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theetherealbloom · 3 months ago

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IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.8

Chapter Eight: He Got My Heartbeat Skipping Down 16th Avenue

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Making Out, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, Heavy Overthinking, Boats, Cruise Dinner,

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Let’s all collectively pray that Pedro doesn’t EVER read any of my work god bless and thank you.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: I Think He Knows by Taylor Swift

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CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

Pedro is sitting across from you, his long legs stretched out under the small table, his ankle brushing against yours every so often. He’s comfortable here, like he belongs in your space. And maybe he does.

He’s been hovering, checking on you, bringing you food, tucking you in with the kind of care that has your heart doing somersaults in your chest. And now, he’s looking at you with something warm in his gaze, something almost nervous.

“I was thinking,” he starts, running a hand through his curls, “we should go out this weekend. Like… a proper date.”

You blink at him. Once. Twice.

“Like… a date date?” You blurt out, immediately wanting to crawl under the table.

Pedro grins, dimples and all. “Yeah, a date date.”

You open your mouth, then close it, then open it again. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Believe it, sweetheart.”

“This weekend, though?” you say, suddenly remembering. “That’s when I get my stitches out.”

Pedro shrugs, easy and nonchalant. “Then we’ll do that together.”

Your breath hitches slightly. Together.

You bite your lip, glancing down at the table, at your hands, at anything but him because if you look at him too long, you might melt into a puddle.

“Okay,” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

His fingers brush yours, a soft touch, grounding you. “Okay.”

A two days pass.

Pedro never really leaves.

He’s in your room every night, sleeping beside you, taking care of you like it’s second nature. He wakes up earlier than you, presses a soft kiss to your temple before leaving for set, and every time you open your eyes, there’s a fresh cup of coffee waiting on the nightstand with a little note written on the hotel’s stationary.

Drink your coffee, take your meds, miss me a little.

You always do.

To pass the time while he’s gone, you draw. You sketch the view outside your window, the way the evening light filters through the curtains, the memory of his hands on your skin. Sometimes you hum to yourself, letting your voice fill the quiet. Sometimes you read, but you’re always careful when Pedro’s around because you still haven’t recovered from the time he caught you reading fanfiction and you had to pretend it was something entirely not about him.

And every night, he returns, drops his things by the door, and makes himself at home in your space, even though he has a perfectly good—larger—room of his own.

“You know, your bed is way bigger than mine,” you point out one night, arms crossed as you watch him steal your pillow like it’s his pillow.

He smirks, slipping under the covers like he owns the place. “I like yours better.”

You narrow your eyes. “Liar.”

He grins, stretching his arms behind his head. “It’s not the bed, sweetheart. It’s the company.”

You stare at him, heart flipping over itself.

Yeah.

You’re absolutely, utterly, completely screwed.

Pedro stretches out on your bed, like he belongs there, like he’s always belonged there. His arm is tucked behind his head, his shirt slightly rumpled from the long day, and his legs are sprawled out like he has no concept of personal space.

You huff, crossing your arms as you stand at the foot of the bed. “You know, I wasn’t actually inviting you to take over my bed.”

He smirks, patting the spot beside him. “And yet, here I am.”

You squint at him. “You have a room, Pedro.”

He tilts his head, eyes softening as he watches you. “Yeah, but I like this one better.”

Your stomach flutters at that, but you roll your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words affect you. Instead, you climb into bed, careful of your stitches, and settle into the pillows.

Pedro turns on his side, facing you, head propped on his hand. His gaze flickers over you, slow and thoughtful, like he’s cataloging every little detail. It makes your skin heat.

“You feeling okay?” he asks, his voice dipping into something softer.

You nod. “I’m fine, Pedro.”

His lips press into a line, like he doesn’t quite believe you. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

You exhale, heart warming at the concern written all over his face. “Yes, mother hen.”

Pedro snorts. “Good. I was this close to spoon-feeding you soup earlier.”

Your mouth falls open. “What?”

He grins. “What? You were ignoring your food, I was getting worried.”

You groan, flopping onto your back. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.”

Pedro laughs, the deep, raspy sound wrapping around you like a blanket. “What’s embarrassing about me taking care of you?”

You peek at him from beneath your arm. “Everything.”

He hums, reaching out to toy with the hem of your sleeve. “Better get used to it, sweetheart.”

Your breath catches.

Because he says it like a promise.

Like he’s not planning on going anywhere.

The thought is dizzying, and you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nod.

Pedro watches you for a beat before exhaling, reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. The room plunges into darkness, except for the sliver of city lights filtering through the curtains.

You’re left facing each other in the quiet, breaths mingling in the small space between you.

Then—

“Hey.”

His voice is low, sleep-rough.

“Yeah?”

There’s a pause.

Then, “This is nice.”

You swallow. “What is?”

“This.” His fingers brush yours in the dark. “Being here. With you.”

Your heart stutters.

You don’t know what to say to that, but you don’t have to, because Pedro just squeezes your hand before settling back against the pillow.

And slowly, slowly, you drift off, feeling safe.

Pedro wakes up early for set, always making sure you have everything you need before he leaves. Sometimes, that means tucking an extra pillow behind your back or leaving a bottle of water on your nightstand. Other times, it means making sure your phone is within reach or adjusting the curtains just enough so the morning sun doesn’t hit your eyes too harshly.

But the constant, the one thing he never forgets, is pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before slipping out the door, murmuring a gruff, "I’ll be back soon, sweetheart."

And throughout the day, his texts come like clockwork.

Pedro: Did you eat?

Pedro: Did you take your meds?

Pedro: What are you doing right now?

Pedro: Do you miss me? 😉

You roll your eyes every time he sends that winky face, but you still answer.

You: Maybe.

And every evening, without fail, he comes back.

Some nights, he brings dinner—tossing a greasy paper bag onto the bed, giving you an easy smile as he shrugs, “Figured you could use some real food instead of whatever sad snack you had today.”

Other nights, he’s dead on his feet, barely making it out of his clothes before collapsing onto the bed beside you. His body is heavy with exhaustion, but he still turns to you, nuzzling his face into your shoulder, voice scratchy and thick with fatigue as he mumbles about his day.

And then there are nights when you wake up for no reason at all—just a shift in the air, a change in the silence—only to find him already awake, propped up on one elbow, just looking at you.

Like you hung the damn stars.

You don’t ask him what he’s thinking.

You don’t have to.

It’s late, and Pedro is stretched out beside you on his stomach, chin resting on his folded arms, watching as your pencil glides over the page. His breathing is steady, slow—content. The air between you is quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind. It’s warm, familiar.

And then, he notices.

His brows furrow, lips quirking as he tilts his head. “Is that me?”

You freeze, fingers tightening around your pencil.

He smirks. “That’s me.”

Shit.

“No, it’s not.” Your voice comes out too quick, too defensive. You clear your throat. Cool it. “It could be anyone.”

Pedro pushes himself up onto one elbow, squinting at the page. “Sweetheart.” His voice is a slow drawl, playful but laced with certainty. “You literally sketched my face.”

You purse your lips. “That’s just, like… a coincidence.”

His smirk deepens. “A coincidence.”

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh.” He shifts closer, propping himself up just enough so he can rest his chin on your shoulder. His breath is warm against your skin. “Am I your muse?”

You groan, shoving his face away, heat crawling up your neck. “Shut up. Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He chuckles, easily catching your wrist before you can retreat, fingers curling around yours. His thumb brushes over your pulse, slow and deliberate.

His voice softens. “I like it.”

You don’t look at him, but your lips curve just slightly, betraying you.

And Pedro sees it.

And Pedro feels it.

And before you can even think of another excuse, another deflection—

He presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, lingering just long enough to make your pulse stutter.

“Draw me again sometime,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing. “I promise I’ll pose for you.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t say no.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — MORNING

Saturday morning arrives in a slow haze of golden light filtering through the curtains. You stretch beneath the covers, wincing slightly when you feel the dull ache from your stitches. Right. Today’s the day.

You’re finally getting them removed.

Pushing yourself upright, you glance over at Pedro, still sprawled across your bed like he belongs there. One arm is draped over his eyes, the other resting lazily across his chest, his breathing slow and even.

You shake your head, smiling softly as you slip out of bed and head to the bathroom to freshen up. By the time you’re dressed and ready to leave, Pedro is awake—barely. He groans as he stretches, blinking blearily at you.

“You’re up early,” he rasps, voice thick with sleep.

You arch a brow. “We have somewhere to be, remember?”

He hums, rubbing a hand down his face before propping himself up on one elbow. His curls are a mess, sticking up in different directions, and his shirt is wrinkled from sleep. It’s ridiculously endearing.

“Right,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Your stitches.”

You nod, pulling on your shoes. “You still coming with me?”

Pedro swings his legs over the edge of the bed, cracking his neck. “Sweetheart, I offered to take you.” He stands, stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to expose a sliver of his stomach. “You think I’m backing out now?”

You huff a small laugh. “Just checking.”

He grins, stepping closer to ruffle your hair. You bat his hand away, but the warmth lingers.

As you both step out of the room, you glance up at him. “So… where are we going later? You know, for our date?”

Pedro smirks, slipping his hands into his pockets. “It’s a surprise.”

You narrow your eyes. “Pedro.”

He chuckles. “What? You don’t trust me?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “That’s not the issue.”

“Mm,” he hums, tilting his head. “Then what is?”

You hesitate before muttering, “What if I want to dress accordingly?”

Pedro stops walking, turning fully to face you, a slow smile spreading across his lips. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “Sweetheart, you’d look good in anything.”

Your face heats instantly, and Pedro knows it. He winks, then gestures toward the exit. “Now c’mon, let’s go get you fixed up so you can stop wincing every time I kiss you.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is racing.

Today is going to be interesting.

ER — EARLY AFTERNOON

You’re so glad you both decided to go to the ER in the morning—because by the time your name is finally called, it's nearly lunchtime.

Pedro has been nothing but patient the entire time, keeping you distracted with quiet jokes and subtle touches, his knee knocking against yours, his fingers occasionally brushing your wrist. He’s dressed inconspicuously—cap pulled low over his curls, dark-framed glasses perched on his nose, and a coat zipped up against the chill outside. You’re bundled up too, matching his casual, low-key look, though you both know that if anyone really paid attention, Pedro Pascal in an ER wouldn’t stay unnoticed for long.

A nurse leads you into a small examination room, offering you a kind smile as she checks your chart. “So, you’re here to get some stitches removed?”

You nod, shifting on the paper-lined exam table. “Yeah. The doctor said they should be good to come out today.”

She hums, scanning the notes. “Looks like everything healed up nicely.” She glances up, curiosity in her eyes. “How’d you end up needing stitches in the first place?”

You hesitate for a split second, not really sure how to phrase it. Before you can come up with something, Pedro, who has been leaning against the counter with his hands tucked into his coat pockets, chimes in—voice warm, effortlessly charming.

“She saved my life.”

Your head snaps in his direction, brows shooting up.

The nurse's eyes widen slightly. “Oh?”

You groan. “Pedro.”

He just shrugs, casual as ever, like he wasn’t just out here making you sound like some hero in a dramatic action film.

“It’s not a big deal,” you mumble, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Other people would’ve done the same.”

Pedro tilts his head, leveling you with a look over the rim of his glasses. “Doesn’t make it any less impressive, cariño.”

The nurse smiles, clearly entertained by the exchange. “Well, whatever happened, sounds like it was quite the ordeal.” She wheels over a small tray with supplies and snaps on a pair of gloves. “Let’s get these stitches out, then.”

Pedro stays close, watching as the nurse works with practiced ease. The removal doesn’t hurt, just a slight tugging sensation as the stitches come free. Still, Pedro’s hand rests on your knee, thumb stroking over the fabric of your jeans—a silent reassurance.

“All done,” the nurse announces after a few moments. “Everything looks great. Just be gentle with the area for the next few days, but you’re good to go.”

You exhale, relieved. “Thank you.”

The nurse smiles, then glances between you and Pedro before adding with a knowing glint, “And try to keep out of trouble.”

Pedro laughs, slipping his hand into yours as he helps you down from the table. “No promises.”

Your face burns as you leave the room, Pedro’s fingers still loosely laced with yours.

Outside, he tugs his cap lower, the corner of his lips twitching. “So, officially stitch-free now. How do you feel?”

You glance up at him. “Pretty good.”

He grins. “Good enough for our date?”

Your stomach flips. “Yeah,” you murmur. “Good enough for that.”

