking of nothing else to say. You can tell Sergei's mind is going a million miles an hour, so you give him some time to process things.

He speaks up after a few moments. "Do you think I could meet her? Please?"

You hesitate to answer. The thought of letting Sergei back into your life scares you. But you decide to give him a chance. He deserves to meet his daughter at least once.

"We'll both be home next Saturday," you tell him. "She usually naps around noon, so you could come over at two."

"Two o'clock. Alright, I'll be here," he says.

Sergei gives you his number and leaves shortly after, not wanting to bother you any longer. It feels strange to suddenly have a way to directly contact him. But you have a week until he comes over again, so you bide your time until then.

You're nervous all morning the next week, but Emilia is blissfully unaware. She wakes from her nap and is already back to her toys, playing doctor with her plushies. You watch her from the kitchen, drumming your fingers on the counter.

Sergei arrives at two on the dot. You steel yourself before answering the door. He stands there looking just as anxious but greets you with a smile.

"Hey," he holds out a bouquet of flowers. "These are for you."

You accept the gift, noticing he still remembers your favourite. "Thank you, Sergei. Come in."

Sergei follows you inside. You place the flowers down and lead him to where Emilia is playing. He needs a moment to take her in. She has a head of wavy hair and chubby cheeks. He can see himself in her. He sees you, too. And just like you three years ago, he falls in love instantly.

You take a seat on the floor beside her, getting her attention. "Hey, Emmy. There's someone who would like to meet you."

You look towards Sergei, and Emilia follows your gaze.

Sergei kneels in front of her, holding out his hand. "Hi there, Emilia. I'm Sergei."

Emilia looks back at you, and you give her a reassuring nod. She timidly reaches out to shake his hand but doesn't say anything. Her hand is comically small in his. She retracts her arm, and you notice her shuffle closer to you.

Sergei smiles, gesturing to her toys. "These are cool. Are you a doctor?"

Emilia seems to light up a bit at his question and nods.

"You know, Em," you speak up. "Sergei told me he was feeling a bit sick. Do you want to give him a check-up?"

Emilia nods again, seeming a bit more enthusiastic now. She's always happy to show off her toys and medical skills. It takes a few minutes, but Emilia starts warming up to Sergei. You step away to let them play and can't help but smile as you watch them.

Sergei commits to the part, even pretending to be unconscious on the floor. Emilia pokes him with her equipment in an attempt to revive him. She's all giggles and smiles by the end of the afternoon. After dragging you over to also get a check-up, Emilia introduces Sergei to her plushies, and he offers his highest praise for each of them.

Soon enough, the afternoon is over. You'll need to start getting Emilia fed, bathed and into bed. But, of course, she complains when you say it's for Sergei to go. She pleads for him to stay for dinner. Sergei, however, doesn't want to overstay his welcome, so he makes an excuse for himself. Emilia relents and gives him a hug goodbye.

You walk Sergei to the door. Stepping outside, you're greeted by the cool evening breeze. He faces you, a tentative look on his face.

"Thanks for coming," you speak up first.

"Thanks for having me," he says. "I'd like to do this again."

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure Emilia would like that too."

Sergei smiles, and a moment of silence passes. He takes this time to take you in. Really take you in. You've changed over the years. But you aren't even a bit less beautiful.

He takes this opportunity to continue. "And what about her mother? Think she and I could spend some time together as well?"

You crack a smile. "I don't get much free time these days, Sergei. But let's go with a maybe."

"Maybe," he nods. "I can work with maybe."

Silence falls between the two of you again. Sergei is reluctant to leave but knows he can't linger. He reaches for your hand, lifting it up to kiss the back of it.

"Thank you," he says. "I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon, Sergei," you reply.

Sergei offers one last smile and lets your hand slip from his. He begins walking away and looks back to see Emilia waving at him through the window. Sergei waves back, filled with a new resolve. He's not going to screw up this time.

