#this was quickly written and is h word so. enjoy!

[zorosdimples]

mdni. cw: hybrids, oral fixations, spit. my (not so) long-awaited return to the tiger hybrid yuuji-verse.

Sunday afternoons are usually spent like this: lazing on the couch with your tiger hybrid, his broad frame curled around yours as he shields you from the stress of your impending work week. Your face is buried in his strong chest and his chin rests atop your head.

Yuuji chuffs in contentment when you reach up to scratch his rosy ears; the vocalization puffs against your hair as his soft tail gently bats your hip. When you try to withdraw your hand, he whines, chasing you with his nose. As you let him nuzzle into your touch, he begins lapping at your skin.

You chuckle; you’ve grown fond of his clinginess. “Hm?”

His affection dances from the center of your palm to the tip of your pointer finger, and he wraps his tongue around the digit before nipping the pad. He pulls away from your comforting scent and warmth—barely, as his breath ghosts your flesh—and his striped ears twitch.

“You know how you told me to come to you when I need anything?” Yuuji asks.

You hum. “Of course.”

“Well,” he gulps, cheeks blooming a ruddy color that matches his hair, “could you, um, play with my mouth?”

Unsure of where he’s headed with his request, you quirk an eyebrow.

“The vet said I had to stop chewing so much ice—remember?”

“Yeah. It’s bad for your teeth if you do it too often.”

He nods. “And I've chewed through all of my toys.”

“No new toys until next month, Yuu. They’re too expensive to replace on a weekly basis. Unfortunately, I’m not made of money.”

The hybrid’s ears flatten against his head. “I know. But my mouth feels so empty.” He shifts a little, now fidgeting with the fuzzy tip of his tail. “I—um, just need something to occupy it. My gums ache, and my jaw hurts because I keep clenching. I try to work everything out on my own, but I… I thought maybe you could help.”

Wide, sweet, earnest, Yuuji’s gaze is rich caramel. You feel a little flustered by his request—you aren’t exactly sure why—but you couldn’t possibly say no to him. You offer Yuuji a reassuring smile. “There’s no need for you to be embarrassed; I’m always happy to help. Now: open wide for me.”

Your willingness draws a pleased chuff from him, and he complies, baring his maw. Accentuated by glinting incisors, rows of honed teeth would be a frightening sight for an onlooker. But the hybrid would rather wither away than hurt a fly (unless the fly was trying to harm you). You begin by running a finger along his slick gums, gingerly massaging the pink tissue.

Garbled whines flutter past Yuuji’s drooling tongue; his eyes water, irises hazy with relief. By the time you reach his molars, you have to hold his tongue down with your middle and ring fingers, using your index to rub around his teeth. Spit pools at the bottom of his mouth and dribbles down his chin. A pleased sigh leaves his stretched lips, and his hips jerk forward, something firm brushing against your belly.

Blood rushes to your face. You swallow dryly, acutely aware of your intimate position. “Are you hard, Yuuji?”

The hybrid doesn’t try to deny it. “Thowy,” he pants with your fingers heavy on his tongue. Dew collects at his temples and his neck is blush. But instead of putting space between your bodies, he squirms closer—until his bulge presses against you, his syrupy gaze slowing your mind and seeping into your limbs.

Arousal knots itself deep in your core as you stare at your companion—hot, needy, eager. Against your better judgment, you grind against him. Losing focus, he roughly grabs your hips, mouth closing around your digits to lave and suck. He rolls onto his back and hoists you on top of him, angling you so that his throbbing length rubs you right where you need.

“Fuck,” you hiss, unable to do anything but roll your hips and chase pleasure. You extract your fingers from Yuuji’s mouth, cradling his burning face before melting into him, a heap of spit and teeth and tongue.

“I’m s-sorry,” he groans against your lips as he kneads your ass, tail grazing your ankle. “Gonna make it up to you—promise.”

[rika-mmendmethings]

Baby Boss-Man (or Boss Baby?) l Sylus

Summary: One misfire of another one of Philip's odd inventions and Sylus is aged back to a five-year-old bundle of chaos version of himself. But as you try to survive his oversized cuteness, you can't help but catch baby fever. When the antidote arrives, you're sure that you'll be rid of those thoughts. The only difference is that Sylus intends to make them real.

Warning(s): Tooth-rotting fluff, baby fever, temporary age regression, written with female reader in mind, might die from the cute aggression you get from five-year-old Sylus, short and sweet, suggestive at the end, cheesy, kissing, pet names like kitten used.

Word count: 2.6k

Now playing: Honeypie by JAWNY

Notes: Based on this request. I'm a bit late but as promised here it is. I felt like I was writing Feline Hexes all over again because the fluff surely measured up to that one. Had me rolling in the feels. Okay enough yapping, hope y'all enjoy it especially you bestie @sylusgirlie7 ♥

You had accompanied Sylus to the Odd Workshop since you needed to have your hunter weapon modified anyway. Flashing a polite smile at Philip in greeting, you handed over your gun for him to begin his work. You took a seat nearby, exchanging idle conversation with Philip while keeping an eye on Sylus from your periphery as he wandered around the workshop, poking at things with curious fingers.

Once Philip completed the modification, you tested your weapon and hummed in satisfaction — the result was flawless. Just as you were about to thank him, a loud buzz shattered the eerie quiet that usually hung in the air.

You whipped your head around, eyes scanning for Sylus, but he was nowhere in sight. Alarmed, you called out, “Sylus?”

“Yeah?” came a small, chirpy voice.

Your gaze dropped to a heap of familiar-looking clothes on the floor. You gasped when a tuft of white hair peeked out from beneath them. Wide, crimson, doe-like eyes stared up at you — and in a shocking moment of realization, you understood: it was Sylus. Your boyfriend. But now, in the body of a five-year-old.

“Help!” he squeaked, little arms flailing beneath the pile of oversized clothing. “I’m stuck!”

You quickly bent down and freed him, lifting his tiny form out of the tangled garments — leaving behind his shoes, belt, and pants, which were now comically too large for him. The shirt hung from his frame like a cloak, sleeves completely swallowing his arms. Despite the confusion, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Gently, you wrapped the lower half of his shirt around his legs and rolled up the sleeves, messily tying it together to make it wearable. You cradled him in your arms, cocooned in his own shirt.

Philip approached, his face sheepish as his eyes flicked between the smoldering wreckage of a device on the floor and the now miniaturized Sylus in your arms. You could practically see steam rising from Sylus’s tiny ears in outrage.

Scratching the back of his neck, Philip offered a half-hearted explanation, “That was... um, my latest invention. I created a fluid designed to revert a plant to its seed form — or a butterfly back to a caterpillar. I didn’t realize the jet injector would actually work on humans too…heh.”

Philip’s words only seemed to further ignite Sylus’s temper. You noticed the telltale shimmer of his Evol — the familiar red energy crackling around his tiny form, pulsing with irritation. You gently patted his head, offering what little comfort you could, then set him carefully on his feet, telling him to go somewhere so as to not risk the chances of Philip being evaporated. Sylus reluctantly agreed and trotted away after promising to not touch anything else. 

You turned back to Philip, exhaling a slow breath. “The longer he stays like this, the angrier he gets,” you said. “Do you have anything that can reverse the effect?”

Philip tapped his chin thoughtfully, eyes drifting toward the remnants of his failed invention. “Nothing at the moment,” he admitted. “But I have been developing a counter-agent — something to reverse the regression effect. I’ve got a few prototypes I can begin testing right away. If I manage to create a viable solution, I’ll have Luke and Kieran deliver it to you.”

“How long do you think that’ll take?” you asked, brow furrowed.

“Give me five, maybe six hours,” he replied. “I’ll work as quickly as I can.”

You nodded in understanding. Five to six hours with a miniaturized Sylus… manageable. Hopefully.

After exchanging a few more words with Philip — mostly warnings and a half-hearted apology from his side — you turned to look for your pint-sized lover. What greeted you nearly made you choke on a laugh.

You had turned your back for five minutes.

He’s drawn an elaborate chalk mural on the wall featuring Philip as a monster and you as a superhero wielding a gun of justice.

Philip stares at it.

"...He’s not wrong," you say, your cheeks hurting from smiling so hard at his antics. Philip just sighs, returning inside to work on the prototype before bidding you goodbye.

You made your way over to your tiny lover, who immediately turned around with an eager gleam in his crimson eyes. He patted the wall’s surface with one small hand, proudly trying to divert your attention to what he clearly deemed a masterpiece. You couldn’t help but smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his soft white hair, lifting him easily into your arms before praising him for his creation, watching as his ears turn slightly pinkish. 

The walk back to his mansion was surprisingly short, not because of the distance, but because of the constant stream of animated chatter coming from Sylus. You hum and respond once in a while, eyes locked on his round face. You’d often wondered what Sylus had been like as a child since he didn’t really have any childhood photos or any sweet memories of those sorts. You once even assumed that he’d had probably been an overall aloof child considering his normal nature. 

But clearly you were mistaken because little Sylus was far from indifferent. He was shorter, chubbier and a total chatterbox with full energy. He kept pressing his tiny palms against your cheeks, forcing your attention to remain on him rather than on the passing scenery. Something about it stirred a deep, unfamiliar sense of affection within you — maternal, perhaps, or simply overwhelming tenderness.

“Whatcha thinking?” He asked, peering up at you from beneath long ivory lashes. 

“I’m thinking…” you began as you stepped into the mansion and carefully kicked off your shoes, mindful not to jostle him, “I could have five little yous running around and still never get tired.”

Sylus giggled, and the sound was so sweet — so utterly uncharacteristic of the man you knew — that it made your heart swell. You cooed at him in response, smiling as his ears turned pink once again. It struck you then — he must have always gotten shy when praised by someone he loved.

You set him down gently and made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water for him. As you filled it, you called out, “Luke? Kieran?”

The twins appeared a second later, popping their heads out from behind a wall in perfect sync before strolling over to you. They leaned casually on the dining table, voices overlapping as they spoke in unison.

“Yes, Missus?”

You handed Sylus the water and turned back to them. “If you get a call from Philip this evening, go to the Odd Workshop and collect whatever he gives you.”

The two exchanged glances and nodded but still asked, “What for, Missus?”

“Sylus turned into the five-year-old version of himself as a result of playing with one of Philip’s peculiar inventions. Philip will be creating a counter-agent to reverse that effect by evening. So, you’ll be picking it up from his place.”

The twins looked at you like you grew two heads before sharing a subtle glance with each other. Their gazes followed you as you walked over to little Sylus and offered him the glass of water. You heard them gasp from behind you as they saw their miniaturized boss-man.

“No gin fizz?” Little Sylus asked, his lips forming a small pout. You patted his head twice, making him finish the glass of water before responding, “You’re five, Sylus.”

“Only by body.” He protested half-heartedly, allowing you to walk away toward the kitchen counter. He noticed the twins staring at him, their jaws dropped in disbelief. He shot them a menacing glare that, unfortunately, didn’t carry much weight due to his adorably cute face.

“Do you think boss-man would like uppies?” Luke whispered to Kieran after a moment of silence.

“Try it, and I’ll break your hands.” Sylus threatened, though the menace was undermined by the childish lilt in his voice. The twins zoomed out of the room in response, but it didn’t take long before they returned, each holding one of the plushies you’d collected over time. They also sported silly hats with fans attached to them, which they had somehow managed to get onto Mephisto as well. Waving the plushies in front of little Sylus’ face, Kieran added, “If not uppies, then surely boss-man would like toys?”

Luke furrowed his brow, falling deep into thought. “Is it ‘boss-man’ or ‘baby boss-man’ now?”

“I think the latter. But is ‘baby boss-man’ okay, or should we change it to ‘boss baby,’ like in the movie?” Kieran voiced his own opinion, and the two of them pondered in silence, while Mephisto let out curious caws in the background.

You could see the slight twitch of annoyance in your lover’s brows as you cut up some fruit for him. His expression made it clear he wasn’t exactly amused by their antics. A few moments later, the twins’ yelps filled the room, followed by the sound of Sylus’s evol lifting them off the ground before spinning them in circles. You didn’t need to look back to confirm — his mischievous smirk was practically radiating from the air.

After a few more minutes, you spoke over your shoulder, “Sylus, that’s enough. Put the twins down.”

He slumped his shoulders, his lips pressed in a pout, but despite his reluctance, he complied.

The twins clutched their heads, their faces pale, leaning against each other to steady themselves. They now knew little Sylus’ favorite game, and with that newfound knowledge, they’d be sure to avoid becoming part of it ever again. Meanwhile, Mephisto emitted unintelligible chatters that almost sounded mocking, as if he were laughing at the twins, prompting them to chase after the crow in frustration.

You pick up the fruit bowl you prepared earlier and make your way over to your miniaturized boyfriend. Gently lifting him into your arms, you carry him to his study and settle into the plush sofa, carefully positioning him on your lap. His gaze immediately lands on the fruit bowl, and you already know — he’s not eating a bite unless you feed him yourself.

Without a word, you pick up an apple slice and bring it to his expectant mouth. He takes it without hesitation, and a fond smile spreads across your lips as you watch him chew with slow, deliberate movements, his tiny baby teeth working adorably. Your eyes wander to his miniature hands, chubby fingers, and the soft curve of his cheeks — each feature impossibly cute and heart-melting. A strange warmth blossoms in your chest.

Once he dutifully finishes the fruit, you shower his face with gentle kisses, unable to resist his charm. You take a playful bite of his squishy cheek, and he squirms away with a bashful laugh, flustered but delighted.

You stretch out your legs, adjusting him slightly on your lap just as Mephisto comes swooping into the study. The mechanical crow flaps in with a small box tied to his claws and drops it onto the table. Your eyes flick to the label — it’s a parcel from Philip. The antidote.

Opening the box, you find a syringe filled with a strange-looking fluid. Meanwhile, Sylus is preoccupied with Mephisto, tugging at the poor bird with all the curiosity and strength of a toddler. You gently free the distressed crow from his tiny grasp and let him fly away with a disgruntled caw.

You prepare the syringe, mentally rehearsing how to administer it without making Sylus cry. But to your astonishment, he simply extends his arm, blinking at you calmly like he was born for this moment. You barely suppress the laughter bubbling in your throat as you inject the cure into his arm. Once done, you toss the used materials into the waste bin nearby.

Little Sylus settles back against you, his small head nestled against your chest and his arms resting at his sides. He lets out a soft yawn, eyelids fluttering.

“You must be tired of taking care of me all day, right?” he asks sleepily.

You stroke a hand gently down his back as he drifts closer to sleep, murmuring mostly to yourself, “Tired? Not even a little. Though I’ll admit… I did catch baby fever — and it’s all your fault.” You smile softly and poke his cheek. “You’d look incredibly hot holding our babies, not gonna lie.”

Your eyes begin to grow heavy too, and you decide to let sleep take you — wrapped around this tiny, precious version of him.

But peace is fleeting.

You're rudely jolted awake by a sharp ache in your limbs from the sudden weight pressing into you — and the restless shifting of said weight. You blink your eyes open, groggy and confused, only to find yourself completely unprepared for the sight before you.

Sylus, in all his fully restored, adult glory, is now straddling your lap. And to your utter disbelief — he’s completely naked. The weight of his shirt over your feet confirms that. You keep your eyes fixed on his face, not daring to look anywhere down. 

“Why are you not decent?” You ask, your voice sharp but wavering slightly under the weight of the scene before you.

Sylus doesn’t answer — not directly. Instead, he tilts his head back, a downright  dangerous smirk playing on his lips as he murmurs, “Baby fever, huh?”

Your breath catches, and you struggle to mask the shock on your face. You’d been certain he was asleep last night — small, drowsy, and curled up against your chest — when you muttered those words. Clearly, you were wrong.

Feigning thoughtfulness, he furrows his silver brows, tapping a slender finger thoughtfully against his chin. “Let me see... Was it just my imagination,” he drawls slowly, “or did you actually say something along the lines of how incredibly hot I’d look holding our babies?”

You quickly avert your gaze, face flushing from the neck up, but Sylus isn’t finished. Gently but firmly, he turns your face back toward him with a soft grip on your chin.

“Babies, hmm? Plural, kitten?” His voice is velvet-smooth, full of teasing delight. “My, my… I never realized my sweet girlfriend harbored such passionate little dreams, tucked away in the quiet corners of her heart.”

Mortified, you bring your hands up to cover your face, hoping to hide the vivid shade of red blooming across your cheeks. Your attempts at explanation tumble out as little more than embarrassed babbling — completely incoherent.

Sylus lets out a quiet chuckle as he captures your wrists, gently drawing your hands away from your face and guiding your eyes back to his. His gaze is molten, ruby irises shimmering with a heat that words can’t quite describe — intense, unspoken, and entirely consuming

He presses himself further into your body and you try to not think too much about what is poking your thighs and instead focus on his next words. He clicks his tongue, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You know… I really am curious how you'd handle five little versions of me. Perhaps it’s time we put that theory to the test, don’t you think?”

Before you can form a coherent response, you barely register the soft click of the study door locking — courtesy of his evol — followed by the warmth of his hand slipping beneath your shirt.

In the next breath, you're on your back, pressed into the cushions of the sofa, his body hovering over yours with practiced ease. That infuriating, devastatingly attractive smirk curves his lips — one laced with unmistakable intent.

And in his eyes, gleaming with heat and purpose, you see it: he’s done teasing. He’s ready to prove just how serious he is.

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[hamzaheaven]

High fic with hamzah?

a/n: writing this fried as fuck so it only seemed right xxxx thank u for the req :’) also first time posting smut im terrified (its written in the way i enjoy smut so no vulgar words, moreso descriptions i guess?? idk pls im ashamed lowkey.) and its long as hell ok ill stop apologising now. sorry

tags: friends to lovers, tension.

warnings: weed smoking, dry humping.

NSFW <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

you feel your eyes strain slightly as the smoke spills from between your lips, your gaze focused mindlessly on the orange tip of the joint. you’re sitting on Hamzah’s bed, your back resting against his headboard. you and him had been friends for a while now, but it was starting to become harder for the both of you to ignore the blatant attraction and tension that lingered between you. the suggestive tones curling around every word, the glances that last a little too long. it was evident in everything, but you both seem to keep skirting around it. tonight, it feels heavier. hamzah had called you earlier, his voice laced with something softer than usual, asking if you wanted to come over and smoke. you didn’t hesitate. now, the two of you exist in easy silence. 

hazily, your attention drifts across the room. Hamzah is sitting in his desk chair, hunched over slightly as he edits a video on his computer. the screen is the only strong illumination in the otherwise dark room, the blue-ish light reflecting off the glasses on his face. your chest rises and falls slowly as you watch him, your eyes flicking across his back. his jaw clenches and unclenches in focus, his fingers moving over his mouse mindlessly. 

as if he notices your dwelling gaze, he turns his head over his shoulder to look back at you. another moment of comfortable, wordless silence passes as you simply stare at him, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

“what?” he quietly asks, the ghost of a chuckle laced within the simple question. even from behind his glasses, you can tell his eyes have turned a little red, too, like your own. 

you blink your eyes slowly, sparking the lighter in your hand a couple of times before shaking your head and shrugging. “nothing,” you mumble back, looking down at the lighter for a moment before back up to him. “admiring my view,” you add, your tone a little unserious as you sit up slightly. 

he immediately returns his attention back to his screen, humorously shaking his head in disapproval. the sound of his mouse clicking is echoing throughout the silence once more. “don’t say that,” he stoically says, “ew,” he adds, but you are quick to catch the tiny twitch of a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.

you can’t help but puff out a laugh, knowing how quickly he cringes at comments like that. silently, you relight the joint, your throat and lungs contracting slightly as you inhale. “you almost done?” you ask, your voice soft as the smoke billows out along with your words. 

he doesn’t respond immediately, humming instead. “yeah, just need to-” he starts, cutting himself off as he clicks around on his screen before continuing his sentence, “cut these clips a bit more…” 

a slightly dramatic sigh falls from your lips as you place the joint on the ashtray on his bedside table. “well, you better hurry up, or there won’t be anything left for you to smoke,” you reply, your words carrying a teasingly taunting tone. 

he clicks his tongue in response, still keeping his eyes focused on the screen. “don’t you dare,” he mumbles, his mouse now moving faster across his computer as you amusedly continue to watch. he takes another five agonisingly long minutes to finish up, turning his monitor off before sliding the desk chair back and getting up. in the now mostly dark room, he stretches, his bones crackling a little, a soft groan eliciting from his throat. you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, the same sheepish grin still on your face as he sluggishly pads over to the bed. “scoot,” he mumbles, scratching his hair and waving his hand for you to move to the other side of his bed. 

you do as he says, moving over to make room for him, your movements a little slower and heavier than usual. the mattress dips beside you, his body plopping down on where you had previously been sitting. a deep exhale passes through his lips as he sinks deeper against the pillows, shifting to get more comfortable. your eyes feel heavy as they seem glued to him, tentatively watching his every move. his fingers reach for the joint resting on the ashtray, taking off his glasses with his other hand. he looks at the joint for a second, before sparking the lighter, the orange flame illuminating his face in the dark room. you swallow sharply, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and lolling your head back gently against the headboard. hamzah’s yet to notice your shameless staring as he takes a long drag, inhaling before the smoke billows back out of his nose and parted lips. finally, he turns his head your way, catching your gaze as it was already on him. he mirrors your movements, resting his head on the headboard as well. 

the atmosphere in the room feels a little loaded, the tension between him and you almost palpable in the air, the effects of the marijuana only intensifying it. neither of you look away. his gaze flickers down for a second—just barely. it’s quick, but you catch it. the subtle drop of his eyes, lingering just a second too long on your lips before they snap back up to meet yours.

inhaling sharply, you move a little closer, teasingly placing your hand on his upper thigh as you lean over him, reaching for the joint he had laid back on the ashtray. he flexes the muscles in his thighs in reaction to your touch. your head feels fuzzy, your eyelids strained as you relight the tip, staying in place instead of moving back to your previous spot on the bed. the smoke passes through your parted lips, the taste of the green plant lingering in your mouth before you turn to look at Hamzah. 

his head is lolled back against the headboard as he watches you through low eyes, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. he shifts slightly as you keep your hand on his thigh, leaning on him to prop yourself up a little as you turn your body towards him fully. with your blood-shot eyes, you keep them locked onto his own, taking another drag before tentatively leaning closer. he watches with anticipation as you stop inches in front of his face, blowing the smoke against his parted lips teasingly. you flip the joint around in your fingers for him to wrap his lips around the end, but he doesn’t react for a moment. he seems to contemplate something, his chest rising and falling slowly as he blinks at you. 

wordlessly, he gently moves your hand away from his face, taking the joint from between your fingers and placing it on the ashtray. “c’mere,” he then mumbles, shortly nudging his chin upwards. his hand gently traces up your arm and into the crook of your neck, his fingers lacing in the hair at the back of your neck. you feel your chest flutter slightly at his soft command, watching gingerly as he tugs your face closer to his. 

teasingly, he ghosts his parted lips against yours, grinning to himself. he juts out his bottom lip a little, an airy exhale rolling off your tongue as it touches your mouth. you move your head to the other side, trying to find a way around his teasing, but he doesn’t immediately let up. instead, he removes his thumb from the back of your neck, carefully tracing it along your jawline until it reaches your bottom lip. he pads the finger across the soft, slightly damp skin. you can’t help but stifle a sigh, placing your other hand on his chest gently. a little frustratedly, you curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. 

he notices your frustrated gesture, biting back a light chuckle. his free hand tugs on your thigh, guiding your body to straddle his lap with heavy and slow movements. he exhales against your parted lips once more, teasing the tightened tether of tension carelessly once more before finally giving in. 

your hands slide up to his neck, your spine arching slightly as he gently presses his lips against yours. the dense haze in your head lifts just a little at the feeling, the hand that isn’t curled into the hair at the back of your head moving up your thigh and under your shirt. you inhale sharply against his mouth at his rather cold fingers stretching across the warm skin of your bare back. he applies a gentle pressure, pushing you down onto him a little. his eyebrows furrow, his heavy eyes fluttering shut at the friction. in response, you gently dig your nails into the back of his head. shivers continue to roll down your spine as he keeps his cold hand there, absentmindedly guiding the way you’re moving. 

you pull a hand through your hair, moving it out of the way, never breaking the kiss. something about the effects of the weed seems to make every touch, sound and move feel like a breathtaking bliss. a low, soft exhale tumbles from his throat, strangling into a whiny, barely audible moan. “fuck,” he curses against your lips when you roll your hips, just barely, experimentally, and a sharp inhale cuts through the space between you.

his fingers dig into your waist like he’s attempting to ground himself. his breath shudders as your hips roll over him again. his head falls back against the headboard with a quiet, broken sound—something between a sigh and a whimper. you can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles go taut beneath your hands, the way his grip on you wavers between restraint and desperation.

“f-fuck,” he repeats, his voice thin and unsteady. he’s already unraveling, his chest rising and falling faster as his hands twitch against your skin. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this—so quickly undone, so easily wrecked just by the slow grind of your hips, the teasing drag of your fingers up his chest. 

you curl your spine slightly, leaning down as your lips ghost over his jaw, trailing down to the side of his neck, where you press a single, deliberate kiss to the warm skin just below his ear. his whole body tenses beneath you, a shaky, barely-contained whimper tumbling from his lips. 

“please–,” he starts, but he can’t seem to finish the sentence. his hands flex on your waist, his eyebrows furrowing deeper, his voice soft and whiny. 

you hum against his neck, the vibration making him shiver. “please, what? hm?” you murmur, your lips brushing against his pulse point, pressing a deep kiss there. 

he swallows hard, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “don’t… don’t stop,” he stammers, his voice catching on the words. His fingers twitch against your skin, restless, desperate, barely able to even guide your movements anymore. 

you pull back just enough to look at him, your gaze flickering over his face. his lips are parted, slightly swollen from how hard he’s been biting down on them in an attempt to be quieter. his pupils are blown wide, a deep furrow in his eyebrows. he looks wrecked already, and you’ve barely even touched him.

you tilt your head slightly as you listen to his quiet plea, making the coil in your lower abdomen tighten. your fingers tentatively trace the hem of his shirt before slipping beneath the fabric, dragging your nails lightly up his stomach. his breath stutters at the touch, and when you press them down slightly, just enough to make him feel it, he lets out a high, needy whimper. 

his hands shoot up, gripping your wrists like he’s trying to stop you—but his hold is weak, like he doesn’t actually want you to stop. “wait… wait,” he tries, his voice barely above a whisper, breathy and shaking, giving away he doesn’t want to cum so quick. his head tilts back, his eyes fluttering shut. his chest is heaving as you curiously halt your movements. 

you lean in again, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone. “you’re so sensitive,” you murmur against his skin, and the way his breath catches, the way his thighs flex beneath you, tells you everything you need to know. you gently continue moving, bringing back the friction that was making him writhe underneath you. his taut muscles immediately melt again under your body, a whiny exhale falling from his parted lips. 

“y/n–...” he tries to speak, but your name is quick to die in his throat when you grind against him again, slower this time, more deliberate. his hands clench and unclench at your sides, his breathing turning into short, hitched gasps. his voice wavers, and then he lets out a soft, whiny moan that makes your pulse spike. you watch as his head turns to the side, his skin burning, like he’s embarrassed by the sounds slipping out of his mouth. 

but you don’t want him to be quiet. 

tilting his chin back toward you with a gentle hand, you hover just inches from his lips, your thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth. “don’t hide from me,” you murmur, your voice softer now, coaxing, suggestive on the shell of his ear. “I want to hear you.”

his breath shudders, his grip on you tightening for a split second before going slack again. another curse word tumbles from his lips, his head dropping forward, his voice coming out in airy whines. “fuck… i’m, s-so close,” he stumbles over his whispered words, his chest heaving. 

you watch him, your own breath catching in your throat now, too. 

he lifts his head again, messily searching for your lips with his own, breathing raggedly. his grip on you is tight; harsh, almost as you continue rolling your hips, feeling how he pushes his own hips up every now and then. his whole body is tense, caught between pleasure and overwhelming sensitivity, and the way he’s looking at you—dazed, unfocused, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded—only spurs you on.

your mouths sloppily connect once more, and you can tell he’s struggling to focus. 

hamzah is trembling slightly beneath you now, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps as you keep moving against him, your nails roaming his back with deliberate slowness. his head tilts back, exposing the long curve of his throat, and the soft, desperate sounds spilling from his lips are enough to send heat pooling low in your stomach.

“i cant h… im gonna–,” his voice breaks on a whimper, the muscles in his thighs going taut, a string of loud moans following his cut off words. you watch with parted lips as his head drops back against the headboard. his expression contorts with the overwhelming ecstasy that thrills through all of his nerve endings, your nails digging into the skin of his chest as you feel the muscles in his stomach contract and release in rhythm with his whiny moans. they slowly grow softer, and you bite back a brief chuckle as you feel a growing, warm, wet spot in his pants underneath you. his hands slide down from your waist to your hips, his chest still rapidly rising and falling. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, seeming to relish in the sensations pulsating through his body. 

you swallow sharply, deliberately shifting a little on top of him, causing him to wince a little at the overstimulation of the sensitive area. he lazily opens his eyes into yours, his lips a little puffy and glistening as he keeps them parted, his panting slowing down slightly. his eyes are still a little unfocused and hazy as he flickers them across your face for a moment, a glint of endearment in them. he then drops his gaze down to his crotch, groaning a little. “look at this fucking mess,” he mumbles, also noticing the wet spot in the fabric, along with some of it splayed out on the skin of his stomach where his shirt had moved up. 

a breathy chuckle falls from your lips as he looks back up at you. “why would you make me ruin a perfectly good pair of sweatpants like that?” he asks jokingly, his eyes still half-lidded as he amusedly gazes at your state; a pink hue on your cheeks, lips puffy and damp, eyes heavy and your hair a little disheveled. he carefully wraps his arms around your waist, craning his neck so he can comfortably press a sweet, simple kiss on your mouth. 

you shrug playfully, grinning into the kiss. “my bad.”

[lunebulous]

Sylus - Seeing you as a Bride

C.w: Fluff, honey-dripping fluff. Luke and Kieran being Luke and Kieran. Sylus being a loverboy like he is. Reader is refered to as she/her. It's not a wedding. A.N: This took so long to write but i'm very satisfied with the plot, although I wish I could have written it better. I hope you enjoy. Truly! Word count: 4k. Dividers by @cafekitsune

“White..?” Sylus cocks a brow, chuckling a little. “Why white, sweetie?” He asks while holding your arm on his, walking on the well illuminated streets of Linkon, as you watch your own feet on the still wet sidewalk. “Because it brings good luck! And peace!” You smile at him. “I always wore white for New Year’s Eve.” 

“And did it once bring you good luck? Peace?” He looks at the trees, still a little reluctant on walking you home; but since you asked him so nicely using your dangerous puppy eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. He wished you’d sleep at his place, but he wasn’t going to force you. Never. “Good luck..” You look at him, mumbling more to yourself than to answer him. Your eyes wander to his defined jaw, his hair that is so soft to your touch, and his flushed cheeks that he never hesitated leaning on your hands when you caressed him with your whole heart. He looks back at you, sensing your gaze burning on the side of his face, and he’s surprised by how much love he sees in your eyes. You’re adoring him right now, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. So he just. Readjusts your scarf; in a way to redirect his gaze away from your sweet face. “I could say that..”  you continue, nuzzling your nose on his shoulder as you smile, feeling contentment on your chest sprawling to your whole body.

He scoffs playfully, pretending to not feel so bubbly because of so little, but you catch his little smirk. He couldn’t help it. You melt him completely with a bat of your eyelashes. He just looks away a little, as he would be embarrassed if you caught him blushing like a little girl.

“Sy?” He looks at you, coming back to earth after quickly wondering if his heart had ever felt this way before. “Yes?” you gaze at his softened eyes. 

“You didn’t answer me… About wearing white..” Now you use your other hand to tightly hug his arm. 

“Of course. Guess I’ll change into something lighter for once.” He glances at your both hands on his bicep. “Is it easier for you to spot me if I'm wearing white, kitten?” “Spot you?” you look up at him.

“The N109-Zone is dark. And since you’re holding onto me with such claws, I figured you are just afraid of losing me out of sight.” “Ah, shut up a little. You’re too full of yourself.” “I’m not the one clinging to you like you’ll run away if I don't.” He chuckles amusingly. Sylus will never admit he loves when you mindlessly pull him closer - and since you both got into a more stable kind of relationship, it has been happening more frequently. You get your arms out of his, distancing yourself and walking by his side with a weird distance between you two.

“It 's okay! Won’t do it anymore then!” You pout a little, playing angry. “Oh no!” He coos. “No one to hold me back. Guess I will run away then…” And as soon as you roll your eyes at his terrible acting skills, his entire figure disappears in a red mist, swirling in the air before dissolving into the cold night’s breeze.

You stop in your tracks, eyes widened and suddenly aware that you’re alone, at night, still considerably far away from home. You get a hold onto your scarf, discreetly looking to the sides so as to not boost his ego too much - you knew he was still around somewhere, he'd never leave you unnatended - but the feeling of being watched on a completely silent street got your heart beating faster.

“Sy..?” your voice coming out as a whisper; and you feel energy shifting behind your back. You turn abruptly, and there he is, with that smug look upon his annoying face, offering his arm for you to hold onto again.

“What happened, little dove?” he holds back a laugh as you hook your arm on his once more. “I hate you.” “You love me, sweetheart.” he takes the side of your face on his other hand, bringing you closer before landing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

“She has boss wrapped around her finger...” Luke quietly chuckles, elbowing Kieran - equally excited - as they both watch Sylus talking on his phone, ordering white uniforms for the twins. There’s a glare on his eyes, and both twins instantly shut up.

“No need for the white version of the masks. They won’t wear any.” Sylus turns his back to the twins, putting them in their place.  “But boss! We can’t be seen-” Kieran interrupts, stepping forward “She’ll see us- and she’ll know that-” Sylus suddenly shows his phone, a black screen. He turned off the call before teasing them. “Haaaaaa!” Luke sighs, and then laughs as if he wasn’t desperate a second earlier. “You got us.” Kieran chuckles, pretending to faint on his brother’s shoulder. Sylus faintly smirks at the scene, putting the phone away as he strides towards the hallway, now focused on what he should wear for you. White, as you asked.

Alone at the big office, the twins stare at each other. “But why white?” “I don’t know.” Luke looks at the mansion’s entrance through the window. “Maybe there’s a reason, or maybe she just really likes that color.” “She wouldn’t make us wear it too if she just really liked the color. Do you think they’re planning something?” Kieran thinks fast, as expected of Onichynus' leader's henchmen. 

“Planning something? Like what? A wedding?” Luke starts to laugh, but stops as he looks at Kieran, who stopped too. “A wedding?” Kieran repeats. “Didn’t they.. just recently admitted they were into each other?” Luke stares at his twin, confused.

“Yeah. And boss wouldn’t propose like that. No.” Kieran states. “Yeah, no, he wouldn’t. I bet he’d go all out too.” They start giggling like teenage girls, teasing each other about it for a good minute.

“But she’ll wear white then. Right?” Kieran smirks mischievously. “U-huh.” Luke smirks too, sensing what his twin is thinking about. 

“Let’s. Do a little surprise. If she wears a dress. We could play a wedding march as she comes in.” Luke suggests. “We could even get him to stand at the end of the hallway.” “Who would play the wedding march, dumbass?” Kieran slaps Luke in the shoulder. “He is the one who knows how to play it!” 

“What is your suggestion then?! A bouquet? He already gets her flowers all the time!” Luke silently screams at his twin. Kieran gets silent for some time, deep in thought. “Oh. Oh! Oooh! I know what! Oh, I know just what to do!” Kieran gets up, pacing around the room excitedly. “Come with me. We need to buy something. Fast.” 

You have the passcode. You also have your eyes, which if scanned, can open the door to his base. But you feel a little bit nervous for some reason, your heart almost getting out of your chest. It’s the first time you dressed up a little bit more to see Sylus - and you had your motives. It’s New Year’s Eve after all and you want to start it right, looking and feeling pretty. But at the same time, you’re nervous - you are not the type of girl to wear a dress often, and you’re having that kind of imposter feeling of not being a real dress-wearer, just faking it. You chuckle at your own thoughts, standing still and feeling a little embarrassed with yourself, as you just need to open the door and get in as you already did so many times before. But now it’s different. Sylus knows you like him and… He’ll see you dolled up.. and know it’s for him. And he’ll get so cocky about it too… God, just open the door. You hear a click, getting startled but playing it cool.

“You should have just-” Luke grins widely, you just know by the tone of his voice. His mask looks down at your outfit choice. “Opened the door.” Kieran appears from behind him. “Looking cute, Miss Hunter.” You look delicate, like you rarely do, in their eyes. He gestures for you to enter. “Thank you! You guys are looking great! I didn’t think you’d be wearing white too!” You get inside, looking at them from head to toe. Their uniforms are now white, still having red streaks and details occasionally. “It strangely suits you!” “Yeah, boss made us-” Kieran stomps at his feet “ We didn’t want to be left out.”

You let out a loud laugh. “He always finds a way, doesn’t he?” You start walking through the long and decorated hallway, admiring the fairy lights adorning the otherwise cold mansion. The twins follow you shortly after. “He does.” Kieran looks at Luke quickly. You don’t catch it. “Miss, there’s something else for you upstairs. We got you a gift because..” Luke chimes in. “ You are now getting closer to us and you’re always down for pranking boss and you’re even spending the nights with-” Kieran interrupts Luke. “What matters is that.. we thought it’d be nice to demonstrate that you’re always welcome.” They both sigh in unison, raising your suspicions. “Where’s Sylus?”  You ask, stopping at the foot of the stairs and looking around with a polite smile on your face. 

“He’s going to be there too.” Kieran starts going up, nodding with his head upwards for you to follow him. And you do, realizing they are unbelievably quiet. Entering the bedroom you usually stay when you’re spending the night with them, you notice some small changes. There’s even more fairy lights, the only source responsible for lighting up the whole room; On your bedside table, there’s a small and black velvet box, still closed. The curtains that are usually closed, are now open, inviting you to feel the chill night’s air on your skin. There’s a record player sitting on your dressing table, with a record already on it, playing a soft piano song in a low volume. Luke is in front of you, facing the window, and Kieran is closing the door behind him. “Wow. Why all that?” You get unexpectedly surprised at the twins’ ‘thoughtfulness’, smiling.

“All that? You didn’t see anything yet!” Luke turns around to look at you. “Give me your phone, please. For the full experience.” He extends a hand to you. “My phone..?” you look at him, already catching onto something. “Why?” You’re already used to their little jokes, so you learned to not simply trust them everytime. “You look good in a white dress, miss!” Kieran steps in, rescuing his brother with a change of plans. They wanted your phone so they could text Sylus to meet you here, but you were already too aware of their movements. “You know what’s missing?” Kieran steps closer to you as you turn around to face him.

As soon as you do, you feel a pair of hands on your head, hearing a click. There’s a light weight on your hair now, and as you spin to stare at Luke, you see it. He put a veil on you. “Luke!” you step forward to slap his chest - “What the hell!” You start feeling your neck and chest burning up, the light graze of the long veil brushing against the side of your arms, engulfing you more and more as you move. You try to look behind your back to see its full length, but end up just twirling around. You realize how well it goes with your dress, your breath quickening. “Aw, you even like it!” Kieran teases as he holds his own cell phone behind his back, calling Sylus. Both the twins chuckle amusingly at the faint pink hue on your cheeks. “I bet Boss will love seeing you like that.” Your eyes widen. “Don’t you fucking dare!” You glare at Kieran now, as you try to take the veil off with your hands, but you don’t quite understand what kind of attachment it has.

You breathe deeply, closing your eyes to focus on the texture of it in your hands, figuring it out. It doesn’t seem to be a clip-on veil, like you expected. It’s not a headband type either. Fuck, where did they-

“Look, there’s more!” Luke drags a part of your veil to the front, revealing that it is in fact, a blusher veil. You freeze for a second, before feeling your cheeks burn and your throat go dry. You’re feeling like a bullied kid in kindergarten.

You would take it off your face if not for the fact you were with both your hands occupied, almost figuring out how to take it off. You then catch Kieran nodding towards Luke, and Luke takes something from your bedside table. You realize there’s more to their little act and as you wonder what it could be, it dawns on you. Sylus. No way. 

You let go of the veil to grab one of them, but it’s too late.

The door opens, and there he is. As soon as he gets in, he stops in his tracks, letting the twins rush towards the hallway, almost running. He immediately understands what happened - he knows how the twins are - but. He can’t move fast enough, seeing you like this. He swallows.

His eyes run over your off-white sheath dress, one that’s tight on your upper body but flows freely from your waist down. It has off-the-shoulder sleeves that bring a subtle femininity and cuteness to it. You look adorably vulnerable with the surprised look on your face, making his heart flutter. The veil frames your naked shoulders like a painting, and your hair, styled in soft waves, cascades in front of your chest. He stands still, staring. You’re immediately overwhelmed by his reaction, watching him analyze each one of your features. His gaze wanders all over you, making your skin hot and breathing stall. Your hands are glued to your sides, into little fists. His expression slowly melts from surprise to adoration as he tries to regain a certain composure to face you. He inhales quickly, ready to sigh. He notices you’re almost crying from embarrassment and he doesn’t want to make it worse for you. What he fails to realize is that he is also wearing white. You’re also seeing him… as a groom. The only sound that can be heard is the soft music playing. You decide to say something.

“Sy..” your voice ends up sounding a bit more hurt than you intended, and you look away from him - guiding your hands to your head again, finally taking the veil off, sliding smoothly against your hair. His eyes widened in protest. “I’m so-” “Don’t.” He exhales heavily, stepping closer cautiously. “I didn’t memorize you well enough.” He looks at you with contracted brows. He closes the distance between you both, softly cupping your cheek and making you look at him. “Please, sweetie.” His other hand holds your arm, his thumb caressing you in an attempt to comfort you as he almost pleads with his eyes. “There’s only me here.” You’re still holding the veil to your side, feeling a lump in your throat. It’s all too much - Sylus in white, the veil, the music playing as he looks at you like this. You feel like you could implode, your hands trembling softly while your heart beats as fast as lightning.

“That 's.. I know it’s only you, that’s the problem…” You mumble. 

“If I can’t see you like this now, what can I do to earn that right, my love?” Love. He never called you that before.

He softly glides his hand from your upper arm to your elbow, searching for your gaze. Slowly descending, he takes the veil from your hand. You look at it, the thin material looking so fragile in his big hands. 

“It’s not that you can’t..-” 

“So can I?” He asks, now using both his hands to hold the white fabric. He asks, for the first time feeling unsure of your answer. He doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed anymore but - he needs to see it again. He needs to commit you to memory and you took that away from him, not letting him bask in your appearance for long enough. 

“May I?” He brings the veil closer to the crown of your head, looking at the comb-like attachment, full of improvised clip-ins. The twins really did predict you’d try to take it off. He waits for an answer before continuing, the veil hovering over your head.

You gaze at his feet, his white trousers, his white button-up shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He’s wearing the watch you told him you loved. You finally reach his eyes, and you could never say no to the way they were almost-imperceptibly watering. You breathe in. “You may.” 

He smiles, a faint and singular dimple softly showing. You feel your knees getting weak at the sight. Since when did he-! You never even noticed he had one..! Or maybe he never smiled so widely for you to notice it. He places the veil on your hair, attaching it normally - not using the thousands of mechanisms the twins somehow installed on it to gain time. His hands work gently against your hair, making you get goosebumps. He notices, but chooses to not say a thing about it. He plants a kiss to your forehead, before slowly bringing the blusher veil to your face. He steps back just a little, to look at you fully. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “So beautiful.”