You don’t realize you’re still holding Pedro’s hand until he gives it a small squeeze, tugging you ever so slightly closer as the two of you step outside the hospital doors. The cold air nips at your cheeks, but the warmth of his touch lingers, grounding you.

“So,” you say, exhaling, “where are we going?”

Pedro’s lips curl into a smirk, his breath visible in the crisp air. “You’ll see.”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

He just grins and tugs you along, leading you toward a waiting car.

LITTLE VENICE — GOLDEN HOUR

You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this.

The two of you stand by the water’s edge, the amber glow of the setting sun reflecting off the canal. The air smells of autumn—crisp leaves and the distant scent of warm pastries from a nearby café. Houseboats bob gently along the docks, their string lights flickering to life as the sky shifts from gold to dusky lavender.

Your breath catches. “This is…” You trail off, taking it all in.

Pedro watches you, his expression soft. “Pretty great, huh?”

You turn to him, eyes wide. “How did you—?”

He shrugs, looking unfairly pleased with himself. “Heard you mention you’ve never been.”

Your chest tightens at that. You can barely remember when you’d said that, but clearly, he had remembered.

Before you can even process how much that means, Pedro’s gently guiding you toward one of the docked boats—a narrow, beautifully restored canal boat, its deep blue paint glossy beneath the fading sunlight. A small sign by the entrance reads PRIVATE EVENING CRUISE — RESERVATIONS ONLY.

Your eyes snap to his. “Pedro.”

His smirk widens. “Surprise.”

A thrill rushes through you as a staff member greets you both, ushering you aboard. The interior is stunning—cozy and warm, with plush seating, soft lighting, and a table set for two near the window. A bottle of wine waits in an ice bucket, next to a selection of small plates: fresh bread, olives, cheese, and a few things you don’t immediately recognize.

You glance up at Pedro, still slightly stunned. “You planned all this?”

He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little bashful. “Wanted to do something special.”

Your heart melts.

You don’t trust yourself to say anything, so instead, you take his hand and squeeze, letting your fingers linger. He squeezes back.

As the boat begins to move, gentle ripples breaking the canal’s glassy surface, Pedro pulls out a chair for you. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice warm. “Let’s make a night of it.”

The conversation flows as effortlessly as the water beneath you. Pedro pours you a glass of wine, the deep red liquid swirling in your glass as you sip and listen to him recount stories from set—his voice low, expressive, endlessly captivating.

You find yourself laughing a lot, warmth bubbling in your chest.

“You laugh when you’re nervous,” Pedro notes, watching you over the rim of his glass.

You blink. “I do not.”

His lips twitch. “You so do.”

You huff, taking another sip. “Maybe you just make me nervous.”

The words leave your mouth before you can think better of them, and your face burns as you realize what you just admitted.

Pedro stills. Then he leans in, elbows resting on the table, gaze darkening just slightly. “Yeah?”

You swallow hard. “I—”

He tilts his head. “Is that a bad thing?”

Your pulse skips. “No.”

A slow smirk spreads across his face. He doesn’t push further, just settles back into his chair with a knowing look that should be illegal.

The boat rocks gently, candlelight flickering between you.

For a moment, neither of you speak—just watching, feeling, knowing.

Then Pedro shifts, reaching for another piece of bread. “You gonna sketch this later?”

You roll your eyes, grateful for the reprieve from the intensity of his gaze. “Oh, absolutely. I’m going to document the exact moment Pedro Pascal got all smug on our first date.”

He barks out a laugh, then leans across the table, voice teasing. “First date, huh?”

You freeze.

He grins. “That mean I get a second one?”

Your heart thunders.

“I—” You clear your throat, gathering your composure. “I guess that depends.”

“On?”

You chew your lip, watching the way his gaze flickers down to your mouth.

“On whether or not you’ll keep making that stupid face at me.”

Pedro laughs, full-bodied and warm, before leaning back with an easy shrug. “Can’t promise anything, sweetheart.”

He pours the last of the wine into your glass, his fingers brushing yours as he sets the bottle down. It’s nothing, just a casual touch, but it still sends a shiver up your spine.

He notices.

His eyes flicker over your face, his smirk softening into something quieter, something warmer.

“So,” he says, tilting his head, “you already know way too much about me. Feels a little unfair.”

You raise a brow. “Do I?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he says, grinning. “You’ve seen me exhausted. You’ve seen me half-asleep, drooling on your pillow.”

You let out a tiny laugh. “You don’t drool.”

“Cariño, I definitely do.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

Pedro’s lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually ask. Then he leans in, resting his chin on his palm, considering you.

His voice dips, softer now. “What made you want to do what you do?”

It’s such a simple question, but the way he asks it—the genuine curiosity in his voice—has you gripping your wine glass a little tighter.

You shrug, exhaling. “I guess I always liked… creating things. Bringing ideas to life. It never felt like a choice, really. More like something I had to do.”

Pedro hums, like he understands.

“Plus,” you add, a little teasing, “it keeps me busy. Gives me something to do when I’m not babysitting actors.”

Pedro laughs, head tipping back slightly. “Ouch.”

You grin. “You set yourself up for that one.”

He shakes his head, eyes bright as he watches you. “You’re dangerous.”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach flip.

You swallow, setting your glass down. “What about you?”

Pedro blinks.

You tilt your head. “Why acting?”

He exhales, running a hand through his curls. “I mean… I could give you some poetic answer about storytelling and human connection, but honestly?” He leans in slightly, eyes twinkling. “I just really loved movies as a kid.”

Your heart melts.

“That’s it?” you ask, smiling.

Pedro shrugs, but there’s something earnest in his gaze. “I wanted to be part of them. That feeling you get when you watch something really good—when it stays with you? I wanted to do that for someone else.”

You don’t realize you’re smiling until Pedro mirrors it, his own expression softening.

There’s a lull, comfortable and easy, the boat rocking gently beneath you.

You should be relaxed.

But suddenly, your chest feels tight.

Because you want this.

Not just tonight. Not just stolen moments in hotel rooms or quiet laughter over takeout. You want—

Him.

All of him.

And that realization terrifies you.

Because you know what this means.

If you and Pedro were to actually—god—date, you’d have to go through HR. There’d be paperwork, meetings to ensure everything was above board. And then there was PR.

You knew how this worked. You’ve watched enough rom-com movies and read so many romance books. The moment someone snapped a picture of the two of you—walking too close, looking at each other too long—it’d be everywhere.

And what if—oh god—what if it didn’t work out? What if everything unraveled and suddenly the easy, warm thing you had with Pedro turned into something awkward and painful and—

“You okay?”

His voice pulls you back.

You blink, realizing you’d gone too quiet. Pedro is watching you, head slightly tilted, concern flickering across his face.

You inhale sharply, pasting on a smile. “Yeah.”

His gaze lingers and he reaches for your hand, fingers tracing over your knuckles, grounding you.

And you let him.

Pedro’s fingers brush against yours, absentmindedly tracing circles on your skin. It’s distracting, in the worst—and best—way possible. Because while your brain is busy spiraling into the logistics of dating him (HR, PR, and the absolute circus that would come with it), your body is attuned to something else entirely.

The warmth of his touch.

The way his thumb skims your knuckles, slow and deliberate.

The fact that he’s still looking at you, waiting.

You should pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, you let yourself revel in the moment—the quiet intimacy of it. The unspoken something humming between you.

Pedro tilts his head slightly, his voice dipping into something lower and softer. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Shit.

You wet your lips, glancing away. “Nothing.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Liar.”

Your fingers twitch beneath his, but Pedro doesn’t let you go. If anything, he tightens his grip, his thumb grazing along the inside of your wrist. Your pulse stutters beneath his touch, and the bastard notices.

His mouth quirks. “You gonna tell me, or do I have to guess?”

You exhale, trying for nonchalance. “I was just thinking about… logistics.”

Pedro’s brows lift. “Logistics?”

You nod, keeping your eyes trained on where your hands rest between you. His are warm, calloused, steady—while yours feel like they’re trembling.

He waits, because he’s patient.

You swallow. “You and me.”

That catches his attention. His fingers still against yours. “You and me?” he repeats, as if he needs clarification.

You nod again, throat tightening. “If we—” You hesitate, glancing up at him. “I mean, if we—”

Pedro leans in, smirking. “Sweetheart, if you say ‘if’ one more time, I’m gonna start thinking you don’t actually want this.”

Your face warms. “That’s not—”

“Because I do.”

That shuts you up.

Pedro watches as your lips part, but no words come out. He squeezes your hand gently, his voice quieter now. “I want this. I want you.”

Your breath hitches.

He’s serious.

Gone is the teasing, the playful back-and-forth you’ve come to expect. Instead, there’s something raw in his expression. Something real.

It terrifies you.

It thrills you.

Because god, you want him too. You want the hand-holding and the stolen kisses. The nights spent talking until dawn, and the mornings where he’s still half-asleep, murmuring your name against your skin.

But it’s not that simple.

Your job. His job.

The entire world watching.

You press your lips together. “Pedro—”

“I know,” he says, before you can voice the fear curling in your stomach. He squeezes your hand again. “I know what you’re thinking. The press, the attention, the PR nightmare.” His lips twitch. “HR paperwork.”

You groan. “It’s a lot.”

“It is.”

You glance up at him, finding nothing but understanding in his gaze.

“But,” he continues, voice steady, “none of that changes how I feel about you.”

Your heart lurches.

He exhales, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “Look, we don’t have to figure everything out tonight. We don’t have to rush into anything.” His lips curve. “But I do think we should stop pretending like this isn’t happening.”

You bite your lip, hesitating.

Pedro watches you for a moment, then—so softly—he murmurs, “I mean, we’re literally on a date right now.”

You exhale shakily, still nervous, still unsure.

But when you meet his gaze, all you see is him.

The man who stays with you every night, who takes care of you, who watches you like you hung the damn stars.

And suddenly, the choice doesn’t seem so complicated.

You nod. “Okay.”

Pedro grins, squeezing your hand once more before lifting it to press a lingering kiss to your knuckles.

“Good,” he murmurs, against your skin. “About damn time.”

The night air is cool against your skin, a crisp contrast to the warmth still lingering between you and Pedro. You stand beneath the glow of the streetlamp, hands tucked into the pockets of your coat, shifting on your feet as you both wait for the car to pull up.

The date had been perfect—sweet, intimate, just the right mix of playful and real. And now, in the quiet of the evening, with the city humming softly around you, the weight of it all settles in your chest.

You glance up at him. “Thank you for tonight.”

Pedro turns his head, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Of course.”

“I mean it,” you say, voice softer now. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

He raises a brow, smirking. “Sweetheart, it was a date. That’s kinda the point.”

You huff out a laugh, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Yeah, but I would’ve been just as happy staying in bed, cuddling and watching TV.”

Pedro tilts his head, considering. “Noted.” He slips his hands into his coat pockets, rocking back on his heels. “So next time, we skip the fancy dinner and go straight to you wrapped up in my arms?”

Your face heats. “That’s not—”

“Because that’s exactly what I’m hearing.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “I walked into that one.”

Pedro chuckles, stepping closer, ducking his head slightly so you can’t hide from him. “You really did.”

You peek at him between your fingers, and he’s watching you with that same look—the one that makes your stomach flip, the one that makes you forget about all the reasons you shouldn’t be doing this.

Sighing dramatically, you drop your hands and shake your head. “I’m probably gonna have to put all my social media on private after this, huh?”

Pedro snorts. “That or just straight-up deactivate.”

You groan again. “Great.”

“Hey.” He nudges you this time, his smile teasing but fond. “I’ll protect you.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, sure. From the merciless Twitter discourse?”

He grins. “From everything.”

Your breath catches.

Because he says it so easily, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like he means it.

The car pulls up, but you don’t move, and neither does he. The world around you feels smaller somehow, quieter, like the streetlamp glow is its own little universe where it’s just you and Pedro, standing too close, staring too long.

And then—so softly—he says, “C’mon, let’s go back to the hotel.”

And you do.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

The ride back to the hotel is drenched in a thick, unspoken tension. Not awkward, not uncomfortable — just heavy with the weight of what now?.

You sit next to Pedro in the back of the car, closer than you probably should be, his thigh pressed against yours, his arm casually draped along the seat behind you. Every bump in the road shifts you slightly closer to him, and neither of you do anything to stop it.

Your heart hasn’t stopped hammering since dinner. Every time you glance at him — out of the corner of your eye — you catch him already looking at you. Smiling that soft, fond smile like he’s already memorized the shape of your mouth, the slope of your nose, the exact way your eyes light up when you laugh.

And god, you’re fucked.