➸

[kyyupidz]

Hey hey :3! Soooo it’s my birthday in acouple days and I was wondering if I could request some x reader content with Floydie. I love him very dearly and would like to spend my birthday with him pls and thank u :}

hey siri: is my boyfriend love-bombing me? (g/n reader x floyd leech)

★ after dating floyd leech for a week, you come to the sickening realization (before your birthday no less!) that floyd leech may or may not be love-bombing you. dammit! well, no relationships stay perfect forever, right? ★ hurt/comfort, preestablished relationship ★ 2.75k words, reader is the ramshackle prefect, reader is called shrimpy, brief ace, deuce, grim, and azul mention, happy birthday user cryptidsandcreepycrawlings! <3

a week ago, you confessed your undying love to floyd leech of octavinelle. 

stupid? maybe. when you brought up the idea to your friends, they pretty much all told you to drop it. ace had called you as senseless as deuce, deuce was too surprised to respond to either of you, and grim had begun shaking even thinking about floyd.

unfortunately for them, all their warnings went through one ear and out the other. what’s the worst he could do? kill you? bring it! you’re not afraid! 

...okay, maybe you were a little scared. when you decided to completely disregard all warning flags and desperate mewls of mercy from grim, you were, admittedly, extremely nervous. you had locked yourself in the bathroom, and while grim clawed at the door trying to stop you, you texted floyd to meet you at the courtyard in the evening.

his response?

nah

…oh. well–

kidding dw ill be there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  wait for me okay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

and that’s how you managed to drag floyd leech out to the courtyard to spill your heart out to him!

…too bad the confession itself was… well… a whole stumble of words. nobody said it was going to be easy confessing to a 191 centimeter eel! you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, you were so scared! at the very least, he had kept quiet the whole time you were word-vomiting, patiently waiting for you to finish.

and when you were done… you had glanced up at him and… and…

he was smiling like crazy. like, maniacal crazy. your heart had practically stopped in your chest when you looked at him, and not because he was pretty, but because you were scared he was going to pull out a scalpel and carve it into your flesh!

…okay, maybe it was because he was pretty. but that’s not the point!

surprisingly, instead of laughing in your face or torturing you or just walking off, he immediately made a grab for you and pulled you into his arms, long arms encircling your torso and crushing the ribs inside to dust. 

“aww, shrimpy! let me give you a big squeeze!” he had squealed excitedly,  “ahaha!~ ain’t you just the cutest? okay, let’s have fun and play together forever and ever!”

admittedly, his acceptance of your feelings was a little creepy and ominous. it didn’t feel like he reciprocated more so that he was chaining you to him and dooming you to be his eternal plaything. but those are just details! what’s important is that he said yes, and now you’re officially dating floyd leech!

and really, it’s been a dream. more than that. he’s everything you wanted. even though grim immediately scampers upstairs into the safety of your shared room when he visits and ace keeps gagging every time you talk about him, he’s perfect. 

when he enters a conversation with someone, he immediately goes on a tangent about how “shrimpy just confessed their feelings to me!” which is quickly followed up by “you better congratulate me or i’m gonna squeeze you.” 

the thought of him showing you off to other people really makes your heart warm! 

and when you initiated the first kiss, a chaste peck on the cheek, he immediately pounced on you and gave you thousands more in turn. your friends are sick of seeing him draped on you and making kissy faces at you all the time, but you wouldn’t have it any other way! 

better yet, he’s been walking you to class every morning and walking you home every afternoon, saying that he just wants to spend a little more time with his favorite shrimpy. he doesn’t always lead you to class like he promises, sometimes dragging you along to skip in his room, but where floyd goes, you follow!

you guys are perfect. at least, you really thought you guys were perfect. but last night, ace had crashed on your couch, and made you rethink your entire relationship.

“are you sure he likes you, prefect?” he had asked you. and you immediately rolled your eyes, prepared for another lecture about how you need to rethink your love life choices.

“stop trying to break us up already,” you replied, swatting his shoulder, “this is why you keep getting collared.”

yet instead of just sighing and letting it go, ace had fallen eerily silent.

“i don’t know, prefect,” he muttered, “what if he suddenly decides you’re not fun anymore and dumps you? you know how he is, with his crazy mood swings. what if you do something he doesn’t like and he decides then and there, ‘it’s over!’”

at the time, you had swatted at him again, scowling.