The veil on your face makes you feel brave enough to fully look at his eyes again. Through the white haze, you watch as he takes a hand to cover his mouth, quickly disguising it as if he’s adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Thank you, Sy..” you mutter. And your sweet voice is his last straw. With a step closer, he suddenly engulfs you in a hug, that slowly gets tighter. Your hands rest against his chest, taken by surprise at his abrupt movement. You feel his heartbeat, fast and thundering against your hand. He doesn’t let you go until you breathe in… and out. Relaxing with a stuttered sigh; a breath you didn’t know you were holding in - but he noticed. Now you were safe, in his arms. Like you were always meant to be.

You feel his right hand on your left shoulder create some distance, and with a movement of his fingers, the music gets just a little bit louder. He used his evol. He starts swaying side to side with you, his chin resting on your head.

“Sweetie.” His deep voice was laced with vulnerability. “It seems you were right.” He closes his eyes. Swaying... Left.. Right.. Left.. Right.. Slow..

“About what..?” You look up at him, freeing yourself just a little bit from his embrace. “Wearing white brought me luck.” 

You chuckle softly at his sweet words, but there’s raw sincerity in them, and hearing you laugh makes his heart twist. He loves you so much. Left.. Right.. Swaying.. Left.. Right..

Every fiber of his being would be incomplete without you, and he wants you to be sure of that. Of the lengths he’d go to see you happy, safe, fulfilled. He wishes he could be everything you need - the air you breathe. Since he can’t, he decides to take it away - if only for a fleeting moment. He stops swaying - and your heart skips a beat. You tilt your head to face him.

In a controlled but quick motion, he takes the veil back, uncovering you. Holding your face with both his hands, he breathes in, getting more desperate as the seconds go by, looking at your dilated pupils as if asking for permission. You nod. And his lips land on yours, a low hum on his throat as he tilts his head to kiss you. It starts gentle, his lips slightly sucking on yours as his fingers dive on your hair. You pull him closer by the waist, reciprocating as your back arches to taste him better. He starts licking your lips, wanting more of your taste. You let him in, a soft sigh being swallowed by him. Your hands gently squeeze his waist as you get breathless, and he pulls away - only to leave a handful of slow and intimate pecks against your cheek, the corner of your lips, your nose, your other cheek. His breathing is messy, but so is yours. He gazes at you for a moment, silently admiring your flushed state.

“There is no greater luck than having you.” He speaks quietly as he takes you in his embrace again. He doesn’t want to let you go so soon. Over your shoulder, he remembers Luke gave something to him on his way out. Discreetly, he reaches for his pocket, without raising your attention. He feels a black velvet box, and he opens it behind your back. There’s the ring he bought some time ago, for you. He chuckles. You raise your head at him, asking what happened. He uses his other hand to lay your head against his chest, saying it’s nothing. “Let me have you like this for a moment, sweetie.” A ring. The twins are unbelievable. You deserve more, so much more than this as your proposal. He expected them to know that by now. But you can’t find out, so he places it back in his pocket before hugging you again. Nuzzling against your neck, he tries to make you laugh - he knows how ticklish you are. His hands find their way to your ribs, softly tickling you. As you start giggling and pushing him away, he feels like he has his whole world right in front of him. But suddenly- A flashing light. You both startle, looking out the open window immediately. Luke has a camera on his hands, outside the railing of a balcony that faces your window, supporting his weight with one foot. And of course Kieran is the one holding him up by the waist, so his brother can take a picture of you two.  “Aww man!! I didn’t think you’d notice!” Luke screams, disappointed.

You feel heat creeping up your neck again. They’re beyond belief.

“I told you to not turn on the flash!!” Kieran scolds him.

“But it turned out so cute, look!” Luke shows something to Kieran.

“Oh.” Kieran stops for a second. “Hell yeah you’re totally right.” They both laugh.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose, and as the scene unfolds your embarrassment gives way to laughter. You try not to care so much about them - you’re getting used to it. “Let’s go already, Sy.” You fully get out of his embrace, still laughing.

He can’t help but laugh a little too, as Luke almost falls off the balcony after Kieran gets distracted. “Yes. After you, sweetheart.” He signals for you to go first, opening the door. And as he closes it behind him, his other hand caresses the little velvet box.

Soon. Just a little more.

[withwritersblock]

Back to Friends

~Back to Friends by sombr~

Author's note: Requested! A lot of the back story timeline is a little inaccurate but anyways its fan fiction for a reason lmaoo... Also it's a long one with lots of badly written vanilla smut so ummmm yeah. The ending could've been a lot better but ummmm anyways... personally I love this fic but definitely a little all over the place plot wise but enjoy :) Summary: A summer friends with benefits that ends? maybe? Warnings: SMUT 18+, pretty vanilla nothing too crazy lol Word Count: 27,254 Jack Hughes x fm!reader

December 2022

He was in Detroit for the night. He had a game against the Red Wings and would get back to Jersey after two in the morning. But tonight he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t even late, but he always craved a full night's rest before an important game. They were on a three game losing streak and needed a win more than anything.

His phone lit up beside him on the night stand of the hotel bed. He let out a huff of air as he reached for it. He saw a text from Y/N. His eyes widened as he reached for it.

Y/N and Jack have known each other since they were seventeen. While Jack was playing for the developmental league, they met and became instant friends. Her brother used to work for the arena the team had practiced at. In the beginning, there was flirty tension. But for a while after that, there was nothing that ended up spiraling out of it.

She was going to school for soccer and he was on the verge of getting drafted. There was no need. Instead they became close friends. 

Well, she became a close mutual friend. She went to Chapman University for soccer and since she knew Trevor as well. She became good friends with Trevor and with Jack by adjacent. 

Trevor and Y/N were the definition of platonic. She never looked at him in that way and neither did he. It was almost as if they were automatically best friends. But after she graduated from Chapman, she started an on screen reporting job for the BigTen with UMich. She jumped between football and basketball for her reporter duties. 

Jack pulled the phone towards his face, reading the message: Good luck tomorrow! I’ll be there cheering you on! He smiled softly as he read the message over and over. He took a deep breath as he brought the phone towards his ear. It rang a few times before she answered.

“Hey J,” she said cheerfully into the phone. 

“Are you busy right now?” the question left his lips faster than he intended for it. He cleared his throat as he leaned up on his elbows. 

“I’m in bed right now, what are you asking, J?” she asked, laughing awkwardly. 

A wide grin formed on his lips as he tilted his head to the side. A breathy laugh left his lips as he slowly sat up, swinging his legs off of the bed. “Wanna come to my hotel? I can’t sleep,” he asked, his heart slamming against his chest. 

“I probably won’t be there until like 10:30, is that still fine?” she asked as she began to shuffle on her end of the phone. Jack bit his bottom lip as he tilted his head back. 

“Yeah, definitely. If you want to come by,” Jack said as he grinned, hearing her move about on her end of the phone. 

“I’ll be there, send me the address please,” she offered as she drew out the last word. He chuckled as he began to walk towards the bathroom of the hotel.

“Will do, I’ll send you my room number too,” he explained before he hung up the phone. 

He flipped the light switch, letting the LED lights burn his eyes. Jack started typing into his phone, sending her the information. He rested his phone onto the bathroom counter, he looked towards his reflection in the mirror. His hair was messily laid across his forehead. His hair was freshly cut, the shortest it’s been in the past year. 

He walked towards the shower, turning it on. The water shot out, instantly creating steam in the bathroom. He dropped his shorts and quickly stepped inside. His muscles tensed under the hot water cascading over his frame. Slowly tilting his head back, allowing the water to hit his face.

His mind was starting to wander, almost reminding himself of the way he used to think about her. How often her smile lit up a room and how contagious her laughter was for a room. There was a time he did everything in his power to hear her laugh. It was the best sound in the world.

After he got drafted, he was having the hardest year of his life. The NHL was nothing like he had expected. The comments about his abilities were detrimental to his mental health. For a while, the only person who could make him feel better was Y/N. Hearing her voice alone was enough for him to feel better. She even knew what to say to make him feel confident again. 

The summer after his rookie year, she started joining the boys on the boys trip. She fit in like a glove. The three summers since have been the same. Jack wanted to see her more, maybe needed to see her some more. 

After an hour, Jack was waiting for her on his bed. His TV was showing an old romantic comedy from the early 2000s. He couldn’t figure out the title of the film. Instead, his attention was towards his phone. He was scrolling through TikTok patiently waiting for Y/N to show up. 

His phone screen lit up with a FaceTime from Luke. Jack didn’t hesitate to answer it. Luke’s face popped up instantly. “What’s up, Lukey?” he asked as he glanced towards the door, almost expecting her to be here already. It was almost 10:30.

“Do you want to get lunch before your game tomorrow?” Luke questioned as he was walking around his kitchen.

“Yeah definitely, got any ideas?” Jack offered.

“Uhm–” Luke was interrupted as there was a loud knock against Jack’s door. A smile instantly formed on his lips.

“Can we decide this tomorrow Lukey? I gotta go,” Jack offered quickly. 

“Who’s at your door?” Luke asked while chuckling nervously.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack said as he hung up the phone. He jogged towards it, looking through the peephole. He saw Y/N standing outside of his door. He grinned as he pulled the door open quickly. 

She was standing outside of his door, her frame covered by a pair of sweatpants and an Anaheim Ducks t-shirt. He shook his head as his grin fell from his lips. “You’re evil,” he mumbled as he reached towards her. Pulling her against his chest as he stumbled backwards into the hotel room. 

A giggle fell from her lips as she wrapped her arms around the center of Jack’s back. He rocked her side to side inside of the hotel room, letting the door shut behind them. Her laugh practically echoed in his mind, making his heart flutter slightly. 

“Hey J,” she mumbled against his chest. He ran his hand through her hair soothingly. 

Neither of them pulled away. Staying in each other’s arms for definitely too long. Jack loved the perfume she would always wear. It was a mixture of something floral and sweet. All he knows is that it was intoxicating. 

“I’ve missed you,” Jack whispered into her ear. A soft giggle fell from her lips as she pulled back. Jack’s hands slid off of her frame, slowly dropping them to his side. Awkwardly, she stood in front of him; her gaze avoiding his light eyes.

“I’ve missed you too,” she offered quietly, taking a hesitant step towards him. He shifted his weight form on foot to the other as he watched her avoid his eye. She took a deep breath, “Why didn’t you call your brother? He could’ve kept you company,” she offered.

He chuckled dryly, “I’ll see him tomorrow,”

“You were gonna see me tomorrow,” she said as she stepped towards him. Jack swallowed harshly as he watched her tilt her head up. Their eyes met again, her lips curling upward slightly.

“You’re better company,” he let out shrugging his shoulders. She nodded slowly.

Their eyes remained connected, perhaps saying things that their lips were too afraid to let slip out. Jack’s heart was beating so rapidly as his frame was itching with anticipation. He didn’t know what it was but his gaze lowered towards her lips. Her lips were covered with a clear pink gloss, his mind wandered towards the idea of what it tasted like. If it was a hint of strawberry or if it was just the color of the gloss. 

“J?” she asked softly. 

He began to blink rapidly as he shook his head slightly, “Wanna lay down? Watch a movie, maybe?” he asked, pointing towards the bed. Clearing her throat, she nodded as she began to walk past him towards the bed.

Without fully realizing what he was doing, Jack took a hold of her arm pulling her back towards him. Lifting her head up, a sudden gasp left her lips. Jack leaned down, urgently pressing his lips against hers. At first she didn’t react, the shock froze her body still. 

The moment she began to kiss him back, Jack pulled back. Dropping his arms to the side. Her eyes widened slightly as a wave of heat engulfed her frame.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking–” he let out nervously. He was about to take a step back as she reached towards him, taking a hold of his neck. She pulled him towards her, kissing him with the same sense of urgency. 

He reached towards her waist, pressing her body against his as he began to guide her towards the bed. The backs of her legs hit the mattress, she began to kick off her shoes as their lips remained connected. 

His hands tugged at the t-shirt on her frame. He knew she only wore it to piss him off, it worked. He used the loose ends of the shirt to pull her towards him. Feeling the fabric stretch slightly at his attempt. 

Both of her hands found his hair, tugging at the strands as she craved to get closer to him. He pulled back, his breathing completely unsteady as he took a hold of his own shirt. Taking it off of his frame, he threw it to a random corner in the small hotel room.

She’s seen him shirtless before, more times than she could actually count. But something about the dimly lit hotel room and his shy smile made his muscles look incredible. Her hands glided along his chest, watching the way his body tensed under her touch. His skin was hot as she could feel his heart slamming against his chest.

“Take that off,” he demanded breathlessly. His gaze lowered towards her shirt. She smirked as she tilted her head to the side; almost as a taunt. Jack took a hold of it, pulling her closer to him by the shirt. He smirked as their gaze connected.

He felt drunk by the way her lips kissed his. It was like she knew how to cast a spell over him. “Take that off,” he demanded again. She smirked as she shook her head slightly.

“If you want it gone so bad then take it off of me,” she whispered teasingly. His lips curled up into a cocky grin as he gladly reached towards the shirt on her frame. He tugged it up higher. She assisted in the process. Jack bunched the shirt together and tossed it to the same corner his shirt laid. 

“Oh my god,” he let out barely above a whisper as his eyes scanned her frame. His breath caught in his throat. 

Her chest was now only covered by a black lace bra. He took a delicate hold of the strap against her shoulder. He released it, letting it snap back in place. He’s seen her in bikinis and swimsuits before; but it’s nothing like this. Only his eyes got to see her like this. He took a quick breath, his chest aching from the lack of oxygen in his body. 

Suddenly, she felt self conscious with the way his eyes were roaming her frame. She took a shaky breath as their eyes met again. She dropped her gaze towards the floor. Jack instantly took a hold of her cheeks to force her to meet his eye.

“You’re fucking breathtaking,” Jack let out as he looked deeply into her eyes. The corner of her lips curled upward as he glided his thumbs along the apples of her cheeks. He pressed his lips against hers for only a second. “Don’t ever forget it,” he mumbled against her lips. 

He kissed her urgently again, as they both collapsed onto the bed. Her hands ran through his hair as he held himself up with both of his arms resting on either side of her head. 

Urgently, she bucked her hips up into him; desperate for more contact from him. Her stomach erupted into butterflies as he began to trail wet kisses across her jawline. He continued to lower his lips, swirling his tongue against the skin as he began to suck against the skin. Careful to not leave any marks. 

She pressed her lips together as she tried to prevent a moan climbing in her throat. He pulled away from her neck, looking down towards her. She raised her hand up as she ran her hand from the side of his neck against the curve of his collarbone. 

“I promise I didn’t invite you here for this,” he let out as he scanned her features.

“I know,” she mumbled as she reached towards him again, desperate for his lips against her own again. Their tongues swirled in perfect cadence. Reaching down, he toyed with the band of her sweatpants. Feeling her arch her back into him. He let it snap back against her skin before he delicately grazed his hand up her frame. 

Their lips continued to be sloopily insync more urgently as his boxers were getting tighter and tighter by the second. He thrusted against her clothed center, for a blissful moment of relief. Yet it made him more desperate to see more of her. 

Jack pulled his lips away from hers as he began to trail his lips down her frame. Kissing every inch of her skin on the way down. He pressed his lips against her hip bone, teasingly biting the skin. 

A gasp left her lips while she tilted her head back. Jack pulled at her sweatpants, looking up towards her. 

He watched her in awe as she lifted her hips up. He took that as an invitation, he climbed off of the bed as he pulled them from her frame. He tossed them to the floor. 

Her body was now only covered by her matching lace set. He could come undone just from looking at her so innocently laying on his bed. So innocent and all just for him.

She leaned back on her elbows, breathlessly looking towards him. He took a hold of his own shorts and took them off quickly. She smiled softly as she looked over his frame. Seeing how hard he was beneath his boxers. Her mouth started watering as she scanned his frame back up looking into his eyes. 

He stood at the foot of the bed admiring her frame for a moment. “Wow–” he let out before he climbed on top of her. He looked down towards her, smiling softly. He pressed his lips against hers, she motioned for him to roll onto his back. 

Jack didn’t hesitate as he rolled onto his back. Soon, she straddled his frame. Quickly, grinding slowly, almost teasingly, her hips against his hard clothes frame. He let out a breathy moan that was muffled by her mouth against his. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled while tilting his head back. She smirked as she leaned back, pressing her lips down his neck. Jack bit his bottom lip while she took a hold of the clasp of her bra. 

Quickly, she unclasped it and tossed it from her frame. Jack’s eyes widened as his hands instantly rested on her hips. Slowly squeezing her skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he let out urgently. She bit her bottom lip as she fought off a smile. She dragged her hands across his abs while he took a hold of her hands, pulling her to lean towards him.

She pressed her lips against his as his hands lowered down her frame, gripping her thighs desperately. He thrusted up into her, a breathy moan left her lips. She continued to glide her fingers through his hair. She felt her body start to get overwhelmed with desire, desperate to be completely all his. 

His hands glided along her back, feeling her skin erupt in goosebumps beneath his touch. “Get on your back,” he mumbled against her lips. She pulled back, staring down towards him for a second as she climbed off of his frame. 

The second she laid onto her back, Jack started to climb down her frame. This time pressing his lips teasingly, circling his tongue at a slow pace. He looped his finger beneath the band of her underwear. The delicate touch sent a vibration through her whole body, her vision blurring in the process. He pulled it off of her frame, letting it drop towards the floor. Shutting her eyes, she tilted her head back.

Jack took a hold of her legs, pulling her towards the edge of the bed. Carefully, parting her legs. He smirked to see how wet she was for him.

“So wet for me, huh baby?” He mumbled as he delicately caressed the skin of her hip bone.

Anticipation coursed through her veins as she tilted her head back against the pillow. Desperately waiting for him to do something to her. She craved his touch, his lips, craved everything from him. 

He pressed his lips against the inside of her thigh, carefully and slowly trailing his lips towards her center. 

“Fuck sake, J, please!” she begged as she forced her eyes shut. A breathy laugh left his lips as he looked up towards her. 

“So impatient,” he mumbled as he delicately pressed his thumb against her clit. Slowly, circling his thumb. She squirmed instantly, her back arched. A gasp left her lips as he continued. “So pretty and so impatient,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against the inside of her thigh. He watched her clamp her mouth shut, silencing the moans fighting to come out.

He leaned towards her, his fingertips grazing her throbbing center. Without hesitation, he slid two fingers inside of her in a teasing manner. A breathy moan left her lips as she tried to silence herself. Slowly, he began to curl his fingers. He smirked as he watched her squirm beneath his touch. 

“Fuck,” she mumbled as her legs began to tightened around him. Jack leaned in taking her clit into his mouth. He began to suck the sensitive bud as he looped one of his arms around her thigh. He squeezed the skin, holding her in place.

A moan finally fell from her lips and Jack felt himself nearly release right there. It was the most beautiful sound he’s heard in a long time. He pulled back, bringing his fingers towards his mouth. After a few seconds, he brought his lips towards her center. Teasingly, he began to swirl his tongue.

He stayed there for a while, pulling her towards her edge. Her breathing was heavy as she continued to silence her own moans; afraid of someone overhearing.

“J, I’m so close,” she mumbled. Jack pulled back, licking his lips clean. A frustrated sigh left her lips as her eyes opened; practically glaring towards him. “Why does every guy stop when a girl says that?” she let out breathily. He chuckled as he finally pulled his boxers from his frame. She looked towards him, her eyes widening as she was breathing heavily. 

“Just wait, baby,” he mumbled as he ran his hand up and down his shaft. A muffled moan fell from his lips as he looked towards her. An imagine he never thought he was going to see. 

He carefully pulled her legs towards the edge of bed as he parted her legs again, He guided himself towards her center, carefully thrusting into her. Another moan fell from her lips as he took a hold of her thigh as he climbed on top of her. 

He thrusted again, a grunt falling from his lips. Their eyes connected as she nodded slightly. He began to quicken his pace. Thrusting faster into her, pressing sloppy kisses against her jawline.

“So good, baby, doing so good,” he mumbled before he kissed her sloppily. Her hands found his hair, tugging the strands. He was right, she was right back at the edge he put her on before. Any second she would unwind. 

Jack pulled his lips away from hers, needing to see what he does to her. He needed to watch how her desire consume her. He was getting dizzy, a smirk toyed to his lips watching her breathlessly keep her moans inside.

“Let me here you, let it out,” he muttered through a grunt. She smirked as she finally let herself let it out. A low moan fell from her lips as she dragged her hands across his upper back, leaving nail scratches in their place. 

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna–J,” she mumbled against his lips. 

With another thrust, she had hit her climax. Her breath caught in her throat as she tilted her head back. She couldn’t hold it back anymore as she let out a loud moan. Jack bit his bottom lip as he continued to guide her through her climax.

“That’s it’s baby,” he whispered breathlessly.

“Oh fuck, oh my god Jac–” she moan out. 

He pressed his lips against her jawline as he tightened his grip on her thigh as he reached his own climax. A stifled his own moan as his entire body flooded with desire. His vision went blurry as he pressed his lips sloppily against her jawline. 

He pulled out as he fell onto his back beside her. Both of them laid silently as they were trying to catch their breath. He tilted his head to the side, looking over her side profile. He watched as she chewed on her bottom lip as she took a deep breath. She blinked her eyes harshly back to back. 

Several seconds passed before she turned her head to meet his gaze. A soft giggle falling from her lips. “What?” he asked, fighting a smirk forming on his lips. 

“I cannot believe we just did that,” she let out while shaking her head slightly. 

“It was alright,” he mumbled teasingly. She rolled her eyes dramatically as she shoved him. He laughed as he reached towards her, pulling her towards him. Her head rested on his chest as he looped his arm around her waist. He kissed the top of her head.

“You’re so annoying,” she mumbled. He hummed dramatically as he began to run his fingers through her hair.

“Should we talk about it?” he asked barely above a whisper. She pressed her lips against his chest as she lifted her head up, meeting his gaze. 

“Just a one time thing right? You live in New Jersey and I live here. It wouldn’t make sense for it to be more than that right?” she explained as she ran her hand across his cheek. He nodded slowly as he brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. 

His heart stung in his chest but he forced a grin to his lips, “Can we make it a two time thing? Another round?” he asked teasingly. She rolled her eyes dramatically. 

“You have a losing streak to snap tomorrow, shouldn’t you be saving some energy?” 

“You just had to remind me, huh?” he asked while shaking his head slightly. 

“I live to keep the Jack Hughes humble,” she shot back. 

He rolled his eyes dramatically as he took a hold of her neck. He pulled her towards him, kissing her urgently.

June 2023

Jack and Y/N’s friendship remained the same like it was before their night together back in December. They slept together and cuddled the entire night. They didn’t say a single word about it when they went to lunch with Luke. However, Jack was convinced Luke had some idea of what had happened. Luke never said anything about it though.

It was as if nothing happened. Their friendship was normal as normal as it could seem. They texted and talked on the phone nearly every day. It was exactly like it used to be. 

But Jack would be lying if he didn’t have plenty of dreams reliving that night. Waking up, wishing she was beside him to fix what he was left with after his wet dreams. But they were friends and friends should not think of other friends like that. 

Today was the start of another summer at the Hughes's lake house. All of the boys wanted to shake off a rough end to the season, craving to let off some steam. While Y/N was frustrated because she was not given a new contract with the Big Ten. She was trying to decide what she wanted to do with her career. This summer was her last chance to enjoy unemployment before she went on a job search. 

The Hughes Brothers were the first ones at the house, making sure the whole place was perfect. Trevor, Cole, and Y/N were on their way. Y/N had promised to pick the other three up from the airport and she texted Jack that she was regretting giving that offer. 

“What time did Y/N say they would be here?” Quinn asked as he wandered back into the living room. Jack tilted his head back looking towards Quinn. A smile formed on Jack's lips at the sound of her name.

“She should be here in like five minutes,” Jack explained as he forced his gaze back towards his phone screen. 

He began to scroll through his Twitter feed, not necessarily reading everything he saw. Mainly trying to keep his mind off of the fact that Y/N was going to be in the same room as him for the first time since Decemeber. Quinn nodded as he wandered back towards the kitchen, leaving Jack alone. Luke was in his room unpacking all of his clothes.

Jack was trying to be cool but he was freaking out. He didn’t know how to be normal knowing that any minute she would walk through that door. Probably wearing something gorgeous since she always looked gorgeous in everything she’s worn; and not worn. 

The front door swung open and Y/N led the charge. “Party’s here!” The three of them shouted as they entered the house. Trevor was carrying six pizzas while dancing towards the kitchen. Completely ignoring Jack who was in the process of standing up from the couch. Cole was holding his phone up playing the pre-chorus of Hot in Herre by Nelly. 

Cole and Y/N were dancing their way inside while leaving their suitcases by the door. Jack stood up from the couch watching Cole and Y/N make complete fools of themselves. Trevor bolted out of the kitchen, “It’s gettin’ hot in here!” Trevor yelled out singing along to the song as he went back towards Y/N and Cole.

The three of them danced and sang loudly. Luke entered the living room, his eyes were wide as he was trying to hold in a laugh. Quinn entered the living room, completely losing balance from laughing. Jack stood up crossing his arms over his chest as he watched three of his favorite people. 

The song faded into another song but Cole placed his phone against the table beside the front door. “You guys are the weirdest people I’ve ever met,” Luke said while laughing. He walked towards Cole first, giving him a quick hug. Cole darted towards Quinn. Luke walked towards Y/N.

“Hey Lukey,” she offered as she gave him a quick hug, “UMich is gonna miss you,” she mumbled as she pulled back.

“They’re gonna miss you too, all of the athletes are going to miss you like crazy. We all thought it was dumb to let you go,” he expressed. She smiled softly as she tilted her head to the side. 

“Thanks Lukey,” she muttered before she saw Quinn walking towards her. “Quinny, how are you?” she asked as she gave him a quick hug. 

“Alive, can’t wait for this break,” he said while chuckling. She pouted her lips as Quinn shifted his attention towards Trevor. 

Y/N looked towards Jack as he was finishing up his quick greeting with Cole. Jack shifted his gaze towards her as he fought off a grin. He scanned her frame, slowly. She walked up towards him.

“Hey J,” she let out softly, feeling her legs start to get weak as she looked over him. 

“Hi Y/N,” he mumbled. Hesitantly, she pulled him in an embrace. He followed in pursuit as his hands loosely looped around her waist. He delicately ran his hand along her lower back. 

She rested her hand on the base of his neck as her body straightened. Her stomach flipped as she felt her breathing catch in her throat. 

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered into her ear. A memory of their night together flashed into her mind with his lips so close to her ear. 

She swallowed harshly as she pulled back, her hand glided from his neck, her thumb ran along the side of his neck for a moment before she fully pulled away from him. He pursed his lips forward as he scanned her frame. He shifted awkwardly as he crossed his arms over her chest.

Clearing her throat, she looked into his eyes for a second before she reluctantly stepped away from him. “We have pizza and there is still a load of liquor in the car. Can anyone help me?” She offered while looking around the whole living room.

“I got you,” Jack said quickly before anyone else had a chance to chime in. Their eyes connected and she felt her heart slam against her chest. She lowered her gaze towards the cocky smirk on his lips. She walked backwards, stumbling slightly. She clenched her jaw as she darted outside of the front door.

He smirked as he lowered his gaze towards the floor as he followed after her. She jogged towards the trunk of her car. Instantly, she opened the trunk and stared towards the four paper bags holding all of the alcohol. 

She leaned into the trunk, taking a hold of one of the bags. Jack walked up behind her, a smirk toying to his lips. She froze in place as her body erupted in tingles. She took a shaky breath as she took a hold of another bag. Jack leaned towards her as he reached towards a bag. 

“Thank you for your help,” she said slowly as she walked away from him. He dragged his tongue across his bottom lip as he took the other bag. He shut the trunk as he quickly followed after her. 

She entered the living room hearing echoes from the boys in the kitchen. “Y/N,” Jack called out in a hushed tone. She turned around, meeting his gaze. “Are you okay?”

She looked into his light eyes as she squinted her eyes slightly. “I’m good, good–yeah,” she muttered before she began to walk towards the kitchen. She entered.

“Our alcohol!” Cole cheered loudly. The other boys laughed as Y/N rested her bags onto the center island. Jack walked beside her, resting his bags onto the counter himself. 

It was normal for her and Jack to be close, not necessarily people that hug and cuddle all of the time. But they were not people to not be in close proximity. She never noticed it much before, or cared much before. Now that they’ve hooked up, she was hyper aware of his presence. The way her body erupted in goosebumps and tingles any time his body was close against her.

She began to pull out the different bottles. Jack stood beside her, their arms bumping against one another as he started pulling out the other bottles. “We’re thinking about going on the boat in a few, you two down?” Quinn asked before he shoved a bite of food into his mouth. 

Y/N glanced towards Jack and back down towards the overwhelming amount of alcohol in front of them. “I’m always down,” she offered as she stared towards the comically large vodka bottle. 

Jack looked over her frame for a second, “Yeah for sure,” he expressed before he looked towards Luke. Luke nodded slowly, his cheeks pinking up as he glanced towards Y/N. 

It was a couple hours later and it was safe to say that most of them were pretty tipsy. She was sitting in one of the corners of the boat. Her swimsuit was covered by an oversized pink hoodie. 

The music has progressively gotten quieter as the hours progressed. Now everyone was starting to get tired as the sun was starting to set. She had her knees pulled up towards her chest.

Their conversations progressively started getting quieter as the sun was starting to create a stunning orange glow over the water. Quinn and Trevor were laughing loudly at something Trevor had said.

Her gaze continued to wander towards Jack. He was sitting on the opposite end of the boat. His frame was covered in a dark blue hoodie but it was once showing off his tanned body. He was talking with Luke,  from afar the conversation seemed serious. Or at least it appeared to be that way.

Cole was laying down beside her. His feet were dangling over the ledge of the boat. His head rested beside her thigh. Every so often she would glance down to see Cole half asleep. His arms were crossed over his chest. 

“Y/N,” Cole whispered. She forced her gaze away from Jack as she looked down towards him. He waved his finger towards her. She squinted her eyes slightly as she leaned towards him. Slowly, she tilted her head to the side, allowing him to whisper in her ear. “Did something happen with you and Jack?” he asked barely above a whisper. She pulled back, her eyes widening.

“Why are you asking me that?” she asked softly. He chuckled as he shrugged slightly, his eyes shutting in the process.

“Because this is usually his spot and he’s busy lecturing Luke about what it takes to be in the NHL,” Cole explained, a dry laugh leaving his lips. “Did you guys get into an argument?”

“No, we’re good,” she mumbled as she shifted her gaze back towards Jack across from them. His gaze was already looking in her direction. The corner of his lips curled upward as he looked into her eyes. He bit his bottom lip as he continued to look in her direction.

Shyly, she dropped her gaze towards her lap. Cole was looking towards her suspiciously. “What?” she asked barely above a whisper.

“Did you two–” he trailed off as he nodded slowly, trying to insinuate something. Her lips parted slightly as the skin of her cheeks heated up instantly. Her lack of defense was enough for him to believe it. “Oh we have so much to talk about later,” Cole offered while chuckling.

“You guys ready to head back? I’m getting cold,” Quinn called out as he began walking back towards the driver seat.

Y/N looked down towards Cole who was fighting off a wide grin. The boys all started making fun of Quinn. While Cole and Y/N were staring towards one another. “We have nothing to talk about, Cole,” she offered while nodding slowly. He chuckled as he shut his eyes.

Quinn began to drive the boat back towards the dock. 

“Cole, I’m serious,” she mumbled. 

“Okay,” he sing songed, “But you two aren’t really keeping it to yourselves,”

“Shut up, Cole,” she let out while laughing.

~~~

She was laying on her bed, struggling to fall asleep. Her mind was busy, nearly impossible to make it quiet. It was a one time thing. They were fine the next day, and didn't even act like it happened. Sure, the faint feeling of his lips against hers was all she could think about that day. But it was normal.

Nothing felt normal. Maybe it was the fact that this was the first time they were sleeping under the same roof since. She let out a huff of air as she stared towards the ceiling. Tossing the blanket low on her frame, her body starting to overheat.

Out of nowhere there was a soft kock on her door. She took a hold of her phone to check the time. It was a little after midnight. She sighed as she tossed the blanket away from her frame. She walked towards the door and pulled it open. Jack was standing outside of her door, a pair of sweatpants being the only thing covering his frame. 

“What are you doing, J?” she asked softly. 

“Can I come in?” he asked nervously. She nodded, stepping aside letting him walk into her room. She shut the door, pressing her back against the door. He walked towards the center of the room; his gaze towards the floor. 

She didn’t say anything. Instead she was admiring the way his back muscles tensed as he breathed heavily. After a few seconds he spun around, resting his hands onto his hips. 

“So you and Cole were pretty close today, huh?” he let out as he continued to avoid her gaze. She squinted her eyes slightly as she pursed her lips forward.

“Haven’t seen him in a year. It was good to catch up,” she offered as she nervously ran her fingers through her hair.

“I meant–like–on the boat. You two were pretty close,” he said as he finally lifted his head up to meet her gaze. Her heart jumped into her throat as her knees suddenly felt weak. 

“Are you jealous that I was hanging out with Cole?” she questioned, a smirk toying her lips.

“I have no reason to be jealous,” he offered as he took a step towards her. Her posture straightened as she continued pressing her back against the door. Almost afraid that if she pulled away she would collapse under his gaze. 

“Right ‘cause we’re completely normal,” she pressed her lips together while breathing started to become difficult. He stopped a couple of steps away from her, watching her intently. He saw the way she was frozen in place; he knew why.

“Right because nothing happened between us,”

“Nope,”

“So I can’t be jealous that you and Cole were flirting for hours on the boat earlier,” he offered before dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. He raised his hand up and dragged it across his chin.

She brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear as she continued to look into his darkening eyes. “We weren’t flirting,” 

“Right because his head was practically in your lap. You were laughing a lot, totally not flirting,” 

“His head was not in my lap and he’s funny. Am I supposed to not laugh at something funny?” she said dryly. 

“He’s not that funny,” 

“Why do you care if I am laughing with Cole?” 

“I don’t,” he said bluntly.

“Then why are you–”

He interrupted her by taking a hold of both of her cheeks and kissing her urgently. There was not an ounce of hesitation as she began to kiss him back. Her hands planted onto his chest as he shoved his knee between her legs. His hands slipped from her cheeks as he rested them against the door beside her head to pin her against it.

Her hands glided through his hair, needing him closer. She took a hold of the ends of her shirt, pulling her lips away from his in the process. She tossed it towards the floor to reveal her bare chest. 

Jack instantly connected their lips again as he took a hold of her waist to pull her against his chest. He reached behind her twisting the lock on the door, he didn’t need any surprises. Reaching down he took a hold of her thighs; she jumped up assisting him in the process. Not once did their lips part. Her hands held his head in place, desperate for his lips to stay on hers.

Jack carried her towards the bed and delicately placed her down onto the bed. He stood at the foot of the bed, quickly sliding his sweats down his body. He smirked as he climbed on top of her again.

Their noses brushed as she took a hold of his neck. She delicately ran her thumb along the side of it. Jack hummed as he looked into her eyes, “What?” he let out breathily. 

She shook her head slightly before she pulled him towards her by his neck. He let out a breathy moan that was muffled by her mouth. Slowly, pulling his lips from hers he began to trail his lips down her neck. She tilted her head back, giving him more space.

“Gotta be quiet, yeah? Can’t let them know what we’re doing,” he whispered into her ear. She couldn’t form any words; instead she hummed before she bit her bottom lip. He smirked as he pressed wet kisses down her neck, towards her chest. His eyes lit up in the process.

~~~

She forced him out of her room not long after they hooked up. She was afraid that if he fell asleep in her room then it would be suspicious to everyone in the house. Jack was notorious for sleeping in and it would be difficult for him to sneak out. 

Although, she did feel guilty kicking him out like that. After all, he was the one that snuck into her room to begin with. She laid in the center of the bed, staring towards the ceiling. Her mind was replaying every single moment from the night before. 

The way his hands grazed her skin and the way her back would arch into him. The way his lips and tongue knew exactly what to do to make her feel dizzy. She didn’t know how long the whole night lasted, she knew that it was more than once. 

There was a soft knock on her door, she sat up. Pressing her back against the wall behind her she called out, “Come in,”

She watched as Jack peaked his head into the room. Her eyes widened slightly before she pulled the comforter tighter to her body. He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He walked towards her, stopping short near the bed. 

“We need to talk about this,” Jack offered.

She shook her head slowly, “No we don’t. That was a one time thing,” she said in a hush tone.

“Decemeber was a one time thing, last night means it’s gonna happen again so we need to set boundaries,” he offered as he sat down on the bed, their faces a near inch away from one another.

“How do you know it’s gonna happen again?” she offered teasingly, her gaze trailing towards his shirtless frame. He tilted his head to the side as he pursed his lips forward, his own eyes admiring her lips. Her perfect lips that he could stare at all day.

After a few seconds of silence, Jack leaned towards her, kissing her. It was slow, nothing like last night’s urgency. Their tongues connected as he was slowly gliding his hand to the base of her neck.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers, “Because of that,” he mumbled before he pressed his lips against hers again for a few seconds. He took a sudden breath, “So we need boundaries,”

She nodded as she leaned back, her head tilting back against the wall. “Okay, what ideas do you have?” she offered quietly.

“None of them can know,” he waved his hand behind them towards the door. She nodded, keeping the secret that Cole figured out it’s happened once. “Your turn,” he mumbled. 

Her mouth fell open for a second before she clamped it shut. She took a deep breath, “No sleepovers,” she let out, “If it happens then there is no cuddling afterwards,” 

He nodded slowly, “Okay, uhm–” he thought about it for a second, “We can’t avoid each other outside of this room, right? It’ll look suspicious.”

She nodded, “Feelings can’t get involved, the second something is different. We stop,” 

“What do you mean by feelings?”

“I don’t know, like if we start seeing each other as more than–” she trailed off as she avoided his gaze. 

“Yeah, I agree,” he muttered before he took a deep breath. He tilted his head back, trying to think if there was anything else to add. “I’m out,” he let out breathily. 

“Me too,” she mumbled. 

“Good,” he muttered as his gaze lingered on her lips. He smirked before he leaned towards her, kissing her softly. “Okay, I’ll see you downstairs,” he muttered against her lips before he kissed her again. He stood up as he began walking towards the door.

“Wait, I have another one,” she called out, standing up from the bed, stumbling slightly as she nearly tripped over the comforter. He spun around, nodding allowing her to continue. “You can’t kiss me goodbye,” 

He chuckled awkwardly, “So the plan is we just have incredible sex and then I am not supposed to cuddle you or kiss you goodbye afterwards?” he said sarcastically. She nodded as she walked towards him. “That makes me like a complete douche, you know,”

“Well, it’s just two friends having sex, right?” she offered as she rested her hands onto her hip. He nodded as his gaze was lingering on her lips. Her eyes widened as she tossed her hands to the side. “I need a verbal answer, J!” 

He tossed his head back, “Just two friends who have incredible sex,” he let out barely above a whisper before he snuck out of the room, leaving her alone in the center of the bedroom. A sudden laugh fell from her lips as she shook her head.

July 2023

She walked through the main doors of the lake house to see all of the boys scattered around the living room. She pulled her sunglasses from her face, while carrying two dozen donuts in her hands. “What’s that for?” Jack called out as he walked towards her. She smiled softly towards him as he took both of the boxes from her. He began walking towards the kitchen.

All of the boys followed after them. “My birthday is tomorrow so I wanted to treat you guys to some amazing donuts,” she mumbled as she leaned agains the doorway. Jack rested the boxes onto the counter while opening it instantly. 

“Have we figured out a plan to celebrate?” Cole asked as he stole a chocolate long john. He smirked towards Quinn who was reaching for the same one. 

“My siblings are driving up for the night. My sister can finally get in the clubs out here, it’ll be perfect,” she offered with a grin. 

“Isn’t she like twenty,” Jack asked as he handed a donut towards her. It was her favorite. She smiled towards him for a second.

“Luke’s twenty,” she mumbled, “And he and Carlee got fakes at the same time. So we know it works,” she said softly.

“You know Y/N’s sister?” Jack asked with a mouthful. 

Luke shrugged nonchalantly, “She dated Matty for a while when he was still at UMich,” he said, “Thanks for these,” he said towards Y/N as he carried his two donuts out of the kitchen. 

Y/N took a bit of her own donut as she glanced towards Cole who was staring towards her suspiciously. “Festivities for your birthday start tonight by the way,” he said as he walked out of the kitchen. Quinn and Trevor were quick to follow after him, leaving Jack and Y/N.

She met Jack’s gaze, squinting slightly. “What did he mean by that?” she asked quietly. He shrugged as he walked around the counter towards her. He stepped up towards her, his gaze scanning her features.

“What are you doing in the next twenty minutes?” he asked, trying to be discreet but he failed miserably. 

“I was going to eat this donut and then maybe another one, perhaps another one after that. Then I was going to shower,” she explained. He chuckled dryly as he glanced towards the living room, none of the boys were in his line of sight. He assumed it meant that they were gone. 

“Want help in that second part?” he asked barely above a whisper. She fought a smile forming on her lips.

“Sure you want to see me after three–” she began but he pushed her delicately to stop her.

“I’ll be waiting,” He leaned towards her, purposely brushing his lips against her ear. She cleared her throat as her body straightened. She took another bite of her donut while rolling her eyes playfully. 

She finished her snacks before she walked into the living room to see Cole was sitting in the corner of the couch. He was smirking as he watched her walk towards the hallway. “Is there any reason why Jack hasn’t brought any girls back to the house this summer?” he called out.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her hands landing on her hips. Slowly, she spun on her heels. She saw Cole resting his head onto the top of the couch. He looked towards her expectantly. 

“No idea,” she let out barely above a whisper.

“Why haven’t you brought anyone back here?” he asked teasingly. He smirked towards her. 

“Why haven’t you?” she shot back. 

He chuckled softly as he tapped his hands against the top of the couch, “Oh I have, you and Jack have just been too busy disappearing for the last month to notice,” he teased.

She shrugged, “I haven’t been disappearing, I don’t know about J though,” she let out nonchalantly as she continued down that hallway. 

“Sure,” Cole drew out the word as he shifted his gaze towards the TV. He turned it on to put on  the new show he was starting to watch. 

She took a deep breath as she walked towards her bedroom. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Instantly, her back was pressed against the wall beside the door. It was slowly shutting beside her as she looked into Jack’s eyes. She fought off a smirk as he tilted his head to the side watching it shut. 

A soft giggle rose up in her throat, Jack raised his finger up. Carefully, pressing it against her lips; asking her to be quiet. She pressed her lips against his finger as he twisted the lock in the process.  Slowly, he glided his hand along her jawline before he rested his hand on the base of her neck. 

“You gotta be more careful,” she mumbled as she took a hold of his shirt, pulling him towards her, craving his lips on hers. He smirked before he kissed her urgently. Their tongues connected as a breathy moan fell from his lips. He looped his thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans as he pulled her towards him.

“J, I’m serious,” she mumbled against his lips. He pulled back while toying with the buttons of her jeans. Slowly, she ran her hands from his neck down his chest. “Cole’s asking questions,” 

“Let him ask questions,” he whispered before he pressed his lips beneath her ear. He began to suck and swirl his tongue to soothe the skin. He parted her legs as he shoved his knee between them, feeling her weaken beneath his touch. 

“You can’t do that,” she mumbled as she tugged at the strands of hair at the base of his neck. 

“I can’t?” he asked teasingly. She hummed as a reply. “What about this?” he asked teasingly as he unbuttoned her jeans.

“I seriously have to go shower, J,” she mumbled breathlessly. Jack pressed his lips against her collarbone, before he tilted his head back looking into her eyes. He watched as her eyes dilated the longer their eyes met. “Follow me in five minutes,” she mumbled as she unlocked the door and pulled it open. 

