#so that i can go out and get chocolate hazelnuts :)

[dullahandyke]

Very courteous of ppl to have DNIs bcos I get to find out if they have shit opinions before I have to follow them. Like if u wanna flaunt the fact that u dont think for yrself by saying 'dni bi lesbians' then I'm not gonna say no to that warning sign

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

MUNCHIES!

Kelvin Harrison Jr X Reader

Summary: Your neighbor, Kelvin, invites you to the fair. After a night of fun you end up in his apartment.

Warnings: Short, Smut, Humor, Neighbors.

Part One.

Why does having a crush put you in a state of mental hell?

It happens too easily and too often because your crush is across the hall from you.

And his name is Kelvin.

A handsome man with a bright, magnetic smile and a sense of humor. You moved in two months prior to meeting Kelvin. He was the first to greet you, reaching out his hand to shake yours while you were on your way into work.

“I’m Kelvin, welcome to the neighborhood. Don’t be a stranger. I promise I don’t bite. If you need anything like…sugar, spaghetti, you name it, I got it for you!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at him.

Funny thing is, you did end up needing sugar. You were currently making a batch of edible chocolate chip cookies for a friend. You confused the sugar bag for flour and there was no way you were going back out to the market after dealing with all that traffic and road rage. Slipping on your Stitch slippers, you head out into the hall and across to Kelvin’s door.

Raising a fist, you suddenly become aware of how naked you feel. Cookie Monster boy shorts on. A barely there tank top. A chill swept across your chest, causing your nipples to harden. Turning, you shuffle back towards your apartment, but the sound of a door knob twisting caught your ear from behind.

“I’ll catch you when you get back from your trip, Kel!”

“Got a lot of work to do within the next month with press and all—”

Silence. You do a slow and dramatic turn, meeting the stunned faces of Kelvin and a friend of his you didn’t recognize. Kelvin had a lot of friends. It was hard to keep up with names and faces. Kelvin stood within his entryway with a velour, emerald green durag over his head, a white tank top, and black ball shorts. The friend, a tall, lanky black boy sporting a grey hoodie and matching joggers didn’t hold back as his eyes swept over your frame.

“Y/N? Girl, where you think you goin’ dressed like that?” Kelvin questioned with a fold of his arms and an arched brow. The corner of his beautiful lips twitched, fighting the urge to laugh.

“So this Y/N? Dayum—”

Kelvin slapped his friend against the shoulder. They both share a look, communicating with their eyes. Y/N twisted her lips before a smile broke out across her pretty face. So…Kelvin talked about you to his friends?

Interesting. Definitely noted.

“My bad, love, I’m Roy. Nice to meet you.”

Roy held out his hand in greeting. You shake his hand before quickly releasing it. Your eyes linger on Kelvin’s face as the awkward silence stretched on. Roy cleared his throat, causing you to blink away from Kelvin’s hypnotic brown orbs.

“Nice to finally meet you. Be safe, bro.”

They bumped fists and Roy turned to leave.

“You didn’t answer my question, punk.”

You’d finally found your voice. You shove a foot towards Kelvin’s direction and he swatted it away.

“I ain’t no punk. And I was coming over to ask for some sugar. I got an edible order to make.” You finally reply.

Kelvin leaned against his doorway with a smirk and low eyes, “And none for me? What type of shit…”

“You got thirty dollars?” You quipped.

“I do. How fast can you make me some fruity pebbles?”

“As fast as that money is in my hand, Kelvin. Now, come on! I need sugar!”

You stomp in place like a spoiled brat. Kelvin’s eyes did a quick sweep of your shapely thighs and the peek of midriff that teased him.

“Take a picture! It’ll last longer!”

Kelvin gave you a skeptical look, “You wanted me to see you like this, huh? You ain’t slick.”

Kelvin took a few steps back, holding his apartment door open for you to enter. You give him a look and he inclined his head for you to come in. You’d never been inside of his apartment. He’d been in yours a few times to help you bring groceries in. As you walk forward, the smell of sativa titillated your nose. With a hint of hazelnut cream.

“Brown or white?”

You focus on his back. The dip in his back in particular. You could see muscle definition in his arms and upper back. You knew he’d been going harder in the gym with his personal trainer lately from his ig stories. Preparing for a role possibly. Whatever the case, you were pleased.

Huh?” You finally reply.

Kelvin looked over his shoulder at you with elevated brows.

“Brown or white sugar?”

“White.”

Kelvin snorted a laugh, “And here I thought I daydream too much.”

Kelvin opened his walk–in pantry. He reappeared two seconds later with a big storage container filled with sugar. He found a zip–lock and filled it generously with enough sugar to last you some time.

“You didn’t need to give me that much, Kel,” you accept the bag, holding it against your chest to conceal your nipples.

“I’m just tryna look out for you, girl. Plus, I want my fruity pebbles and my coochie—I mean cookies!”

Kelvin threw a hand over his mouth and you both burst into a fit of laughter. Kelvin doubled over with a hand against his stomach and you flew your body over his kitchen counter. Tears ran down your cheeks, and Kelvin’s boisterous smile and open mouth laugh didn’t help to contain your cackling.

“I had too much weed! Oh shit! Whew!” Kelvin used his thumb to swipe away tears, “Coochie sound good though I ain’t gon lie to you!”

“You make me sick! I’m leaving!”

You turn to leave but Kelvin grabbed you by the waist. You look back at him and couldn’t help but to laugh again. His touch against your skin sent signals to your nerves and your body did a jolt that you couldn’t control. He smelled amazing and his glassy skin looked delectable. Beyond his lashes you could tell from the whites of his eyes that he’d smoked some good shit.

“Who said you could leave me alone? Remember what I said happened the last time I smoked silver haze?” Kelvin whispered against your ear.

“I don’t remember nor do I give a fuck!”

You screech when Kelvin tried to tickle you. Your squirming became too much so he released you.

“I got a couple blunts left if you wanna chill with me?”

Kelvin tucked his chin and wagged his brows at you. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I have to get this order finished. If you want, come help me out and we can smoke.”

Kelvin tapped his chin in thought. Too long for your patience.

“It’s either a yes or a no, Kelvin!” You shout with a smile.

“Aight, I’ll come over. Let me grab my chips first.”

Kelvin opened his pantry again and you waited for him while walked back towards the door. Your curious eyes scanned his eclectically stylish apartment until your eyes came upon a painting.

“Honey Dripping. That’s the name of it.”

You jump slightly from being startled. Kelvin was amused with your response, eyes twinkling with mischief. You turn your attention back to the painting.

“Why this one in particular?” You question.

“It’s beautiful. It shows appreciation to the female anatomy. And I love coochie…or did you forget the slip of my tongue back in the kitchen?”

The playful edge to his voice sparked a horniness within you. Kelvin took his place next to you while munching on Lay’s chips. He chewed and admired the painting with wondrous enthusiasm.

“Anyway, you ready to head out? Them Cookie Monster shorts had enough fun for one night, ma.”

You shove him jokingly before leading the way out of his apartment. Kelvin grabbed his keys and slipped on some crocs along the way. Still, the painting and his words remained on your mind.

——

You allow Kelvin to add the chocolate chips before mixing the thick batter. The sound of Tyler The Creator playing from your Bluetooth had the two of you grooving. Kelvin cut some parchment to line the cookie sheet while you took a break to puff on a blunt. French inhaling the smoke, you pass it to Kelvin who accepted the blunt between his thumb and pointer finger, toting it before expertly blowing the smoke away from you.

You open the oven and Kelvin slipped the tray inside.

“See what team work can do?” Kelvin brushed his hands.

“Maybe asking you for sugar was the right thing to do after all.”

You wink at him while gathering your dishes to clean. Kelvin perched himself next to you with a towel to dry.

“Got any plans tomorrow?” Kelvin asked after placing a clean mixing bowl in the dish rack.

“No. Why?” You glance at him with bright eyes.

“There’s a fair…heard about it?”

“I did. Was gonna buy two tickets but that didn’t work out.”

Kelvin pouted his bottom lip with curiosity, “What happened?”

“…long story,” you huffed, “Shortened version? This dude I met on Hinge, found out he was seeing my friend.”

“OUCH. That’s fucked up,” Kelvin accepted a whisk, “Happy you dodged that bullet and here I am to save the day!”

You laugh, “Mr. Harrison, are you asking me on a date?”

You jutted your hip out and gave Kelvin a flirty look with a little smile. He licked his lips before chuckling. His eyes danced across your face and that look was doing things to you.

“I guess I am, huh?” Kelvin nibbled on his bottom lip, “Well? Can I take you to the fair, Y/N?”

You played it cool by giving him a nod in acceptance and a coy smile. On the inside, you were doing flips and cheers. After months of the back and forth, he made the first move. As he should. You’d dropped hints plenty of times. This didn’t mean anything yet. It could be a simple friend date. A date with Kelvin of any kind was enough for you.

“Then it’s a date. I’ll pick you up at three?”

“Three is good.”

You both finish up and head to your living room to smoke and watch a little TV. Kelvin made himself comfortable on the floor while you laid on your side on the sofa. Head propped up against your arm, you put on a random Marvel movie. Kelvin brought his knees up and draped his arms over it. You tap his shoulder with your acrylic french tip and he cut his eyes at you before accepting the blunt to keep the rotation flowing.

“You like roller coasters?” Kelvin asked.

“I do.”

“How about drop towers?”

“Nah,” you take the blunt, “Had a bad experience on one before.”

“You got stuck?” Kelvin turned his body fully, giving you a shocked look with his mouth hanging open.

“I did! Happened when I was eleven. Six flags. The ride started up out of nowhere and that drop almost made me see heaven. No more.”

Kelvin threw his head back and laughed. The fabric of his durag stroked your knee and it caused goosebumps to appear on your arms.

“I hate anything that spins. Shit makes me sick.” Kelvin revealed with a look of disgust.

“Let me guess, made you vomit?”

“Yeah! I hate feeling dizzy. That over and over again spinning drives me nuts!”

Bet, remind me to put you on the cyclone for torture when you piss me off.” You replied jokingly.

Kelvin sat up on his knees to face you.

“That’s if you can even force me to do it. Look at all this,” Kelvin flexed, showing off muscles and lifted his shirt to give you a glance at his abs, “Too strong!”

“Kelvin, we’re the same height. And last time I checked, your friend Aaron got you beat in that department—HEY!”

Kelvin had snatched your slippers off and started tickling your feet. You writhed on the sofa, kicking a squealing, trying to fight him off.

“OKAY! okayokayokay! I’m sorry!” You were blinded by tears and your laughter couldn’t be contained, “KELVIN! YOU WIN! OKAY!”

“That’s not what I want to hear, Y/N.”

Kelvin grabbed you by the ankles, your body tumbling to the throw rug. Kelvin climbed over you to hold your wrists above your head. You move your head to get your braids from your eyes and focus on Kelvin’s face. Your chest rose and fell with deep breaths and he blinked down at you with a condescending smile.

“Where’s the blunt?!”

“On the tray. Don’t try to deflect. What was that about Aaron?!”

“I was only kidding!” You replied.

“Mhm. Don’t let me find out you’ve been checking him out, punk.”

You liked this side of Kelvin. The way he had you trapped beneath him and the glint in his eyes with that sexy smirk had you a wet mess. You wanted to see how far he’d go.

“Can I share something with you, Kel?”

He tilted his head, gold chain dangling in your face, “Yeah? What’s that.”

“Well,” you look heavenward, “I always wondered what it’ll be like to…have Aaron do arm curls while using me as weights—STOP!”

“Keep it up! I can do this all night!” Kelvin said between laughter.

The timer beeped on the oven, alerting you that the cookies were ready. Kelvin sucked his teeth before releasing you. He helped you up from the floor, but suddenly he lifted you up and tossed you over his shoulder. You wiggle your feet while he carried you towards the kitchen.

“Put me down before you drop me!”

Kelvin sat you down on the counter and grabbed the oven mitts. He took the cookies out and sat them on top of the stove. The smell of the freshly baked treat wafted your nose and made your mouth water.

“Why must you act up, Y/N? See, I would punish you…but you ain’t ready for that.”

You fold your leg over the other and tilt your head.

“What exactly is a punishment from Mr. Harrison entail?”

“You ain’t ready for that, Y/N.”

Kelvin removed the mitts.

“I’m a head out. I gotta get up early to train and take care of some other shit before I come scoop you for the fair…”

You were too late at hiding your disappointment. Kelvin worried his brows and pouted his lip.

“Awww I’ll miss your annoying ass too.” Kelvin walked up to you and gave you a kiss to the cheek, “Get some sleep. I want you energized for the fair tomorrow. We got a lot of shenanigans to get into, ma!”

Kelvin snatched up his keys and slipped on his crocs. You were still stuck on the kiss that tingled your cheek. His lips were indeed soft like a Tempur-pedic mattress. Probably tasted good to. His mouth had to taste good.

“Come walk me to the door.”

You hop down from the counter and follow Kelvin. He opened the door, pausing with his head against it and giving you a dreamy look that had you giggling.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N. Take your ass to bed.” Kelvin grabbed your hand and kissed it like a gentleman.

“Dream about me like I know you will.”

He licked his lips slowly, hazy eyes falling to your lips.

“I just might.”

——

Stay tuned for part two! 😍

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter @dashhoney25

[leyavo]

The TF141 guys when you mention you’re trying to romanticise your life:

John’s the only one that questions it, knows he’s not in the loop with trends/slang etc. “What do you mean darling?” And he starts romanticising his own morning routine. A nice black coffee, your drink of choice too waiting for you. some music playing as he gets dressed for the day.

Planning shared time with you later, having a bath together and little candles flickering on the side. He also values his alone time and has a bubble bath, cigar and a glass of whisky. Getting himself some fancy pens, the ink smooth so it makes writing up all those reports so much easier and more fluid. He takes time to check in on your day too, a text here and there when he’s not busy or weighed down with work.

Simon’s panicking, thinking he’s been neglecting you. He’s getting you seasonal flowers, bright tulips or daffodils in spring etc. buying you your favourite chocolate. He’s doing little things like ironing your shirt for work or packing your lunch when he gets time. It’s not till you confront him about doing all these little things do you realise he took it to heart.

“Si, I meant romanticising my day, the mundane things I can do to make me feel a bit better.” After convincing him he does enough and he’s romantic in his way he begins to think. Simon then starts small by adding a hazelnut syrup to his black coffee in the morning. Washing his mask more often too, a ritual after each op where he hand washes all the sweat and dirt as if cleansing himself of the sins.

Johnny’s thinks romanticising his day is day dreaming about you and how you smell so good. How he’d like to have his way with you before you go to work. But in all seriousness, Johnny journals (like in the game). He’s got one for work and one for his home life, some pages are scribbled mess of writing and sketches, of you, of little things that catch his eye (also you).

He’s got a box full of journals under the bed, sometimes he likes to read them, connect with who he was years ago and appreciate who he’s become. Loves reading back on your first dates and what he thought you (man’s a dog). Adds some more notes in the margain “we married them.” “You did get laid this night.” Maybe he’ll even show you some of them one day.

Kyle’s knows exactly what you mean, you’re always trying to add more intention to your day and being present. Kyle understands and uses the present as an anchor to stop him spiralling with his job. He calls them glimmers, how when the sunlight steals his attention and reminds him to breathe and stop overthinking.

He makes time for himself to stretch as soon as he gets out of bed, create small moments in between his fast paced job. Loves reading fantasy books, dragons preferably and designates his time before bed to read at least one chapter (you’re normally reading beside him too). Even part of an online fanclub for said book where he talks about theories for the next book in the series. Total nerd for it there like eight books already.

[nanamiskentos]

going to a cafe with the jujutsu kaisen men a/n: (based on irl experience with a wide variety of subpar men) 😭 gojo's order being my order...aurkay!

gojo — def the type to walk in and push his sunglasses down to check out the place. his order def goes something like a venti caramel macchiato with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla and two pumps of hazelnut, and a little caramel swirl at the top. smiles and is friendly to all the baristas, he's never rude to workers. tells the barista is gojo, with an o. whoever's unfortunate enough to be stuck next to him is doomed to hear him wax poetic about how coffee beans are the soul of the earth, and its 'really deep, you wouldn't get it lol'. if you order a black coffee, he'll ask if everything is okay at home. can't leave the cafe without ordering a $8.00 sweet treat and then wondering why all his purchases are adding up

geto — walks in as if he's a regular and tells the barista that he'll have his 'regular'. the barista has never seen him before. probably orders a flat white, double shot of espresso, no foam. he always says he doesn't have to pretend to like foam because he's chill like that. he'll ask for the wifi password, but only so he can show off how good he is at working in a cafe, but his ass is on coolmathsgames. will nod and pretend to care about whatever you're saying but he's still thinking about coolmathsgames. will also drop random metaphors like 'life is just like coffee. you either take it strong or with sugar.' you tell him to save the bad metaphors for his cult.

nanami — doesn't wander or hesitate when he enters the cafe. checks his watch every five minute. orders a black coffe, medium, and adds one packet of sugar. he's pretty good at ordering what he wants efficiently, and it leaves even the barista worried. he's here to relax so don't ask him any unnecessary question because this man needs a break. actually enjoys eavesdropping on people's conversations, and ends up tilting his angle to snoop on gossip better. avoids small talk like its another curse. you can't really make him react too much in a cafe, unless you spill coffee on his freshly pressed suit. will be passive aggressive and suggest that the cafe chooses better music. likes a good, dependable pastry. apple danishes are a favourite.

sukuna — prefers tea, without debate. but still orders relatively normal things. likes a good latte with chocolate syrup. but the king of curses kinda has to look cool, so he powers his way through a black coffee, with no sugar or milk. you swear his eyes are tearing up as he pretends to like it. after every sip of coffee, he sighs really loudly and it gets a bit annoying. even after you ask what's wrong, he says its nothing and continues to sigh loudly. nanami may be the one who eavesdrops, but sukuna is the one who interferes. will turn around in his chair to give unsolicited advice, but he genuinely thinks he's being helpful by telling schoolgirls to buy cleavers to chop their friends' hands off. is mildly offended when they move tables and give him weird looks. passes loud comments on other people and tells couples when he thinks they will breakup. attempts to connect to the wifi three times before threatening to burn the router.

toji — the barista asks if he wants a pastry with his drink and he asks 'do i look like the type of man to eat a muffin?' but if they're free, he'll take two. sits with his back to the wall like he's in a mob movie. god help anyone who sits too close to him, he really just doesn't trust anyone in his personal space. doesn't even acknowledge the existence of others until he's had at least three sips of his coffee. you could tell him his house is on fire, and he’d just mutter that he can't do anything about it now. types the wifi password on his phone with one finger like a caveman. tells parents to 'control their spawn' but entertains kids with coin tricks when no-one is looking. sometimes struggles to fit the lid on his go-to cup, and refuses to asks for help. wrestles with it for five minutes, getting increasingly annoyed before rushing out the door.

choso (this one is dedicated to pookie @creamflix) — frowns at the menu like it's written in an ancient language, like wtf is affogato. if someone behinds him coughs, he scolds them and says he's going as fast as he cans. spends 10 minutes deciding and then panics at the last second, tells the barista to give him whatever. if the barista asks any follow up questions (like milk preferences) he genuinely short circuits, "what kinds of milk are there?" he's genuinely baffled that there are options beyond 'cow.' he'll point at a pastry and ask what's in it. the barista explains and he replies with 'okay i trust you.' always ends up picking a wobbly table by accident and spends 15 minutes trying to fix it with folded napkins. if someone asks to share his table, he'll look like they just asked for his kidneys. if someone asks for his opinion on his pastry, its always a dumbass cryptic answer like 'its interesting.' uses his phone on full brightness and everyone can see him look up 'how to pronounce cafe au lait.' cleans up after himself because he's nice like that. if the staff get his order wrong, he never says anything even if it tastes like dirt.

[wisteriaiswriting]

Reader That Can Bake

Words: 1757

Includes: Dipper, Mabel, Stan, Ford, Wendy, Gideon, Pacifica and Bill

Honestly, he doesn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, but being young he still craves them a bit.

Knows the basics about baking in general but only with box sets, so he’ll stay out of your way in the kitchen.

Won't ever decline anything you give him, opting to either eat them right then and there, or hide them for later. (And away, safe from Mabel.)

Normally whenever he heard the sounds of someone in the kitchen, assuming it was Mabel, he would walk the other way immediately. But now that you’re spending more time in there he’ll take the gamble of peeking in, hoping it was you baking and not Mabel ready to drag him in.

This time he was lucky, finding you washing up all your used dishes and putting away the leftover ingredients. Standing in the doorway until you noticed, waving him over. “Dipper, you’re just in time!” Hopping on the spot as you stepped out of the way, revealing a whole bunch of cooled cookies.

“I tried some different flavours this time,” Grabbing one of each to shove into his hands, which he almost dropped. “There's classic chocolate chip, white chocolate, uhh… What else?” As you rambled and thought he took a bite of each, silently ranking them favourite to least favourite, not that he’d ever tell you.

“And oh! Hazelnuts, oreos and s'mores!” “You made s’more cookies?” “Yeah, this one was a small batch, I’ll get more stuff tomorrow.”

While yes, she bakes pretty often, you’ll always be the better chef around! (And she’s not afraid to admit it, sometimes.)

This girl will never shut up about ‘How good these are!’ ‘Even Waddles loves them!’ (It’s true, you have found him scarfing down a whole pile of your baked goods.)

Occasionally (And if you let her) she’ll join you, while she enjoys baking just spending time together is enough for her.

As soon as the door opened Mabel ran off, skidding into the doorframe. Smelling something very familiar and delicious. “ARE YOU BAKING AGAIN!” Your only response was to laugh, of course she would notice, really, you’d be an idiot thinking she wouldn’t.

“Yeah, they’re in the oven right now, so I’m just cleaning up.” “I’LL HELP!” God, she was excited about your baking. “Why don’t you pile up the dirty dishes while I start the sink.” In no time you had finished the dishes, everything was clean, dried and put away.

Reaching for a hanging cabinet, but this one was just out of reach. Stretching to your limit but unable to grasp the handle, about to turn around and ask Mabel for help only to be jolted upwards. Looking down to find Mabel's toothy grin looking right back atcha.

“Whatcha grabbing? More dishes? Decorations? Is it the icing? SPRINKLES!?” Laughing once again as you grabbed, as you could guess (And Mabel.) the icing and sprinkles. Being dropped back down when you had the items. “I think they’re ready for the toppings.”

Stan doesn’t go around flaunting his love for baked goods, but he doesn’t really hide it either.

But he does openly compliment anything you make, even if it’s not his favourite, he’ll make it positive.

He may not like to spend a lot of money on anything really, but he’ll throw you a wad of cash to buy whatever you need. (As long as he gets the first taste test.)

“Where ya going toots?” Arms wrapped around your waist, his head sitting on your head. One of your hands held your car keys, well, they were Stans but he’s given you permission to take the ‘Stanmobile’ out. “Gotta buy some more ingredients.”

His body pulled away from yours, hands digging into his suit pockets before pulling out a decent wad of cash. Grabbing a few notes (Which were 100s btw) and passing them over to you, “Make me my favourite later.” “Oh I will~”

He’ll scarf down plates full of your stuff, he hasn’t eaten anything this good in years! (And no he is not exaggerating, thank you!)

Always takes something with him on every adventure he goes on. (At first he was nervous to ask, but now he’ll try to ‘bribe’ you for anything. (Both of you know he doesn’t need to.))

Part of him is curious about how well supernatural ingredients would go, he would never force you to do it, but that means he would. So at least watch over him. (But by gods, don’t let him eat anything he makes. Who knows what would happen, and you don’t want to know.)

Hearing the front door slam open you peeked out of the living room, only to find Ford stumbling by, into the kitchen with a large box. After gently shutting the door (With this amount of abuse you don’t think it’ll last much longer.) you followed him, watching him pull and lay out plenty of things on the counter.

“Hope you were going to clean up after yourself?” “AH!” Throwing something between his hands for a few seconds before calming down, “Oh! Y/N, I was, don't you worry.” “With everything you brought in here? I will.”

Quietly laughing to himself, “I don’t blame you, but how well would these bake?” “Ford, honey, I just bake, you’re the one who knows about these guys.” Gesturing to the box, “I guess you’re right.”

Very similar to Stan in the sense, she won’t go out of her way to admit her love for sweeter things but will if asked.

If you’re willing to make more she’ll take a bunch for her friends. (They all love them, even if some won’t admit it.)

Brings some to work with her, which makes her shifts actually bearable.

“I’ll see you guys later.” Lifting her hand as a quick wave before turning to leave, “Wendy!” Looking back to find Lee rushing towards her, skidding to stop just before hitting her. Throwing her a now empty container, which surprisingly enough, was still in one piece. “You gotta bring more of those snacks, they were amazing!”

“I’ll let them know.” Now that she was finally able to leave the group, she started her tract home. Pulling out her phone to send you a quick message, nothing much really. (It was a whole paragraph.) Watching you respond, pause then send the message, along with a picture. ‘Already ahead of you!’

Tapping into the image to find you back in the kitchen, flour covered every surface. There were other ingredients on the floor and everything, really. She couldn’t stop her laughter, taking a pause in her steps to catch her breath. ‘I’m on my way, don’t make a bigger mess.’

Luckily she wasn’t that far from home, and it was also a good thing that her family loved you. (They wouldn’t let you live down that image.) Letting her spend the night to help you clean and finish baking.

Absolutely will not go anywhere near the kitchen when you’re in there. (He may love you, but he also loves being clean.)

This doesn’t stop him from rushing in the second everything is cleaned up, impatiently waiting until the food is finished. (You will have to stop him from eating them hot, because he will whine about being burned.)

Will never share them with anyone else, the only exception is at the Tent of Telepathy.

Placing the hot tray onto a cooling rack before shutting the oven door, it’s been hours since you started baking. As Gideon wanted some baked goods to hand out to anyone who comes by the Tent of Telepathy, and that meant you had to bake it all.

Although he made sure to pay you for it, so it wasn’t a complete loss. But that's when you heard a door slam open and footsteps running down the hall, watching as Gideon entered the room. His first stop was the currently cooling tray of cookies, not the others that were cool and in containers.

“Gideon do–” It was too late, his hand touched the tray first. “OW!” Guiding the hand under some running water as he complained, “Why were they hot?” “I just pulled them out from the oven, those ones,” Pointing at multiple containers put to the side, “Are for you.”

Huffing as he removes his hand from the water to dry it off, grabbing the containers before leaving the room.

Honestly, she never thought about baking in general really. (There’s always been butlers or chefs, or whatever to do it for her.)

Doesn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, but will eat any of your less sweet items. (It better not be messy, otherwise she’ll (lovingly) wipe it on you.)

Sometimes she’ll sit around and watch you bake, she secretly finds it interesting but it’s highly likely she won’t join you for a while.

“What did you make this time?” Even as her face showed disinterest her tone gave her away, “This one is funfetti!” Handing over the cupcake, watching as she made her way through the wrapper. Trying to avoid the icing, although she wasn’t successful, a small chunk smeared over her fingers.

Clearly unhappy with it, the fact you were waiting next to her and no tissues or anything nearby. Reaching over to ‘subtly’ wipe the icing onto your shirt. “HEY!” “These aren’t that bad.” “Don’t ignore me!” You tried to stand in front of her, except that she kept turning as well.

“Pacifica!” “You should probably check on the other ones.” Oh yeah, you probably should.

Sometimes you forget that he can actually eat as he doesn’t do it much. (That’s until you watch him eat some deer teeth. Which is so disturbing…)

There have been so many times where he comes to bother you for some food, then just leaves with it. (You have no clue what he does with them but you can only assume someone else* is eatting them. (*Ford))

He will try to bake on his own with ‘non-human’ ingredients even if you try to stop him. (They end up inedible, even to other demons. Like fuck, he’s terrible.)

It was fucking comical how Bill entered the room, floating through the window towards the tray of cookies. Staying afloat for a few extra seconds before dropping to sit on the counter, batting his eyelashes at you. “No Bill, they’re still hot.” “WHO CARES?” Grabbing a handful (Which was like 2.) before shoving it into his mouth (Eye? Honestly man, you have no idea anymore.). “Are they good at least?” “HMM, THEY'RE ALRIGHT. COULD DO WITH SOME ꀤꈤꁅꌃꀭꀸꈤꍟꊼ.” “What.”

[slattlicker]

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * not even a nut ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: he’s joked about it for years. until you actually need him. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

✧✧✧

“listen,” he says, voice thick with sarcasm as he squints at his monitor. “if your immune system gets taken out by a nut, maybe you don’t deserve to live.”

chat goes wild.

LMAO BRO STOP 😭 peanut free table OGs shaking rn

he takes a smug sip from his drink. “like. peanuts? really? couldn’t be me. survival of the fittest, baby.”

✧

cut to: the kitchen, maybe an hour later.

you’re barefoot. sleepy. rummaging through the groceries he brought in earlier. “you got the cookies?”

“bottom of the bag,” he calls from the other room. “they had that variety pack with the ones you like.”

you grin, tear it open. first cookie’s perfect—crunchy, buttery, chocolatey. the second… something’s off.

softer. smoother. something inside.

hazelnut.

your body reacts before your brain catches up—lips tingling, tongue swelling, throat cinching like a drawstring bag.

“schlatt?” you call out, too soft. too slow.

no answer—he’s mid-laugh, still reading superchats, voice echoing from the office.

you stagger down the hall, one hand gripping the doorway, the other pressed hard to your collarbone.

“hey,” you rasp. “hey—i think—i think i ate a bad one—”

he turns.

freezes.

then explodes into motion.

“fuck—okay—okay, c’mere—hey, baby, stay with me—shit—”

the headset clatters to the desk. his chair nearly topples. he’s on his knees in seconds, yanking open drawers, tearing through tangled cords and stray USBs.

chat's still flying on the screen behind him.

WAIT WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY— IS SHE OKAY??? SCHLATT HELLO????

“where the fuck is it—where—where—ah, fuck, got it—”

he tears the cap off the pen, hand shaking, eyes flicking to yours. they’re wide. scared. and so, so focused on you.

“you’re okay,” he says, voice barely holding steady. “i got you. i got you, alright?”

your fingers curl weakly into the front of his hoodie.

click. a sharp sting to your thigh, then heat—fast and fierce—rushing up your chest as air claws its way back in

you jolt. your knees don’t give—but before you can do anything, he’s lifting you.

arms around your back, under your legs, effortless like you weigh nothing at all.

your head tips against his chest, dazed and breathing again. his heart’s going a mile a minute...and if the epinephrine has anything to say about it, yours is too.

✧

he lays you gently on the couch. bundles you up in his hoodie, muttering under his breath the whole time. props you up, checks your pulse, gets you water, holds your hand even when it stops shaking.

but then—he pauses. grabs his phone.