“floyd would never do that!” you said, “he isn’t like that!”

but now… you aren’t so sure.

you know, it’s awful of you to think this way about your boyfriend! especially when he’s been nothing but kind to you. but you just can’t help yourself, this irrational feeling taking root in your mind and infesting your every thought. 

what if he really is just dating you because he thought it’d be fun in the moment? what if he really does dump you the moment you become boring? oh sevens, is this what they call love-bombing? are you being love-bombed?

you feel a pit forming in your stomach. worst part? tomorrow’s your birthday. your birthday! and you’re spending it stressed and worked up over a hypothetical chance of your boyfriend not liking you. dammit, that’s not fair!

in hopes of at least having a relatively decent birthday, you do everything that you can to put yourself to sleep. warm milk, counting sheep, running around a few times… 

it doesn’t work. you keep tossing and turning and groaning with exasperation.

and when floyd shows up at your door the next morning, you find yourself not overwhelmed with love, but doubt. does he really like you? or is this just one big game to him, where he sees how much fun he can squeeze out of you before you’ve run out of entertainment value? 

is that what this is? a game?

“hey, shrimpy,” floyd says, snapping you out of your thoughts. he’s pouting, clearly displeased that you’re ignoring him. “i’ve been calling your name for like, the past five minutes. what’s got your brain so scrambled today?” 

you smile up at him, standing on your tip-toes to give him his morning kiss. for some reason, it feels wrong. hollow, devoid of any sort of affection. 

…you make sure to give him a few more to make up for it. it makes him giggle and kiss you back. 

“sorry,” you respond back as cheerfully as you can, “it’s nothing, really! guess i stayed up a little too late today.”

…sevens, what are you thinking, doubting your boyfriend? you’re just the worst, aren’t you? he doesn’t deserve that, not after all he’s done for you! someone who doesn’t love you wouldn’t walk you to class every single day. he’s done too much for you to chalk it up to simple love-bombing!

besides, who knows floyd better, ace, or you? obviously, you! you’re his partner! so why are you even bothering listening to ace? ace, of all people?!

you know what floyd’s like. you know that if he’s interested in something, he’ll chase after it for a while before it gets old and he ditches it. but those are things. objects. you do the same thing sometimes, abandoning a book if you start to get tired reading it. but people are a whole different matter. he wouldn’t do that to people, would he? would he ditch a person like that?

no. he wouldn’t! you know he wouldn’t.

…would he?

“hey,” you say suddenly, and he peers down at you curiously. 

“yeah?”

“if… hypothetically,” you start, trying to figure out how to articulate your thoughts, “jade wasn’t cool anymore, would you… abandon him? like, you weren’t having fun anymore with him.”

“if jade wasn’t cool anymore, huh…?” he hums in thought, shoving his hands into his pocket, “...nah. that’d never happen.”

you blink. okay, maybe his brother was a bad example. blood is thicker than water, or something. you can’t say you’re too surprised. 

“really?” you prompt, “not at all?”

“no way,” he shakes his head, “i mean, if he was, i’d totally drag him to the bottom of the ocean and let him get ganged up on by sharks. but i’d never get bored of jade!”

on second thought, maybe blood isn’t thicker than water. you shiver despite yourself. if that’s the treatment jade gets, you’re horrified to even think about what’s going to happen to you. maybe ace was right after all…? 

“why’d ya ask though, shrimpy?” he says, pinching your cheek, “someone got ya thinking that i’m gonna ditch you if you get boring?”

wow. bullseye. you forget how perceptive he can be sometimes. you laugh nervously, dismissing his concerns with a wave of your hand.

“nothing like that,” you say, like a liar, “just thinking.”

yeah. yeah! you’re just overthinking it all. you mentally kick yourself for believing ace’s stupidity once again, and vow to make it up to floyd by being extra sweet and nice and cool. good thoughts, happy thoughts. you’re going to have a good day with your boyfriend and you’re going to celebrate living one more year with absolutely zero negative thoughts! 

(and yet, you still find that nagging “what-if” gnawing at the back of your mind.)