He smirked as he watched her take a hold of a random t-shirt and shorts as she slipped out of the door. He stiffled a laugh as he quietly hit his fist against the wall in front of him. He pressed his head against the wall for a second.

He jumped out of the bedroom and shut the door behind him. He crossed the hallway towards his own bedroom, trying to be as sneaky as possible. 

Some of their rules and boundaries fell apart pretty early in their arrangement. Jack couldn’t help but kiss her goodbye, desperate for one last intimate moment. At least until their next intimate moment. 

He was falling for her, falling so hard. But she wasn’t allowed to know that or she would end their beautiful arrangement. He was somewhat convinced that the second she found out the feelings he was having; she would run the opposite direction.

The second their arrangement ends, their whole friendship will fall apart. He knows that. He knows that this either ends with a relationship or as strangers. He was more prepared for one rather than the other.

He’s stayed the night a few times after their nights together. Her back would be pressed against his chest. His hands would delicately graze along her stomach as she would run her hand along the top of his hand. His lips were pressing against the skin of her shoulder. 

He took a hold of his swim trunks and walked towards the bathroom that Y/N prefers. He stepped inside, hearing the shower already running. Quickly, she took a hold of the shower curtain and peeked her head out to see Jack walking inside. 

Without hesitation, he took a hold of his shirt and instantly tossed it to the floor. Instantly, he took off of his shorts and stepped into the shower with her. He smirked as he scanned her frame. 

Her hands instantly took a hold of his cheeks, pulling him towards her. She pressed her lips against his urgently. He hummed against her lips as he guided her backwards. The steaming water started cascading over his body as his hands began to roam over her wet frame. 

With their lips still connected, he lowered his fingers down her wet skin. He took two of his fingers and began to rub her clit slowly. A small gasp left her lips as she pulled back slightly. Jack grinned as he continued to tease her as he rubbed her clit so slowly. She tilted her head back, holding back a breathy moan. 

He leaned towards her, his lips pressing against her jawline. He carefully touched her center feeling how wet she was for him. He bit the skin beneath her jawline before he circled his tongue soothingly. Her arms wrapped around his neck for support. 

“What do you want, mhm?” he whispered in her ear as he returned his fingers towards her clit. She dragged her tongue across her bottom lip as she tilted her head back. Her eyes shut instantly.

“Please,” she begged barely above a whisper. He smirked as entered her center with two of his fingers. He pressed his body into hers as he pushed her against the wall. A moan fell from her lips. Jack’s eyes widened as he took a hold of her chin, silencing her moans with his mouth. 

“What do you want?” he whispered against her lips. Her eyes fluttered open. She looked towards him through wet eyelashes. He curled his fingers inside of her, feeling her react against his body. 

She looked so innocent looking towards him like that, so desperate. He continued to curl and thrust his fingers into her, hearing her breathily moan in his ear, feeling her body tighten under his touch. 

“I need you,” she mumbled out.

“Yeah?” he mumbled as he pulled his fingers out, he instantly took a hold of his length. He ran his hand up and down a few times, his breath catching in his throat. He looked back towards her, meeting her gaze.

“Please J,” she tilted her head back against the tile behind her. He guided himself to her center, thrusting into her slowly; letting her get used to him. Jack kept her body pinned against the wall as he continued to thrust slowly into her. She took a hold of his cheeks, forcing him to kiss her; otherwise everyone in the house would know what they do behind closed doors.

Jack used one of his hands and began to circle her clit and apply pressure as he continued to thrust into her. A surge of desire coursed through her body. Her body shuttered as she dragged her hands across his upper back. Her nails digging into his skin for only a moment.

He liked hearing her desire and pleasure pour from her mouth. No matter how muffled they needed to be, it was everything for him to know what he was doing to her.

“Fuck,” he let out through a soft groan. He moved his hand away from her clit, supporting her body. He pulled his lips away from hers for a second while he admired the short breaths leaving her lips. He watched her tilt her head back and bite her bottom lip. 

A moan fell from her lips, it was starting to get difficult to remain quiet. Desperately, he leaned towards her with an open mouth kiss.

“I’m so close,” she mumbled against his lips.

“Doing so good, baby, so fucking good,” he whispered back as he thrusted into her harder. 

A breathy moan of his own falling from his lips as they couldn’t kiss each other anymore. Their faces were still pressed against one another. 

He could feel her tighten around him, her breath caught in her throat as she tossed her head back, her hands holding Jack’s head in place. “Jack,” she mumbled out. 

His name never fell from her lips like that. She never would say it fully, hearing it fall from her lips like that was practically enough for him to be sent over the edge.

After a few seconds, he reached his climax. He pressed sloppy kisses against her jawline as she was letting out short breaths as she was riding out her own climax. Jack took a hold of both of her hips. 

He didn’t pull out right away as he watched her breathing start to slow. She pulled him towards her, kissing him instantly. He couldn’t breath but he didn’t care, all he wanted was to do it again and never stop. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled against her lips as he finally pulled out. He leaned down and rested his head against the crook of her neck. He let out a giggle as he began to let his hands roam her frame. “We need to do this more often,” he mumbled before he pressed his lips against her neck.

She rested her forehead against his shoulder, “Yeah,” she mumbled.

~~~

The following morning, they were in bed together. No matter how late they were up the night before, Jack would sneak out of her room a little after seven every day. None of the other boys in the house were going to be awake for several hours but they would rather be safe than sorry.

Her head rested on his chest as her arms were practically looped around his body. She was dead asleep but Jack was wide awake. His alarm wouldn’t go off for another thirty minutes. He grazed his fingertips along the skin of her back, every so often running his fingers through her hair. He would slowly twist the strands between his finger tips.

He brushed a few pieces away from her face, his fingertips glided along her forehead. She stirred slightly under his touch. Delicately, she pressed her lips against his chest. His whole body tightened, his heart started slamming against his chest. 

Slowly, she ran her hand along his chest. “Good morning,” she mumbled as she kept her head on his chest. His eyes shut as the corner of his lips curled upward. He could get used to waking up like this. 

“Morning,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against the top of her head. “Did you sleep okay?” he asked barely above a whisper. She hummed as her eyes fluttered closed again.

“I could sleep a little longer but someone’s heart is beating a thousand times a minute,” she mumbled as she sat up slightly. She looked down towards Jack. Her hair falling into her face as she scanned his sleepy features.

Raising his hand up, he brushed her hair away from her face, he tucked the pieces behind her ear. “Was it?” he mumbled. She nodded as his hand ran along her bare back. Her body straightened as goosebumps erupted all over her frame. “Sorry,” he let out, his lips in a soft smile.

She smiled towards him as she laid back down, this time resting her head in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay,” she mumbled as she pressed her lips against his neck. Their legs entangled together instantly. “What’s got it beating so fast?” she asked quietly.

“No idea,” he said. “I can sneak out now, if you want more sleep,”

“No, no, stay,” she tightened her grip along his center. He smiled widely as he took a deep breath. “Please,” she whispered into his ear. 

“Okay,” he whispered.

A soft giggle fell from her lips, “Are you excited to go back to Jersey?” she asked softly as her eyes remained shut.

“Something like that,”

“What does that mean?” she asked as Jack teasing ran his hand along the curve of her ass. 

“Jersey is so far from here,” he mumbled as he ran his hand along her arm.

“But it’s Lukey’s rookie year,” she offered. He let out a small groan. “J, it’ll be okay,” she said half heartedly; used to his dramatics.

“But you and our arrangement are in Michigan,” he mumbled. 

“That’s true,” she mumbled as she lifted her head up, she looked down towards him. He raised his hand up, running his hand along his cheek. “Two more incredible weeks, J.” 

“Two more,” he mumbled as he swallowed harshly, his heart started beating rapidly against his chest. “Have you started looking for new jobs?” He jumped on topics, afraid of talking about their situation. Her eyes widened slightly as she took a deep breath. 

“It’s going,” she let out while laughing slightly. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” she mumbled. He chuckled as she leaned down and slammed her lips against his. He was shocked for a second as she climbed onto his lap as she kissed him slowly. 

“Why are you avoiding talking about it?” he said as he pushed her back delicately. 

“‘M not,” she mumbled as she took a hold of his cheeks pulling her back towards him.

His eyes widened as he pushed her back, “It’s your birthday, happy birthday,” he let out urgently. 

A grin formed on her lips, “Oh yeah, it is, isn't it?” she mumbled as she ran her hand along his chest. His hands rested on her hips, his gaze lingering on her bare chest in front of him. He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Thank you, J,”

He let out a long breath as a small smile formed on his lips, “How about we start your birthday off on the right track?” he said softly as he continued to glide his hands along her hips. 

His grip tightened along her hips as he tossed her down onto her back. A gasp fell from her lips as she kept her hands onto his chest. He leaned down towards her, hovering his lips over hers. 

There was a loud knock against her door. Jack leaned back, looking behind him towards the door. “Y/N wake your ass up!” Trevor shouted as he started blasting Birthday Bitch by Trap Beckham. 

Jack’s mouth fell open as he tried to stop himself from laughing. “Fuck it up if it’s your birthday, bitch! Fuck it up if it’s your birthday, bitch!” Trevor and Cole started singing loudly outside her door. 

“Go hide,” she whispered towards him, smacking her hands against his chest. He smirked down towards her, leaning down he pecked her lips for a few seconds. Jack hopped off of her frame as soft giggles fell from his lips. 

She followed in pursuit. He leaned down and collected his clothes. He jogged towards the walk in closet. The second he shut the door, he began to cover himself with the pajamas he had on last night. 

It didn’t take long for her to be completely clothed. The boys outside her door were still loudly yelling the lyrics. She pulled the door open, “One time for the birthday bitch, two times for the birthday bitch, three times for the birthday bitch!” They seemed to sing louder once they saw her laughing towards them. 

She tossed her head back, laughing as she saw Cole carrying a comically large plate of pancakes. It was covered in strawberries and chocolate syrup. He was shaking back and forth, shimming slightly as he held the plate towards her with a singular candle on top. Trevor was holding the speaker above his head as he was also recording Y/N’s reaction. 

“Blow out the candle and come into the living room,” Cole offered as he continued to shift the plate back and forth. She giggled before she blew out the candle. Trevor cheered before he stopped recording. He turned down the song as he stepped into the room. 

He quickly wrapped his arms around her. “Happy birthday, roomie,” he whispered into her ear. He pulled back as he smiled towards her. Her eyes widened as she grinned. 

“Shut up, really?” she mumbled. He winked towards her.

He nodded as he pointed for them to leave the room. She nodded as she followed after the pair. Her eyes widened as she saw her sister and her brother standing in the living room. “Oh my god!” she called out. She ran towards her older brother, Oliver, first. “I was supposed to come and get you guys later today!” she called out as she hugged Carlee instantly.

“We’ve got a day full of plans, Y/N. We weren’t going to make you drive us up here,” Carlee said while laughing. 

“What the hell was all that noise?” Jack said as he emerged from the hallway. His frame was fully clothed and he was acting extremely sleepy. Their eyes connected for a second before Jack let out a sudden laugh. “Ollie! I have been begging Y/N to get your ass to the house,” Jack said while laughing. He jogged towards him, hugging him instantly. Oliver chuckled while he instantly returned the hug.

“Hey Jack, we didn’t want her to waste her day on driving three hours to retrieve us,” he explained as he pulled back. “And unfortunately, I’ve got a job that practically forbids taking time off. Otherwise I would be here, Y/N’s knows that,” he said while laughing.

Jack simply nodded before looking towards Carlee, “Little Y/L/N!” he let out as he held his hand up from a high five. She returned it while rolling her eyes playfully.

~

Her door was open as she was getting ready for the club. It was a little after nine and she was still finishing her hair. There was a soft knock on the door frame of her door. She spun around to see Trevor standing at the doorway. “Hey Trev,” she said as she forced her gaze back towards the mirror in front of her. 

“So you’re all set to start working on August 15th,” he offered in a hushed tone. She spun around, resting her straightener onto the vanity. She climbed off of the chair and jogged towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, shutting her eyes. He lifted her off of the ground for a second as a soft laugh left his lips.

“It’s only temporary while you’re getting your master’s but it’ll get you more experience. It’s not on screen but you’ll be working for a professional team,” he explained as she pulled away. She sniffled as she tilted her head back, she couldn’t let tears fall onto her cheek. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” she said through a crack in her voice. He smiled as he shook his head. “Are you sure I can stay in your extra room?”

“Of course, just save up every cent you get. It’s going to be awesome to have you back in Anaheim,” he let out ecstatically as she leaped towards him, desperate to hug him again. He giggled as he held her tightly to his chest. “It’ll be so fun, roomie,” he offered teasingly. 

“You can’t tell anyone yet, especially not J and my siblings. Okay?” she begged. He nodded instantly, pretending to zip his lips shut. 

“I’ll let you finish getting ready,” Trevor said as he turned out of her room. She practically skipped back towards the vanity. 

Jack couldn’t make out what they were talking about. But all he understood was that there was a lot of hugging and laughing. Even though he swore he watched her wipe a tear away from her cheek.

His entire body felt overheated, his chest was heavy as he watched them interact. What was so secret that she had to go to Trevor about it? What did he have that Jack didn’t? Despite everything in his frame, begging to slam the door shut; he shut it delicately as he walked towards the seltzer on his dresser.

He instantly brought the can towards his lips as he began to chug the drink. He realized pretty quickly, he was going to need a lot more drinks to pretend like he doesn’t care about what just happened between them. 

He brought his cologne towards his chest, he sprayed it on either side of his neck  and then lower on his frame. He took a deep breath as he rested it onto the top of the dresser. He took his empty can, squeezing it in his hand before he reached towards the door.

He swung it open as he stormed out of his room. He continued to take deep breaths as he avoided the gaze of all of the people gathered in the living room. He needed more, stronger, liquid courage to pretend everything was normal and okay. Pretend that he’s completely okay with his soulmate hugging and giggling with his best friend. 

He poured out a shot of tequila and instantly tossed it back. He didn’t wince at the taste as he poured himself another one. He rested the large glass bottle onto the counter top as he stared at the small red solo cup in front of him. 

“I thought you hated tequila,” she mumbled as she leaned her head against the door frame. He kept his gaze on the full shot in front of him. His grip tightened on the counter while he shrugged his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

He nodded before he took a hold of the shot and tossed it back. He didn’t react as he took the small plastic shot glass and tossed it into the trash. He lifted his gaze up from the floor, meeting her eye.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she watched him clench his jaw for a second. She watched as the wheels turned in his head, “Are you okay, J?” she asked again while stepping deeper into the kitchen.

She watched as his body practically says fuck it while he pushed away from the counter. He walked directly towards her and took a hold of her head in his hands while he kissed her hard. Stumbling back, she took a hold of his arms for stability. It took her by surprise but she didn’t hesitate to kiss him back.

The kiss didn’t last long since Jack pulled back almost as fast as he kissed her. It felt like all of her blood rushed to her head and the alcohol in her system took front and center. He kept his hold of her cheeks for a moment, his breathing fast as he was running his thumb along the apples of her cheeks.

Stepping back, he ran his hand along his chin. He walked past her, leaving her frozen in place; in utter shock at what just occurred.

Her shaky hand reached towards the cabinet for stability, her legs suddenly weak beneath her. Looking behind her, she assumed that no one saw what just occurred as they were exactly how she left them. She took a much needed deep breath as she practically stumbled towards the fridge. 

She pulled the fridge open and pulled out another White Claw. She didn’t hesitate as she popped the tab open and brought the drink towards her lips. She walked out of the kitchen towards the living room.

“Finish that drink, asap, we’ve got the Ubers like down the street,” Trevor offered. Her eyes widened as she looked towards Jack who was staring towards his phone in his hand. She nodded before she brought the White Claw to her lips. She began chugging. The entire room beside Jack started cheering for her. She crushed it after she was done and giggled. 

Her gaze lingered on Jack but no one noticed, or cared, at the way she was staring towards him. A sigh fell from her lips as she allowed him to ignore her. 

For the next several hours, her and Carlee were the ones at the center of the nightclub’s dance floor. The boys were all hanging on the outside of the dance floor keeping an eye on the pair. A few girls would walk up towards them, begging for their attention. All of the boys except Jack were taking the bait.

A blond girl parked her way in front of him, “You look lonely,” she shouted towards him. He shrugged as he looked past her, seeing Y/N dance and spin almost as if in slow motion. “Your friends all left you alone,” she called out. She drunkenly rested her hand onto his knee. 

The second she touched him, he forced his gaze towards her. “I’m not available!” he shouted towards her. He stood up from his bra stool chair as he slipped away from her. 

Y/N and Carlee were singing and swaying along to the songs. They were both ecstatic that they were able to do this now. Despite it not necessarily being legal. They spent most of their young adolescent years imagining what it would be like to dance drunk side by side in a sweaty night club. Just them two against the world.

Y/N leaned towards Carlee, “You have to get back out there! Go meet someone!” she shouted. Carlee shyly shook her head as she continued to dance to the beat of the song. “Come on! It’s been too long since you’ve gotten any action!” she called out. Carlee pouted her lips as she rolled her eyes dramatically.

“What about you? You go find someone!” Carlee delicately pushed Y/N back slightly. 

“I have someone,” she said, unsure if Carlee heard her, “Go find someone!” Y/N said, pushing Carlee away from her. She spun around, expecting to just continue dancing alone. She was surprised to see Jack in front of her. She grinned as she saw him. “Hey! Where’ve you been!?” she called out.

He shrugged as he dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. He scanned her frame, truly for the first time that night. His mind was too busy to notice how incredibly stunning she looked. Her frame was only covered by a skin tight short black dress. It was glittery and she was practically reflective from the dark blue club lights.

He leaned towards her ear, “I’m sorry I didn’t say this sooner but you look fucking stunning,” he pulled back, watching her eyes lit up from the words leaving his lips. 

“Dance with me!” she shouted towards him, taking a hold of his dark blue button up. It was only buttoned to the middle of his chest. 

“The others could see us!” he shouted. 

“Let it be a drunken dance!” she shouted as she pulled him closer to her. He didn’t hesitate another second as he looped his arms around her waist. They began to dance insync their bodies pressed against one another. 

They stayed facing one another, dancing to the beat of the song as their faces were near inch away from one another. He smiled softly every time their eyes would connect. 

After a few songs passed, she began to spin away from him. Her first intention was to walk away from him, craving another drink. Instead, Jack pulled her back towards him, forcing her back against his chest. 

“Stay,” he whispered into her ear before he brushed her hair away from her neck. 

“Please stay,” he whispered as he pressed his lips beneath her ear. She tilted her head back as her breathing quickened. She didn’t argue, she didn’t want to leave. She craved their bodies to be pressed against one another; moving perfectly together. Almost as if their bodies were made for one another.

“So fucking stunning,” he whispered into her ear as his hands seemed to pull her tighter to his frame. She grinned widely as she leaned into him fully, letting him take control of the way their bodies moved.

~~~

The rest of the night was a blurr. She barely remembered dancing with Jack for the night. Barely remembered how she got back to the house, barely remembered how she ended up in her bed. She had her pajamas on and was alone. 

It’s been several weeks since the last time she woke up alone. Every day in the last three weeks, she was curled up in Jack’s arms. Waking up alone shocked her. 

It was eight in the morning and the rest of the group was still asleep, well besides her brother and sister. They had to head back to their hometown early and Y/N was barely awake enough to say goodbye. 

Her hair was soaking wet from the twenty minute shower she took. It was mainly to fix the raging hangover she was feeling. She gave Oliver and Carlee one more quick hug before she watched them walk down the porch towards his car in the driveway. 

Oliver had a few questions for her, mainly about how her and Jack were inseparable for the entire night. She claimed that she barely remembers dancing with him and that it was probably because they were too drunk to even know what they were doing.

Which was not entirely a lie but she didn’t know how to tell her brother that she was hooking up with Jack and that she was falling for him. 

But she stood in the living room and spun around to hear steps charging towards her. “Was that Ollie?” Jack said as his voice rasped as he spoke. “I wanted to say bye before he left.”

“He had to get on the road early. I’m sorry,” she mumbled. He nodded as he scanned her frame. He took a deep breath as he awkwardly adjusted his shorts on his frame. “You slept in your own room last night,” she observed as she awkwardly brushed her hair away from her face. 

“You were really out of it. Thought you were better off alone,” he began walking away from her. He let out a huff of air as he started down the hallway. 

Clenching her fists as she followed after him, “Are you mad at me?” she called out after him. He spun on his heels as he let out a dry laugh.

“I’m not mad at you,” he let out somewhat harshly. He rounded the corner, he walked into her room; somewhat reluctantly. 

“I’ve been out of it before and you’ve slept in my bed, what’s so different about last night?” she explained as she followed after him. He shut the door behind her, pressing her back against the door. 

Instantly, he kissed her hard. She arched her back into him as his hands gripped her waist tightly. He took a hold of the tanktop and tugged it up her frame. “J–stop,” she let out, pushing him back. A soft laugh falling from her lips. “What is wrong?” he shook his head as he leaned towards her again, urgently trying to kiss her again. 

She raised her hand up, taking a delicate hold of his neck to stop him. He flung his head back, a huff leaving his lips. “Can we–just please,” he begged as he looked over her features desperately. She shook her head as she pushed him back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again.

He let out a dry laugh as he walked towards the center of the bedroom. “What was so secretive with you and Trevor yesterday?” he asked while crossing his arms over his chest. 

“It wasn’t a secret. We were just talking,” she said nonchalantly. 

“There was a lot of hugging and laughing,” he said accusatoryly. 

“Okay, well I was going to tell everyone about this later but–uhm–Trevor was able to get me a job with the Ducks. It barely pays anything–barely covers my tuition at Chapman but it’s a job with a professional team so I’ll get expereince. It’ll be an amazing experience,” she explained, a smile forming to her lips.

“If it barely pays anything, where are you going to live? I mean it’s California,” he asked as he forced his gaze towards the floor.

“Trevor said I could move in with him,” she said softly. 

Jack’s head shot up, his eyebrows furrowed harshly. “What? Are you two gonna share a bed or something?!”

“No! What?! He’s letting me have his guest bedroom, J. Why would you think that?” she let out harshly. 

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?” Jack threw his arms to the side. 

“I didn’t ask Trevor to do anything! I’ve spent all summer talking about missing California. He asked around for me! I didn’t even know until the job interview was scheduled. He went out of his way to do this for me,” 

“Oh, so you and Trevor are like best friends now, huh?” 

“Why do you care about what I am doing with Trevor?”

“I don’t.”

“Why do you care!?”

“I don’t care that you’re moving in with Trevor!?”

“Then what is this? What are we doing right now?!” she asked loudly as she motioned between them. The air was becoming thick as their voices were getting louder.

He took a deep breath as his darken gaze was looking to her eyes desperately. Tears started forming in her eyes as she continued to look towards him. 

“I don’t know,” he let out breathlessly. 

“Give me a reason to go somewhere else,” she let out softly, her heart slamming against her chest. Jack pulled his head back, his lips parting slightly as his vision went blurry ofr a second. 

“Give me a reason to go somewhere else,” she let out again, harsher and more urgent this time. 

She stared into his eyes, searching for an answer. Desperate for an answer. He clenched his jaw as his gaze went from one eye to another before shifting down towards her lips. He took a step towards her, their eyes remained connected. 

“I don’t have one,” he mumbled while tossing his hands to the side. Her mouth fell open as she nodded slowly. A scoff fell from her lips.

“You can’t think of one reason why I should go somewhere else,” she let out, her voice breaking softly. 

“No,” he let out barely above a whisper.

She chewed on her bottom lip while shifting her gaze towards the ceiling. It was as if a thousand stones collapsed onto her chest. She nodded slowly again as she dragged her tongue across her bottom lip. 

“Get out J,” she muttered.

“Y/N?” he asked softly. 

“Get out Jack,”

He looked into her eyes, watching a tear fall onto her cheek. Hearing his full name fall from her lips nearly made him collapse to the ground. His body went weak as the realization of what he was doing dawned on him. She never said his name like that. Rarely did it fall from her lips. But he knew that right now it meant something completely different than it did a couple days ago. 

“Why?” he asked softly, stepping towards her. 

She stayed still, keeping their eyes connected, almost as if she wanted to make sure she heard her next words. “So I can pack,” she let out as she walked past him towards the closet.

“Pack? You’re not leaving! We have two weeks left!” He took steps towards her. 

She spun around, their faces a few inches apart as both of their breathing was unsteady. “If you cannot give me a reason to go somewhere else. I have no reason to stay,” she explained as steadily as she could. 

He dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. Tears were on the edge of falling onto his cheek. Jack nodded as he scanned her features. He dropped his hands to the side as he walked past her. He walked slowly towards the door. “Okay,” he let out barely above a whisper.

She pulled the closet door open and took a hold of all of the clothes she had hanging up. Jack took a hold of the door handle, watching her move quickly back and forth, tossing everything into the two suitcases she laid out onto the bed. 

He bit his bottom lip as he pulled the door open and slipped out of the room. He shut it delicately and crossed the hall towards his own room. He stepped inside, slamming the door shut.

It took her thirty minutes to pack. She kept her tears at bay, despite the headache forming from holding it back. Her body felt tense and hot every minute that passed. But it was finally time for her to leave. She walked out of the bedroom, staring towards Jack’s closed door for a few seconds before she walked towards the living room.

“Hey, hey, hey–what’s this all about?” Quinn called out as he saw her walking out of the hallway with her suitcases trailing behind her. Her eyes widened as she clenched her jaw. 

Her lips parted slightly as her bottom lip quivered. “I–uhm,” she cleared her throat as she looked down the line of all of the boys. They all jumped up from their seats and shifted their attention towards her. 

“I’m moving back to California–as in Trevor is letting me stay with him while I go back to school and work for the Ducks,” 

“That’s awesome! That’s a great opportunity!” Quinn cheered happily as he jogged towards her giving her a quick hug. 

“Look at that!” Luke let out with a chuckle.

“The Ducks? Come on now,” Cole said teasingly.

“It’s a professional team, fantastic experience on my resume,” she said softly. 

“Are we sure the Ducks are a professional team?” Cole teased. Trevor gasped as he shoved Cole.

“You’re one to fucking talk. What was your record last season, Caufield?” Trevor teased.

“You have to leave now?” Quinn asked her while glancing towards Trevor. 

“I want to get my apartment packed up and see my family before I move back to California,” she explained, “So I have to leave early,” she further explained while glancing towards Cole. 

The longer she spoke to the group, the more pain she felt behind her eyes. She gave each of the boys their own goodbye. It would be another year before she saw most of them again. Maybe a dinner in Anaheim for a game but it was still not enough. She wanted those two extra weeks wtih them. With all of them. 

“Where’s Jack?” Cole asked as he pulled away from their embrace. She met his gaze as she dragged her tongue across her bottom lip. Blinking rapidly, she pouted her lips slightly. 

“I told him first and he’s not really happy that I’m leaving,” she explained towards the other boys. “So he’s in his room,” she muttered before taking a deep breath.

Her eyes met Cole’s again. Cole’s small smile faltered. Y/N and Cole never talked about it but she knew that he was aware of the arrangement her and Jack had. He was constantly asking questions and teasing her about it. Her lips started quivering again as she saw the way Cole was looking over her features. It was almost as if he was asking if she was okay through his eyes.

“Okay, I need to go,” she mumbled, feeling like her tears were starting to come up and she didn’t know if she could hold them back much longer. It didn’t take long for them to guide her out of the door. 

“Let us know when you get back to your apartment!” Luke shouted towards her.

She spun around smiling toward them as she walked towards her car. Keeping her back towards the boys, her tears started to fall onto her cheek. She couldn’t hold back any longer.

Cole watched the other three crowd the door watching her leave. Quickly he snuck away down the hallway towards Jack’s room. Cole took a deep breath as he didn’t hesitate to push open the door. 

Jack shot his head up from his hands. His face was covered in tears as he looked towards Cole. 

They were not the type of friends who cried in front of one another. Nothing like the way Jack was crying right now. He was never the type of guy to cry like this, but he was so overwhelmed his body lost control. 

A sob fell from his lips as he put his face back into his hands. His body shook as he continued to cry into his hands. Cole’s mouth fell open as he walked towards the bed. 

“Jack,” Cole mumbled before he sat down beside him. Jack continued to cry into his hands as Cole pressed his hand against the center of Jack’s back. 

He lifted his head up slightly, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. He sniffled while he shook his head. He looked towards Cole while shaking his head slightly. He swallowed harshly.

“I couldn’t tell her to stay,” Jack mumbled as another sob fell from his lips. 

“I couldn’t give her a reason to stay,” he forced his face back into his hands. Cole titled his head back as he took a shaky breath. He’s never seen Jack like this before, he hated seeing his friend like this. “Why couldn’t I tell her to stay?”

June 2024

Jack was sitting in the living room, a Playstation controller in his hand as he was playing Call of Duty. His arm was in a sling from the surgery he had a few weeks back. Luke was sitting beside him, a controller in his own hand. 

“What are you doing!? Dude!” Luke yelled out as he jerked towards Jack. 

“I have like one and a half hands for this!” Jack said while laughing. 

Quinn walked out of the kitchen as he pulled his phone away from his ear. He let out a huff of air as he looked towards the TV. He looked back towards his younger brothers, still yelling towards one another. 

He shifted his gaze from Luke towards Jack and then back towards his phone. Trevor sent him a text saying that they were only a few minutes from the house. Which meant it was now time to tell Jack the news.

Quinn stood at the back of the couch, he rested his hands onto the couch. He stared towards the screen, watching them both lose. He pressed his lips together as he fought off a laugh climbing in his throat.

“What was that, Lukey? You were supposed to have my back!” Jack shouted while laughing.

“I couldn’t fucking see you!” Luke shot back.

“So Trevor, Y/N, and Cole are almost here. Should probably get ready for them to get here,” Quinn said, cautiously looking down towards Jack. He said her name quickly. Luke simply nodded as he turned off the playstation with his controller. He rested it onto the coffee table before he walked towards the hallway leading towards his room.

Jack’s entire body froze as her name left Quinn’s lips. He hasn’t heard her name in months. His heart jumped into his throat as his breathing seemed to stop. It was suddenly impossible to breathe.

“Y/N’s coming?” Jack let out barely above a whisper. Her name felt foreign against his tongue as he blinked rapidly. 

Images of her flashed in his mind. The smile that literally would light up a room as soon as she would grin. The way her eyes would squint at something dumb he would say. Her lips, her perfect lips he could stare and kiss forever. He missed kissing her, he missed the way her lips pressed against his as if they were made for one another.

“Took a lot of convincing but yeah, she’ll be here,” Quinn offered. Jack shot up from the couch as he faced Quinn. He tossed his good arm to the side. 

“You guys convinced her to come here? After last summer?” Jack asked, shaking his head slightly. “Seriously?!”

Quinn took a deep breath as he shifted his gaze towards the front door. His face scrunched up slightly before he pressed his lips together. He took a deep breath, “Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Y/N last year but she’s not just your friend. It would be weird without her,” Quinn explained.

“Don’t you think it would be weird with her here and me here?” he asked, his heart slamming against his chest. “An–And you seriously waited to tell me she was coming until she was down the fucking road!” He called out. 

“What the hell happened between you two? I mean seriously, if any of us say her name you get all jumpy. God fucking forbid Trevor brings her up,” Quinn explained. Jack shook his head, a scoff leaving his lips. “You seriously cannot still be mad at her for–”

“That’s not why we stopped talking and I’m not that fucking petty!” he shouted towards Quinn before he started walking down towards the hallway leading towards his room. Jack stumbled away from Luke who was walking back into the living room. 

“What’s with him?” Luke asked as he pointed behind him. Quinn took a sharp breath as he glanced towards the front door. He saw the Uber pull up towards the lakehouse through the glass doors.

“He found out Y/N was coming,” Quinn mumbled as he watched the three of them climb out of the car. They were dragging suitcases behind them after Cole slammed the trunk closed.

“He didn’t know? It’s always the six of us, why wouldn’t she come?” Luke let out nonchalantly as he saw Cole and Trevor jog towards the doors. Y/N walked slowly, practically not moving at all. Quinn looked behind him, “They’re still not talking?” Luke questioned.

“No,” Quinn let out through a huff of air loving his lips.

“This is going to be so fun,” Luke let out sarcastically as he forced a smile to his lips. 

Cole and Trevor bolted up the porch, pushing the door open. “Quinton and Lukey boy!” Trevor shouted as he bolted inside. He excitedly hugged Quinn before he wrapped his arms around Luke. Cole chuckled as he followed in pursuit. He hugged Quinn, whispering a hello before he walked towards Luke.

Y/N walked up the steps, dragging her suitcase up the stairs. She pushed inside the door, rolling it beside Cole and Trevor’s. She forced a tight lip smile towards the four boys in front of her. 

“We’re so glad you’re here,” Quinn said as he pulled Y/N in a tight embrace. She chuckled against his chest as she returned the hug.

“I don’t think I had much of a choice. Trev threatened to drag me out of the apartment by my ankles if I didn’t come with,” she joked as she gave Luke a brief hug. She looked past him to see Jack emerging from the hallway. Her smile fell off of her lips as she dropped her gaze towards the floor. 

Jack took a deep breath as he forced a wide grin on his lips as he jogged towards the group. “What’s up you guys?” he cheered as Trevor hugged him cautiously. 

She cleared her throat as she took a hold of her suitcase. “I’m going to unpack,” she mumbled as she started walking towards the hallway leading towards her room. Her room has so many messy memories, she was almost afraid to step into it. 

The boys all shifted their gaze towards her. Her gaze was on the floor as she continued walking away from them. Their smiles all faltered as they shared awkward glances. Jack stood beside Cole as he stared towards the hallway, watching her walk away.

Cole looked over Jack’s side profile. Watching Jack clench his jaw, he saw that Jack wasn’t breathing. He saw his cheeks pink up as the lack of oxygen was starting to actually take an effect. Cole punched Jack’s good arm. Jack tilted his gaze to the side, meeting Cole’s eye. Jack took a deep breath before he forced another smile on his lips.

“You boys unpack, we have a boat to get drunk on!” Jack said loudly before he walked towards the hallway. The other boys all shared awkward laughter as they continued to talk loudly amongst each other. 

Jack walked towards his room, he reached towards the door handle. Looking behind him, he saw her door was wide open. His posture straightened as he looked into the room. His heart was slamming against his chest. 

She looked good, better than good. She was glowing. It was like seeing her for the first time again. He never wanted to look anywhere else. She was a breath of fresh air, seeing her after all of this time was like breathing for the first time ever.

He leaned back, chewing on his bottom lip as he scanned her frame. She was walking back and forth from the closet to the bed. 

She lifted her head up, looking into the hallway. Their eyes instantly connected. She froze in place as her breathing started to quicken. She gripped the shirt in her hand tightly as she began to blink rapidly. 

His lips parted as a million different words were at the tip of his tongue. He began to take a step towards her. At his sudden half step towards her, she began to walk towards the door. The corner of his lips curled upward as their eyes remained connected. She took a hold of the door and slammed it shut. 

His head pulled back, almost as if it was slammed directly in his face. He felt his skin go hot. His lips parted as he was now staring towards the closed door. He clenched his jaw as he tilted his head back. 

He opened the door to his own room as he stepped inside. Slamming it shut himself. Jack walked towards the bed and sat back down again, his breathing quickened as he shook his head.

~~~

Y/N sat in her usual spot on the boat. Her legs were curled up against her chest. Trevor was laying beside her, his head was against her thigh. Every few seconds she would brush the hair away from his forehead. Her gaze was staring towards the water as she watched the water lap. The orange glow from the sunset reflected in the water was always her favorite. 

She has hundreds of photos but nothing matched the way it looked in person. No photo could ever do it justice. She brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face as she stared towards the water. 

“Y/N,” Trevor mumbled beside her. She dropped her gaze towards him, meeting his gaze. She brushed his hair away from his forehead again. It was more for her, it was something to distract her from the fact that Jack was across from her on the boat. His body was shirtless, despite his arm still in a sling. 

“Talk to him,” he whispered. She shook her head as she looked back towards the water, her fingertips still running through his hair. She was drunk, that just clicked in her head. She was definitely drunk because she was getting dizzy staring at the water. “Y/N, come on,” 

“I’m drunk, I have nothing good to say,” she mumbled before she looked back down towards him.

Jack sat beside Quinn, his leg was bouncing hard as he stared towards Y/N. He continuously clenched his jaw as he felt his body tense. He couldn’t stand how close they’ve gotten. They could look at one another and know exactly what the other one was thinking. He hated watching her touch him so delicately, exactly like she used to with him.

She replaced him with Trevor. It was obvious. He wondered if they had a similar arrangement. It would be a lot easier. They see each other for several more months out of the year. Share a wall even. Maybe he was right, maybe they did share a bed.

He was getting more and more mad the longer he watched her glide her fingers through his hair. That was his spot. He slammed his fist against his thigh, wincing in pain as he shocked himself with the strength. He dropped his gaze towards his lap. 

“They’ve gotten close, huh?” Quinn said as he subtly pointed towards their direction. Jack looked towards Quinn, their eyes met as Jack continued to clench his jaw. He forced out a hum as he dropped his gaze back towards his lap. He began blinking rapidly, he needed to punch something. He clenched his fist on his thigh again. 

“I’m getting cold, can we head back to the house?” Jack asked softly towards Quinn. Their eyes met again. Quinn looked over Jack’s features, maybe even seeing tears brim his eyes. Quinn squinted his eyes slightly as he looked towards the other people on the boat. 

Cole was laying on the floor of the boat as he was loudly laughing with Luke. Trevor was sitting up now, a decent distance away from Y/N. He was talking to her, instead of a conversation since she was staring towards the water. 

“Are you guys ready to swing back?” he asked the group. Y/N turned her head, her eyes meeting Jack’s. Their eyes remained connected as Quinn hopped into the driver’s seat. Jack ran his hand across his chin as he watched her look away. He tilted his head back, looking towards the sky as a scoff left his lips. 

“Absolutely, I’m fucking starving,” Luke said as he kicked Cole on the side teasingly. Cole jolted before he stood up from his lying position. He sat down beside Jack, purposely bumping Jack’s good shoulder. 

Cole watched Jack stare towards Y/N and Trevor. Cole swallowed harshly as he whispered, “They’re just friends.”

Jack dropped his gaze back towards his lap, “Yeah, well, so we’re we,” he said in reference to Y/N. Cole didn’t say anything further as he awkwardly shifted his gaze everywhere. 

Luke cleared his throat as he leaned back on the boat, “Pool tourney when we get back?” Luke announced, he held his hands to the side. Everyone but Jack and Y/N agreed. She rarely played and she definitely wasn’t going to play when she was this drunk. “Awesome, I’m gonna order some pizza before we start,”

“Do we have any water?” Trevor asked. Jack perked up at the question. He leaned down and took a hold of the last one in the small cooler near him. The medicine he has been on for his shoulder doesn’t mix well with alcohol. He held it up for Trevor. “Great,” he let out as he manuvered his way towards Jack.

Meeting Trevor’s gaze as he handed him the bottle. Trevor nodded slightly as he manuvered back towards his sitting position beside Y/N.

Jack watched as Y/N refused the water for a few seconds. Trevor had opened the bottle and handed it to her. She reluctantly brought it towards her lips.

It didn’t take long for the boat to get docked back by their house. Luke and Cole were the first ones to bolt off of the boat. Quinn was making sure it was secured before he ran off back towards the house. 

Jack stood up, walking towards the edge of the boat that lined up with the dock. He watched as Trevor looped his arm around her waist. She wrapped her arm around Trevor’s shoulder as he helped her off of the boat. 

“Okay, one step–good. There you go,” Trevor mumbled. Jack clenched his jaw as he watched Trevor’s hands lower on her hip as she climbed out of the boat. “Come on, Y/N,” he overheard Trevor say as they continued down the dock. Jack stood still while he ran his hand over his bad shoulder.

“Tell me what happened with you two,” Quinn offered as he stood at the end of the dock. Quinn rested his hands onto his hips as he stepped away from the boat. Jack climbed off of the boat, meeting Quinn’s gaze. 

“It’s a long story,” Jack let out defeatedly. 

“Luke’s probably ordering everything off of the menu, we’ve got time.” Quinn offered as he crossed his arms over his chest, “I’ll walk really slowly,” he let out jokingly. Jack tossed his head back while laughing.

“Okay,” Jack let out a breath he was holding. “I had a game against the Red Wings the Decemember before last summer. I couldn’t sleep and I honestly was excited to see her. So I invited her to come hang out at my hotel room—” he began to explain as he glanced towards Quinn.

“You didn’t,” Quinn mumbled.

“I didn’t plan on anything. I literally just wanted to hang out with her. But I kissed her and one thing led to another and we hooked up,” he avoided Quinn’s eye, “We hooked up and I thought everything went back to normal. I mean she went to lunch with Lukey and I; and she went to my game. It was normal. After that, everything was fine. We texted and called everyday, it was fine,” 

“I was nervous to see her in person again. But it seemed so fine between us that it seemed like it was going to be perfectly normal. And then she walked through that door and I swear to God she was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Didn’t the three of them burst into the house singing Hot in Herre by Nelly last year?” Quinn asked while laughing. 

“They did,” Jack chuckled softly, “But she was so beautiful and funny because you know that definitely was her idea,” he shook his head slightly. “We were avoiding each other that first day here until that night when we hooked up again,”

Quinn let out an urgent breath while shaking his head. 

“And then we thought–I thought–why should we stop? So I brought up doing a little arrangement where we have sex and you know be friends,” 

“So friends with benefits?” Quinn asked as he rested his hands onto his hips.

“Uh, yeah. It happened all summer until we argued the morning after her birthday. I got jealous over the fact that she was moving in with Trevor. I was mad that she went to him about her struggles instead of me. I was mad that I wasn’t her person even though we slept together and she fell asleep in my arms every night. I was pissed and she left,” 

Quinn stopped walking, gripping Jack’s good arm. “So she didn’t leave early to pack her apartment up?” he asked. Jack shook his head. “Holy shit,” Jack nodded slowly as the pair began walking again. “Every night, really?” Quinn asked as his face scrunched up slightly. 

Jack let out a nervous laugh while running his hand across his chin. “Sometimes during the day too,” he mumbled while Quinn groaned.

“Oh god, I did not need to know that,”

Trevor guided her towards her bedroom, his arm still looped around her waist to stablize her. Trevor carefully rested her onto the bed. She slumped slightly as she forced her eyes open. “How much did you drink?” he asked her, “I swear it wasn’t more than like four?” he said as he walked towards the closet. He pulled the door open. Looking behind him, he saw her lean back onto her hands. 

“It was four Caufield Cocktails and–” she hiccuped, “I didn’t eat today,” she explained. His eyes widened as he took a hold of a t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“You let Cole make you drinks and you didn’t eat today?! Did you want a death sentence?” Trevor let out urgently as he walked towards the bed. He dropped the clothes beside her. 

“I didn’t wanna see Jack,” she slurred as she slumped her shoulders slightly. 

Trevor straightened her posture. “Let’s get out of this,” he said, referring to the bikini and coverall on her body. 

“I’ve got it,” she mumbled. He stared towards her suspiciously. “Turn around,” she urged. He nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest as he stared towards the closet door. 

“What happened with you and Jack?” he asked, hoping she would spill the beans because she was so drunk. 

“You’re only asking me because you think I won’t remember telling you,” she explained as she pulled the coverall off her frame. She tossed it to the floor. She took a deep breath as she took a hold of the t-shirt. Slowly, she brought it over her frame, carefully putting her arms through the arm holes. Her bikini top was still on her frame but she didn’t realize it. 

“Why don’t you want to see Jack?” Trevor asked, still facing away from her. 

She took in a dramatic breath as she stood up from the bed, stumbling slightly. After a few seconds, she took a hold of her shorts and slid them up her frame. “We hooked up,” she mumbled. 

Trevor spun around a gasp leaving his lips. “You what?!” 

“And then we hooked up all last summer,” she let out as she sat down onto the bed. Trevor dropped his hands to the side. “Like–mind blowing sex all of the time,” she explained drunkenly. Trevor cringed at every word that left her lips but she was drunk so he let it slide. 

“Wait, did you two hook up before the summer?” he asked as he sat down on the corner of the bed.

She laid down onto the bed. “I asked him to gi–give me a reason to not go,” she explained as she pulled the comforter towards her face. Slowly, she snuggled into the blanket. Her eyes shut. “He couldn’t,” she let out as she got teary eyed. She sniffled as she hugged the blanket towards her face. 

“I was in love with him and he couldn’t give me a reason,” she mumbled right before she completely fell asleep.

Trevor froze as he watched her fall asleep mid conversation. He stood up from the bed, his head dizzy from the sudden information dumped onto him. He asked for it and he was expecting anything but the information she told him. He took a sharp intake of breath as he snuck out of her room. 

He walked towards the living room watching Quinn and Jack walk into the house. Trevor’s eyes went wide as he darted towards the basement where the pool tournament was being held. Trevor needed to avoid Jack, desperately needed to hide the drunk information that Y/N told him at his request.

He was better off not knowing. Trevor practically leaped down the stairs. Cole and Luke were setting up the table as they were laughing loudly. Luke jolted back as he watched Trevor nearly fall down the steps. 

“Is Y/N okay?” Cole asked while leaning against the bar countertop. 

“You are not allowed to make her drinks anymore,” he pointed accusingly towards Cole. Cole chuckled while rolling his eyes playfully. “She’s asleep in her room. I’m probably gonna wake her up in like two hours to eat some food,” he explained as he walked towards the pool table. 

“I am a great bartender,” Cole offered before he brought his red solo cup towards his lips. Trevor rolled his eyes as he spun his head around to see Jack and Quinn walking down the stairs. He forced his gaze towards the pool table in front of him, his eyes wide. “Finally, Jacky you’re on scorekeeper,” Cole expressed as he pushed away from the bar top.

Jack rolled his eyes playfully as he sat down on the couch beside the chalkboard. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he began to scroll through his Twitter feed. Trevor gulped as he ran his fingers through his hair. The only thought on his mind was the drunken words that fell from Y/N’s lips.

I was in love with him and he couldn’t give me a reason. I was in love with him and he couldn’t give me a reason. I was in love with him and he couldn’t give me a reason.

Trevor desperately wanted to tell Jack what she told him but he knew it wasn’t his place. He was forced into silence as he took a hold of a pool stick. 

“Trev,” Jack said as he lifted his gaze up from his phone for a second. Trevor spun around, looking towards Jack. “Is she okay?” the question fell from his lips at a genuine tone. The question had been circling his mind from the moment he saw her stumbling off of the boat.

Trevor scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “So now you care how she’s doing?” Trevor asked as the room fell silent. Cole, Quinn, and Luke shared awkward glances as they awkwardly huddled together on the opposite side of the pool table. 

Jack furrowed his eyebrows as he pulled his head back slightly, “What?” Jack asked as he looked into Trevor’s eyes. Trevor clenched his jaw as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Do you wanna know why she’s passed out drunk at seven p.m.?” Trevor pointed his question to Jack. Slowly, Jack stood up, shrugging slightly. He looked into Trevor’s eyes, squinting slightly. 

“She didn’t want to see you! I don’t know what happened with you two last summer, but it was so bad that she would rather be passed out alone and drunk than be around you!” Trevor said harshly. 

“You’re right! You don’t know what happened, so keep your mouth shut!” Jack expressed loudly as he pushed Trevor back. Trevor clenched his jaw as he scanned Jack’s features. “Especially you!”

“Especially me, what the hell does that mean?!” Trevor shouted.

Jack clenched his jaw as he shook his head slightly. A dry chuckle left his lips while shaking his head. After several seconds, Jack started walking away. “Keep track of your own fucking scores,” he shouted out towards the group as he bolted up the steps.

His entire body tensed as he walked towards the kitchen; desperate for a drink. He wasn’t supposed to drink on the medication he was on but one drink wouldn’t kill him. At least he thought it wouldn’t kill him. He took a hold of the large vodka bottle and poured it into a large red solo cup. It was definitely more than two shots but he didn’t care. He took a hold of a mixer and poured it into the cup; maybe to dilute it.

He brought it towards his lips and took long sips. It didn’t take long for the cup to be empty. He tossed the cup into the trash can before he stormed out of the kitchen again. He walked down the hall towards his room. 

Taking a hold of the door handle, he shifted his gaze towards her room. He took a deep breath as he tossed his head back. She was going to wake up so hungover tomorrow. He shifted back and forth, debating on if he should go inside. 

He sighed as he walked out away from the doors. Jack manuvered through the living room and back towards the kitchen.

He darted towards the fridge, pulling it open swiftly. Jack took a hold of a water bottle. A groan fell from his lips as he slammed it shut. He walked towards the opposite side of the kitchen, flavor packets were all laid out in a container. He took a hold of one of the liquid IV packets and began walking out of the kitchen again.

“What am I doing?” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. He let out a huff of air as he walked down the hall. “Stupid,” he muttered as he pushed the door open. His eyes landed on her, she was asleep. Her face was smashed into the pillow. His heart jumped into his throat. He delicately shut the door behind him.

Walking towards her, he squeezed the plastic water bottle in his head a few times. He sat down beside her, he rested the bottle on the nightstand. He dropped the packet beside the bottle. Carefully, he rested his hand onto her arm. He shook her slightly, she jolted awake. Her eyes widened instantly. 

He muffled a laugh as he watched her blink rapidly. She looked towards Jack, a groan falling from her lips. “Go away,” she mumbled as she smashed her face deeper into the pillow. 

Jack carefully twisted the top of the water bottle off and rested it onto the nightstand. He took the packet of liquid IV and brought it towards his mouth. Using his teeth, he ripped open the packet. 

“Pizza should be here soon, you should stay up to eat and then go to bed,” he explained as he managed to pour the powder into the plastic water bottle. Only spilling some of the powder onto the nightstand. 

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, her eyes shutting again. He covered the water bottle again before he took a hold of it. He began shaking it to mix it together. “Go away, Jack,”

“Drink this,” he slammed it down onto the nightstand, “Or don’t. Whatever,” he mumbled before he stood up from the bed. Without looking back he walked out of the room and directly towards his own room. 