“hi, yeah,” he says, pacing. “she had an allergic reaction. i just gave her an epipen. she’s breathing again, yeah, but we’re heading in. just letting you know we’re on the way.”

pause.

“got it. thanks.”

he hangs up. turns back to you.

“let’s go, sweetheart.”

✧

cut to: the car.

you’re buckled in. hoodie drowning you. flushed from adrenaline, but coherent again.

he’s flying down side streets like a bat out of hell. one hand white-knuckled on the wheel. the other gripping yours.

“i’m fine,” you mumble, breathless. “really.”

“you’re not.” his voice cracks. “you—fucking���you scared me.”

"sorry, j." a beat of silence. "...you're really strong, y'know."

The tips of his ears and his cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink at that comment.

"i'm really strong, huh? well you're really almost dead. how 'bout you focus on not dying, babe...and don't distract me. you're still recovering."

✧

they admit you quickly. give you a steroid shot. keep you under observation.

he doesn’t leave your side.

when the nurse says you’re stable, he exhales like he hasn’t in an hour. slumps a little. cups your cheek.

“i’m suing them,” he mutters. “seriously. nestlé. dead to me.”

“you’re gonna sue a billion-dollar company for me?”

“yes,” he says, deadpan. “i don’t even know why i gave my hard-earned money to that shitty company in the first place. their chocolate sucks. their morals suck. and now their cookies try to kill my girlfriend.”

you giggle—still shaky.

he kisses your knuckles, thumb brushing over them softly.

“never again,” he murmurs. “we’re checking everything from now on.”

✧

meanwhile, back at the house—the stream’s still running.

an empty chair. lo-fi music looping.

chat’s calmed down. sort of.

IS SHE OKAY?? MODS??? this beat kinda go hard tho i hope they’re ok but like he left the chillest playlist on for a medical emergency

✧✧✧

[mosswalk]

Primarch Headcanons: Ice-cream Edition

In honour of the wretched summer months, and the delicious ice-cream I thoroughly needed the other day, I've been thinking: what ice-cream flavours would the primarchs like?

Lion: Vanilla, occasionally a sneaky neapolitan. He's a simple man with simple needs, and he likes his one scoop vanilla ice-cream in a cone. When no one is watching? Rainbow sprinkles. Post-heresy? He no longer cares if anyone is watching, he's dunking that in the sprinkle tray.

Fulgrim: A connoisseur of ice-creams, a true enjoyer of the experience of melding flavours and deliciousness for a decadent cone of enjoyment. Hard to say which ones he loves the most, really, but he'll take three scoops in a cone, dunk that in purple sprinkles, add whipped cream, fluff, and wafers, fruity sauce, the whole ten yards. This is an indulgence and by the Emperor, he'll indulge. And post-heresy? The only thing that's changed is the portion size. And maybe some less uh... hinged flavours.

Perturabo: Believe it or not, Perty likes a very specific combo. One scoop of dark chocolate, one scoop of mint. Not mint chocolate chip, no no, it has to be one scoop of each, equal size, in a cup, not a cone. And he eats it with a spoon, one bite at a time. He's very particular, but it brings him a certain amount of joy. He makes a little origami structure out of the cup when he's done. It is somehow sparkling clean. Post-heresy? Nothing's changed, not even a galactic war can keep him from his rare, frozen treat.

Jaghatai: Going with his theme, I think he's lactose intolerant and thus avoids any milk-based treats. Instead, it's the sorbets. He's not picky and will pick a kaleidoscope each time. Has been seen enjoying a snowball of shaved ice and syrup, usually in rainbow colours.

Leman Russ: Oh he'd absolutely go for the bacon ice-cream when he realises it exists (and now you do too) but he'd go for pistachio too, sometimes mixing them together. Beyond that, he'll devour just about any ice-cream really, and he'll do so at an alarming rate. He doesn't get brain-freeze.

Rogal Dorn: He has two flavours he goes for, depending on the day, the time of day, the tilt of the planet, and the rotation of the sun. One is rocky road, in a cone. Because it is fortified with both soft (marshmallow) and hard (choccy bits) armour and this pleases him. The other is buttered pecan, in a cone. Because it surprises its consumer with harder pecan bits to chew, and he must remain vigilant, even when eating ice-cream. No toppings.

Konrad Curze: Surprisingly normal. He likes stracciatella ice-cream. There is nothing weird about it either, it's not infused with blood or pulverised bone, or fortified with the screams of criminals. It's regular vanilla with choccy drizzles inside. He'll get his ice-cream and go huddle in a corner somewhere, devouring it slowly, not because of any weirdness but because the sharp teeth are a bit temperature sensitive.

Sanguinius: To absolutely no one's surprise, he really likes strawberry ice-cream, with extra jam. Maybe with a sprinkle of choccy bits and a little dollop of whipped cream. His wings fluff up when he eats it. It's a little embarrassing.

Ferrus Manus: Had a little trouble with this guy, but he strikes me as someone who'd enjoy chocolate a lot. Either chocolate ice-cream, or vanilla doused in coco and chocolate sauce. Maybe with a sneaky hazelnut scoop now and again, for variety.

Angron: Shaved ice, and not too sweet. He likes a large snowcone with tiger's blood syrup. If that's not available, he likes any syrup but please don't mix it. Tiger's blood (watermelon, strawberry, coconut) is an exception cause it sounds metal as fuck and it's refreshing. Post-heresy? He doesn't eat much ice-cream anymore. But every so often, every so often, there's a rare moment where he can get a snowcone. And he gets a snowcone and forgets the world for a few blissful moments.

Roboute Guilliman: He's a simple man who likes simple things. He fucking loves tiramisu ice-cream. In a cone, please. Post-reawakening: He still loves tiramisu ice-cream but now he smiles a bit more when he has it. He can appreciate it so much more now.

Mortarion: Anything floral. If there's no flower-based ice-cream, he'll go for something with a subtle, refined, gentle flavour. Something just a little sweet, a little tart, a hint of ginger, you get the idea. In a paper-cup, so the risk of him actually touching (and sullying!) his ice-cream is lessened. Post-heresy: ... One of two things. Either we go with the happy route, that sometimes he secretly makes a little bit of ice-cream for himself, or the not-so-happy route of describing what Champions of Nurgle eat. I'd rather not do that last one, I'm in a good mood today.

Magnus: He loves watermelon and pineapple. One scoop of each, topped with poprocks, marshmallow fluff, and rainbow sprinkles. In a cup. Sometimes he's dumb and forgets to put his cup in the trashcan (he has things to DO!) He'll also make little sculptures in the fluff for fun, before eating it.

Horus: A cone with one scoop of salty licorice and one scoop of vanilla, with a little bit of hazelnut sprinkled on top and a slight drizzle of caramel. A slightly odd combination but he really enjoys it. And he sometimes forgets to get it all around, so occasionally melted ice-cream will drip over his hand and on his chest. Without a shirt. You're welcome.

Lorgar: He likes parfaits, so when it's ice-cream time, he likes passionfruit and mango, with whipped cream, in a cone. It's like a slightly colder parfait and it makes him happy. Post-heresy? He still gets his ice-cream now and again, when he can get the materials past angry Corvus outside. Erebus and Kor Phaeron gets no ice-cream.

Vulkan: He loves caramel. No matter what he picks, there will be caramel. He doesn't do the unholy trinity of caramel ice-cream doused in caramel sauce with caramel fudge bits on top though. He'll mix it up now and again, but caramel will always been incorporated somehow. Because caramel? Is sugar forged in fire and that really does something for him.

Corvus: Big dark birbman likes, to no one's surprise, dark chocolate. Bitter, sweet, lots of coco sprinkled on top. In a cone. Just one scoop though, no need to overdo it. Post-birddaemon? Rarely but sometimes he'll somehow get his hands on a cone of dark chocolate ice-cream and stand outside Lorgar's house, menacingly, while eating it.

Alpharius: Fuck knows. Sometimes he claims he doesn't even like ice-cream and yet the day before he was happily munching on a banasplit. Go figure.

Bonus #1 - Emperor: Anything with alcohol involved. Rum Raisin for instance. Whiskey ice-cream. Vodka-doused fruity ice-cream. If it has alcohol, he's reaching for it. And adding more alcohol. Man can't get drunk, so he's enjoying all the subtle flavours of booze and ice-cream mixing together.

Bonus #2 - Malcador: The fruitiest, sparkliest, girliest, most flamboyant ice-cream known to man, with sparklers, cocktail umbrellas, coloured plastic cocktail stirrers, you name it. He goes all out with this, because he stopped giving a fuck many years ago. And maybe, just maybe, he's ordering it just to fuck with other people.

[pirateprincessblog]

2 batteries away

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: if he can choose to spend time with someone else rather than you, daryl would do it. not because he hates you. he simply doesn't have any type of connection with you. and you are so young. but when rick demands that you join him on a scavenge hunt, he doesn't have much of a saying into it, and chooses to act unbothered. he also chooses to ignore the way you tease him the whole trip, your hips swaying just a bit more when walking than usual. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: daryl dixon x female reader 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: alexandria, pre-negan 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: big age gap, reader is half daryl's age 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, masturbation, breath-play, subtle ddlg, toys, subtle dacryphilia

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i am on season ten of twd (my first time watching) and it feels like this man's clothes keep getting tighter and tighter each episode and i am so here for it. also the way his arms magically always glisten in the sun as he subtly flexes when the camera is on him? give me a break I BEG

Also I miss Rick very much 🥺

*

"i have a special request. if i'm allowed to do that." a playful voice calls behind you.

you turn around, squinting. the sun is high up in the sky, and right in your eyes. you make out carol's short hair, and nod at her as a sign to keep speaking.

"i'm gonna need something i can make cookies or cakes with. hazelnut, chocolate, almonds,... you know. cake stuff." the woman smiles.

"i'm going out for ibuprofen and possibly viagra, not chocolate."

"viagra? for who?"

you chuckle under the cap rosita has given you, and try to subtly glance over at the man loading the car with weapons. he grunts, glaring at you and instantly shutting down the bullying party you wanted to start.

"i don't need no damn viagra." he slams the trunk door shut, and walks past you, intentionally pushing his shoulder into yours.

you fall a step back, holding in a laugh. carol has her hands on her hips, but her laugh isn't hidden. she knows daryl can't say anything to her.

"oh, come on. i know that you like to stay quiet and mysterious, but a little joking in hard times never hurt anybody." the woman defends you, scrunching her eyebrows at daryl.

"it's hurting me." he yells from the car, slamming the door shut.

"how am i supposed to survive this trip with him, ricky?" you complain, shoulders hanging with rising irritation with the situation.

"you survived a walker flooded prison with nothing but an axe before you found us on the other side, and you're telling me you can't survive a grumpy old man for a few hours?"

"thing is, i killed walkers. i cannot kill him. boo-hoo, the precious tracker. i also, when i see a footprint on the floor facing a certain way, know that someone is headed there. wild, right?"

rick pats your head, messing up the cap in the process just to tease you.

"bring me some shirts on the way back, i'm getting sick of these flannels. and get yourself something nice."

one would think that he gave you his credit card to buy him those shirts at the nearby mall. telling you to get yourself something nice, that idiot. the less fun truth is that you are headed towards a landfill two hours away from alexandria, in hopes of finding anything. glenn and morgan haven't had any luck for a few days now, so rick decided to change the route and the team. daryl and you, apparently, make a great one. that pain in the ass of a man.

"i'm leavin'. you stay and talk 'bout me all you wan'. i'm the one actually doin' something for this place."

"stuck up much? see," you open the car door, sitting inside annoyed, "with the viagra, you'd be a much more pleasant person to be around."

"enough with the damn viagra. fuck's the matter with you?"

"god, just start driving and drop me off somewhere in the middle of the road and i'll find my own shit from a different place. rick doesn't need to know."

"no," he simply responds, not sparing you a glance.

rick waves at you with a smile on his face, knowing damn well what he did putting the two of you together for such a long quest. he's so going to hear from you tonight. if you make it out alive while trying to kill daryl.

"so, what are you hoping to find? booze, peanut butter, new clothes? i'm starting to think you stapled those clothes to your body."

he says nothing, eyes focused on the road. you sigh. maybe you're the problem. you're poking him too much, knowing he has zero patience and doesn't very much like your company. you decide to keep quiet for the rest of the drive, only occasionally glancing over at him out of boredom.

you can't lie, he is an attractive man. you don't know why you're mean to him. he is gorgeous to you, your taste in older rugged men not failing you. you're surprised rick isn't the one you fell for. but next to daryl, he looks too... neat. daryl is just perfect. most of the time his deep raspy voice has you subconsciously rubbing and squeezing your thighs, led by a tingling sensation in your lower stomach. his clothes have recently gotten very tight on him, the buttons of his black shirt threatening to pop and give you a view of your lifetime. he has been working out a lot, you've seen him. fuck, not only have you seen him, you also stayed there, secretly snapping pictures with your polaroid your father had left you before disaster struck. you only had a few films left, yet no self control. something about seeing daryl all sweaty as he did push ups, grunting and almost moaning, thinking that nobody can see him, did things to you.

"wha'?" he asks, sensing your intense gaze.

you turn your head away, flushed. "nothin'."

"mmh."

he keeps it short and stern, and if your panties weren't drenched as your brain replayed the memory of his glistening arm muscles, you'd probably make a sassy remark. he raises an eyebrow, probably also wondering why you aren't being mean for so long now.

"shoes." he says after some time.

"what?" you ask, absent-mindedly staring into the tall trees and the walkers hidden among them.

"i'm hoping to find some shoes. it's gettin' hard to walk in these. i also hope i find sum more arrows."

you nod, surprised that he has actually graced you with an answer. you thought he'd say something like cigarettes or alcohol. you hated people who smoke. but daryl is an exception. he looks damn hot doing it.

"you?" he asks.

"well, new underwear would be nice. i ripped all my good panties, and let me tell you, these thongs are not apocalypse friendly."

"shit, girl, oversharing much?"

"what, you disgusted by female underwear?" you poke back, playfully.

"not female underwear. your underwear."

you're offended. you squint at him, and have to fight the urge to smack the back of his head.

"for your information, you don't look or smell all flowery and fresh yourself. i could use your hair to grease up carol's tray for her cakes. and your fingernails? they have their own ecosystem at this point."

and back to the bickering it is. he grunts again, furrowing his eyebrows. he secretly glances at his fingernails. indeed, they had a layer of dirt under them, but daryl thinks that he has bigger issues than some dirt that will get washed off anyway.

"oh, i also wish to find-"

"yeah, lost interest." the man interrupts. "also, for future conversations, you do not mention your... thongs... to people that are ol' enough to be your father."

ew.

ew.

ew.

he did not.

"what, is that how you see me? you could be my father?"

how utterly disappointing. there you were, sitting next to him, imagining him going feral between your legs, all while he is viewing you as his child. there goes your masturbating material for tonight.

"well the age fits the description."

"fuck you. seriously." you sigh, turning your body towards the window so you can fully ignore him.

arriving at the gates, you immediately notice a few things that you will be taking home. how foolish of you to not take a truck instead of the crusty old car.

"watch it." just as he says it, an arrow passes by your head, followed with a loud thud.

you don't have to look back to know that a walker had managed to sneak behind you, while you were foolish enough to stay swooning over his arms glistening in the sun with sweat.

"damn it, girl, i don' know what it is with you, but you gotta snap outta it. i can't keep saving ya ass."

"yes, dad." you reply, annoyed.

"hey." he calls, hand reaching to cup your jaw and turn your head towards him. "shut it before i make ya."

if it weren't for the feeling of his rough hand on your face and his raspy voice sending you a warning turning you on, you would've slapped him and told him not to touch you. but oh, you were going crazy inside. you found a new way to push his buttons, and you're going to have so much fun with it.

you walk behind him into the landfill, the smell of junk pinching your nose. daryl is also bothered by it, seeing his scrunched expression as he scanned the first piles of garbage.

"there." he points his crossbow a certain way.

you follow the invisible line, your eyes landing on what seemed to be several taped boxes. they could have three things inside: food, weapons, or traps. weird how nobody has discovered this place yet. or maybe they have, and they took all valuables already.

daryl doesn't wait for you. he makes his way towards the boxes, keeping his crossbow ready if something goes wrong. you, on the other hand, have tucked your knife safely and are walking around like there isn't walkers scratching at the fence, waiting to sink their teeth into your skull.

"dammit."

you hear rattling. you turn around, only to find the man kicking the boxes angrily. the can he has just thrown on the floor rolls up to your feet, and you crouch down to examine it. it is food, but expired. eating it would be like playing russian roulette.

"i mean, we can still... ya'know, take it with us. what happens happens."

"dixon, if i'm gonna die, i'm gonna die from a bullet or a bite. not from a rotten macaroni."

he raises an eyebrow at you, amused with your laid back attitude. he doesn't give you much attention, just silently walks next to you while scanning his side of the landfill.

"ah, sweet!" you cheer, running towards a pile.

"wha'?"

you almost trip over the broken wooden chairs, trying to get to a certain little box in the pile.

"the hell are ya doin'? we're losin' time!"

your eyes instinctively roll at his voice. you know he has nothing smart to say. finally reaching the box, you jump back on the floor, eagerly opening it. seeing that the item still has the foil sealed on it, you victoriously raise it in the air, cheering.

"you have made it a goal for yourself to die today, didn't ya?"

"nah, not anymore. i found something that will keep me occupied and will fuel my will to live a little longer."

you continue your way forward, leaving daryl to stare at the box you have discarded, trying to figure out what it is. but he has decided he has no time for your immaturity. he needs to ask rick to not ever put him with you on a hunt again. he's lost a lot of time already, and hasn't found a single thing to bring back.

"clothes." you point, the pile of fabric sitting on top of a garbage hill.

"you gonna go get 'em?"

"why would i go? you go."

"you wanted your... thongs... so, you go get that."

you scoff, setting the newly acquired item on the ground and slowly climbing up the hill.

"what is this, anyway?" his curiosity wins.

you sit on top of the pile, examining the clothes and discarding the ones with holes in them.your eyes dart to the man below you, and you chuckle when you see him crouch and take the item in his hand.

"it's a wand."

"wand?"

"yes."

"for?" he keeps pressing, his eyes never leaving the pink gadget.

"masturbating."

thud.

you look down, mortified. he better not break it.

"careful with that, what's the matter with you?!"

"you're fuckin' crazy, girl."

you silently mock him, sticking your tongue out at him and repeating his words with exaggerated face expressions. he really gets on your nerves. you gather the clothes you have found into a bed sheet, tying it up and putting it over your shoulder, then pick up the gadget from the floor. it seems alive, it didn't break. you only hope it works. you're young, inexperienced, surrounded by people that are either too young or too old for you. though, the old part never was a problem for you, it was for them.

feeling bored, you decide to keep poking him. he is just so grumpy, and silent. and inviting to irritate.

"so, dixon, you've never heard about one of these?" you wave the gadget in front of his face.

he spares you a glare, and continues walking.

"come on, we're talking. nobody's around. tell me, since all of this started, how many times have you even approached a girl? do you even mastu-"

"'m not in the mood to be picked on right now."

"i'm not picking on you. i promise. just trying to converse."

"you want to be useful? hold this. it's in my way." he throws his vest at you, now only wearing a tight black t-shirt.

you scowl at him, shoving his vest into your backpack.

"you're so fun to be around. i get why rick put us together."

he grunts, leaving you behind. rolling your eyes, you go down a different path, hoping to find something useful to all of alexandria and not just you. turning a few lefts, you find yourself standing in front of a little shed like structure. you bang on the door with your foot, and when hearing no growls, you bravely enter. it is dusty and dark, with a singular armchair and a few cupboards.

you open each one of them, happily shoving all the food you managed to find into your backpack, opening a protein bar along the way and chewing on the oats and dried fruits. you missed having those with yogurt for breakfast.

not only will carol be happy with the amount of nuts and flour you have found, rick will be proud of you. you might even ask for a reward when he sees the amount of canned tuna and jam you have found. you forgot what pancakes taste like.

after clearing the room, you peek out the window. daryl is in the distance, going through piles and kicking stuff out of his way, as if playing. you've collected way more than him, and the sun is at it's highest point. the shaded room seems like a perfect place to take a nap, or just rest your feet and ears from him.

you plop on the armchair like a star washed up on the shore. it feels so lonely lately. rick has michonne, carl has enid, rosita has her boytoys, even gabriel might be having more fun than you. as wrong as it was, you stay up listening to the noises coming across the street. they're loud, there's no way you could ignore them even if you wanted to. even rick had to step in and ask them to be quieter. but what is a problem to someone else is a solution for you. is it wrong to touch yourself while listening to someone else fucking? yes. but is it the only way that works for you? also yes.

you eye up the toy that peeks from the backpack, then glance out the window. daryl is busy with his crossbow, having found something that he could use on it.

fuck it.

you unbuckle your pants, not bothering to take off the panties. your fingers are quick to pop the batteries that come with the package in the gadget, and when the lid clicks, you admire it for a second. there it is, in all its glory. waiting to be abused every day by you, until you find a replacement. hopefully a softer and live one.

taking off the thin protective foil from the head, you position yourself on the armchair. you glance at the window again, carefully monitoring daryl. now, if you thought that eavesdropping and touching yourself was bad, what was this? watching daryl's fingers work on his crossbow, arms glistening in the sun, all while the pink toy softly vibrates on your pulsating clit.

you sigh at the newfound pleasure, rubbing the toy up and down your slit, while your eyes stay focused on the man unaware of your situation. he probably even forgot about you. or is thankful that you have left him alone. even better for you. you get to be a pervert without him ever knowing.

you arch your back, throwing your head on the backrest as you focus on chasing the release. it's been awhile, it won't take you long. your eyes open again, just enough to see if the man is still in his spot. your fingers change the vibration strength on the gadget, and instantly, you gasp. it is so intense, and so much, but you don't want it to stop. this thing is your new best friend, you better get used to it.

something else peeks out of the backpack, the leather catching your attention and giving you an idea. like an animal in heat, you grab the vest, burying your nose into it and spreading your legs further. daryl's scent takes over your senses, making you lose control and become a moaning mess. you are getting wetter by the second, the toy now slipping up and down your slit with ease and giving you maximum pleasure.

"fuck- daryl-" you can't help but gasp, enveloped in his manly scent and fabric.

your hips hopelessly rub against the toy, chasing and chasing after something that isn't quite getting closer, even though it feels like it.

"the hell?"

your eyes widen at the interruption. you drop the vest in your lap, hiding the crime scene from him. the man stands at the door, expression unreadable. yours is one of horrified mixed with desire, the way he stares down at you angrily sending arrows to your core.

"daryl- i- did you, uh, find anything?" you try to play it off, foolishly.

"yeah. i found an animal in heat it seems. couldn't wait for alexandria to do that shit?"

"I-"

"is that my vest?"

he slams the door shut, leaving you two in darkness. you gulp, moving the gadget from your core and letting your panties fall back in place.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" you stutter, failing to put a sentence together while he intensely glares at you.

"ya ain't sorry." he grunts. "ya know why i despise being around your ass? you're inappropriate."

"no, look," you try, but he points a finger at your face, making you close your mouth.

your eyes burn, tears announcing their arrival.

"it's not like that-"

"shut up, dammit! i'm talkin' now! do you have any idea in how many uncomfortable situations you've  put me? all those snarky dirty comments, all that flirting, now this? do you understand what that does to me?!"

he's yelling, frustrated and angry with you. but why are you getting wetter? why can't you think rationally? he is scolding you for being inappropriate, and you continue to be even more inappropriate by sexualising simple yelling. not your fault he looks damn hot while he does it, though.

"you're- you're half my age. i can't allow myself to play your games, no matter how tempting."

what?

"what will alexandria think? they already have no good opinion on me. engaging with someone half my age the way you want me to engage is- it is a horrible idea. i'll be out faster than i was in."

silence swallows the room. you still lay on the armchair, half naked with his vest covering you. he paces around the room, fingers running through his hair as he tries to gather his thoughts. you think whether it's time to finally say something, but you wait another moment. you need to gather your thoughts too.

tempting, he said. so he thought about it too. he saw past your jokes, and has been controlling himself so well. if only you knew what it would take to shatter that control, even for just a moment.

"since when do you care what other people think?" you start.

"since rick chose to trust me."

you hum, understanding.

"listen-"

"so you've been thinking about it." you're the one to interrupt now.

his head snaps up, looking at you with his eyebrow raised, as if asking you where you're going with that statement.

"there's nothing wrong with it. it's not like we're getting married or something."

"i'm older than you. way older than you."

"so?"

"i could be your father."

"if you say that word to me one more time i swear i will turn this landfill upside down to find another sex toy to shove up your asshole."

"why do you get so triggered by it?"

you roll your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. you press your thighs together, missing the warmth and buzzing from earlier. fun killer.

"because."

"why?"

"doesn't matter."

"tell me," he presses further.

you finally look at him, frustrated. "because i have fucking daddy issues and the thought of you being so much older than me turns me on. there."

you get up from the armchair, putting his vest on so that you can cover yourself. it almost reaches your knees, hiding your body from his gaze. he says nothing, and does nothing for a few moments. you have your back turned to him, hands resting on the counter of the half chipped kitchen cabinet. your head hangs low with embarrassment from the confession that just left your mouth.

tears stream down your cheeks, luckily hidden by your hair. but daryl doesn't miss the little sniff that comes your way. he sighs, then paces around the place a little more. when you don't hear him anymore, and finally face the fact that nothing will be the same with him anymore, you dare turn around. you almost gasp when you come face to face with him, his chest pressing against yours.

"wha- what are you-"

"shh..." he hushes you, eyes roaming your face.

you aren't sure what to do, or what he wants to do. if he tries to comfort you by giving you a hug, you will break down. and you will never face him again. you thought it was only sexual, but the way he looks at you and hushes you as you cry is awakening new emotions inside of you. ones that you will push down for now, because it is not the time.

"daryl, i'm sorry." you hiccup, genuinely feeling sorry for ruining whatever you had with him.

you feel his hands on the back of your thighs, and before you can react, he picks you up and places you on the counter. you instinctively spread your legs, letting him in closer.

"don't be. or else i might regret this."

you look at him doe eyed as he places his hand on your neck, gently holding you just beneath your jaw and softly pressing into the sides of it. he brings his head close to you, eyes half closed as he stares at your lips.

"daryl." you whisper, not sure of this anymore.

"just hush."

and with that, he presses his lips into yours, softly moving them with rhythm only known to the two of you. his other hand caresses your thigh, then creeps to your bottom and pulls you to the edge of the counter, enough to have your crotch press against his.

you can taste your tears while you kiss him, and he probably can too. he doesn't say anything, hell, you even feel him twitch between your legs. you grind on him, unable to control yourself. it is different than the wand. it's warm, and it responds back. it's better.

"hey," you call, slowly pulling away. "i don't want you to do this because you feel sorry for me or something like that. are you doing it because of that?"

"nah."

before you can continue bombarding him with questions and overthinking, he places his lips back on yours, this time a little rougher than before. you open your mouth, tongue eager to taste him properly. and fuck, he tastes good. you hated cigarettes and alcohol, but from his mouth, you adore it. you finally give in, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly close. finally.

it doesn't take long for him to have you whining and grinding on him, wanting more than just kissing and thigh grabbing and occasional choking. you beg into his mouth, quietly at first, but with each kiss he gives you, you become louder and more demanding.

"touch me, please, please, please," you're desperate.

he smiles, for the first time in a while, and snakes his hands under your top. you hurriedly take off the vest and the top, to make it easier for him, but he pulls his vest back on your body. you are now wearing nothing but panties and the leather vest, making daryl incredibly impatient.

"ya just needed some attention, didn't ya?" he kisses your neck, his hand cupping your breast and thumb playing with the hard nub. "some sense fucked into ya to shut that mouth."

for someone that almost never talks, he is quite the talker now. and you can't complain, when his words have you clenching around nothing down there.

"needed someone older to take care of ya."

you moan at his words, spreading your legs further and raising your hips into his crotch. his hand reaches down to your panties, landing a light slap on your clothed clit as a warning. there's growling outside of the shed, but not enough to make you care. you'll get what you want, and no amount of walkers will stop you, even if it'll be your last.

daryl moves your panties aside, pulling away from you to see you. he hums, thumb coming to contact with your clit and circling it a few times. you shake under his touch, throwing your head back. it isn't something you haven't done before, but the touch is foreign, and different. his fingers are rough and big, an opposite of the soft flesh of your clit. he rubs your slit up and down, enough to smear your arousal so he can touch you better.

"fuck..." you trail, grabbing the edges of the counter and digging your nails into the hard surface.

"didn't find a boy your age to open you up?"

you shake your head. he hums again, fingers now circling your tight entrance.

"that's a shame, then. i'm gonna have to take my time with you."

"what? why?" you ask, disappointed.

"i'd split you in half, little one."

every word in that sentence sent arrows to your core. fuck, just how big is he?

"then, what are we doing?"

he turns around, leaving you yearning for his touch while he grabs your discarded toy from the armchair.

"you share toys?"

"sometimes."

"good."

he pulls himself out from his pants, and you are left with your jaw dropped. it fuels his confidence, the way you're staring at him as he rubs himself up and down. he isn't big. he's huge.

"daryl, how will that fit in me?" you ask, actually concerned.

"it'll take a little time. i'll train ya, and you'll take it like a good girl, the way i teach ya. but ya have to start listening to me and stop pissing me off."

nodding eagerly, you push your hips towards his hands, searching for his touch again.

he turns the gadget on, pressing it against your clit. you moan out loud, grinding on the buzzing toy and sliding with ease. you hear him grunt, and even a quiet moan. your eyes drop to the situation between your legs, and when you see him pressing his cock to the gadget, you swear you could squirt all over him. he rocks his hips with yours, pushing you up against the wall and grunting in your mouth, just like you moan into his. he doesn't break eye contact with you, instead getting off on it.

"i'm gonna cum, daryl." you whine, hands reaching into his hair to pull.

"give me a second."

you'd give him two if he wanted. you try your hardest to focus on not yet cumming, but the way he sweats and grunts for you doesn't make it easy.

"daryl-" you warn, moans becoming high pitched and inviting the walkers around the shed.

he sticks two fingers in your mouth, keeping you silent and helping himself get closer. you only needed to swirl your tongue around him a few time and take him all the way to his knuckles to have him moaning and cumming all over your stomach, rubbing the toy up and down in a sloppy pace.

you follow, pleasure washing over your body along with a thin layer of sweat, the sight of his seed on you making it more intense. you are dehydrated, hot and filthy. and you love it, because he is the same. you'd be like that every day, if it meant getting him the way you just had him.

"you didn't have to..." you say as he helps you dress up, wiping his seed from you with his bandana and discarding it.

"i wanted to. before, today, too."

"you sure?"

"yes."

you nod. he sees that you are not convinced, and he sighs. he pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"i rarely regret my actions. trust me."