Because now you want him. Like, really want him. Not just in the dreamy, faraway way you did when you first met him — but in a raw, aching, desperate way. You want his mouth on yours again. You want his hands gripping your waist like he can’t get enough of you. You want him in your bed, in your space, in your life.

But you also know what happens if you let this happen. The HR meetings. The PR nightmares. The rumors. The tabloids. And oh god, what happens if someone already snapped a photo of you tonight? Did you already trend on Twitter without knowing it? Did DeuxMoi already post something? Is your inbox about to implode?

You feel sick.

Pedro must notice the shift in your expression because his hand gently grazes your knee. “You okay?”

Your head snaps up. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m just—thinking.”

He smiles. “About?”

About how I want you so bad it’s physically painful.

About how I’m probably already in love with you and I’m gonna ruin my entire career if I act on it.

About how you’re gonna kill me when you find out how unprofessional this is.

“…Stuff.” You force a laugh. “Good stuff. Don’t worry.”

Pedro’s quiet for a beat, like he can see right through you. Then, softly — “You’d tell me if something was wrong, yeah?”

Your throat constricts. God, why did he have to care so much? Why did he have to be so good and sweet and thoughtful — it just made you fall harder.

“Yeah,” you rasp. “I’d tell you.”

The car slows in front of the hotel entrance. Your stomach flips. Pedro shifts, his hand grazing your thigh as he reaches for the door. “C’mon.”

You step out into the evening chill, and Pedro is already there — waiting for you, like he always does. His hand brushes the small of your back as you both head inside, and it takes everything in you not to lean into it.

The lobby is quiet, warm light casting golden shadows across the marble floors. You barely register the receptionist’s polite smile as you pass. All you can think about is him. The warmth of his touch. The scent of his cologne. The way you’re about ten seconds away from inviting him upstairs.

The elevator doors open. Pedro gestures for you to step inside first.

And the silence kills you.

Your heart is a hammer. Your pulse is thick in your throat. Neither of you speak, but you can feel it — the tension, the pull, the gravitational force tethering you to him.

Finally — just to break the silence — you clear your throat. “Thanks again for tonight. Seriously.”

Pedro’s mouth curves into a small smile. “I should be thanking you. I haven’t had a night like that in… a long time.”

Your chest aches. “You didn’t have to do all that, y’know.”

“I wanted to.” His voice is quiet but firm. “I wanted to take you out. I wanted to see you laugh. I wanted to… just be with you. Is that so hard to believe?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

The elevator dings. You almost jump.

Pedro steps out first, waiting for you. The walk down the hallway is agonizing. Not because it’s long — but because every step feels like a countdown to goodnight.

You reach your door. Your hand fumbles with your keycard. “So, um—” You force a laugh. “I guess this is—”

Pedro cuts you off. “Do you want it to be?”

Your mouth goes dry.

“…What?”

“This. The end of the night.” He’s watching you like he already knows your answer. “Do you want me to say goodnight and leave?”

The air crackles. You physically cannot speak.

“…No,” you breathe. “I don’t.”

Pedro’s mouth quirks. And then — without breaking eye contact — he slips his hand into his back pocket and pulls out your spare room key.

Your jaw drops. “You still have that?”

He twirls it between his fingers, smirking. “Told you. Your bed’s better.”

“Oh my god,” you choke out, covering your face. “That’s not even—”

“I’m serious.” He steps closer. Close enough that your breath tangles with his. “I don’t wanna leave. Not yet. Not when I finally have you here — really here — with me.”

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

Your mouth crashes into his before you can stop yourself — desperate, hungry, wild. His hands find your waist, pulling you against him with a groan, like he’s been starving for you all night. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, and Pedro growls into your mouth.

“Jesus fuckin’—” he gasps, dragging you toward the bed. “Been thinking about this all night, sweetheart.”

“Same,” you breathe, your back hitting the mattress.

Pedro laughs, low and rough. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you admit, breathless. “You—god, you have no idea how bad.”

His mouth devours yours again, tongue brushing yours in a kiss so deep it leaves you lightheaded. His hands are everywhere — your waist, your hips, your thighs. You whimper when his mouth moves to your neck, and he smirks against your skin.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re killing me.”

“Good,” you rasp, clinging to him.

And god, it’s perfect. It’s heat and teeth and hands tugging at clothes and whispered please, please, don’t stop. You’re pretty sure you’re seconds away from completely falling apart when—

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You barely hear it. Just the faint vibration of your phone somewhere across the room. You ignore it. Pedro doesn’t notice.

His mouth is on your throat, and you’re gasping, arching into him when—

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“…Shit,” you pant, barely coherent. “Phone.”

Pedro groans, not even slowing down. “Ignore it.”

“Okay.” And you do. Because right now, nothing else matters except his mouth on your skin, his hands in your hair, and the undeniable pull of yes, yes, yes.

But it doesn’t stop.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Yours. His. Both phones — vibrating frantically, insistent and loud.

“…The fuck?” Pedro pants, finally pulling back. His hair is wrecked, his lips kiss-swollen, and he looks utterly ravished.

You groan, covering your face. “Oh my god, we’re so fired.”

Pedro laughs breathlessly, reaching for his phone. “It’s probably nothing.”

It’s only after your shirt’s halfway off and Pedro’s mouth is dangerously close to your collarbone that his phone won’t stop buzzing.

“…Jesus,” he groans, reluctantly pulling away. “Who the fuck—”

You groan, rolling onto your back, panting. “Just — answer it. Before we actually get arrested or something.”

He groans dramatically, dragging himself off you and fumbling for his phone. “Swear to god, if this is Joseph asking about football—”

But he freezes.

Staring down at his screen. Mouth slightly agape.

“…Pedro?” you frown.

He doesn’t answer. His face has gone completely blank.

Your stomach twists. “What’s wrong?”

“…They’re not calling about us.” His voice sounds distant. “It’s not about the dinner or the kiss.”

Your brow furrows. “Then what—”

But your phone vibrates again. And this time, you actually look.

Missed calls. Texts. Notifications. From everyone. Your supervisor. Pedro’s publicist. Omar. Daisy. Random work contacts.

And then you see it. The text from your manager that stops your heart.

Supervisor: They’ve reviewed the footage. Call me immediately.

Your stomach drops.

“…Pedro,” your voice cracks. “What footage?”

He’s staring at his phone like it just shattered his entire world. Pale. Breathless.

“…The accident,” he finally says. “The day the light rig fell. They — they must’ve gone through the security footage. And now—”

You freeze.

And then, from the corner of your eye, you catch a name flash across your screen.

Rob Beggs, Safety Manager. Incoming Call.

Your throat locks.

“…Oh my god,” you whisper.

And that’s when Pedro looks up at you — his face drained of color, his throat tight — and all he says is:

“They have news about what happened... about the accident on set last week.”

The phones finally stop ringing.

And the silence that follows feels like it could crush you.

End Notes:

LOL I HAVE BEEN HIBERNATING

I hate midterms with a burning passion.

I apolocheese with the cliffhanger but it had to be done with this chapter LOL

also OOOOOO A LITTLE STEAMY CHAPTER... who am I??

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta @suzysface @reidsworld @xmaykeca @dontlookatme121 @mandaloriankait @picketniffler @pedrofan @mystickittytaco @enchantingchildkitten @seven-seas-of-fuck-you @ro-nahime-things @senhoritamayblog @hermionelove @ashhlsstuff @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @youusunshineyoutemptress @klajmekkk @aomi-nabi @churchofjoemiller @pascalitobarnes @ccmoonshine @its-different-for-girls66

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dansroo · 6 months ago

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Don't get angry with him, he was patient enough. :(

content; Jayce Talis x reader. nsfw. blowjob under a desk. male! reader. needy! jayce. light overstimulation. mention of body fluids. established relationship. Jayce loving everything about you. you are not in a public place as such, but it is not the right place to do that kind of stuff. word count: 985 (I got confused and I had put the wrong number at the beginning, my apologies)

a/n; he's so stupid, I love him, ugh. english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammatical error !

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

You swallowed saliva with difficulty, unable to avoid letting out a trembling gasp as you tried to maintain your sanity and continue working with what you had in front of you. But you reached a point where what you were supposed to do had been lost along with the rest of the coherent thoughts that resided in your now blurred mind. The tool you held in your hand slipped, making a loud — sharp noise upon contact with the surface of the desk.

You bit the back of your hand in a failed attempt to muffle your moans. For God's sake, you could hear the lustful sounds that Jayce's mouth made while eating you under the desk.

The plans and annotations in front of you began to become less readable; you were fighting against the impulse to succumb. You couldn't let him get away with it and give him, on a golden platter, what he wanted.

His big hands wrapped almost completely around your thighs while his face was buried between them, taking you completely at a desperate rhythm. He knew that this was the least suitable time and place to do something like that, but he was starved; he needed you, and he was sure you would understand, right?

You felt a chill invading your whole body, along with a wave of pleasure that wrapped your stomach. Your legs felt weak, and you had the desire to grind your hips against his pretty face. You whined, clinging with one of your hands to the edge of the desk.

It wasn't his fault, of course not. No one ask you to look so good while you were working.

“No distractions, got it.”

Well, it could probably be just a little his fault.

But he truly made every effort to listen to you, to be attentive to every word you said, but he couldn't help it. Not with you looking so handsome in front of him. All he could focus on was the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way you bit your lip in thought, the way you had your sleeves rolled up and your hair was slightly tousled. The smudge of grease on your face, he find it strangely endearing. You were so invested in your work, so dedicated and passionate. It was... kind of hot.

God, he really loves you so much.

He lost count of all the times he moved around the room, trying to distract himself with anything other than you. Swallowing nervously, waited for you to realize what he wanted — that he wanted you — but that was impossible. You weren't paying attention to him, and he didn't dare tell you anything because he was embarrassed enough to open his mouth — but not enough to get between your legs. You made him feel like a damn teenager in love, and he had to admit that deep down, he liked it.

A moan choked at the back of your throat, eyes rolling back as your fingers tangled in your hair, combing it back. You sighed tremulously, feeling your hips contract with the effort you were making for not to cum. You almost did when Jayce pushed your length all the way down his throat, with a hand gripping you firmly by the waist. He knew what he was doing.

“S-Shit!” you whimper loudly, unintentionally throwing the objects near you to the floor with your arms. You couldn't see him, but you knew he was smiling right now.

He really tried to push those thoughts away, but they just kept creeping back into his mind. He tried to focus on his own work, but his mind kept wandering back to you. You caught his gaze a few times, giving him a quizzical look, but he quickly glanced away; pretending to be focused on the tool he was holding. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and he knew he was probably blushing like an idiot.

He found himself stealing glances at you whenever he thought you weren't looking. Every so often, he'd catch a flash of that beautiful smile, and it would make his heart flutter all over again. He watched the way your fingers moved with such practiced precision — oh your beautiful hands, he couldn't wait to feel them on every corner of his body; just like your magnificent and pretty fingers, which were not only agile to create things.

You two had been working for hours and he had kept his patience as much as he could, but he couldn't keep waiting. You wouldn't blame him, would you?

“Jayce…”

“Mhm?”

The vibration of his throat caused you an involuntary moan. You cursed in low, tilting your head lower, peeking between the edge of the desk and your body to look at him kneeling in front of you. Your cock was still between his lips, with a mixture of his saliva and your fluids dripping from the corners. He looked at you attentively, with dilated pupils, observing your face. His hair was a mess, but it still looked cute as always.

“Stop, this… this is not the-!” He stopped you, sucking your tip and stealing a hoarse moan in the process. You bit your lip, watching his pretty mouth move up and down for your entire length. It was much better to see it than just to feel it.

You rested your back against the chair, bringing your hand to his hair; where your fingers tangled between his brown locks. Your legs opened more for him, being the only sign he needed to realize that he had obtained what he wanted.

He didn't take his eyes off you for the rest of the night; he wanted to make sure he remembered this moment well, capturing every expression on your face and the sound of your voice.

And don’t worry, you will make sure to collect your debt later.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #gay #mlm #muh luh muh #x male reader #jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis x male reader #jayce x male reader #jayce x reader #arcane season 2 #i need him #hi again

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box-writing · 2 months ago

Text

Choose your suito— I mean tutor!