~~~

The following few days were still awkward with everyone. Jack was isolating himself, he thought it would be better to let himself cool off. He was avoiding being social and having to explain his outburst. Even though Quinn and Trevor knew what it was about. Trevor tried to not take it personally. 

Luke was trying to pry, nosy and desperate for details. He was constantly bugging Trevor for details. Y/N was completely out of the loop, no one told her about Jack and Trevor’s argument. They were doing everything in their power to still enjoy their time away with the tension between Y/N and Jack. 

She walked out of her room, her frame only covered by a black bikini. Her gaze was on her phone as she was adjusting the sunglasses on her head. She pushed her hair back as she rested it back down onto her head. 

Lifting her head up, she saw a shirtless Jack standing just in front of the doorway to the kitchen. Their eyes connected. Her lips parted slightly as she felt her legs feel weak beneath her. Suddenly, breathing felt impossible as she continued to look into his softening gaze. Clenching her jaw, she tapped her thumb against her phone screen.

He looked good. She hated that he looked good. She could’ve sworn that his body was not this toned last summer. Her gaze lowered towards his body, scanning each curve of his muscles. A memory flashed in her mind of her sitting in his lap, admiring the way his body tensed and flexed under her touch. The way her fingertips glided along his skin, purposely creating a reaction out of him.

Swallowing harshly, she forced her gaze back up towards him. Their eyes connected again and it felt like time stopped. She took a quick breath realizing she hasn’t took a breath in several long seconds. 

“Where’s everyone else?” she asked barely above a whisper. 

Jack’s eyes widened as he took a deep breath. He dragged his tongue across his bottom lip as he glanced behind him. He flung his arms to his side. His sling is no longer on his arm. He was cleared yesterday to start physical therapy which meant no more brace and sling. 

“Gym,” he let out simply before he nodded slowly. 

“Where’s your sling?” she asked while pointing towards him with her hand holding her phone. 

Looking down, almost as if he forgot it was gone. He took a sudden breath as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s only as needed now,” he explained while nodding. She hummed as she dropped her gaze towards the floor. 

“Thank you for the other night. I know I was pretty out of it but I remember you helping me,” she explained. The words left her lips genuinely. The space between them is seemingly shrinking. She wasn’t sure if she was walking towards him or if it was the other way around. 

“I just put the powder in the water bottle and put it on the nightstand,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. 

“With one hand, it was impressive,” she let out jokingly. A breathy laugh left his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

“I’ve got skills,” he let out teasingly. 

She chuckled softly as she rolled her eyes playfully. He let out another laugh as he looked into her eyes. Desperate to find out if this was momentary or if she was okay with being around him. But the tight-lip polite smile that formed onto her lips told him that it was momentary and that she was darting to the opposite side of the house again. 

“I’m gonna–” she trailed off before she turned and began to walk towards the backdoor leading towards the back deck. Jack didn’t call after her, didn’t say anything more. He let out a long breath before he plopped down onto the couch; careful of his shoulder. 

It took another twenty minutes before the other boys returned to the house. Luke led the charge. Steam practically spewing out of his ears. He stormed inside. “You and Y/N hooked up?” he yelled out accusingly. Jack spun around, his mouth falling open. His gaze shifted towards Quinn who was following after Luke urgently. “Why the hell would you guys do that!?” he yelled out.

“Fucking can’t tell Quinn anything,” Jack mumbled before he looked towards Quinn harshly. He watched an apology fall from his lips. 

“So that’s why you two can’t fucking stand being in the same room as one another?”

“Lukey,” Jack mumbled as he stood up from the couch.

“You couldn’t keep it in your pants so you made it awkward for everyone else! What am I supposed to do, choose sides?!” Luke continued to shout. 

Trevor and Cole disappeared outside where Y/N was at. Quinn shifted awkwardly as he watched his youngest brother’s skin turn pink from anger.

“This has nothing to do with you!”

“You ruined a perfect thing that we had going here! It was your rule to not pursue her!” Luke called out. 

Y/N was sitting on one of the chairs outside, her sunglasses on her face and her Kindle in front of her. Trevor and Cole were whispering towards one another as they looked back towards her.

Pulling the Kindle away from her gaze, she looked at the boys in front of her. “What can I do for you?” She asked sarcastically as she rested the Kindle beside her. The sound of muffled yelling came from inside. She turned around looking inside. “What’s happening?” She asked softly.

“I think everyone knows,” Trevor mumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest. Her eyes widened slightly as she nodded slowly trying to understand what he meant by that.

“Know what?” she asked, drawing out the words. 

“About you and Jack,” he let out as he took a deep breath. She shook her head slowly, still confused on what Trevor was getting at. He let out a dramatic sigh, “About you two hooking up last summer,” he let out as if it was holding him hostage.

Her mouth fell open as she shook her head. A nervous chuckle fell from her lips. “How did you know about that?” She asked Trevor, mainly pointing her question to Cole.

“You told me the other night,” he let out while looking towards the sky.

“Did I tell you or did you pry the information out of me because I was drunk,” she asked while resting her hands onto her hips. “Wait, how does Quinn and Luke know?” She asked glancing behind her, the muffled yelling was continuing.

“I guess Jack told Quinn and you know Quinn can’t keep a secret,” Trevor said. Trevor’s eyes widened as he looked towards Cole. A gasp fell from Trevor’s lips, “Wait how did you know?!”

Cole tossed his head back and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Because I have eyes, Because I am observant!” he let out through a laugh. Trevor scoffed. “I mean this with love, Y/N, but Jack’s a slut and Y/N likes to have a good time, right? But all of a sudden both of them stopped bringing people home for the night or were disappearing for hours on end together. Ya’ll just can’t pay attention to shit.”

“Were we really that obvious?” she pointed her question to Cole. 

“Clearly not to anyone else,” Cole mumbled as she shoved Trevor to the side. 

The muffled yelling seemed to simmer down but it was obvious tension was still high between the brothers inside. Jack stepped outside, a huff of air leaving his lips. His eyes widened as he was surprised to see Y/N still sitting outside. Her body straightened. 

Without saying anything, Trevor and Cole both agreed to walk back into the house to leave Y/N and Jack alone. Jack’s eyes widened as he watched them walk away from them. She clenched her jaw as she slumped into the chair while she tilted her head back against the chair. 

“So Quinn and Luke know about us,” Jack let out quietly. She rolled her eyes playfully as she pursed her lips forward. “And I guess Trevor does too. I think Cole always knew,” he continued while crossing his arms over his chest. His declaration was left in the air for a second. She nodded as she dragged her tongue over her bottom lip. He chuckled dryly as he began to walk towards the chair on the opposite side of her.

“Jack,” she let out softly as she trailed his movements. He let out a dramatic groan as he flopped down onto the chair. He took a hold of his shoulder, wincing. His face scrunched up in disgust. “So you told Quinn?”

Jack nodded as a hum fell from his lips, “Wouldn’t stop asking me questions,” he explained while looking towards her, maybe meeting her gaze.

“I told Trevor,” she turned her head, looking down towards her lap. She began twisting the ring on her pointer finger. 

“Figured,” Jack mumbled.

Clenching her jaw, she took a deep breath. “It was the other night when I was drunk. He knew I wouldn’t remember telling him,” she explained. Jack’s eyes widened as his posture straightened. “Trev, also wouldn’t stop asking me questions,” she explained. He nodded slowly as he tapped his fingertips against the arm of the chair. 

They sat beside each other in silence, feeling as though there was a literal wall forming between them. Her body was erupting in goosebumps as she kept glancing in his direction. He was already looking towards her with a thousand words on the tip of his tongue. 

“How’s living with Trevor?” Jack as he leaned forward, resting his arms onto his thighs. She pulled the sun glasses from her face, folding them and resting it onto the side table.

“Pretty lonely honestly,” she mumbled. Jack furrowed his eyebrows as their eyes connected. His breath caught in his throat, god her eyes were so beautiful. Clenching her jaw for a moment, “He was gone a lot with his girlfriend and games. I didn’t mind it but yeah it’s been fine,” she explained softly. 

Jack nodded as he chewed on his bottom lip, “How’s the job?” he asked. Instantly, her eyes lit up as a wide grin formed to her lips.

She began to talk rapidly about the experience. It was everything and more than what she expected. She probably was talking for more than a couple minutes but Jack didn’t care. The only thing on his mind was the fact that he has missed hearing her voice more than anything. 

He forgot how much her voice relaxed him, every ounce of tension in his body seemed to disappear. Any amount of frustration seemed to disappear in a moment's notice. All he wanted was for her to know that he missed her more than anything.

She took a deep breath after she explained a story about her new co-workers. He laughed with her as she told the story. Her laugh was probably his favorite sound. No matter how loud or muffled it sounded, it was his favorite. 

After a few more seconds, Trevor stepped out into the back patio. Clearing his throat, he shifted awkward glances between Y/N and then to Jack. “Cole’s dying to go clubbing. You guys in?” Trevor asked, looking towards Y/N if she needed any assistance. 

“Definitely,” Jack and Y/N said at the same time. She jolted her gaze back towards Jack, suddenly hyper aware of the situation. She cleared her throat.

“I’m going to go get ready then,” she stood up as she spoke. 

“It’s like noon,” Jack let out teasingly. 

Her mouth fell open, “I mean if I’m going to a club, I’m going to need a nap,” she offered without looking back towards the boys behind her. 

“Yeah me too,” Jack mumbled as he stood up. He began to walk past Trevor, instead Trevor took a hold of Jack’s arm. 

“I’m sorry about–”

“No I’m sorry,” Jack interrupted, “I don’t know what she told you or how much she told you but I’ve been a dick to you and that’s not on you,” he explained.

Trevor let out a soft laugh, “Okay, well, that’s true but I didn’t have to come at you like that,” he said softly. 

Jack let out a long dramatic sigh as the pair started walking back towards the house, “Yeah, well, I deserved it,”

~~~

It was well into the night and they were all gone. Drunk and dizzy but they were all dancing like nothing mattered. No focus on cameras or wandering eyes, they were there to enjoy themselves and that is what they did.

Luke, Cole, and Trevor had disappeared early in the night. Each of them had texted the group chat that they were busy. Which is code for they found a girl and were either leaving with her or they were sticking together for rest of the night. 

Quinn was in big brother mode, busy scanning the crowd making sure the ones that were still there werwe safe. In reality, he was focusing on Y/N making sure she was okay and able to still function. He was enjoying himself, dancing with a few girls here and there but he kept watching over Y/N.

Jack stood near the bartop, his eye strictly on Y/N. He was leaning back on his arms, a drink still in his hand. His gaze scanned her movements, his frame overheating. Perhaps from the heat of the endless bodies in the night club or because of her. He chewed on his bottom lip, feeling his heart slam against his chest. 

Her body seemed to move perfectly in sync with the beat of the song. Her hips swayed back and forth as her hands seemed to move freely with her. She was alone, between the sea of people; seemingly pushing away any guy that tried to get close and personal with her. 

Jack contemplated on walking towards her, dancing with her but he knew it was better off staying away. 

Until Jack saw a man that seemed double his own size approach her. He titled his head back as he waited for her to send him packing. Yet she spun around looking towards the freakishly tall man. She continued to sway and move to the beat of the song, her hands rested on the stranger’s chest. Jack cleared his throat as he watched her spin around. 

His lips parted as the stranger pulled her against his frame. The stranger was whispering in her ear. It was dark and hard to see in the club but he could see Y/N’s smile from miles away. It was wide and bright. Jack was sure it was a drunken grin but she looked like she was enjoying every second of it. 

Jack’s vision blurred as he felt his entire body tense. He pulled his drink towards his lips as he chugged the whole drink. He left it on the bar top, the ice was the only thing remaining in the glass.

If she can flaunt being with someone else, so could he. 

Sure, he was mad. He was always the jealous type with her. Never was with any of his girlfriends but with Y/N he was so possessive. He hated when any of the other guys were close with her but it never made sense before. For years, he thought it was because she was his favorite and close friend.

But it didn’t take long for him to realize it was because he was in love with her. He never wanted anyone else to be near her with any kind of intentions. But she clearly no longer felt the same way. Or she never felt the same way, he wasn’t sure.

He darted through the sea of people, trying to find someone, anyone, willing to participate in his act of making Y/N jealous. Or maybe make her look in his direction. He could still see her in his line of sight as he approached a model-esq blonde woman. Instantly, she spun around smiling towards Jack. 

It didn’t take much effort from Jack. The girl scanned Jack’s features and instantly took a hold of Jack’s black t-shirt and pulled him towards her. He looped his arms around the girl’s waist letting her lead the motion. She instantly pressed her ass against him. Jack’s eyes widened, as he followed her movements. His body instantly reacted at the contact. 

Jack looked towards Y/N, watching her seemingly ignore him. A huff of air left his lips as he tried to focus on the beautiful girl in front of him. But she wasn’t his beautiful girl. His beautiful girl was in the arms of someone else. He hated it. After a few seconds, he shifted his gaze towards the girl in front of him for only a moment.

Lifting his head up, looking back towards Y/N’s direction and she was gone. Jack froze in place, forcing the girl in front of him to let out an exasperated sigh and slip away from his grasp. Jack barely noticed that she was no longer pressed against him, he stood still. His eyes widened as he watched the sea of people move and shift; hoping for Y/N to be in his line of sight. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket, he sighed as he pulled it out.

Y/N: Ubering back to the lakehouse, not alone!

He stared towards the message and was convinced he heard his heart shatter in his chest. He clenched his jaw repeatedly as he continued to stare at the message. The boys in the chat started sending in messages, wolf whistling through text. He swallowed harshly.

His feet seemed to be cemented into the ground at the center of the dance floor. He couldn’t move. His mind began to replay their last moment together in this club. How beautiful she looked in the skin tight black dress. Memories of him bunching the fabric in his hands, the way her body moved in sync with his. The smile on her lips as he whispered into her ear. His body reacted and blended perfectly with hers. 

He swallowed harshly as the image was soon replaced with her dancing with someone else. How was he supposed to go home and sleep across the hall? He squeezed his phone in his hand before he dropped his hand to the side.

He was jolted, blinking rapidly as he looked towards Quinn beside him. He took a shaky breath as he met Quinn’s gaze. “Let’s go home!” Quinn shouted to Jack, keeping a hold of Jack’s arm. 

“How am I supposed to do that!?” he shouted towards Quinn. Jack’s eyes were tearing up as he looked into his older brother’s gaze. “I can’t!” Jack let out while shaking his head. 

Quinn nodded slowly. “You can! Come on!” he shouted, dragging him through the crowd of people. 

The ride back to the lake house took twenty minutes and Jack didn’t say a single word. Quinn didn’t pry, didn’t say anything about what was probably happening in her bedroom back at the lake house. 

He was practically steaming with frustration. He was mad at himself more than anything. He messed everything up because he was jealous and scared. He couldn’t tell her he was in love with her. He couldn’t bring himself to say it to her and now she’s done with him.

He squinted his eyes harshly as he the image of the man pressed against Y/N, flirting and dancing against one another. He clenched his fist repeatedly as he hit it against his thigh.

Cole, Trevor, and Luke were all going to different girls’ houses, which meant Quinn, Jack, and Y/N were the only ones left at the lake house. The Uber pulled up to the house. Letting the two boys out. 

Jack was darting towards the door, no hesitation in any of his steps towards the house. “Jack!” Quinn called out as he chased after him. Jack didn’t slow down a second as he bolted toward the hallway where their shared bedrooms were at. “Jack! Come on!” Quinn shouted as he jogged after him. Jack was raising his hand, ready to slam his fist against the door. “Jack seriously!” Quinn stopped beside Jack.

A scoff left Jack’s lips as he rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t get to do this! Not with me across the hall!” he let out loudly. 

“She does! She has every right to move on and so do you!” Quinn said as he pointed towards the door. 

“I don’t want–” he trailed off as he tilted his head back. “She can move on all she wants in California but not here! Not in my own damn house!” he whispered loudly as he went to raise his hand up to knock on the door.

“Jack,” Quinn scolded as her door was pulled open enough for her to poke her head out. 

A sudden gasp left their lips as their eyes widened. “Y/N,” Quinn let out quietly. 

“Y/N, please don’t do this,” Jack pleaded as he looked into her eyes. A huff of air left her lips as she pulled the door open to reveal that she was alone in her room. 

“Do what?” she asked knowingly. Jack let out a dry laugh while shaking his head. “I only told you guys that so Trevor would get off my back,” she explained as her hand flung behind her to show that there was no one on the bed. 

“So what is this? Is this some game to you?” Jack asked harshly.

“A game? What are you talking about, Jack?!” she shouted back towards you, stepping closer to him.

Quinn spun on his heel and instantly walked away from the pair. He shook his head as a huff of air left his lips. He jogged up the stairs towards his own room, leaving them alone. He wanted nothing to do with whatever was about to happen downstairs.

“Is this to get back to me?!” Jack shouted as he threw his arms to the side. He took a step closer to her.

“You? Seriously, Jack, not everything is about you!” she yelled towards him tossing her hands to the side.

“You can’t bring guys back here!” he let out loudly. 

“Why do you care!?” she shouted towards him, a scoff left his lips.

“Because–” he let out softly as he glanced towards the living room. 

“You know what, you– you don’t get to care if I sleep with other people! You have no reason to care about me!” she shouted towards him. “You’ve made that very clear,” she let out softer.

He swallowed harshly as he scanned her features. He hasn’t been this close to her in so long he almost forgot how breathtaking she was. She was holding a breath as she looked into his eyes. Her skin ran hot as she saw the way his eyes were looking over her frame. His gaze flickered down towards her lips as he clenched his jaw. Lifting his gaze, he looked into her eyes. 

“Very fucking clear,” she mumbled breathlessly.

“You can do whoever you want when you’re in California but keep it out of my house,” he stepped towards her, their faces were only a few inches apart. Her breath caught in her throat as she scanned his reddening features. She watched him take a sudden breath as he looked from one eye to the other. 

“What are you going to do? Keep me under lock and key?” she whispered harshly.

“If I have to,” he mumbled.

“You’re such a dick,” she muttered as she lowered her gaze towards his lips. “I saw you at the club dancing with that girl, you don’t get to act all high and mighty acting like you weren’t doing the same thing,” 

He clenched his jaw as he nodded slowly. “And what was I doing exactly?” he asked as he stepped towards her, forcing her to step back slightly. 

“Trying to make me jealous,” 

“Did it work?” he asked with a smirk threatening his lips. She felt her legs weaken beneath her. 

“No,” she muttered. “I don’t care about you anymore,”

“Then why isn’t the door in my face?” he asked breathlessly, leaning towards her. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart slamming against her chest. 

“I don’t know,” she mumbled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her, pressing his lips against his urgently. A moan fell from his lips as he pulled her closer to him. Their tongues entwined instantly as they stumbled back, their bodies pressed against one another. He quickly kicked his shoes off, not caring if they were obviously left outside of her door.

She was mad at him but she wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against hers. She wanted nothing more than to be this close to him again, she craved his touch. He bunched up the fabric of the skin tight dress covering her frame.

Jumping up, she wrapped her legs around his waist. Jack took a hold of her legs, to support her. Hissing in pain, he dropped his bad arm and let it hang beside him. She pulled her lips back, taking a hold of his cheeks. Bumping their noses together in the process.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I forgot,” she whispered breathlessly. A breathy chuckle fell from his lips as a small smile formed to his lips.

“It’s okay, It’s okay,” he mumbled as he slammed his lips against hers. With one hand he kept a hold of her thigh tightly against his frame. He carried her into her bedroom, using his other arm to swing the door shut. He pressed her back against the door, a breathy moan fell from her lips as she tilted her head back.

Jack desperately began to trail his lips down the center of her neck. Slowly, he circled his tongue as he continued to trail wet kisses down her skin. He twisted the lock on the door before he carried her towards the bed. She took a hold of his cheeks, desperately needing his lips on hers again. 

Slowly, she glided down her frame, his hand loosening his grip as their lips remained connected. Her hands glided along his chest as he reached behind her. He took a hold of the zipper and instantly started gliding it down her frame. Without hesitation, he began to pull it from her body. She helped him in the process as she kicked it away from them.

His fingertips glided along the skin of her lower back, his body overheating. Finally and desperately feeling her skin beneath his hands.

She began tugging at the shirt covering his frame. He pulled back, taking a hold of the end of his shirt and tossing it over his head. Their eyes connected again as Jack had a small smile on his lips. She stumbled back as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She took a deep breath.

He stood in front of her, taking a hold of his jeans. He pulled them from his frame. After a second of thought he tugged his boxers from his frame. His body tensed as the cold air hit his overheating skin. 

Pulling her lips back, her gaze scanned his frame. Her entire body erupting in goosebumps watching him drag his hand up and down his shaft, a muffled groan fell from his lips before he looked back up towards her. 

All of the blood in her body felt like it rushed to her head. Y/N sat down on the edge of the bed. He smirked as she slowly laid on her back. Jack climbed on top of her, connecting their lips desperately. He ran his hand along her cheek as he lowered his hand, taking a delicate hold of her neck. His thumb glided down the center of her neck as he pulled back. 

Her eyes flickered open as she was breathing heavily. Her hand glided through his hair, watching him look over her features. “Y/N ple–”

“Please don’t talk just…” she trailed off as she ran her thumb across the apple of his cheek. 

He stared down towards her hesitantly. Still, a thousand things on the tip of his tongue. He took a sudden breath as she pushed him back. He rolled onto his back as she instantly climbed onto his lap. Jack’s eyes widened as looked over her frame as if it was for the first time.

She pulled all of her hair over her shoulder as she leaned down and kissed him slowly. His hands ran along her back, toying with the clasp of her bra. She grinded against his lap, slowly teasingly. He thrusted up into her, desperate for some release. She smirked against his lips while she ran her hand along his chest. He unclasped it watching her tug it away from her frame. 

Time seemed to slow as their lips remained connected as his hands roamed her frame. Ther was no rush in their movements, savoring each kiss. Making up for lost time perhaps. Slowly she began to trail her lips down his neck. He tilted his head back, he bit his bottom lip as he held his breath. 

“Y/N,” he let out breathlessly. He squeezed her thigh as she continued to suck the skin beneath his ear. 

“Don’t talk,” she whispered into his ear as she ran her hand down his chest. He chuckled softly as he tilted his head to the side meeting her gaze. 

“Okay,” he mumbled as he tapped her leg, asking for her to lay down. 

“Your arm,” she mumbled while looking into his eyes.

“I’ve got skills, remember?” he mumbled while fighting off a grin. She rolled her eyes playfully as she climbed off of his lap and laid onto her back; the same time Jack rolled onto his side, pulling her against him. Their legs were entangled as their lips instantly connected.

He took a hold of her underwear, looping them in his finger as he slowly started gliding them down his frame. A breathy moan fell from her lips as she kicked them off of the bed. 

He reached down and instantly began to rub her clit in a slow teasing pace. Her hand gripped his arm. Instantly, she pulled back with a sudden gasp leaving his lips. He smirked towards her, watching her eyes roll to the back of her head. 

She was holding back a moan as she squinted her eyes shut. Slowly, he pushed his fingers inside of her, watching desire pool her features. Her hands took a hold of his cheeks, pulling him towards her. Their lips met in a sloppy cadence as she grinded against his fingers that were thrusting into her. 

Desire flooded her stomach as she ran her fingers through his hair, tugging the strands. “Jack,” she mumbled against his lips as her vision blurred. He hummed against her lips as he pulled his fingers away from her center, her body running cold for a second. 

She wrapped her leg around his waist as he instantly guided himself to her center. Looking back up, meeting her gaze. He was mesmerized by the way she was looking towards him. So desperate and craving him. She ran her hand towards the base of his neck.

Slowly, he thrusted into her, a low moan falling from his lips. He took a hold of her thigh as he continued to thrust into her slowly, feeling her adjust to his size. Their eyes remained connected as he continued the sensual pace. 

She leaned towards him, taking her lips in his. She moaned into his mouth as his hand gripped her thigh tightly. “Fuck,” she muttered against his lips. He could feel her clenching around him, pulling his climax faster. 

It has been far too long since either of them have felt this good. There’s been rebounds. Probably too many to count shared between them but none of them felt this right and this perfect. She couldn’t even remember ever reaching this close to a climax since the last time they were together.

“Oh my god,” she whined out. He missed hearing that, he missed knowing he was the one making her feel like that.

The way their breathing were in perfect short cadences as their lips tried to maintain the desperate connection. But her body was flooding with desire, as her vision was blurring. Every few seconds, his lips would press a sloppy kiss to her lower lip as he grunted.

His thrust started to speed up in pace as a whimper fell from her lips, he nodded, “Good girl–doin’ so good,” he whispered. She let out a moan as she tilted her head back. He pressed his lips to the center of her neck. Her hands ran along his upper back. More muffled moans fell from her lips as she gave all of her to him.

“I’m so–”

A sudden gasp left her lips as her entire body tensed, an overwhelming amount of pleasure coursed through her frame. She dragged her nails across his upper back, “Jack,” she moaned out.

With one more thrust, he reached his own climax, short breaths fell from his lips as he released into her. “Fuck,” he let out barely above a whisper. He continued to ride out his own orgasm as he watched her eyes flutter open. Her hands glided along his upper back to take a hold of his neck.

Their eyes connected as he watched her gaze soften. Leaning towards her, he pressed his lips against hers sloppy. He pulled out as they both pulled back, falling onto their backs. They both laid breathlessly as they stared towards the ceiling. 

They didn’t talk for several seconds as the reality of what they did set in. She felt her heart jump in her throat as she sat up, swinging her legs off of the bed.  

Jack switched his gaze towards her, his eyes scanned her bare back watching her breathe heavily. She pulled open the bottom drawer, she quickly pulled out a t-shirt and shorts. 

“You know how amazing I am?” Jack let out as he leaned back on his arms. His tone was questioning but he had a wide grin on his lips. 

A breathy laugh fell from her lips as she pulled the t-shirt over her frame. “What?” she asked, a smirk toying to her lips as she stood up to pull the shorts up. 

“I got you to admit that you were trying to make me jealous,” he offered teasingly. She spun around looking towards him. Her mouth fell open as she shook her head slightly. 

“I wasn’t, I didn’t…” she stammered as she trailed her gaze down his frame. Jack whipped the comforter over his body as she raised her eyes back up towards his face. 

“Oh, well, you did,” he said as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. 

“I didn’t,” she said as she climbed back onto the bed, pulling the comforter over her. Their eyes connected again.

“Weren’t your exact words you don’t get to act all high and mighty acting like you weren’t doing the same thing–” he trailed off as he watched the realization dawn on her face, her teasing smirk faded on her lips. She squinted her eyes slightly, “And then I asked you what I was doing and you said–”

“Trying to make me jealous,” she finished his sentences as she tilted her head to the side. 

“Exactly,” he whispered as he pointed his finger towards her subtly. She rolled her eyes playfully as she took a hold of his hand. He chuckled as their eyes connected again. She took a deep breath as she scanned his features. 

Swallowing harshly, she dropped his hand. “You should probably go,” she mumbled as she began to lay down on the bed to face away from him.

He furrowed his eyebrows harshly, “What just happened?” he asked as he looked down towards her. 

“This doesn’t change anything,” she mumbled. 

A scoff fell from his lips, “Doesn’t it? I mean seriously, Y/N,” he expressed as he rested his hand onto her arm, pulling her back to face him. Their eyes met as she clenched her jaw. “It has to change something,”

He reached his hand over toward her, taking a hold of her cheek. Leaning into his hand, she shut her eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this again,” she mumbled.

“Then let’s do something else,” he muttered as he ran his thumb across her hot skin. 

“Do what, Jack? If you mean–that, I don’t know if I can, I'm so tired,” she explained as a soft laugh left her lips.

“No, not that,” he chuckled as he leaned towards her, kissing her softly. “I mean let’s try being friends again,” he mumbled against her lips, “Exclusive friends,”

She pulled away, tilting her head to the side. She stared towards him suspiciously for a second, “We tried that, we didn’t talk for a year afterwards,” 

He giggled, “I mean, we work towards something serious,” he offered as he scanned her features again.

“Jack,” she wasn’t sure, she was still tipsy and not thinking straight.

“Think about it,” he mumbled before he leaned towards her, kissing her softly. She parted her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

“Jack,”

“Think about it,” he mumbled againsat her lips again, a small breathy laugh leaving her lips before she deepened the kiss again.

~~~

Cole and Trevor stood side by side, mugs in both of their hands. They were trying to see who Y/N brought him. Whoever the mystery guy was hadn’t left yet, sleeping in astronomically late. 

Well for their house’s standards. It was nine in the morning and usually the whole house would be awake, especially Y/N.

“She’s still in there, are you sure she didn’t kick him out and leave?” Cole whispered loudly as he leaned into Trevor.

“I wouldn’t be standing here if I was sure,” Trevor shot back in a hushed tone.

“Has she since–” he trailed off as he met Trevor’s gaze. 

“Yeah she’s had her rebounds,” Trevor mumbled, a soft chuckle leaving his lips, “It’s been a few months though,” he mumbled.

Cole cleared his throat before he brought the mug towards his lips. He took a long sip, “Is she okay? I feel like I should knock,” Cole whispered.

“If he was a creep then she would’ve told us,” Trevor mumbled before bringing his own mug towards his lips.

“She didn’t bring anyone home,” Quinn called out as he stood near the entrance to the hallway. Cole and Trevor both turned their eyes towards Quinn at the same time.

“What?” they whispered loudly.

“She only told you that because you were getting on her about ‘moving on’,” Quinn said with air quotes. 

“Well then who’s shoes are those?” he asked, pointing down towards the messily laid out shoes.

“Who’s–what?” Quinn let out as he took fast steps towards them. 

Suddenly, her door pulled open and a shirtless Jack was holding the door open. A gasp left all three of their lips. Quinn raised his hand up and held his hand against his chest. 

“Their mine,” Jack said before clearing his throat. “‘Scuse me,” he said as he stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Cole and Trevor pulled away from one another. They shared awkward glances as they watched Jack walk towards his bedroom, stepping inside. 

They all tried to form sentences but the shock of seeing Jack inside of her room was enough to keep them all frozen with confusion. “He left his shoes,” Cole muttered as he looked down towards them still by the door. 

Suddenly, her door was pushed open, her eyes widened to see the three boys standing outside of her door. “Creepy, all of you,” she mumbled as she pointed an accusatory finger to each of them. “Excuse me,” she muttered as she squeezed past them carrying her clothes. 

“We thought you had a stranger in there! We wanted to be sure you were alive!” Cole defended, “It’s not creepy! It’s caring!”

“God, I should’ve gone to the gym with Lukey,” Quinn said, shaking his head as he walked back into the living room. Cole and Trevor were muttering to one another in the center of the hallway. “Leave them alone,” Quinn called out as he walked towards the kitchen. 

“But–”

“Leave them alone! They’ll tell us when they’re ready!” Quinn called out. 

“They practically already did!” Cole protested.

“Leave them alone!” Quinn scolded them again. The pair let out defeated breaths as they stumbled out of the hallway.

For the next hour, the three of them were talking, more like gossiping about Jack and Y/N. Trying to find puzzle pieces from last summer and the slim information of the last twenty hours. Trevor was trying to convince Quinn and Cole that it was actually happening since the moment they both set foot into the house. 

Y/N sat at her vanity, running her fingers through her wet hair. She could hear the faint sounds of all of them arguing over her and Jack through the walls. Her face was covered in moisture as she was doing her post-clubbing routine. It was an everything shower that rejuvenated herself from the events of the night before.

There was a soft knock on her door as her body straightened. “Come in,” she mumbled. She spun her head around to see Jack walk into her room. His hair was dripping wet as his frame was covered with tight jeans and t-shirt. “Hey,” she let out quietly, a small smile formed on her lips.

He leaned against the door, pressing his back against it as. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I got scared,” he muttered. She stood up from the vanity seat as she kept her distance from him.

He swallowed harshly as he dropped his gaze towards the floor, “When you asked for a reason, I didn’t know how to tell you I was falling in love with you,”

“Jack,” she mumbled.

“I was falling in love with you and all I could see was you running away with one of my best friends,” 

“I wasn’t–”

“I know, but I was so convinced that you were running far away from me,” he let out softly as he watched her walk towards him. “But I realized last night that I was pushing you away,” he mumbled as he scanned her features. She was still making her way towards him slowly, he was not aware of how close she was getting to him.

“I get jealous so easily but I think it’s because you were never really mine,” he explained further as he dropped his hands to the side. She nodded as she walked closer to him, “I got a taste of it last summer and I let you go. I shouldn’t have let you go. I’m sorry,” he let out, tossing his arms to the side.

“Jack,” she mumbled as she was directly in front of him. He swallowed harshly as he scanned her features. His breathing quickened as he watched her lips curl upward slightly. 

“Did you say you were falling in love with me?” she let out barely above a whisper. He hummed as his gaze lowered towards her lips. “Fucking finally,” she said as she leaped towards him, careful of his shoulder as she pressed her lips against his urgently.

“I’ve never stopped loving you,” she mumbled against his lips.

[sashiavi]

no thoughts head empty just riding kaveh's face 😔😔😔 he'd definitely whimper and moan, acting like it's his last meal<3 thrusting his hips in the air to try and get some sort of relief, and ends up cumming untouched<3<3 oh the things I'd do to him

(I'm supposed to be productive rn)

(but kaveh<3<3<3)

Kaveh x Reader - Riding Kaveh's Face Haikaveh x Reader Mentioned

Some Kaveh food ♡

I'm slowly working through a few requests and my own little projects hehe~ thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

Ilysm Kai Ty for sneaking into my ask box hehe~ 💕

Warnings : 18+ Smut | afab reader | face sitting/riding | jealous Kaveh | spit | squirting | not beta read | ʷᶜ ¹.⁷ᵏ

“Kaveh.. I don't want to hurt you..” Was the first thing that tumbled from your pretty lips, a kiss of nervousness lingering on the edge of your words. The words he should have seen coming, like an overused opening line to a spicy scene in one of his romance novels, written by some lazy author.. Maybe to you, your concerns were valid, more than reasonable, even, it’s not everyday that he has you on him like this. Any ounce of rationality quickly scatters from him when Kaveh meets your eyes. 

Nervous face looking down at him between your legs, eyes already a little bleary, lips tucked into a nervous pout. What a sight. Pretty tits drooping with gravity, framing your abdomen and tummy so well. One hand planted on his chest, the other being nervously nibbled at, tips of your fingers, lips biting into your nails. Kaveh huffs, a puff of a sigh tickling your skin. He had you kneeling on your knees, soft squishable thighs grazing against his ears, skin warm on his cheeks, sucking the metallic cool from the dangling jewelry he always adorned. His hands snake over the back of your thighs squeezing, groping, making an attempt to pull you down.

“K-Kaveh-!” Your squeals make his brain spark. The subtle fight and pull of your hips, his own hands trying to gently combat your squirms, all but makes him more eager- desperate even, for you, for your smell, your taste, to hear those soft whimpers he knows will spill from your lips. Archons, he wants to stuff his face full, dig his nose into your little clit, tongue your pussy with kisses and licks. 

“S’ okay- Can take it, honest..” He cranes his neck, chin tilting up, lips managing a soft, wet kiss against your mound, his breath hot against the sensitive skin. 

“We've never..” You trail off, looking anywhere but him. It was true, they hadn't ever done something like this, not together at least, but the memory- memories even, of your pretty pussy being tongue fucked by Alhaitham all those times before. Riding on his face, squealing, whimpering, crying. Tugging at the man's silky grey hair, pleading with him, all while knowing he wouldn't stop, grip too tight on your thighs and ass. Gods, Alhaitham, ever the dominant, putting both of you in your places, fucking you too stupid to even lay a finger on one another- one always twitching and out of commission for the rest of the night while he tortured the other with utmost pleasure.

Kaveh's cock flexes in his pants, tip rubbing against the taught material, nearly cracking out his own whimper. This was one of those rare chances, he had to get his own hands on you.

“You ride 'Haitham's face..” Kaveh can't help but whine, his lips visibly pout, head turning, pointed nose nuzzling into the soft fat of your thigh. He resists the urge to kiss, to sink his teeth in, nibble, and leave his own marks on your skin. Gods, he wants you to use him, ride his tongue and choke him with your pussy.

“H-He..” Your voice cracks, laced in something sinful, nervous from heat and embarrassment already taking over your body. The pause is tense, ringing in Kaveh's ears. "He can.. handle it, he's-" Kaveh cuts you off.

“Why can't I handle it? Wanna make you feel good..” He tries again, breathing warm on your core, aiming kisses on your inner thighs, the subtle swell of your tummy and that pretty patch of skin that leads down to your pussy. Just a little lick, a little kiss and he's sure you'd agree.

“He's just.. hnn.. Stronger than you- Ahn~!” Kaveh stops you again, forcing a startled moan from your lips with a harsh nip to your sensitive inner thigh, followed with a slicing glare from his sharp, crimson eyes. He had no right to be jealous- you were his as much as Ahaitham was, the same for the latter and yourself (and every other way, betrothed to each other equally) and yet, that achy feeling sears down his throat. Alhaitham with his high praise, thick biceps and stupid pretty face- Kaveh was pretty too! Stronger? Kaveh can show you stronger. Show you how he can make you feel good. Show you he can take on and bully your pretty pussy with his tongue. Show you he can take all of you. 