"yeah, well, i hope i'll get more of these actions you speak of."

he chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you know, for someone who just came all over me, it's weird to see you so sentimental and comforting."

you don't even finish the sentence, he already playfully throws the bandana at you, rushing outside to hide his smile and to hide from your attempt at attacking.

"oh, you- you- you asshole!"

"right back at ya."

***

yippie! my first twd oneshot, idk how to feel about it lol. had this in the drafts for a while now. feel free to send feedback, doesn’t matter if it is good or bad 🩷

[pucksandpower]

Something Sweet

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the story of your relationship … as told through gelato (in honor of Charles opening an ice cream shop)

The warm spring sun beats down on your face as you stroll along the winding streets of Monaco, gelato in hand. You savor each sweet bite, the rich hazelnutty flavor melting across your tongue.

This is bliss.

You just moved here to attend university and every day feels like a dream come true exploring your new home principality.

The picturesque buildings with their sun-baked stucco walls and colorful tiled roofs line the narrow alleyways. Locals bustle about, chatting rapidly in French as scooters whiz by. The air carries a tang of salt from the glittering Mediterranean just beyond the palace ramparts.

You could get used to this.

Suddenly, a body careens around the corner, slamming right into you. You stumble backward as the gelato goes flying, splattering across the quaint cobblestones in a sticky mess.

“Oh mon dieu, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” A frantic voice rings out as a pair of strong hands steady you before you can topple over completely.

You look up, slightly dazed, into a pair of warm green eyes filled with concern. The man is clad in athletic shorts and a snug t-shirt, damp with sweat from an obvious run. Tousled chestnut hair flops across his forehead in an effortlessly tousled way.

He’s … incredibly handsome.

Like, stupid levels of handsome.

“I’m fine, really,” you stammer out, feeling your cheeks flush as his hands linger almost ... protectively on your arms. “Just clumsy me dropping my gelato.”

He grimaces, following your gaze to the melting puddle. “I’m such an idiot, let me replace that for you.” His face is the picture of remorse as he gently releases his grip.

You wave him off with an awkward chuckle. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal ...”

But he’s already shaking his head adamantly. “No, no I insist. That looked delicious and it’s entirely my fault.” He shoots you a lopsided grin that makes your heart skip a beat. “I know this amazing little place that makes the best gelato in Monaco. My treat to make up for barreling into you like that.”

You can’t help but be charmed by his earnestness as you nod slowly in acceptance. “Well, when you put it like that ...”

“Perfect!” He beams at you, that bright smile crinkling the corners of his eyes in the most delightful way. “I’m Charles, by the way.”

You introduce yourself as well as Charles begins leading you deeper into the winding backstreets, clearly knowing exactly where he’s going. You can’t help stealing sidelong glances at him as you walk, admiring the strong muscles of his arms and shoulders visible through his fitted shirt.

Finally, he ducks into a tiny alleyway, stopping before an unassuming doorway you surely would have just passed right by. A faded sign hangs above reading Gelatomania in curling script.

“This place is my favorite,” Charles confides in a conspiratorial murmur as he holds the door for you. “Family-run for generations and miles better than any of the touristy places.”

You step inside and are immediately enveloped in a thick, sugary aroma that makes your mouth water. A few little metal tables with rickety chairs are squeezed into the compact space, but it’s the immaculate glass cases lining the walls that draw your eye.

Filled with every flavor imaginable, the gelato looks utterly divine — from naturally green pistachio to decadent chocolate hazelnut to tangy lemon. An older woman with a grandmotherly face greets Charles like an old friend in rapid Italian from behind the counter.

He responds easily in kind before turning back to you. “What’ll it be? I recommend the hazelnut again if you liked your first one.”

You nod and watch, utterly charmed, as Charles places your order for a fresh hazelnut gelato with a deferential “per favore” and that knee-weakening smile of his. He gets a simple vanilla for himself before paying and leading you over to a little iron table outside in a sliver of sunshine.

You take your first bite and … oh my god. This is gelato from the heavens themselves. You can’t contain the downright blissful moan that escapes your lips as the divinely creamy, rich concoction melts across your tongue.

“Good, right?” Charles looks incredibly pleased at your rapturous reaction as he digs into his own treat with gusto.

“This might be the single most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted,” you admit fervently between increasingly enthusiastic licks and bites. “How have I survived this long without knowing this place existed?”

Charles throws his head back with a full-bellied laugh at your passionate proclamation. God, even his laugh is unfairly attractive ...

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he grins around a mouthful of velvety vanilla. “I’ve been coming here since before I could walk. Quickly became my favorite gelato spot.”

“You’ve lived here a while then?” You ask between savoring bites of the impossibly luscious confection. “I only just moved for university.”

Charles nods as he licks a stray drip from his thumb. “Yeah, born and raised a few streets over actually.”

There’s a slight lull as you both focus on thoroughly demolishing your gelato for a few contented minutes, exchanging occasional muffled hums of sheer delight. The warm sun filtering through the awning casts a soft golden glow over the little alleyway, lending everything a dreamlike haze of perfection.

“So beyond being from here, do you have any exciting hobbies or interests?” You ask eventually, dragging the conversation back into the open.

“Well ...” Charles’ expression morphs into one of almost sheepish amusement as he leans back in his rickety chair. “You could say my hobby is also kind of my job. I’m actually a Formula 1 driver, believe it or not.”

You damn near choke on your next bite as his words register. “You’re what? As in ... a race car driver? In Formula 1? Seriously?”

There’s no way this stunning man is being truthful. Sure, he looks like he could be some kind of athlete with that perfectly toned physique. But a literal professional race car driver? The thought is almost too crazy to be believed.

Charles just laughs again at your dumbfounded reaction, clearly used to this response as he nods. “Seriously! I compete for Ferrari if you follow the races at all?”

You think you might pass out from shock as everything clicks into place — the athletic build, the way people seemed to stare as he passed them on the street, the laid-back confidence and easy smile of someone incredibly comfortable in their own skin ...

“Oh my god, you’re ... you’re Charles freaking Leclerc, aren’t you?” You gape at him in abject disbelief. “As in, the guy literally plastered on the huge billboard across from my apartment? Leading the championship? Incredibly talented and famous?”

He lets out an almost bashful chuckle at your rapid-fire incredulous questioning, shrugging one broad shoulder. “Well, I don’t know about incredibly talented or famous. But yes, that’s me — just your average local race car driver currently making an absolute mess while eating gelato.”

Here you sit, having just shared an utterly divine dessert while shamelessly ogling one of the most popular and well-known athletes in the damn world … and he’s acting like it’s absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Like you’re just two regular people enjoying a sweet treat together on a sunny day.

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation right now,” you murmur, shaking your head slowly. “Do you have any idea how many people would kill to literally just ... sit across from you like this while you eat mediocre gas station ice cream, much less the world’s best gelato? I’m … stunned you’re so nonchalant about this whole thing.”

Charles merely flashes you a self-deprecating grin as he pops the last bite of cone into his mouth. “Well, to me you’re not some screaming fangirl, but just a lovely new friend I enjoy gelato with. Though my ego certainly appreciates the compliments.”

He winks at you impishly and you feel an unwitting smile tugging at the corners of your own lips despite your lingering disbelief. You suppose being surrounded by such incredible wealth and luxury every day in Monaco, Charles likely doesn’t register it anymore. Not to mention the clearly down-to-earth personality he seems to possess given that genuine humility.

The hours just seem to slip effortlessly by then as the two of you continue to chat and laugh and bask in the perfect afternoon contentment of the moment. Charles regales you with ridiculous behind-the-scenes stories about increasingly crazy bets with his friends and crew during the season. You share equally hilarious tales of your own coming-of-age mishaps as an overeager teenager.

At some point, you both reach for your long-empty dishes simultaneously, fingers brushing in a spark of contact that sends your pulse stuttering. Charles doesn’t pull back, letting his hand linger outrageously close to yours as his warm gaze stays locked intensely on your face.

You try to swallow past a suddenly dry throat as the atmosphere shifts abruptly, suddenly heavy with the hot crackle of unmistakable chemistry and unspoken tension. But then, just like that, the moment passes as quickly as it came.

Your phone buzzes loudly in your pocket with a text, the notification startling you both back to reality. Charles sits back, clearing his throat slightly as you pull your hand away to quickly check the message.

It’s from your roommate asking when you’ll be home for dinner and if you need her to start cooking.

You glance up at Charles with an apologetic grimace. “I should probably head back. I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten.”

He blinks rapidly before seeming to visibly shake himself. “Right, of course! Time really got away from us, didn’t it?”

You stand as Charles rises smoothly to his feet as well, shoving both hands casually in his pockets. “So ... I had a really great time with you today,” he says carefully, something almost hesitant flickering across his face. “And I’d love a chance to take you out again sometime soon, if you’re interested? Maybe grab dinner when I’m back in town?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the unmistakable request for an actual date. With Charles freaking Leclerc no less ...

Tamping down your sudden nerves, you nod slowly as a shy smile blossoms on your lips. “I’d really like that,” you admit truthfully. “Let’s definitely do dinner whenever you’re free.”

His whole expression brightens immediately at your affirmation, lips stretching in a wide grin of pure delight. “Perfect! I’ll be back from my next race in just over a week then. How about exchanging numbers so I can let you know as soon as I’ve returned?”

You quickly rattle off your number as Charles punches it into his phone before doing the same for you. As if sealing some unspoken deal, he sticks out his hand to shake yours, that warm roughened grip lingering perhaps a moment longer than strictly necessary.

“I’ll text you soon then,” Charles murmurs intently, that spark of heat flickering in his eyes again. “Promise me you’ll say yes this time.”

You can only nod mutely, mouth gone bone-dry at the pointed words and heated look washing over you. Charles maintains that blistering eye contact and heart-stalling grip on your palm for another loaded handful of seconds, leaving you dizzy with giddy anticipation.

Then, just like that, he releases your hand with one final squeeze before taking a step back, seemingly satisfied by your stunned agreement. Charles shoots you one last lingering look and crooked grin before turning to stride easily back the way you came.

You remain rooted in place for a long moment, utterly dazed by the entire surreal scenario as you watch his broad shoulders and narrow waist disappear down the narrow alleyway.

Today started out as any other nothing-out-of-the-ordinary spring day in your new home. But now … now you have an actual date scheduled with an unbelievably charming and disarmingly down-to-earth racing superstar.

A giddy giggle bubbles up from deep in your chest as reality finally settles in. Who could have ever predicted that bumping into your new acquaintance — quite literally — would lead to not only discovering the most heavenly gelato on the planet, but lining up a date with an internationally famous athlete?

Suddenly, your bright future studying in Monaco just got about ten thousand times more interesting …

***

The week passes by in a blur of anticipation after your initial meeting with Charles. You can barely focus during lectures, your mind constantly wandering to that charming grin and those warm eyes crinkling at the corners whenever he laughed.

Finally, the evening you’ve been eagerly awaiting arrives. You’ve just finished getting ready — pulling on a flowy sundress and brushing out your hair one last time — when your phone buzzes with a new text.

I’m outside whenever you’re ready for our date night. Looking forward to seeing you again 😘

You can’t bite back your giddy smile as you quickly reply that you’re heading out before taking one last steadying breath.

It’s just Charles … the internationally famous and absurdly handsome Formula 1 driver you’ve somehow managed to snag a date with.

No big deal at all.

The evening air carries a pleasantly cool breeze as you exit your apartment building, scanning the idling line of vehicles for Charles’ car. You spot him immediately, leaning against the gleaming metallic side of what you now recognize as an eye-wateringly expensive Ferrari.

Charles looks … unfairly gorgeous. He’s shed his athletic wear in favor of a simple white linen shirt and tailored slacks that somehow make him appear even more effortlessly suave. His hair is artfully tousled and damn if those clothes don’t accentuate every hard plane and corded muscle of his built frame.

You must be staring because suddenly Charles is pushing off from the car and straightening to his full height, those intense eyes crinkling warmly as soon as they land on you.

“You look stunning,” he murmurs appreciatively once you’ve drawn closer, making a show of trailing his gaze slowly up and down your figure. You’re abruptly grateful for the dusky twilight hiding your furious blush at the blatant admiration in his tone.

“Thanks,” you manage to get out without your voice shaking too noticeably. “You don’t look half bad yourself, race car man.”

Charles throws back his head with one of those deep-bellied laughs you’re quickly becoming addicted to. “Why thank you, gelato girl.” He shoots you a wink before surprising you by gallantly offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You take it without hesitation, reveling in the solid warmth of his bicep pressed against your side as Charles leads you to the waiting glossy black sports car. He opens the door for you like an old-fashioned gentleman, closing it carefully once you’re tucked inside the buttery leather interior.

The engine roars to life with a powerful rumble and you can’t resist shooting Charles an impressed look as he deftly maneuvers out onto the street.

“You know, I’m starting to think this little hobby of yours might not be too bad of a gig,” you tease lightly, waving a hand at the sleek interior compartment.

“I can’t complain,” Charles volleys back with a crooked grin, seamlessly navigating the tight turns of the old city. “Sometimes they even let me drive in circles really fast just for fun.”

You roll your eyes at his retort, but can’t quite wipe the smile off your face as Charles guns the engine, the car surging forward in a burst of speed and power. Clearly the man knows how to leverage any opportunity to show off those expert driving skills … not that you mind one bit.

Eventually, Charles pulls up in front of an unassuming doorway you never would have noticed tucked down a quiet side street. The understated sign above simply reads Trattoria Giovanni.

“This place has been run by the same Italian family for over fifty years,” Charles explains as he holds the door for you. “Best authentic cuisine in the city, but you would never find it unless you knew where to look.”

The interior appears to have been plucked directly from a rustic Tuscan villa — burnished wooden beams criss-crossing the curved ceilings and terracotta tiles underfoot. You breathe in deeply, savoring the mouthwatering aromas of garlic, tomato sauce, and fresh bread wafting from the open kitchen.

An older man with a thick mustache and crisp white apron greets Charles immediately in fluent Italian, ushering you both back to a cozy alcove table secluded in the very rear. He pours you both generous glasses of deep red wine before disappearing again with a conspiratorial wink in your direction.

“So, how was your race?” You ask between sips once you and Charles are alone, genuinely curious about the difficult career he’s managed to carve out.

He shrugs one broad shoulder almost dismissively. “Decent enough, I suppose. Grabbed another podium finish, but didn’t quite have the pace for the win.” There’s no disappointment or frustration in his tone as he speaks, just a simple statement of fact.

“I’m endlessly in awe that you treat accomplishments like that so casually,” you admit with a shake of your head. “Finishing in the top three in Formula 1 seems like the kind of thing most people would be over the moon about.”

Charles lets out a low chuckle at that, leaning towards you over the small table with eyes twinkling mischievously. “Well maybe I need to find a new way to impress someone like you then.”

You open your mouth to respond with a playful retort of your own, but Charles’ gaze has already strayed to somewhere past your shoulder.

“Ah, perfect timing then. Here’s Giovanni himself with our orders.”

Sure enough, the older man you spotted earlier bustles up with a tray overflowing with piping hot plates of food. He doles out the dishes methodically while rattling off a stream of explanations about preparations and ingredients that have clearly been passed down for many generations.

Everything looks and smells utterly divine — from the heaping bowl of glistening spaghetti blanketed in a simmering tomato sauce to the golden-baked chicken drenched in rosemary and olive oil. The endlessly affable Giovanni even sets down a small ceramic dish full of creamy pale cheese, patting Charles on the shoulder.

“The burrata for you and your lady friend. Freshly made this morning by my wife,” he declares proudly before whisking himself away again.

For the next blissful hour or two, you and Charles completely lose yourselves in this veritable feast for the senses. You savor each and every decadent bite — moaning around the pillowy strands of spaghetti and tearing off chunks of the crusty, herb-brushed breads to soak up the savory juices.

Charles, for his part, dives into the meal with just as much enthusiasm, occasionally reaching over to snag a bite off of your plate until you resort to smacking his wandering fork away between fits of laughter.

Stuffed and utterly content, you both eventually push away your long-cleared dishes to nurse the final sips of your wine as the evening stretches languorously on. You fall into these simple moments like an old habit by now — trading comfortable silences and contented looks between impassioned recounts of childhood anecdotes or musings about life.

Finally, as the candles on the small wooden tables begin to gutter and wane, Charles summons over your waiter to settle the check with a few murmured words and one of those knee-weakening smiles. Rising smoothly, he extends his hand in a wordless invitation for you to join him back out into the balmy evening.

This time, instead of heading for the car, Charles tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow before choosing a new direction — down a maze of narrow streets until you finally emerge along the harbor’s edge. Strings of twinkling lights reflect off the lapping waves while the soft strains of background music filter out from somewhere nearby.

“Feel like grabbing a little dessert to walk off that incredible meal?” Charles asks in a low murmur, bumping your shoulder conspiratorially.

You shoot him an incredulous look even as you nod. “You mean in addition to the literal feast we both just had?”

Charles tugs you closer to his side until your hips graze together as you match strides. “There’s always room for gelato,” he counters with an arched brow. “Besides, when in Monaco ...”

Any further protests die on your lips as Charles guides you around another tight corner to reveal that familiar cheerful gelato shop from your initial meeting. The old woman behind the counter greets you both like regulars already, no doubt thanks to Charles’ frequent patronage.

You maneuver through the small line until it’s your turn to order. “I think I’ll go with the tiramisu flavor this time,” you decide, mouth already watering at the prospect of that rich coffee and creamy goodness. “What about you? Mixing it up or still sticking with the basics?”

Charles shakes his head resolutely as he hands over a few crisp bills to pay for your treats. “Trust me, a heaping helping of simple vanilla is just as gratifying as all those overly complicated flavor combinations.”

You balk at his slander, bumping his shoulder with your own without any real heat. “How dare you insult my incredible palette like that?” You glare at him in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I have some of the most refined gelato taste in all of Monaco now.”

“Oh yeah?” Charles tips his chin down with a challenging smirk twisting his full lips. “Well what if I told you that vanilla is scientifically proven to be the most popular and beloved flavor in existence?”

“By who? Basic boring people?” You volley back mercilessly, eagerly leaning into the playful banter now. “If anything, those findings just demonstrated how sadly uncreative society at large is.”

Charles barks out a booming laugh as he grabs your hand and tugs you back out of the shop, gelato in the other. “You heathen! We’re clearly going to need to educate you on the finer points of flavor appreciation.”

Your eyes narrow dangerously even as you let yourself be lead to a nearby bench overlooking the gently lapping waves. “Oh, you’re on, Leclerc. Let’s see if your vanilla snobbery holds up after a taste of tiramisu heaven.”

You scoop up an exaggeratedly generous spoonful of the divinely rich, creamy gelato and make a show of savoring it with overstated moans of delight. “Oh my god, this is so good. Here, you have to try this! It’s life-changing.”

Charles wrinkles his nose even as you wave the spoonful enticingly in front of him. “Nice try but I would never cheat on vanilla!”

The two of you devolve into helpless laughter at that point, dissolving into breathless giggles over the ridiculous debate getting more outrageous by the minute. Finally, you relent in the battle, settling back into the cool metal of the bench and turning your face up to the inky sea of stars glittering overhead.

“You’re right though — sometimes simple really is best,” you admit finally in a softer tone, slowly licking another sweet bite off your spoon.

Charles hums in agreement next to you, shuffling closer until your arms brush together with body heat and contact. “The classics never go out of style.”

The next comfortable silence stretches out between you as you take your time savoring your treats while simultaneously drinking in the breathtaking view laid out before you. The water laps almost hypnotically at the shoreline, twinkling reflection of docked yachts bobbing gently on the calm surface.

A breeze skates across your bare arms, raising a faint ripple of goosebumps along your skin. Charles notices immediately, shifting even nearer until he can shrug out of the lightweight jacket he had been wearing.

Without a word, he swings the soft fabric around your shoulders, tucking it securely around your front. You burrow instinctively into the material, the lingering body heat and remnants of his cologne wrapping you up in an cocoon of soothing warmth and intoxicating comfort.

With your free hand, you toy idly with the collar until Charles’ arm comes up to curl around your shoulders, effectively enveloping you into his solid frame. You let your cheek tip onto the firm muscle of his arm as Charles squeezes you closer with a contented exhale.

Time becomes meaningless suspended in that perfect sea-side bubble, waves flowing rhythmically while you enjoy every last savored bite of your melting treats. You let the quiet inevitability of dropping your head onto Charles’ shoulder wash over you, his familiar cologne invading your senses until your entire world narrows to just him.

When Charles polishes off the final bite of his cone and you go to shift away, another cool gust skitters across the harbor. He tightens the arm curved around you, making no move to let you up or leave the cozy haven you’ve made.

“I could get used to evenings like this, you know,” he murmurs eventually, lips brushing the top of your head. “Just taking it slow and savoring each other’s company without a single worry or care beyond where to find the best gelato.”

You hum in sleepy agreement, luxuriating in the casual intimacy of having Charles wrapped so protectively around you. Part of you can scarcely believe how instantaneous and natural this connection has blossomed between you already. But another part feels like you’ve finally found your soul’s missing piece slotting seamlessly into place after stumbling around lost and incomplete for so long without ever realizing it.

The two of you remain suspended in that perfect, tranquil bubble for what could be minutes or hours more. You’ve completely lost track of any sense of time beyond the lullaby of the gentle waves and occasional murmur of Charles’ breathing ruffling your hair.

Eventually though, his stirring signals a slow return to the real world as Charles regretfully extricates himself from your entwined position with clear reluctance.

“I should probably get you back before your roommate starts to worry,” he says remorsefully as he slides off the bench to offer you a steadying hand up.

You accept it without hesitation, but can’t resist clinging to his jacket still cocooned around your shoulders, unwilling to shrug off that lingering cocoon of comfort and safety just yet. Charles notices, allowing a tiny grin to quirk one side of his mouth upwards as he takes in your refusal to part with it.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs with unmistakable heat in those hypnotizing eyes. “I may have to let you hang on to that one for a while.”

Your mouth goes abruptly dry at the blatant implications in his tone, but you manage a coy smile in return as you turn to make your way back towards wherever Charles has his car crookedly parked.

The streets are all but abandoned by the time you arrive at the discreet entrance of your apartment building. Charles hesitates a split second before rounding the front of the gleaming Ferrari to face you properly on the quiet sidewalk.

“Thank you for an incredible evening,” you say honestly, gazing up at his silhouette in the dim glow of the streetlamps. “I don’t think I can even put into words how special you’ve managed to make me feel these past couple weeks.”

His expression softens instantly. One calloused palm comes up to tenderly cup your jaw, tilting your face up towards his with feather-light reverence.

“The pleasure has been all mine, I assure you,” Charles rumbles in a low tone that steals your breath away. “I don’t think you’ll ever realize just how remarkable you are, ma belle.”

Your eyes flutter shut without conscious thought as his nose brushes yours. Charles’ lips glide torturously against your cheek leaving a blazing trail to the very corner of your mouth.

The softest, most infinitely gentle press of satin flesh on flesh and then he’s pulling back — his ragged exhale warm and intoxicating against your tingling lips. You chase his retreat on instinct, but Charles is already withdrawing further with clear reluctance.

“I’m afraid I don’t trust myself to take things slow quite yet if I stay,” he murmurs in a strained rasp, pupils blown wide and dark. “But I do hope you’ll allow me to make this our new gelato tradition from now on ...”

It takes you several faltering attempts to find your voice again, chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of that lightning bolt of affection. Finally, you manage a jerky nod, sliding one trembling hand over his where it still cups your cheek.

“I want that more than anything,” you confess in a hushed tone. “Just ... promise me we’ll see each other soon.”

He releases a shuddering breath of unbridled relief, dipping his forehead to rest against yours. “Soon,” Charles vows lowly. “I promise.”

You stare up into his earnest eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Charles’ lips quirk in that lopsided grin you already adore so much. “I’m counting on it.”

With obvious reluctance, he finally steps away, snagging your hand to press one last searing kiss to your knuckles that has your heart stuttering all over again. Charles holds your gaze as you carefully back away towards the entrance, unwilling or unable to fully turn your back until the very last moment.

You chance a glance over your shoulder as you reach the front doors. Charles is still there, unmoving in a pool of streetlight beside his idling Ferrari, hands shoved in his pockets as he tracks your every step until you’ve slipped safely inside.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, you lean back against the cool stone wall, fingers coming up to ghost across your still-tingling lips almost disbelievingly.

When you finally muster the courage to peek through the glass once more, Charles has moved to lean against the side of his car, head tilted back as he stares into the lobby with an unmistakable softness etched across those chiseled features.

You can’t resist pressing your palm to the pane in a gesture you know he’ll recognize. Sure enough, Charles’ intense gaze instantly snaps to lock on you from across the quiet street, expression melting into pure adoration and wonder. His lips shape the same promise he uttered just moments ago — soon — as your own quirk in a delighted smile.

One last impulsive spark of inspiration has you playfully blowing him a single kiss through the barrier between you. Charles catches the invisible token easily, hand flying up to press over that broad chest as he throws back his head with a laugh that you can’t hear but imagine with vivid clarity.

You stand there transfixed, drinking in every last detail of him — the effortless elegance he carries himself with, the striking planes of his handsome face, and those beautiful eyes glittering with a thousand unspoken promises under the streetlamps.

Finally, with your own vow to reunite pulsing between you, Charles slides behind the wheel of his car. The powerful engine roars to life, twin beams from the headlights sweeping up to briefly wash through the windows of the lobby in a silent farewell before he’s peeling away into the night back towards the glittering city center.

You remain at the entrance for several long minutes basking in the memory of Charles’ phantom embrace still clinging to your skin. Only once his Ferrari has faded into the distance do you finally turn towards the elevator up to your apartment — every footstep lighter than air in the wake of an evening that lived up to even your wildest dreams of romantic splendor.

The simple joy and humble pleasure of a perfect scoop of creamy gelato will always hold untold meaning now as the spark marking the start of something beautiful blossoming between you and Charles.

And, as you finally drift off that night with a permanent smile etched across your face, you know without a shadow of a doubt that no flavor in the world could ever compare to the sweet indulgence of a life together just waiting to be savored and explored.

***

The warm spring breeze carries the sweet floral scents of the Brera Botanical Garden through the air as you stroll hand-in-hand with Charles. His fingers are laced through yours, his thumb gently stroking over your knuckles. You can’t help stealing glances at his handsome profile — the defined jawline, those soft kiss-curled lips, those kind green eyes that always seem to be smiling even when the rest of his face isn’t.

“What are you looking at?” Charles says with an amused grin, catching you staring again. You just shake your head and squeeze his hand tighter.

“Nothing. Just admiring the view,” you tease. Charles laughs that bright, infectious laugh of his that never fails to make your heart flutter.

You come to a stop beneath a blossoming cherry tree, pale pink petals floating down around you. Charles turns to face you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Y/N … there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he begins, suddenly uncharacteristically nervous. You tilt your head curiously. “You know how passionate I am about racing, about Formula 1. It’s been my dream since I was a little boy.”

“Of course,” you nod, unable to stop a small smile. Charles’ love for motorsports is one of the many things you have come to adore about him.

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately,” Charles continues, taking both your hands in his. “And I’ve realized that I want to have something else in my life too. A … passion project, you could say. Something that’s away from all the spotlight and pressure.”

Your brow furrows slightly as you try to imagine what he could mean. Charles has spoken before about potentially getting more involved in charity work or environmentalism on top of his racing career. But the almost childlike excitement dancing in his eyes tells you this is something different.

“I’m going to open a gelato shop,” he blurts out finally. You blink dumbly.

“A … gelato shop?” You repeat slowly. Out of all the possibilities, that was definitely not what you were expecting.

“Yes!” Charles grins broadly, clearly delighted by your surprise. “Think about it,Y/N. What’s more perfect than gelato made right here in the heart of Milano? And I’ve already found the ideal location — a little shop just across the street from here. Can’t you just picture it?”

He starts gesturing animatedly, that bright smile never leaving his face as he outlines his grand vision. You can’t help getting caught up in his infectious enthusiasm, even if the idea still seems a bit random.

“I’m going to call it Lec,” Charles says with a proud smile. You let out an undignified snort of laughter.

“Lec? Like your last name?” You shake your head in amusement. He looks almost offended by your reaction.

“No, no, not just my last name,” he corrects you seriously. “Lec as in … our last name. Yours and mine.”

The words hang in the air as realization slowly starts to dawn on you. You open and close your mouth dumbly as Charles takes a deep breath, sliding off the path onto one knee on the ground before you. With shaking hands, he pulls out a small black box from his pocket and flips it open to reveal the most stunning diamond ring you’ve ever seen.

“Y/N Y/L/N … you are my world, my everything,” Charles’ voice is thick with emotion as he gazes up at you. “I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else by my side. I want to wake up every morning and go to sleep every night with you beside me forever.”

Tears are already welling in your eyes, one hand pressed to your trembling lips as you listen to the beautiful words.

“Will you ...” Charles’ voice catches in his throat and he has to clear it before continuing. “Will you do me the greatest honor and become my wife? Will you marry me?”

The last few words come out in a rush of breath. You’re vaguely aware of several other people in the gardens who’ve stopped to watch, but all you can see is Charles’ face — hopeful and vulnerable and so full of pure adoration for you.

“Yes!” You finally manage to choke out through your joyful tears. “Oh my god, yes! Yes of course I’ll marry you!”

Pure relief and blissful ecstasy bursts across Charles’ face at your answer. With hands trembling just as badly as yours, he eases the glittering ring out of the box and onto your finger where it nestles perfectly, the diamond catching the dappled sunlight.

Before you can even look at it properly, Charles is on his feet again, pulling you into his embrace and spinning you around in a deliriously happy circle. You cling to him, laughing and crying at the same time as he peppers every inch of your face with kisses — your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose.

Finally, inevitably, his mouth finds yours in a long, deep, loving kiss that has your knees feeling weak. You get lost in the warmth of his arms around you, the gentleness of his hands cradling your face, the tenderness of his soft lips moving reverently against yours.

When you finally part, you’re both smiling so much it almost hurts, foreheads pressed together as you share the same breath. Charles brushes away a few stray tears on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“I love you so much, mon cœur,” he murmurs softly. You mouth the words back to him before stealing another lingering kiss.

Hand-in-hand once more, Charles leads you out of the botanical gardens and across the street. You come to a stop in front of a quaint yet sizable storefront, the windows covered in brown paper and a faded For Lease sign still hanging crookedly in the door.

“Here it is,” Charles says, gesturing up at the building with undisguised pride. “What do you think?”

You take it in slowly, trying to envision what the space might look like once renovated and filled with cozy seating and the alluring scents of freshly-made gelato.

You picture the two of you working side-by-side behind the counter when Charles doesn’t have a race, laughing and bantering as you serve up delicious treats for smiling customers.

It’s such an endearingly normal, domestic dream compared to the fast-paced frenzy of the Formula 1 lifestyle. But standing here with your new fiancé, it feels absolutely perfect.