⇥ summary— In a university library, two famous scholars stood among towering stacks of old books, each clenching a notepad filled with their meticulously crafted tutoring plans. Both were drawn by their admiration for a brilliant student who was struggling in their philosophy course, and each was determined to win their affection by helping [Name] excel. ⇥ contains— Dr. Ratio x gn! reader x Anaxagoras, 3rd POV, fluff, crack fic, crossover, modern-ish au??, college au, probably ooc, love triangle turned to love square, Al Haitham x reader at the end??👀 ⇥ a/n—English is not my first language. Apologies in advance for any grammatical errors. This is probably the longest fic I have written. Thank you, @yxzikari, for giving me yummy ideas along the way.

In a university library, two famous scholars stood among towering stacks of old books, each clenching a notepad filled with their meticulously crafted tutoring plans. Both were drawn by their admiration for a brilliant student who was struggling in their philosophy course, and each was determined to win their affection by helping [Name] excel. However, their growing rivalry quickly transformed the library into a battleground of ideas, as Veritas passionately argued the merits of his expertise in metaphysical theories, while Anaxagoras countered with claims of his unique teaching style.

“I find myself most exquisitely positioned to be [Name]’s suito–ahem, mentor.. My teachings are far superior than yours.”

“Have you been graced by the divine, such that you might utter these baseless words?”

As the intensity of their debate escalated, their voices grew louder, echoing through the quiet library, drawing the attention of several onlookers. In the middle of the two scholars, [Name] sat hunched over the books that were given by Ratio and Anaxa, rubbing their temples in both frustration and embarrassment.

Both of you are giving me a headache! [Name] groaned, gripping their head as each raised voice felt like a hammer against the skull, as the noise of competing philosophies blurred into an unintelligible jumble.

[Name] glanced up, eyes narrowed, wishing for a moment of peace to focus on reviewing for their final exam. With a loud sigh, [Name] decided to intervene. They stood up, arms crossed, and called out to them, their voice cutting through the argument.

"Could you two please keep it down? I appreciate that you both are willing to help me with my upcoming exam, but I need to study, and your arguments are giving me a headache!" A hush fell over the library as both scholars exchanged sheepish glances, suddenly aware of how their rivalry had spiraled out of control. Realizing that they had inadvertently made the very person they wanted to impress uncomfortable, they quickly stopped their bickering.

Finally, as the two bickering scholars quieted down, [Name] sat down and focused on their study, until—

“[Name]? Are you there?” A familiar voice called out, breaking [name]’s temporary focus.

“Al Haitham, you're here!” [Name] smiled as they excitedly packed all their study materials and headed straight to the grey-haired man, not before thanking the two scholars who were previously tutoring them. “Thank you both for letting me borrow your textbooks, I appreciate it!”

The two can only watch as their [Name] walks to the grey-haired man, quetly muttering something that you cannot quite hear.

Al Haitham gives [Name] a nod as he takes their backpack off their shoulders, “Do you need tutoring? I heard you're having a hard time.”

“Yes, please! I can't seem to process this topic for me.”

As the two of you headed to the exit, you didn't notice how Al Haitham looked back at the two scholars, a smug look on his face. Mouthing something that seemed to anger the two scholars.

“I win.”

wc— 522.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #dr ratio x reader #hsr dr ratio #hsr anaxa #anaxa x reader #anaxa hsr #hsr anaxagoras #al haitam x reader #alhaitham #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham x reader

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l13 · 2 years ago

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hi! think you're gonna write for Toji? 👉👈

absolutely<33

cw: NSFW 18+, MDNI, f!reader, no use of y/n, age gap, unprotected piv sex, creampie, fingering, oral sex f!receiving, swearing, reader wears make up, lazy & filthy writing

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any misspells, errors or grammatically incorrect sentences.

been thinking a lot about dbf!toji lately,

Toji has you pressed against the counter, his chest flush against your back, “Dirty fuckin' girl, feelin' me up when your dad was right there.. Y'wanted to get caught, is that it?...” one hand squeezes and palms at your tits while the other holds your jaw, turning your head to the side, so he can plant a kiss on your parted lips. His eyes glint when you whimper as he pulls back from you, his thumb running over your lips messily.

“Couldn't help myself, Toji.. Want you all the time, can't think of anything else.” he groans at that, dropping his head to nuzzle his nose against your hair, “Don't say shit like that, or I won't be able to hold myself back, honey..” he grinds himself against you, his eyes dropping to watch you push your ass back to him,

“Don't want you to..”

He curses under his breath as he lays a sharp slap on your bum, taking a step away from you right after, “Bend over, ass up.” you immediately do as he says, bracing yourself on your forearms as you arch your back for him, giving him the perfect view of your panty clad pussy,

He bites back a grin as he kneads your ass under your skirt, his thumb running over your covered folds, “Yeah... just like that,”

It's not long before he has his pants and briefs bunched up at his ankles. He brings his hand up to his mouth to lick his ring and middle finger, and then he's holding your panties to the side, nudging your folds with his fingers before he's pushing them inside of you, moaning when your juices flow down his palm. “So fucking messy..”

You whimper and push your hips back against his hand, his palm meeting the swell of your ass in a lewd slap. He clicks his tongue, grabbing your hip to steady you, and resumes thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy, making sure to crook his fingers juust right, smirking when you clutch the counter top, a sweet moan escaping your lips.

Toji almost gets hypnotized by the way his fingers get lost in your cunt, his mouth watering at the sight, and he sighs when he feels you squeeze around them. The hold on your hip softens, and his hand falls to his cock, jerking it in sync with his fingers, up and down, in and out.

He glances up at you, and grins when he sees how you stare wide-eyed at how he's stroking his cock slowly, gnawing at your lip. He seems to notice the uncertainty in your eyes because he chuckles, “Awh 's okay baby, you can take it f'r me right? You'll fucking take it c'mon..” he pulls his fingers out, smearing your wetness all over the head of his cock, and then grabs it by the base, tapping the tip over your folds two times for good measure. He's flicking your flowy skirt up, not wanting it to obscure his view, before he's pushing himself inside your pussy.

You immediately clench around the head of his cock, and he hisses lowly, pushing you flush against the counter with a hand on the arch of your back. You whimper, your cheek smushed against the cold surface, “Wait- fuck. Toji, it's too much-”

He clicks his tongue, his hand gliding up your back to hold the curve that connects your neck to your shoulder, slowly pulling you back into him, his cock sinking an inch deeper, “You asked for it- Christ- practically begged for it, and now it's too much? Don't be a brat, you've taken my cock before-”

He coos, “Be good for me, and I swear I'll fuck you so good, baby, promise,” you whimper but nod nonetheless, head dropping in between your arms, feeling Toji push his cock inside you deeper, and fuck, you can feel the veins on the sides of his cock rub against your gummy walls-

He shudders when he buries himself to the hilt- and he stays there, grinding his hips up, huffing out a chuckle when you mewl, “Theere we go.. see? Wasn't so hard, was it?” the hand on your hip travels lower to nudge your ass cheek to the side, and he groans when he sees your pussy practically sucking him in when he pulls out slowly, “Oh God, baby.. this pussy's too fuckin' good t'me.. you're perfect,”

You moan, lifting your head to look at him over your shoulder, “It's all yours baby,”

He snarls, pulling you back against his cock hard, and your mouth drops open in a silent scream when he starts slamming his hips into you in an unforgiving pace, the fluttering of your walls around his cock making him groan deeply, his vision blurring for a second, “Fuck- my good girl, mine- say it.”

“Mhhyes 'm fucking yours,”

“Say. it.”

“M your slut!! Only yours- shit,”

Toji laughs breathlessly, “That's not what I said baby... Has your head gone all dumb, huh? You wanna be my slut?”

“Ye-esss pleaseplease, wan' it so bad,”

You suddenly claw at the hand that's holding your hip, and the rolls of his hips falter as he glances down at you, “What's wrong? Do you want to stop-” you shake your head quickly, “Don't you dare stop.” you pant as you nudge his hand again with your fingers, and he finally gets it, “You wanna hold my hand, baby?” you nod then, your eyes hazy, and sooo cockdrunk, that it makes his cock twitch. (you respond by tightening your pussy, hiding your grin with your hand when his breath hitches)

Toji's eyes roll back when he laces your fingers together, “Fuck.” and it's as if a switch flipped in Toji's mind because he's suddenly fucking into you with a newfound vigor. He's pushing his hips into you with reckless abandon, huffing out moans of his own “Ah shit- you're gonna make me cum, baby.. Been hard for you all fuckin' day,”

Your eyes tear up at how good he's fucking you, your words coming out paired with uncontrollable moans “Cum in me, fucking do it inside, Toji, please-"

Toji grabs you by your arms, pulling your back against his chest as he continues pounding in you, and you nearly scream from the way his cock sinks deeper in your pussy from this position. He's thrusting up this time, kissing your cervix over and over and over.

He makes sure to drop his hand over your own, clutching it tightly as he keeps driving his cock in and out of your drenched pussy, and you push your ass back on his cock involuntarily, and he's fucking gone, “Shit-I'm cumming-”

You moan appreciatively when you feel his warm cum fill your pussy to the brim, and he's still thrusting his hips, pushing himself deeper, harder against you “Take it, fucking take it baby-h my God” Toji's thighs shake as he slows the rolls of his hips, and he's moaning lowly, shooting the last of his cum deep inside your cunt.

You shudder when he pulls himself out, trying hard to catch his breath, and you gasp as he turns you around, dropping to his knees a second later. He grabs your thighs and situates them over his shoulder, grunting when he bends his head down to lap at your pussy like a man starved.

You grab onto his hair immediately as you squirm, throwing your head back to moan at the ceiling. “Yesyesyes, please-”

He taps your thigh and brings his hand up, palm outstretched, just as you glance down at him. You clutch his hand, and your heart flutters when he laces your fingers together once again. Toji stops his ministrations to lay a kiss on your knuckles, and you almost cry from the softness of it.

After that, nothing breaks his focus as he continues eating you out, his nose nudging your clit every time you roll your hips against his mouth, and you writhe, “Baby, please-” and he knew exactly what you needed because he brings his thumb up to the swollen bud, rubbing circles on it expertly, his mouth kissing and sucking at your folds, lapping at whatever you give him.

It's only when he pushes his tongue inside and curls it up that you cum. You shake and squirm and moan so loud that you're sure the neighbors would have heard. He doesn't stop rubbing your clit as you orgasm. In fact, he drums the rest of his fingers on it relentlessly, not stopping even when you're crying out, tears messing up your pretty make up. He pulls his mouth from you with a lewd pop, and he's panting- chin drenched with you and him combined.

He can't help himself when he bends down to give your pussy one, two more kisses. You squirm again, and he chuckles, laying a soft slap on your thigh. “Good?” he asks,

You grin down at him, expression totally fucked out, and bring your arm up, throwing it over your face as you hide your mascara stained cheeks from his eyes, “Good.”

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

#•ूᡣ𐭩 — toji #•ूᡣ𐭩 — anime #•ूᡣ𐭩 — jjk #anon.<3 #toji brainrot #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #dbf!toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji jjk #toji fushiguro smut #fushiguro toji smut

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hyunjinners · 9 months ago

Text

✧:･ﾟ Stray Kids react → you declaring yourself to them ˚₊· ꒰🌿꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊ members' reaction when you declare yourself to them.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊ot8¡ x non/idol!fem¡reader

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊cute, comfort, friends to lovers.

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊none, just cute stray kids stuff.

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊4,1k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊I'm really addicted to writing skz compilations ;) In some parts the reader is not an idol, I ended up getting excited and forgot about the plot haha remembering that English is not my first language! I apologize in advance if there are any spelling and/or grammatical errors. Enjoy reading - feedback is appreciated. ^-^

⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist❜ɞ

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ You became trainees at the same time and that's when you met and got closer.

・✦ He would sneak food in for you, given the strict diet the company forced you to follow, and you couldn't be more grateful to him.

・✦ the care and zeal he has for you captivated you and strengthened your relationship even after both of your debuts.

・✦ You debuted solo and he couldn't be more proud, always supporting you even when he was busy with the group's busy schedule.

・✦ Some time after your great success as a solo artist, some acquaintances from high school attacked you on social media, creating a situation claiming that you were bullying some of them.

・✦ You got really upset with all the hate and false claims and it all got worse when the company forced you to go on hiatus.

・✦ Chan, being the cutest and most understanding person you knew, was by your side comforting you and whispering comforting words in your ear while wrapping you in a hug.

・✦ Perhaps because of the heat of the moment or adrenaline, you unconsciously let out the three most comforting and perhaps feared words for many people.

・✦ He was in shock for a few seconds and his breathing hitched when he felt the caress he was giving his head stop.

・✦ He pushed you away and looked into your eyes to see if he had heard correctly, still in disbelief about the words he had previously said and even more shocked about his future ones.