It starts with a fat lick of his tongue, a thick stripe up your cunt, right over that puffy untouched clit of yours. His chin tilted up to reach you, breath already hot and laboured, fanning over your core, he nearly growls when your hips make an attempt to snip away from him. He reels you in, grip on your hips a little firmer, landing wet hot smooches and kisses on all your most sensitive bits. That look on your face makes his cock twitch, embarrassed, guilty even, chin wobbling with the shaky breath you manage.

“Ahn~ K-Kaveh m’ sorry-” Apologies be damned, you'd started something, a fire in his gut to prove himself, to lap at you like a dog in heat. Gods, his neck already stung, ached with the strain of chasing you, chasing that pretty, drooly cunt- His fingers tighten, squishing the fat of your thighs under them. He feels your muscles tense and ripple, trying their best to keep you upright against his pull. Gods, he wanted you, wanted more, wanted you to sit, hump at his tongue, let him suckle and spit and make a mess.

“Ka-veh-” You start, heat and arousal dripping from your voice, winded and breathless. You squirm again, fingers threading through his hair, gently tugging him back down to the cushioned pillow below. “Haitham’ will be home soon, we- Ah~ Kavehhh!” You're cut off with a squeal. Knocked hard under your knees by a pair of hands, forced to drop down on Kaveh's face. His eyes roll, arms snaking around your ass and lower back, pinning you to himself with a rough hug. No escape now, you were all his. His gorgeous girl and her pretty drooly cunt.

Archons.. Fuck this was what he needed, what he craved. Squishy pussy smushed up on his lips, his pointed nose digging into your tender clit, tongue already fucking into the soft squeeze of your hole. He forces your hips to rock, guiding them with his hands, fingers squished into the fat of your ass and thighs. Gods, he wanted to cry, sob into your pussy and praise it over and over.

He can't help but crane his own hips, feeling the hot burning tension of his pants, the seam and fly digging into his weeping cock. He moans himself, tongue flicking and fluttering against your cunt, forcing his voice to stutter and staccato. You were no better off, soft mewls and whimpers tumbling from your lips when he mouths hot kisses and hard suckles on your clit, warm and wet and sticky. 

The fingers in his hair tighten, tugging on the strands oh so deliciously, coaxing him on and on. To keep tongue fucking your cunt, grinding his nose on your clit, squishing your soft thighs with his fingernails. The weight of you felt right on his face, grounding and stern, forcing him into submission - Even if unintentional.

“Kaveh~ KavehKaveh..” you repeat his name like a mantra, voice raising up and up in octave, choked up and wobbly. Your fingers squeeze again, hips wriggling, thighs twitching with a strain. Your breathing elevates, moans oh so breathy. He could tell you were close, little hole squeezing up on his tongue, thighs squishing his head, pretty voice squealing.

“Cummin- cumming, cummingcumminggg~” Archons you were so cute. Thighs flexing, squishing his face as you let go, selfishly riding his face, grinding your wet cunt all over his tongue. Your pussy pulses with your release, forcing another hearty moan out of Kaveh, kissing and lapping at you to guide you through. 

Gods he needed more.

Kaveh gives you no time to cool down, two long, pretty fingers plunging into your quivering hole, poking against the spongey little spot inside of you. You cry, telling him to slow down, “s’ too much!” And yet you keen into him, now gripping the headboard for dear life, moaning into your arms. Kaveh wraps his lips against your sensitive clit, suckling, lapping, spitting all over, taking the little bud in and abusing it. Kaveh rocks his own hips, finding a soft friction against the seam of his trousers, rubbing against his leaky cock head just enough. 

Gods, he was in heaven. His girl, his pretty girl and her cute cunt, humping his face and fucking back on his fingers, taking and taking all he had to give. Fuck it was wet, so gushy and sticky, soft, yummy squelches from your twitchy hole, wet smooches and sucks from his lips. His eyes roll under his eyelids, peeking up to see that face of yours, eyes bleary, lips parted with huffed breaths. He fucks his fingers in faster, harder, nearly biting into your clit with his teeth to see all those gorgeous reactions of yours.

“Ka.. Kaveh- can't.. gonna-! Gotta stop or- s’ too much! Anh~ ahh ah~!” You babble and cry, he nearly joins you, breathing laboured on your cunt, hips snapping up into nothing, following that brutal pace he had fucking into your cunt. That's it, that's it, thaaats it. Let him treat you, use him, use his face, fuck and hump on him, let him choke and squirm.

“Kaveh!” Is all the warning he gets from you before you gush - cumming hard with a choked sob, squirting in his mouth, down his chin, making a hot sticky mess all on his face. He humps the air, creaming hard in his pants, nearly untouched, hot ropes being wasted in his trousers. He blubbers, an attempt at praise being muffled away by the sweet rocking of your hips, riding out your orgasm on his tongue. Kaveh feels the tight squeeze of your cunt on his fingers, he gently presses into your cunt, slowly coaxing you down, soft and tender. He kisses your thighs tenderly, peppering his lips all around your lower half, palms rubbing over your bare skin.

You manage to lift yourself off of him a smidge, face beat red, looking anywhere but him. Kaveh can't help but stare, a goofy grin slowly edging itself on his face, eyes full, love hearts dancing in his vision. 

“Having fun without me?” A voice calls. Kaveh can just imagine the stern raise of an eyebrow, the annoyed arms crossed over a chest. You squeak, and Kaveh sighs blissfully. 

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Hi there >v> you k n o w I have to throw Haitham in I can't not it's illegal - I know cause I wrote the law.

I hope you enjoyedddd~ I haven't written for Kaveh in a while </3 I missed my boy

Thank You For Reading ♡

[vanesycho]

• bf!minho x gf!reader x minho's friend!jisung | m.list

warning | smut, p in v, fingering, squirt

word count | 1,2k

a/n | this could be shit, I haven't written in a long time, I needed to get my head together

anyways enjoy reading！

“Yeah, of course you can come. Jisung? Oh I don’t think it’ll be a problem for him.” Minho’s eyes drifted to Jisung, who was on the computer while he was talking to you on the phone, knew very well that he was listening to him. “I love you too, baby, see you later.” After he hung up, he stood up and walked towards him, approached him from behind and spoke close to his ear. “Y/n will be here soon.” Jisung jumped at the sudden chill in his neck and turned his head to him. “Ah..Should I leave you alone?” he prayed for him to say yes. Hearing you fucking from a room while he couldn’t resist his feelings for you was getting on his nerves.

Minho knew exactly how he felt about you. He would have to be an idiot not to know, Jisung was a very obvious person and could never keep a secret. Was he angry tho? Strangely, no. The thought of you with him excited him in a vague way. He didn’t hesitate to share you with Jisung, so he was the one who specifically asked you to come today. You had already set off, knowing everything.

The corners of Minho’s lips curled up. “No, no, don’t go anywhere. Having you here will make everything more fun.” The sentence he said caused Jisung’s eyebrows to furrow. While he thought about the meaning of the sentence he said, Minho left him alone with question marks in his head.

You turned your head to the side and looked at your boyfriend, who was sitting sprawled out on the chair. The slight smirk on his face and the way his eyes roamed all over both of your bodies as he watched the two of you. “Fuck, Y/n.” Jisung let out a groan, you whimpered as his cock slowly slid inside you. He had been dreaming of this for so long that he wanted to take his time, he didn’t even care about your boyfriend watching you from a corner of the room anymore.

Minho stood up, walked towards the bed, and leaned into Jisung’s neck while not breaking eye contact with you. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” His breath was burning his neck, he couldn’t speak, he whimpered as he thrust hard into you again and nodded. Seeing how needy he was, Minho let out a small chuckle. “How cute. You’ve been dreaming about this pussy for a long time, haven’t you? How good she would feel, how tight her walls would be around your cock, how your name would flow from her lips…”

Every sentence of his would make Jisung cum faster, he put his hand on the side of your head and took a deep breath before looking at you, the way you looked so beautiful under him...He wasn’t sure he could ever get that image out of his head. “You better faster now. I’m not done with you yet.” He glanced at Minho who had sat back down on the chair and did as he was told. While it was the two of you in bed and he was the one fucking you, it was the one in the corner of the room who was actually dominating.

His entire cock started to enter you quickly, you moaned his name, unable to hold back your moans, each hard thrust bringing you closer to your orgasm and Minho knew it. He knew you like the back of his hand. The hard strokes inside your pussy didn't stop you after a while, you cum around his cock. Jisung continued his thrusts a little longer and then pulled back, jerking himself off with his hand and soon coming between your legs.

“Now...” Jisung turned to him, out of breath. Minho spoke as he stood up again and walked towards the two of you. “Tell me Jisung, have you ever made a girl squirt?” He placed one hand on the bed and leaned over you, the other hand starting to caress your cheek. “I- no…” he hadn’t even fucking with a girl in a long time. Minho turned his head to him. “Do you want to try?” his eyes widened in momentary surprise, making Minho laugh, fingers moved towards your pussy. Jisung watching every move. Minho positioned two fingers at your hole and watched them slowly slide inside you. Then he turned back to Jisung and watched how he swallowed hard. “It’s not that hard, here, I’ll guide you.” He looked up at him "I'm- I'm not sure hyung, just-"

"I said do it. Are you disobeying me? I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend, weren't you imagining this?" He held his chin tightly, getting closer to him, Jisung tried to pull away but couldn't because of his gaze, he just nodded "Good boy." He turned his attention to you and gave you a small smile, leaving a small kiss on your lips. "Now, put your fingers inside her and start fingering like normal." He didn't hesitate, two fingers sliding into your still wet pussy, the feeling of your tight walls making him let out a small moan. Curled his fingers inside you as he moved in and out of you at a normal pace, watching how your breathing became irregular and your legs parted for him "Come on, don't be so delicate with her. You won't hurt her, sure she came easily under the rougher stuff." The voice in his ear was making things harder, his fingers started to speed up, the sound of your wetness and moans filled the four walls. "Good. Now put your other hand on her lower belly and press lightly." He didn't hesitate again.

Jisung's hand went to your lower belly and gently pressed you down onto the bed, preventing you from moving your hips, while Minho's thumb started to play with your clit.

A whimper left your mouth, this time your legs started to move but Minho held one of your legs tightly. "Stay still." His finger stroking your clit sped up, the pleasure you were getting from both sides was driving you crazy. The two fingers were fucking your pussy hard, relentlessly. The strange feeling enveloped you as your orgasm approached, you knew there was more. The sheer pleasure was already making your eyes water, Minho let out a small chuckle at the sight. "Look at her. Are you that needy, baby? Does Jisung's fingers feel good?" you couldn't speak, you just nodded in agreement. "Then let him know."

Your gaze turned to him, seeing your eyes full of tears, made him curse under his breath, you let out another moan as his finger fucked your pleasure spot. “Jisung- fuck..You feel so good..Please, I-” you couldn’t finish your sentence, the stroke on your clit sped up and the weird feeling in your stomach increased. It didn’t even cross their minds to slow down when they both knew you were close. A few more thrust to your pleasure spot and with a loud moan you came, no you literally squirted. Your eyes were closed in exhaustion as the two stared at the mess you had made, Jisung slowly pulled his fingers out of you, moan slightly as the sight made his cock harden again. Minho looked at Jisung who was still insatiable, one last whisper in his ear was enough to make the night last longer for you. “Just so you know, Y/n is so fucking good with her mouth.”

[lanabuckybarnes]

Might have re-watched Captain America: Winter Soldier again 🫣....and it's just something about the way he says "You're my misson." All I know is this gives off HUGE smutty vibes. I love your written so I just knew I had to ask you!

Ohh nonnie the way he growls it as well (panties soaked)

18+ MINORS DNI, DUB/NON CON THEMES AHEAD

His metal hand pressed against your throat, you should’ve passed out ages ago but he wasn’t squeezing enough to hurt. He was keeping you in place.

You don’t know how you ended up on Hydra’s watchlist. You were a regular person, a security expert who woke up at 6am every morning, showered and got ready for the long hours at the office.

Your boss had some new clientele. They were in the market for top-notch security and they’d chosen the company you worked for, and your boss had chosen you to be part of the team. You learned quickly that they were a very secretive group, you only ever met the messengers and even then they blanked every other word you spoke besides a polite hello.

It was one boring day, completely uneventful, the usual in your office. You were working on the can’t security side of the project when your screen went black, then a logo appeared—an octopus? Weird.

“Hey Jim come look at this” you notified your cubicle neighbour who peaked over the barrier. Just as he did mountains of files filtered onto your screen, many of them in Russian it looked like but one thing was for certain. You definitely shouldn’t have seen it.

That night after packing up and heading downstairs you noticed Jim still at the revolving doors.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked, he looked pale, if you were in an old house you were sure you would’ve mistook him for a ghost.

“T-the—“ he cleared his throat before his brown eyes bore into yours. They looked dead, it shook you to your core. “The logo, on your computer…I searched it up and…”

Your jaw dropped to the floor when you digested the content on his phone. Hydra. Your new clients were Hydra and you’d accidentally seen all their files.

—

You jumped from your dreamless sleep at the sound of your landline. Checking your clock lets you know it was well past midnight, who on earth would be calling at this time?

“H-hello?” You rasped, eyes shutting by the second.

The frantic voice spoke your name. It was Jim and by his tone, he was panicking.

“Jim? Jim, are you alright?” You pressed, holding the phone closer to your ear.

“T-they’re here, listen to me whatever you do, do not open your door. Find a weapon and hide…oh god…Do not op—“ BANG!!

You let out a shriek at the sound, Jim’s side turning eerily quiet. Then your door knocked.

Once.

Twice.

Your door was gone before it could be knocked for a third time. Kicked so hard it hit the opposite wall, you screamed, dropping the phone from your ear and falling to the ground like you were made of jelly.

Tears flowed freely down your face as the huge body stalked forth, his arm glistening under the dim light you kept on at all times. A mask sat upon his face obscuring his emotions from you but you were certain he was enjoying the torture he was putting you through.

His heavy boots stopped just in front of your knees, his metal hand grasped at your throat squeezing until your vision spotted, until you garbled pleas up at him. Only then did he pull you up, your toes pointing to reach the floor, you were trying desperately to relieve some of the pressure around your throat.

You should’ve died a long time ago, his brain screamed at him to fulfil his mission, put a bullet in your skull and be done. But the more he looked at you the more he wanted.

The spaghetti straps of your nightgown had slipped down off your shoulders, catching in the crooks of your elbows but not before giving him a delicious tease of your bust.

He wanted more.

He raised his flesh hand, hooking a long thick index finger into the material before ripping it from your body in one fell swoop. You yelled and struggled against his grasp but a harsh squeeze of your trachea had any fight dying quickly.

He let his knuckles trace the swell of your tits, pinching a nipple in between his fingers, smirking darkly under the mask as you squirmed.

You look cute all scared of him; wide-eyed and chest heaving, your tummy sucking in to get away from his hand as it trailed down to your cotton panties.

A dark chuckle escaped him as he felt along your gusset.

“You’re wet”

You shook your head, eyes darting anywhere but him, your thighs squeezing his hand and keeping it pressed firmly against your mound.

He ripped the panties from your body as well, running two fingers through your folds and bringing them up to your face. Absolutely soaked.

“Wet” he spoke matter-of-factly before pushing his hand back down there; fingers plucking your hard little clit effortlessly until you were crying out.

“W-why are you doing this” you moaned, head hitting off the wall with a bang as you sucked in air greedily.

“You’re my mission” he growled back, fingers stretching you out until your brain turned to mush.

He coaxed four orgasms out of you that night. His mask, thrown to the floor so he could kiss you sloppily before leaving.

He returned night after night, Hydra sending him to complete his task but he’d do the same again, play with you, eat you out until you were a writhing mess—all dumb and thinking of nothing but him.

You were his mission. For days, months, years. You were his.

—

I pulled this outta my ass but I hope it was up to your standard nonnie 🤭🤭

Also thank you so much, it’s nice to know some people enjoy reading the poo I write.

Likes, Reblogs and Asks are always appreciated ❤️❤️

[junkpuppet225]

note: Something that came to me just now. No real plot. Maybe a part 2 if I can figure out another spot they get stuck in. DarylXFem!Reader, language, forced proximity, comfort, anxiety, fluffy. Written quick and barely proof read. Enjoy!

While on a run a herd forces you and Daryl inside a small supply closet.

x

Daryl never considered himself to be claustrophobic, not devastatingly so like Carol - he doesn’t particularly enjoy being trapped indoors or behind walls, preferring the openness of the great outdoors - the damp air clinging to the trees deep in the forest just as the sun comes up.

The thought gives him a rare moment of peace as his eyes fall to you, knelt behind a counter rummaging through picked over drawers. He likes going on runs with you because you’re quick and quiet, a no nonsense kind of gal. You’re also so fucking beautiful it makes his chest ache every time your eyes meet. Just like now as you lift your eyes to his and jump to your feet - a sudden heard of walkers pouring into the small independent pharmacy behind him, brining on a slew of grumbled profanity. They’ve caught you both off guard piling into the small building quickly as you pull Daryl into an even smaller supply closet and close the door behind you. He never considered himself claustrophobic but it suddenly feels like he’s suffocating and it has nothing to do with the tight space.

“S-sorry.” You whisper - your chests touching, standing so close he can feel your quick nervous breaths against his face. “H-how many did ya see?”

Before you can answer something angry slams against the door at your back bringing you into Daryl’s chest again with a choked yelp. “I’m sorry.” You repeat, placing a gentle palm to his chest as his entire body goes rigid. “H-how many?” You can feel his words vibrating against your hand as you let it fall to your side and take in a needed breath. “Maybe ten?”

Daryl grunts his response as a walker bangs against the door again, a wave of fear rolling through you as you turn to face the threat - idly sinking your back into Daryl’s chest. “We’ll be alright. Jus’ gotta wait it out.” His voice is so sure, almost soothing as he mutters the words against your ear, watching a shiver run through you as goosebumps prickle your smooth skin. “O-okay.”

An angry bang on the thin door sends you further back, taking the air from him lungs as you whisper another quiet sorry. Daryl gathers your hair to one side to rid it from his face, calloused fingers brushing against the nape of your neck - straightening your back as he clears his throat. Whatever’s on the other side of the supply closets door only grows angrier - snarling and slapping at the wood - it makes your heart hammer in your chest as you squirm against the man behind you.

“Stop squirmin’.” Daryl growls low in his throat, sending another shiver through you as you nod but refuse to apologize again. Behind you the archer is fighting for his life, holding his breath to keep from inhaling your scent - sweet but also warm and comforting like vanilla and honeysuckle warming in the sun. It’s doing things to his body that are out of his control. Just as your ass brushes against his now semi hard erection he grasps your hip and turns you so you’re facing each other but he’s closer to the door now, shielding you from whatever may burst through. “We’re gonna be alright.” He mutters, watching your doe eyes blink slowly as you try to convince yourself. “Maybe we should have fought our way out. I… I shouldn’t have trapped us in here.”

Daryl lifts his hand to your face, brushing his rough fingers along your jaw before sinking them into your hair. It’s an uncharacteristic gesture that’s oddly comforting to you both. “We’re gonna be alright.” He repeats, searching your eyes as his thumb brushes your cheek and your heavy breathing begins to slow.

You’ve known Daryl since the quarry, finding comfort in his brooding silence - you like going on runs with him because you can get in and get it done without the mind numbing chit chat. He doesn’t push or pry for your life story and appreciates that you do the same. You can both coexist in this fucked up world without any of the drama. Even if you’ve memorized every small detail he’s shared with you about his life before this as well as every dark fleck of navy that swims in his ocean eyes. You could describe them in perfect detail standing here in the darkness of this supply closet but that’s something you’ll take to the grave with you. Daryl doesn’t strike you as a man who wants to be lust after.

At least he didn’t, until this very moment - trapped in this small space with you - his familiar eyes hooded and stealing glances at your mouth. Another loud crash in the pharmacy brings a soft whimper from your throat as you idly grip the material of his shirt near his hip and he clears his throat again, unable to drop his hand as he runs the pad of his thumb over your parted lips. You marvel at him as he stands perfectly still while your body jerks with every loud bang then he’s pulling you closer to his chest to shield you from the noise. “…won’t let anythin’ happen to ya.”

You nod again forcing a smile that lights up the darkness and brings another low grumble from his throat. “I won’t let anything happen to you either.” You assure him, your smile turning playful as he rewards you with one of his own. You’re half his size and although you’re quick on your feet you know which one of you is the muscle in this situation.

Daryl allows himself a quick breath, filling his soul with flowery vanilla as you lift your eyes to his and his fingers tighten in your hair. He’s still focused on your lips, silently imagining feeling them against his as the door jerks open and light floods the small space causing you to pull him closer as you bury your face in the bend of his neck. “Come on! We gotta move move move move!” Abraham’s loud demanding voice and strong hands jerk you from Daryl’s embrace as he follows you out into the destroyed pharmacy and lifts his bow, covering your group as Glenn ushers you through the broken glass.

The four of you take off running as the walkers shuffle through the broken glass, your heart dropping when Daryl doesn’t follow. “Wait. We have to wait for him.”

“Daryl can handle himself little bit. We gotta fuckin’ move.”

Abraham’s grip on your arm is too tight to jerk it free as you stumble down the dirt path, relief whooshing from your lungs when Daryl finally emerges through the glass and meets your panicked eyes. The next few moments go by in a blur as the dead shuffle after you.

“I got ‘er.”

Daryl’s deep voice fills your head as he palms your hip and glares at Abraham who drops your arm like its burnt him. “Heard, keep up.” The larger than life red head instructs loudly as he takes off with his longer stride. Daryl presses his rough palm against your back protectively as you move into the tree line to escape the herd of walkers on your heels.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Novel Movements

Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Eddie Munson | Word Count: 2684 | Rating: T | CW: Medical Emergency (Not Steddie), Language | POV: Eddie | Tags: Gym AU, Modern AU, One-Sided Enemies to Lovers, Misconceived Notions, Platonic Stobin, Steve's Flirting, But Eddie Doesn't Know That, Oblivious Eddie Munson

"Eddie Munson."

His name is said with such sarcasm that Eddie turns his head to look.

Of course.

Just what he needed today.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie mimics in the same mocking tone. He doesn't know very many names in this place, but Steve Harrington has made sure Eddie knew his, even if it was totally against Eddie's will.

Now, Steve's standing there, grinning at him.

He's not going to put up with him. Not today. 

Eddie hates this dude more than anyone else at the gym. And there are lots of gym bros here to choose to loathe. He honestly barely knows him. But Steve Harrington is always prancing around in his little shorts, with his hair stretching towards the sky, like he's not preparing to teach a workout. Eddie isn't even sure what class he teaches. All Eddie knows is that he never seems to work up a sweat during them, as far as he's ever seen.

If he's not standing around taunting Eddie, he's leaning over the front desk, harassing Robin. She's a lesbian, Eddie is sure of it, and if Steve Harrington can't see that and know to leave her alone, he needs his eyes checked. He's always just a step too close to her, and about two steps too close to Eddie.

It's frustrating, infuriating, and Eddie hates him.

He might not sign a second contract with this place. He was asked, as a favor, to take over some classes short-term, and he's enjoyed the extra cash. But it clearly comes with a cost. 

He's gonna kill Gareth for assuring him this was a cool place to work. It's not cool. Well, it's cool. Except for Steve Harrington.

There were more than enough Steve Harringtons in his high school that he doesn't need to work alongside any more of them now.

Eddie looks away, and watches as his own kickboxing students filter in. When he was younger he needed an outlet for his teenage rage, Wayne signed him up for a kickboxing class at the local gym. At first, he hated the idea. Exercise? A sport? No fucking thanks. But he gave it a try. For Wayne. 

It was just him and some weird older dude that really preferred karate in that first class, but Eddie quickly learned to love it. The release. The pounding of his heart. How the stress would seemingly just melt away, one kick, one elbow, at a time. How the resistance, heavy and thick, would ground him. 

It was a good idea. But Wayne's ideas usually are, Eddie damn well knows that. 

And now, years later, he's the one teaching the classes to help others maybe find their love of it, too. Eddie's no sports guy. Not at all. Kickboxing is his main form of exercise. Sure, he'll use the rest of the gym every so often, since it's a perk of working here, but overall, this is his only thing. 

Nothing else has ever appealed to him in this same way. 

Steve saunters down the catwalk, the sun reflecting through the huge pane glass windows, illuminating him as he's bouncing with every step. The motherfucker always gives off main character energy, and that's true today as he glows while Eddie watches him go.

He'd much rather see him going, then coming, that's for fucking sure. He's too goddamn chipper.  

Eddie's already soaked, hair clinging to his neck, so he just as well run for a bit. It's not his favorite thing, not by a long shot, but it's necessary evil sometimes. 

The wall of treadmills is blissfully empty, and he picks one, and gets to work. Feet hitting, over and over, as he counts down the time he needs to spend on this thing. He doesn't enjoy it, but he'll do it. Occasionally.

Then he catches movement beside him.

Jesus H. Christ. 

The place is a ghost town and Steve Harrington still feels the need to set up camp right next to him. 

Eddie ignores him. Pretends he doesn't even realize he's got unwanted company, and pounds along the belt. Eddie can see him in the mirror though, unfortunately, and Steve smiles. He looks graceful while running, of course he does, especially compared to Eddie's heavy stride. 

When Eddie's cooldown begins, Eddie's grateful. He's ready to hit the showers and get the hell out of here.

Steve's still running, like it's easy as can be, even after Eddie's showered and dressed, bag slung over his shoulder. 

He's gotta get home. Tomorrow is his early class day. He's not a morning person, but he conceded to having at least one class a week before nine.

Eddie rolls in, coffee cup in hand. He hears the commotion, the frantic buzz of something is happening echoing through the open gym, bouncing down the catwalk, from room to room, like it's seeking help it just can't quite find.

"Okay, everybody, give me a second. Get a drink, stretch, I'll be back and we'll get started then," Eddie says, telling his class. They are all huddled in groups discussing what might be going on. 

He jogs down the catwalk, then peeks into every class on the other side of the split structure as he passes by, looking for the right one. Most of them are empty. When he turns the corner, he sees a crowd gathered at the end of the hall, and jogs that way. Someone's on the phone with 911, thankfully, because inside Steve Harrington is performing CPR on an older man, while everybody is just standing around watching. 

Eddie ushers them away from the door, and then starts gathering up the rest of the class Steve was teaching. A room filled with senior citizens, all in their matching sweatsuits and white New Balance shoes. Standing around, looking lost.

He's not sure where to move them. He could just send them home, but thinks they need time to unwind, process what they've witnessed, and maybe that's better done here than off somewhere else, possibly alone. He sees Gareth down the hall, and snaps his fingers, waving him over, getting Gareth to take all of the now shaken students to his classroom. No, they probably aren't gonna join in on his cardio drumming class, though Eddie knows he's offered one for seniors in the past.

Then Eddie runs back in, and it's just Steve Harrington, working his ass off on this poor guy.

Eddie counts for him, like he's been trained. 1, 2, 3, over and over and Steve follows the beat of Eddie's cadence until he looks worn out.

He's sweating now. Bangs clinging damp and limp to his forehead, and Eddie hates it. It looks unnatural.

"We'll switch, in 3, 2, 1," Eddie says, and Steve lifts his hands and Eddie takes over. 

"I got…I started, fast. I think, I think, maybe," Steve breathes out in short bursts, clearly exhausted. Out of breath and shaken.

Then, Steve counts for him, while Eddie listens for sirens.

It doesn't take long before he hears them, screaming up the road, and they switch off again as Eddie runs to the main stairs to guide them in. 

The professionals take over, and Eddie stands next to Steve, watching as they shock the guy back into a normal rhythm. Maybe they did it. Maybe Steve did it. Time is the most important thing, and Steve started right away. There's a chance.

Steve gave him a chance.

Hopefully, the guy will be okay.

Hopefully, Steve will be okay.

After they wheel him out, Steve looks around, "My class."

"They're fine. Gareth's got 'em. Probably turning them into the next Ringo's as we speak."

Steve cracks a grin, but it's small, and not all there.

"C'mon," Eddie says, "you can watch me teach my beginner class, if you want, and then we'll go get something to eat. You look like you need it."

After checking in with his class first, Steve agrees, and that's how Steve Harrington, enemy number one, ends up sitting on a fitness ball, watching Eddie prepare to teach his kickboxing for beginners class.

There's an empty bag, and Steve nods towards it when Eddie circles past, "Can I?"

Eddie grins, "You want to?"

Steve nods, and Eddie nods back, helping him get set up. 

He's a natural, Eddie thinks, as he helps him make small adjustments, and then just lets him follow along. 

Maybe he's never done any kickboxing before, but he's clearly athletic. He follows Eddie's instructions well, is very flexible, and definitely not afraid to get to work. For a beginner his kicks are high, strong and confident. He's comfortable behind the bag, as he seems to be getting all his frustrations from the day out on the bag. Good. That's what he's supposed to do in here.

When the hour is up, he's dripping sweat, exhausted.

Steve's wiping his brow with the tail of his shirt, letting Eddie get a glimpse of his hairy belly. Not the right time, not the right person, Eddie has to remind himself. 

"Still want that breakfast?" Eddie asks.

"Hell, yes. I'm starving. That was a workout."

Eddie laughs, and follows him down the stairs and towards the locker room. 

They both shower, and today Eddie's not annoyed that he's in the stall next to him, not like he was on the treadmill. 

It's funny how a moment or two can change your whole perspective that you just assumed was set in stone.

They pass the front desk, scanning their keycards to sign out, and Robin stands, looking at Steve, clearly concerned. She's fidgeting, worrying her hands. 

"Are you okay? Chrissy said–"

"I'm good," he says, interrupting, reassuring her, and Eddie watches them interact. She comes around the desk and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. 

He hugs her back, "Thanks, Rob. I needed that."

"You sure you're okay? Do you want me to find someone to cover–"

"Eddie's taking me to breakfast," Steve says, and Eddie does not miss the little widening her eyes do before she schools her face back to neutral. 

"Well, that's nice of you, Eddie," she says, and Eddie realizes he's been very, very wrong about whatever their dynamic is. She adores him, obviously. 

They hit the sidewalk, "So, Robin. Is she your…"

"Best friend. She's my best friend."

Eddie nods. That checks out. Steve was annoying her, but on purpose, mutually agreed upon nuisances, without a doubt.

They're best friends. He wasn't trying to pick her up against her will.

That's interesting.

Very interesting.

"Functional fitness," Steve says, sitting across from Eddie in the booth at the diner down the street from the gym, "it's for anybody, but I mainly teach seniors. It helps keep them mobile longer, and that makes me feel like I'm making a difference, you know?"

Eddie didn't know. Eddie had no idea what Steve was doing across the building, and had clearly assumed the worst, instead of the best of him.

He was wrong about Steve Harrington, he's pretty sure.

Steve keeps talking, "It helps them with everyday tasks, you know? Push, pull, carry. That kind of thing. So, I'll get younger participants that are rehabbing injuries, or that have chronic illnesses. But it mainly skews older, for sure. I never expected one of them to go down. I don't have them do novel movements over their hearts or anything, I swear."

Eddie nods. He's not sure what a novel movement is, not really.

"What a novel movement?" he asks.

"Well," Steve says, "it's like, something that you don't do everyday. A change. Shoveling snow. Shoveling snow is a novel movement, and that's why so many people unexpectedly die doing it."

Steve makes the motion for slinging a shovel full of snow over his shoulder, "So, like, I'm not making them do things like that."

"No shoveling snow in the gym, got it," Eddie says, teasing him a little, and Steve chuckles.

"You know what I mean," Steve says.

"I do," Eddie agrees. 

"I've never had that happen before," Steve then says quietly.

"And hopefully never again," Eddie comments. "It's not your fault. It's probably lucky for him he was with you. Best possible outcome if it had to happen."

Steve runs both of his hands down his face.

"Maybe."

Steve Harrington really isn't so bad, he supposes. He clearly cares a whole lot about what happened today.

The server puts down their plates, and they eat in silence, but it isn't uncomfortable.

Then Steve speaks again, "Thanks for helping, I was surprised to see you."

"Why?"

"You always seem so annoyed when I try to chat you up," Steve says.

Eddie can't really deny it. He has been annoyed. 

Wait.

Wait.

Was Steve trying to chat him up, chat him up? Like, flirting? Eddie wasn't reading flirting from him, that's for damn sure. 

Maybe he needs to pay better attention. That's been a common theme in his life, but usually about school, not attractive men that may or may not be interested in him.

"My bark is worse than my bite," Eddie settles on, and offers him a smile.

Steve laughs, his mood finally lifting, just a little, "Well, I hope not."

Holy shit. 

Eddie is such a goddamn idiot.

He's being flirted with. He's been being flirted with, for all the time he's known Steve Harrington.

Steve sits there for a minute, stirring his drink with his straw, knocking the ice around, "Do you think any of them will show up again?"

It takes Eddie a minute to parse his meaning, "Your class? Of course they will."

Steve rolls his shoulders in a non-convinced way.

"Steve. They know how old they are. You didn't do anything wrong."

Eddie doesn't know that. Not for sure. But he believes it to be true. He's just not sure how to prove it to him. Steve clearly cares too much to have done anything risky. 

Instead, Eddie asks, "When's your next class?" 

"Tomorrow."

"For the same people?"

"Some of them. Not everybody comes everyday."

"But some do?" Eddie asks.

"Some do," he confirms. "Usually, anyway. I have regulars. Vincent was a regular."

"Well," Eddie says, "I'll come. Then we'll know at least one person will be there. You took my class, so I should take yours. It's only fair."

Steve laughs, "It's not gonna be nearly as exciting as kickboxing."

Well, Steve's gonna be there. So, that sounds pretty exciting to Eddie.

The next day the class is as full as ever, Eddie suspects. And they're all kind to Steve, patting him on the back for saving their fellow classmate. He's stable in the ICU, and things are looking positive. Steve did good. He did real good.

The only discourse is a few of them trying to figure out how they're going to figure out the scheduling to take both Steve's functional fitness class and Gareth's cardio drumming. Eddie's pretty sure the kid is gonna have to add a senior class to his schedule again now that everyone got a preview of something they may have never tried on their own.

Eddie sidles up to their conversation, "I know Gareth. I'll make sure he schedules it so you can do both."

And just like that, he's won them over as well.

Steve gets started, and Eddie follows along with the routine Steve's leading. There are chairs for some of the less stable to hang onto, when needed, and it's just a thoughtful experience, honestly. Steve's kind, and funny, and they very clearly adore him.

He might not break a sweat, but he's really doing something special here. 

Eddie really hopes he'll get to tell him that later, over dinner, or drinks. Anything he wants, as long as Eddie can make up for lost time and for being a judgmental asshole for no good reason.

Steve grins, and Eddie smiles back as they get in place for the next rep in the set.  

Now, Eddie is certain that he wants to get outside of his comfort zone, outside of the box, when it comes to Steve Harrington.

Novel movements, indeed.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

Notes: I didn't know where this was going, but I knew I wanted to use "Eddie Munson" the prompt as his name being said by Steve. So I got as far as, "Eddie hates this dude more than anyone else at the _."

Where? Where are they? I wondered if I could find a randomizer for jobs, and just...see if that would produce an idea. I did, right here, and spun the wheel and got "personal trainer" which isn't exactly where this led, but it got them in the gym, and the rest of the story fleshed itself out from there.

[seospicybin]

TASTE.

CHAPTER IV: DECADENT.

Lee Know x reader. (s,a)

TASTE MASTERLIST

Synopsis: When Minho is hired as the head chef of Farfalle, a prestigious Italian restaurant, expectations are high for him to elevate its reputation and bring it to new heights. However, no one anticipates the drastic changes he implements in the kitchen—including his strict rule that that there'll be no women and no romance in his kitchen. (21,5k words)

Author's note: Congratulations on surviving the week. Pls enjoy the new chapter and don’t forget to share what you think of it ♡

Decadent /ˈde-kə-dənt/ (adj) characterized by or appealing to self-indulgence.

We've all heard the phrase: "You are what you eat." Have you ever considered, however, that what you eat might also affect how you feel? Certain foods are filled with compounds that have the potential to make you happy, for example, dark chocolate. You always start your mornings with a cup of coffee and you never forget to drop in a chunk of dark chocolate. It’s your little treat to yourself, a tiny boost of serotonin that makes even the busiest mornings a bit sweeter. Today is no exception, but as you finish your coffee in a hurry, there’s a lightness in your chest that has nothing to do with the chocolate.

It’s going to be a good day. You grab your bag and step out of your apartment, locking the door behind you. Just as you turn around, you see Minho stepping out of his apartment. Your heart skips a beat, the sight of him adding another unexplainable surge of serotonin to your morning.

You lift your hand to wave, but before you can, Minho strides toward the elevator, his pace hurried. He reaches it just in time, stopping the doors from closing, and slips inside without even glancing your way. You pout, your hand dropping back to your side. He didn’t see me…

But then, just as the doors are about to close completely, his head pops out. “Why are you just standing there?”

A grin spreads across your face. Without a second thought, you jog to the elevator, slipping inside to stand beside him.

The space is small, quiet, but the silence doesn’t feel awkward. It feels charged, alive with unspoken words and a giddiness you can’t seem to shake. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your smile returning before you can stop it. The memory of last night rushes back, unbidden but vivid. The warmth of his touch, the sound of his laughter, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

You feel the heat creeping up your neck and quickly look away, trying to steady your thoughts. But when you glance at him again, you notice something—a tiny imperfection in his otherwise perfect look. Without thinking, you reach for him, your fingers brushing the collar of his shirt, straightening it for him.

Minho tilts his head slightly, watching you with an amused glint in his eyes. “If you keep doing things like this in the kitchen, people are going to figure it out,” he says, his tone teasing.

You blink up at him, feigning innocence. “Figure what out?”

His lips twitch, and he looks away for a moment, as if to keep from laughing. “It’s written all over your face,” he replies, his voice lower, softer.

You shake your head in denial, but the smile pulling at your lips betrays you. Minho’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, and then he smirks. “Stop being so obvious,” he says, his voice playfully scolding.

You lower your head, trying to stifle your laughter. “Yes, Chef,” you reply formally, biting back your grin.

The silence that follows barely lasts a second before you both break into smiles again, the sound of your laughter filling the elevator. Minho lets out a playful groan and gently shoves your shoulder. “I’m serious. Stop.”

You scoot closer to him, your smile turning mischievous. “Make me,” you tease, linking your arm with his.

Minho shakes his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners, reaching to untangle your arm from his. But instead of letting go, he lets his hand slide down to yours, his fingers lacing with yours in an easy, natural motion.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The only sound is the soft hum of the elevator. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, but you don’t let go. Neither does he. And just like that, the day feels even brighter.

-

Lunch service is in full swing, the kitchen alive with clattering pans, sizzling oils, and the hum of orders being called out. Minho stands at his chef’s table, his eyes sweeping across the room like a hawk, watching every station for mistakes or signs of slacking off. His expression is calm, composed, the perfect picture of control. But no matter how hard he tries, his gaze keeps drifting your way.

It’s distracting, this magnetic pull toward you, as if his eyes are betraying his better judgment. He stiffens when you approach his table, balancing two plates of aglio e olio in your hands. The precision in your movements catches his attention, but it’s your face he’s scanning for remnants of last night—some telltale blush, a lingering glance, anything. But you’re calm. Too calm.

“Chef?” you ask, your voice low enough that only he can hear over the chaos of the kitchen. “Is there a problem?”

Minho blinks, caught off guard. You look at him with innocent eyes, and for a moment, he’s annoyed—not at you, but at himself for expecting something different. You’re good at hiding your feelings, he realizes, far better than he is.

“No,” he mutters, grabbing a cloth and wiping the edge of the plate with unnecessary care. He keeps his eyes on you as you turn and head back to your station, his chest tightening with a strange, inexplicable pull.

Even with the entire kitchen between you, Minho feels drawn to you, like a magnet he can’t resist. He tells himself he’s just observing your cooking—making sure your technique is flawless—but the truth is harder to admit.

Before he knows it, he’s walking toward your station, aiming to stand behind you. But just as he gets close, you step away, heading toward the freezer without sparing him a glance. Minho halts awkwardly mid-step, cursing himself for his obviousness.

Quick to recover, he veers toward Felix, glancing over the risotto Felix is stirring. “Too much thyme,” Minho comments curtly, masking his unease. Felix frowns, his lips twitching as if to argue, but Minho doesn’t give him the chance.

“Yes, Chef,” Felix quickly responds to avoid being scolded.

Returning to his chef’s table, Minho’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, his heart skipping when he sees your name on the screen.

He glances up, and there you are, emerging from the freezer, carrying a container of grated Parmesan. So that’s why you went there, he thinks, a smirk tugging at his lips. He opens the text and reads it quickly: Don’t make it obvious.

Minho scoffs, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Too late, he thinks, though he’d never admit it. You’ve gotten under his skin more than he cares to acknowledge, and it’s showing. It’s time to remind himself—and you—that he’s still in charge.

“You!” he calls out loudly, his voice cutting through the kitchen like a whip. Heads turn as you straighten up at your station. “Table 18 and 21, you take them all. Now. And if you can’t get them out in time, I’ll hang you upside down like a bat.”

You put on a feigned look of horror, widening your eyes and pouting slightly. “Yes, Chef!” you reply, your tone both dutiful and teasing.

Minho’s lips twitch, but he keeps his expression sharp. From the corner of his eye, he sees Felix glaring at him, his brows furrowed in silent question.

“Why is Chef being so harsh with us?” Felix whispers to you when he gets the chance.

You shrug, offering him a coy smile. “I have no idea,” you say lightly, but there’s a glint in your eyes, one that only Minho can decipher.

He watches you with a faint smirk, his irritation dissipating as quickly as it had come. You’re playing your part perfectly, and even though he started this game, he knows you’ll always find a way to win.

-

The idea of meeting Minho outside work feels thrilling, like a secret only the two of you share. You take off your jacket and step out of the restaurant during idle time, excitement bubbling inside you. You shove your hands into your jacket pockets, walking casually down the street, your mind already imagining his expression when you see him.

Out of nowhere, Chris appears beside you, matching your stride. "Where are you off to?" he asks, his tone light but curious.

Startled, you quickly pull yourself together. You hadn’t expected anyone to catch you leaving. Thinking fast, you point down the street and mumble, "Oh, just heading that way. What about you?"

Chris grins, his dimples deepening. "Same direction, actually."

You nod, trying to mask your unease as the two of you continue walking side by side. But as you near the convenience store, your chest tightens. Panic creeps in—how are you going to explain this to Minho?

Slowing your steps, you turn to Chris and say, "You can go ahead. I’ll catch up."

Chris chuckles, bumping your shoulder playfully. "What’s the rush? I like walking with you."

You force a laugh, your nerves showing. "Are you sure you’re not following me?"

He scoffs, amused by your accusation. "Don’t flatter yourself."

You pick up your pace, hoping to lose him, but Chris keeps up effortlessly. To your dismay, he follows you right into the convenience store.

Minho is already there, sitting on a stool and leaning casually against a counter, his sharp gaze softening slightly when he spots you—until he notices Chris trailing behind. His expression shifts to one of barely concealed annoyance.

You shrug sheepishly, pretending to be surprised. "Oh, Chef! What a coincidence," you say, your voice overly cheerful.

Chris walks past you, oblivious to the tension, heading straight for the freezer section. Minho’s glare sharpens, and he jerks his head slightly, gesturing for you to sit on the stool next to him.

As you do, he discreetly slides a chocolate bar under the table. You catch it and quickly tuck it into your jacket pocket, mouthing a grateful "thank you" as a small smile tugs at your lips.

Chris returns, holding three ice creams. He places one in front of each of you before sitting down next to you.

The three of you unwrap your ice creams in silence, the sound of crinkling wrappers the only noise. You take a bite, the cold sweetness melting on your tongue.