“I think … I think it’s going to be incredible,” you lean into Charles’ side and wrap your arms around his trim waist. He responds by kissing your temple and pulling you closer.

“Just think,” he says happily, his warm breath ruffling your hair. “We’ll be the owners of the best little gelateria in all of Milano.

“Sounds like heaven,” you smile. “Just be sure to make plenty of hazelnut and tiramisu for me.”

“Done and done,” he promises solemnly. “Though you know vanilla will always be number one in my book.”

“Oh really?” You arch an eyebrow challengingly. “Is that so?”

Without warning, you loop your arms around Charles’ neck and pull him in for a long, lingering kiss. You can feel him melting into your embrace, his arms snaking securely around your waist.

When you finally manage to pull apart again, you’re both slightly flushed and out of breath. Charles’ usually perfectly tousled hair is charmingly mussed from running your fingers through it. He looks at you with such naked affection and desire that your heart flutters.

“You know what?” He murmurs huskily, resting his forehead against yours. “I take it back. You’re definitely my favorite flavor. And I can’t wait to start this next chapter with you, mon amour.”

And with that promise lingering sweetly between you, Charles takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply once more, pouring every ounce of his devotion into the embrace.

You can taste forever on his lips.

When you finally part, grinning giddily at each other, Charles takes your hand and leads you back towards your next adventure. Whatever lies ahead, you know you’ll take it on fearlessly and joyously, side-by-side with the man you love more than anything in this world.

***

The reception hall is a whirlwind of joy and celebration as you take in the scene, your heart overflowing with love and happiness. The elegant decorations, the twinkling lights, and the smiling faces of your loved ones surrounding you all blur together in a beautiful haze.

You can scarcely believe this day has finally arrived — the day you’ve dreamed of for so long.

You turn to Charles, his warm green eyes sparkling with so much love, and your breath catches in your throat. He looks devastatingly handsome in his perfectly tailored tuxedo, his million-watt smile making your knees go weak.

This incredible man is now your husband.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, taking your hand and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “Having fun, mon amour?”

A joyful laugh escapes your lips as you nod enthusiastically. “More than I ever thought possible. I’m just … I’m so happy, Charles. I can’t believe we’re actually married!”

He chuckles, that rich laugh that never fails to make you melt. “Believe it, Mrs. Leclerc. You’re stuck with me forever now.” His expression softens as he cups your cheek tenderly. “I love you so much. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

You lean into his touch, savoring the moment. “I love you too, Mr. Leclerc. More than anything.”

A throat clears behind you, and you whirl around to see Arthur, your new brother-in-law, grinning mischievously.

“If you two lovebirds are done making everyone else nauseous, it’s time to cut the cake!” He teases, jerking his head towards the lavish gelato cake that sits on the dessert table.

Charles throws his head back with a laugh. “You’re just jealous that you don’t have someone as amazing as my wife to make gooey eyes at.”

Arthur rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Whatever. Get your butts over there before I eat the whole thing myself.”

With a wink at you, Charles takes your hand and leads you towards the dessert table, the crowd of guests parting like the Red Sea to let you through. Your heart does a little flip as the magnificent gelato cake comes into view — a towering masterpiece of creamy gelato in vanilla, hazelnut, and tiramisu, all artfully swirled together and decorated with fresh fruit and chocolate shavings.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper in awe, giving Charles’ hand a squeeze.

He pulls you into his side with a content smile. “Not as perfect as you.”

The crowd applauds as you approach the cake, and a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles rises up. Straightening your shoulders with a grin, you pick up the gleaming cake knife and lock eyes with Charles, suddenly feeling bold.

“Ready to do this, husband?” You ask with a teasing lilt.

His eyes blaze with undisguised desire. “More than ready, wife.”

Together, you slice into the towering gelato cake, the creamy filling oozing out and already making your mouth water. Once you have a generous slice on a plate, you scoop up a spoonful and lock eyes with Charles again, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

His pupils dilate as he catches your meaning, a low growl rumbling in his throat. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, mon cœur.”

“Who says I can’t finish it?” You take a step closer, holding the spoonful of gelato up temptingly.

Charles tips his head back with a groan. “You’re killing me here.”

“Good thing you have me to bring you back to life then,” you quip, pressing the spoon to his lips.

He opens obediently, letting you slide the gelato into his mouth with agonizing slowness. His eyelids flutter shut as the flavors explode over his tongue, and he actually moans — deep and guttural and utterly sinful.

A choked sound comes from somewhere in the crowd. “Oh please, get a room!” Joris, Charles’ best friend and best man, calls out with a mixture of amusement and mortification.

Charles doesn’t even open his eyes, simply raising one middle finger in Joris’ direction as he savors the last of the gelato. When his tongue finally darts out to catch a stray bit on his lips, you feel an unexpected flare of heat low in your belly.

Okay, two can play at this game.

Deliberately holding Charles’ heated gaze, you dip your finger into the gelato drippings on the plate and slowly, so slowly, bring it up to your lips. You let the very tip of your tongue dart out to catch the sticky sweetness, swirling it around luxuriously. His Adam’s apple bobs as he watches you, jaw tense.

That’s it.

You slip your finger into your mouth fully, hollowing out your cheeks as you suck the gelato off with an utterly obscene sound. Charles’ knees actually buckle, and he grips the table behind him for support, pupils blown wide.

“You are so dead,” he growls under his breath, low and dangerous.

Unable to stop yourself, you let out a breathy giggle, drunk with a dizzying cocktail of desire and sheer bliss. Charles takes a half step closer, his eyes burning into yours. You quickly scoop up another fingerful of gelato, desperate to keep pushing those buttons and draw out that delicious intensity.

But before you can bring it to your lips, quick as a flash, Charles is on you. He drags you flush against his solid form, his free hand cupping the back of your neck to angle your mouth up to his. The scorching kiss steals the breath from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to his lapels for purchase.

When he finally breaks away, his eyes are blazing with unconcealed want.

“You missed a spot,” he rasps.

Then he’s ducking his head, and with one torturously slow lick, he clears the stray bit of gelato from the tip of your nose. The heat of his tongue on your overly sensitive skin makes you whimper.

The catcalls and whistles from your guests fade into white noise as you melt against your husband, lost in the endless depths of his hungry gaze. Screw being appropriate — you’ll give them all a show to remember if you have to.

“Fuck, I love you,” Charles rumbles, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire.

Before you can respond, he’s kissing you again — deep and thorough and all-consuming. You sigh into his mouth, bunching the fine material of his tuxedo jacket in your fists to pull him even closer. His hand slides from your neck into your hair, cradling your head reverently as he pours every ounce of his love and passion into the kiss.

An eternity later, he breaks away with a ragged breath, resting his forehead against yours. “I think it’s time to get out of here, don’t you?”

You can only nod breathlessly, already imagining the deliciously wicked things he has in store. As if in a trance, you allow him to take your hand and lead you towards the exit, shouting and wolf whistles following in your wake.

Just before you slip out of the hall, you hear Pierre Gasly’s teasing voice behind you.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, you two!”

Charles pauses only long enough to call over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“But there’s nothing you wouldn’t do!”

Then he’s sweeping you into his arms with a playful growl, carrying you into your new life together as man and wife. Peals of laughter and cheers chase you down the hall, but you only have eyes for each other in this perfect moment.

You’re married to the love of your life. You have forever with this incredible man. And if the wedding is anything to go by, forever is going to be deliciously amazing.

Literally.

[mydrink-n-my2step]

Hacking To Your Heart-Yandere Hacker x Chubby insecure reader

You stumble upon an ad for a malware app, unbeknownst to you, it's an invitation to potential stalking.

Author's Note//: AHH Mira's back again! I hope this story is okay for y'all. Let me know what I can do better. BTW: Best Buy is an electronics store where you can also get your technology items fixed by the workers (Geek Squad)

TW//: Fluff, attempted angst, mild smut, masturbation, misuse of work uniform, stalking, internet hacking, Revenge, spoiler: excrement(NOT KINKY, revenge use), y/n is afab, y/n is also pretty desperate. Okay, I hope y'all enjoy this.

DISCLAIMER: I don't condone these behaviors. Please do not act out these actions that my characters commit. PLEASE DO NOT!!!!

6.5k words

Yandere Hacker x Chubby Insecure reader

Five months. It has been five months since he saw you. In January, at his job at Best Buy, you asked for one of the Geek Squad members to help fix your computer screen, which unfortunately had the infamous blue screen of death. You wanted to cry when others before him couldn’t solve your tumultuous problem. They were incapable, teenagers who wanted to make money, so they lied on their resumes that they were experienced in tech. However, Yandere Hacker was more experienced in his field and life. 

You were so thankful once you saw your normal laptop’s wallpaper. It's the dull background you contemplated a week before the change that put a toothy grin from ear to ear. Something in the back of your mind told you to kiss him, but you shut that down immediately. 

Aloysius felt proud of himself, seeing your smile. How your chubby cheeks moved and your eyes creased. It wasn't just the fact that he solved a customer’s problem, but seeing the look on your face, that was the kicker. He loved it when customers expressed their gratification, yet this was different. He was figuratively eating up your joy. Licking the plate and all. “How much is it?” You asked, though he didn’t respond; he was too busy lapping at you. You waved at his face so he could snap out of his daze. “I-I only pressed a few buttons. D-don’t worry, ma’am, it’s on the house.” He was going to miss seeing you in his workplace. Even after his shift, on his way to McDonald’s for dinner, in the shower, and in his bed, he still remembered you. There was Something about you that brightened his day and many more days, weeks, and months to come. 

February came, and despite it being great that he didn’t see you, because you didn’t have any electronic problems, he was still melancholic about that reason. At least come around to buy some snacks or walk around the computer section. He’s aware about your computer being faulty, dammit he only pressed a few buttons and factory reset your old ass electronic. When did you get that computer anyways? In 2015???? Anyways.

February 14th came around. It was typically a day that Aloysius avoided or simply didn’t care about. Until you showed up. He was wiping down the cash register and locking up when the doors slid open. There you were, dressed in a shiny sheer black dress with a pink hibiscus starting from your lower abdomen to your knees. You had on these black Mary Jane flats that had a black bow on them. Your hair was flat-ironed and bumped at the ends, the rest was up in a bun. You were going on a date. But first, you had to drop a gift off.

“Good evening, how may I help you today? Oh, it’s you!” He says, unfortunately, cringing at his response. 

“Um, hi, I wanted to stop by and gift you something.” You opened your bag to pull out a tiny box of chocolates. You had ordered them from a Swedish chocolatier in town. It was a luxurious selection. Almond chocolate, Hazelnut, A strawberry coated in dark chocolate, toffee-covered chocolate. A chocolate orange peel and a bonbon. Luckily, Aloysius wasn’t allergic to nuts. He opened the box, despite knowing his boss would scold him. Fuck it, I’m the manager. “This is for me? Thank you so much, ma’am.” He said, popping the hazelnut one into his mouth. Though he was severely lactose intolerant, his shift was only 30 minutes left. 

“No, I wanted to thank you,” You read his nametag, “Aloysius, nice name. I wanted to thank you for what you did a few weeks ago. That was actually my work computer. I was going to return it the day before, but you saved me, so I bought you a gift. I hope you liked it. I don’t know what you like, so I got some of the popular flavors.” 

“Again, thank you so much! What’s your name, if you don’t mind? I would like to see you again, outside of this store, of course.” 

“It’s Y/n, and here’s my Instagram.” You gave him your Instagram account. He does have an account, though he doesn’t bother to use it at times. But this time, he might bother checking you out. At home, he typed your account in, seeing it pop up in the search, he pressed it. Y/n L/n, a fellow tech nerd and your zodiac sign emoji. That was it, but you had a plethora of photos. Your post count was 580. Was he going to scroll through all your posts all night, maybe, did he care that he was going to stay up all night stalking your Instagram account? Hell no. 

Later that night, he was already at post 301 when he saw that you had finally followed him. And also posted a story. Oooh, a story, maybe she’s talking about me?

In your story, you had posted a picture of an original meme that was captioned, When a series of dates went horribly wrong, so you wrote you your diary about how the world doesn’t want you to meet the one. A little dramatic, but okay. 

Poor Y/n, he thought, immediately going to your DM’s to text you. 

@alo.wtf: Hey Y/n, how are you?

@your_insta_acount: Nothing

@alo.wtf: Are you sure? Your story says otherwise.

@your_insta_acount: Ok, I went on a date, and they stood up on me

@alo.wtf: Oh, I’m sorry

Don’t worry about that person! They don’t deserve you!

@your_insta_acount: tysm Aloysius, but I just can’t help but think I’m the problem. 

Maybe it’s because I’m not pretty enough. 

@alo.wtf: What? You’re so beautiful, Y/n! It’s pretty clear the guys that try to knock you down are pricks! 

You’re gorgeous.

Maybe I went a little overboard with that text. He thought, unsending the text message right away. Unbeknownst to him, she already saw it. 

@your_insta_acount: U rlly think that? 

@alo.wtf: ofc

—-—-

Fast forward to now, you are searching online for a way to watch your favorite show without the costly fees. You weren’t in the mood to pay for any streaming services. To you, they were your enemy, sucking away your paycheck just to give you the bare minimum, like a deadbeat boyfriend. You clicked on a website that had plenty of pop-up ads that you couldn’t remove, or else they would lead you to another website. Some of them fake porn webcams. This scenario bothered the hell out of you, so you decided to watch your favorite YouTuber. Of course, you waited for the ads to end. All five million of them. But one had caught your eye. It was a computer malware protection ad that was a minute long. It showed an older woman who was talking about her computer being plagued with viruses. So her son recommended an app that she could use. The advertisement previewed the app before telling you to download it. 

Something in you didn’t want to download the app, but you felt the need to. So you went to grab your phone, and went to the App Store to search for the app. When you found the app, it had few to no reviews and zero downloads. It must’ve been a new app. But the description was pretty convincing. So you downloaded it. At first, it asks for your name, then your email address, and your pronouns. Weird, but you allowed it. It did ask for your Social Security number, but you decided not to put that in. At first, it was a requirement to put your SSN in, but the screen had glitched when you weren’t looking, changing it to “Optional”. So you skipped that part and were finally in the app. You were in. In the system. 

On day one of using the app, you noticed that the camera light was blinking red. It was night, you were busy…doing something important. Long story short, you were touching yourself. The lights were dim, and you had just turned your Hitachi wand on to the highest level. It was a night of disappointment and pleasure. Another failed date led you to this. Your fingers caress your nipples, you grind against the wand’s head. Muffled breaths leaving your mouth as you grind on your bed. The video you were watching was of another person pleasuring themselves while their partner watches from the side. The freak you were. 

Nights like these, you wished it was another person stimulating your poor pussy. Maybe that cute guy at your nearest Best Buy, what was his name again?

“Ah…ahh, ugh, Aloy…Aloyy~” You moaned as you came undone in your panties. Grinding against the Hitachi one last time to ride out your high. Dropping your phone on your bed, your hand lies gracefully against your hot pillow. Unbeknownst to you, another person was watching you the whole time.

 Aloysius was his name, and stalking was his game. 

Meanwhile, Aloysius was sitting by his gaming setup, in the dark, watching your face as it contorted to an orgasmic face. Your mouth was moaning his name unintentionally, from thinking about him. Aloysius and his blue uniform shirt, his charismatic demeanor, and his shiny, dark, wavy hair that went past his shoulders. 

He wondered what else you could be thinking of. Accidentally gave himself an erection. He rubbed himself through his pants, your constant breathing arousing him more. His work pants were about to be stained with his precum. He remembered when you showed up in that tight dress. The tropical dress that insinuated your curves and showed your pudge. The way your breast filled up the top. Your hair and the way you smell. That cutesy brown sugar smell you had that nearly had him hard at his job. Your voice and that box of chocolate. You must want him and he knows it good and damn well!

Aloysius’ fingers unbuttoned his pants hurriedly. He was too impatient to unzip his pants, so he shoved his hands into his pants. Gradually jerking himself off. Rubbing his head while he was leaking precum still. His index finger pad was going slowly, so he could enjoy the pleasure. Since you put your phone away, he closed his eyes, picturing you in that dress again. You and your pretty smile and cheeks. He imagined provocative things about you, too. You are doing unbelievable things to his imagination.

Soon, he would ejaculate in his pants. Grunting while saying your name out loud. Sure, his neighbors would’ve said something, IF he had neighbors. He lived pretty far from his job. His house is tucked away from society, in 15 acres of woods. It was not much to be considered living in a rural area, but he enjoyed believing that. 

Once he was done, he opened his eyes, looking down at his mess, then flicked his eyes at your screen. You were deleting the video from your phone. Your eyes are squinting at your screen. He chuckled at you, grabbing a tissue to wipe away his ivory mess off his pants. He was going to enjoy this so-called malware app of his.

__________________

It was the month of May. You were taking a hiatus from dating apps for a short period to focus on yourself and work. And so far, it has been a bummer. 

You were gaining weight from stress eating. The girls in your recent work meeting were making backhanded compliments on your project. No one in the Zoom meeting was confident or cared enough to say something. You felt zeroed out. Being one of the only plus-size members of your team of game designers. The staff often behaved like piranhas with their crude comments. 

Some days, you would binge on fast food; other days, you would starve yourself. It was unfortunate for you and Aloysius. He knew something was up when he caught on with you skipping some meals and only going out to walk for hours. It felt like torture to him, seeing his baby harm herself to please others. If she were with him, he would protect her from those types of people. Sure, he was not the brawny type, but with his technological arts, he was capable of hacking into people’s technology. Playing mind games and even taking their information and selling it online. 

Aloysius took this opportunity to DM you on Instagram. He waited for several minutes for you to open your phone and see his message. 

@alo.wtf: Hey Y/n  :{

….

You never opened your phone. You were busy crying in your bed. And he was able to hear. Oh, if only he were there to console you in his arms. Go through your recent work messages and harass the people who were picking on you. Wait, that’s exactly what he will do! Opening your Messenger app, he went through your chat log. Pressing on a person’s name. He figured out through previous messages was the person who was harassing you the most. This girl is named Amanda. Saying backhanded stuff about you and your project. Prepare for what tomorrow brings her. 

@your_insta_acount: Hey Aloy

_______

You showed up at work, seeing people crowding someone’s cubicle. Amanda’s. When you walked by, you stopped, seeing her items covered in shit. Yes, human waste. You wanted to laugh, but if you did, your coworkers would suspect you of being the culprit. So you walked by your only friend, Jeffrey. 

“What the hell happened?” You whispered. 

“We don’t know, but Amanda saw this and screamed. She went to the boss’s office to report it.” He responds. 

Would it be wrong to assume that Aloysius had defecated on the girl’s desk? Yes, but it’s a possibility. Maybe he did it, maybe he had asked another person to do it for $400. Who knows. 

Work was canceled that day so that the janitors could clean her desk, and Amanda was forced to resign. No one could track down the perpetrator, so they assumed that since she hated the job and the majority of her colleagues, she did this herself. She couldn’t defend herself, so she took her leave and packed the next day.

As you were starting your car, you noticed that your phone charger was chewed on. What the hell? Today was crazy as hell, and it’s only 9 AM. But this allowed you to visit Aloysius at Best Buy. While you drove there, you checked to see the time Best Buy opened. You were going to wait an hour for the store to open. 

As you parked in the parking lot, you noticed someone with a low black ponytail walk up to the store. Aloysius had a keychain of keys in his hands, whistling a tune while he was entering the store. You exit the car, running up to him.

“Aloysius!” You called, reaching him as he turned around. Once he noticed you, his eyes brightened. Almost as if they twinkled. He went in to hug you. The hinted of Dove bodywash permeated your nostrils. It smelled similar to your favorite body wash. Pomegranate. It was the same as your body wash at home. 

“Y/n, how are you doing today? You look wonderful.”

“Oh it was a lot of shit. Can I come in? I need to buy something.” 

“Normally, I don’t allow customers in while the store is still closed, but y’know what, fuck it.” 

______________

Aloysius starts his cash register while you search for a phone charger. You end up finding one, heading to the front to pay for it. He couldn’t stop himself from cheesing. Grinning from ear to ear as you looked so good in your work clothes. Your job doesn’t require you to wear a uniform, however, you like to go above and beyond to look your best at your job, mainly so people won’t pick at you. Aloysius couldn’t stop staring at your chest, how your bosom jiggled while you moved, while you breathed. Again, he was taking you in; your scent, clothes, and face and eyes. When they travel from your wallet to him. He grips the counter, stifling himself from doing something he might regret.

“O-ok…the total will be $11.99.” He says as sweat trickles from his forehead. Suddenly, the store grew hot. You pay for the charger, stowing your credit card into your wallet. “Hey, are you doing ok, Aloy? You’re sweating a lot.” 

“I-um, excuse me for a moment.” Aloysius leaves for the employee lounge. He felt his skin turn hot from you. You waited for him to return so you could talk to him some more. You waited seven minutes. He had assumed that you would’ve left around minute five, but you stayed. It shocked him when he turned and saw your face. 

You were on your phone, which was glitching and still flashing a red light on the camera light. “Hey Aloysius, what does it mean if my phone is flashing a red light? This is a constant thing that won’t stop at all, even if I turn my phone off.”

“Let me see?” He asked, knowing that he might get caught in this situation if he “figures out” what is wrong. You waited for his diagnosis with concern in your visage. Only to be conflicted when he told you nothing was wrong.

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah, I believe that it’s just your phone acting up. How long have you had it?” 

“For over a year now.”

“Yeah, that could be why,” he lied, “and it’s getting hot.” He said, placing the phone on the counter and shoving it back to you. He would never be able to have you for his if he admitted to tampering with your electronic device. Lying was wrong, and Aloysius was against lying to his loved ones, but he didn't want to lose you. 

“I suppose I should buy a new one.” You said, shoving it into your bag. “Well,” he started, “just because it glitches and the camera flashes doesn't mean you need a new one. I can fix it for you, i,f of course, you allow me to take you on a date?”

“A date? I guess that's the deal, here you go. Also, do you know where the restrooms are?” 

“In the back, where the office furniture is. You should see the alcove that has a sign that says ‘restroom’.” 

You leave with Aloysius left putting your password into your phone. The password he knew by a guess from your date of birth on X. Forgetting that you didn't tell him, you turned around, asking for your phone so you could put your PIN in. Aloysius convinced you that he could put it in himself, telling you to trust him that he’d forget it in a minute. He won’t.

While you're gone, Aloysius went exploring. He went through your photos and social media accounts. Analyzing your behavior on the phone. He was having a field day taking a ‘look’ through your phone. And he may have deleted the Hinge app from your phone. Whoopsie!

When you came back, you expected your phone to be fixed by your tech wizard of a friend, but unfortunately, it was the exact opposite. Aloysius wanted to feel bad, but he knew he wouldn't be able to see you anymore if he removed the tracking app from your phone.

Since you were off today, you offered to see him during lunch for a quick meal. He suggested that he could take a day off to hang out with you. You disagreed, telling him he should stay at work and not worry about you; however, he was firm with you, telling you that he had never taken a day off before, which was true. He was loyal to his side hustle, Best Buy. 

He decided to take you to his grandparents’ cafe, Agape. It was a little bungalow situated near your workplace, on the outskirts of your town. He wanted to introduce you to his maternal grandparents before he introduced you to the other family members who also work there. 

Entering the older cafe, you were greeted by a sweet, sticky smell, Baklava. His grandma and sister were whipping some up in her kitchen to sell this morning.

“Yia-yia, Papous? I’m here!” 

His grandpa, who was playing a game with his older cousins, poked his head between the dining room’s threshold. A wrinkly smile was etched on the elder’s face. He stood up from his chair, walking slowly to greet you.

“Hello there, you must be my grandson’s girlfriend? How are you doing?” 

“I’m doing great sir, I’m merely a friend.” You said, shaking his hand. 

“Ah, I see,” suddenly, he called for his missis. She was busy stowing her dessert into the stove when he called. She hurriedly ran out to see what the problem was. 

Agape, the grandfather, took his wife’s hand into his when she showed up. She was a tad bit younger than he was, her silver and black hair in a wavy style and bun. She wore her apron, which had little ducks on the bottom hem. 

“Hello there,” she greeted in her native tongue, “it’s a pleasure to meet you finally.”

“Finally, meet me? What do you mean, ma’am?” You ask, taking her hand into yours to greet her formally anyway. You glanced at Aloysius, who smiled at you while his arm snaked around your waist. “I’ve been told about a pretty lady who had gifted my grandson a box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day. He was so grateful!” She replied. Your face got warm from her response, and so did Aloysius’. He then cleared his throat, insinuating that he was going to take you to a table.

“Find a table, I’ll be right with you shortly.” She says as she leaves to gather some menus.

It had never occurred to you what type of man Aloysius was. But today showed you: While eating, you accidentally had some syrup on the corner of your lips. Aloysius, who was watching you, took his napkin, dampened it with his spit, and wiped your mouth clean. You noticed the crescents on his fingers. He must be working hard. Maybe one day you will give him a chance. A chance to show you the boyfriend he would be. Or maybe it’s all in your head, and he doesn’t feel that way; he’s only nice to me because I’m nice to him. You thought as the warm smile on your face was decimated as you took time to realize that fact. 

Aloysius noticed, asking what was wrong. You told him nothing, remnants of the smile appearing only for a brief moment. He wasn’t going to accept your response, cupping your cheek and scooting closer to you. “If there is something wrong, you can tell me, Y/n.” 

You sigh, “I just can’t shake this feeling that you’re only nice to me because I’m alone.”

“That’s not true at all. I’m nice because I’m a nice person, but I’m behaving this way because…well, because I like you.” He exclaims.

“You do? Oh great, now I feel like a fool for what I said.” 

“No, don’t feel that way. You’re perfectly fine.” You smiled at him, your cheeks flushed.

“Do you like me?” He asks, grinning at you, hoping his assumption would be true.

“I—I don’t know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just need a little more time to figure out what I'm really feeling—would that be okay?”

Aloysius paused, frozen in place as though your words had physically struck him. His fingers, which had been resting so delicately on your cheek, slowly retracted close to your purse. You felt the absence of his touch like a sudden drop in temperature. His eyes didn’t leave yours, but you noticed the subtle twitch in his right eye, a small betrayal of something turbulent beneath the surface.

He took a step back, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he were trying to smile and failing miserably. “Ah,” he said, voice tight, strained. “Right. Of course, uh, would you like another milfei? I’ll order it for you.”

—

Your trip to Aloysius’ family-owned cafe was, in your belief, felt like the first time you ever experienced joy from a man. Without sex. It gave you this idea that you did deserve something remotely similar to love. From someone like Aloysius, or supposed, Aloysius himself. However, he did sound extremely hurt from your rejection. Even though he is currently holding your hand while taking you inside the grocery store, he still has that disappointed rejection facial expression. You didn’t realize what was the main purpose of coming to the grocery store.

“Hey Aloysius, what are we doing here?” 

“I wanted to make some dinner for you. It’s the least I can do.” You were confused by his answer, asking him where he would be cooking. “Oh, I should ask, can I make you dinner at your home?” 

“Um, sure, this should be nice, thanks.”

As the two of you entered the store, Aloysius just stood there. Staring into the entrance. With his hands in his pockets, he hesitated to enter the actual store. You took notice of his behavior immediately, placing your hand on his broad shoulders. “Aloysius, is everything okay?”

Aloysius jumped as your hands rubbed on his shoulders with care. Damn he felt extremely disappointed for not being your boyfriend right now. Though he doesn’t mind holding your hands, he drew the line at more physical touch without your permission. “Y-yeah, I’m fine Y/n. Hey, on second thought, I have to use the restroom. Why don’t you pick out what I can cook for you, then I’ll pay myself, okay?” You furrowed your eyebrows, but didn’t question him.“I suppose I’ll see you later.” You said, taking a shopping cart and leaving for the grocery aisle. Aloysius stayed behind, pulling a key out of his pocket.

On the noodle aisle, you found a packet of fusilli noodles. An idea popped up in your head. Why don’t you eat spicy fusilli pasta? Aloysius might enjoy it too. Searching for a pasta recipe, you found a simple and cheap one. All you needed was the pasta, onions, garlic, crushed tomatoes, heavy whipping cream, and parmesan cheese. 

 On the way to the cheese aisle, you noticed that Aloysius had beaten you to it. He had Parmesan in his hands, shooting it into the shopping cart when he turned around.

“How did you know that I needed Parmesan?” You asked, low-key concerned. 

He hesitated to answer you until he came up with a thought, “Everyone loves Parmesan. It’s a nice little snack when I’m cooking for you.”

“Shredded cheese? If I were paranoid, I’d assume you were reading my mind.” Aloysius only laughed, walking next to you to move your hair away from your face. “Don’t install fear into yourself,” was all he said before taking the shopping cart from you and pushing it to the front of the store.

—————————

In your apartment complex, you managed to bring seven bags of groceries all at once to the third floor. Aloysius, on the other hand, was tired by the time he had reached the first floor. 

“Damn ha, how are you not winded?” He asks, catching his breath, while crouching by the rails. His ebony hair was sticking to his forehead and neck, his skin was pink from the humid air (Curse the summer!), his thigh and calf muscles bulged, and he looked too good for someone out of breath. 

A smile stretched your lips, he looked too attractive. What was wrong with you now? You thought of him as merely a friend before, but now you could sense your Progesterone levels surge, causing you to feel aroused. “Y-you, wanna get inside and drink some water, honey?” Honey, why would I say that? 

Aloysius looked up slowly, as if the sound of his pet name on your lips had reached into something deep inside him and stilled like wax. His breathing, which had been ragged and uneven just moments ago, began to quiet, like a storm pulling back from the shore. There was a flicker in his eyes, part vulnerability, part reverence, as though that simple word had the power to ground him, to tether him back to reality. For a moment, he just stared at you, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that finally matched your own; your little pet name had become his anchor. 

“Honey?” He questioned, genuinely surprised, “That’s a cute pet name.” Your stomach was tied in knots, you felt embarrassed immediately. The little tint of red was prominent as a permanent marker’s ink. Your apartment was only five feet away, but you were too stiff to move. Aloysius stood up, his bags of groceries still in his now red hands. He placed his right-hand bags onto his left hand, patting your back and leading you to your home. He waited for you to find your key and open the door, however, it was not in your bag. 

“What the hell?” you muttered, still searching for your key. You were on the verge of spiraling until Aloysius remembered that he had your key. “I’m sorry, Y/n, I forgot to mention, it fell out of your bag when we were at the store.” He says, taking it out of his denim pockets. You were going to take it from him, however, he had already shoved it into your lock. Swiftly, he unlocked your door, pushing it open to see the inside of your home. He was never able to see the whole house through your phone, so he was amused by how homely it was. 

“Oh God, thank you so much, Aloysius. I swear you’re a lifesaver!” 