“floyd…” you manage to work up the courage to call out as you both sit in one of the mostro lounge booths. he’s supposed to be on the job, but he decided on a whim to skip and hang out with you. he says it’s more fun being with you than running around taking people’s orders. 

you didn’t know how you felt about that, considering your recent revelations, but you smiled back regardless. after all, doubts or no doubts, he is still your boyfriend. and you want to spend your birthday with the guy you really like! 

“what’s up, shrimpy?” he responds, chewing on your milkshake straw. despite serving it to you, he’s taken it for himself, the thief.

you steel your nerves, drawing in a breath. even though you told yourself earlier this morning that it was all nothing, you couldn’t stop thinking about ace’s words all day. so, you’re going to confront him for the second time today! but not in a roundabout way like before, no no no, you’re going to ask him head-on if he’s gonna leave you if you become a bore! as they say, communication is key, right?

“do you…” you pause, palms suddenly feeling very sweaty, “...like me?”

floyd blinks at you. once… twice…

“are you confessing to me again?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“huh?” you sputter out, “no, no, i’m not confessing to you again, i–”

“awh, shrimpy, i already told you i liked you a week ago! your brain’s been real scrambled today, huh? don’t worry, i know just the way to unscramble it!” 

and with that, he jumps up from his seat and runs off. you can only stare wide-eyed and slack-jawed as he pushes his way towards the mostro lounge kitchen and disappears behind the double doors. 

you thought he’d come back in a few minutes or so, but no. he took until closing. had he done this any day but today, you would’ve let it slide. even before you two were dating, you used to wait for him all the time in this specific booth, waiting for him to finish up. but now…

you just feel bad. like you got stood-up or something. you couldn’t even finish your milkshake, you were so down in the dumps. not that you could’ve anyway, floyd chewed your straw to bits. the downsides of having a boyfriend with sharp teeth, you suppose.

but just when you were about to give up, go home, and text him later that you weren’t feeling well, floyd bursts out from the kitchen and places an absolutely huge ice cream sundae on the table. 

“ta-da!” he beams, sliding into the seat across from you with a grin, “whaddaya think? pretty cool, right?”

you gape at the monstrosity that floyd just laid before you. you’re not even sure what flavor the ice cream is. you think he took a scoop from every single tub the mostro lounge had and threw them all in, though it’s hard to tell by the way he’s drowned the whole thing in sauces and whipped cream. you look closer and spot a brownie and cookie layer completely drowned in the mess of sugar. are those… gummy worms too?

“this is…” you start, then immediately clamp your mouth shut. you’re not sure what he’d do if you told him this is simply too much. 

floyd’s smile only grows. “totally awesome, i know. i’m a cooking prodigy! azul chewed my ear out about it, saying that i’m wasting resources ‘n’ that i should be at the front helping the actual customers, but he let it go eventually. he’s gonna force me on dish-washing duty later, but it’s okay because i did it for shrimpy!”

your heart thumps loudly in your chest, the negative thoughts you were harboring seeming to fade away at his declaration. you can’t help but smile back at him, the way he so eagerly awaits your praise melting your doubts away.

“it is awesome,” you say softly, “you’re awesome. thank you so much.”

floyd seems to practically radiate pride, that maniacal smile you’re all too familiar with on full display. you gaze affectionately at the sharp row of teeth he sports. that’s your man right there!

“look, look,” he presses, “let me show you the best part.”

he turns the sundae around, and lodged haphazardly in between the glass and the sundae are two sugar cookies. 

they look like… you. and floyd. 

the one resembling floyd is messily frosted. there was an obvious attempt to create his signature smile, but it seems like the frosting tip was just a bit too big. and the frosting tip for his hair seems like it was too small, so every strand just looks like well-cooked blue spaghetti. 

but yours is almost identical to you. obviously, he’s taken a few artistic liberties, but compared to floyd’s? yours looks like a professional baker did it. it appears to you that between the time it took for him to make his cookie and the time it took to make yours, he got a rather significant boost in cookie decorating skills. 

“aren’t they cute?” he says happily, “i worked really hard on them, y’know. never knew how hard it was to frost cookies!” 

you gingerly pick your cookie up. the more you look at it, the more you feel your face warm. it’s like you’re falling in love all over again. 

it really does look like you. you wonder how long he had to stare at a picture of you to get it down so well. or maybe he’s got your face memorized so well that he can recall every detail? either way, you feel a flutter in your stomach.