After a while, Chris is the first to break the quiet. "It’s payday. Shouldn’t you be treating me to something?"

You chuckle, nodding your head. "Sure, I’ll pay for the ice creams."

Minho slightly swivels his stool and cuts in. "Why should she be the one paying?"

Chris smirks, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Then why don’t you pay for it, Chef?"

Minho sighs, leaning back and gazing out the window. "You are indeed an interesting person," he mutters. "You own a fine dining restaurant but come all the way here for ice cream."

Chris turns to you with his signature dimpled smile and playfully bumps your shoulder. "But it's good, right?"

You nod, grinning. "It’s good."

Minho’s glare swings to you. "Is it good?" he asks, his tone pointed.

You meet his eyes and smile sweetly. "It’s good, Chef."

Minho exhales sharply but doesn’t say more. The three of you finish your ice creams in relative quiet, the tension between Minho and Chris oddly amusing. Despite the unexpected company and how far the situation strayed from your plan, you find yourself enjoying it. Minho’s sharp wit, Chris’s warm charm—they’re such opposites, yet somehow the dynamic works. For now, you savor the moment, the sweetness of the ice cream and the peculiar balance of the company around you.

-

Minho steps into his office, his jaw tightening as he recalls how his intended rendezvous with you had been derailed by Chris’s untimely appearance. The faint annoyance gnaws at him as he tosses his coat over the chair and heads for the small coffee station in the corner of the room.

Making coffee has always had a strange way of soothing him. He finds a rhythm in the grind of the beans, the steady hum of the machine, and the rich aroma filling the space. It’s methodical, like cooking, but without the chaos of the kitchen. Once the cup is brewed, he brings it to his desk, its warmth radiating through the ceramic against his palms.

Settling into his chair, Minho takes a slow sip, savoring the bitterness. The smell alone brings him comfort, but today, it also stirs memories of the previous night. Just you and him. No distractions. No interruptions. He closes his eyes briefly, replaying the way your laugh had sounded, how you’d looked at him with that softness in your eyes that made his chest tighten.

Minho leans back, letting the moment linger longer than he should. He knows better than to dwell, yet the thought of being alone with you again is too tempting to ignore. He’s drawn out of his reverie when Taesoo enters the office and strikes him like a lightning in the middle of the day.

“I saw you kiss her in the kitchen last night.”

He stares at Taesoo, who stands before him looking like he regrets every word he’s just spoken. But there is no taking it back. The damage is done.

Minho straightens, his voice low and controlled. “Does anyone else know?”

Taesoo shakes his head quickly, his hands rising in defense. “No, no one. I swear.”

Minho’s jaw tightens as he steps closer, his shadow falling over Taesoo. “Then make sure it stays that way.”

The younger one nods, his face pale. “I didn’t mean—”

“Go back to the kitchen,” Minho interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Taesoo hesitates for only a moment before bowing and hurrying out of the office, leaving Minho alone once again with his thoughts that swirling in his head like a raging storm.

By the time dinner service begins, the weight of Taesoo’s insinuation hangs heavy on Minho’s mind. He works with precision, shouting orders and keeping a close eye on the line, determined not to let it show.

Amid the controlled chaos, a service staff approaches, momentarily breaking his focus. “Chef, a customer wants to personally thank the chef for the meal.”

Minho adjusts his apron, preparing to meet the guest, but the staff quickly adds, “Actually, they asked to see Sous Chef Seojun. He made the dish.”

Minho nods curtly, signaling for Seojun to handle it. He watches as the sous chef heads to the front, a mix of pride and frustration swirling within him. Normally, he’d take satisfaction in seeing his team praised, but tonight, his thoughts are elsewhere.

Just as Minho turns back to the station, Sara appears beside him, her voice low but firm. “We need to talk later,” she says, her tone serious.

Minho glances at her, his brow furrowing. She doesn’t elaborate, simply giving him a meaningful look before stepping away.

His grip on the edge of the counter tightens as the night presses on, the burden of unspoken words, secrets, and mounting suspicion weighing heavily on him. Minho pushes through service, but the once-controlled rhythm of his work feels off-kilter, his mind plagued by everything he’s trying to keep hidden.

-

Minho finishes changing into his casual clothes, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt when a knock echoes on his office door. Without needing to ask, he knows who it is. "Come in," he calls out, his voice steady but laced with curiosity.

The door opens, and Sara steps in, her usual composed demeanor intact as she casually takes a seat on the single sofa in his office. Minho raises an eyebrow at her boldness, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed. "You look a little too comfortable in my office," he remarks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Sara doesn’t flinch. Instead, she smirks, tilting her head. "You should get used to it."

Minho narrows his eyes but gestures for her to get to the point. "So, what is it you want to talk to me about?"

She reclines slightly, crossing her legs as she starts. "It’s about Sous Chef Seojun."

Minho’s brows furrow. "What about him?"

Sara doesn’t miss a beat. "He might be leaving the kitchen soon."

Minho's eyebrow raised at that and he straightens as the weight of her words settling in.

"The customer who asked for him earlier—he’s opening a new Italian restaurant. I’m willing to bet Seojun’s been offered the head chef position," she explains, her tone calm but with a hint of gravity. "And if that happens, he’ll probably take his people with him."

Minho takes in her words, the implications running through his mind. He knows Sara’s right; it’s not just a possibility—it’s a likelihood. The thought of losing key members of his team, of having to rebuild the kitchen dynamics, gnaws at him.

Minho steps out of the back entrance into the cool night air, his eyes scanning the parking lot. Seojun’s car is still in its spot and he sees Seojun sitting inside with Seungwan and Hyunwoo. The three of them are animated, their laughter spilling into the quiet night. Minho doesn’t need to hear the conversation to guess what it’s about—they’re probably already dreaming of leaving his kitchen behind.

Minho’s mood sours further as he heads home. By the time he steps into his apartment, the weight of everything—Taesoo’s suspicions, Sara’s warning, Seojun’s likely departure—feels unbearable. The suffocating stillness of his apartment does nothing to help. On a whim, he grabs his phone and sends you a text, telling you to come out.

A moment later, your apartment door creaks open, and there you are, smiling the moment you see him. That smile—it’s enough to ease the tension in his chest, even if only slightly.

"Were you sleeping?" Minho asks, his voice softer than usual.

You shake your head. "No, not yet. Why?"

He hesitates, the temptation to spill everything clawing at him. He wants to tell you about Taesoo, about Seojun, about how everything seems to be crumbling around him. But he stops himself. That’s not why he’s here.

Instead, he smirks, his tone shifting to something lighter. "Have you eaten the chocolate I gave you?"

You giggle, shaking your head again. "Not yet."

Minho stares at you, feigning disbelief. "Why not?"

You grin, teasing him. "Because it’s from you. I don’t want to eat it."

Minho hisses through his teeth, pretending to be annoyed. "Eat it," he orders, though there’s no real bite in his tone.

You respond with a playful, formal tone, "Yes, Chef."

Minho steps closer, leaning in until his lips are near your ear. His voice drops to a whisper. "And don’t share it with anyone else."

Your cheeks flush as you nod, a smile tugging at your lips. Before pulling back, Minho brushes his lips against your cheek, lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

"Go back inside and sleep," he murmurs.

You look up at him, your smile warm and soft. "Goodnight, Chef."

Minho watches as you retreat into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you. He turns and walks back to his own apartment, the warmth of your smile and the memory of your laughter lingering in his chest, making the weight of the night just a little easier to bear.

-

The locker room is quiet when you enter, the faint scent of metal and detergent lingering in the air. You open your locker, placing your things inside methodically, your mind half on the day ahead and half on the memory of Minho at your door last night. His touch, his words, the subtle vulnerability in his eyes—it all lingers, warm and heavy in your chest. But you can’t also deny that you noticed something in his eyes, something troubling that he refused to share with you.

The sound of footsteps echoes in the room, pulling you from your thoughts. Voices follow, familiar and distinct. Seungwan and Hyunwoo, you realize, accompanied by Sous Chef Seojun. They always arrive together, carpooling to work.

Your locker is on the opposite side of the room, and they won't know you're there unless you make a noise, their conversation carries clearly in the space.

"Did you guys get your resumes ready?" Seojun’s voice cuts through.

"Yeah, I emailed mine last night," Seungwan replies, his tone light with excitement.

"Same," Hyunwoo adds, chuckling. "I can’t wait to work in a real kitchen, where we can actually create something."

Seojun hums approvingly. "Good. The owner’s expecting them today. This is going to be big for us."

You pause, your heart sinking. Their words start piecing together a puzzle you hadn’t even realized existed. Something that bothers Minho’s mind—this must be it. His team is planning to leave him.

Minho may act like it doesn't bother him but you can see it, especially during the lunch service. The kitchen is at its usual chaos, orders are flooding in and the rhythm is relentless. Sara’s triple-flavored pasta is still the crowd favorite and the demand is testing her limits.

Next to you, Sara wipes her brow, exhaling sharply. "This is insane," she mutters, glancing at you as you plate the last vongole for your station.

"Is that your last one?" she asks, her voice tinged with urgency.

"Yes, Chef," you reply, your tone calm and steady as always.

"Can you take three of my orders?" she asks, her gaze sharp but pleading.

You nod, placing the vongole on Minho’s chef table before moving to Sara’s station. She’s already started another order, her hands working swiftly as she talks you through the steps. You follow her lead, watching every motion, memorizing each detail.

When the first dish is ready, you bring it to her for approval. Sara takes a bite, her expression thoughtful as she chews. Then, a smile breaks across her face.

"The dough, the sauce, temperature and tenderness... it's all good," she says, nodding in approval.

Relief washes over you, and you smile back. "Thank you, Chef."

Sara laughs, a rare lightness in her tone. "I better watch my back. You’re going to catch up to me soon."

You laugh softly, returning your focus to the task at hand. The kitchen fades around you as you concentrate on perfecting the dish, tuning out the chaos that swirls like a storm. It isn’t until Minho slams his hands on his chef’s table and his voice booms across the room that you snap out of your focus.

"Sous Chef!" he barks, his tone sharp enough to cut through the noise. "How could you spaced out in the middle of cooking! Can't you hear your meat crying out to you? Can't you tell what to do from the color and the smell? You should know by now."

You glance over, catching sight of the sous chef scrambling to salvage the charred meat with his thong.

"And you! What good is this meat if you treat it like third class meat?" Minho continues, turning to Hyunwoo. "Top grade meat does not need anything but salt to melt in your mouth. It does not need any chef to cook it well."

Minho taps Hyunwoo’s pan with a wooden spatula as his voice raises louder as he continues talking. "A true chef is the one who can make low class meat taste like the top grade. But even with a top grade meat, I don't know what you've been thinking but you've made the meat go tough. You are ruining the food!"

He turns at Seungwan next as he prepares a salad on his plate. Minho grabs his container of cilantro, showing him how they're wilting against the temperature in the kitchen.

"Didn’t I tell you to give them some water and cover them with a wet cloth. I told you so many times but you just wouldn't listen to me."

Seeing the defiance in them seem to only anger Minho, he inhales air but it doesn’t help him anymore. "Do you think at a restaurant where there is a luxurious dining hall, and a grand kitchen would make you a top chef? Is that it, huh?"

Minho’s fury is palpable, his frustration spilling over. The entrée line is a mess, their movements sluggish and half-hearted. It’s clear their minds are elsewhere—already dreaming of the new kitchen Seojun promised them.

"GET YOUR BRAINS BACK TO YOUR HEADS!"

The tension in the kitchen mounts, heavy and suffocating. You steal a glance at Minho, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing as he tries to regain control. Despite everything, he doesn’t falter. He keeps shouting orders, his voice commanding as he refuses to let the kitchen crumble under his watch.

But you can see the strain in him, the weight of it all bearing down on his shoulders. And it makes your chest ache, knowing just how much he’s carrying.

-

The kitchen is eerily quiet after the lunch service ends, the usual clatter of pans and voices replaced by the hum of the exhaust fans. One by one, the cooks file out, muttering farewells or simply disappearing without a word. All except Seojun.

Minho stays rooted at his chef table, arms crossed, his sharp gaze trained on the sous chef still standing at his station. Seojun doesn’t move, his posture stiff, as though he’s bracing himself.

For a long moment, neither of them speaks. The silence hangs heavy, charged with unspoken words and simmering tension. Their eyes lock, an unyielding standoff.

Finally, Seojun breaks the silence. "You said first class chef can make the third class food to top class," he begins, his voice low but steady, "According to your theory, if you're a top class chef, shouldn't you also be able to make us into first class chef as well?"

Minho tilts his head slightly, his expression calm but sharp as a blade. "Are you saying it’s my fault that you’re third-class chefs?"

Seojun’s jaw tightens, his shoulders stiffening. "So, is it because we are third class cooks that you don't want to cook with us?"

Minho lets out a soft exhale, leaning slightly against the table. His voice is measured, deliberate. "You think I’m just sitting here, doing nothing? You’re like third-rate meat, full of fat and sinews. It needs to be pounded, poked, and tenderized to become top-grade. If you resent being called third-class, then try harder. Endure the process. If I slap your left cheek, offer me the other so that you can learn. This is how I cook in my kitchen."

Seojun clenches his fists, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he grinds his teeth. "You think that’s all it takes?" he says, his voice rising. "You think burning us down and grinding us up will make us better?"

Without breaking eye contact, Seojun grabs a nearby bottle of wine, yanking it open. He strides to the grill, tipping the bottle and splashing a stream of wine onto the hot surface. Flames roar to life, licking the air in a brilliant burst of heat and light.

Seojun turns back to Minho, the fire reflecting in his eyes. "No matter how good the meat is, it’ll burn if you keep cooking it on high heat," he says, his tone biting.

The flames die down, leaving only the faint scent of charred wine in the air. Seojun sets the bottle down with a sharp thud. "Stop setting everything on fire," he says, his voice quieter now but no less forceful.

And with that, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Minho standing alone in the silence.

Minho remains still, his expression unreadable as he watches Seojun’s retreating back. Resistance isn’t new to him—cooks have come and gone, each one thinking they could challenge him, break him. But there’s something about Seojun’s words that lingers, digging beneath the surface like an itch he can’t scratch.

-

The day at the restaurant is long and grueling, but it ends like it always does—everyone pulling through to close out another service. Minho is heading back to the kitchen when he spots Seojun walking toward him from the opposite direction.

Their eyes lock, the unspoken tension between them thick in the air. Minho knows he can’t leave it as it is—not with the quiet defiance in Seojun’s gaze. He stops him by standing in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest, his stance commanding.

Seojun halts, his posture stiffening slightly.

"I’m not good at beating around the bush, so I’ll just say it," Minho begins, his tone blunt. "If you want to leave this kitchen, then leave after I fire you. Or leave after you beat me."

He steps closer, leaning in until there’s barely any space between them. His eyes narrow, his voice lowering to a near-growl. "Leave after you surpass me. Got it?"

The air between them is heavy with challenge, neither of them moving, neither willing to back down. Finally, Minho straightens, his expression unreadable, and strides past Seojun without another word.

When Minho enters the kitchen, he isn’t surprised to find you there. You’re bent over the counter, carefully squeezing the filling onto flat sheets of pasta dough, your movements deliberate and precise.

He leans against his chef table, watching you in silence. There’s something calming about the way you work, even in the quiet hum of the now-empty kitchen.

After a moment, he approaches, stopping just close enough for you to notice. "Are you busy?" he asks, his voice casual.

Without looking up, you nod. "Yes. Chef Sara asked me to make 100 ravioli tonight."

Minho hums in response, staying where he is and watching as you cut the dough into perfect circles. But he isn’t one to let things go easily. He straightens and moves closer again, his voice soft but teasing. "Come play with me."

You glance at him briefly before turning back to your task. "Can you see I’m busy?" you reply evenly.

Minho tilts his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Come, play with me. You can work later."

You shake your head, your tone light but firm. "I can’t. You’re too scary."

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. "You don’t look scared of me," he counters smoothly.

"I have to finish these ravioli first," you remind him, keeping your focus on your work.

Minho nods slowly, though the mischievous glint in his eyes doesn’t fade. "You’re right—you have to do it to learn. But you also have to learn with me."

Before you can argue, he grabs your bag and jacket from the chef table, holding them out to you. "Let’s go," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You open your mouth to protest, but Minho is already heading for the door, your bag slung over his shoulder. With no other choice, you sigh and follow him, your heart racing as you step out of the restaurant together.

-

The silence in the elevator is broken only by the soft hum of its movement. You trail slightly behind Minho, who stands calm and unreadable, his finger having pressed the button for the 14th floor. You glance at him, curiosity getting the better of you, and playfully nudge his side with your elbow.

“If you told me you were taking me on a date, I’d have come without a second thought,” you whisper with a grin.

Minho turns his sharp gaze to you, narrowing his eyes. “It’s not a date,” he states firmly. “I told you I want you to learn something tonight.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, dramatically pouting. Minho doesn’t spare you another glance, stepping out as the elevator doors slide open.

He leads you to a restaurant on the hotel balcony, the cool night air mingling with the soft glow of city lights. Despite the late hour, the kitchen is still open. The waiter, seemingly assuming you’re a couple, seats you at a table with the best view.

Minho orders right away, his confidence making it clear he’s familiar with the menu. When the server brings over a tray of bread, you light up, hunger gnawing at your stomach since you haven’t eaten anything all day.

But just as you’re about to grab a piece, Minho’s voice cuts through your excitement. “Don’t eat the bread,” he warns.

You freeze, confused. “Why not? I’m starving.”

He crosses his arms, his tone firm. “You’ll ruin your appetite. You’ll fill up on bread and won’t appreciate the main dishes. Unless it’s to soak up the leftover sauce, don’t touch it.”

Reluctantly, you sigh and set the bread back down, earning a brief approving nod from him.

Moments later, the server returns with your first course—a shrimp and avocado salad. You and Minho share the plate, each picking up your forks. Minho takes one bite before setting his fork down, his expression immediately souring.

“How does it taste to you?” he asks, his tone sharp.

You hesitate before answering honestly, “It’s not that bad.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, incredulous. “Not that bad? The shrimp is overcooked—it’s a pink sponge that smells like shrimp. If you cooked like this in my kitchen, I’d make sure you grew horns on your head, like a shrimp.”

You sigh again, reluctantly putting your fork down as Minho insists you stop eating.

Soon, the main course arrives: crab meat ravioli in a tomato basil sauce. You’re thrilled, digging in right away, but before you can enjoy your first bite, Minho stops you.

“Hold it,” he commands, gesturing with his knife toward the ravioli on your plate. One has burst open in the back, spilling its filling.

“What’s the purpose of making ravioli?” he asks rhetorically. “To keep the filling intact. This ravioli has lost its purpose in life.”

You roll your eyes, setting your utensils down again. “Why didn’t you just ask them to recook it then?” you challenge.

Minho scoffs. “That’s the last thing I want to hear as a chef, and I won’t say it to another chef.”

“Then just eat it,” you reply, exasperated.

“I don’t want to,” he retorts stubbornly.

You groan, leaning back in your seat. Minho continues to mutter, lamenting the quality of the dish and feeling pity for the customers paying for this food.

“I should call the chef out and shove this plate down his throat,” he mutters darkly.

Shaking your head, you sigh. “You know, I’m just grateful anytime someone else cooks for me. I hate having to cook for myself at home.”

Minho leans forward, fixing you with an intense stare. “Are you saying that if you lived with someone, you wouldn’t cook for them? That you’d let your partner starve in the morning or fall asleep without making dinner?”

You smirk, propping your chin on your hand. “My partner can cook for me.”

Minho scoffs, smirking back. “What man in his right mind would cook for a partner who’s a chef?”

You flash him a sly smile. “Then I’ll just marry a chef.”

Minho gasps dramatically, his disbelief exaggerated but amused. He leans back in his chair, his eyes studying you with a mix of delight and curiosity.

Suddenly, he shouts for a server nearby, clearly intending to complain about the food. You sink lower into your chair, already feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

Minho's complaints echo in your mind as you sit stiffly in the car beside him. The memory of him criticizing the food so openly to the server makes your cheeks burn. You glance out the window, trying to shake off the embarrassment, but it lingers.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you turn to him. “Why did you do that?” you ask, your tone sharper than you intended.

Minho keeps his eyes on the road, his expression unbothered. “Because if I didn’t, it’s like telling those chefs to never improve. To just stay stuck in the same place their entire lives.”

You sigh, glaring at him, though he doesn’t look your way. He still seems to feel it, though, because he spares you a quick glance.

“What now?” he asks, clearly exasperated.

“I’m hungry!” you whine, your tone full of complaint.

“Then why didn’t you eat earlier?”

That does it. You snap, your voice rising. “Because you told me not to!”

Minho pauses, processing your words before letting out a long breath. “Fine,” he mutters, turning the car sharply.

Before you know it, you’re at his place. Minho ushers you inside, moving straight to the kitchen.

-

As Minho places the plate of grilled cheese in front of you, the aroma hits you like a warm embrace: toasted bread, melted cheese, and a hint of nuttiness. Your mouth waters at the sight, and your stomach growls in anticipation. One bite and you know—it’s not just a grilled cheese. It’s a masterpiece.

Minutes later, you set the empty plate down on the coffee table, leaning back with a contented sigh. Then reality hits, and you groan. “Ugh, I still have to finish the ravioli tomorrow morning.”

Minho, lounging beside you, raises an eyebrow. “So?”

You turn to him, giving him your best pleading look. “Help me with it?”

His response is instant and firm. “No.”

You pout, but he doesn’t budge. “Why would I waste my energy making ravioli for Sara?” he adds, sounding almost offended.

Your shoulders slump in disappointment. “Mean,” you mutter under your breath.

Minho leans back further, running a hand through his hair as he lets out a low sigh. “And why should I waste my energy on people who want to leave me anyway?”

The words hang in the air, and your ears perk up. Something in his tone—calm but heavy—gives you pause. It hits you then: he indeed knows about Souschef Seojun.

You turn to him sharply. “So, you knew about it?”

His gaze shifts to yours, and his eyes are piercing. “And you didn't tell me about it.”

You hesitate, feeling cornered. “I like Souschef,” you admit. “I want to keep working with him, but… I also think he should take this opportunity for himself.”

Minho clicks his tongue, his expression darkening. “You’re a professional two-timer,” he says with a scoff.

The jab stings, but before you can respond, he stares at the ceiling, his voice quieter now. “It’s the hardest thing... moving up to chef from sous chef. Most don’t make it.”

You study his face, the frustration he tries so hard to mask. He’s bothered, even though he won’t outright say it. The fact that Minho thinks about it means he actually cares more than he let on.

A question forms in your head and in a softer tone, you dare yourself to ask but keeping your tone soft, “Why do you push away the people who like you and push even harder the ones who don’t? Who’s going to stay by your side if you keep doing that?”

Minho turns his head, his eyes locking with yours. A smirk tugs at his lips as he answers, “I have you.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, your heart skipping a beat. Without thinking, you slip your arm around his, holding it close to your chest.

“That’s true,” you whisper, smiling softly. “I’ll always stick by your side.”

Deep down, you hope he believes you and that it's not some words you said to please him. You hope he knows you’ll stay by his side, no matter what.

-

The next day, Minho strides purposefully through the restaurant, his mind already racing with the tasks of the day. His feet carry him toward Chris's office, but he pauses as he notices Seojun approaching from the opposite hallway.

Their eyes meet, and they exchange a brief, puzzled look. Neither says a word, but the shared confusion is clear: why are they both heading to the same place?

When they reach the door, Seojun glances at Minho and knocks. Chris’s voice calls out, “Come in,” and they step inside together.

Chris is seated at his desk, scribbling his signature onto a stack of papers. He doesn’t look up immediately, merely gestures for them to sit. Minho and Seojun take the seats across from each other, the silence stretching as they wait for Chris to finish.

Finally, Chris sets his pen down and moves to the small sofa in the corner of the office, gesturing for them to stay where they are. He leans forward, hands clasped, his face serious but unreadable.

“A customer has requested the restaurant’s service after business hours,” Chris begins, his tone measured. “They want to hold an event at midnight tonight.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, glancing at Seojun, who looks just as perplexed. “What could they possibly want to eat at midnight?” Minho asks, skepticism laced in his voice.

Seojun leans forward slightly, echoing Minho’s confusion. “Did the customer ask for me specifically?”

Chris nods, addressing both of their concerns. “I don’t know why the event is at midnight, but yes, they specifically asked for you, Souschef.”

Seojun’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, and Minho narrows his eyes, trying to piece together the puzzle.

Chris continues, “I need both of you to oversee this request. You’ll also need to pick an assistant to help you with the prep and execution.”

Minho leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. He studies Chris’s expression, searching for clues, but his boss remains as inscrutable as ever.

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of the request sinking in. Midnight. A private event. A specific request for Seojun.

As they stand to leave, Minho’s thoughts churn. What kind of event requires such secrecy and precision at this hour? And why does it feel like tonight is going to change everything?

-

When Minho tells you to stay after dinner service tonight, you don’t expect to find yourself assisting in what feels like a culinary duel. He and Seojun go head-to-head, cooking the same dish—grilled lobster bisque—for a special customer order. As you move between them, handing over ingredients, wiping surfaces, and following their instructions, you can’t help but notice how starkly different their approaches are.

Minho works with practiced precision, each movement calculated and efficient, while Seojun experiments, adjusting on the fly. At one point, Minho catches your eye and smirks, his expression practically saying, This is child’s play for me. You bite back an eye roll, handing him a cloth to wipe the edge of his plate.

When they finish plating, Minho and Seojun each carry their dishes to the dining hall. You trail behind, quietly observing as they serve the customer. The man sits alone at the large table, his demeanor calm but unreadable. As Minho and Seojun approach, you catch the brief flicker of surprise on Seojun’s face. It’s then you realize—this must be the man trying to recruit him for the new restaurant.

The customer greets them with a polite smile and sets a napkin on his lap. Before he can say anything, Minho asks the question lingering in everyone’s mind. “Why did you order the same dish this late at night?”

The customer smiles dismissively. “Shouldn’t that remain the concern of the guest?”

Minho keeps his face neutral, though you can sense his annoyance bubbling beneath the surface.

The customer tastes Minho’s dish first, nodding slightly but offering no comment. He then moves on to Seojun’s, taking a single bite before pausing. “Why didn’t you use higher-quality extra virgin olive oil? Was it the cost?”

Seojun hesitates, clearly caught off guard. He stammers out a response, but Minho cuts in smoothly. “It’s not about the cost. Extra virgin olive oil burns too quickly on the grill. It’s a matter of technique, not expense.”

The customer arches a brow. “But I still prefer the expensive oil.”

You see the muscle in Minho’s jaw twitch, though his smile remains intact.

The customer takes another bite, then comments on the sauce. “The flavor is quite good. Did you use the lobster shell?”

You blink, recalling the cooking process. Seojun didn’t use lobster shells. Without thinking, you blurt out, “It’s shrimp, not lobster.”

The room goes silent. Your stomach sinks as you realize you’ve spoken out of turn. Quickly, you lower your gaze and stammer an apology.

The customer turns to Seojun. “Why would you use shrimp shells when lobster shells were available?”

Before Seojun can respond, Minho steps in again. “It’s not about cost-cutting. Shrimp shells retain a better flavor profile than lobster shells.”

The customer dips his fork into the sauce and frowns. “The sauce... It’s too salty.”

Seojun forces a sheepish smile. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Minho, clearly at the end of his patience, interjects, “The sauce is meant to be eaten with the lobster and salad. It’s balanced when combined.”

The customer raises an eyebrow. “Should I?”

Minho’s smile strains further. “Yes, you should.”

As soon as he excuses himself to leave, Minho storms off, heading for the stairs. You scramble to catch up, struggling to match his furious pace. He reaches the top of the steps, then stops abruptly, spinning around to march back down. You quickly dart in front of him, blocking his path.

“That pompous idiot!” he hisses, his voice rising. “Acting like he knows everything when he knows nothing!”

“Chef,” you whisper urgently, glancing nervously toward the dining hall. “He’ll hear you!”

“I don’t care if he hears me!” Minho snaps, his voice growing louder.

Panicking, you grab his arm, pulling him back. “You can’t go back down there!”

His eyes blaze as he glares at you, his chest heaving with frustration. “That kind of person is the one I hate the most!”

You tighten your grip on his arm and press your forehead against his shoulder, desperate to calm him down. “Chef, please. Just let it go.”

He lets out a harsh sigh, running a hand through his hair. After a tense pause, he finally turns and continues climbing the stairs, muttering under his breath. You follow closely, silently praying he doesn’t change his mind and storm back down.

In the car ride home, Minho grips the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. His jaw is clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as he navigates through the dimly lit streets. His anger still simmers, radiating off him in waves.

“Shake it off already,” you say gently, hoping to lighten the mood.

He lets out a long, frustrated sigh but doesn’t glance at you. “I’m going to be even harsher on them from now on so they won't leave,” he declares firmly.

“Why are you so sure they won’t just leave?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Minho finally responds, his tone steady but loaded with conviction. “Chefs need to know how to negotiate with the owners. Our souschef might look tough, but he’s a softie inside. He doesn’t have the backbone to stand firm. If he stays obedient, he’s going to get eaten alive by someone like that.”

He pauses, his grip tightening slightly. “Owners always push the blame back onto the chef. Even if you follow their orders to the letter, they won’t take care of you when things fall apart. That guy tonight—requesting some bizarre, last-minute order at midnight? He’s exactly that type. It’s not about the food with him; it’s about control.”

Minho’s voice lowers, but the intensity remains. “The real power struggle in a restaurant should be with the customer’s taste buds—not with the owner of the restaurant. Do you get it?”

You sit quietly, absorbing his words. Tonight suddenly makes so much more sense. This wasn’t just about the grilled lobster bisque; it was a test. The customer wanted to see what kind of chefs Minho and Seojun are. While Minho stood firm in his principles, Seojun seemed eager to comply without pushing back.

For a moment, you admire him in silence, impressed by his confidence and determination. But as the awe settles in, you can’t resist teasing him. “Still, I have to say… I like our owner’s taste.”

Minho’s head snaps toward you, his brows furrowing. “What?” he shrieks.

“I like Chris,” you say, a sly grin spreading across your face. “The more I see him managing the restaurant, the more I like him. He’s great.”

Minho slows the car as the light ahead turns red. He turns to you, his expression unreadable. “Come closer,” he says softly, his tone suddenly sweet.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

“Just come closer,” he coaxes, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

With a small, mischievous smirk of your own, you lean in, wondering what he’s up to. The second you’re close enough, he flicks your forehead with his finger—hard.

“Ow!” you yelp, jerking back as you cradle your forehead. “What was that for?”

Minho’s expression is deadpan, but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Shut your mouth,” he says bluntly, then shifts his focus back to the road as the light turns green.

You rub your forehead, pouting as you whine, “That hurts, chef.”

Minho doesn’t respond, but the corners of his mouth twitch upward, betraying the faintest of smirks.

-

The kitchen hums with the usual midday chaos, everyone focused on getting the last few lunch orders out. Pans sizzle, knives clatter against cutting boards, and the air is thick with the aroma of sauces and seared meats. You keep your head down at your station, working quickly to finish plating.

A service staff member steps in, calling out, “A customer wants to see the sous chef.”

Minho doesn’t even lift his head. He knows exactly who it is. His sharp gaze cuts across the kitchen, landing on Seojun, who hesitates for a moment. They share a silent exchange, and Minho gives a small, almost dismissive nod, granting permission.

From your station, you notice Seungwan and Hyunwoo exchanging a look, their smiles widening with excitement. They’re already celebrating in their heads, assuming Seojun is about to confirm their move to the new kitchen.

After service slows, you and Felix retreat to the locker room, escaping the heat and noise of the kitchen. You sit together on the small sofa—Felix lost in a game on his phone, headphones in, while you scroll through your own phone.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you start researching the new Italian restaurant that Seojun has been eyeing. It doesn’t take long for the pieces to fall into place—the owner of this restaurant also owns the hotel restaurant Minho took you to the other night. Everything suddenly makes sense.

You don’t say anything, though. The room starts filling with people—familiar voices drifting in as Seungwan and Hyunwoo enter, their excitement still palpable.

“They probably have state-of-the-art equipment,” Hyunwoo says, his tone brimming with enthusiasm.

“And a bigger kitchen,” Seungwan adds, practically glowing at the thought.

Taesoo chimes in, skeptical. “Are you two really thinking about leaving this kitchen?”

Felix finally glances up from his game, pulling out one earbud. “What are they talking about?” he whispers.

You hurriedly cover Felix’s mouth with your hand to stop him from talking. “Shh...”

The door opens again, and Seojun walks in. Seungwan and Hyunwoo practically pounce on him, bombarding him with questions about their supposed future kitchen.

Seojun clears his throat, his expression a mix of discomfort and apology. “The owner said... I’m not ready to be a head chef yet.”

The air shifts as Seungwan and Hyunwoo’s excitement fizzles into confusion.

“What?!” Seungwan blurts out. “Why would you make us think this was happening if it’s not?”

Hyunwoo crosses his arms, frowning. “Yeah, what was the point of all this?”

Seojun’s shoulders slump slightly, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, looking genuinely guilty. “I really thought it was going to happen. I didn’t mean to get your hopes up.”

You watch the scene unfold in silence, piecing everything together. Minho was right. Seojun may act tough, but inside, he’s soft and earnest—a far cry from the steely ambition that fuels most chefs. And yet, it’s that softness, that genuineness, that sets him apart.

-

Minho leans back against his desk, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, enjoying the rare moment of peace in his office. The faint hum of the kitchen filters through the closed door, but it’s a comforting background noise, a reminder of the controlled chaos he thrives in.

The knock on his door pulls him out of his thoughts. He isn’t expecting anyone, but he calls out, “Come in,” assuming it’s Felix, likely here to pester him with some nonsensical question or pointless chatter.

But when the door opens, it’s not who he expected—it’s Seojun.

Minho straightens slightly, surprised. Seojun steps inside, his hands clasped in front of him, his demeanor uncharacteristically hesitant. Minho studies him for a moment, noting the look in his eyes, the way he’s clearly turning something over in his head.

“What is it?” Minho asks, setting his coffee down on the desk. “Just say whatever’s on your mind.”

Seojun offers a soft smile before speaking. “Chef, what gave you the biggest push to become a head chef?”

Ah. So that’s where this is going. Minho smirks, recognizing the underlying intention. Seojun isn’t asking out of idle curiosity—he’s looking for direction, for some kind of encouragement.

Minho crosses his arms, his smirk deepening. “I had a nasty chef when I was a sous chef. Absolute piece of work. Thought he knew everything, never let anyone else have an opinion.”

Seojun looks at him with interest, clearly not expecting such a blunt answer.

“I endured it all,” Minho continues, his voice calm but firm, “because I wanted to be better than him. To prove to myself—and to him—that I could do it my way and do it better.”

He glances at Seojun, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

Seojun smiles sheepishly, shaking his head just enough to be noticed. “I should get back to work,” he says, his tone polite and respectful, but there’s a quiet determination in it.

Minho watches him leave, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He doesn’t need Seojun to say it outright—it’s clear he’s decided to stay. Minho knew Seojun wasn’t the type to jump ship easily.

As the door closes, Minho leans back against his desk again, his smirk softening into something almost thoughtful. If Seojun is going to stay, Minho will make sure he gets that push he’s looking for, whether he knows it or not.

But now, with the matter of the cooks settled, Minho’s thoughts shift to something else, something that’s been nagging at him. It’s time to deal with another issue that’s been bothering him—and this one isn’t work-related.

-

Minho strides confidently ahead, carrying a couple of bags over his shoulder while leaving you with the bulk of the load. The stairs creak under your feet as you haul the bags of food he made you carry, your arms aching with the weight.

"Where are we going?" you finally ask, trying not to sound as annoyed as you feel. It’s late, the air is cold, and you’re in a neighborhood you don’t recognize.

Minho glances over his shoulder, his face annoyingly nonchalant. "Just keep going," he says dismissively.

That’s it. You stop abruptly, dropping the bags onto the steps with a huff. "I’m tired," you whine, crossing your arms over your chest. "I’m not moving until you tell me where we’re going."

Minho sighs audibly and turns back, walking down a couple of steps to stand in front of you. "We’re taking care of someone," he says cryptically, his tone flat and unreadable.

Your eyes widen in horror, your mind immediately jumping to the worst conclusions. With Minho, it’s impossible to tell when he’s joking or being serious. "Taking care of someone?" you repeat, your voice an octave higher.

Minho doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he looks at you with an expression that’s halfway between amused and deadpan. Then, out of nowhere, he says, "Taesoo knows."

You blink at him, utterly confused. "Knows what?"

"About us," Minho replies, his voice low but calm. "About the kiss. In the kitchen."

Your stomach drops. You feel faint all of a sudden, your knees wobbling under you. "Why didn’t you tell me earlier?" you ask, your voice trembling as your panic rises.

Minho tilts his head slightly, his gaze sharp as he studies your reaction. "Are you scared?" he asks simply.

You nod meekly, unable to form words as your fear takes over. "What should we do? We got caught too fast..."

Minho smirks, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Don’t be scared," he says, stepping closer. "If the other cooks find out, we’ll just leave the earth together. But first—"

"First?" you echo nervously.

"We’ll sew Taesoo’s lips shut so he can’t tell anyone," Minho says matter-of-factly, as if it’s the most logical solution. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "You can be the thread, and I’ll be the needle. Together, we’ll make sure he stays quiet."

You stare at him, unsure if you should laugh, cry, or run for your life. His words do nothing to ease your anxiety, and the amused look on his face only makes you more uneasy.

"Chef…" you start hesitantly, but the words die in your throat.

He steps back, his smirk widening as he gestures for you to pick up the bags. "Come on," he says, as if he didn’t just suggest something completely unhinged. "We’re almost there."

Still uneasy, you grab the bags reluctantly, your mind racing with questions. Whatever Minho has planned, you’re not sure you’re ready for it.

-

The rooftop feels colder than you anticipated, the crisp night air wrapping around you like a thin sheet of frost. The lights in Taesoo’s apartment are out, and after knocking on the door a few times to no response, you and Minho are left to wait. You sit together on a weathered wooden bench outside, the city sprawling below you. The view is breathtaking, the glow of city lights mimicking the stars above, both twinkling in their own rhythm.

You scoot closer to Minho, partly for warmth, partly because the moment feels intimate in a way you can't quite put into words. Your shoulder brushes against his, and the contact grounds you. The silence stretches on, comfortable but heavy with unspoken thoughts. You decide to break it.

“Chef,” you start softly, your breath forming faint clouds in the cold air. “Working in your kitchen, I’m more afraid of disappointing you as a cook than anyone finding out about… us.”

Minho’s gaze shifts to you, his sharp eyes softening slightly in the dim light. Encouraged, you continue, “I can take the scoldings, the whispering, all of it. But I don’t want to lean on you when I’m not good enough. I don’t want to be the weak link in your kitchen.”

You look down at your hands, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you’ve made yourself. But then you glance up at him and press on. “I like you and I want to lean on you, but I also want to stand on my own. It’s just… so hard to stand on my own sometimes.”

He smirks, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that infuriating, teasing way of his. “If it’s that hard, should we just give up?”

You know he’s joking, but you still pout at his words. “We haven’t even done anything yet!” you protest.

Minho raises an eyebrow, amused. “What haven’t we done?”

Instead of answering, you throw the question back at him. “What have we done?”

He clicks his tongue, leaning back against the bench. “What is it you want to do, then?”

“Everything,” you reply without hesitation.

“Everything, huh?” he repeats, his tone light but his gaze lingering on you. “You sure about that?”

“Everything,” you confirm, crossing your arms stubbornly.

Minho chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “Fine, let’s do everything. But we’re going to be pretty busy sneaking around the kitchen.”

You burst out laughing, the sound ringing out into the quiet night. Without thinking, you playfully punch his chest, and Minho counters by wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. His voice drops to a low murmur, teasing, “Doing it in the freezer is that what you’re saying?”

The bubble of your shared laughter is suddenly burst when Taesoo appears, his voice cutting through the moment like a knife. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he says dramatically as he plops himself down between you and Minho, forcing you apart.

Minho glares at him, his irritation evident. “Where the hell have you been? Do you know how long we’ve been waiting?”

But Taesoo cups his hands around his mouth and shouts loudly enough for the whole city to hear, “Chef Lee is dating in the kitchen!”

Minho claps his hands mockingly, clearly unimpressed. “Louder. Let the entire neighborhood know.”

Taesoo grins and obliges, shouting even louder, “CHEF LEE IS DATING IN THE KITCHEN!”

Minho leans back, shaking his head in mock exasperation before casually wrapping an arm around Taesoo’s neck. “Now that the world knows, you have to keep it to yourself in the kitchen.”

When Taesoo doesn’t respond immediately, Minho tightens his arm around his neck in a playful headlock. “Got it?”

“Y-yes, Chef!” Taesoo splutters, tapping out in defeat.

Taesoo settles down between you and Minho, a mischievous grin plastered on his face after his dramatic outburst. Minho loosens his grip around Taesoo’s neck and lets out a mock sigh. “You’re lucky I don’t kick you off this rooftop right now.”

Taesoo laughs, rubbing his neck theatrically. “Relax, Chef. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh, is it? After you just announced it like that?”

Taesoo grins wider but then glances at you, his playful demeanor softening just a touch. “I wouldn’t actually tell anyone, you know.”

Minho crosses his arms skeptically, but you lean in, curious. “Why not?” you ask gently.

Taesoo shrugs, looking uncharacteristically shy. “Because you’re the nicest to me in the kitchen. You’re the only one who treats me like I’m more than just a kitchen assistant. You talk to me like I matter, and... I’d feel bad if I went around blabbing about your business.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you blink at him for a moment before smiling warmly. “Taesoo... thank you. That really means a lot.”

Minho looks between the two of you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “Well,” he says after a beat, his tone still teasing but less sharp, “I guess you’ve got one redeeming quality after all.”

“Only one?” Taesoo shoots back, grinning again.

You laugh, pulling out the food you brought and setting it on the bench between you. “Alright, enough with the compliments or Taesoo’s head won’t fit through the door. Let’s eat before everything gets cold.”

The three of you dig into the impromptu feast, the atmosphere light and comfortable. You feel relieved to know that only the three of you know about this secret, oh and maybe the billion of stars blinking at the night sky tonight. But you can count on them to keep it safe for you too.

-

The faint light of dawn paints the horizon in soft golds and pinks, bathing the streets in a tranquil glow. Minho grips the steering wheel loosely as he drives home, feeling uncharacteristically light. Tonight had been... cathartic, in a way he hadn’t expected, and now, as the city slowly stirs to life, he feels at peace for the first time in weeks.

He doesn’t need to glance to his right to know you’ve fallen asleep in the passenger seat. The steady rise and fall of your breathing fills the quiet car, a soothing rhythm that matches the calm of the morning. Minho allows himself a rare smile, pleased to see you resting after such a long day.

When he pulls into his parking spot, he cuts the engine and sits there for a moment, glancing over at you. Strands of hair have fallen across your face, and without thinking, Minho leans over, brushing them aside with a featherlight touch. Your face is serene, lost in some peaceful dream, and for a brief moment, he’s tempted to let you stay like this. But he knows it’s not good for you to sleep in the car too long.

“Wake up,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “We're here.”

Your forehead creases as your eyes flutter open, a sleepy haze still clouding your gaze. Minho watches as you try to orient yourself, finding it strangely endearing. Gently, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“What time is it?” you mumble, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Early,” Minho replies simply, his lips quirking upward at the corners.

You blink a few times, then, in your drowsy state, ask, “What do you usually do at this hour?”

He chuckles lightly. “Wash up, hit the gym, sometimes I have breakfast... sometimes I don't.”