“Thank you, and I must say, your home is very beautiful.” He allowed himself to enter the one-bedroom apartment. Aloysius took in your apartment’s aroma, almost passing out from how similar it smelled to you. The musky smell that lingered with your strawberry-scented candles you had blown out several hours ago made him remember that you were human, his human. If only he could bask in the smell for the rest of his days.

You giggled at him, though you felt weirded out by his behavior. If he behaves like this when girls invite him over to their homes, you’re in for a confusing night. 

_________________________________

Aloysius watches you in your kitchen as you wait for him to finish cooking the meal. Cooking was never his forte, but he could change for you. If it means you would finally admit your feelings for him. He is aware that you are conflicted with what you want from him, yet his impatience is killing him. He does so much for you already. What will it take for you to wake up and see that he was the man for you? 

While he was wrapping up, tasting the sauce to see if it was missing something or not, he went ahead and surveyed your apartment. Though it was a tad bit messy, something he wasn’t fond of with former girlfriends, he decided that it was okay to have a slightly messy home. One, because he values how you have your style that he will adapt to when he moves in with you today, and two, he wouldn’t mind being your cleaner anyway, as long as he has access to your materials.

“Dinner is ready!” He called, seeing you flicker your eyes to his. You stood up and sat at your dining table. “I can’t wait to try your cooking, Aloysius.” Yeah, me too, baby. He thought, scooping some of the spicy pasta onto your plate. Picking up both of the bowls and taking them to you. You had clasped your hands together, rubbing them together in excitement. Setting the plates next to each other, you noticed that he chose to sit next to you. Which made you smile at him a bit, placing your hand on his and squeezing it.

“Dig in.” The first bite you took reminded you of eating your grandmother’s meals. You didn’t understand how, but Aloysius embodied your grandmother’s cooking into his. It had you tearing up, setting your fork down. “What’s wrong, Y/n?” you look at him, despite your vision becoming blurry from your tears. “I’m sorry if I’m being dramatic, but your cooking is so great. It reminds me of my grandma’s. I learned how to cook from her, and this takes me back to when I would be in the kitchen with her.” Your words had tugged at his heartstrings. God, he wished he could topple you on this table right now.

“Y/n, be frank with me, please?” He asks, scooting his chair closer to you. “How do you really feel about me? I know this is too early to ask, I’m just dying to know!” His tone came off as a little bit whiny, but he didn’t care to acknowledge it. 

“Aloysius, what’s gotten into you?” 

“I just need to know, do you like me, or not?” He spoke in a calmer tone. 

“Maybe I do like you; I’ve been leading you on, and that’s not fair, you don’t deserve someone who toys with your emotions.” 

“Don’t worry about my emotions, I’m just glad that you feel the same way. But it’s not fair that you admit your truths while I don’t.” Suddenly, Aloysius stood from his chair and left. You assumed he would leave your home until you heard your front door lock, followed by a key falling on the floor. And a hissed fuck. 

“Aloysius, what’s going on?” you called, genuinely concerned right now. Aloysius returns, holding onto a pink key. You looked at the painted metal, then back at him. Also contemplating if it was too late to run. 

“This key…” he murmured, holding it between two fingers like something sacred. “I had it made while you were shopping.”

Your breath hitched.

“I was going to wait—wait until you invited me into your life. Into your space. But since we’re being honest now…” His voice lowered, a reverent kind of hunger curling around every word. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

He took a slow step forward, his smile faint but trembling with something unhinged.

“I love you, Y/n. I’ve loved you since the moment you stepped into my world, all soft eyes and hesitant hands. You think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me? You brought me chocolates. That meant something.”

Your stomach twisted. That wasn’t how it happened.

“I know temptation when I see it,” he whispered. “And you—” his gaze dragged across your body like a caress, “you’re the sweetest kind.”

A chill spilled down your spine. Every instinct screamed Run. But your back was to the wall. He had cornered you perfectly—just like everything else

“Aloysius, what is up with you?” 

“What is up with me? What the hell’s up with you? You’re not getting the memo! I’ve done so much for you, and you haven’t said, “Thank you, Aloysius” to me at all! Especially when I fucked that girl’s cubile with pig shit.” 

“Wait a damn minute–you did that?” Aloysius nodded, seemingly proud of himself for his disgusting action.

“What the fuck?” you mouthed, covering your mouth as you were belching. 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, baby. I had to do it, like how I had to create that app for you to think it was a malware detector, when in reality, it’s a fucking tracker.”

“So it’s all you! That’s why you wouldn’t fix my phone, because of the tracker? What the motherfucking hell you stalking piece of shit?” Eventually, Aloysius set his key on the table to cup your cheeks. He leaned in to rest his forehead on yours, sighing from finally touching you. “I didn’t hack you to be creepy or anything—I just needed to understand you. The real you, not the version you show everyone else. Your texts, your camera feed, your search history… they helped me see you. I know what makes you smile, what keeps you up at night. It’s not stalking—it’s love. I just…needed to know.”

For a moment, the whole apartment grew quiet. Aloysius took this opportunity to press his lips against your plump ones. Not holding back or leaving his place. When he was done, he got up and pulled at your arm, “Come on, let me show you something?” As he leads you to your couch, you take your phone with you. 

“Give me your phone.” Doing as he said, you passed him your cellular object, he typed in your PIN, sliding his fingers across the screen to press on the malware app. You couldn’t believe it. You have a stalker, and he knows every single thing about you. You felt violated, yet…secure? Despite him knowing what you do on a day-to-day basis, you couldn’t help but feel as though you’re warming up to the idea of having a guardian angel. A wicked yet safekeeping idea that was your reality. And when he showed you the tracking app, he made you feel less scared. 

“This is crazy,” you murmured, “It’s wrong, I know, but I just want to protect you, I love you, baby.” He sat on your couch, pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. “This is only the tip of the iceberg of what I would do for your love. Just let me love you.” He says, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. His flesh pink lips were damp from saliva. Aloysius waited for so long to finally have you. To feel you, to touch you. And you’re allowing him to do so. And maybe that was the scariest part—you were letting him. Not because you believed this was love, but because pushing him away felt heavier than giving in for a little while longer.

So, you stayed.

Not because it was what you dreamed of, and definitely not because it was right. You knew exactly what this was. Aloysius didn’t love you in a way that respected space or boundaries. He loved you like he was trying to rewrite your code—like affection was something to be extracted, not earned.

But you were tired. Tired of pretending everything outside his reach was safe or kind or waiting for you. He was the one who paid attention, even if it was through a screen he never asked permission to look through. And while that should’ve terrified you—and sometimes still did—there was also a strange kind of clarity in it. No guessing, no masks. Just his version of the truth, invasive and unwavering.

You didn’t return his feelings. You probably never would. But in a world where you'd been ignored, overlooked, forgotten… being seen, even too much, felt like something. Not comfort. Not love.

Just something.

And for now, that was what you had.

[moosesarecute]

December 23rd

December Masterlist

Masterlist

Azriel had moved you to his bedroom in the House of Wind after you had fallen asleep. You remembered being picked up and shushed back to sleep, but you don’t remember being brought to his room.

He slept soundly beside him. He snored a little. Azriel only snored when he felt exhausted, so you decided to let him sleep for as long as he needed.

You got his shadows to help you out of his arms so that he didn’t wake up, before you moved into the kitchen.

It was cookie time.

With the help of the shadows you first mixed sugar and brown sugar, before you added flour, vanilla and eggs. In the end you mixed in chopped hazelnuts and dark chocolate.

You scooped out over 50 small cookies and baked them in the oven. In the meanwhile, you started on the presents.

Rhys had given you one of Feyre’s favorite dresses. It had three small holes. It didn’t take you long to saw all of them. It looked good as new.

You remembered the dress the second you saw it. Rhys’ mother had used you as a model to make it.

After that, you moved on to an apron. It was Elain’s and you decided to embroider flowers on it. Just like the flowers of you made on the dresses of the dolls Nick and his elves made.

That’s what you were doing when Nesta walked in.

“You’ve been busy,” she said. “Can I try one?”

You picked up one of the cookies that had cooled down and gave it to her. She took a bite and smiled.

“These are so good! You know, the boys tried to make these. They weren’t half as good as yours.”

You could imagine Azriel and Cassian baking together and the mess they would make. The thought made you happy.

“What’s the deal with the cookies? I’ve heard you’re very set on making these all of December.”

You smiles again as memories of your mother filled your mind.

“I grew up in Windhaven too. We weren’t very well off. I was lucky enough to be able to eat dinner with Rhys and his mother most days, but I remember going to bed hungry often. However, in the month of December my mother had been saving for many months to make sure be had money for sugar, eggs, nuts and chocolate. We would make cookies on the 1st of December. The recipe made about 20 cookies, but we made them so small that he had at least 42. Then, we would eat one each every day until Winter Solstice. And if we had more than 42, my father would get the rest.”

It was your fondest memory from your mother. That was one of the many reasons to why you loved Winter Solstice.

“You really loved your mother, didn’t you?”

“Yes, she was the best. She always supported me.”

“She died when you were young, didn’t she? Do you mind me asking what happened?”

“Unlike most fae, my mother didn’t have the best health. She was sick from a very young age. She got worse and worse from the time I turned sixteen. She passed as I turned 19. She got a very short life for fae standards, as she was only 64 as she died. But she got to meet Azriel and that means a lot.”

You and Nesta ended up speaking for quite a while. You spoke about everything: mates, food, books and training.

“Ooo, it smells sooo good,” Cassian’s strong voice boomed through the kitchen as he walked in.

He stumped towards the cookies, but you slapped his hand away before he managed to touch one.

“Cauldron, Cass. You have to wash your hands first!”

He turned to you and you expected to see his annoyed face, but he only smiled at you. He threw himself on you with a hug.

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” he said.

You gave him a cookie and he and Nesta went out to train.

You had finished presents for Feyre and Elain and moved on to Amren and Nesta. You were going to make two different things, but the way to make them were similar. You needed to knit a rectangle and fold it into a book cover for Nesta and a jewelry holder for Amren.

You picked a thicker yarn so that the knitting would be quicker. Then you would sew a piece of fabric on the inside of both of them.

You had just begun when you were covered in shadows. You almost expected Azriel to arrive soon after, but the humming feeling in your chest told you he was still sleeping. The shadows had been following you the entire morning, but right now they were actually holding your entire body.

So you decided to put the shadows to work.

“So you push that needle into this hoop, then you twist the yarn around and flip up the hoop over the yarn twisted around the needle,” you said as you showed the shadows how to knit.

You sat together and knitted and it was surprisingly fun. They would pull your hair once a while because they had lost a stitch or done something else wrong, but they did a great job.

Azriel woke up and was ready to pull you tighter towards him.

But you weren’t there.

Panic immediately filled his chest. Had he been dreaming? Why weren’t you there? He looked at the time. It was eleven. He must have been sick or hurt.

“Kitchen,” his shadows told him.

Azriel threw on a shirt and ran to the kitchen. Relief filled his body as he saw you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and took in your scent.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” you told him.

You must have felt his emotions through the bond.

“It’s okay, just, please wake me next time,” he said and kissed your head.

That’s when he noticed his shadows. His shadows were feared creatures. They often killed or tortured with him. And people ran away in fear from just a sight of them.

But now, they were knitting.

“You taught them to knit?”

“Of course!”

Azriel couldn’t help all the emotions that filled his heart. It was ridiculous, but very cute at the same time.

“You’re cute,” he told you with a new kiss.

The two of you had moved into the living room. Azriel sat and read some reports, while you sewed with your legs in his lap. It was fire in the fireplace and hot chocolate stood on the table.

It was so calm and peaceful.

You were working on sewing the jewelry holder for Amren, when you pricked your finger with the needle.

“Ouch,” you said softly and put your thumb into your mouth. The metallic taste of blood hit your tongue.

You had pricked yourself with needles extremely many times. It became something you almost didn’t notice happened. So you started sewing again.

However, you were filled with a bunch of anxiety. As you looked up at Azriel he looked extremely worried.

He reached for your hand and brushed carefully over your thumb.

“You’re bleeding,” he said. His eyebrows were furrowed.

“Az,” you said. “I’m okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

You moved away your sewing and held Azriel into your chest. His shaky breath told you he was crying. You realized that your blood definitely had triggered something.

“Shhh,” you kissed his head. “I’m here, my shadow. I’m not going anywhere. I’m safe. It was just a small needle. I’m safe in your protection.”

He calmed down more and more the more you spoke. He looked up at you with eyes that were just a little puffier than before. You kissed his forehead and held him a little longer.

Eventually, he started reading again and you moved over to Cassian’s present. You repaired some of his leathers. You finished both his pants and shirt and made sure they were sturdy enough to last him a long time.

For Mor, you begun making a fabric purse with a smaller compartment for makeup, a place holder for a drink and a bigger compartment for anything. The bad was almost finished when you started. You had started it before you got kidnapped. Picking it up again felt bittersweet. Let just say that both you and Azriel crying once again when you brought it out.

“It’s getting quite late, dear,” Azriel said as he held his hand out. He pulled you out of the couch and made the way to the bedroom.

His shadows were swirling lazily around you, but not in a sleepy manner. You moved your hand over to his back and drew a line down his entire back. His wing twitched just a little.

You knew very well what you were doing.

As you closed the door to the bedroom, you kissed him passionately. You moved to kiss down to his neck and ear. He let out a soft sigh. You locked eyes with his gentle hazel eyes and suddenly all you could think of was him.

Taglist: @prettylittlewrites @hailqueenconquer @onebadassunicorn @mich0731 @tele86 @mellowmusings @anarchiii @anainkandpaper @donnadiddadog @atomictyphoonkitten @annablack @graciepies @salvatoresister1 @nastylicious @plants-w0rld @stqrgirlies-blog @scoliobean @kbear8863

Dividers by: @issysh3ll

[nnight-dances]

ADORABLY, YOURS.

pairings: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader, feat. choi seungcheol tropes: love triangle, friends to lovers (jeonghan x you), strangers to friends to fwb to friends (seungcheol x you), kinda slowburn, one-sided love (or is it?), pining, slight age gap (2-3 years) etc. genres: fluff, angst, jealousy, sexual content (no explicit smut content but references to it) with vulgar language, cafe!au, non-idol!au, college!au. word count: 12k (I am sorry about this.) what to expect:  You’ve liked Jeonghan since you met him through your best friend, Wonwoo. But little by little every day you’re convinced he knows you like him and his non-action can only mean your feelings are not mutual. Then, you run into Seungcheol, a childhood best friend of Jeonghan’s, who instantly develops a soft spot for you. The resulting love triangle that wreaks havoc on your emotions might as well end being the answer to your problems. Bittersweet like coffee but decisive as a caffeine rush, this is the story of how you beat all odds to be with Yoon Jeonghan.  warnings slash author’s note: I warn you beforehand: the logistics of this love triangle are a bit morally ambiguous, i.e. I can’t tell if I used Seungcheol purely as a plot-point or not. I probably did. But in my defense, I think all love triangles are inherently a little bit evil and cruel. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this admittedly self-indulgent mammoth of a fic. I had a headache the whole three days I was writing it. I love Jeonghan and I promise there will be a make-up fic for Seungcheol, because I’m biased but not corrupt. As always, this isn't proofread but I will get to that in the next few days! All right, that’s all. Love you, friends and foes!

It’s one of those days. You can’t help yawn after yawn and no amount of caffeine is washing the throbbing in your head away. To make things worse, you’ve managed to sleep with a spine posture worse than even your worst days which means your back hurts from standing at the register all day. But the day is far from over as a glance at the clock informs you; your cafe shift has a good three hours remaining. 

And whenever you’re hoping to take a break on the uncomfortable chair propped in a corner near the register, the door to the cafe will jingle with the presence of a new customer. At least your co-worker for the day, Joshua, is also a friend so you can talk his ear off about the various ways in which you might escape the prison of existence.

Just as you’re going into detail about how you wouldn’t mind dissipating into air, the glass door swings open and in comes a tall man clad in a suit, the heels of his dress shoes clanking against the floor of the coffee shop. You reign in the surprised look that threatens to overtake your face – because goddamn, the man is gorgeous – as you greet him, “Good morning! Welcome to Moon Coffee!” 

“Good afternoon to you, too,” the man corrects you with a dimpled smile. You wince at your mistake and nod, “Right, sorry about that. What can I get started for you?” You force a smile that you hope is friendly enough onto your face, gesturing to the large menu boards above you, “Please, take your time.” 

As the man busies his eyes with the plentiful options displayed on the boards, you busy yourself with questioning what a fancy ass man like him was doing at the campus coffee shop. His hair was long, brown ends curling around his neck and as he ran a hand through it, deep in thought, you could essentially smell how rich he was. 

“The hazelnut mocha sounds like it’s good but also really sweet,” he comments, looking at you for a second opinion. 

“Right, it’s one of our best-sellers! And it is on the sweeter side because of the chocolate in it, but you could balance it out with a double-shot?” you suggest and then, “Otherwise, our classic mochas are not as sweet.” 

The man nods with a slight smile, “Hmm, I like the sound of the first option. I’ll have that, please.” 

“Is that an iced hazelnut mocha with a double-shot for you?” you ask with a smile. When he nods, you punch in his order, “Can I get a name for the drink?”

“Seungcheol.”

“All right, thank you very much. That’ll take just a few minutes. You’re welcome to take a seat and wait.” He nods as he walks to one of the tables next to the window.

Joshua’s already getting to work with Seungcheol’s drink and you take a moment to rest your back against the counter, throwing a glance or two at the new (and gorgeous) face in town. But thankfully for this rich stranger, today is the day you don’t have the energy to go down a rabbit hole trying to find an explanation for his presence. Instead you wave him a good day as he leaves with a satisfied smile on his face and an iced mocha in his hand. 

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all. 

A week later has you eating your words. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Thursday afternoons are the busiest times of your shift at Moon Coffee. Most students were either rushing to down caffeine to finish some daunting assignment due at the end of the week or otherwise, others would be early in celebrating the fast-approaching weekend. The first kind you can deal with: they’re easy to relate to and they don’t really care if your customer service is the bare minimum from how tired you are. 

But the second kind? You wish you could be granted with some kind of powers that would take away any more weekends from the rest of their lives. If the way they strolled in grinning and took their time with the menu didn’t have you fuming, their inane but obnoxious questions about your life would have you at the edge of your temper every week. You were only thankful you didn’t have to work the Friday crowds or you’d actually be declared a public threat. 

But today, unfortunately for you, Jeonghan’s decided to make a visit to the cafe and if the fact that he’s not even a student anymore wasn’t enough, he was celebrating his birthday week. Which meant he was even worse than in exhibiting his usual infuriating customer behavior. But annoying customer or not, Jeonghan was also the guy you’ve harbored feelings for since two years ago now. 

So when he strolls up to the counter with Seungcheol, the polite rich man from last week, by his side, you have more than one reason to stare at them dumbfounded. 

“Oh, hey, it’s you!” Seungcheol starts, eyes trailing to the name on your tag, “Y/N!”

Jeonghan shoots you a confused look and then elbows Seunghceol, “Don’t even pretend that you know her. I totally caught you looking at her name tag. Have a little shame, Cheol.”

You clear your throat, “Um, good afternoon and welcome to Moon Coffee! What can I get started for you?” You punctuate the question with a smile that you hope screams please order fast and get out of here! 

But Jeonghan evidently has long missed the memo when he pokes Seungcheol again, “You know sometimes I come here just so I can see Y/N smiling. She never smiles off the clock. It’s truly devastating.” 

Seungcheol looks amused, “Is that so? I mean, fair enough. With a smile like that, you ought to be paid to show it.”

You cough into your palm, caught off-guard but quick to conceal the shy grin that’s crept up your face. You pray that the heat in your neck doesn’t climb up to show on your face. “Will you be ordering the same as last week? Iced hazelnut mocha with a double-shot?”

Seungcheol’s face lights up a little at your recognition but Jeonghan’s quickly butting in with an affronted expression, “Oh, so you recognize this man who’s been here once, but not your close friend of a long long time? Do you even know how much money I’ve spent on the seasonal lattes here?”

You sport a sly smile, “Right, thank you for enjoying our seasonal menu of beverages. We hope you continue to love the upcoming drinks. Feel free to leave any feedback or suggestions here!” You hand him a brand-new index card and gesture at a drop-box next to your monitor.

Seungcheol cackles at the defeated look on Jeonghan’s face and grins as he says, “You know what, I think I’ll get the same mocha again, Y/N. It did wonders for my mood.” You find yourself grinning almost immediately, tapping in his order with a hum. 

“And for you?” 

“...”

You know Jeonghan’s scheming something but you can’t afford to let him play out whatever sick mind games he’s planned out at your workplace so you’re quick to appease him, “If I might, I suggest you go for the salted caramel brownie latte. It’s perfect for this weather and it tastes suspiciously like birthday cake.” 

Jeonghan can’t help a smile at your words, rolling his eyes a little, “Fine. That does sound tempting. I’ll have one of those, but only if I get a personalized note from you wishing me a very very happy birthday.” 

You contain a scoff, “Of course.” You nod, “Thankfully for the line behind you, I already have your names down. Please step aside while we prepare your drinks. Thank you.” 

– 

“She’s hilarious,” chuckles Seungcheol, bumping shoulders with Jeonghan as they settle into his car. “Didn’t think I would witness Yoon Jeonghan’s downfall in a random college cafe.”

Jeonghan scoffs, “I think you’re too happy about this. Plus, my downfall started a long time ago when I stopped cheating in board games.” He takes a sip of his latte, “Fuck, this does taste like cake. What the fuck?”

Despite his words, Jeonghan smiles when he sees the note you promised him:

jeonghan – happy birthday week, u weird old man! please invite me to ur birthday party so i can give u the best gift of ur life and maybe also stick ur head in cake :) lots of love, y/n. 

“She’s in her senior year, you said?”

Jeonghan looks up with a nod, “Yeah, I met her through Wonwoo, back when we shared a class in college. And then when I graduated and settled here, I’d invite them to get-togethers because I know how miserable the nightlife on this campus is.” 

“Wow, look at you, such an admirable role model,” Seungcheol jokes, “And Wonwoo? Was he the glasses guy who you FaceTimed this morning? He seemed… cool, I guess.”

Jeonghan shrugs with a shoulder, “He’s a piece of work, alright. But that explains why he and Y/N are inseparable. Anyway, you’ll meet the rest of the crew later tonight. Thursday night is board game night.” 

‘Board Game Night’ was a very, very loose term for the weekly gathering at Jeonghan’s place – it was a mix of Jeonghan’s friends, namely Dokyeom and Woozi, from work doing karaoke, his tired college friends (aka your friend group) lounging around on their phones, and maybe a group of two to three actually playing board games. 

Tonight is slightly different, though, because the alcohol that Jeonghan otherwise wisely guards most weeks has made its presence known to everyone, the fancy bar table propped in a corner of his living room finally finding meaning. 

You make it to his place, around thirty minutes past the usual starting time, exhausted from another soul-sucking shift at your job. You’d planned to sit on Jeonghan’s couch and binge-watch some mindless TV show but you’re thrown off when a reddened Seungcheol answers the door. 

“Y/N! You’re late,” he exclaims. His speech is normal, thankfully but as you step in to take in the rest of the people, you look back at Seungcheol, eyes doubtful. 

“I did not know my night was going to involve babysitting a bunch of drunk old men,” you mutter, not quite meaning for Seungcheol to catch your words. But he does and chuckles, hand at your elbow as he steers you to the bar. 

“C’mon, you don’t have to babysit anyone. I’ve got it under control. Now, let me pour you a drink. What can I get for you?” 

You watch the tall man with a skeptical smile, a little flustered because he’s standing close enough that you can feel him hard bicep against you and a little bit amused because well, this was new. It’d been a while since you’d been flustered around a man other than Yoon Jeonghan. 

“Oh, so you’re making me a drink now?” you ask, “How did you even convince Jeonghan to let out the alcohol? You must have some special powers over him for this to happen.” 

Before Seungcheol can supply a reason, Jeonghan appears behind the bar counter, smirking, “Ha! You think I’d let this coward dictate my actions? Nope, this was completely my decision. I couldn’t let the week of my birthday be dry! That’d be such a shame.” 

“You’re funny, Han,” you mumble, turning to him with a quirked brow, “How many drinks are you down?” 

He waves your concern away, “Shut up. I’m older than you, I don’t need you fussing after me. Now, get yourself a drink before I get mad.”

You raise your hands in surrender, “Sure, wouldn’t want the birthday boy to be made at me.”

“So what will it be? Do you want a beer? Or maybe a good old rum and coke?” Seungcheol offers, eyes already searching for the ingredients. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “I think I’ll have a Scotch and Soda, please.” 

A few hours later finds you sprawled on Jeonghan’s couch, nevermind the alcohol in your system and the ruckus your friends were creating. You had engaged with their antics for an hour: playing stupid drinking games (only to get drunker by the minute because you suck at games) and retiring early. 

Jun starts to complain when you announce that you’re giving up, mainly because he’d be the next target of the crowd, but Jeonghan firmly leads you to the couch. 

“You okay?” he asks you, warm fingers steadying you by the neck. Your world spins as he becomes the focus, ironically enough. You nod as you welcome the soft couch underneath your unsteady body, “Hmm. I’m just bummed out that you didn’t help me out by cheating.” 

He laughs and the sound unsettles you with its vibrations. “I told you I don’t cheat anymore, silly. Also, I’m pretty sure you’d have lost even if I did pull out some master cheating moves.” You gasp, weakly pushing him away, “Whatever, man, I don’t need your attitude.” 

If Jeonghan’s started to genuinely get worried about you, it only gets worse when you cough into your elbow, groaning as you pull away. His hands find your neck again. You hate his touch because you lean into it so naturally, your eyes following him just like he wants. You hate the warm feeling you feel when he feels your forehead with a concerned frown. You hate how you’re practically burning at his touch because he’s a breath away and your fingers twitch in your lap from wanting to touch his hair. 

But soft like the strands that tickle your ear, Jeonghan whispers, “God, you’re burning up. Maybe you did drink too much. Fuck, let me bring you some water and then, let’s get you to sleep.”

You protest his lamely sensible plan of action but he isn’t listening as he departs, leaving you feeling cold. You wrap your arms around yourself to compensate, trying to keep an eye on Jeonghan when another tall figure encroaches your field of vision.

“Y/N?” Seungcheol calls out and for a moment, you’re unresponsive, eyes fixated on something beyond him but then you perk up in recognition, pouting as you beckon him to the couch. 

“You–!” you point at him with a squint, head working hard to recall his name, “Um, um, Cheol?” 

Seungcheol smiles at the nickname, taking a seat next to you, leaving some space but extending an arm behind you because of how you’re dangerously swinging. “Right, that is me. How are you feeling? Not too nauseous I hope?”

You shake your head, “”M fine. But tell that to Han because that weasel’s trying to make me sober up and sleep.” You breathe out a little angrily and then when the world swims around you, you lean your head against the back of the couch– that is currently occupied by Seuncheol’s arm. 

He jumps a little at the unexpected contact but steadies himself when he sees your closed eyes, your skin hot against his forearm. “Now, why would he do that? You literally just got drunk,” he tells you, trying to keep you engaged in the conversation, lest you should pass out. 

“Right?” you exclaim, opening your eyes, head still against his arm, “It’s like he’s never had fun in his life. For how much he likes to tease people, he sure is a killjoy.” 

“Ha, I’m surprised you know him so well, honestly. People usually just take him at face value and think he’s a devilish troublemaker. But god knows how mature Jeonghan is. It makes me mad sometimes.”

You giggle and Seungcheol’s stomach swims at how he can feel the sweet sound in his veins, like literally. “You get me, dude. How long have you known him?”

“Um, like, nearly ten years now? I don’t know, I kinda lost count at some point.” 

“Wow, that’s a long time. I’ve known him for like two years?” you hum. “Yeah, he told me.” 

You quirk a brow at that, lifting your head up in amusement. “You two been talking about me? What did he say? That I’m Wonwoo’s evil twin?” 

“Hmm, yeah, something along the lines of that.” 

Jeonghan’s back by your side, suddenly, his strong grip straightening you up and holding up a glass of water. His expression is stoic as hell for a board game night and you don’t know if you feel scolded or cared for. It’s always hard to tell with him. 

You stare at him blankly, not drinking the water like he wants you to. Instead you turn to Seungcheol, “I don’t want to.” 

Your plea is unreasonable, you and Seungcheol both know, and he can practically feel Jeonghan’s glare when you ask Seungcheol, “Cheol, can you tell him I’m not dying? I don’t need to be babied.” 

“Yeah, you do,” Jeonghan says, touching the cold glass against your skin. You jump a little with a soft unfair! and Seungcheol sighs, “Hannie, let her be. I don’t think she wants to go to sleep yet.” 

“Thank you! At least someone has ears ‘round here!” 

Jeonghan shoots his best friend an unreadable look, still firm, “Well, she needs to drink water either way. Unless someone wants the worst hangover of their life the next morning.” This time, his unoccupied hand finds the back of your head, settling into the stray strands of your hair there. “Please, just drink this.”

You find yourself giving in, lips opening up to the glass and you swallow a few gulps of water, the cold liquid soothing your insides. Before you know it, the glass is empty. He holds it up in front of you, “See? That felt nice, didn’t it?”

There it is, again. The playful glint in his eye and the sly tone of his voice. You ignore the burning tips of your ears and give him a half-nod, throwing yourself against the couch again with a relieved sigh. “Thanks, old man! What would I do without you?” 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes as he stands up, “Ever so grateful, Y/N.”

“Y’know, Cheol and I were in the middle of a very mind-opening discussion about you.”

“Me?” his interest is piqued and he glances at Seungcheol, who he jostles lightly, “What’ve you been, shit-talking me?” 

Seungcheol laughs as he throws the man off, “Wouldn’t you like to know? Anyway, if you want to go back to your game, I have a lot of anecdotes to share with Y/N. It’s our bonding time.”

And bond, you do. You spend the rest of the night talking to Seungcheol on Jeonghan’s couch, the owner of the place long forgotten as you go on to talk about everything else: college experiences, Seungcheol’s job (“So how rich are you exactly?” you grill him), and life interests. 

“I can’t believe you like college so much! I hated it a lot back in my time.” 

You snort, “You sound really old for someone who graduated two years ago. But I mean, each to their own. I prefer the comfort of the bubble here, you know. No real responsibility most of the time and you’re allowed to make some mistakes now and then. The real world? That’s like hell. I don’t think I’m ever going to feel like an adequate adult ever. Like, tax fraud is real, you know? And I never know which law I’m going to break? Don’t even get me started about the living situation.” 

Seungcheol laughs throughout your troubled rant, “No, I get it. But don’t you feel excited about the independence you get to have? The freedom? And plus, if you get lucky with your job, working is actually very fulfilling.”

“Ugh,” you throw your head against the back of the couch again, “I don’t think I’ll ever feel fulfilled. Like ever. I feel too immature to be anything but a college student.”