“hey-hey, shrimpy,” floyd calls, “show me your cookie real quick?”

you blink. slowly, you turn the cookie to him, and he smushes the face of his own cookie onto the face of yours. the frosting smears against your fingertips as you gasp at the sudden destruction floyd has caused. 

“look, they’re kissing!” he giggles childishly, unfazed by the hours of his hard work he just disregarded. you stare shocked at the cookie sandwich that floyd has just created. 

he smiles at you, with his sharp teeth and stained uniform, and boops your nose with his finger. “happy birthday shrimpy.”

and then you realize, sevens, how could floyd ever leave you?

“...you know what,” you say breathlessly, “you know what, i think the real floyd should get some love, too.”

you reach over the table to grab him by his collar and pull him in for a kiss. it’s just as calamitous as the cookie kiss, just lips smashing against lips, but you both pull away laughing and red-faced and wholly in love. 

“so?” he prompts, propping himself up on one hand to stare at you, “your brain all fixed up now?”

you smile at him. really smile at him. “yeah. all fixed. thank you, floyd.”

…wait, so, you have to eat this mess of a sundae he created now, right?

note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! not only is this my first request, this is also a BIRTHDAY REQUEST??? oh boy. I REALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE this fic gives you nothing but good blessings and much fortune because by the time i was done writing i realized maybe writing a hurt/comfort fic wasn't the way to go for a birthday present. NONETHELESS i do hope the comfort balanced out the hurt and that the hurt didn't hurt too bad!!! may you receive nothing but the best and may you live to see the next birthday with mr floyd leech himself! <3 <3 <3 <3

[kirbmey]

— s1!jayvik headcanons (＞×＜)

synopsis: viktor and jayce need the help of a new investor to keep up with their research and fall in love with his daughter <3

tw: suggestive, reader is an spoiled brat, established!jayvik, not canon obv, jayce’s lowk pathetic, reader calls her father “daddy”, viktor takes the lead, choking mention if u squint, etc.

s1!jayvik who, with sky’s help, managed to find an aristocrat in piltover who was willing to meet with them and talk about hextech.

s1!jayvik who attend to your maybe-too-big mansion to discuss terms with your father while having dinner, and you were there too (๑╹ᆺ╹)

s1!jayvik who were known all over topside for being a pair of handsome inventors and curiosity peeked trough you, fixated on meeting them.

s1!jayvik who expected your father and your father alone, jayce shy at your presence and viktor already staging ways to approach you later.

s1!jayvik who, while dinner occurs, don’t fail to notice your cute curls and your lipstick a beautiful shade of crimson, you just playing a fool even though you knew you caught their eye the first second they stepped inside your house.

s1!jayce who’s mesmerized in the way your lips wrap around the fork to take a bite, on how you push your long hair aside while drinking, maybe even how your necklace decorated your throat, thinking his hand would look better (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩⑅)

s1!jayce who feels the real shame every time he has to excuse himself to your father because he didn’t really paid attention to what he said. such a silly boy :(

s1!viktor who’s a lot better at hiding his lustful gazes, having the investment a priority; after getting the accord, he can worry about how he’ll get under your garments.

s1!viktor who actually listens and actually eats something at the dinner.

s1!viktor who notices deeper details about you, the moles all over your skin, the number of little diamonds your ring had, the way one of your eyebrows was thinner than the other (how your breast almost spilled out of your white dress), you know, deeper details ♡￫ܫ￩♡

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“so, I need to make sure my money is sent to smart hands, gentlemen, can you show me anything about this hextech thing?” your dad spoke in a deep voice that echoed the grand dining room, contrasting with the soft violin playing on the background.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“of course! we brought tons of sketches and studies and analysis and—” jayce implied excited, always happy to talk about the project of his life, being interrupted by viktor’s skinny hand on his shoulder while the other one passed a notebook to your father.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“that’s all you’re actually interested in, sir.” he declared with a thick accent, it made you curious to know where it belonged to.