・✦ "I have always loved you. I can't hide my feelings that I have felt for so long. You have always been by my side and I never had the opportunity to be clear with you, so… thank you. For supporting me and for everything you've done for me in general."

・✦ After his sincerity it was her turn to be shocked when she felt his soft lips join hers.

・✦ he loved you too.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ... 𖥔

・✦ You are childhood best friends where you have established an intimate and somewhat fun relationship. You have always teased each other a little but clearly with affection - even if it doesn't seem like it.

・✦ You debuted a year after him, following him closely and both supporting each other in moments of so much pressure.

・✦ It all happened when you were backstage at the first Stray Kids awards. You were in the front row to see up close the achievement of the boys who were still so young and evolving so quickly.

・✦ When it was all over, you didn't even wait for him to move away from the boys to jump into his arms. He held you, a sweet laugh escaping his lips at the feeling of ecstasy and happiness.

・✦ you hugged him tightly and pulled away, looking at him with a sincere smile and a loving sparkle in your eyes, your heart almost jumping out of your chest with pride.

・✦ "I'm so proud of you I could kiss you!" He looked at you in shock, a playful smile on his lips. "What did you say?" "Minho, just-" he came dangerously close and whispered close to her face, his warm breath making her stomach feel strange. "You can."

・✦ Adrenaline took over you and before you knew it you were kissing your childhood best friend deeply and passionately.

・✦ You didn't know what your relationship would be like from now on, but you were sure it was worth a try.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ You met through your parents who had a professional partnership that sparked a friendship, consequently causing Changbin and you to get together.

・✦ You are two years younger than him, so when you both decided to become idols together, he ended up entering first - at your parents' request.

・✦ You were from different companies, but that didn't divide you, in fact it helped to avoid future possible rumors.

・✦ you would constantly visit each other in the dorms for movie nights or go out really late, going to the nearest convenience store to try different flavors of ramen while telling each other about their day.

・✦ you constantly helped each other with health issues, always asking each other about food and if they were keeping up with an exercise routine, where he convinced her to train with him and he wouldn't accept any other answer than yes.

・✦ But the time you enjoyed spending together the most was during your free time, when you could visit your parents together.

・✦ On one of those occasions, you were responsible for taking care of your younger sister while your parents were away and he accepted the task along with you.

・✦ She is small but very energetic, so it was a somewhat complicated task. Changbin had a way with kids, so he had some super cute moments with her, making you wonder if your sister liked you or him more.

・✦ You were cutting fruit on the kitchen counter while watching Changbin play with the girl.

・✦ Smiling, you take the bowls of fruit into the living room as you sit down next to them. You let out a laugh when you see your sister snort at having to move away from Changbin to eat.

・✦ "You have a way with kids. I think you'll be a good father." You whisper softly next to Changbin, who almost choked on the comment. He looks at you perplexed with an unconscious smile on his face.

・✦ "do you think? I mean, I really like kids, so…" He looks dreamily at his sister and you can't ignore the butterflies in your stomach that insist on appearing whenever you're around him.

・✦ "I'm sure your future wife will be very lucky. You are handsome, affectionate, intelligent, funny... I bet she'll love it so much." You laugh, biting into your fruit, not realizing the effect you had on Changbin.

・✦ "What- what did you say?" You're both silent for a while as you ponder your response. Sighing, you slowly observe his reaction, "Honestly?... I would like to be that future wife. I like you, Changbin. I don't think I was lying when I said I would love you very much." He coughs, choking on a piece of apple. You despair, helping him to choke. With wide eyes in surprise, he holds your shoulders and looks you straight in the eyes.

・✦ "You're kidding, aren't you?"

・✦ "... No, I'm not, Changbin. I really like you." He leaned over and wrapped her in a hug, his sister just staring blankly.

・✦ He also dreams of having children with you.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ you meet when you bump into each other at a cafe near his company.

・✦ He had just debuted as an idol, so he wasn't that well-known on the street yet, but you recognized him.

・✦ You were the first person who recognized him and he was very happy that the first fan who recognized him was a girl as beautiful as you.

・✦ It turned out that you often showed up at this cafe to study to get into college and he ended up becoming friends with you.

・✦ he felt like you were an angel sent by destiny to be his lifeline, supporting him in everything he did and always giving the best advice for his own good, as well as being present in both the happiest and most difficult moments of his life.

・✦ he didn't know how to express his enormous gratitude, so he just reciprocated the actions by being with you in the time of pressure before and during college, celebrating your entry with you and always taking you out to distract your mind whenever he could.

��✦ and things changed between you during one of these walks. There was a flower festival that happened once a year that you were extremely excited to go to. You planned the trip for weeks and he couldn't say no.

・✦ The festival went on from afternoon to night, so you were able to watch the sunset together amidst the lilies he insisted on giving you as a gift.

・✦ you rested your head on his shoulder as you sat on a wooden bench in a place that allowed a beautiful view of the horizon.

・✦ "I wish time would stop right here, I wish I could stay with you like this forever." Hyunjin felt his ears heat up, petting his hair in response. "Me too. It was an amazing day, yes."

・✦ you stared at him deeply and he looked back, trying to read your expression. Immersed in desire and passion, you hold the back of his neck, leaning in for a soft kiss, your lips barely touching as you touch him.

・✦ perplexed, he widened his eyes, still a little scared, but returning the kiss in a more intense way, his hands unconsciously going towards her waist.

・✦ pulling away with your lips parted from the lack of air, you rest your forehead against his, a happy laugh leaving your lips.

・✦ "I'm glad you didn't push me" Still a little disoriented, Hyunjin laughs at your silly comment, longing for more of your lips on his.

・✦ "never." He leans in again, captivating her lips affectionately.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 ... 𖥔

・✦ the way they met was actually a bit chaotic. You were running through the company's corridors, late again for another rehearsal, when you bumped into Jisung, spilling the coffee he had in his hands all over herself.

・✦ He became desperate, apologizing as if it was all his fault for not looking forward. In the midst of despair, you could only laugh and without understanding anything he accompanied you laughing, even though he had a desperate look on his face, thinking you wanted to kill him.

・✦ The following week he came to you with a new sweatshirt in hand and you were enchanted by how sweet and thoughtful he was. In return, you bought the coffee that spilled from his hands with a cute note apologizing and thanking him for the sweatshirt.

・✦ After that, your friendship began with the ritual of buying each other coffee with a cute note asking about their day or a motivational phrase.

・✦ During a Stray Kids performance, you were in the front row happily cheering for the group's next achievement. When the performance was over, you gave them a standing ovation and didn't miss the wink Jisung threw your way, making you smile.

・✦ Three days later you were surprised when the media linked Jisung to you, making thousands of theories about both of you being together. You were heavily criticized and received a lot of hate from people who claimed to be "stays", causing you to step away for a short period of time.

・✦ a week later, Jisung was in front of your apartment and when you realized it you were already crying in his arms on the couch in your apartment.

・✦ he kisses the top of your head, speaking comforting words into your ear. You sighed tiredly, stood up and wiped your tears, staring at him for a few seconds before speaking.

・✦ "... I just don't understand." Her voice was almost a whisper and he listened intently to every word that came out of her mouth. "Would it be so bad if we were dating? What have I done to these people?" You bring your hands to your eyes, sobbing once more. He wraps his arms around her again, resting his chin on her head.

・✦ "They don't understand. And don't worry, it's not like we have anything to hide."

・✦ "what if we did?" You whispered, your words hanging in the air as he made a confused face. "What do you mean?"

・✦ "Would it be so bad if we were in a relationship? What if I wanted that?" You gather your courage and face him defiantly.

・✦ "... what-"

・✦ "I like you, Jisung. I don't care what anyone says, what bothers me is that you're so oblivious to it. I want you. I need you."

・✦ He looks at her scared, immersed in his thoughts. It doesn’t last long until he smiles and leans in to kiss you deeply, wanting this for so long his bones could ache.

・✦ He didn't see a problem with that either.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 ... 𖥔

・✦ You were the first person to greet him at school when he moved to Korea.

・✦ He was in a confusing phase for himself, still discovering his passions and talents and you were the only one who understood him and waited for him in his time, always being by his side in difficulties.

・✦ People compared you to a ray of sunshine, but for him, you were the light that provided a way out in his darkest moments.

・✦ As time went by, he debuted as an idol and you followed the career you wanted, becoming an interior designer specializing in landscaping.

・✦ You loved everything related to nature and he was no different, loving to travel to places with the best views, always remembering you in the most memorable memories for him.

・✦ During the boys' comeback, Felix was working hard day and night, always bringing out the best in his performances and never letting anything down.

・✦ one of his shows was cancelled due to problems at the venue where they were going to perform and after weeks of tiredness he would finally have at least one day off.

・✦ Taking advantage of the opportunity, you invited him to go to the beach, since you both loved it and hadn't gone out for a long time due to your busy schedule.

・✦ the ride was fun from start to finish and you were hyperventilating over little things like you sharing headphones during the car ride or how he was concerned about whether you were staying hydrated and wearing sunscreen.

・✦ After a whole day of playing in the water, you sat side by side to watch the sunset. Your shoulders were touching and you didn't miss the way your hands were so close, yet still untouchable.

・✦ you watched as the bright orange hue reflected off the blond strands of Felix's hair, looking peaceful as if the breeze took away all his worries and tensions.

・✦ "You're beautiful." His voice came out as a whisper and you knew you couldn't stop talking from now on, "I feel more relaxed when I'm with you. I don't think I need to come to the beach all the time if I already have my daily ray of sunshine."

・✦ Felix looks at her with a genuine smile and you could see the affection through his irises. "Thank you for bringing me here, Y/n. Thank you for everything really." With a smile you slowly lean in and Felix could only close his eyes. Gently your lips connected and you could still feel the mixture of your sweet lips with the salty sea water. He still a little hesitantly holds her waist, bringing her almost impossibly closer.

・✦ moving away but still close to his face, you spoke softly, like a secret now revealed, "I love you. I always have. I'm in love with you and I'm sure it's because you're the easiest person to love."

・✦ Surprised and excited, Felix places a kiss on her cheek and then rests his head on her shoulder.

・✦ "It would be impossible for me not to reciprocate the feelings."

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ the way they met was too cute and Seungmin would never confess - even if you commented on it.

・✦ Even in his pre-debut, Seungmin has always been the schematic and methodical type. He had a routine of going to the gym three times a week at a specific time and, coincidentally, he passed by the same square where you used to sit to read a book.

・✦ At first he just ignored you there, but after strangely noticing your long hair, or the cute way you wrinkled your nose when you read something that caught his attention, or when he randomly closed the book to "absorb" what was written there, he thought that maybe it would be interesting to know more about you.

・✦ He was never the intellectual reading type, but he thought that to impress a female reader, it would be good to have a little literary knowledge. When buying a book in a bookstore near the square, he discovered that his parents owned the establishment, and he was overcome with excitement.

・✦ He started to constantly visit the place to see you and in the end it was you who started talking to him and that's where your friendship began.

・✦ Even after his debut you remained firm and strong by his side, even though he couldn't often attend your little reading sessions where you read in silence just enjoying each other's company.

・✦ Over time, Stray Kids became increasingly popular, not only in Korea, but in many places around the world. That said, the group's first world tour was approaching and everyone was nervous. Seungmin became more and more distant as the week progressed as it was time to prepare for his world debut.

・✦ the day before the trip, you showed up at the door of his and the boys' dorm, sending a message as soon as you got there. He replied a few minutes later, saying he would be late at the company.

・✦ You were very frustrated because you didn't know if you would be able to say goodbye to him, since six months away without being able to see Seungmin was a long time for both of you. You leave the book you were going to give Seungmin as a gift at the dorm door, leaving immediately.

・✦ a little after midnight, you hear your phone vibrate on the nightstand, seungmin’s name flashing on the screen. You answer, completely concerned as to why he's calling so late.

・✦ He asks you to answer the door and without further contradiction you practically run to open the door.

・✦ Still sleepy, you almost fall with the impact of the hug that Seungmin gives you. He wraps his arms around you in an almost desperate way, wishing he couldn't let go of you anymore.

・✦ “Is it true? Did you really mean that?”

・✦ completely confused, your mind seems to want to play a trick on you, making you forget the moment that happened earlier, where you left the book with a dedication to Seungmin inside.

・✦ he breaks the hug, showing the book that had been in his hands all this time. 'Welcome to Hyunam-dong Bookstore' was no longer in its original gift packaging, a yellow post-it was stuck to the inside of the cover, which said: “I hope you enjoy this reading as much as I enjoyed the moments I had with you. I love you, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy you.”