He frowns on hearing that, confused because he’d never imagined of spending a whole night talking his heart out to a college student. But it happened because it was you, with your quick-witted responses and thoughtful questions. So, he’s fast to counter, “That’s not true–”

But his defense is cut short when Wonwoo approaches you, tapping at your shoulder with a smile. “Hey, you wanna head back?” You look up and are shocked to find the living room nearly emptied of its earlier occupants. When did everyone leave? “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your room. It’s getting late,” Wonwoo continues. 

“Oh, damn, I didn’t even realize,” Seungcheol mutters, looking down at the watch on his wrist. “You guys sure you want to head back this late? You could just crash here. I would offer to drive but I drank.” 

Wonwoo’s eyes trail to you, leaving the decision up to you. You mull it over, “I don’t know if Han’s gonna want a bunch of wasted kids at his place?” 

As if you’d summoned him, Jeonghan appears beside Seungcheol with a yawn, “What’s this about me? Why’re you guys still up? Come on, let me show you to the empty rooms and please go to sleep before I have to use force.” 

Wonwoo laughs, “He didn’t even leave us a choice,” and you watch as Jeonghan turns around, expecting you to follow him. 

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you turn to your best friend, “Please tell me you don’t still try to suffocate other people in their sleep?” 

The boy contains a grin, “I don’t know. It depends on how annoying the person I’m with is.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor, asshole.” 

– 

Seungcheol has a problem. 

He likes to think of himself as a reasonable adult, with the ability to make logical choices and admitting to his flaws here and there. But had he been reasonable enough, he wouldn’t be this hung up over someone he met  twice over the course of two weeks. It’s ridiculous: the way his heartbeat’s racing when you tread down to breakfast the morning after the board game night turned bonding time. 

He’s smiling his way through an excited “good morning!” before he can collect himself. You look tired, albeit a little bit lesser than usual, and your hair’s down in something of a mess. Seungcheol vaguely recognizes the faded gray tee you’re wearing, probably a donation of Jeonghan’s. “Morning,” you mumble to the breakfast table, everyone present now that you’re here.

Wonwoo snickers, “You look like shit, dude.” You glare at him as you’re reaching out for a fork, “Thanks, Wonwoo, I see that you’re as sweet as ever.” 

Jeonghan lightly slaps Wonwoo’s arm, “Be nice to her. Who knows what a hungover Y/N might do?”

You turn to Jeonghan, finally eating the piece of watermelon that you’d been reaching for, “I’m flattered you’re concerned but I’ll have you know I’m not hungover.” 

“That’s impressive,” Seungcheol chimes in and you smile at him, “See, I can’t believe this man I met last week understands me better than my best friend and my other friend.” 

“Your other friend? That’s what I am to you???” Jeonghan gasps, hand clutching his chest dramatically and Seungcheol laughs louder than he ought to, but he can barely help it, he’s all giddy. All it took was a half-compliment from you. 

So yeah, easy to say, Seungcheol has a problem and it has something to do with the way you lean into him when you ask him to pass a slice of toast. 

Luckily for Seungcheol, you also have a problem, and it occurs when you declare you need to head back, hoping that they’d let you go alone but Jeonghan’s standing up instantly with a nod. You have a problem with the way he’s unbothered with his behavior, easily saying, “I’ll walk you,” as if your best friend of years wasn’t sitting right there. 

You look to Wonwoo, hoping he’d feel the heat of your expression but he simply stretches his limbs out with a groan, “Think I’ll go take a nap before I leave.”

“Don’t you have a class at 12?” you nudge him subtly, trying to ignore Jeonghan as he stands at the table, fingers tapping at the chair that he’s behind. 

“Eh, I’m ahead of the syllabus in the class and attendance is a joke.”

You sigh in defeat and meet Jeonghan’s eyes as he lifts his lips into a smile. 

And the smile only leaves his lips once you’ve stepped out, clad in your clothes from last night again, groaning when the morning sunlight hits your eyes. “Ugh is right,” he mumbles beside you as he starts walking. 

You catch up to him, hands stuffed down your pockets, and he asks, “You have class?”

“Not really. But I do have an upcoming paper I want to finish over the weekend so I don’t perish next week.”

Jeonghan chuckles as he glances at you, “Wow, you’re still this hard-working, huh? I thought your lifestyle would’ve worn you out by now.”

“You’re one to talk about detrimental lifestyles, Han,” you scoff, “Just because you hang out with us once a week doesn’t mean we don’t know you’re overworking yourself for the rest of it.”

He’s silent for a beat and then he exhales, “Huh. I don’t know. Feels like I have the other kids fooled. It’s always you, with your smart little head and truth bombs.”

You laugh, hitting his side with your shoulder, “I’m serious, Han. Take it slow, won’t you? You’re going to end up burning yourself out to death by the time you’re 30. And then whos’ going to host board game nights?”

Jeonghan laughs and he turns to look at you, walking pace slowing down as he trains his eyes on you. You raise your brows in confusion, a slight smile playing on your lips as you try to guess what he’s thinking this time. 

“You and Cheol have been getting along really well, huh?” 

You’re thrown off guard, not having imagined this to be his next words. You shrug. “Yeah, he’s really easy to talk to, especially given his… I don’t know, social status?”

“Social status?” 

You cough in embarrassment over your words. What were you saying? “Don’t know. It’s just nice to meet someone whose hopes and dreams aren’t being crushed by student debt.”

Jeonghan’s silent again and now it’s your turn to frown because you’re wondering if you said the wrong thing. God, does he think you’re creepy for liking his childhood friend? Fucking hell. 

“I’m glad,” he says but you can sense a strain in his voice, “I was worried he’d get bored to death when he came to visit me.” 

“Ah, well. How long is he around?”

“He took a month off, I think? But he’s got it easy with his flexible hours, so really, it’s up to him when to leave.”

You nod a little, “Cool.” You exhale in relief, a little bit reassured now that Jeonghan was back to talking like his usual self. You’ve finally reached the steps to your dorm by the time the conversation fades away and he waves at you, “Better be on time tomorrow for my party. And don’t forget to bring the best gift of my life.”

You groan when he quotes your note on his coffee from a day ago, shrugging as you turn around to run up to your room and melt into your pillow. But you’ve made it to two steps up when he calls out for you again. You swerve around to face him with a questioning glance.

“Y/N, remember you can come to this old man if you ever need anything, okay? I’m here for you, always.” 

??????????

– 

Okay, let’s rewind a little. 

You’ve known Jeonghan for two years now, enough time to fall for him. You argue it was inevitable because all your life, you’d only been disappointed in your love interests, who would either ghost you in the talking stage itself or break up a few months into the relationship. One time it was because you were too busy with your studies and the third and final time because well, you were apparently too aloof. Not loving enough.

Which is why when Jeonghan came into the picture, you found yourself changing ever so slightly. Not to say you weren’t still a little bit wary of people and took your time opening up, but you met a lot of friends through him and he taught you that trust and attention goes a long way in relationships. If only you could apply this newfound knowledge to new relationships. 

You’d tried: Wonwoo had set you up with a friend from class, Mingyu, and while you’d been able to sit through the first date, by the end of the night, it was clear that both of you were more interested in sex. Which was fine. But then there was the guy who was a regular at your cafe who had given you his number and you’d ended up wondering why you were with him in the bathroom, staring at a text from Jeonghan. 

So you were down pretty bad for him. And as Wonwoo had voiced multiple times before, the next move to make was to actually tell the man that you’d been suffering in your feelings for him. But every time the topic came around, you had only one answer prepared: he already knows. Or so you’re convinced. 

You had good reason to think so. Once, the group of you had been playing an online game that involved picking red flags for other people’s ideal types and when it was time for others to pick some for you, all hell had broken loose. “I bet she likes bad guys who are emotionally unavailable,” Jun had said, quick to drag the flag that said emotional constipation on it. You had defended yourself quickly, “UH? No thanks, men with no emotional intelligence are a hard pass for me. I don’t want to feed into some idiot’s Oedipus complex just because I’m the mom friend.” 

“The mom friend?” Wonwoo had questioned, “Please, Y/N, if anything, you’re the dead friend with a severe case of RBF. Jeonghan’s the mom friend.” 

Jeonghan’s shrug had been followed by a hysterical Joshua going, “Wouldn’t that mean Y/N’s ideal type is Jeonghan? I mean, it makes a lot of sense, he’s mature and emotionally intelligent.”

You’d choked over your next words, cheeks burning, “No, that’s stupid. Don’t be weird.” 

Yeah, very weak defense. 

When Wonwoo brought up the fact that you’d refuted Joshua’s claims and that probably led Jeonghan to believe you weren’t into him, you simply told him to remind himself of what happened next. Dokyeom had laughed, “But you definitely go for older men? I can’t imagine any guy in college being too smart like that.”

You’d agreed in the end, his logic being pretty solid. You had also noticed the way Jeonghan excused himself to the kitchen with a lame excuse about bringing more snacks when there was an array of unopened chips still lying around. 

“Okay, so that’s one example, from like two months ago,” Wonwoo argues as you roll around in bed to avoid his glare, “Do you really think he remembers that incident so well?”

“Two months ago was not that long ago. And it wasn’t just this once. I’m a mess around Jeonghan.” 

“You’re a mess period,” Wonwoo casually declares and when you sit up with an unhinged jaw, he laughs, “No offense.”

“Whatever. I hate you. And I hate Jeonghan. I should just skip his birthday party or I’m just gonna make things worse for myself.”

“Right. And what about the Lego set you spent half your life savings on?”

You pause, heart skipping a beat when you remember the gift sitting on your desk, wrapped securely and the purchase of which you could only justify with the words: Yoon Jeonghan. 

“God, I must be insane. Why did I even buy that for him? He’s gonna think I’m genuinely weird. Does he even want gifts? He’s turning 25 for god’s sake.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond so you can hear yourself and eventually, you do. Jeonghan himself had told you to be on time to his party with the gift alongside. You’re going to cry. 

“You really think I should tell him?” you ask quietly.

Your best friend nods eagerly, patting your arm through the mess of your bedsheets, “Please. It’s high time. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Weird promise to make, but fine. I’ll do it.” 

–

The weight of your promise settles into your veins when you’ve arrived at Jeonghan’s place, self-consciously straightening out non-existent wrinkles in your dress when he comes over to greet you and Wonwoo. It doesn’t leave when he grins at you, wider than usual, and it definitely only gets worse when he accepts your gift with a low whisper that he’ll be sure to open yours first. 

You’re thankful for Seungcheol when he shows up next to you, dimples out as he compliments you in your dress and you return it with a shy smile. Half because you need a distraction and more because Seungcheol’s presence is calming, you follow him to the bar. 

“How’s your night going so far?”

“It could be better,” you mumble, eyes searching for Jeonghan and settling when he doesn’t seem to be anywhere close, “A little bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” he asks you, sliding you a drink and you smile as you take a sip: Scotch and Soda. 

“Hmm, it’s nothing honestly. A lot of work piling up as we speak,” you joke. Seungcheol’s frown melts away, “Ah, of course. Senior year must be crazy.”

The night picks it pace up thereon, with your nerves finding some peace in the buzz from alcohol and your cheeks only hurting the longer you talk to Seungcheol.There’s some dancing of course, here and there, but you find yourself avoiding Jeonghan actively, retracting from the floor whenever he’s close. 

It helps that Seungcheol stays close so that you have an excuse to appear occupied and somewhere along in the night, you tell the man with a smile, “You’re really charming, you know, Cheol?”

He breaks out into that giggle of his, “You think so? I haven’t even pulled out all the stops yet?”

“Really?” you find yourself stepping closer, encouraged by how quickly his hands are at your waist, “What haven’t you done yet?” 

A breathy hum leaves his lips at your provoking and you’re close enough to brush lips against Seungcheol when suddenly, you’re being pulled away. For a moment, you let out an annoyed groan, certain that the iron hold on your bicep is Wonwoo being stubborn again. So when you tilt your head and catch sight of Jeonghan’s black hair falling into his eyes, a glare in place, all words leave your system. 

You’re aware he’s dragging you away and also that Seungcheol’s following, reaching for your hand with words leaving his mouth, but you can’t make anything out. The blood’s in your ears and your heart is in your throat. You can feel Jeonghan saying something at Seungcheol, who glances at you in doubt, and leaves. 

By the time you've calmed down, you find yourself in Jeonghan’s room, door half closed. 

“Jeonghan?” you question a little weakly as he finally lets go of your arm and sits on the bed, his head in his hands. Is he okay? you wonder, standing helplessly near the door. You call out his name again, “Han? Are you okay?”

You step closer to him but stop when he looks up, startled by the lack of humor in his expression. “What were you doing back there?” 

“Um, talking to Cheol.” 

“Talking?” 

“Are you annoyed at me, right now? Or jealous? I can’t tell.” 

Jeonghan goes silent again, gaze dropping to his feet. You’re feeling annoyed by the minute. 

“You’re acting like an idiot, Y/N. You don’t know Seungcheol. And you’re drunk.”

There it was: that strict tone of his, that always left you feeling conflicted and hurt. Today you actually tell him about it, “I’m not a kid, Jeonghan, I know what I’m doing.” 

He looks up at you when you say that, eyes wide. “I never said that. I’m just saying that you should be more careful.”

“I am being careful,” you retort, a hostile edge to your voice, “I don’t know why you do this.”

“I thought you liked me.”

The words stun you into silence and your ears ring as you freeze. Your eyes don’t leave Jeonghan’s form though, watching him, waiting for him to disappear into nothingness as if this was just a dream. How you wish it was. 

But Jeonghan’s on his feet when he notices the horrified look on his face and it’s only when he starts to come closer that you reach for the door. 

“No, Y/N, please let’s talk about it–” he grabs hold of you and you feel your vision go blurry with tears, your back hitting the wall when Jeonghan shuts the door behind you. 

“I knew it,” you mumble out through tears, “You knew about my feelings?” 

Jeonghan’s eyes find yours in the dim lighting of his bedroom and you shiver when his hand tightens around your wrist, “I’ve known for a while. But then you went around flirting with Cheol like it was nobody’s business and I…” he trails off, “I was jealous. And confused.”

You force yourself to breathe out, heart going wild in your chest because of course, Jeonghan’s not addressing the elephant in the room. “Well, I was going to confess to you today and get it out of the way. But there’s no need anymore, I guess?” You cringe at the way you can hear the quiver in your own voice, “Just let me go now?”

“Why?” he asks, “You haven’t even asked me if I like you back?”

You scoff, “God, Jeonghan, you make it sound like we’re in high school or something, all this ‘liking’ talk.” You try to sound stable, only to be contradicted by the tears that leave your eyes, “And I figured you didn’t return my feelings. Or you would’ve done something about it.”

There’s a pause then. A shift. Jeonghan’s grip on you loosens ever so lightly and you fear you’ve understood him too well. For once, you wish you weren’t right. 

“You’re right,” Jeonghan breathes out as if on cue, but his grip is still unyielding to your dismay, “Well, I thought I didn’t like you. I mean, you’re really pretty and funny and being around doesn’t tire me out like it does with others, but… I just liked you as a friend.”

Your heart’s shriveling up at his words with uncertainty because he might be talking about your love for him being one-sided but it is also in the past tense… right? 

“What are you trying to say, Jeonghan?”

He flinches, “Um, I’m sorry. I just– I’m so confused about my feelings, right now. God, I thought I was more mature than this.” 

You can’t help the disdainful laugh that leaves your lips as you push him away, brushing your tears away with the back of your hand. “Look, Jeonghan, I’m sorry I don’t have the time to sit down and help you untangle your feelings… about me. It really hurts to hear you go on about this, honestly. I think I’m just going to leave. Happy birthday, I hope you like your gift.”

–

The night outside is much more welcoming to you now, your shoulders more relaxed than ever now that your stupid crush on Jeonghan’s out in the open for him. You hadn’t expected it to go down like this but well, at least you were right about him already knowing, you know? 

Lighter than before, the drinks you’d chugged before to gather courage catch up to you in the moment when you nearly run into a pole on the street. You would have run into it if Seungcheol hadn’t swerved you out the way with a, “Look out!”

“Fuck,” you mumble when you’re steady on your feet, Seungcheol’s hand firm around yours, “Sorry. I was in my head.”

“I know you were but you gotta watch where you’re going, kid,” he scolds, “I don’t want to have to carry your unconscious body to your room.”

You roll your eyes, “What is it with everyone and calling me a kid tonight? So much for keeping up a track record for being reliable and responsible.”

“It’s not that you’re not those things, Y/N,” Seungcheol says, hand still on yours reassuringly, “It’s just that sometimes you’re… dense. And maybe even something of an idiot.”

“Ah! Excuse me!” you protest, “I am not an idiot. Say that to my grades.”

“An idiot as in someone who doesn’t see what’s right in front of them.”

That shuts you for good, then, and you stop walking with a sigh. “I don’t even know about that, anymore.”

Seungcheol watches as you slow down, tears behind your eyes and his heart hurts for you, thanks to his problem. When he’d found you storming out of Jeonghan’s room with fists wiping your tears away, he’d wrapped an arm around you immediately, listening as you quietly told him you needed to leave. He’d offered to walk you home and you’d watched him for a moment before nodding. 

“Why are you doing this, Cheol? Shouldn’t you be back there, comforting Jeonghan?”

“See, there it is. The idiot side of you.”

You go silent again, looking down at the hand that was clutched in his a few moments ago. 

“...you like me?”

“Bingo. Plus, I don’t think Jeonghan wants to hear from me tonight. Not after I almost kissed you in front of him.”

You let out a surprised sound, hand flying to your mouth when you recall the near-kiss, ears turning impossibly pink under the streetlights. “Fuck, I forgot that happened. I’m sorry? Or you’re welcome?”

“Nah, I can’t thank you till we actually seal the deal,” Seungcheol teases, stepping closer to you and dramatically ducking his head as if going in for a kiss. You push his shoulder away, “Fuck you, Seungcheol.” 

“I mean, sure, if you want to!”

“Ugh!” you start walking with a pout on your face, “I hate the guts of the men in this place!”

“That’s not what your face said thirty minutes ago at the bar!”

“Go away, Cheol, or I’m reporting you to the campus authorities.”

“Aww, you called me Cheol even when we’re fighting. Aren’t you the sweetest?”

– 

When Monday rolls around, you think you’ve got a good hold on your head this time, especially after a few grueling hours at your shift at the cafe. That is until you spot Jeonghan walking in, hair tied back in a half-ponytail and hands crossed across his white cardigan. The sight of him sends you into a frenzy and you debate your options as being between: ducking behind the counter and switching positions with Joshua, or otherwise, manning up and facing the aftermath of your actions. 

You glance at Joshua’s back, his hands busy cleaning the espresso equipment and before you have a minute to ask him to switch, Jeonghan’s at the counter (where’s a line of customers when you need it?), calling you out. “Hey, Y/N, do you think we could talk for a minute?”

You look at him blankly, not expecting him to take the direct route after everything. But you malfunction a little and cut his advances off, “Welcome to Moon Coffee! What can I get started for you?” you ask loudly and then add in a softer voice, “Conversation with me is not on the menu.” 

“Hm?” Jeonghan looks devastated at your cold response but his eyes search the menu board frantically anyway, “Uh, I guess I could get just an iced americano, then, please?” 

You note that down with a half-smile, and almost go on to ask for a name for the order but decide against it, not wanting to stretch your pettiness limit for the day. “Alright, thank you for your order! Please feel free to take a seat while you wait.” 

You relax when he nods with a hesitant smile and takes a seat, close to the window but close enough to the counter to hear his name being called out. You feel the pit in your stomach burn a little at how deflated his shoulders are and you wonder if you ought to drop the act; you’d been into the man for two years now. Right?

But before you can pursue this heart-wrenching line of thought, you’re distracted by the sound of the door opening and– great, it’s Seungcheol. By the surprised look he shoots Jeonghan’s sat figure, they hadn’t planned this… ambush, but you reign in your usual cordiality anyway as Seungcheol approaches you. 

“Hey there, morning. How’ve you been?” 

What did you have to do to have one customer who came in here for coffee?

“Good afternoon,” you correct him, pleased at the reversal of your first meeting with Seungcheol, who chuckles a little. “Welcome, what can we get you today?” 

He pauses, casting a glance to Jeonghan over his shoulder, whose attention is on this interaction, legs crossed and brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, didn’t know he was in here. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“What are you apologizing for?” The question slips before you can remember to be professional and also, a little bit quieter because almost certain that Jeonghan’s heard you by the way he averts his eyes. “Um, I mean, sorry. I can recommend you a drink for the day or do you want to get your usual?”

Seungcheol mulls it over, “Hm, I’m fine with anything you choose for me.”

You pause before punching in the order for a hazelnut mocha, without a double-shot this time. He can deal with the sweetness for a day, you reckon. You glance at Joshua who’s still cleaning up before getting started on the orders because well, it’s a slow day. Or it’s supposed to be.

As you thank Seungcheol for his order and he’s about to step aside to wait, you add in a quick, “And next time, if you want to check up on me, do it when I’m not working.” He does nothing to hide the grin of acknowledgment that takes over his face, a sight that only darkens the storm known as Yoon Jeonghan brewing in the cafe.

You walk over to Joshua, “Dude! Hurry up, we have customers waiting.”

He turns to you slowly, wiping his hands off ever so slowly, even the smile on his face slow. “Don’t worry, it’s just Jeonghan. We know these guys. We can take our time.”

You narrow your eyes at him, wondering if Jeonghan put him up to this act, but don’t question it because even that would be admitting defeat. “Whatever. I’ll make the drinks if you’re going to be annoying. Where’s the syrup for the mocha again?”

Joshua slaps the hand that you’re using to reach for the syrup with a firm, “Uh-uh! Hands off, young lady. That hazelnut mocha is all mine to make. You can work on the iced americano if you really want to help out.”

You groan, throwing your hands up, “So you were slowing things down on purpose, you little bitch.”

“Hello? Please be mindful of the language you use around here. I can report you–”

“Yes, yes, of course, I will just shut up and make that americano so I don’t have to listen to your voice again.” 

A  few minutes later, you’re scribbling Jeonghan’s name onto the cup, proud with the quick work you’ve made of the drink and also thankful nobody was coming in right now. “Han–” you stop yourself just as the nickname slips your tongue, flinching when you remember you’re supposed to be acting stuck up right now.

You turn, hoping that Jeonghan hadn’t heard you but nevermind that because he’s at your side, quicker than he ought to be really (any other scenario, he would be declaring all kinds of knee problems), that sly grin plastered on his face. 

“Hi there,” he greets you, “Called for me, did you?”

“...I did. An iced americano for Jeonghan.” You try hard to make your sentences brief but Jeonghan’s chuckling as he takes the drink from you– using both his hands so that you’re brushing against his. Classic middle school boy behavior. 

If anything, this ordeal was making you question if the man was as mature as you’d believed. Either way, he thanks you with a smile and leaves promptly, leaving a very affronted Seungcheol in his wake. “Hey, I thought you said you were gonna wait for me!” he calls out after Jeonghan, who doesn’t respond as he slides out. 

“A hazelnut mocha for Seung…Cheol?”

You glare at Joshua who frowns at the name as that was the first he’d heard of it, and the guy just shrugs as he puts the drink down. “Sorry about that. Joshua’s feeling rebellious this afternoon,” you tell a frowny Seungcheol (you are a minute away from admitting how cute he is when he’s upset), “Anyway, here’s your drink, Seungcheol. Have a good day!”

“Cheol!” you call out when you spot the brown head of hair outside the cafe when your shift ends. He’d texted you a while after he’d walked off with his drink in hand, pouting because you insisted on calling him Seungcheol. 

meet me after your shift? his text reads. 

do u even know when my shift ends dude 

no and thats why im asking u. when does your shift end?

… u are insufferable. 

insufferable enough to fall 4 u i guess 

when are u going to stop holding your feelings for me over my head?

when you do something about them.

meet me at 6 outside the cafe. 

Yeah, so you wouldn’t say you’re being your wisest self right now. To begin with, you should probably seek out Jeonghan and find closure of some sort. But something tells you to wait on him, wait till he’s ready to seek you out (no, coming up to you during your work shift did not count). Instead, you choose to pursue the… spark that you have with Seungcheol, his feelings for you aside. The night after Jeonghan’s party he’d made it clear that he didn’t really want anything serious, just to get to know you more while you were still around.

A little fooling around never hurt anyone, right? 

So when Seungcheol whines out, “Oh, so I’m back to being Cheol now, huh?” you finally let out the laugh that you’d held back at work at his antics. 

“Nobody ever told me you were such a pouty baby,” you tell him, eyes shameless trained on his pink lips. 

“I don’t pout for anyone, baby,” Seungcheol shoots back, hand on your back as he leads you somewhere. You look at him in question. “What? We’re getting dinner.”

“I was not aware,” you reply, “But all right. Let’s do it.”

Dinner is comfortable. Which is more than you ask for on a date these days. 

“Your dates have really been that bad, huh?” Seungcheol asks you. You shake your head, fork scraping some tiramisu onto it, “You can’t even imagine it, Cheol, it’s hell out there. I’m lucky if the guy pays for the dinner so I don’t have to work an extra shift to make up for it.”

He laughs and you savor the sight, because hanging out with this often hadn’t meant you had become indifferent to his looks. If anything, it was the other way around. 

“Thanks for dinner,” you tell him later as he sneaks his hand into yours. You allow yourself to feel guilty for indulging him like this but then he squeezes your hand, “Anything for you, m’lady.”

Later that night, you invite him to your room. “It’s not much,” you add to the invitation, “But you know, I do happen to have some wine in my fridge that Wonwoo forgot to pick up. And my bed’s pretty cozy to watch movies in.”

Seungcheol is breathless by the time you’re in your room, not only because of the trek up the stairs but also the fact that you’d held his hand in yours the whole way up. “Wow, it sure is cold in here,” he comments as you turn the lights. It is the textbook college room, albeit a little bigger since you’re in a single. 

You cough, “Um, sorry about that. Let me turn on the heater. And you can sit on my bed…” you pause when you remember the mess you’d left on your mattress this morning, in a hurry to make it to your shift but nevertheless, insistent on putting together a fit. 

You sweep up the pile of discarded clothes from your bed and onto an already burdened chair, making a show out of it. You dust your hands off with a smile at Seungcheol who’s been watching with a hand on his hip. “Change your mind about me yet?” you question, teasingly. 

He rolls his eyes as he walks closer to you, effectively bumping you onto your bed, the new angle forcing you to look up at him. He kneels in front of you, his smile turning loving as he takes your face into his hands. “Not a chance,” and then he leans in until his warm lips are on yours, the heater whirring irrelevant now that heat’s rushing up to your temples instantly. 

You taste him and then pull away, “Mhm. Not so fast, you sly little man. I promised you wine and a movie in my bed. And I,” you say as you crouch in front of your fridge, “am a woman of my word.” You shake the cold bottle of red wine at him and he grins. 

An hour later, you’re curled around Seungcheol, glasses of wine long consumed and movie long forgotten in favor of cuddling. You stare at him and then when he smiles shyly, you finger one of his dimples, “Hey. You sure you’re not serious about me? Because I’m…” you hate the way you trail off, the very thought of Jeonghan derailing any sense of coherence you’ve ever had. 

“I know,” Seungcheol’s hand comes to your wrist, “I knew I didn’t stand a chance against Jeonghan since I saw you guys fight at the cafe that day. You look at him like he has all the answers.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you brush off, not completely refuting him. “But if you knew, why’d you stick around and… I don’t know, flirt with me?”

Seungcheol laughs into your neck, “Call it a bad habit of mine.” His hands play with your hair now,  brushing it away from your face, “I see a pretty girl and I have to charm her.”

You drop your head into his chest with a groan, “Stop! You sound so creepy. Like a predator.”

“Hey!” he protests, his chuckles vibrating through you, “You’re the one who called me charming the other day!” 

“Hmm. I guess I did.” 

His hands slowly pry you away from his chest and to his face, lips pressing against yours. You smile a little and then open up for him, shifting until you’re situated on top of him. You close your eyes, surrendering yourself to the kiss and – “Shit, you’re a good kisser.” The man underneath you moves you closer with a pleased smirk, voice smug when his lips trail down your neck, “That’s not the only thing I’m good at.” 

– 

“Sex with older men really is different, huh?” 

You gasp at Wonwoo’s vulgar words, slapping his arm mercilessly making him jump away from you. “Dude! Mind keeping it down? We’re in the library, not your mom’s house.” 

“Ha! Jokes on you, I wouldn’t be making dirty jokes in my mom’s house because Jeonghan is my mom away from home and he would really kick my ass if he heard me talk about you and Seungchel fucking–”

Another slap on the arm and Wonwoo shuts up, groaning in pain. You grimace when you notice a few heads turning your way at the commotion, and bow in apology. When they’re looking away, you glower at Wonwoo, “Seriously, man, what are you up to? Drop the horny teenager act for once so we can focus on the problem at hand.” 

“Judging from the tone of your voice, I’m guessing that you’re not talking about the problem of calculus in front of us, but rather, the problem of… life?” 

You stare at Wonwoo blankly, “I’m so glad you find this entertaining.” As you’re about to continue giving him a piece of your mind, your phone buzzes, cutting you off much to Wonwoo’s relief, who sneaks a look over your shoulder anyway.

cheol: rate last night on a scale of ‘okay’ to ‘let's meet up again tonight’?

You scoff at the audacity and Wonwoo’s already clinging onto this new piece of evidence. “Oh, so what was that about this being a one-time thing? Next thing I know you’re moving in with him when you graduate.”

You slam your phone face down, “Listen, I know you think this is a joke but it’s not. I’m not going to sleep with Cheol again because that’s obviously the right thing to do. But as for Jeonghan, well, it’s been radio silence from him all week.”

“And since when have you let Jeonghan take the lead on your relationship with him? You know he’s a working man so I’m not surprised he’s not texting you at noon on a Wednesday.”

You glare at Wonwoo, “Seungcheol is also very much a working man? I don’t see your point. And also, I don’t know when this became a competition between the two?”

“Since you confessed to one and then slept with the other?”

You exhale heavily, unable to shoot him down because he was at least a little bit correct. Instead you heave your head into your arms. “Maybe I should just fake my death and move away.”

“You’ll give up your dreams of graduation over a stupid love triangle, consisting purely of men?”

“Shit. You’re right. That’s not happening,” you look up, “Jeon Wonwoo, what would I do if you weren’t by my side bringing me to my senses? You’re the best friend I ever had.”

“Actually, your use of ‘friend’ is very offensive to me,” he complains, fisting his palm dramatically, “I consider myself one of the girls. Or even better, your guardian. Refer to me as Your Highness exclusively or I will not listen.”

You stand up with a screech of your chair, “Okay, that was the last of your reasonable thinking. I’m going to go to my shift and work until I can no longer think or pine.”

“Great plan, young one!”