That earns a small laugh from you. “Same,” you say with a little grin, as though you’ve uncovered some shared secret.

Minho shakes his head, amused. “It doesn’t take much to make you happy, does it?”

You roll your eyes but smile back, the kind of smile that lingers. “I just think it’s nice we have something in common.”

“Well, if it makes you this happy,” Minho teases, “should we have breakfast today?”

The offer takes you by surprise, and you tilt your head at him, curiosity glinting in your eyes. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” he replies coolly, leaning back in his seat. “Come over later. We’ll have breakfast together.”

You hesitate, your brows knitting together slightly as though unsure if he means it.

“Come on,” Minho coaxes, his tone playful now. “Make breakfast with me. I want to see if you can cook something other than pasta.”

Your lips twitch into a sassy smile as you shoot him a side-eye glance. “I can cook plenty of things besides pasta, thank you very much.”

“Good.” He smirks, satisfied. “Then come over and prove it. We’ll head to work together after.”

Your hesitation melts away, replaced by a shy but bright smile that warms something in Minho’s chest. “Okay,” you agree softly.

Minho plays it cool, gesturing toward the door. “Alright, get out of my car. You’re drooling on the upholstery.”

You laugh and swat at him lightly before stepping out, still smiling as you close the door behind you. Minho watches as you walk away, unable to help the small smile that lingers on his own face.

-

There’s no time to waste once you step into your apartment. Dropping your bag onto your bed, you head straight to the bathroom, craving the refreshing wake-up of a quick shower. The water washes away the weariness of the long night, and when you emerge, you feel lighter and more alert.

Stepping out, you spot Sara already dressed, her appearance neat and polished despite the early hour. She glances up and smiles faintly at you.

“Good morning,” she greets softly.

You return her smile, wrapping your towel tighter around you. “Morning. You’re up early.”

She hesitates, then says, “Can I have a word with you?”

Something about her tone makes you pause, but seeing no harm in it, you nod. “Sure. Let me just—”

“Here,” she interrupts, pouring coffee into a mug and offering it to you.

You accept it with a quiet “Thanks” and follow her to the living room. The air feels heavier than it should for such an ordinary start to the day.

Sara settles into the couch, taking a slow sip of her coffee. You mirror her, letting the warmth seep into your hands as you wait. She doesn’t speak immediately, and you realize she’s stalling. Her smile is polite but thin, her eyes flitting between you and the coffee in her hands.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “Where were you and Minho coming back from?”

Her question catches you off guard. Your heart skips as you realize she must have seen you together—either in the parking lot or in the car.

“Taesoo’s place. We had some food together,” you answer simply, careful to spare her the details.

Sara nods, her gaze briefly dropping to her mug. She takes another sip, prompting you to do the same.

“I think you already know,” she starts slowly, her voice laced with hesitation, “that Minho and I didn’t just study together in Italy.”

You say nothing, sensing she isn’t looking for a response.

“We were... deeply in love,” she continues, her words steady now, as if she’s rehearsed them. “We were in a relationship. Rivals, yes, but also partners. We had dreams of becoming chefs in Italy together.”

She pauses, her eyes scanning your face. You remain quiet, cradling the mug in both hands as if its warmth could shield you from the vulnerability of the moment.

“But I made a mistake,” she admits, her voice softer. “I was greedy, and I lost him.”

Her gaze hardens slightly as she leans forward. “But Minho... he’s the only man I’ve ever wanted to be accepted by. As a chef. And as a woman.”

You feel your chest tighten as her words sink in. She’s not just baring her past—she’s staking her claim.

“And earlier,” Sara adds, her voice sharper now, “I saw the same look on your face.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and she presses on.

“I wanted to ask sooner,” she confesses, “but I was cautious. We work together. Live together. But now, I have to ask—do you like Minho?”

Her gaze pierces through you. “Is that how you feel, or am I mistaken?”

Your heart races, but you force yourself to stay composed and hold her gaze firmly as you answer, “No. You’re not mistaken at all.”

The confidence in your voice surprises even you. You’ve suspected for a while now that Sara’s return wasn’t just about proving herself as a chef but also about rekindling something with Minho. And while you don’t owe her an explanation, it feels like she’s doing this on purpose—To mess with your head.

Sara blinks, her expression faltering for a split second before she nods slowly. “Ah, I see,”

She opens her mouth to say something else—probably to cut you down—but you don’t give her the chance.

“I'm sorry but I need to get ready for work,” you say briskly, standing up. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Without waiting for a response, you head to your bedroom, closing the door firmly behind you but it seems like Sara is already succeed on messing with your head.

-

Minho leans against the counter in his apartment, staring at the now-cold plates of food he had meticulously prepared. The aroma of the breakfast he’d been looking forward to had faded hours ago, replaced by an unsettling quiet that seemed to echo his disappointment. He had waited long enough, but you never showed.

Sitting alone, Minho ate in silence, each bite more hollow than the last. Your absence lingered in his mind, nagging at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Did something go wrong? Did he misread the situation? His chest tightened at the thought that something might have happened to you.

Now at the restaurant, Minho stands in the hall, his arms crossed as he keeps an ear out for the sound of footsteps. When he finally hears them, his heart skips—but it’s only Taesoo. The younger man approaches, his usual meek demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic confidence. They exchange a knowing glance, and Taesoo silently zips his mouth shut with a gesture. Minho nods in acknowledgment, watching as Taesoo disappears into the locker room without another word.

Still, Minho stays where he is, debating whether to call you. Then, finally, he hears more footsteps coming up the stairs. His heart leaps, and he straightens up as you appear at the top. But something’s different.

The brightness he’s grown used to seeing in your face is gone, replaced by a faint scowl that unsettles him. Your shoulders are tense, and your expression is clouded, as though a storm is brewing behind your eyes.

Minho’s heart sinks further when you don’t even glance his way, heading straight for the locker room as if he doesn’t exist.

“Hey, you!” He calls, his voice steady despite the unease creeping into his chest.

You stop but don’t turn to face him until his fingers gesture for you to come closer. Reluctantly, you obey, stepping forward without meeting his eyes.

Lowering his voice, Minho asks, “Why didn’t you come over for breakfast?”

You stare at him, your silence louder than any words could be. There’s something raw in your eyes—something that makes his stomach twist.

“What’s wrong?” he presses, his tone softer now. “Did something happen? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?”

Your voice is quiet but sharp as you reply, “Yes. Someone did hurt me.”

Minho straightens, alarm flashing across his face. “Who?” he demands, his voice firm. “Who hurt you?”

You look at him, your gaze cutting like a blade. “You did.”

The words hit him like a slap. His eyes widen in disbelief.

“Me?” he shrieks, his voice higher than intended. “When did I—what are you talking about?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you mutter something under your breath—too low for him to catch—then clamp your mouth shut, as though the words are too dangerous to say aloud.

Before Minho can ask again, you punch him square in the chest. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to startle him.

“What the—” Minho stares at you, flabbergasted.

“You deserved that,” you say, your voice trembling with something he can’t place—anger, hurt, or maybe both.

Before he can recover, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing there in stunned silence.

Minho watches you go, his chest still stinging—not from the punch, but from the sharp, cutting weight of your words. He stands frozen, replaying everything in his mind and if something wrong happened in between this morning and now.

-

Minho stands at the chef’s table, surveying the bustling kitchen as the lunch service begins. The usual energy fills the air, but his eyes are drawn to you. Your glum expression hasn’t changed since you walked into the restaurant this morning, and it’s unsettling.

Pushing personal concerns aside, Minho claps his hands to gather the kitchen’s attention. “Listen up! It’s graduation and admission season, which means family gatherings are in full swing. People want separate pasta dishes rather than full-course meals, so expect an overload of pasta orders today.”

The staff murmurs their acknowledgment, and Minho continues. “Pasta line will handle all the orders without help from entrée chefs unless absolutely necessary. It won’t be easy, but I trust you’ll manage.”

The kitchen erupts into motion as the first few orders come through. Minho shouts them out, and the organized chaos begins. As predicted, pasta orders flood in, pushing the pasta line to their limit.

You approach Minho’s chef’s table, placing two plates in front of him. “How many more?” he asks, inspecting the dishes.

“I still have four more after this, Chef,” you reply, your tone distracted.

Sara steps up, placing her plates on the table. “I’m done with my orders,” she announces, glancing at Minho. “Give me orders!”

Minho nods and redirects some of your orders to Sara, sending you back to your station. But as he observes you, it’s clear that something is off. Your movements are out of rhythm, uncharacteristically sloppy. Clams slosh out of your pan and onto the floor.

“You!” Minho snaps, his voice cutting through the clamor. “Did the clams come all the way here just to dive onto the kitchen floor?”

“I’m sorry, chef” you mumble, quickly picking up the pace.

But it doesn’t get better. Your cooking remains erratic, and Minho’s patience wears thin. He strides over to you and extends his hand. “Give it to me,” he orders, eyeing the pan.

You shake your head, gripping the handle tightly. “I’ll do it, Chef. I'll do it myself.”

Minho stares at you, his frustration mounting. “Do it right, then,” he mutters, stepping back to watch.

When you finally place the dish on his table, Minho takes one look and frowns. The pasta glistens with an unappetizing sheen, and the clams sit lifelessly atop it. He picks up a fork, poking at the dish before placing it down with a sharp clink.

“What’s the matter with you?” he demands, his voice rising. “The pasta and oil aren’t emulsified. Your hands and your mind aren’t working together—just like this dish. Now, what’s wrong with you?”

The kitchen falls silent. All eyes are on you as you stand there, head bowed. Minho’s stomach twists, guilt creeping in despite his annoyance.

“I’m sorry, chef” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I’ll do it again.”

“No,” Minho says firmly. He turns to Sara. “Take over the rest of her orders. Total of six, go!”

You nod, defeated, and return to your station. Minho watches as you scrape the failed dish into the trash, the weight of his scolding visible in the slump of your shoulders.

He sighs and calls you back to the chef’s table. You approach hesitantly, clasping your hands in front of you.

“Do you know why we stir these clam shells in the frying pan when we can't even eat them? You think we put in those shells that are ten times their size so we can eat the tiny bit of clam in them?” Minho begins, keeping his tone steady. “It is to keep the clam juice inside the shell. As it opens up, it should release fresh clam juice. For that reason, you have to stir at the same speed with the same strength so that all clams get cooked and opens up simultaneously. That is the key to make vongole.”

You nod but don’t meet his gaze.

“Aren't you going to answer me?” Minho presses.

“Yes, chef,” you reply softly, still avoiding his eyes.

The meekness in your voice is jarring, so unlike your usual spirited self. Minho waves you back to your station, but the sight of your retreating figure only deepens his confusion. What in the world is going on with you?

-

Minho’s head is already swimming with frustration as he walks toward Chris’s office after the dinner service. The last thing he wants is another conversation with the restaurant’s manager, but the summons was clear. He drags his feet, feeling the weight of the long day pulling at his shoulders.

Reaching the door, Minho knocks half-heartedly and waits until Chris’s voice grants him permission to enter. He steps in to find Chris tidying up his desk, moving stacks of papers into neat piles.

“Please, have a seat,” Chris says, gesturing to the sofa across the room as he joins Minho there.

Minho sits, his patience thin, and looks at Chris expectantly.

Chris wastes no time. The second he's seated on the sofa across from him, he asks, “How do you feel about sharing the chef’s office with Sara starting tomorrow?”

Minho’s brow furrows, the question catching him off guard. “Is that an order?” he asks flatly.

Chris leans forward, clasping his hands together. “Sara’s a chef, just like you. I don’t think it’s right for her to share a room full of guys who clearly don’t make her feel welcome. It’s only fair she has a better environment to work in.”

Minho doesn’t hesitate. “I don’t want to.”

Chris blinks, surprised by the blunt rejection. “It’ll help you two work better together. Sharing the space will make communication easier and—”

“I don’t want to,” Minho interrupts firmly, his voice low but resolute.

Chris leans back, exhaling in exasperation. “Sara deserves the same respect and facilities as any other chef. She has every right to use that office. Am I the one not making sense here?”

Minho leans forward, his eyes sharp as he looks around Chris’s spacious office. “Your office is nice and big,” he remarks, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Why don’t you bring Sara here instead? Let her share this space with you. Or is this really about what’s best for her? Maybe it’s more about what’s best for you.”

Chris’s face tightens, but he doesn’t respond immediately. Minho stands, brushing off invisible lint from his jacket.

“You can start by being honest about that,” Minho says coldly, heading toward the door.

“Chef,” Chris calls out, his tone final. “You’ll be sharing the room with Sara starting tomorrow.”

Minho doesn’t stop walking, his hand gripping the door handle. Without looking back, he steps out of the office and into the hallway.

Chris can insist all he wants, but Minho isn’t going to give in easily.

-

The parking lot is quiet, with only the faint hum of distant cars breaking the silence. Minho walks briskly toward his car, his thoughts scattered. He tries to focus on the day ahead tomorrow, but his mind drifts back to you—your distant expression, your unsteady hands, your reluctance to meet his gaze. He shakes his head, frustrated with himself for letting it bother him so much.

Just as he turns a corner, he spots you. Sitting on the steps leading to the dining hall, you’re hunched forward, your shoulders slightly slumped as if the weight of the day is pressing down on you.

Minho’s steps slow instinctively. Before he knows it, he’s approaching you. He stops three steps away and clears his throat to make his presence known.

Your head snaps back, startled, and then you quickly bow slightly. “Thank you for your hard work today, Chef,” you say, your tone polite but distant.

Minho clicks his tongue softly. He’s used to this—your tendency to put up a professional front when there’s something deeper bothering you. He sits on the steps, his posture relaxed, but his gaze fixed on you.

“Are you upset because I scolded you earlier?” he asks, his voice steady but probing. “It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve been yelled at.”

You sigh, your gaze dropping to your hands. “It’s not just that,” you admit quietly. “Getting scolded... hurts my pride now.”

Minho tilts his head slightly, clicking his tongue again. “That’s a good thing,” he says, as if it’s obvious.

You glance at him, frowning slightly, but you continue. “It feels even worse now because... it felt like I was being compared to Chef Sara. Like I’ll never measure up.”

Understanding dawns on Minho, and he nods subtly. He remembers those days—when he was the one being compared, his pride crushed over and over until he thought he’d break.

He leans forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. “Getting your pride hurt is how you get better,” he says, his voice firm but not unkind. “If you just think your seniors are naturally better than you, you’ll never improve. Not in a million years.”

You look at him, your lips slowly curling into a faint smile.

“Being compared to someone better than you is what pushes you to catch up,” Minho continues. “And trust me, you will catch up. But you’ll only get there if you let that comparison push you, not break you.”

Your smile widens a little, and Minho feels a small sense of satisfaction. “From tomorrow on,” he warns with a smirk, “I’m going to compare you to Sara even more. I’m going to crush your pride even worse.”

Despite his words, your smile grows wider, your eyes softening as you look at him. “Yes, Chef,” you say softly, the words carrying a warmth that lingers in the air.

Minho moves down the steps, sitting next to you now. His voice lowers, the usual sharpness replaced by something more intimate. “Just because I like you doesn’t mean anything changes,” he says quietly. “You’ll still have to swallow your pride. More than ever.”

Your gaze flicks to him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yes, Chef,” you repeat, and Minho chuckles softly at the words he’s grown to love hearing from you.

Silence falls between you, but it’s the comfortable kind. The night air is cool, and the world around you feels distant, like it’s just the two of you in this moment.

After a while, you break the silence, your voice soft. “Having your pride wounded... is that really a good thing?”

Minho glances at you, his smirk returning. “Yes,” he says simply. “When you’re in trouble or your pride’s hurt, don’t get sad. Get even. Stand up tall and be jealous—it’s better than wilting like a dead plant.”

You chuckle softly, the sound light and genuine. “Yes, Chef.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “What did I tell you to be?”

“To be jealous,” you reply, your smile growing.

“That’s right,” Minho says, his signature smirk deepening.

Silence falls again, but this time, it feels even more intimate. The tension between you is almost palpable, and when you turn to him again, your eyes meet his.

“I’m going to become a chef you can be proud of,” you say, your voice filled with quiet determination.

Minho’s chest tightens at your words, a wave of affection crashing over him. The sincerity in your eyes, the way you want to make him proud—it’s endearing, almost too much to bear.

If you weren’t here, at the restaurant, he’d kiss you right here, right now. Instead, he reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around your writst.

“It's cold. Let’s go home, mmh?” he says softly, standing and pulling you to your feet. You follow without hesitation, your hand still in his as Minho takes you home.

-

The moment the door to Minho’s apartment clicks shut behind you, the air between you shifts, charged with tension that had been simmering for weeks. You barely have time to glance around his apartment before Minho steps closer, his dark eyes fixed on yours.

“Finally,” he mutters, his voice low and rough with impatience.

Before you can respond, his hands cup your face, and his lips crash onto yours with a fiery intensity. The kiss is urgent, almost desperate, as if he’s been holding himself back for too long. Your hands instinctively clutch at his shirt, gripping the fabric as his lips move against yours, soft yet insistent.

Minho’s fingers slide down to your waist, tugging you closer until there’s no space left between you. His touch is firm but gentle, his hands warm as they settle on your hips. He pulls back for a fraction of a second, his breath mingling with yours as he stares at you, his pupils blown wide.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back,” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper.

Before you can reply, he bends slightly and scoops you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. You gasp softly, your arms wrapping around his neck for balance as he carries you to the sofa.

Minho lowers you onto the cushions with care but doesn’t waste a second before leaning over you, his hands framing your face as he captures your lips again. This time, the kiss is deeper, hungrier, and you respond with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair.

The heat between you is palpable, every touch and kiss filled with emotions he’s kept bottled up—desire, affection, frustration, and something deeper he hasn’t yet put into words. His lips trail down your jawline, leaving a scorching path as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

Your breaths come faster, your heart pounding as his hands roam, his touch leaving sparks in its wake. Minho pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze intense and filled with an emotion that makes your stomach flip.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispers, his voice barely above a growl.

You shake your head, breathless, and he leans in again, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that’s softer this time but no less consuming. His hands find yours, intertwining your fingers as he presses you deeper into the sofa.

Every kiss, every touch feels like a confession, a way for Minho to pour out all the feelings he’s been holding back. And as you kiss him back, just as fervently, you let him know without words that you feel the same.

-

Minho hovers over you, his eyes roaming your face, drinking in every detail. Your flushed cheeks, the slight parting of your lips, the way your chest rises and falls rapidly—it’s enough to drive him mad. Slowly, deliberately, his hands move to your shirt, fingers brushing your skin as he lifts it over your head and tosses it aside.

His breath hitches as he takes in the sight of you, his lips curving into a faint smirk. His hands move with purpose, tracing over your shoulders and down your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his fingers find the clasp of your bra, he pauses, his gaze flickering to yours for permission. The soft nod you give him is all he needs. With practiced ease, he unhooks it, sliding the straps down your arms and discarding it.

Once the bra is out of the way, Minho glides his hands up to your ribcage and moves them to the side to cup your soft mound, fingers lightly rubbing the hardening buds, but his eyes... they remain locked with yours. They're dark and wide, filled with lust.

You mirror his movements, your fingers fumbling slightly as you unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders to reveal the taut muscles of his chest. Your touch is hesitant at first, but as your hands run over his warm skin, Minho lets out a low hum, his eyes darkening with desire.

Piece by piece, the barrier of clothing between you disappears. Minho watches you with a mix of admiration and hunger, his hands grazing your bare skin, memorizing every curve, every dip.

He leans in, his lips pressing softly against your collarbone. From there, he works his way down, leaving a trail of kisses along your skin, each one lingering longer than the last. When his lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, you gasp, your fingers tightening on his shoulders.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice possessive as he leaves a mark there, a reminder of this moment.

Minho doesn’t stop there. His lips travel lower, over your chest, your stomach, your hips, your thighs... each kiss filled with reverence and passion. Every mark he leaves feels like a promise, a declaration of everything he can’t put into words.

“Mine, mine, mine,” that's all Minho can mutter with his lips pressed to your skin.

When he returns to your lips, his kisses are slower, deeper, as if he wants to savor every second. His hands cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he whispers your name.

“You are mine,” he says, his voice raw with emotion, before pressing his forehead to yours.

The next thing you know, your back resting on his chest, your legs parting open and Minho’s hand relentlessly touching, teasing your bundle of nerves. You're squirming against him, moans spilling out of your mouth and Minho tries his best to contain it by kissing you.

As you spill your release on his hand, you turn your head to the side and he immediately captures your lips in a hard, deep kiss that steals your breath away.

Swiftly, he turns you over, having you lying on your side next to him. His hand curves around your thigh before lifting your leg over his, allowing him the access to penetrate you from the back. His fingers have no problem finding your clit, applying gentle pressures on it as he pushes his length inside you. Your moans are low and sultry, the kind that he won’t get tired of hearing over and over again, spilling out from your mouth until he's fully sheathed inside you. He then pulls you close until your body molds into his, becoming one.

With gentle but deliberate movements, Minho guides you into a rhythm, his touch and kisses all-consuming. Every movement feels like an unspoken conversation, his body communicating what words can’t: desire, care, devotion.

In the quiet intimacy of his apartment, with only the sound of your breaths and the occasional murmured name, Minho makes love to you, pouring everything he feels into every kiss, every touch, every whispered word.

-

Minho pulls a blanket from the side of the sofa, unfolding it with careful hands. The fabric is soft and worn, a perfect cocoon for the two of you. He drapes it over your bodies, tucking it around your shoulders before settling back against the cushions. There isn’t much space on the sofa, but that’s what he likes about it. No gaps between you, no room for anything but closeness. Every small movement has your skin brushing against his, your warmth sinking into him.

As your chest rises and falls with each breath, Minho unconsciously syncs his breathing with yours. The rhythm is soothing, intimate, as though your bodies are speaking their own language. Your head rests on his chest, one hand folded beneath your chin, and he can feel the softness of your eyelashes grazing his skin whenever you shift slightly.

“Hey,” he calls softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tilt your head up, your eyes locking with his almost immediately. For a moment, he forgets what he was going to say, caught in the quiet brilliance of your gaze. His hand lifts to brush his hair back, steadying himself before he continues.

“From now on,” he begins, his tone even and measured, “I’m going to scold you non-stop in the kitchen.”

You blink at him, waiting for more.

“That way,” he adds, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “no one will get suspicious about us.”

A smile blooms on your face, and you nod. “Yes, Chef.”

Minho chuckles softly. “When I scream at you, just remind yourself—it’s my way of showing affection, okay?”

You nod again, that playful glint in your eye as you reply, “Yes, Chef.” But then, after a pause, you tilt your head, your lips quirking into a teasing smile. “So… the more you scream, the stronger your affection?”

Minho’s smirk deepens, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Exactly.”

You giggle, the sound light and infectious, and he can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at how easily he can amuse you. Your hand reaches up, fingers gently curling under his chin as you hold his face still.

“What about when you’re being nice?” you ask, your tone soft but teasing. “Does that mean you don’t like me then?”

“No,” Minho shakes his head, his gaze steady. “It means I like you too,” he answers simply.

You giggle again, your face lighting up as you lean closer. “So basically, you’re going to show me affection all day long.”

A smile breaks across his face, warm and genuine. “That’s right,” he says, his voice dropping slightly. “I’m going to shower you with so much affection, you won’t even have time to complain. And if all that love and affection doesn’t make you better, then you’re in serious trouble.”

His eyes lock onto yours, an intensity in his gaze that makes your breath hitch. “Got it?”

Your lips curve into a smile as you answer in that soft, melodic tone he’s come to adore. “Yes, Chef.”

The way you say it melts something in him, because to him, it's not just an expression of obedience but also devotion, and before he can stop himself, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, tender at first, but he pulls away for only a second before diving back in, capturing your lips in a long, lingering kiss.

When he finally breaks away, it’s only to pull you closer, tucking you firmly against him. The two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, until sleep gently claims you both.

-

You step out of the bedroom, still stretching the remnants of sleep from your limbs, and head toward the kitchen. The comforting hum of the coffee machine fills the quiet apartment as you prepare to make your morning coffee.

The front door creaks open, and Sara walks in, looking flushed and energized, like she’s just finished a workout. You offer her a polite smile and a soft, “Good morning.”

She returns the smile, her expression kind but guarded. “Good morning.”

“Coffee?” you ask, gesturing toward the machine.

Sara shakes her head. “No, thanks.” She moves to the other side of the counter, grabbing herself a glass of water.

For a moment, the kitchen is quiet, the only sound the faint gurgling of the coffee machine. Sara breaks the silence, her voice measured but clear. “I thought about what I said to you yesterday—whether it was wrong to tell you.” She pauses, taking a sip of water. “But now that I’ve said it, I think it was the right thing to do.”

You slowly turn to face her, leaning back against the counter as you meet her gaze. The warmth of the brewing coffee lingers in the air, grounding you.

“Thank you,” you say, your tone calm but sincere. “For being honest with me. For telling me the truth.”

Sara’s lips curve into a faint smile, and she takes a step closer, though she’s careful to maintain a respectful distance.

“I think the only way to do this is for us to do things our way,” she says, her voice steady and confident. “And because I promised Minho when I came to Farfalle that I’d be fair, I’ll only play fair and be honest—in everything. Including in getting him back.”

Her words are bold, but there’s no malice in her tone. It’s a simple declaration, as straightforward as a chef presenting a dish: no frills, no pretenses.

You tilt your head slightly, listening intently. There’s something admirable in her directness, her willingness to lay everything bare without disguising her intentions.

“If not,” she continues, her gaze unwavering, “then this victory wouldn’t mean anything to me.” She takes another sip of her water, her expression unreadable. “What do you think?”

You can see it now, the unspoken challenge in her words—a duel not fought with knives and flames in the kitchen, but with hearts and intentions.

You allow a small smile to form, meeting her eyes with a steady gaze. “Okay.”

Your single-word response hangs in the air, an agreement, an acceptance of the unspoken competition between you. Sara nods slightly, her expression firm but not hostile.

And as the coffee machine beeps, signaling your cup is ready, you can’t help but feel a quiet determination settling in your chest. Sara might be better in the kitchen than you but you’re competing for a whole different thing now and you're ready for it.

-

Minho’s good mood evaporates the moment he steps into his office and finds two members of the service staff maneuvering a desk through the doorway. His eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of them positioning it into the corner of the already cramped space.

“What are you doing?” Minho snaps, his voice sharp enough to make the workers pause mid-action.

“The manager told us to move this in here,” one of them answers hesitantly, gesturing toward the desk.

Minho clenches his jaw, the muscles in his neck tightening. He distinctly remembers telling Chris he didn’t want to share his office, but it seems like Chris doesn’t care about what he wants.

Storming out of the room, Minho makes a beeline for Chris’s office, his steps quick and deliberate. Before he gets there, though, he spots Chris in the dining hall, clipboard in hand, inspecting the setup.

Minho stops in front of him, crossing his arms. “I told you I don’t want to share the office,” he says, his tone low but laced with irritation.

Chris looks up, meeting Minho’s intense gaze without flinching. “And I told you this was going to happen.” His voice is calm, almost infuriatingly so.

Chris doesn’t back down, holding Minho’s stare with equal intensity. “Why are you being so narrow-minded?”

Minho’s jaw tightens further. “Why are you narrowing my space?”

The two engage in a fiery standoff, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. Minho feels his patience wearing thin, his frustration bubbling dangerously close to the surface. If this goes on any longer, he knows he’ll explode.

Without another word, Minho turns on his heel and storms away, opting for a different tactic. If Chris won’t listen, maybe Sara will.

He heads to the kitchen and spots her near the stock station, carefully stirring a pot of broth. Minho stops in his tracks, his frustration momentarily replaced by a flicker of professional instinct. The kitchen has been having issues with the stock lately, and he knows it needs to be addressed.

Deciding to step back, Minho retreats to his office and pulls out his phone. He fires off a quick text to Felix, asking him to meet in the office to discuss it.

A few minutes later, Felix strides into the office, his usual laid-back demeanor intact. He stands in front of Minho, hands in his pockets, waiting for him to speak.

Minho leans back in his chair, folding his arms. “We need to make a decision about this stock problem. Either we give in to Sara’s way, or she gives in to ours.”

Felix doesn’t hesitate, his answer immediate. “It's only right if she gives in. That was the only possible conclusion from the start.”

Minho raises an eyebrow at the certainty in Felix’s voice.

Felix shrugs. “If I thought I was going to give in, I wouldn’t have left the kitchen in the first place. I stand by what I said.”

Minho takes that in, nodding slightly. “Do you like the taste?”

Felix pulls a face, cringing dramatically. “It’s not that good, and I didn’t like it at all. Honestly, she’s just trying to win the power struggle.”

Minho nods again, this time slower, as if processing Felix’s words. “Alright,” he says, dismissing Felix with a slight wave of his hand.

Felix leaves without another word, and Minho leans back in his chair, staring at the desk that now occupies the corner of his office. He needs space—not just physically, but mentally—to figure out how to deal with both the office and the stock problem. But regardless of that, Minho has a feeling that Sara will still win, one way or another.

-

You finish tying the knot on your apron as you step out of the locker room, ready to start your shift. The sound of hurried footsteps behind you is your only warning before Felix grabs your arm, practically dragging you toward the kitchen.

"Felix, what—" you begin, stumbling slightly to keep up, but he interrupts you, speaking in a hushed tone.

"Chef asked me about Sara’s stock earlier," he says, his voice urgent. "And I, uh, might have told him I tasted it."

You stop dead in your tracks, eyes widening in horror. "What?! You lied about tasting it?"

Felix pulls you forward again, muttering, "It’s not lying if I already know what chicken stock tastes like."

"Felix!" you hiss, your voice rising slightly in panic. "That’s a fatal mistake! You know how thorough Chef is—how could you mess that up?"

"I panicked, okay?" Felix defends himself as the two of you step into the kitchen. "And it’s not like I’m completely wrong. Chicken stock is chicken stock."

You let out a frustrated groan, heading straight for the stove where Sara’s pot of stock still sits. Grabbing a ladle, you pour some into a small bowl, taking a spoonful to taste. The flavor hits your palate, and your stomach drops.

"This… this isn’t chicken stock," you say, turning to Felix with wide eyes.

Felix leans closer, frowning. "What do you mean? It tastes like it."

"It’s not," you insist, setting the bowl down. "Come on, we need to test this properly."

The two of you set to work, comparing Sara’s stock with the vegetable stock the kitchen has been using. You each cook three pastas, pairing them with white, red, and cream-based sauces. Once everything is plated, you spread them across Minho’s chef’s table, ready to taste and compare.

First, you both try the white sauce pasta. You twirl a forkful around and take a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "It’s not bad," you admit, "but the wine in the sauce stands out more than the stock. It doesn’t blend as well."

Felix nods, echoing your observation. "Yeah, it’s… okay. But not groundbreaking."

Next, you move to the cream sauce. Felix takes a bite first, his expression neutral. "The cream’s so rich, it overpowers everything else," he says.

You taste it for yourself and nod in agreement. "Yeah, there’s barely a difference."

Finally, you both dig into the red sauce pasta. The moment the flavor hits your tongue, you and Felix exchange wide-eyed looks.

"Wow," you breathe, genuinely impressed.

Felix lets out a low whistle. "She was right. The stock brings out the tomatoes’ savoriness, and the aroma—it’s so much better."

He runs a hand through his bleached blonde hair, ruining his already messy bun, and groans. "We should’ve tasted this before deciding anything."

You immediately snap your head toward him. "We? You’re the one in trouble here, Felix. Don’t drag me into your mess again."

Felix pales, realization dawning on him. He grumbles, "If Chef finds out we objected without even tasting it first, he’s going to make us take our uniforms off."

You let out a long sigh, tasting more of the red sauce pasta as Felix spirals. "Let me correct you again—you’re the one who’s in trouble, not us and definitely not me."

Felix continues to grumble under his breath, but you’re too focused on the food in front of you. As much as you hate to admit it, you’re impressed with Sara. Despite everyone being against her, she didn’t back down—and she proved herself. You take another bite, silently marveling at how bold and unwavering she was. Whether you like it or not, she’s earned a little respect.

-

The lunch service begins with the usual chaos brewing in the air, the kind that buzzes with both adrenaline and tension. Sara strides confidently to her station, placing a container of her stock front and center as if it were her crown jewel. Felix lets out an audible scoff beside you, muttering under his breath, "We don’t even have space for that."

You can’t tell if he intended for Sara to hear, but she does. Her lips curl into a smirk as she turns her head slightly, saying with calm confidence, "Why don’t we just unify it into one stock? Though for now," she adds, "I’ll only be using it for my triple-flavored pasta."

Caught between them, you feel the tension simmering, and a nagging thought creeps in—Felix's truth, or rather his lie, is bound to come back and bite him at some point.

Minho’s commanding voice pulls everyone’s attention to the chef’s table. "It’s graduation day," he announces, his presence radiating authority. "There'll be a flood for pasta orders. I want you to move your pans so fast that they're just a blur to me. Are we ready?"

"Yes, Chef!" the kitchen replies in unison, and the hum of anticipation turns into a full-blown symphony as the first tickets begin to roll in. The energy shifts instantly as the kitchen comes alive, the sound of sizzling pans and clattering utensils filling the space.

As you juggle pans in both hands, Minho appears at your station, his sharp gaze locked on your movements. He watches silently for a moment before stepping closer, reaching out to hold your wrists. His hands guide yours as he says, "Keep the rhythm fast but steady."

It’s impossible to keep your heartbeat calm with his touch commanding so much of your focus, especially when it’s in full view of the bustling kitchen. You glance at him, your lips twitching into a sly smile.

"Yes, Chef," you manage to say, hoping your voice sounds steadier than you feel.

He nods, releasing your hands, but not before reminding you, "Use your wrist for balance," before moving to Felix’s station.

From the corner of your eye, you see Minho’s sharp instincts kick in the second he watches Felix work. "Add more sauce," Minho orders, his tone direct. Felix, flustered, grabs a ladle from the container but accidentally knocks the entire thing over. The vegetable stock spills onto the stove and cascades onto the floor in a steaming mess.

The room freezes for a split second before Minho’s voice cuts through the chaos like a whip. "What are you doing? Don't you know how busy we are right now?"

Felix stammers out an apology, scrambling to clean up, but Minho is already turning to Taesoo. "Taesoo, why are you just standing there? Get him more stock!"

Taesoo hesitates, his brows furrowing. "Chef… that was the last of the vegetable stock. I was planning to make more after lunch... during prep time."

Minho’s eyes flick to Sara’s pot of stock, then back to Taesoo. "What is that then?"

"That’s Chef Sara’s stock," Taesoo meekly answers.

Minho’s jaw tightens, conflicted. "Change the stock now!"

Taesoo stutters as he asks Minho for confirmation. "To Chef Sara’s stock?"

"Then are you going to cook the pasta without stock?" Minho snaps, his patience running thin.

Taesoo complies, placing the container in front of Felix, whose face pales as though he’s staring at a loaded gun. He glances at you, muttering something you can’t catch.

You glare at him and through your gritted teeth, you say, "Don’t look at me. You dug this hole. You deal with it."

Felix grimaces as he reluctantly dips the ladle into Sara’s stock and pours it into his pan. Minho, ever perceptive, notices the brief exchange between you two. Without hesitation, he steps in between, dipping his wooden spatula into Felix’s pan to taste.

His expression falters for a moment, and he immediately tastes the stock on its own. The room feels heavy with silence as Minho’s piercing gaze lands on Felix, daggers practically shooting from his eyes. You exhale quietly, grateful beyond words that it’s not you standing in Felix’s shoes right now.

-

The rooftop air bites with cold, sharp gusts of wind cutting through the stillness, but Minho’s anger burns hotter than the chill. Felix and Taesoo stand before him, Felix’s defiance cracking at the edges, while Taesoo’s confusion is written all over his face.

What pisses Minho off the most about this isn’t just about Felix lying about Sara’s stock, it's because Felix lied about something he asked for his genuine opinion on and Felix let his petty hatred for Sara cloud his judgment like that. Minho takes a deliberate, unrelenting step toward him. His voice is low but sharp, like the edge of a knife as he asks, “You lied about the taste and you call yourself a chef?”

Felix flinches, his jaw tightening, but says nothing. Minho presses on, his voice rising. “While Sara spent hours, days, perfecting her recipe—while she was working, what were you doing? Criticizing? Lying? Wasting my time?” His arms fold tightly across his chest. “Do you honestly think you deserve to make pasta if this is how you act?”

Felix opens his mouth to defend himself, but Taesoo suddenly raises his hand hesitantly, like a schoolboy caught off guard. “Chef, I don’t mean to interrupt, but… why am I here?”

Minho shoots him a glare that could freeze fire. “You’re here because you didn’t make enough stock in the first place! What kind of kitchen runs out of stock during lunch service, huh? You’re supposed to anticipate these things!”

Taesoo shrinks under the weight of the scolding, muttering, “Yes, Chef.”

Minho’s voice drops to an icy tone. “Both of you—take your uniforms off.”

Felix’s eyes widen, his face going pale. “Chef, are you firing me?” he asks, panic creeping into his voice. “I know I was wrong, but— I left everything and came back from Italy when you asked me for help. How could you fire me like this?”

“Who said I was firing you?” Minho cuts him off, his tone as sharp as a blade. “I said take off your uniforms. Now.”

Taesoo blinks, his confusion deepening. “But, Chef… it’s cold.”

“I don’t care if it’s freezing,” Minho snaps. “Take it off! NOW!!!”

Reluctantly, Felix starts undoing his necktie, while Taesoo removes his chef hat. Slowly, they unbutton their chef coats, the icy wind biting at their exposed skin. Minho watches them without flinching, his expression unyielding.

The rooftop door creaks open, and you step out, pausing to take in the bizarre scene. Felix and Taesoo are shivering, with nothing covering their upper half bodies, while Minho stands before them like a judge handing down a sentence. He doesn’t acknowledge your arrival.

“How does it feel to take your uniforms off? Do you like it?” Minho asks, his tone dripping with disdain.

“No, Chef,” they reply in unison, their voices shaky as they hug themselves.

“Do you want to keep them off and stop cooking?”

“No, Chef.”

Minho steps closer, his gaze piercing. “If I catch either of you pulling something like this again, I’ll make sure you’ll never put those uniforms back on. Understood?”

“Yes, Chef,” they answer, trembling in the cold.

After letting the silence hang for a moment, Minho delivers the final blow. “Each of you owes me 100 push-ups. Start now.”

Felix groans under his breath, but neither dares to protest. They drop to the ground, their voices echoing across the rooftop as they start counting their push-ups.

Minho finally turns to you, sitting on the bench. You wordlessly hand him a lollipop, which he takes with a small, amused smirk. For a while, the two of you sit there, savoring your lollipops as Felix and Taesoo struggle through their punishment.

You glance at Minho. “What are you going to do now, chef?”

He withdraw his lollipop out of his mouth and raises a brow at you. “What?”

You pull your lollipop out of your mouth, twirling it between your fingers. “You’re going to have to acknowledge Chef Sara’s stock now that the sauces tasted better with it.”

Minho narrows his eyes, though there’s a faint conflict in them. Before you can press further, he turns his attention back to Felix and Taesoo. “Count louder! I can’t hear you!”

Their voices rise, and Minho leans back, savoring the sweet taste of his lollipop that masks the bitterness on having to accept his defeat to Sara.

-

Minho’s fingers drum rhythmically against the empty desk in his office, the sound filling the silence. The restaurant had another successful day, but exhaustion hangs heavy over him, though his thoughts weigh even more. Your question keeps looping in his mind, gnawing at him. What are you going to do now?

He sighs, staring at the desk like it might provide an answer. It doesn’t. His finger tapping grows sharper, almost impatient, as he wrestles with his thoughts. He hates it—admitting someone else is right. But Sara was right about her stock, and as much as it grates him, Chris’s words echo too. She deserves the same respect as a chef.

After another moment of frustration, Minho lets out a resigned huff and pulls out his phone. He types a short text to Sara, his fingers moving quickly: "Meet me in my office."

It doesn’t take long before there’s a knock at the door. Minho straightens, pushing himself off the desk. “Come in,” he calls out.

Sara steps in, the faint smile on her lips betraying none of the exhaustion he feels. She approaches confidently, her posture relaxed yet professional, her eyes meeting his.

Minho leans back against the desk, crossing his arms. “Your stock is good,” he says simply, his tone steady but measured.

Her smile widens slightly, though she keeps her response modest. “Thank you, Chef. I just finished perfecting it yesterday.”

He nods. “How long did it take you to get it right?”

“A very long time,” Sara admits with a soft laugh, her voice lighter than he expects. “But I pushed through because…” She hesitates for a moment, then continues, “...because I had you beside me. It motivated me to do better.”

Minho stiffens slightly, the personal undertone in her words prickling at him. His gaze sharpens as he leans forward, making sure there’s no room for misinterpretation. “This has nothing to do with our personal lives,” he says firmly. “I hope all you want from me is to be accepted as a chef, and you deserve that. So let’s share it—the kitchen and the office. Let's do it together.”

To emphasize his point, Minho extends a hand toward her. “Chef Choi Sara,” he addresses her with deliberate formality.

Sara takes his hand without hesitation, her grip firm and her expression warm. “Thank you, Chef Lee Minho,” she replies just as professionally.

Their handshake is brief but significant, a silent agreement between them. Minho watches her closely, his jaw tight but his expression softening just slightly. He hopes she understands what this means—nothing more, nothing less. Just professionalism, for the sake of the kitchen.

He releases her hand and straightens his posture. “That’s all. You can go now.”

Sara nods, offering him one last small smile before turning to leave. As the door closes behind her, Minho exhales deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

He looks at the desk again, then shakes his head. This is the right decision, he tells himself. But as he moves to gather his things, a flicker of uncertainty lingers in the back of his mind.

-

The next morning, Minho steps into his office, pausing when he notices the subtle changes to the space. Sara’s desk, which was bare just yesterday, is now decorated. A small potted plant sits in one corner, a neatly arranged stack of books in another. The sight makes him purse his lips, though his attention is quickly drawn to the pile of books.

Curiosity wins out, and he picks the one on top, flipping it open. It’s Sara’s recipe book. The pages are filled with detailed sketches of dishes, annotations, and scribbled ideas in the margins. Despite himself, he’s impressed by the level of detail.

The door opens, and Minho looks up to see Sara stepping inside. Her gaze lands on him holding her book, and she tilts her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Planning to steal my ideas, Chef?”

He snaps the book shut and hands it back to her without hesitation. “Do whatever you want with it,” he says curtly, turning toward his desk.

Sara takes the book, setting it back on her pile. “Actually, I was thinking of sharing it with the cooks here.”

“Like I said,” Minho replies without looking at her, “do as you wish.”

Settling into her chair, Sara glances at him. “You should share your recipe book too, Chef.”

Minho lets out a dry scoff, shaking his head. “So you can copy my recipes? No thanks.”

Sara laughs lightly, unbothered by his sarcasm. “Well, I can’t say no to that offer.”

Minho shoots her a flat look. “I’m not sharing it.”

She shrugs, adjusting her chair and continues organizing her desk. “It might not be easy sharing an office at first, but we’ll get used to it.”

Minho raises an eyebrow at her, skepticism written all over his face. “I don’t see how it can be better than using the office by myself.”

Sara leans back, watching him with a faint smile. “Are you bothered by me, Chef?”

To be honest, yes, but Minho isn’t about to admit that. Thankfully, a knock on the door spares him from responding. “Come in,” he says.

The door creaks open, and Hyunwoo hesitantly steps inside, his expression uncertain. “May I… come in?”

Minho gestures for him to enter. “Sure. What is it, Hyunwoo?”

Hyunwoo shifts nervously but eventually speaks. “I wanted to ask if I could work in the pasta line.”