・✦ your eyes widened in utter surprise. You thought you might not be able to say goodbye to him in person, So he wrote this note in the heat of the moment, almost afraid that this trip might separate you two.

・✦ “Minnie… I’m sorry. This may sound wrong, but… I really like you. Ever since I met you… s-since forever, I think…”

・✦ His words are a bit disjointed and low, but the only reaction Seungmin had was to gently hold his face and do what he had always wanted since that day in the square: kiss her without guilt or resentment.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ JYP was not an unfamiliar environment for you. Your older sister, a third-generation K-pop idol, often invited you to watch her train.

・✦ The JYP halls were a familiar environment for you and this gave you the opportunity to meet many famous people. And Jeongin was one of them.

・✦ At first, you would just exchange a few nods or a quick “good morning.” However, one day when you had to wait patiently for your sister in the cafeteria area, Jeongin saw you sitting alone.

・✦ He was surprised at himself, since he had promised himself not to make friends during his trainee days, due to the fact that people came and went easily. But you had a different aura to him.

・✦ time passed, he debuted and you stayed with him. Jeongin didn't regret talking to you that day, because from then on you were the one who supported him through the most difficult moments during the beginning of his career.

・✦ You saw Jeongin as an escape from all the problems of your day to day life. No matter the situation, just seeing his face, with that cute dimpled smile, the tension in your body would go away.

・✦ Spending time with him was comfortable and became incredibly familiar. You became an important part of Jeongin's life, and vice versa. The boys were happy to know that there was someone to brighten their youngest member's darkest days.

・✦ After a few years of friendship, the Stray Kids dorm had become an almost routine environment for you. One Friday, Jeongin invited you to join the boys' movie night.

・✦ You quickly got ready, stopping by the convenience store before walking to the dorms since it wasn't that far from your house.

・✦ you felt your cell phone vibrate as you walked down the sidewalk with some very full bags in your hand. You tried to get the cell phone out of your pocket, However, because of the piled up bags, he ended up falling on the sidewalk.

・✦ Without thinking twice, you quickly bent down to pick it up, not noticing the electric bike that was quickly coming towards you. It all happened so fast that you could say it was like a quick dream (or nightmare), like the kind you have when you take a short nap.

・✦ you were thrown away and the bike ended up running over your ankle, dislocating it. You ended up passing out from the pain on your way to the hospital, in the ambulance that the cyclist called to help you.

・✦ You woke up a few hours later, the light reflecting off the white walls of the hospital room hitting your eyes hard, making you squint.

・✦ you felt soft threads near your hand, and as soon as you regained some consciousness, you realized that Jeongin was lying next to you in a completely uncomfortable position. It didn't take him long to wake up, looking a little desperate as he did so.

・✦ “thank god! I- I thought… Y/n…”

・✦ Jeongin's eyes filled with tears and the words were a little stuck in his throat. “If I hadn't called you at that time, none of this would have happened... a man ended up answering his phone and told me what had happened. Forgive me, S/n.”

・✦ his words were still a little distorted because of the effect of the drug, where you were barely assimilating what was happening.

・✦ With a smile, you wipe Jeongin's tears gently. “I was so scared… scared of losing you. It could have happened because of a bike, but it could have been worse-”

・✦ “Don't do that. If you keep crying because of me, it'll make me fall in love with you even more.”

・✦ Jeongin was paralyzed by his slurred, barely audible words. He whispered a “what?” under his breath, his heart racing with even more disconcerting thoughts.

・✦ He stayed in the same position for a few seconds, long enough to make you fall back asleep. He kissed your forehead affectionately as he pulled away..

・✦ “I hope you remember your words when you wake up.”

656 notes · View notes

lilbunnis · 2 years ago

Text

❛ ♡. header credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲. ❜

★ ⎯⎯ aemond targaryen has always wanted someone as his own; and with him already having claimed his vicious mount vhagar, the queen of dragons herself--- what is there to stop him from claiming you, too?

author’s note᛬ heey! 🍓 so……this is my second time posting this particular story--- however, it was a long time ago & someone anonymously requested to read it again. happily, i offered to repost it for them (with the exception that i re-edit it since my style of writing has changed / improved!) … anyways, reblogs & comments are deeply appreciated. ♡ + both aemond & reader are equally unhinged. <3 mwuah !

warnings᛬ mdni! smut, dubcon [kind of… but trust me, it’s wanted], dark!aemond, profanity, she/her pronouns, afab reader, innocence kink, corruption kink, coercion, manipulation, pussy whipped!aemond, breeding kink, cunnilingus, fingering, obsessive & possessive behavior, pet names, romance, fluff. any grammatical errors are my own--- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

word count᛬ 2.5k

𝐎𝐇, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼, 𝐈’𝐃 𝐃𝐎 𝑨𝑵𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮.

aemond targaryen has always thought of her as his--- his to protect, his to care for, his to love; ever since he’d met her, he surrounded himself in her feminine presence, around her sweetness and innocence, keeping her close by and never letting her trail very far out of his sight.

unless, of course, it was absolutely necessary, and even then, he’d have one of his most trustworthy guards (loyal only to him) follow her around all day--- discreetly, of course.

however, during their short time apart, the one-eyed prince would be on constant edge; irritable and in a foul mood throughout the time that they were apart, not being able to trust anyone to truly protect his lady the way he knew he could.

oh, how he missed his dearly beloved so--- so much so, that the wayward prince was known for his brutal lashings and merciless beheadings (all a gift to his love) to all of those who merely breathed the wrong way in his proximity.

or simply, sweet gifts of pretty, sparkling sapphires and pearls.

still, he knew that she thought his temper and rage was charming, as she had once told him in that sweet, gentle little voice of hers, soothing his fiery temper as if she were the maiden reborn.

like his own little angel, so delicate, tender-hearted and mine, aemond thought.

sometimes, most of the time, aemond would just simply gaze at her, at her beauty, longingly; like she was the center of the universe and held all of the twinkling stars in the night sky.

most people wouldn’t dare to believe such a thing, but aemond thought it was cute when she learned something new in philosophy, excitedly wanting to share the new knowledge she’d learned from her septa with him--- even if he already knew, just to be able to listen to her sweet, angelic voice.

oh, and on those simple days, content to just listen to her babbling on about whichever subject she deemed of interest; he would lovingly hand feed her fresh strawberries, one by one; the ripest, juiciest and sweetest ones, listening as she breathily moaned in content as each one entered her pouty mouth.

meanwhile, as his little darling continued on about whichever subject interested her at the moment; the one-eyed prince watched in delight as the red juices dribbled down her chin, allowing him to quickly swoop in and kiss it delicately away, causing him to hum in content at the sweet taste.

whether it be from the strawberries themselves or the sweet taste of her skin, it mattered not to the prince--- because the next moment, he would drop to his knees and feast on her delicious, drooling cunt; burying himself right beneath her fluffy skirts as he heard her girlishly moan and whimper for him, as he continued enjoying the taste of her maidenhood.

on lazy days, the prince will sit with her in his lap, one of his strong, lean arms wrapped snugly around her waist, most protectively; meanwhile, his free hand would slip beneath her fluffy skirts and play with her virgin, soaking cunt, teasingly stroking his long, calloused fingers through her wet, puffy folds.

seven above, and the sounds of her soft, breathy little moans, almost luring him to bend her right over the wooden table in the back of the library and rut into her like some wild, depraved beast, claiming her maidenhead as his.

‘twas almost too much to bear for the prince, knowing she was already his in body, mind, heart and soul.

he always imagined what she must taste like that day, right before he would feast on her cunny, almost to tease himself--- like freshly baked sweet tarts, spoonfuls of honey, strawberries…

late at night, while in the privacy of his own chambers, he’d furiously fuck his fist to the thought of burying his face between her smooth thighs once again, wanting nothing more than to taste and fuck her cunt with his tongue greedily; before he’d come so fucking hard in his hand, his seed coating the skin of his taut abdomen and dripping down his fingers--- sticky and messy and entirely spent.

sighing heavily, aemond would barely resist the temptation to exit his chambers and go straight to hers, knowing she’d welcome him with an open heart and open legs.

…fuck, what a waste of his seed, he thinks, for he could’ve pumped her empty womb full of his seed; fuck load after load inside of her, and come by morning, she would already be carrying his son in her belly.

rightfully so; she’s be so beautiful, so fragile, so obedient, a perfect little wife she’d be for him, indeed.

meanwhile, back in the library, aemond would continue teasing her little cunny, occasionally dipping the very tips of his fingertips into her little virgin fuck-hole, feeling how fucking tight she was for him, causing him to harden almost painfully inside of his leather breeches, right below her squirming, little ass.

like his very own wanton, silk street whore.

she continued to moan and whimper repeatedly; making him gently shush her with delicate kisses across her neck, spreading her dripping arousal all around her swollen bud, hearing her mewl his name like a prayer and grip the polished library table forcibly, watching her blissed-out face until she came all over his fingers.

when he made her come so hard with just playing with her little bundle of nerves, he had to slap a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries of pleasure and whisper sweet praises into her ear, knowing how sensitive and needy she was in his arms, just after coming down from her peak and making her come so hard on his fingers.

of course, the more time he spent with her, the harder it was to resist her--- and so, most nights, when aemond could no longer resist being away from her; the need to see her being just too much for him to bear any longer, he’d eagerly seek her out, knowing she’d be in her chambers, awaiting his arrival.

just as eager and wanton as he was, it seemed.

smirking, aemond chuckled softly, embracing her; “my sweetest, my darling, my little love--- fuck, i have missed you.”

he couldn’t control himself anymore, he needed to see her, to be with her, to have her.

always.

specifically, in the late hours of the night, wanting to be as close to her as physically possible; fuck, he loved her so much, he didn’t ever want her to doubt his love for her--- he stripped them both of their evening clothes, his amethyst eye dilated and wild at the sight of her nude form.

during those private evenings, aemond had convinced her for him to claim her as his… fully, in the ways only a man could claim a woman.

with his persuasion, his silver tongue easily convinced her into saying yes; causing him to release a purr and claim her body multiple times that night, until she was a shaking, sobbing and sweaty mess beneath him, full of loads of his seed, while he held her tightly against him in his arms--- possessively.

uncaringly, the prince left all sorts of love marks all across her skin, kissing every inch of her soft, glistening skin that he could reach, suckling on her swollen, puffy nipples, knowing her plush breasts would soon grow heavy with milk for their many babes that’d come someday soon.

selfishly, just maybe; he could persuade his little darling for a taste for himself--- fucking hells, he couldn’t wait for her to grow round and fat with his sons!

insatiably, he would fuck his already hardening, leaking cock back inside of her sopping cunt, his and her own moans of pure love and ecstasy echoing off of the walls of her chambers.

however, even with all of the bliss and pleasure and love; still came her doubts and worries.

his sweet lady, his precious love, his only girl--- was utterly terrified of someone finding out about their affair.

however, the fearsome, bloodthirsty dragon prince would always reassure her; whispering sweet words of his love and devotion into her ears, calming her by kissing her love-marked skin before he would fuck her squelching cunt once again with his cock, ploughing into her mercilessly, filling her with another load of his seed, until tears would stream down her blushy cheeks.

unable to stop herself, she’d let out the most feminine moans for him, not being able to control her sweet mewls from escaping her kiss-swollen lips, sobbing out deliriously as he continuously fucked her ruthlessly, uncaring of who heard them; for the one-eyed prince was too addicted to the taste of her and the pretty, precious sounds she made just for him.

it wouldn’t matter anyway, if anyone were to find out about their love affair--- aemond genuinely honestly couldn’t give a fuck if someone were to tell her lord father that her maidenhead was claimed by him anyone.

if anyone would dare to question his lady’s virtue or purity, he would cut out their tongues, before mercilessly killing them and feed their mutilated corpse to his mighty beast, vhagar.

aemond had always been a possessive man, especially when it concerned his sweet little lady, to the point that most of the noble lords and ladies of the court started to take notice; however, the fearsome prince paid them little attention--- nowadays, his only concern in life was his darling little bride.

some days, when the weather was warm enough and the sun was shining brightly, aemond would take his lady on long walks around the red keep’s royal gardens, right after he finished his morning training session with ser criston.

as always, it was just the two of them, together; and while he watched her instead of admiring the pretty flowers that she seemed so smitten by, he couldn’t stop the tiny grin from spreading across his face at just the mere sight of her.

her, her, her.

his--- his lady, his woman, his wife.

there was a secret, hidden alcove surrounded by various cherry trees and gorgeous pink peonies, which aemond would often bring her to visit; it was almost as if it was their special spot.

then, without warning, aemond would gently press her back up against one of the trunks of the pretty, blossoming cherry trees, kissing her so sweetly, so passionately, so tenderly; it made her swoon and see constellations on the backs of her fluttering eyelids.