“Touch grass while I’m gone and you might have hope yet.” 

– 

“Look, I really don’t think we should be doing this anymore.”

Seungcheol laughs, eyes searching your face for signs of humor. You flash him a grimace of seriousness and doom. He deflates. “I saw this coming. Should’ve known you would only ever ask me out to a fancy restaurant for dinner to break up with me.”

You flick his forehead, “Break up? Don’t call it that. It gives people the wrong idea.”

“Interesting, Y/N L/N admits to caring about whether or not people get the wrong idea about us. Very interesting,” he comments, not at all sneaky with the way his arm snakes around you, “Anyway, you want me to pay for dinner and what, drag my sorry ass back to Jeonghan’s place?” 

You stiffen at the mention of Jeonghan and then sigh, the following conversation almost inevitable given your current situation. “So speaking of Jeonghan, has he been talking?”

“Um, yeah, he sure has been opening his mouth and saying words.”

“Fuck you, I meant as in, about me? Has he said anything?”

“Not in specific. Although he did inquire if I had slept over at your place two nights ago and when I said yes, he threw a slice of half-eaten apple in my face. Since then whenever I see him, I duck.”

“That’s very funny.”

“Don’t worry, I made sure to tell him how hopelessly in love with him you are–”

“That was not needed.”

“–And how you accidentally moaned his name on my cock.” 

You glare at him, “What about those statements made you think they were okay to voice out loud, not only once but twice?” 

As Seungcheol comes up with a witty defense for his lapse in judgment, your phone buzzes next to your thigh and the name that pops up has you zoning everything out instantly. 

han: hey, can we talk? 

You look away from the screen and breathe out, “And that makes two of us dragging our sorry asses to Jeonghan’s place.” 

When you knock on his door, the last thing you expect to see is a red-eyed, very sniffly Jeonghan. Heck, you hadn’t ever even come close to imagining the heartbroken look on Jeonghan’s face, his eyes downcast when you visibly look taken aback at his state. 

“Han?” 

“Hey,” his voice is hoarse and good lord, you can’t stand this. “Let’s sit in the living room. I was going to go grab some water anyway.”

You follow him speechlessly, watching the way his hands disappear into the sleeves of the black sweatshirt that hangs loose around his frame. You keep watching when he reappears, and it’s when he sits down quietly, fingers whitening around the glass of iced water in hands that you lose it. 

“Talk to me, Han. Are you okay?” you breathe deeply to contain the multitude of concerned questions that threaten to leave your system. For one, you didn't know how to interpret the crestfallen expression he held up when he met your eyes. While someone like Wonwoo (aka a naive little kid) would argue that the only reasonable explanation for it would be that he was devastated that you’d been avoiding him the past week. But knowing what you did about him, you couldn’t let go of the possibility that he was just mourning the impending loss of a friend, i.e. you, when he breaks it to you that he doesn’t like you back. 

Jeonghan senses you’re in your head when you’ve been staring at him for a moment too long, mouth agape, so he moves closer, taking the water out of your hands and placing it next to his emptied glass. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Fuck. An apology? 

You stammer, “S-Sorry? Why?”

“I’m sorry I called you an idiot the other day. You’re the farthest thing from an idiot– and you’re definitely not a kid. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that. I just… I’ve been thinking about us, and I realized that somewhere along the way, I became really over-protective of you. I started treating you like you were fragile or something, and I shouldn’t have.” 

“I’m listening,” you tell him, frown letting up now that he’s finally speaking up.

“And I’m sorry for being a cowardly little bitch about my feelings for you,” he mumbles, eyes dropping to your lap where your fingers play with the fabric of your shirt uneasily. He stops your fiddling, his hands coming to envelope both of yours. “I’m the idiot for thinking I could be anything other than in love with you.”

“Huh,” you exhale again, biting your lip to hold the smile that threatens to spill. 

“And finally, I’m sorry for not doing anything about it when I knew your feelings were mutual. As you know, I’m getting old and–” 

You stop any further stupidity from leaving his lips by – you guessed it – by pressing your lips against them. He lets out a surprised gasp and your smile finally turns into a giggle when his hands tighten around yours in your lap.

You pull away, only to detach your hands so you can bury them in his hair instead and Jeonghan smiles at you, his eyes crescents as they watch you lovingly and you think: the pain was worth it. 

Jeonghan’s smile widens when he feels you thumb at his skin, tenderly tracing his eye-bags. 

“You look terrible, Han, I’m sorry,” you mutter, kissing his cheeks and then his forehead. He’s already mellowing under your hold and he hums, low, “You should be. I went to hell and back when Seungcheol announced he slept with you. I mean, what were you thinking?”

You break, guiltily looking away. “That was not my smartest moment but I was also very distraught about my relationship with a certain someone who wouldn’t contact me outside of my working hours.” 

“You and your stubborn need to remain professional. Y/N, it’s a campus cafe, I don’t think anyone’s going to care if you break your act once in a while. I don’t know, if I don’t get a kiss the next time I visit you– I might just rethink this.”

You scoff in disbelief, “You’re a real pain in the ass, Jeonghan. Maybe I’ll just go back to my room and cry myself to sleep.” But as soon as you make moves to stand up, Jeonghan’s bringing you back to sit, taking the chance to pull you closer into a hug. “You will do no such thing.” 

You freeze when you feel his nose settle into your shoulder, warm breaths relaxing when your hands reclaim their place in his hair. “I love you, Y/N.”

A beat passes and with a kiss to his head, you return, “I probably love you more, old man.”

“If we’re going to date, that nickname has got to go!” 

“What? You’re the one who was complaining about your knee problems last week. It’s fine, I can add this relationship to my list of community service activities.” 

Jeonghan pulls away, standing up abruptly and jerking you upward as well. Your smile falters but then, he’s steering you to his bedroom, throwing the door shut with a grunt. You side-eye him, “What’s up–” He cuts you off, lips hot against yours.

A few minutes later, when his tongue finally lets up, he mutters, “I just remembered that you kissed Seungcheol with this mouth. I’ve gotta do everything I can to erase that memory.”

“I can’t tell if you want me to forget… or yourself.” 

“Shh, I bet he couldn’t even– Wait, why aren’t you wearing a bra? Don’t tell me you were–!”

“You sure love asking questions, old man,” you whine and before Jeonghan can question you further, you take ahold of his hand, sliding it over your stomach and down the waistband of your jeans, the space tight and hot but not as hot as the groan Jeonghan lets out when he feels you. “Holy fuck, you’re wet.”

You grin when he falls to his knees, your jeans unbuttoned and pulled down in next to no time. “There’s more where that came from,” you mumble before he’s between your thighs, ripping out  scream after scream from your throat. 

– 

Genuinely and honestly, if you’d foreseen waking up in Jeonghan’s bed, his hair a mess from last night but face comfortably snuggled in your arm– you would’ve been less mean to Wonwoo. Because it turns out that his voice (of reason? or of deviance? you would never figure it out) in your head had been right: Jeonghan did return your feelings all those times you thought he might.

He tells you all about it when you’ve collapsed later that night, replacing the curses on your lips with dampness in your eyes because of how vulnerable he is, pouring his heart out to you like this.

Propped up on an elbow, he played with your hand, “I remember when you first came over with Wonwoo. I thought I’d met myself, but younger and prettier and sillier.”

“I hate it when you combine insults with compliments so I can’t attack you.”

“I learnt that from you, silly,” he kisses your nose but continues, “But honestly, the more we talked, the more I realized how different you are from me. I mean, sure, are you tired out of your mind half the time like me? Yeah. But you were so observant and so keen on getting to know people. It’s hard to come across people who are invested in friendships for more than just small talk and someone to have meals with.”

But just as he’s getting deep on you, he adds, “Plus, you smell a whole lot better than anyone else. I’d go crazy sitting next to you, especially because you just love to throw yourself at people in laughter.” 

“Not that I’m complaining–” he stops your protests quickly, “I swear my heart would skip a beat everytime you laughed at something I said. And then the time we were talking about ideal types and you got all flustered over everyone teasing you about me? Dude, I had to run to the kitchen before I could do something rash. Like kissing you in front of everyone. Or worse, bride-style carrying you into my room so I could enjoy the adorably lovesick look on your face.” 

You groan into his pillow, “Stooop. This is just embarrassing for me. It’s not like I was trying to be obvious.”

“I know, baby,” he coos, gentle hands prying you away from the pillow, “But you know, you have the same look on your face right now.” He laughs, kissing the pout off your lips with a sweet, “For what it’s worth, I was yours for a long time. Just took a minute for me to realize it.”

You huff but smile despite it and pull him closer, “I’m glad. Now hold me to sleep or I’m gonna be sad.”

Another laugh reverberates through the two of you when he slides down, pulling the sheets closer over you, and pats your back as you settle into him with a satisfied sigh. “Sleep well, my love.” 

–

“And when I’m gone, please don’t stop eating breakfast in the morning. I know you think that it’s consequential to your life completely,” Seungcheol pauses for dramatic effect, “but it’s important. It could be the difference between living 20 less years or 50 more.”

“How scientifically true is that?” you mumble to Jeonghan under your breath, who being the devious little brat he is voices your concern, earning you a look from Seungcheol.

“Whatever, I knew my words were undervalued in this household ever since you guys started dating and refused to keep it down at night. Like, it’s not that hard, right?”

You punch Jeonghan’s arm to both keep him from telling the dick joke he’s about to say and also, to show Seungcheol that you wanted no part in this. “I told this guy to keep you in mind but that just made him mad which in turn led to… screaming. Sorry.”

Seungcheol sighs as he glances at his watch, “Okay, okay. I have to get going now so bring in whatever last-minute reconciliations you two have for me.”

Jeonghan steps forward and hugs the man, surprising both the latter and you. But you watch with a pleased smile playing on your lips, relieved that their friendship still seemed to go strong, bumps and all. When it’s your turn to hug Seungcheol, you scoff at the hesitant look he casts at your boyfriend and wrap your arms around his middle. 

“Thanks for everything, Cheol. Keep in touch. And do something about this second-lead syndrome of yours. I better catch you in a happily stable relationship of your own next time around.”

Seungcheol chuckles quietly, waiting for you to pull away to say, “If that’s an order from the main female lead, then I guess I have no choice, do I? Unless,” his eyes mischievously stray to Jeonghan who already knows what’s coming next, “the male lead fucks up and leaves a certain pretty girl single, huh?”

You don’t have time to decipher if that’s a threat wrapped up in a punchline because Jeonghan’s arm’s around your shoulder, moving you away and besides you, he says, “You’ll be waiting all your life if you wait on me to fuck this up. Bye, Cheol, I can see that your Uber just pulled up.”

“Ha! Good one. Alright, this is goodbye for now. See y’all on my feed. Or it might be better if I don’t. Anyway, bye and don’t kill anyone.”

With Seungcheol gone, you look up at Jeonghan with a smug smirk, “Oh, so you plan on sticking around with me forever? That’s a long time, you know.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, his eyes twinkling, “Please, if I had the patience to watch you hug Seungcheol right in front of my eyes, being with you forever will be a breeze in the park. So yes, I plan to stick to you forever, like superglue.” 

“Gross, you couldn’t say something romantic like candy or syrup?”

“Sorry, babe, but I was just distracted by how all mine you are that I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Never mind, I think it’s worse when you’re all cheesy. Go back to being gross?”

“I love you. Now, come here so I can kiss every single surface of your face. And then we can go on a walk and tell everyone who told me to give up to suck it.”

You lose balance when the laughter finally escapes your mouth but thankfully, Jeonghan’s arms are around you, promising and playful when you meet his eyes. “Ugh, whatever. I love you. So I guess we can do all the weird annoying stuff you want to do for now.”

Despite your banter though, the two of you are so happy together that you’re shocked by the picture of you with Jeonghan that Wonwoo Airdrops, after your walk. You have the dopiest smile on your face and Jeonghan’s looking at you with a cheesy grin. You hate to admit it but you do look like an “old married couple” like Wonwoo’s text teases. But for once, you give in, snuggling closer to Jeonghan’s body because well, yeah, you did plan to stick to him. Like superglue. 

– 

[leonw4nter]

been obsessed with ur fics relating to Taylor’s songs 🥺 can u do one with ‘sl/t’? Just a good ole fluffy fic.

My Cuddly Eldritch Boyfriend!

Eldritch Horror!RE2R!Leon x F!Reader

“Ah yes, my human female companion, I believe I am required to inform you of my whereabouts for today. Since we have run out of the minuscule jar of the chocolate-hazelnut spread you quite enjoy consuming with sliced bread, I had to leave our shared den and purchase some for you. It appears that I have underestimated the price of such delicacy for the bills I have pocketed fell short of a few more dollars,” your boyfriend Leon happily recounted as he showed you the large tub of sandwich spread that he bought earlier today. “Boyfriend”, rather, if he can be considered that.

Leon waltzed into your life quite interestingly, a little more differently than most boyfriends do in the lives of others who have them. You were trapped in an unhappy relationship, the kind where you had to beg to be shown affection and got scolded for buying yourself little goodies like a funny little pond jewelry dish. He was always on his gaming computer or out with his buddies for beer and snacks, yelling at you over the phone whenever you refused to lend him more money. You went home one evening, after a draining workday, to see your “boyfriend” quietly cleaning around the house and stopping to greet you good evening and ask you about your day. It’s quite the contrast to go from an “annoying clingy hoe” to “human female companion” but the latter is leagues better than the other words hurled at you. Leon isn’t even the name of your former boyfriend, wherever he is now; this replacement simply decided to name himself. You know you should be looking for your former partner, wherever he is, but you don’t want to. You’re more than happy with Leon and you wouldn’t want another undeserving girl to fall into the suffocating clutches of your ex.

“A lady has also offered me a small slice of processed meat– a sausage, it is called. Seasoned pork meat rolled into logs, a cut skewered into an infinitesimally slim stake referred to as ‘toothpick’. It is quite delectable, I must admit, but I haven’t any payment in my pockets so I had to politely decline her offer,” he continues recalling. You take out your phone and google a word: “infinitesimally”. This is another of the changes you noticed with your boyfriend: his lexicomane speech; you would never hear words the likes of ‘infinitesimally’ and ‘minuscule’ from him, intelligent phraseology is not in his vocabulary. A few days after the swap of boyfriends, you found yourself having to install a dictionary app on your phone in order to keep up with his sesquipedalian use of words and engage in conversation. You smile, finally spotting the definition of the word: extremely small.

“That’s great, Leon. We still have some sausage in the freezer, though, so I think it’s only right that you didn’t get some coz we might’ve ended up with far too much,” you respond as you set your phone down on the counter. “What brand was it though? I might pick that up for you next time around when I go for groceries.”

“Hm,” he hums in thought.

His human appearance appears to slightly glitch as he delves deeper into his recollections of the day earlier; he appears to have a chromatic aberration, multiple shadows of his head moving about and twitching around in smoky wisps, as several muffled voices of ancient chanting begin to grow a little bit more noticeable in volume. You grow worried yet you stay seated on your chair, carefully observing Leon before anything too out of control and mind-shattering occurs. Thankfully, he finally manages to remember before the voices get too overwhelming for your human mind.

“I believe it was called ‘MorningStar’,” he finally says. He falls silent, head tilting as his face grows expressionless. “Are you alright, girlfriend?”

He steps closer and sits in front of you, back straight and hands in his lap as he continues to observe you thoughtfully, the gears in his head turning to determine how to approach you.

“Oh, yes, Leon. Don’t worry, just zoned out a little. That’s all,” you respond with a forced smile that doesn’t convince him entirely.

“Have you finally observed that I have left the bathroom light bulb switched on during the entirety that I was out purchasing goods to consume?” he quietly asks, voice laced with guilt and shame as he looks at you with something akin to puppy-dog eyes; you didn’t know that eldritch horrors are capable of giving puppy-dog eyes. “I apologize with utmost remorse, my human female mate. In my haste to please you, I have overlooked a step in securing your household utilities.”

You wonder what is the connection between his previous concern for you and the most recent sentence he just uttered then it occurred to you that he wanted to delay admitting to  you that he forgot to switch off the lights; Leon must’ve also forgotten that humans don’t have the level of perception as whatever his kind has, or maybe he assumed that you and you alone possessed that ability. You never would have known if he didn’t bring it up to you. It is funny to see this eldritch being that was clearly trying to pass off as human, as if you had the power of the universe in your palm and could so easily kick him out into the streets, a look on his face now reminiscent of a kicked puppy. It appeared as if he shrank into his olive green sweater, hiding into the warm and dark depths that the piece of clothing offered. Now his ashamed aura was seeping into you, making you feel a slight tinge of what he’s feeling.

“Leon, it’s fine, okay? We’re still in one piece and nothing too bad happened. Besides, I have enough money to comfortably pay off utility expenses so there’s nothing much to worry about,” you reassure him with a gentle hand to his firm shoulder, feeling the spot unwind from the tension beneath your warm palm. “That happens to me too and I get frustrated sometimes but now I just laugh at it.”

He lights up again and that aura of despair fizzles away lickety-split. He beams again, a little too widely for what could be considered normal. He continues rambling on about sausages before asking you about your workday and leaning in to listen intently; you talk and talk, he sits and devotes all his attention to you and answers too, from time to time. He’s a lot more engaging and present when it comes to talking about yourself than your former boyfriend; all he’d talk about is himself and how you’re lucky he loves you, the occasional comparison to other girls. When you’re finally finished talking about your day, it’s Leon's turn to talk about his.

You don’t want to tell him that he’s not perfect on trying to pass off as another ordinary human being– he still tends to unhinge his jaw when he gets excited, his form glitches when he’s deep in thought, he refers to you as ‘human female mate’ or ‘human female companion’ or simply ‘girlfriend’ though in a manner free of offensive intentions, he likes to change the shades of his blue irises, and his verbose vocabulary. Other than the multiloquent manner that he converses in, no one seems to pick up on the irregularity of his physical form, not even when there’s faint shadows of his head fluctuating when he thinks; surely he’s travelling to universes beyond human comprehension just to figure out an answer to “what’d you think of the new Deadpool and Wolverine movie?”. You guess that he’s conjuring some form of illusion that mask slip-ups in his form but why this doesn’t apply to you, you’re not exactly sure but you don’t plan on telling him his lapses; you’re perfectly content with him cooling up your drink with his hand alone in a matter of seconds when you’re out together. He’s far from perfecting the image of a totally human boyfriend but you’re slightly positive that he’s the most perfect lover.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“I would like to relish in the amusement of motion pictures with sound alongside you on our couch,” Leon expresses in mild emotion though he seems quite eager to watch movies, just phrased in a more archaic fashion.

“Me too” you respond with a small giggle at his unintentionally goofy personality. “Got a movie in mind?”

“Movie? Ah, yes. The moving images,” he recalls. “I have overheard this title from a young couple I happened to share a bus with, Kate and Leopold, they said. Appertaining to this hearsay statement, it must be a picture that thoroughly imprints itself on the heart and mind.”

“Kate and Leopold?” you say out loud and he nods. “Sure, why not. C’mon let’s head to the living room.”

“Of course,” he responds with an enthusiastic smile as he gets up from his dining room chair and quietly pushes it back before trailing behind you like the lovecraftian horror puppy that he is.

You put on the movie, both settling into a comfortable silence, attention centered on the film on your TV. In the middle of the film, you realize how you are quite near to him yet he does not make advances to touch you as he appears content with your shoulders touching. You sit up, inching closer to his side yet you don’t make this all simultaneous as you don’t want to shock him into discomfort. Much to your pleasant amazement, he not-so-subtly extends his arm behind your neck and rests it there. You look at his head and his face is still trained on Leopold chasing the snatcher, though the tips of his ears are dusted with a faint bloom of pink; who knew that cosmic beings could blush. Now slightly more confident, he slowly tries to urge you closer to the warmth of his side though he’s now hesitant with his actions. You snuggle closer to his side and now his hand is comfortably resting on the side of your arm where his silvery touch sends a flurry of tingles. Leopold and Kate are now sharing a kiss on a rooftop after a waltz to which your heart nearly goes into overdrive; Leon is not faring any better, visibly red-faced and overcome with butterflies that press up against his lungs (if he has any), making breathing feel a little funny. You wonder if he’s mentally replacing the characters with you and him and the image makes him feel madly excited.

“Leon, are you cold?” you ask towards the movie’s nearing end.

“No, but are you?” he counters, turning to face you now.

“Kinda.”

“Would you like me to fetch some for you?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can get it myself–”

Something heavy and weighted and fuzzy envelopes you from the chest down, placed down by the man beside you.

“What’s this?” you ask in a slightly raised voice.

“A blanket,” he responds in a nonchalant manner.

“Why is it so heavy? I know weighted blankets exist but this one’s a little heavier than what I’m used to…”

“It’s bear fur.”

You fall silent, staring down at the brown fur mass laid above your body before staring back up at him, silently asking if this is his form of a prank. Unfortunately, he is serious about this.

“Um… Leon, I appreciate the blanket but I generally prefer faux fur to actual animal-sourced fur. It’s, you know, more wildlife friendly… yeah, um…”

You need not to say more when the blanket is still brown but is now clearly made of faux fur, having changed it right away without arguments or insults hurled at you. He seems satisfied with his service, adjusting the blanket to cover you up properly without obstructing your view of the movie. You offer to share the blanket but he objects, tomato-faced as he stutters his apology.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The movie is finished and he smiles, remarking on how the couple was correct about their opinions and recounting some of the lines that stuck to him. He seemed to especially adore the portion where Kate is enchanted by the sight of Leopold on horseback, most excitedly analyzing the scene and going into detail about the look of love and the twinkle of Kate’s eyes before sighing dreamily.

“I wish to one day flawlessly emulate the depth of emotion she captured with only both her eyes, though I am well-aware that this is all expert acting. It would be my pleasure to one day look at you with such adoration as you tell me tales for there is nothing more that I desire than to enlighten you about the boundless worship that I present to you,” he wistfully conveys as he watches you walk around the bedroom before settling down to lay beside him.

You softly giggle, biting your lip as his voice bounces off in the walls of your mind and plays over and over again.

“Thank you. You’re doing a great job at that already honey,” you sincerely respond to him as you slip under the sheets and get snug.

“Your welcome,” he softly murmurs as a dopey smile points the corners of his lips skyward.

You ask if you can switch the bedside lamp off and he nods, the darkness of the room taking over as your eyes adjust to the lack of light. You lay still and silent before quietly wishing him a good night and restful sleep, to which he returns before he shifts and faces his back to you. Sometime in the middle of the night Leon awakens to the warmth and weight of your head and arms on his chest, the sight of you causing a human warmth to bloom where a human heart would be. You are peaceful and delicate, basking in the warmth that his form offered; the fact that you sought him out in your sleep made him feel loved, a feeling he didn’t know he’d grow to constantly crave. He pulls you closer and delicately wraps his arms around you in a protective embrace, a soft purr humming from his chest– an actual purr, like a cat’s. He strokes your hair with a silvery touch, daintily patting strands as he thinks about the fragility of his human and how he’d need to be very careful with them. His silky hands cause you to drift between the world of sleep and waking consciousness, growing more aware of his purr. You’re not new to his purring; he purrs when you two hold hands while running errands together, he purrs when you refer to him as your boyfriend to other people, he purrs when he finds out that you bought him a snack he likes. He has yet to discover that humans do not and cannot purr, that’s why you aren’t returning his physical display of contentedness but he’s satisfied that you’re letting him hold you like this. You don’t mind his purring at all and you’re firm on the decision that you love him and that he loves you back.

NOTE - First off, thank you to the anon who requested this!! I hope this one reached your expectations, even if I did put a little twist to it :)) guys... I think we're back!!! coz I decided to start on this last night at around 11:30 PM and I rlly had my creative juices flowing, like it just occured to me so clearly so now ig I'm going to start quite late into the evening if I'm going to start something new :D this fic is inspired by the eldritch horror boyfriend prompts that I came across on TikTok and also bc I felt like writing Leon rlly poetic and soft tonightt teehee :3 That's it and and I hope you really enjoyed this fic :)) Thank you for reading my works!!!!!!!!!! I <3333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!

The dainty chain dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[seoltzuki]

Lunch

nayeon x afab reader

fluff, suggestive, borderline smut

lunch, taste, savour, tease

a/n: reference to nayeon saying her favourite song is lunch

"Lunch?"

Nayeon hums as she grabs two plates and cutlery, setting the table for the both of you. "What? It's a good song," she replies with a shrug.

You sigh and bring the chocolate hazelnut cake to the table, slicing it and placing a piece on each plate. As you sit down next to her, Nayeon beams, incredibly excited to try the cake you both made.

"But out of every song, baby?" you ask, digging your fork into the cake and raising an eyebrow.

Nayeon shrugs again, her mouth already full, a blissful moan escaping her lips. "It's catchy," she mumbles between bites.

Before you can respond or tease her about not hiding her queerness well, she grins mischievously and shoves her fork into your mouth. The rich, velvety chocolate hazelnut cake melts on your tongue, and you can't help but agree—it's the most delicious thing you've ever tasted.

But lunch?

"You know, onces are all going crazy over that," you say with a smile.

Nayeon chuckles, her eyes twinkling. "I don't know how much more forward I can be while still being subtle."

You laugh as she giggles, watching you intently as you savor each bite of your cake. Her own plate is already scraped clean, not a crumb left. She leans back in her chair, satisfied, her gaze never leaving you as you finish your dessert.

She clicks her tongue playfully and leans forward, her thumb gently catching the smear of chocolate at the corner of your mouth. With a grin, she sucks her thumb clean, her eyes never leaving yours, a silent challenge in her gaze.

"I know that look," you say, pursing your lips. You can feel the tension building, aware that whatever happens in the next few minutes will likely leave you flustered or annoyed. Maybe and probably a mix of both.

"What look, baby?" she teases, her voice laced with a hint of mischief. Propping her elbow on the table, she leans forward, her eyes sparkling. She drops her head into her hand, a small, knowing smile spreading across her face as she waits for your response, enjoying the way your cheeks are already warming up.

"It's the look you get when you're about to say something inappropriate," you mumble, finishing your last bite and setting your fork aside. Her grin widens as she watches you, the playful glint in her eyes growing more pronounced.

"Will you let me say it?" she asks, reaching for your hand and tracing gentle patterns on it.

"Nayeon," you groan, moving your head just in time before she playfully nibbles at your earlobe, leaving you completely flustered. She lets out a belly laugh, her amusement contagious, before planting a soft kiss on your cheek. Leaning back in her chair, she looks utterly pleased with your reaction, her eyes twinkling with affection.

"I think the lyrics are very relatable," she states, her fingers idly playing with the sleeve of your shirt. "They almost depict how I felt when I first met you." Her tone carries a soft nostalgia, her gaze fixed on you with a mixture of fondness and contemplation.

“Oh, really?” you say, almost making a face, knowing the song’s explicit meaning which is literally about eating someone out. She responds with a nonchalant “Mhm” before continuing.

"You were so cute when you came in on set," she reminisces fondly, her fingers still playing with the cuff of your shirt. "Telling everyone how to set up the props, huffing when something was heavy, and giggling when something was upside down... You were so incredibly cute I could've eaten you whole," she confesses with a playful grin, her fingers slipping under your sleeve to trace patterns on your wrist. Her touch is light yet intimate, reflecting the affection and fond memories she holds of those early days together.

A gentle laugh escapes your lips, softened by the realization that she's holding back on teasing you too much today.

She smiles tenderly at you, her eyes reflecting a fondness so pure as she continues, "After that time we first spoke to each other, I just knew I had to have you. I remember being so stressed for our first date and the next four. Momo was so annoyed with me," she chuckles, "with how many times I'd ask, 'Do I look okay?'" Her voice carries a hint of amusement at the memory, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of your hand.

“And then our fifth date, right here at this table… I was already so in love with you,” she recalls softly, her eyes locked with yours. “You looked so pretty and you were so sweet… I couldn’t help but wonder if you tasted as sweet as you were.”

Here it is.

Your jaw clenches as she smiles sweetly, tilting her head and biting her lower lip. "Nayeon," you weakly warn, feeling the tension rise between you, unsure where her teasing will lead next.

“After you kissed me that night, I couldn’t think of anything else but you, baby,” she admits, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. Her fingers continue to trace patterns on your wrist, sending tingles up your arm. “When you left, all I could focus on was your lips, their sweet taste and how they felt against mine.”

She leans in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “My mind was consumed with thoughts of you, every waking moment and even in my dreams. During the night, I kept imagining you spread out before me as I tasted you.”

Her hand slips up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “You, right here on this table, with your legs open as I held you down to devour you,” she continues, her eyes locked onto yours with such intensity…

Your breath catches in your throat as her words sink in, her gaze and the warmth of her touch making you completely melt.

“Nayeon,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper.

She smiles, a soft yet mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’ve always wanted you, my love,” she says, her thumb brushing your lower lip. “And seeing you here now, looking so beautiful and flustered, I can’t help but want you even more.”

Her fingers trail down your neck, sending shivers through your body. “I love the way you respond to my touch,” she whispers, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your jawline. “The way your breath hitches, the way your skin feels under my fingertips.”

She pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression tender yet filled with desire. “Tell me, baby,” she murmurs, her voice like velvet. “Do you want me as much as I want you?”

Your heart races as you hold her gaze, feeling the weight of her question. “More than anything,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

A satisfied smile spreads across her face, her eyes darkening with passion. She shifts closer, climbing onto your lap and brushing her lips against yours teasingly.

“So yes,” she says with a playful grin, her voice a sensual melody against your ear, “the lyrics of that song are very fitting.”

Here it is again. Fleeting tease.

“I could eat my pretty baby for lunch,” she sings in a teasing tone, her lips lingering near your earlobe. She locks gazes with you, her fingers tracing light patterns on your neck before placing a soft kiss on your jawline.

“Yeah, they dance on my tongue,” Nayeon continues, her breath warm against your skin as she moves closer, her hands resting gently on your shoulders.

“Tastes like they might be the one,” she murmurs seductively, her lips moving down to your neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses.

“I could never get enough,” she sings softly, her voice low, her teeth grazing your neck before capturing your mouth in a kiss.

“I could buy them so much stuff,” Nayeon whispers playfully, almost breathless, between kisses, her hands caressing your cheek.

“It’s a craving, not a crush,” she concludes with a breathy chuckle, her gaze filled with both amusement and longing as she leans in to kiss you deeply.

Feeling flustered and unable to resist her, you smile warmly and admit, “Okay… Maybe you’re right about that song.” Your fingers gently entwine with hers as you pull her close, stealing another kiss from her.

“Of course, I’m always right,” she answers with a playful grin. She leans in to kiss you again, this time more deeply, her hands sliding up to cup your face.

As your lips part, Nayeon suddenly stands, pulling you up with her. Before you can react, she guides you backward, trapping you against the kitchen table. Her body presses against yours, her hands resting on either side of you, creating a barrier you have no desire to escape from.