Minho exchanges a brief glance with Sara before focusing back on Hyunwoo. “What’s the reason?”

Hyunwoo looks down as he musters up the courage to honestly answer to the question. “I don’t know if I can become a chef with my background, but in the future, I dream of opening a small Italian restaurant to support my family.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “So you don’t want to make pasta because you love it, but because it’s a way to earn a living?”

Hyunwoo defends himself quickly. “Chef, being a chef is a profession. It’s not unreasonable to think that way. And pasta is one of the most popular dishes in Italian restaurants. I need experience if I want to succeed. But I noticed you only put your people in the important positions.”

Minho’s jaw tightens as he crosses his arms, offended by Hyunwoo’s words. “People who make good pasta get to make pasta. People who are good at grilling get to grill. That’s how it works.”

Hyunwoo avoid Minho’s gaze but his voice grows more determined. “All I’m asking for is a fair chance, Chef.”

Minho looks at Sara, who meets his gaze evenly. Finally, Minho turns back to Hyunwoo. “You may go.”

Hyunwoo bows slightly and leaves the office, closing the door behind him.

Once he’s gone, Sara lets out a sigh, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t like switching people around on the pasta line. It’s just now starting to run smoothly.”

Minho nods, considering her point. “Keeping people in their current roles could be a little selfish on our part, though.”

Sara tilts her head, studying him. “True. We should think about it and decide what’s best for the team.”

Minho leans back against his desk, arms crossed. His gaze lingers on Sara for a moment. This isn’t just about Hyunwoo, he realizes. It’s also a test of how well he and Sara can work together. And though he won’t say it out loud, that thought weighs heavier on him than he’d like to admit.

-

As everyone else is having lunch, you slip out of the restaurant to a café a few blocks down from the restaurant. This time, you glance around as you walk, making sure no one from the restaurant followed you this time. The memory of your last close call still makes you cringe to this day.

The café is quiet, a comforting hum of soft chatter and the occasional clink of cups filling the air. You sit at a small table tucked into the corner, the bag containing your surprise securely nestled in your lap.

The door chimes, and your heart skips when you see Minho step inside. Dressed impeccably as always, his sharp eyes scan the room. You raise your hand, catching his attention.

“Over here!” You shout, excitingly waving your hand in the air.

He spots you, and you notice the way his lips twitch, almost betraying a smile before he reins it in. It makes your heart warm—he’s always trying so hard to maintain his composed front.

As he approaches, you offer, “Do you want to order coffee, Chef?”

“I already had coffee,” he replies nonchalantly, pulling out a chair and sitting across from you.

Since he's already here, you pull the bag onto your lap and take out the small box. Without saying a word, you place it on the table, sliding it toward him.

Minho looks at it, and this time, he doesn’t fight the smile. It tugs at his lips as he glances at you.

“Chocolates? Are we kids?” he teases, but there’s no malice in his tone.

You tilt your head coyly. “What’s wrong with it? I’ve always wanted to do this on Valentine’s Day.”

Minho lifts an eyebrow but says nothing, his fingers brushing over the box. You point at the small card you tucked on top of the package. “Read it,” you urge.

He smirks, shaking his head. “You read it.”

You shake your head back. “Nope. You have to read it yourself.”

Minho leans forward slightly, his eyes narrowing playfully. “What did you write?”

“Just take it and read it when you’re alone,” you insist, suddenly shy.

He tilts his head, studying you. “Did you write it from the heart?”

You giggle, nodding. “Of course.”

Something flickers in his eyes, softening his expression. He takes the card and tucks it into the inner pocket of his jacket, then focuses back on the box. You catch a fleeting look on his face, something you’ve never seen before—wonder, almost awe.

“No one’s ever given me something like this,” he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual.

The admission surprises you, and your heart swells knowing that you get to be the first for him, you can't help but feeling special.

Minho opens the box, and a genuine laugh bursts out of him. The sound is rich and warm, the kind of laugh that you rarely hear from him.

You grin, unable to contain your own laughter as he looks at the chocolates inside—the assortment of truffles arranged around the word “Chef” written in chocolate, flanked by little heart-shaped pieces.

“Don’t just stare at them,” you say, chuckling. “Try one!”

He picks up a piece, pops it into his mouth, and chews slowly, his eyes locked on you. His expression is unreadable at first, but then he nods, swallowing. “This must be why people fall in love.”

The words take you by surprise, and you feel your cheeks heat. You reach for one of the chocolates, but he swats your hand away, pulling the box closer to him.

“They’re mine,” he says, his tone mock-serious. “You can’t have any.”

You pout, feigning an unamused expression and then lean back in your chair. “Ugh! Fine.”

As you watch him, your eyes linger on his face. You’ve admired Minho before—his sharp jawline, his perfectly shaped lips, the way his eyes seem to catch the light just right—but sitting here, facing each other in this quiet moment, you feel like you’re seeing him in a new light. The usual sternness in his expression is gone, replaced by a softer, more relaxed version of him.

It strikes you how beautiful he looks when he lets his guard down. His smile, rare as it is, transforms him completely.

“What?” he asks, catching you staring.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, looking away. But deep down, you know that this moment, with the two of you sitting together and sharing something simple yet special, will stay with you for a long time.

-

The chilly air brushes against Minho’s face as the two of you walk side by side, the world around you quiet save for the faint sound of your footsteps. Moments like this, stolen and fleeting, remind him how much he cherishes your presence. He glances your way, and when you catch him looking, you smile—a bright, unguarded expression that makes his chest tighten.

Minho shoves one hand deep into his coat pocket, clenching his fingers into a fist to resist the urge to reach for your hand. Touching you, kissing you—it’s all he wants to do, but even walking next to you like this feels like a rare treasure.

In his other hand, he carries the box of chocolates you gave him, and every time he looks at it, he feels an inexplicable elation. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? How something so small, so simple, could make him feel like this? His mind drifts to the card tucked inside his jacket. Curiosity simmers beneath his composed exterior, but he tells himself to wait. He’ll read it once he’s back in the safety of his office, away from prying eyes.

But the warmth in his chest is shattered in an instant.

The restaurant’s main entrance swings open with a loud clang, and Taesoo bursts through the door. His face is a twisted mix of panic and horror, his chef hat crumpled in his trembling hands. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes darting between Minho, you, and the restaurant behind him.

Minho’s brows furrow as he straightens up. “What’s wrong?”

Taesoo’s gaze flickers nervously, his breaths uneven. His mouth opens, but no words come out at first. Minho’s patience snaps.

“What’s wrong?” he accidentally raises his voice at him out of impatience.

Taesoo finally blurts it out, his voice rising in a mix of alarm and disbelief. “What have you two been doing?”

Your eyes widen, and Minho feels the tension radiate from you as you stammer, “What are you talking about? What’s happening?”

Taesoo’s voice breaks as he takes a step closer. “You’ve been caught!”

The words hang heavy in the air, freezing both you and Minho in place.

“Caught?” Minho repeats, his voice dangerously low, though his heart is pounding in his chest.

Taesoo nods frantically. “Everyone in the kitchen knows now about... you two!”

You gasp audibly, your hand flying to your mouth in a dramatic gesture. “Everyone?”

Taesoo nods again, his expression a mix of disbelief and regret, as if he wished he could have been the bearer of better news.

Minho exchanges a wide-eyed look with you, his mind racing. He can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the precarious balance of secrecy teetering on the edge of collapse.

“What do you mean everyone knows?” Minho asks, his tone cold and unyielding, though his voice falters ever so slightly.

But Taesoo doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps back toward the door, leaving you both standing in stunned silence.

You turn to Minho, panic clear in your eyes. “What are we going to do?”

Sadly, Minho doesn’t have an answer for that but he feels as though the ground beneath him has crumbled, and all he can do is brace himself for the inevitable fallout.

-

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[loviestar58]

hai,love!!!❤️

Since Christmas is coming soon, I want to make a special request for that special day.🤭

Vi,Viktor,ekko,and sevika ( if you writer for her ) With lovely,cutey fem s/o giving them christmas presents.please

Btw, nice to meet you and merry christmas (in case i forgot to say it) 🎄❤️🧁🎁

🎄~Fem!Reader Giving Christmas presents~🎄

Ooohhhh this is such a cute one!😭💖

Nice to meet you too! And Merry Christmas/happy holidays!😊

This is definitely perfect for the holiday season, this is a must-do request!

For this, imagine yourself/reader in a cutie Santa dress. Whatever your mind comes up with!🤭

Also could be seen as a modern!au or just from the show, I just took some liberties with settings

Enjoy‼️💖

Vi:

🥊~It'd be another freezing night in the undercity, both you and Vi would be spending it in your shared apartment together. Snow gently falls outside, some small flecks of snowflakes sticking to the windows alongside the frost on the edges, creating a pretty shimmer over the glass. Vi would be relaxing on the couch, you by her side as you both cuddled up together under your giant heated blanket (best investment you ever had), watching some sort of cheesy Christmas movie that made Vi roll her eyes every few seconds. You, on the other hand, instead of watching the movie, we're watching the clock. The small arrow that counted the seconds ticking quietly, your eyes never leaving it, before it made it to 12. You started to get up from the very warm cuddle. "And where exactly are you going? You know, you made me watch this movie with you, and now you're leaving before it ends? What gives?" Her playful and teasing tone was not missed by your ears, especially when it was accompanied by that smirk of hers. You giggle, telling her that you'd be right back, practically prancing your way to your bedroom, barely able to contain the excitement that threatened to bubble up and out of your body. Vi would roll her eyes in amusement and wait, eyes back to the movie and not knowing how much time had passed before she heard the bedroom door open again, glancing to her side quickly and then double-taking as she saw you, now full on staring. You'd come back in different clothes, all dolled up as a cute mimic of Santa. "Ha, didn't know it was still Halloween, muffin. Wasn't expecting this. I'm not complaining though, you look..hot. Heh". Her eyes pierced through you, analyzing every curve and movement of your body. How the dress hugged your waist just right, how your thighs looked in the stockings you wore, and barely made it up to how your chest looked until you spoke up again, saying that it was officially Christmas, and you had a present for her. Holding your hands out, a sizable box lay in your hands. Vi blinked and looked up at the clock: 12:15 AM, now Christmas Day. Chuckling, Vi gingerly took the box from you and did so again as you plopped next to her on the couch, excitement written all over your face, anticipation building at Vi's possible reaction, which the pinkette couldn't help but find adorable. Taking the lid off the box, she gasped, eyes downcasted onto the object inside, her breath caught and chest tightening from the item. Pulling it out, a pair of boxing gloves revealed themselves, but not just any old pair, almost exact replicas of the ones Vander wore. You ask what she thought of it, if she likes it. Vi was almost speechless, thumb drawing small circles over the material of the gloves, memories flashing in her mind of the good days, the days of practicing boxing techniques with Vander in the basement of their home, Powder watching and cheering. Nothing else mattered. She didn't even realize a tear was falling from her eye until you panicked and tried to comfort her, saying if she didn't like it that you can take it back-

"No! No..it's alright, muffin. I'm ok, just..this is.." She was lost for words again, but found them again quickly as she smiled softly. "This is the best gift I've ever gotten..they look, just like his. And it's from you, which makes it even better. I love it. Thank you, muffin". Relief crosses your face as you let out a breath, leaning onto Vi and resting your forehead against hers, gently nuzzling each other as she wraps and arm around you to bring you closer, sharing a sweet and tender kiss as you wish each other a merry Christmas.

Viktor:

🩼~The lab was relatively quiet, only the soft whirring of the hexcore runes being shifted again and again, the bright blue light illuminating each time and bringing to light the exhaustion that lie all over Viktors face. Leaning back in his chair with a frustrated sigh, Viktor rubbed his eyes, bags underneath them dark and deep, all from way too many late nights. "Urghh..what am I missing?" He grumbles under his breath, eyes now staring dead at the hexcore in front of him. He had been staying up once again, another one of the many many sleepless nights he had been taking to figure out this mysterious rune-filled device. It was almost mocking him as it moved, pulsing it's blue glow as some runes shifted on their own. He felt his head starting to get fuzzy, slight dizziness falling over him before hearing a soft knock at the door, a specific knock. Your knock. The door opens as you step into the lab, Viktor having yet to turn around, already knowing it was you. "Hello, my love. I..I know it is late, so before you say anythi-" his long, pre-prepared explanation that he has made to you many times, knowing how worried you've gotten over him the past while, had got caught in his throat as he turned in his chair at the mere sight of you. You, standing there with a warm smile on your face, the dress that made your figure even more beautiful than usual, and of course the present in your hands. You say a soft hello to him as he continued to stare, not realizing he was repeating his own hello to you. "E-eh..hello, lovely. You..look incredible. What is this about?" You giggled, reminding him that it was now Christmas, and has been for about and hour or two, him glancing at the clock and realizing it for himself. "Ah..so it is. I- did not realize-" his eyes landed on the box again. "Is this..for me?" You nod happily, giddyness filling your body as you hand the box over to him, excited to see his reaction to your present. Viktor held the box on his lap and slowly began to unwrap it, the sounds of ripping wrapping paper filling the lap as well as cardboard being scratched against and opened. Reaching his hands into the box, he pulled out a small notebook and new looking fountain pen, the expensive kind. He smiles softly "A new notebook, and is this..oh my love, you did not.." You nodded excitedly, reciting the time he had mentioned wanting a new pen and that he particularly liked a specific brand of it, said it writes the smoothest for his taste. You explained how you recruited the help of Jayce to help track one down for you, seeing as how the brand he liked was rare and expensive, you told Jayce you'd pay him back, but of course he refused and said he was just happy to know he could help get something to make Viktor happy, and that made Viktor chuckle softly. "I must give Jayce my thanks when I see him again for his contributions of this gift. I love it, lovely. Thank you". He reached a hand up to bring you closer to him, placing the palm of his hand to you cheek and making you mean down and meet his lips against yours in a tender and soft kiss, full of gratitude and love for the gift. He holds the kiss for a good moment, always being the type to savor the feeling no matter the context of the kiss, before breaking it with a soft grin, allowing you to smile lovingly and wish him merry Christmas, and he does the same...then you start to scold him for staying up late again and tell him to go to sleep. And as usual he protests.

Ekko:

⏳~Laughter rang out throughout the base, young firelight kids running around in a traditional game of tag, or a mix of tag and a Snowball fight. Light snow fell to the ground, coating the area with a thin sheet of white that crunched beneath the shoes of everyone who stepped in it. Ekko stood on a balcony up on the big tree they called home, his big green jacket wrapped snuggly on his body to keep him warm as he smiled at the scene down below. The children playing always made his heart warm, glad they could find some joy in this chaotic world of theirs, and it made him know that he was doing things right. A small grunt broke his spaced out state, turning his head to see Scar besides him, not as bundled up as he was, a perk of being Vastayan, he supposed. "It's starting, as our leader I had to find you. Especially since your lover insisted this time" he spoke, chuckling in that deep voice of his. Ekko chuckled himself, shaking his head and pushing himself off the balcony to follow Scar down the tree, hoverboards being deployed within seconds. "Yeah, I'm comin'". By the time the two got down, feet crunching the snow beneath them, a circle of the firelights were in place, a big bonefire in the center of them all. Standing in the middle, giant bag in hand, was you. Dressed up the part to play as good ol' saint Nick, little bell on your hat jingling as you moved from kid to kid, handing out small presents you made yourself over the past month. You made sure no one was left out, having taken note of each person in the base, young adults included, and made them something personal for each one. As you kept handing out presents, Ekko watched you with a warm gaze, admiring your looks, and your heart. How you were such a kind and sweet girl to his people, going out of your way to do things like this for the time he's known you. You felt his gaze, turning to him and beaming that radient smile of yours that made his heart skip as you made your way over to him. "Seems you've been busy, you really got everyone something, didn't you?" You nodded happily, pulling two small boxes, the last two, out of the bag, you hand one to Scar and then to Ekko. Both men smiled at you, the Vastayan wasting no time in seeing what it was, pulling out a small pair of matching gloves, one for him and his baby, and he couldn't help the grateful look that washed over him, nodding in thanks to you which you returned with a hug, catching him off guard for a moment before he returned the gesture. Scar then left to go check on said baby, muttering a quick "Be right back" before leaving. Your attention returned to Ekko who had been fiddling with the little bow on the box, untying it as he felt your gaze on him, and lifting the kid. His eyes widened, pulling out a small wooden statue, carved in the image of a firelight bug, and then a pair of bracelets. You explain how they were matching, one for him and the other for you, each with your initials so you two can carry each other with you and be together, no matter where you are. "Firefly.." He whispered, his voice almost shaking. It'd been a while since he'd been given something so sweet and sentimental "..this is, beautiful. I..wow, you made these? How long did you spend on these? The details.." He trailed off, examining the jewelry and the small statue, box long forgotten on the ground. You stood there, proud of yourself, and feeling your heart swell at his reaction, lunging at him for a hug, stunning him for a moment. He smiled with a slight huff, putting the little presents in his pockets and returning the embrace, arms wrapping around your figure that seemed to mold perfectly against his, making his jacket come around you to create a bubble of warmth. His hand lifted to your cheek after a moment, lifting it up and bringing you in for a soft, sweet kiss. "Thank you, Firefly. Merry Christmas". You repeated it back, a gentle smile on your lips as you both got lost in each other's eyes, time stopping around you both, freezing this precious moment.

Sevika:

The door slammed open and then shut, the sound of it echoing throughout the apartment, Sevika stomping her way to the living room, cracking her neck and groaning in annoyance and anger. "Damn chem barons, oughta wring their damn necks..". With a loud plop, she sat herself down on the couch, letting out a giant sigh mixed with a groan as she rubbed her eyes. As if that would soothe any of her stress. The chem barons had been testing her patience lately, constantly ambushing her and picking fights, even if she always won, it still didn't make them any less annoying. Off in the doorway of your bedroom, you peaked around the corner, spotting Sevika on the couch and seeing just how stressed she was, watching as she fidgeted with her mechanized arm. You felt a small twinge in your heart, you hated seeing her so stressed and pissed off all the time, especially due to forces you couldn't control. After a moment or two of staring, an idea as well as a realization popped in your head, and a smile graced your cute face, giddy and retreating back into your shared bedroom. Sevika heard some rustling around in the room, having not realized you had been home the entire time. "Bunny? Is that you? Are ya home?" She called out to you, her voice sounding noticeably softer, as if she was happy knowing you were home. With no answer after a moment, she started to get up to find you, but quickly froze once you stepped back out, her eyes widening for a moment at the sight of you, a smirk appearing on her lips. "Well, what do we have here? Little bunny all dressed up for me?" You felt your cheeks heat up, a bit flustered at her usual teasing tone and giggling as you strutted up to her, gently placing a hand on her chest to make her sit back down on the couch, the other behind your back, and climbing up into her lap. She wasted no time in placing her hands on your hips, holding you close and kissing you firmly. "You're gorgeous, bunny. And based on the outfit, today's Christmas, huh?" She chuckled as you nodded excitedly, the other hand that was behind your back now coming to the front and presenting a small present box to her, which caught her off guard, but wasn't too shocked by the gesture. "Ooh, got me somethin'? Heh, I should've known". You chastise her, saying how you're not that predictable, but she begged to differ, recounting many times you've given her gifts, which made you huff playfully and roll your eyes and tell her to just open the present. She puts a hand up in fake surrender and did as she was told, unwrapping the box and prying it open with her mech hand, sharp fingers opening it up quick. She flipped the box over to dump the contents into her hand, a small item coming out and landing with a small metallic clink. "Is this..?" She started, looking up at you to see a proud look on your face. Why? Cause she was holding the lighter of a chem baron she fought. A brand logo she had mentioned before. "How did you get this?" You said one name, Jinx. And that was all Sevika needed to know. "So, you recruited the loose canon to get this for me? Heh..gotta say, I'm impressed. And..grateful". Her tone softened at the last word, flipping open the lighter to watch the pretty blue flame spouting out, smiling to herself as you wished her a merry christmas before closing it again and going in for another, more passionate kiss. "Thanks, bun. I love it" she said softly, making you giddy enough to hold her close in an embrace, her returning the gesture in full, savoring the touch. And that included some wandering hands that you felt on your lower back.

I think I did more work than I should have but like-

I love how this came out😭

I apologize for any mischaracterization, I did my best with this! But I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!😊💖

[amongemeraldclouds]

starry eyed

Tom Riddle never meant to feel affection. That warm, sickly feeling felt like indigestion and heartburn. An inconvenience. But Salazar, you had never been on a date. It was an injustice he needed to make right.

Tom Riddle x f!Reader | Based on this request | Fluff

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 1.9k words

It was just supposed to be another project. Tom Riddle expected you to just be another schoolmate who would let him do most of the work so he could have things exactly as he wanted. He never minded the work; enjoyed it, even. But he did mind having another student’s grimy fingers all over his carefully planned and skillfully executed projects. Just the thought of it made him want to cast crucio on whoever owned those grimy fingers.

Yet you managed to squeeze your way through his neatly arranged schedule. A row of clean lines and routines that made room for your squiggles and smiles. Literally. You had penciled yourself in his timetable “library with y/n for Astronomy project :)”. At least you had capitalized the A in Astronomy as all subjects should be.

That was how he first found himself walking towards you at the library. People respected him, was even intimidated by him. But you smiled up at him like you had been friends forever and he nearly doubted for a second if he was supposed to be there. He figured you were either naive, a lamb prancing into the lion’s den, or simply unbothered.

“Why did you invite me here?” He asked, placing his books across you in the library.

“Hi Tom,” you beamed, ignoring his question. “I’m doing great. Thanks. For a smart person, that sure is a silly question.”

He clenched his jaw and so you soldiered on. “We were paired together for the project so I thought we’d meet tonight to discuss. You may not be used to it Mr. Perfect, but I always help out with all my projects so like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“Fine,” he breathed out quickly. “Just try to keep up,” he said curtly as he opened his books to discuss.

“Maybe you’re the one who has to keep up with me,” you said, unfazed.

But he ignored you and launched straight into the project details and his plans. Your eyes widened and you grabbed your notebook and pen. Tom’s mouth twitched and you imagined it was his version of a smile. He really was going to make it difficult for you, but you were up for the challenge.

You may have also had a crush on him, but that definitely had nothing to do with the way your heart was pounding in your chest. School could also be intense and exciting. Ha.

By the third written sentence, you managed to catch up and gather all the details he had in mind for the project. You asked questions about the plan and Tom was surprised you mentioned a minor detail he had not previously considered. It irritated him, but you had also managed to earn his respect.

The discussion had been a lot more engaging than he thought. Though it probably didn’t say much considering his expectations had been so low, it had melted with the lava down the centre of the Earth.

You tapped on the table lightly. “Now that we’ve accomplished a lot, it’s time for snacks!”

Tom blinked, not sure if he heard you right. “What are we to do with snacks?”

You blinked back. “To eat. So we can take a break from all the studying?”

“I don’t do breaks. My focus levels are perfectly fine,” he stated.

“This is why you’re so grumpy all the time! You don’t eat snacks or take breaks,” you slapped a hand to your forehead.

“Ah yes you have cracked the mystery. You now know everything about me,” he replied sarcastically and you snorted. If you hadn’t felt so tired, you may have spent some energy being embarrassed for your un-lady like behaviour in front of your crush. But you had your priorities straight.

“Try these biscuits I baked and I promise you will know all about joy and the wonders of the universe,” you offered.

“So it’s spiked?”

You looked horrified. “I’ll have you know my baking is magical all on its own.”

“It’s bad enough that I have to work on this project with you. If I go on this break with you, will you leave me alone to complete this project?”

“Maybe,” you said, scooping up your belongings and rushing out the library before he could change his mind. You inwardly cheered when he followed you.

Tom didn’t take any of your words seriously, but when he bit into the biscuit, the buttery goodness that melted in his mouth made him feel like he was coming home to a place he never knew he belonged to. Not that he would ever tell you.

“What’s your favourite astrological event?” He asked as he savoured the biscuit.

“I love meteor showers, though I’ve never seen one before. Imagine seeing a cluster of stars raining down the sky,” you said, after a moment’s pause.

“Don’t have to imagine, I’ve seen it before,” he said unimpressed.

Your eyes widened in fascination. “What did you wish for?”

He looked affronted. “I don’t do wishes, I make things happen.”

You slapped your thigh and his eyes followed your movement, making you blush. “How could you not make a wish? It’s like having a magic lamp and using it as a teapot. Where’s the wonder and romance?”

“Magic is a science, it’s why we’re here,” he insisted.

“We’re here for biscuits,” you declared instead and shoved another into your mouth. He inwardly smiled. Sure, if anything were to be magical the way you saw it, he supposed it could be those heavenly biscuits. 

He was sure that was the last time he’d meet you outside of class. But the very next day, he found your squiggly handwriting on his timetable again. “Library with y/n for Astronomy project + snack break :)” He sighed, but he secretly looked forward to the buttery biscuits.

You made good progress on the project as the days passed. Tom continued to be surprised by your helpful contributions. Sure they were unconventional and your process was far too scattered for his liking, but you came up with creative ideas and were equally as committed as he was to the project.

Tom suggested extra research for some information he wanted to include and you managed to read all the chapters he wrote down. All for the love of education. You were certainly not a girl trying to impress your crush. Nope.

The snack breaks were also not as miserable as Tom thought they would be. You got to know each other better and there was something strangely fascinating about you. Then there were those life-changing biscuits.

He sometimes found himself craving those buttery goods during his long hours of studying. The problem was that he could not get them anywhere else except from you. It didn’t help that you were nearly done with your project and would soon have no reason to see each other. That diabolical woman, he thought.

Something else stayed with him. On one of your snack breaks, you finally built up the courage to ask Tom about his dating life. He managed to deflect and turn the question around to you, but you didn’t mind. Hopefully you sharing would one day help him open up to you.

“What was the last date you’ve been on?” He asked and you watched in slow motion when he licked the corner of his lip to catch a stray crumb. You had to dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself from squealing.

Then you thought hard about his question. “What qualifies as a date?” You asked cautiously.

“Someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.”

“Well,” you turned it over in your head, “then I guess I’ve never been on a date before.” You quickly added, “I have had boyfriends before, we just did things they liked and anyway, it’s no big deal.”

It had been days, but he still seethed at the memory. He was not one for romance, but even he felt indignant that all that sunshine and sweetness was wasted on boys who didn’t know what they had. That evening, he added you to his timetable himself. He was going to set things right.

“Are you sure you’re not here to m*rder me and take full credit for our brilliant project?” You asked as you followed Tom Riddle deeper into the woods. You hugged your coat tightly as the evening chill swept around you. The crickets chirped and twigs snapped below your feet.

“Do you think I’d announce it if I was? Besides, there’s no one around so you’ll just have to trust me,” he replied.

“I thought we were becoming friends,” you remarked.

“Never assume things,” he said matter of fact.

You gripped your wand tightly and walked on. He was right. You followed a boy into the woods at night because you had a crush on him. You cursed inwardly and vowed to make better decisions in your next life.

We’re here!” he announced. There was a clearing ahead and before you could ask what it was, he pointed to the sky. “Should be about now,” he commented. The next moment, you watched as stars glittered and rained down the sky. It was a meteor shower. Your eyes brightened, reflecting the glowing lights that dove through the sky.

“You said you’ve never seen one before and it just so happens there’s one tonight and this is the perfect spot,” he explained before you could even ask. He then asked you to make a wish.

“Only if you make a wish with me,” you said, looping your arm around him. You figured it was the closest he’d allow a hug. Surprisingly, he stayed beside you, letting you lean into him.

“Isn’t it enough to just watch this with you? You like it, don’t you?”

The pieces clicked in your head. “You said and I quote ‘a date was when someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.’ Mr. Tom Riddle, is this your way of telling me you like me? Is this,” you motioned at the stars and around you, “a date?”

“What did I tell you about assuming things?” He deflected and pointed at the stars again. “They won’t fall forever, you know. Are you going to use this magical lamp as your teapot?”

Perhaps it was the shooting stars or the cold evening air, or being alone with the boy you liked in the dark forest, that made you bold. 

“What if you’re the only one who can grant my wish?” You gave him your brightest smile and Tom could read all the words you’d never speak aloud in your eyes. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips and he brought them down to yours.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle and you wrapped your arms around him, letting your body melt against him. He pulled you in closer, his arms strong and confident as if you belonged to him. He placed tender kisses down your jaw, moving slowly to your neck, and as you gazed up, you watched the last of the stars fall down the sky. 

The cold bit down your skin as Tom stepped back and you immediately missed his warmth. “You like me!” You beamed.

“How are you so sure I’m not just after the biscuits?”

You wrapped your arms around him, enjoying the warmth again. “I’ll bake you all the biscuits you want. Doesn’t change the fact that you also like me, which works perfectly because I like you too. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Tom returned the hug. Not that he wanted to get rid of you anyway.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

A/N: Tom secretly liking biscuits is so adorable. A subtle nod to our tea party!

[skiiyoomin]

hello! i’m not sure if you’re taking reqs so if not feel free to skip this! i was wondering if we can get a oneshot of bakugo x reader except reader is a famous jpop idol (or even a global pop star) and bakugo is a pro hero. how the rest plays out can totally be up to you but i thought this would be a unique pairing. :)

ʚCont: pro hero! Bakugou x idol! reader, inspo from the met gala, gn! reader, swearing cause its bakugou

⤑Back to navigation

a/n Hi hi! Yes my reqs are open so feel free to ask as much as you´d like! I looove the idea, its literally one of my fave tropes. It´s a little short but I thought it was a cute way to start a possible relationship between bakugo and reader :>

Bakugou hated attending these events. The constant flashing of camera lights, the stuffiness of his suit, the obnoxious voices of paparazzi begging him to look their way. It was exhausting.

But alas, as one of the top heroes, he had to show his face more often than he´d like to and make small talk with people he could care less about. At least he´d get a few free drinks and food for the night.

As he finished walking down the red carpet and away from the dizzying lights, a figure smaller than his own bumped into him. And Bakugou in his very characteristic fashion, was ready to threat whoever wasn´t watching their step. "Oi, watch where you´re-"

The words died in his throat when his ruby eyes landed on your own. You had to be the most beautiful person he had ever seen. The luxurious fabric of your extravagant clothes complimented your features and sitted on the curves of your body just right. He realizes he was staring more than he should when your silky voice reached his ears.

"I´m so sorry!! It´s just it´s a bit hard to walk in these clothes" You admit with an embarrsed chuckle. He tsks, though there was no real annoyance directed towards you. "Can´t believe they´re making you wear something you can´t even walk in"

You chuckle feeling flattered by the concerns from someone who was so notorious for being abrasive...and devilishly handsome. "Yeah, well, you know, practicality isn´t really on top of their priority list."

To the surprise of the both of you, he holds his arm out. "What table are you assigned in?" God it took everything in him not to sweep you off your feet with the way your doe eyes were marveling up at him. You link your arm around his own. "Table three"

He hums in acknowledgement, though deep down he felt his heart hammering in his chest like a teenage boy. "Good, at least there will be a pretty face sitting with me"

It was embarrassing how quickly heat rose to your cheeks from such a common and simple compliment you heard quite often. Though it felt so different hearing it slip from his tongue. It felt genuine.

The picture you had portrayed of the pro hero Dynamight completely shattered the longer you spent the night engaged in conversation with him. He too, felt any prejudices he may have held against you for being an idol slip away. Conversation rolled easily between you two as if you had been friends for years, and for the first time in a very long time, you both truly enjoyed being there.

Of course, it didn´t make it any less exhausting. The proof being written all over your energy drained face by the time the clock struck 12 PM. Lucky you, Bakugou had a knack for being observant, so it didn´t take long before he realized how fatigued you felt, and truthfully, he wasn´t doing much better than you. He was just better at hiding it.

"Let me drive you home" It wasn´t a question, and it´s not like you had the energy to retaliate. You let him place a warm calloused hand on your waist while he led you to his car. The drive back to your home felt like it went by in a flash, though it must be because you were fast asleep.

His heart clenched when he gazed at your soft features while you were deep in slumber. But alas, the last thing he wanted was to overstep boundaries, so, albeit begrudgingly, he reached out and shook your shoulder.

"Hey, wake up, we´re here"

Your dark lashes fluttered against your cheeks before your eyelids slowly opened. It took you a long moment to gather your surroundings, but once you realized, your lips formed into a small `o´.

Bakugou thought it was a crime to look so adorable, but it´s not like he would ever tell you that. "C´mon, i´ll help you upstairs"

Once again, his hands felt just right against your body when he aided you in walking properly to your home. Everything felt like a fever dream. The way he respectfully removed any excessive fabric of clothing or the way he helped you into your bed in a surprisingly soft manner for someone so rough.

But you realized how real it was when you spotted a little note sticked to your fridge the next morning with beautifully neat handwriting saying:

"Text me xxx-xx-xx-xx"

And if anyone had seen the wide grin that spread across your face, they would have called you a simp. Maybe you were.

[lenacosse]

You are in love

pairing: jake peralta x reader

cw: none

word count: 1600

summary: literally just based off the song you are in love by taylor swift, was written so quick but i love it

════════════════

One look dark room, meant just for you

“Jakes staring again,” Amy hummed nudging you to look.

You made eye contact with Jake who quickly looked away, your face went red and you tried to hide your smile.

“He wasn’t even looking at me.” You reply, shutting down Amy’s ideas.

“If you say soooo,” she blew you a kiss and stumbled over to the bar.

Before you knew it Jake was over sitting beside you, you smiled and took a sip of your drink.

“Hey.” Jake said.

“Hi.” You replied.

“Having fun?”

“I guess, just very loud in here,” you shrugged.

“I can’t believe you’ve been with us for three years now,”

Time moves too fast, you play it back

“I remember how shy you were, how you were scared of Holt.” Jake teased.

“Shut up Jake.” You playful shoved his arm, then resumed fidgeting with the buttons on your coat. “I remember you being oh so adamant to help me.”

Buttons on a coat, lighthearted joke

The two of you went back and fourth, Jakes only goal was to torment you. Something he done very often, you didn’t mind you thought he was funny but never would you admit that.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Jake asked.

“Actually yeah, I’ll call a cab.”

“No need, I’ll drive us I haven’t been drinking.”

“Okay.”

No proof, not much. But you saw enough.

Jake stands up and holds out his hand to help you up, this of course had your face turning red and your heart thumping. It was the little things he done that mislead your heart, there were times where you swore your feelings were mutual. Maybe you were wrong, but sometimes you allowed yourself to dream.

Jake even went as far as opening the car door for you, usually you’d roll your eyes at the gentleman approach but for some reason it was sweet when Jake done it, as much as you’d joked that he was a womaniser you knew he was far from that.

Small talk, he drives.

“So how are you enjoying work recently? Feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” You ask as Jake drives.

“The usual, busting drug lords, bringing down the mafia, saving the world day by day.” Jake replies.

“Ha ha very funny Peralta.” You roll your eyes, and his only response is a bashful grin, one that you know will reply in your mind.

Coffee, at midnight.

You and Jake went back to your apartment, you read the clock which hits midnight as he hands you a mug of coffee.

“Gonna be up all night,” Jake jokes.

“Oh I can image, you high on caffeine like a little child.” You tease, Jake just pulls a mocking face at you.

You go sit out on your balcony, Jake follows behind you and you sit in a comfortable silence drinking your coffee.

The light reflects, the chain on your neck.

“The moons reflecting on your necklace,” Jake says, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Really?”

He says, “look up” and your shoulders brush.

“Look up,”

No proof, one touch. But you felt enough.

As you do you brush shoulders with Jake, the touch sending chills down your spine. It was as if he sent electrical waves coursing through your body, it just solidified your undying commitment. You ever longing attraction. It spoke volume.

You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out.

A comfortable silence emerged yet again over you both, that happened often with Jake. It’s not that you it was awkward but because you simply didn’t need to talk. As you watched him admire the moon the feeling that settled in your stomach grew, you found yourself reflecting on your feelings. It was simple. That feeling was heard in the silence that feeling was felt on the way home, and you could see it with the lights out. There’s was only one answer.

You are in love.

True love.

════════════════

Morning, his place.

You and Jake had been on your second date together, he asked you out two weeks ago. It came out in a complete blur.

You and Jake had just chased down a fugitive on the run, you ran two blocks which included jumping over fences and dodging hotdog carts. God this job was going to kill you. But finally you got the guy as a result of you lunging forward and landing on top of him knocking you both to the ground. Jake arrested him and you turn to make your way back to the car when he calls out for you.

“(Y/N)?”

You turn around, “yeah?”

“Go on a date with me tomorrow night?” He blurts out in one breath. You didn’t catch a word.

“What?”

“Go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

You couldn’t stop the stupid grin that overtook your face, of course you said yes. The date had gone so well, so well that when you got home you stayed awake all night thinking about him. And of course you had no hesitation asking him out for another date.

Burnt toast, Sunday.

Now you lay in his bed, slowly waking up. Although when you hear the fire alarm you jump up and run to the kitchen.

“Jake?! What the fuck!”

“Burnt toast…” Jake pulls a face and grabs the toast from the toaster, the toast which is fully cremated.

You look between Jake and the toast, the situation of course has you both laughing as you make him sit down. You from now on are appointed to make the food. You sit together on his couch eating toast (not cremated of course).

“You wearing my shirt?”

“I can take it off if you want… sorry it was just the first thing I grabbed.”

You keep his shirt.

“No why would you apologise keep it. Looks better on you.”

“Just my ex, got mad when I used his stuff.” You shrug, you didn’t realise how much that upset you until Jake lifted your chin.

He keeps his word.

“I promise I’ll never get mad at you,”

And for once, you let go, of your fears and your ghosts, one step, not much. But it said enough.

Usually you didn’t believe promises, but how could you not with Jake? Jake who was fiercely loyal and dedicated, Jake who would do anything to make someone smile. You knew he would keep his promises, and two months in that still withstood.

════════════════

“Jake!” You squeal running down the sidewalk.

He catches you and grabs your waist.

“You completely dodged the mistletoe.”

You kiss on sidewalks.

You roll your eyes and turn around, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close. You share a passionate kiss, one that has your head fuzzy and lips swollen by the end of you. When he pulls away you blush like an idiot and take his hand, you walk towards the car.

You fight, then you talk.

“No but seriously,” Jake starts as he gets into the car. “Why did you dodge the mistletoe. Is it about your family again?”

“Jake we’ve had this conversation.” You sigh as you turn on your engine and start the car up.

“I know but I don’t understand, you bring me to family events but you refuse to introduce me as your boyfriend.”

“Because it’s not that simple!”

“What’s not simple? All you have to say is ‘mom, dad this is my extremely handsome boyfriend Jake’ see easy.”

“Jake be serious come on,”

“Sorry. But please just tell me what’s so wrong with it, are you embarrassed of me or something?”

“How can you say that? Of course I’m not embarrassed of you Jake.” You sigh. “I don’t tell my family because I can’t handle them ruining this for me. Every time I’ve been happy they ruin it for me, either it’s them discrediting me becoming a detective because my sister has became a doctor, or it’s them making me feel bad for feeling sad when someone disappoints me, or most frequently it’s them picking apart all of my boyfriends because god forbid I’m happy for once. That’s why Jake. That’s why I refuse to introduce you as my boyfriend because I refuse to let them put things into my head.”

“I’m sorry, I had no idea.” Jake rubs a thumb over your hand.

“No it’s not your fault, I should have told you.”

════════════════

One night, he wakes

You smile looking at Jake before returning to your book, the lamp on your beside table dimly lights up the room. And again you find yourself staring at Jake, who’s so peacefully sleeping. His features outlined by the light, making him look ethereal. You were staring so intensely that you almost didn’t notice him waking up.

Strange look on his face

“Why are you looking at me like that.” You softly laugh, “everything okay?”

Pauses, then says;

“You’re my best friend.”

And you knew what it was.

The simplicity of the words has your throat stifling. You could recognise that realisation anywhere.

He is in love.

You knew he shared it too.

You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out.

Finally you weren’t alone in this. You shared it, the love lingered all around. It was heard in the silence by both, it was felt on the way home by both, and it was seen with the lights out, by both.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Bucky vs. Book

^Bucky on his way to you fr^

Summary: Bucky rushes to your aid when he finds out you’re upset. He’s never seen you this distraught before.

Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

Words: 600 (I don’t think I have ever written something this short before wth)

Warning: It’s kinda angst?? But mostly fluff. 

A/N: Sorry I haven’t been on much lately, school is keeping me busy. I wrote this pretty quickly and it’s just a short little treat while I’m in the middle of writing a mini series. Idk when I’ll finish writing it, but it prob won’t be done this month. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

“Bucky?” Sam asked.

“M’ busy.” Bucky mumbled, curling a barbell like it was a dumbbell.

“Someone just informed me they heard crying coming from your girl’s room.”

“What?” Bucky dropped the barbell on the ground with a loud thud. 

“Move, out of the way!” Bucky yelled, nearly knocking Sam over as he started sprinting to the gym exit.

Bucky ran so fast that he was bumping into walls and hitting corners, trying to locate the nearest stairs. 

He took the stairs by three, his heart hammering against his chest, his ears on high alert in case he could hear you calling for him.

Finally, he made it to your room, and swung the door open without a second thought, just needing to know if you were okay. Bucky’s wide eyes spotted you instantly, curled into yourself on the rug, tissues littering the floor, sobbing. He had never seen you so upset.

He wasted no time sliding onto his knees and to you.

“Doll? Doll, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?” He tried to lift your chin to see your beautiful face, but you barely acknowledged him, your puffy eyes cast down.

“My h-heart,” you choked, clutching your chest.

“Are you having a heart attack?” He couldn’t stop himself from sliding his hands all over you, checking for injuries.

“I feel– s-so sad,” was all you could make out between sobs.

“Baby, who hurt you?” He was panicking, he needed to know what happened, why you were so distraught so he could fix it. 

“Stupid book!” You cried, and flung yourself at him, holding him close, and tucking your head into his chest. Bucky immediately reciprocated, wrapping his big arms around you, squeezing you tight, one hand brushing your hair.

That’s when he noticed the outline of a book under a couple tissues.

“It’s not fair,” you cried, body shaking with each breath.

“I know, I know,” he soothed. He, of course, did not know, but he was enormously relieved to see the perpetrator was only a book. 

“They were supposed to end up together! They were p-p-per–” You squeezed him tighter, struggling to get the words out. “Perfect together! Why did the author ruin it? It’s not fair, it’s not fair, they deserve to be happy!” 

“Shhh,” he whispered, starting to rock you back and forth.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered through another cry, and collapsed fully into him.

“It’s not,” Bucky echoed.

Eventually your cries quieted and slowed, and Bucky kissed your forehead and let go of you. You barely had time to question what he was doing when he picked up the book from behind you and started to pretend to punch it. 

“Bad book,” he chastised, “you made my baby cry. Nobody makes my baby cry,”

You couldn’t help but giggle, and wipe the remaining tears from your eyes.

Bucky continued to scold it, and even positioned himself to body slam it.

“Bucky,” you full on laughed, “stop,”

“Not until it apologizes,” he grumbled, faking a chokehold on it. “Oh, shit–” Bucky rolled onto his back and held the book above him, acting out a struggle. “It’s got me baby, help!”

Giving in to his shenanigans, you leaned over and grabbed the book from his hands, and gave it your own weak punch. 

“Fuck you, book,” You sniffed and laughed.

“It can’t hurt you anymore,” Bucky said, patting your back. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” 

“I’ve got you, doll.”

“Why are there dents in all the walls?” Tony’s raised voice could be heard all the way from the floor below.

You looked at Bucky.

“What?” He smiled cheekily. “You needed me.”

Thank you for reading!

My Masterlist if you'd like to check my other stuff out :)

Oh oh and this is inspired by my reaction to Me Before You by Jojo Moyes. I hate that book so much. I love that book so much.