“marry me.”

suddenly, she felt as if her heart had suddenly stopped beating and she felt rather faint--- for a moment, her heart felt as if it had skipped several beats, because surely… her sweet aemond did not just ask the impossible of her?

again, aemond spoke.

“marry me,” he murmured against her soft, perfumed skin (that smelled of the lavender oils they’d previously bathed in that morning together) trailing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive neck, causing a breathy whimper to escape her pretty, pouty lips.

instantly, aemond’s ears had perked up to the sound of her breathing that was quickening, his large hands roaming and grasping at her sides as if to soothe her sudden panic, enjoying the feeling of her womanly curves against his big hands, even through the silk fabric of her pretty, sapphire colored dress.

“hmm…no,” she drawled lazily, though her sweet voice was teasing, “—my father is suspicious enough already about all of the rumors going on about us…he doesn't ask, of course; i’m afraid it’s because he is too frightened of you,” she giggled softly, batting her long eyelashes up at the handsome prince.

aemond smirked, amused by his little darling.

“besides,” she continued softly, her usual sweetened voice saddened and aemond watched as his lady’s heart was visibly breaking right before his own eye, “—my father… he will arrange a betrothal for me soon and i must do my duty, as is expected of me,” she whispered, while gently twirling a few strands of her lover’s long silvery hair around one of her fingers, her face sullen--- like a little girl having her favorite treat taken away from her.

aemond hummed; a soft, dangerous sound as his face remained stoic, not displaying a single emotion that he was currently feeling--- his natural-born eye on the other hand…was a raging storm of a dark, angry violet, screaming promises of fire and blood.

“that'll never happen,” aemond murmured softly, his voice a raspy baritone, completely unbothered, “—if your father even dares to try and take you away from me, he'll suffer a most painful death; i assure you, my sweet lady.”

her heart fluttered, both of her cheeks heating up and her head began to feel fuzzy, a dreamy expression forming on her pretty face; though she wasn’t sure if it was from the warm weather or by his loving, murderous words.

“you're so sweet,” she cooed dreamily, smiling up at him as she wrapped both of her arms around his neck loosely, her fingers gently brushing through more of his long silvery hair, feeling how silky-smooth the strands were--- curtsey of the queen, his darling mother; a sweet gift of scented oils she had gotten for her favorite son all the way from pentos.

“only for you, my beloved,” the prince promised, tenderly brushing his knuckles along one of her rosy cheeks, bending down towards her shorter height and capturing her rouge-stained lips in a sweet, deeply passionate kiss--- a deep, throaty sound of lust escaping from him.

ah, she tastes of the sweetest of innocence and strawberries.

his favorite.

‘twas as if the prince could never get enough of her taste, of her.

sweetly, she releases a little whine, high-pitched and so needy for him; the sweetness of a poisonous kiss--- oh, how he wants to love her forever and bathe in all of the glorious love she had to offer him.

gods, he loved her… only, only, only her.

“my angel, so soft and pure, so innocent; and your precious heart… it is mine,” he growled, deepening the kiss against her lips--- his large, warm and calloused hands began trailing down to cup her sweet, little ass through her skirts, bundling the silky, sapphire colored fabric in his greedy hands to fondle and squeeze the soft flesh of her asscheeks; pinching and clutching possessively.

grinning wolfishly, aemond trailed his open-mouthed kisses down her delicate neck, suckling freshly new love marks into her fading, bruised skin--- all across her neck, jawline, collarbones and the very tops of her soft, perky breasts.

“marry me,” he asked once again, sounding impatient, though he wouldn’t mind begging, if it only meant claiming her for himself.

she wrapped her arms around his neck more snugly, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss him sweetly, all across his chin and the corners of his mouth, feeling his hands roam freely all over her once more before settling still, giving her backside a loving squeeze.

“be my wife,” he pleads once more, his tone of voice more desperate than ever before, sweet as sugar and the burning flesh of corpses.

she released a small sigh, moving closer just slightly so that she could brush her saliva-coated lips softly against his own, “yes,” she breathed lovingly, feeling as he visibly shuddered against her just from her mere acceptance of his begging proposal.

“i’ve always been yours.”

fin.

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melancholy-of-nadia · 9 months ago

Text

la la lost you (m) | cyj

title: la la lost you pairing: yeonjun x f. reader rating/genre: m (18+) ; fluff, smut ; rivals to lovers au; fake relationship au summary: choi yeonjun was simply just your academic rival, competing for honors at graduation during your senior year. however, when one of your (distant) friends’ brothers is getting married, your 3 guy best friends all have dates to the event except you. in order not to feel like a loser, you decide to call up the only other tolerable male you know: Yeonjun, to be your fake date. what will happen when a childish fake date scheme actually ends up turning into your first real relationship lasting an entire summer. it may ultimately.. not end well. warnings: fluff, smut, language, underage drinking, summer fling, riding, fake relationship, oral s*x, car s*x, multiple dates, overprotective yoonminjoon, cameos of other idols, cumming, kisses, partying, angst, eventual break up note: this is a prequel one shot to the 'love u lately' series. however you don't need to read that series to understand this one shot. honestly might be better if you haven’t read it! it will heavily focus on the mentioned previous relationship reader had with yeonjun before starting college (which explains certain events and character thoughts in the series) and well as the perspectives of yoonminjoon and their attitudes towards it as they were still struggling with how they feel towards reader, which is explored in 'love u lately' I hope my btxt lovers can enjoy this fic! (please note that this is about 15% unedited, so apologies for any grammatical errors in advances) total word count: 21.5k drop date: September 13th, 2023 12:30PM PST ao3 link | fic is named after NIKI's song La La Lost You (2019)

–

Daniel Yeonjun Choi.

You encountered him in your Honors English class during freshman year, and somehow, he's always been in the same AP or Honors classes as you.

On the contrary, Jimin’s only been in five classes with you throughout high school. So this opened up and lot of time for you to get to know Yeonjun. He has been a constant presence after all, vying with you for the highest grades in your shared classes. He’s also very blunt and teased you a lot, just out of pure enjoyment to see your reaction. If he couldn’t beat you in academics, he found other ways to torture you.

"Wait you didn't go to prom?" Yeonjun's voice cut through the classroom, drawing the attention of your AP Government class.

You let out a sigh, trying to deflect the conversation. "Can we drop that? We have a project to work on," you said, gesturing towards the thick stack of papers detailing famous court cases.

Yeonjun persisted, his curiosity apparent. "But why didn't you go?" His tone bordered on obnoxious, earning a laugh from Mark, who sat nearby. Mark knew he was enabling his behavior, but didn’t care.

From what you recall, Jimin went to prom with some girl you don’t know. You didn’t have a date, nor close female friends without dates to spend the night at the Grand Strawberry Hill Golf Course. Tickets were $50. You would rather spend the night bussing down tables at the cafe you work out and use that money on something else. The list goes on.

"I just didn't feel like it, okay? Plus, I had work," you replied, hoping to end the discussion.

Yeonjun's response was simple but cutting. "Lame."

You rolled your eyes at Yeonjun's comment, feeling the urge to defend yourself against their teasing.

Mark chimed in, a mischievous grin on his face. "Come on, Y/N, you missed out on the highlight of senior year!"

"Yeah, Y/N, how could you skip out on the chance to dance the night away with the love of your life?" Yeonjun added, his tone teasing but playful.

You sighed, feeling slightly exasperated. "It's not that big of a deal. Just an expensive dance. Plus I don’t have a ‘love of my life’ anyway."

You don’t. You’ve crushed on a guy here or there, but no one to actually feel compelled to be with. Wonwoo was cute though, but he transferred schools not long after you two fucked due to the Virginity Race. And no, there’s no correlation between what happened and him transferring.

Sensing that his comment had struck a chord within you, he stopped pressing on.

“Anyway, so about the case study, should we do the supreme court case where…” Yeonjun sighed loudly, changing the topic to the assignment you had been so keen to work on.

He enjoyed seeing you get flustered, but not upset or sad. It was never his intention. That was because, maybe, somewhere in his little evil Virgo heart, he kind of liked you.

You don’t know when that seed of thought was planted in his mind. Maybe when you two had to do a Romeo and Juliet film project for Honors English class during your freshmen year? Or was it when you two were on the student council during junior year? He was just a side character in your life that would make big appearances here and there, but one thing you know for sure is that him becoming the main character in your life was due to one event. The event that truly kickstarted everything happened a week after this interaction.

The wedding invite.

“You’re inviting me to your brother’s wedding?” You say, dumbfounded.

“Yeah! You’re my friend after all!”

“Seokjin, I am the one who barely knows you out of the 4 of us.” You exclaim, making the other guys laugh.

The sun beats down mercilessly as you all sit outside In-N-Out, trying to seek refuge from the sweltering May heat. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Seokjin are enjoying a brief break from university life, having returned home for the weekend. They wanted to meet up with you and Jimin, who were already drinking milkshakes and scarfing down some animal fries before they arrived and joined you two.

Seokjin's mom had asked for Jin’s help in hand-delivering invitations for his brother's upcoming wedding. The ceremony is slated for the weekend before your and Jimin's high school graduation. She wants it to be huge, so she tells Jin to invite everyone and anyone he knows.

To be completely honest, you don’t know Jin that well. He didn’t even go to the same high school as you. It’s because your best friends’ parents go to the same church, Our Lady of Peace, as his parents. That’s how they all met. And eventually how you ended up meeting him/ There are these other guys in your extended friend group too, but you can’t remember their names right now.

As the conversation veers towards the wedding's details, you lean in with interest. "Where’s it happening at?" you ask, genuinely intrigued.

"Oak Creek Golf Club,"

"There? Wow, I heard that place is fancy!" you remark, a flicker of excitement igniting within you. "Wait, do we have to bring… a plus one to this?" The words stumble out awkwardly, earning you a questionable look from Jimin.

Jin's response is quick and jovial. "A plus one? You mean a date?" he clarifies, amusement coloring his tone.

You nod slowly.

"Yeah, you can bring a date if you want. My mom said the more the merrier! I know Namjoon is bringing Hyungseo—" Jin's words are cut off by Namjoon's interjection, his discomfort evident.

Hyungseo? Oh, must be another one of Joon’s flings, you think.

“Jin…” He warns the older man.

"It's not a secret, plus I'm sure they're bringing dates too, right?" Jin redirects the conversation smoothly, addressing you, Jimin and Yoongi.

Jimin jumps in with a sassy affirmation. "Yeah, of course we are!" he declares, nodding emphatically.

Yoongi's eyes dart to you, gauging your reaction subtly, causing a flutter of nerves in your stomach. With a nod, you confirm your attendance, feeling a surge of relief at joining in the banter.

"Yeah! And I already have someone too!" you announce, met with a chorus of surprised responses from the three men.

“You do?” The three men question in unison.

You don’t.

You don’t even want to bring a date.

But if they’re bringing dates, then you must bring one or else you’re going to be the biggest loser there!

Plus, you already said you would bring one and if you don’t, you’ll be framed as a liar.

One major thing about this is that: You don’t want to get bombarded by random Korean aunties asking if you have a boyfriend or offering you their son who is in medical or law school to be your husband. You don’t want to get asked why you don’t have one either.

You just don’t. You never had time for it.

Your parents drilled this into you since day 1 of preschool: Study hard. No boyfriend until college, and well, you followed through with that. Yup. We’re not going to talk about the “Amazing Virginity Race” you took part in last year with your three crazy best friends. You lost your virginity, but still, no boyfriend, right?

All you wanted was to be at the top of your class, and you are on track to be salutatorian right now. Jimin has had the valedictorian spot guaranteed since the first day he started high school, taking high-level classes meant for juniors.

However, there was one man who poses a threat to your second spot among the top 10 honor students.

Daniel Yeonjun Choi.

Yet again another mention of this guy!

Despite your rivalry, you've formed an unexpected friendship with him, working successfully together on various school projects. There were a few times you would hang out after school with each other.. Well with some other mutual friends too.

Which is why… he is the best… and technically the only option you have.

To bring as a date.

“Daniel!” You call out to him as he walks out of the last period class you had together. He doesn’t turn around, distracted as he converses with Soobin and Mark, his close friends. But you know for a fact this boy can hear you.