Her eyes bore into yours with an intense affection, and she whispers, “You have no idea how much I love you, sweetheart.” Her forehead rests gently against yours, the warmth of her words enveloping you.

"I love you so much more," you murmur back, your hands tugging her in closer by her belt loops.

She pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression tender yet filled with desire. “Will you let me taste you again? Right here, right now? I think you’d look so pretty on this table, tugging at my hair as you moan my name…”

Your heart races, and you can hardly think straight. Nayeon’s touch and her words are intoxicating. She tilts her head slightly, her lips hovering close to yours. “Or maybe,” she continues, her voice a seductive whisper, “you’d prefer the bedroom? I volunteer as your seat, wherever you want me.”

The choice hangs in the air, her eyes searching yours, waiting for your answer. Then a wink.

Such a tease.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “Right here,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I want you right here.”

A satisfied smile spreads across Nayeon’s face. “Good choice,” she says softly, her lips brushing against yours once more.

She then gently pushes you, guiding you to sit on the table. With a determined look, she reaches up and ties her hair back, a playful yet focused expression on her face. Pulling up a chair in front of you, she sits down, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Ready for me, sweetheart?”

Oh god.

[strwbrry-lmnade]

𝔹𝔸ℕ𝔾

⤷ Osamu Dazai x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➤ genre § angst ✎ word count § 4.9k ⊱ warnings § mentions of gunshot, description of injuries, failed suicide attempt, hospital scene, mentions of death, rejection

The sound echoed in the room, unbelievable.

You fearlessly stood your ground in front of the gun, although you were shocked the bullet hit you. The shooter himself stood speechless, watching the smoke exit his abnormal gun in front of you, you weren't even the target at all. You jumped just in time, between when the guy pulled the trigger and right before the bullet hit his original target, whom was the surprised guy behind you.

Dazai Osamu, a name so dear to you. He knows exactly how to get right under your skin sometimes, and other times he knows just the ticks to start out a riot of butterflies in your stomach and make your heart flutter. After all, you couldn't forget the first time you met him.

You were standing on the edge of a building, in a sad thunderstorm. Your tears blended perfectly with the raindrops hitting your face, as the drops streamed down your cheeks and dripped over your chin. Soft hiccups and sobs exited your freezing form, as you watched the busy streets below your toe whilst holding on to the metallic rail behind your waist. Your shoulders shuddered from the cold, as you whined sadly like a puppy. You wanted to scream, but you couldn't.

"Oh my!"

You heard a deep voice from behind that made you gasp, you wanted to turn around but your foot slipped. And so did your fingers from around the rail, letting you fall.

"I gotcha!"

You felt a strong hand wrap around your gentle wrist, as the person pulled you upwards. He sat you on the rail, wrapping his other arm around your waist and pulling you further from the edge to safety.

"There, you're ok."

He said with a smile, letting go of your body and pulling his arms back shoving his hands into his pockets. You looked up to see his dark chocolate brown hair, with a pair of hazelnut brown eyes. He had a calm smile, as he had to look down at you, due to your smaller figure.

"Why'd you do that? I was going to jump either way." You murmured.

Crossing your arms and turning your head away. Only now did the silence alarm you that it stopped raining.

"I thought if we're both here for the same purpose, why not do it together? As a double suicide!" He said, joining you to look out at the buildings and the sea behind them.

"Why do you wanna die?" You looked up at him.

"Let's turn that question around, shall we? Is there really any worth to this thing we call living?" He smiled, looking down at the people who started closing their umbrellas one by one.

"There's a lot, more than you can imagine." You said, and he went silent.

"I lost mine." You murmured, with a last tear slipping down your cheek, but he heard it and stayed silent.

"Then why are you here if you think so?" He asked.

"Guess it was just a mindless moment of sadness. I'm afraid to keep going on my own." You looked down and crossed your arms.

"How about this... I'll be by your side until you find another reason to live for. And you have to prove to me, there is a reason for living." He smiled at you, stretching his hand out for you to shake.

"Deal?"

You blinked twice by the stranger's words, and shook his hand after a moment. With a bit of convincing you two left the building, and went on a walk. You learned that his name was Dazai, and he learned your name. Then you two didn't talk about each other, and none of you asked, until he stopped by a café.

"Let's get a drink, shall we?" Dazai said, making you stop and look at him for a moment.

"I insist." He smiled, opening the door and gesturing you to go inside first.

You nodded and walked in, sitting down at a random table and he sat in front of you. You didn't feel like eating, so you ended up ordering two drinks. He ordered a glass of champagne, which came within 5 minutes, but he waited for your drink to arrive, which was hot cocoa in a white mug. You grabbed it with both hands, feeling it's warmth as you stayed silent whilst starring at the liquid and the steam exiting it.

"For... " Dazai stared at his glass while thinking as he spun it around gently.

"A reason out there... that's for us to live." He held his glass up, with a smile at you.

You blinked twice, and held your mug up, slowly clicking it against his own glass.

That was your first encounter, you still had a trauma aftermath from the incident, but slowly and bit by bit you regained your cheerful personality. And a day after another, you began catching feelings for Dazai. You met regularly on the weekends, and he always took you out for candy. Just like the promise he made, he was always there for you. You learned from one of his friends, that came to pick him up once when you two were out, that Dazai was a suicidal airhead. However, he didn't try to kill himself once after he met you.

One day, you finally decided to let him know that you want to be closer to him more than just a friend.

It was a sunset, where half of the sun was hidden by the sea beside. You were wearing your favorite outfit, while he had his usual, with his coat over his shoulders without his arms being inside the sleeves. You two stood in front of each other when you asked him to meet up, and he asked what is it that you need.

"I... l-like you!" You finally stuttered it out.

A roar of wind came from behind you, and over his face as if adding an atmosphere to his shocked expression. He blinked twice averting his gaze then looked back at you.

"I like you too. We're friends, aren't we?" He rubbed his nape, almost hoping you didn't mean anything else.

"N-no... Dazai, I... I like like you. I wanna be more to you than just a friend. I- I love you." You looked at the ground, with your ever reddening face.

Dazai still had his eyes averted, he couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not in this conversation. You meant a lot to him, the day you didn't text him because you were sick and you were asleep the whole day. He came banging on your door for his life because he didn't see your smile that day. But he just couldn't bring himself to admit the fact he loved you. He thinks he only just likes your company because you're his best friend, and nothing more, but he still doubted himself sometimes. He'd wish you were his, and ask himself a lot what are you to him after all.

After a moment, he brought his hand down, shoving it in the pocket of his pants, then shook his head. He thinks you're probably just as confused as him, he's your best friend, and you probably just care about him so much you think you love him.

"I don't like you that much." He frowned at the ground, shocked at his own choice of words. Although he was wondering at the back of his head, do I?

His heart ached at how rude he said that, and his breath invisibly hitched when he looked at your shocked and hurt expression.

"I'm here to take care of you, remember? Until you find your reason to live. Till then, it's better to just stay friends." He averted his gaze again.

You stood in silence. You didn't cry, or say anything, and neither did he speak again. After a moment he walked towards you, and patted your head before passing you by.

"After that, it's better to go our own separate ways." He said, removing his hand and walking away, not calling after you and you didn't follow him.

You turned around, and watched him leave as a little tear streamed down your face but you wiped it instantly.

But I found my reason to live.

After that, things were cold for a week, mainly because you were hurt at his words, and you took time to heal up. Figuring out that there's nothing you can do, he has no feelings towards you, so beat it. Being his best friend is better than a stranger, right? Avoiding him and mourning won't fix anything. So you called him, after the so many missed calls you had from him. You apologized that you didn't pick up, and told him that you didn't want your feelings to break your friendship with him. He was more than happy to hear that, and as time passed by you went back to your happy-go-lucky aura, and the awkwardness was erased from between you two.

Which brings us now... you had to protect your reason to live, and he, who couldn't process that he did care about you that much, watched his life crumble behind him as you took the bullet. It was a frozen moment, where he just processed your position, and only the sound of your high pitched yelp snapped him back to reality.

"Ack!" You gasped, letting the blood gush out of your mouth.

The bullet hit right under your left chest area, however, the gun was unusual and so was the bullet, it was wider than any normal gun bullet, and it almost made an explosion in your internals where it hit. Blood also gushed out of your injury as the momentum of the bullet pushed you back, but Dazai caught your body before you hit the ground.

Dazai was speechless, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to chase away the life out of the guy's eyes, as Dazai watched you ache on his lap. But he wanted to be by your side, and take care of you, in case these really are your dying breathes.

"Stay still, I got it!" Atsushi came running after the guy as he sprinted away, and another person was heard to be calling the ambulance outside the room.

Dazai watched them leave, then he found himself strangely holding you close to him while starring at you.

"Y-you... what the hell would you do that for?!" He slightly shook you, pressing his hand against your injury to stop the blood from flowing out.

"A-aah..." You starred at his bloody hand, over your own bloody hands in fear as tears streamed down your face. Simply because of the pain, but you had no regrets.

"That's not what I need right now." You whined and turned your head away from him, referring to his yelling.

"Look at me!" Dazai said, not any less freaking out, as he pushed your head back in his direction.

"Y-you... you shouldn't go, we had a- we had a deal! Remember?!" He grabbed your shoulder tightly holding on to you, almost as if by doing so, everything will just rewind and you two won't even be here.

You let out a weak chuckle as you brought your hand all covered in blood up to his face, he didn't flinch and just looked at you. You caressed his cheek with your fingers, as they quivered to stay still against his skin, so he grabbed your hand lacing his fingers with yours, finally understanding it all.

"You really are a dork." You smiled at him, the smile he always waited at night, so impatient to see the next day, making him feel like he'll never see it again.

"Don't you see?" You huddled up to his chest, still holding his hand, as your eyes started to close.

"You were my reason to live." You winced, looking at him through half closed eyes, your smile never leaving your lips.

"I'm not scared, ok? And I have no regrets." You whispered to him, as he slowly rocked you on his lap.

Holding your head to his chest, never letting go off your hand. Soon enough, a tear by tear started going down his own face. He didn't make a sound, as he stared at you in shock and fear. You didn't break eye contact with him, and kept on your smile. Although your body grew tired, and more tired with every second.

"D-don't close your eyes... please." He whispered, his lips quivering as he stroked your cheek.

Never in his life has he ever felt so desperate.

"I'm... not sad, so please. Don't be." You smiled, your eyes now closed as you leaned on his palm.

And with that, you blacked out.

Dazai shook you gently urging you to wake you up, without being annoying, but to no vail. Emergency came rushing into the room, stripping your unconscious form away from his grip. He held onto your arm but a nurse guy held him back, to which Dazai wanted to punch him off but he didn't.

"Sir, you need to calm down!"

"I have a heart beat! It's fading."

Dazai's eyes widened just at the thought that this is it, ending his struggle against the nurse, but he got up once he was let go.

He ran after you, as you were taken to the ambulance car. He sat by your side before they closed the door, and held your hand the whole ride, hoping you'd open your eyes again. Luckily, the ride wasn't that long so you were quickly placed on to a hospital bed and pushed into the building, with nurses coming rushing to your side one by one. Dazai followed you all the way inside, until a nurse stopped him before they took you away behind a door. Dazai pushed her off, leading to more nurses and maybe even a few random passerbys to stop him.

"Just- take care of her!"

The only thing that made him stop and go silent, was right before the door closed. He saw you, giving him a thumb up with a half awake smile. You knew it was going to be ok, so maybe just maybe it will. After all, he can do nothing but just hope.

Evening sheltered over the city like a blanket, and stars appeared in the sky by turns as the dark side of the moon stood in the middle of the sky. Dazai stayed in the hospital, he lost count of the amount of hours he's been sitting here for. He never moved or changed his position, sitting down with his elbow leaning on his lap and his fingers laced together. He received a few calls, and missed most of them, until he saw Atsushi's title on the phone, of course he answered, waiting to hear whoever shot you is captured.

"Yes?" He murmured calmly, but it was obvious that deep down he was losing himself, piece by piece.

"Good." He bit his thumb, thoughtful.

"They're still not letting me see her yet." He ran his hand over his face.

"I'm not hungry." He said, almost angry.

"Yeah, ok. Bye." He hung up, without waiting for the other line to bid farewell.

He exhaled and leaned back, letting his head rest on the wall as he stretched his legs in front of him. He started thinking about the last words he heard from you.

You were my reason to live.

Again, he leaned forward letting his head rest in his hands.

"But are you sure?" He whispered to himself, although he was subconsciously asking you.

He opened his phone and starred at some pictures and videos he took with and of you. Then he remembered the time when you confessed your love for him, as he drowned his face once again in his palms.

I don't like you that much. That's what he told you even though he wondered, do I?

He groaned, almost pulling at his hair.

"Of course you do! You idiot! How have you missed it?!" He yelled practically to no one, growling silently to himself and shaking his head.

"Of course I do, I don't like you. I love you." He rubbed his temples with a hand, as he took in deep breaths.

"And... now... I'll never be able to let you know." He murmured to himself, then sighed, leaning back again.

He kept remembering many moments he had with you, many thoughts he had of you, and many reactions he had for you. How did he never notice? He missed something that was right under his nose, truly an idiot.

One time, two months after you confessed, and everything cooled down, you two were sitting in a café, laughing about something that was very dumb, random, and makes less sense than hot ice. He excused himself for a phone call, and when he came back after five minutes, he found you giggling with another guy. He enjoyed the fact you were more guarded and formal, with the guy than you were with Dazai, whilst you were laughing with Dazai more than you were laughing with the guy. But again, the guy is sitting in Dazai's place like it's his own, what the hell? After processing the situation, and walking up to you. He stood behind you, resting his elbows on your shoulders and leaning on your head as he laced his fingers together in front of your neck.

"Who's this?" He asked.

Your face took a deep shade of red, as you starred at your food.

"D-Dazai, meet Hiroshimi." You gestured to the black head with the blue orbs in front of you.

"Pleasure to meet you, com'on we have to leave." Dazai said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out the café.

"Wait what? Dazai-" You said, as he pulled you off.

The waitress, who was already all too familiar with Dazai's in and out feelings for you, collected your own stuff with a plan to have you pay later as she didn't stop you, but as a matter of fact, wished you good luck.

"Dazai!"

Dazai was almost growling to himself, with so many thoughts, like how could he leave you? How could the guy come and sit with you? How could you accept it? Almost as if his property has been trespassed.

"Dazai!"

You called again, still simply following him without resisting, but he still didn't answer.

The angrier he got, the tighter his fingers on your wrists got. Almost as if the further you walk away from what happened, and the tighter he holds your hand, his anger will just vanish.

"Dazai, you're hurting me!"

Only then did he snap, when you winced and held his wrist to yank it away. He stopped in his tracks and after a silent moment of realization, he let go.

You looked at him with a confused frown, as you rubbed your wrist, and he watched you rub away his fingerprints from on your skin.

"What the hell was that back there? What is wrong with you?" You snapped at him, in anger and confusion.

His eyes widened in pure shock, as he got lost trying to reason what he did.

"What is wrong with me?!" He pointed at himself.

"What's wrong wrong with you?? Since when do you randomly sit with strangers?!" He snapped back.

"Dazai, that was an old friend! He was sitting with me, and even if he wasn't. Even if I didn't know him, why would you do that?!" You gestured to the café.

"You can't just... sit and laugh with random guys!" He shook his head at the ground, then looked at you.

"What the hell is up with that?! It's not your choice to make! And I'm not that type of girl either!"

Am I jealous? He wondered, as he stayed silent. It's true you're not that type of girl, but why is it that it pains him to just remember the image of you laughing with that friend. No, I just don't want her to get hurt.

"I just- don't want you to get hurt." He sighed, reasoning himself although he was still uncomfortable with the fact that this was not the all true answer.

It took you a moment to respond, because it purely didn't make any sense. There was a moment you thought and wished Dazai was jealous, but you immediately wiped it out to not get your hopes too high up.

You finally said with a sigh.

"Well thank you very much, but I can take care of myself."

Silence fell between you two, there was so much Dazai wanted to tell you but even he didn't have it cleared out, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Samu, you really shouldn't have done that." You gave another sigh, using the nickname you have for him to ease the tension.

"I'm going back." You stepped away from him, as you crossed your arms and walked back to the café.

He reached out for you, but he stopped his hand as he watched you leave. He sighed and shoved his hand back into his pocket, walking in the opposite direction.

As he remembered that, it almost felt like you walked away on him that day just because he walked away on your confession and that if he didn't, you wouldn't have walked away either, but in both times, he was the one who let you go.

"If only..." He whispered to himself as he stared at the ground.

"(Y/N) (L/N)'s guardian?"

He heard someone say, and snapped when he saw the white coat.

"How is she?" He shot up, eager but still containing himself.

"We were able to stabilize her condition to a level, however we should stay guarded." The doctor said calmly.

"She's fine, we just don't know if she'll wake up or not. Our only fear is how easy it is to have her slip away." The doctor explained, when Dazai raised an eyebrow.

"How long will it take for her to wake up at most?" Dazai asked.

"We're giving her a week and up, due to the drug we had to give her, and the already tired state she arrived in. We should start to worry within half a month or so." The doctor explained as he looked at the notebook he had in hand.

"Can I see her?" Dazai asked calmly.

"I won't recommend it but go ahead." The doctor said, not expecting Dazai to listen to him anyway.

With that Dazai rushed into your room, and the doctor walked away.

He looked at your calm peaceful form breathing on the hospital bed, your breath appearing and fading on the plastic oxygen mask as your chest got up and down. The only sound in the room was the repeated beep of the heart monitor, along with his own breathing. He observed for a moment, before making another rush to your side, grabbing your hand with both his hands gently and bringing it to his face.

"Damn it, I'm so sorry." He almost teared up as he kissed your hand.

He felt your hand barely tighten one of your fingers on his hand, but he was convinced it's just a flinch, or an illusion.

"I promise I'll make things right if you wake up. I'll wait" He whispered, mostly to himself.

And so the wait began. A full 24 hours passed by, and another day, soon enough the week was over.

Nurses repeatedly asked him to leave but he glared them off, and they couldn't use force in a patient's room. His friends and colleagues visited regularly, to check on him. Atsushi even bought him food and some coffee once.

"I got you some bento, and coffee."

He awkwardly walked in and placed the things next to Dazai, who didn't respond and just kept his head down.

"She'll wake up, make sure you're in a good health to welcome her."

He patted Dazai's hair then left, not waiting for a response, since he got used to it, but he was slightly glad to see the old bento box he bought two days ago half empty.

"Don't make her blame herself that you did this to yourself, this is no one's fault. This was going to happen either way."

And with that he closed the door behind him. Dazai blinked twice at his words then looked at you.

"Maybe if I just- let you go. This wouldn't have happened." Dazai whispered to himself, placing his palm on his face.

His thoughts rewinded to when you met Hiroshimi. Maybe if he just walked away, you would've been attached to Hiroshimi more than Dazai, and wouldn't be here. The image of you with him pained Dazai, but you in a hospital bed pained him more.

He thought it would be best and less painful if you two stay away from each other, if being separate was your destiny then it's best to stay unattached. However here you are, unattached and it still hurts like hell.

The silence was broke by your humming as your breath hitched. It immediately snapped Dazai back to reality, to see your frowning face and narrowed eyebrows. You repeatedly tilted your head softly, slowly and weakly as your hands tightened on the covers. Dazai got up to stand by your side, he gave the sped up heart monitor a glance before grabbing your hand.

"Shhhh, you're ok." He held your hand and laced his fingers with yours, placing his other hand on your head to stroke your hair.

Your hums turned into low groans, as you let your head tilt in his direction.

"Saa.mu.." You whispered tiredly, struggling to open your eyes or say the words.

"Hey." He kissed your hand while stroking your bangs repeatedly.

"Hi." Your voice was much weaker and drier, as you struggled to even smile.

"How are you feeling?" He smiled.

"I feel shot, man." You whispered with a tired smirk, blinking slowly.

He barely chuckled and shook his head, barely biting his lip to hold back a tear but he failed and it slipped down his cheek.

"God damnit..." He hovered over you, picking your head up and your torso into an embrace.

He had an arm wrapped around you on your back, while he picked your head up to hug you properly without having you give any effort to hoist yourself up.

It took you a moment to realize this, but you eventually wrapped your heavy arms around him, you laid them on his back to be more accurate, but you still returned the embrace as you leaned on his shoulder.

"Don't do this to me ever again." He whispered.

"I mean... if you're gonna hug me like this, I can take a bullet-" You said, but he cut you off.

"I'll hug you all you want!" He pulled back to look at you, making you blush.

"Just- don't- please..." He murmured, lowering his head to press his forehead against yours as he stroked your cheeks, some tears streaming down his cheek.

"Osamu?" You whispered, cupping his face to dry his tears using your thumbs.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)... I'm so sorry. I thought that it would be easier and less painful for the both of us if I just stay away. I wanted you to be happy, and I was scared." He whispered, as he looked at you again.

"I never thought I cared this much, and I never thought it would hurt this much." He stroked your cheek with a hand and stroked your hair with the other.

"If it's gonna hurt either way, then it's better to be with you. I'm sorry I never realized it earlier, but I love you. I really do. I always have, and I'm sorry I never told you before, but I'm telling you now." He said.

"I love you to the point I want to spend my life, and after life with you. There is a reason for living, and my reason is you. I love you to the point you make me happy I never got a chance to kill myself." He murmured, and that line pissed you off, but this is Dazai, for the love of god, how else will he express his love?

It was silent for a moment, with your cheeks on a shade of red and the heart monitor was sped up more than normal.

"I... love you too, Osamu. I always did, and still will." You smiled softly.

His lips barely curved into a smile as he grabbed your head and slowly planted his lips on yours. You once again laid your arms on his back and neck, letting him hold you as you kissed back.

Meanwhile outside the room, Atsushi was pointing a gun to the doctor, as a sweat drop streamed down his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I can't let you go in right now." He said.

The doctor starred at the boy, covering his face with the notepad, as the boy turned to his friend.

"Did he make a move yet?" He asked.

"Wait.... oh my god, oh my god, they're kissing!!" The friend cheered in a whisper as he was peeking through the ajar curtains of the room's window.

"Yes!" Atsushi said.

"I fucking hate my job." The doctor murmured as he walked away.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ✧˖° ₊˚⊹ ᰔ༉‧₊˚.

[tinyidle]

Gloves and Chain - KYeoS

Summary: you infatuated with your boyfriend's cyber punk stage tour outfit.. but you especially love his point accessories

Characters/Pairing: yeosang × fem!reader

AU/Trope info: idol au, established relationship

Genre: smut, pwp

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: teasing, dirty talk, reference to marking, choking (giving + receiving), cunnilingus, fingering, slight overstimulation, begging, thigh riding, masturbation, nipple sucking, glove(cum?) sucking, reference to unprotected sex, b!gd¡ck yeosang, roughdom!yeosang, slightswitch!reader, all fiction ofc ofc

Rating: M for mature

A/N: @maltesejjong, im no cream puff (more of a hazelnut chocolate/j), but i wanted so badly to fulfill your request, so here it is! hope your trip goes/is going/went well! fourth submission to @wonderlandnet + first submission to @newworldnet. tagging @strayteezsimp

you scrolled through your feed, mesmerized at the outfit your boyfriend was wearing. the all-black outfit, from the tank to the jeans, were simply stunning. but two things he was wearing caught your eye and slowly soaking center: his gloves and neck chain. one glove was regular sized albeit fingerless, but the other one was a fully covered glove that nearly reached his elbow. the chain around his neck was pretty snug around his neck, yet loose enough for him to look comfortable. you wondered how he would look like when you guys would be together in private, especially if you asked him to wear those items specifically for you.

as you were thinking, you decided to be bold and text him if he had access to the gloves and necklace. it didn't take long for him to respond with a '?', forcing you to reveal your intentions. yeosang took some time before agreeing to wear them for you-- just as long as you wore what he liked.

the next night was heated as you both barged into your shared bedroom, messily making out. your boyfriend decided to surprise you by wearing the full stage outfit that gave you the earlier proposition; even down the the light sheen of sweat he was sporting in that picture due to him working out a bit before. you smiled softly as he kissed your lips and began taking off your clothes. you were wearing regular loose-fitted top and bottoms, but underneath you had what was his favorite lingerie set on you.

"mmh," he hummed, eyeing you similar to a hungry animal, making you blush. yeosang removed his tank top, throwing it onto the ground near you. then afterwards he pulled down and kicked off his skin-tight jeans. the only items he had on now were his boxers, pair of gloves, and neck chain. leaning down to give you a small peck, he whispered in your ear, "lay down, baby."

getting on the bed and laying down, yeosang crawled up to where your closed legs were and went up until he reached in-between your breasts. you sighed as he subtly inhaled your scent and exhaled ever-so quietly, lips lightly pressing against your breastbone. his arms traced over your waist and thighs, warming you up and getting you ready for what's to come. you felt him remove his hands from your body for a second, leaving you confused for a moment before moving down to tracing your thighs. then, with another breath, he started kissing and nibbling the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, slowly opening them to let himself fit.

"yeo- oh," you whined as the slightly rough material of the gloves teased the area where you need him most, and he knew that.

unlatching from the slightly darkened area he was on, yeosang caressed the peach-colored material of your panties before feigning innocence, "what? i can't love my girl now?" you whined a bit louder, causing him to smack your clothed clit, making you jolt. "use your words doll," he forewarned. "what do you want from me?"

doing your best to not sound whiney or desperate, you replied, "can i please have your mouth? and use your necklace?" your boyfriend chuckled in spite of you, causing your cheeks to burn and your head to turn to the side. yet your request was greatly granted as yeosang pulled the lace down your legs and tossed them elsewhere. kissing up your inner thigh again, he reached your pressure point and kissed your clit like he did your chest earlier. only this time, instead of you sighing in content, you gasp in the sudden spike of pleasure.

with one more kiss, yeosang spread your legs apart even more. "use me how you want, guide me using my necklace even," he said as his tongue made contact with your cunt. you squirmed in place as the wet and warm, yet tender touch electrified you. you pushed yourself and your knees up, making your boyfriend move up and wrap his arms around your legs.

with each swipe of his tongue against your clit and throbbing hole, your sounds of pleasure grew louder and louder, with you tugging continuously on the chain and his hair, making him grunt into you. "fucking love this pussy," his muffled voice sounded as it vibrated around your folds, going back to flicking his tongue against your clit, bringing forth more moans from you.

you bucked and rolled your hips forward, going from having your hands lightly tugged his hair strands to having your feet planted on the floor while pulling hard on the chain around his neck, nearly choking him and sending pleasure through yeosang. hearing him let out a choked moan caused you to loosen your grip a little, but your hips stayed elevated as you were near the brink of release. "sangie, im about to cum," you did your best to tell him.

you swore you heard the phrase 'cum for me' come from his mouth, but since his mouth was on you, you only felt vibrations that kickstarted your orgasm. your legs began to shake as your boyfriend stayed between them, licking you clean before kissing you all over your cunt. you kept your legs open and slightly bent as yeosang trailed kisses up your side, hands helping himself up behind you until he reached to your face, kissing your lips and cheek. you reciprocated his physical affection before steadying your breathing again as he held onto you to help you go down from your high.

after relaxing, his fully gloved hand that rested on your stomach made a beeline from your breasts to your neck. lightly gripping you, you made a low groan as his other hand went from your stomach to your engorged clit. wrapping his fingers around your neck more firmly, his thumb rubbed in circular motions around the slight stretch on your neck while his middle finger circling around your soaked hole. "you want my fingers, doll?" he asked, his deep voice making your cunt leak more arousal.

nodding with tears formed in your eyes, you pleaded, "please sangie." he nodded before he pressed his lips to your cheek and nuzzled his nose against your neck. yeosang slowly inserted two fingers into you, stretching you more than your fingers ever could. you couldn't contain your cries as you started grinding your pussy into his fingers. letting go of your neck so he could better stroke you, he started kissing you all over your neck and shoulder.

yeosang looked up at you to see your current state. your eyes were glazed over, tears streaming down your face as your mouth was left open, drool lightly making a settling pool under you. he simply snickered and lightly taunted you. "look at my dirty doll, so open and exposed for no one but me. ive only given you appetizer, yet you're already fucked out."

moving his fully gloved hand to your mouth, he pushed two fingers on your tongue, telling you to "suck". your mushy brain did it's best to comprehend his order before your lips enclosed around the faux leather material. humming from the fresh yet slightly sweaty taste of the glove, yeosang worked his fingers inside of you, inserting a third one before curling his fingers and allowing his thumb to make circular motions on your clit. your walls tightened around him as your arousal coated his palm.

he grinned at you as you shook even more than before, signaling your impending orgasm. "wanna cum, baby? think you can make a bigger mess on my hands than on my face?" you nodded and whined a high-pitched 'please' before he gave you the go-ahead through his thumb rapidly swiping across your clit. your cunt clenched down around his fingers and you came hard, biting his other fingers lightly. still holding onto you, yeosang started stroking your clit again while talking you through your orgasm, which caused you to emit an audible hum of enjoyment.

kissing your cheek once more, he carefully pulled his fingers from both your mouth and pulsing core, making you shift your jaw about from the steady stretch and close your legs from the emptiness of you. your boyfriend still didn't cum, and you still wanted more. reaching up to meet each other again, you both made out in a more romantic way, tongues languidly chasing each other as you straddled yourself on one of yeosang's thick thighs. he slipped his fingers into your mouth that were coated with your juices. "taste how sweet you are," he told you.

your tongue quickly licked the sticky mixture off of them before you went to pull his boxers down enough for his lengthy cock to spring out. once you cleaned off his hand, yeosang pulled down your lacy bra until your breasts popped out. you started rocking your hips back and forth, licking one of your hands before reaching do to stroke him. as he groaned, he took your nipples in his mouth to muffle any further noises he'd make, wanting badly to only hear you.

you were panting heavily as you did your best to simultaneously rub your core on your boyfriend's thigh and stroked his length. meanwhile, yeosang had his mouth on your breasts, sucking and kissing them all over while his gloved hands grasped your ass tight. once you moved up and down his lap faster, yeosang was overcome with desire and his erection grew harder. he gripped your firm globes harder and teased your sensitive nipples with his teeth, sending shivers throughout your body and making you speed up your thrusting motions.

"s-sangie," you tried to call out for him, but he only grunted and forced your body closer to him, your palm continuously swiping the slit of his head. he groaned and pushed your hips down on him as he flexed his thigh, make you cry out. "fuck, yeosang. im gonna cum!" you did your best to pull back and lift yourself near yeosang's pelvis. "i want you to fill me up, please sangie, please!" you begged.

your boyfriend groaned as he swiftly pulled his boxers down and lined his strained cock to your aching entrance. when he entered you, you both let out a satisfied groan. helping you out of your bra, yeosang whispered to you, "im gonna fuck you so good until i wear you like a good cocksleeve."