s1!jayce who anxiously plays with viktor’s brace under the table, tracing its shape while shaking his leg, looking adorably concerned.

s1!viktor who caresses the big hand that toyed with the metal around his calf and knee, circling motions over his knuckles to calm his partner down.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　your father didn’t seem to really trust the idea brought to the table, the implication of magic clashing with his ideals. therefore you leaned closer to him, head against his shoulder as you read the notebook as well, noticing viktor’s neat handwriting.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“oh, daddy, isn’t this just so so so interesting?” you voiced with a honey sweet tone, locking his arm with your own.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“look, portals to quickly travel between regions? imagine all the money piltover would make, all thanks to you investing in ‘em.” you murmured now, locking eyes with viktor, who was smirking at you subtly, jayce too nervous to even hear what you said (◕︿◕✿)

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“hmm, still, darling, magic?” your father questioned with a slight disgust in his voice, putting the papers down and sighing while massaging his mustache.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“wasn’t piltover the city of progress? this really seems like progress to me…” you looked at him with a pout plastered on your juicy lips. “i think leaving old stigmas and taboos behind is really… progressy.”

s1!jayvik who watch you leave towards the gardens after making your father deal with them a crazy amount of money with just some puppy eyes and sultry voice.

s1!jayvik who catch a glimpse of your white nightgown covering the grass of said garden while you sat down, playing around with a stray cat, it almost seemed like you were waiting for them.

s1!jayvik who approach you after viktor insisted, to thank you, and maybe have an intimate conversation with you, too.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“thank you for interfering, my lady, if it wasn’t for you we would’ve left empty handed.” viktor confessed while siting down on the stone bench under the white pergola where you sat, the moonlight highlighting your angel-like features, leaving his cane on top of said surface.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　jayce sat down in front of you in the floor with some distance, legs crossed and arms propped behind him, tilting his head to the side when he noticed how you scooted closer to him and blushing to this right after.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“well, it wasn’t charity, you know.” you murmur in a sweet tone, curling your hair around your manicured finger as you stood on your knees, taking support from jayce’s thick thigh to end up facing viktor from above, as if you were worshipping him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　the skinnier man scoffed at this, noticing how your cheek rested now against his inner thigh, how your hair fell down your exposed back as jayce held your hand to take place in the empty space next to you, mimicking how you rested your head to stare at you, viktor caressing his now not so put together hair in a way he seemed to be accustomed already.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“then, what is it that you desire from us in exchange, little angel?” he questioned with that accent that you started to fall in love with, his thin fingers coming down to hold your chin, making you look up to him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“mmm, i dunno…” you feigned hesitation, reaching jayce’s handsome face to scratch behind his ear slowly, noticing how he didn’t comply, such a puppy. “maybe take me to your laboratory and show me your advances from time to time.” you pouted when you felt his thumb smudge some of your expensive lipstick away.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“wouldn’t want you two forgetting about me.” you confessed before taking said thumb between your lips, looking up to him. jayce took your smaller hand between his, inhaling your cherry scented hand cream before peppering kisses all over it.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“we would never forget about you, bunny.” he said softly against your skin, caressing your cheek while you kept on sucking viktor’s finger, adverting your gaze to him now. “you can come over anytime, maybe we can make you find science more interesting.”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　viktor chuckled before emptying your mouth and leaving jayce’s hair be, gaining a whine from both of you. “so it is settled, we’ll see you tomorrow at the academy, correct?” he asked while taking his cane to stand up from where he sat, motioning his hand to order jayce to do the same.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　you imitate their actions, tidying your hair before grabbing their holding hands with yours, standing on your tippy toes to leave a noisy smooch against their cheeks, decorating them with the granate of your lips. “you most definitely will, gentlemen.”

s1!jayvik who don’t notice how your father stared at the whole play from the beginning, shaking his head on disappointment at you; always playing around with men.

s1!jayvik who walk towards their ride in silence, jayce still inhaling your lingering scent and the soft of you lips against his cheeks, viktor trying to not think too much about the growing boner you gave him (*_ _)

a/n: i’m obsessed with this setting, part 2 maybe? (*^ω^)

— masterlist.