You call out to him repeatedly, but no reaction. You’re annoyed.

So what do you do? Keep following behind him waiting for a perfect moment to snatch his attention fully. You probably look like a creep, but that’s fine.

You see him bid farewell to his two friends as he heads to his locker to put some books away. Now is your chance,

“Yeonjun!” And finally, he turns around, his eyes widen when you use his Korean name.

“Holy fuck, you caught me off guard with that L/N.” He scolds.

“And you didn’t hear me when I called out to you a thousand times before that?”

“No.” He smiles, which irks you, but you can’t let it be known. He finds this attractive, but you don’t know that yet. “What did you want?”

“You remember that one time I helped you out by telling you the answer to the Calculus pop quiz and that you said you’d owe me a favor.” You pout your lips out, hoping he takes pity on you and hears you out.

“...Ugh. Can we save that for another day? I got dance practice.”

No, you cannot! Time is ticking. You’re going to have to be blunt.

"No! Look, Choi, I need you to-"

The pleading in the moment sounds very desperate and exasperated which you hope doesn’t–

"Need me? Sounds kinda erotic." The taller boy chuckles, and your face scowls, turning a heavy shade of red.

Dammit, that’s exactly what I didn’t want it to sound like!

"Huh? That’s not…You're gross! As if I would EVER do anything trashy with you!" You cross your arms, feeling impatient. You look away from him, seeing some of the passing students. Jimin’s supposed to meet you near this building and should be here any minute from his last class across campus so you can both go home together. You don’t want to get caught doing this.

This isn't gonna work at this rate, and you don't have any more time for this.

"You know what, never mind. I don't even know why I bothered to think of asking you. I should've asked Mark instead." You turn around, deciding to walk away from the situation. Maybe you'll take the L! You'll go to Seokjin's dumb brother's wedding by yourself like the loser you are while everyone else has dates.

"Hey, wait!" Yeonjun pulls your arm toward him, making you turn back around. You are now face to face with each other, which makes you suddenly feel nervous. "Alright. Fine, Princess, I'm listening. What is it?" He looks at you, finally with sincerity in his eyes.

God, I guess if he actually wants to listen now, then you'll say it. What could go wrong?

You tiptoe and lean in close to his ear, catching Yeonjun slightly off guard. "Okay. so I need you to be my fake date to my friend's brother's wedding."

Yeonjun blinks repeated, processing the request. After realizing he was frozen, he immediately goes back to his usual expression and smirks. "Well, well, well. Looks like someone couldn't resist the charm of Choi Yeonjun after all."

You roll your eyes, "Hell no. Please, you can be there looking all pretty, but I'd rather dance with a cactus."

He raises an eyebrow, "You sure about that? Cacti can be quite prickly, you know."

You huff, "Just shut up and play along. I need you to act like a decent human being for one evening. You owe me anyways, remember?"

Yeonjun smirks again, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Decent human being? That's a stretch," he grins, clearly enjoying this. "But sure, why not? It's not every day someone gets to be in the presence of greatness."

You scoff, shaking your head, "Greatness? Please. Just don't embarrass me, okay?"

Yeonjun's grin widens, "No promises, sweetheart. But I'll do my best. After all, I owe you."

"Yeah, yeah. Just be ready to suffer through a night of pretending to like me," you retort with a wry smile.

"Oh, the sacrifices I make for you," he replies, sarcasm dripping from every word.

As you walk away, hoping to meet Jimin halfway you can't help but mutter under your breath, "This is gonna be a disaster."

Yeonjun's laughter follows you from a very short distance after overhearing you, "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea."

After Yeonjun agreed, you begin meeting with him regularly over the next two weeks leading up to the wedding. Your primary objective is to shop for outfits suitable for the event and to conduct some "etiquette" training. By "etiquette," you mean coaching him on how to handle questions from the guys or any of Seokjin's family members in a certain manner.

So this gives you guys a lot of time to get to know each other.

You learn that he prefers to be called Yeonjun, as Daniel just feels like a persona he puts up in school. You learn that he lives with his aunt, uncle, and younger cousin at the Woodbridge Apartment complex. His parents wanted him to grow up in the US, so they left him here in their care and just told him to get through school and come back to Korea when he graduates college. He says that’s one of the main factors that has kept him motivated to keep working hard and getting into a good college.

He gets to know you too. You tell him you live close to school, with your parents and younger sister for the majority of your life. You tell him about the business program you got into at a college where two of your best friends go. You tell him all your pet peeves, your likes and dislikes.

And he listens.

“Bought these on my way here.” Yeonjun handed you a white bag, a small smile playing on his lips as he stepped into your house . You accepted it with a curious glance and opened it up, revealing an array of pastries nestled inside.

"Bread?" you asked, slightly surprised.

"Yeah," Yeonjun replied. "I remember you mentioning that you were craving Tour Les Jours the other day. So, I got you a custard bun, a blueberry cream cheese bun—"

You interrupted him, incredulous. "Wait, you remembered that? I just blurted it out randomly in the middle of AP Lit a few days ago because I was hungry at the time. You really didn't have to get me anything."

"Nah, it was nothing," Yeonjun said casually, settling down comfortably on your living room couch. "I had gone to drop off Soobin at his house, so it was just a quick stop."

"Well, then, we can snack on it later," you replied with a smile, feeling touched by his thoughtful gesture. “So about the Seokjin’s brother…”

Things like that made your heart become a bit softer for him after all thus time.

During this time, Jimin was too busy with the girl he is seeing (a dancer, actually) or with dance practice sessions after school. So he didn’t know you were hanging out with Yeonjun instead.

But there were still days throughout the week that you would hang out.

You’re best friends after all.

The scent of freshly baked pastries envelops you as you sit across from Jimin amidst the cozy ambiance of his dad's bakery cafe. Textbooks and notes are spread out between you, but your mind is elsewhere, preoccupied with thoughts of the impending conversation.

Jimin glances up from his notes, furrowing his brows as he studies your slightly giddy expression. "Hey, Y/N," he begins tentatively, "Is everything okay? You've been acting kinda weird since that hangout at In-N-Out."

Despite him not knowing what you were doing, he could still feel tha something was different about you.

You feign innocence, offering a casual shrug. "Weird? I don't know what you're talking about, Jimin. I've just been busy with stuff."

But Jimin isn't convinced, his gaze probing as he leans in slightly. "Come on, Darling, I know when something's up. You can tell me."

You maintain your facade of nonchalance, avoiding his penetrating stare. "Honestly, Jimin, there's nothing to tell. Just stressed about exams, that's all!"

"Fine, okay, be that way. But don't think I'll stop trying to figure it out." He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

You offer him a small smile, hoping to diffuse the tension. "I know you won't."

After a moment of silence, Jimin's curiosity continues. "So, about that wedding... Do you really have a date lined up?"

You pause momentarily from writing your final notes on a cheat sheet. "Yeah, I do," you reply casually. "You'll meet him soon."

Jimin's eyes widen with interest, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Oh, really? The Y/N who’s never had a boyfriend before got the courage to ask someone as their wedding date."

You offer him a playful shove, laughing softly. "Maybe the virginity competition last year changed me, but don't get too excited, Jimin. He's just a…friend."

In the back of your mind, you start to wonder otherwise.

Standing outside in your brown UO Samara Mesh Strapless Midi Dress, you nervously glance around, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention. Namjoon's absence offers you some temporary relief from your anxiety about being seen with Yeonjun. He stayed the night at Jin’s, so you’ll see him at the venue.

Suddenly, the sound of an engine draws your attention, and you turn to see Yeonjun's 1998 Red Subaru Impreza pulling up to the curb. It's not the first time you've laid eyes on his car, having been in it several times before when he’d give you a ride to your house or take you to his. But you can't help but admire the vintage charm it exudes every time you see it. It’s just so, Yeonjun.

As Yeonjun's gaze meets yours, he's momentarily struck silent, his eyes roaming over your dress. "Uh, ready for the show...sweetheart?" he finally manages to say.

A giggle escapes your lips as you saunter over to the car. "Oh, you know I was born ready." you tease, flashing him a playful grin as you slide into the passenger seat.

Feeling a rush of excitement and nerves, you hurry to find seats in the pews set up at the outdoor ceremonial venue at the country club, your fingers instinctively reaching out to grasp Yeonjun's wrists for support. As you settle into your chosen spot, you cast a quick glance around and realize that the place is packed to the brim with guests, the air humming with anticipation and excitement.

Your heart skips a beat slightly as you lock eyes with Namjoon across the crowded area. There's a flicker of recognition in his gaze, followed by a swift glance toward the person seated next to you—Yeonjun. His expression remains inscrutable as he studies the two of you, leaving you to wonder what thoughts are running through his mind.

A wave of uncertainty washes over you as Namjoon offers a hesitant wave in your direction. Beside him, Yoongi and Jimin turn to look at you and share a similar surprised, yet confused expression, their eyes briefly meeting yours before Jimin leans in to say something to Yoongi. You strain to catch a glimpse of their conversation, but the distance and the din of the crowd make it impossible to decipher.

A sense of unease settles in the pit of your stomach as you contemplate their reactions, a myriad of questions swirling in your mind. But with the ceremony about to begin, you push aside your apprehensions, focusing instead on Seokjin’s brother at the front with the priest, and his sister-in-law preparing to walk the aisle as the ceremony begins.

As you step into the wedding reception venue at Oak Creek Golf Club, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable introductions.

“You good, Princess?” Yeonjun says gently, reassuring you from your nerves. You look at him, your eyes softening, “Yeah, just a bit of nerves, but I’m ready to get this over with.”

With Yeonjun by your side, you navigate through the crowd until you join your group of friends sitting at a large round table.

After greeting, you clear your throat nervously and gesture towards Yeonjun. "This is my date," you announce, hoping to break the ice.

Yeonjun stands beside you, momentarily speechless as he takes in the sight of your guy best friends and the other males at the table. Sensing his hesitation, you shoot him a subtle elbow, prompting him to snap out of his daze.

"Ow," he mutters, before regaining his composure and extending a hand towards the others. "Uh, hi, I'm Daniel Choi, but you can call me Yeonjun. Nice to meet you guys," he manages, his tone a blend of nervousness and politeness.

As the guys' inquisitive gazes shift between you and Yeonjun, they waste no time in launching into their interrogation.

Jimin leans in, his eyes narrowed with curiosity. "Y/N, what's going on? How did you end up bringing Yeonjun as your date?" He’s not shying away from the elephant in the room.

Jimin has been familiar with Yeonjun for a long time. They both are dancers, though Jimin does it competitively at school (and won competitions), while Yeonjun is a well-known dancer at your hometown’s community dance studio. Makes sense they would have crossed paths because of dance mutuals after all. Jimin has also he heard you complain about him and his teasing the last couple of years. He never paid him too much attention, until now.

You offer a practiced smile, reciting the rehearsed response you've prepared. "Oh, well, Yeonjun and I have been friends for a while, and when I needed a date for the wedding, he kindly offered to accompany me."

Jimin is immediately smelling that something is fishy. In his mind, he knows that you hate Yeonjun. Well, hate seems to be a strong word. More like, you have differences with one another.

Namjoon furrows his brow, his expression skeptical. "Friends, huh? I’ve never heard you mention him being your friend before. Weren’t you guys rivals?"

Shit. You know Namjoon knew him from being in the student leadership with him during his junior year of high school. He also heard Yeonjun ranting about you getting higher grades than you.

You shrug casually, masking your unease. "Well, you know how it is. Sometimes friendships develop unexpectedly."

Yoongi leans back in his chair, eyeing Yeonjun with a hint of suspicion. "Okay, so Yeonjun, how did you and Y/N become friends so suddenly?"

Yeonjun clears his throat nervously, his eyes darting between the three men and the others at the table overhearing their conversation. "Uh, well, you probably heard we had classes together over the years. And mutual friends," he begins, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "And, uh, we just hit it off, I guess."

Jimin raises an eyebrow, his gaze probing. "That’s funny because last time I recall, we were the only ones who were Y/N’s friends.”

He is right, you’re not really close to anyone else.

But Yeonjun does not know how to respond to that. Though he’s close to saying something sassy right back. But he knows it would be disrespectful, and he doesn’t want to cause any drama. You wouldn’t want him to start something with your best friends either.

There’s a brief pause as the guys absorb the answers Yeonjun spouts out during this interrogative ordeal, exchanging glances with each other. Sensing the tension, you interject quickly. "Okay! Enough with that. So, how about we grab some drinks. It's a celebration, after all!"

With a subtle shift in focus, the conversation veers away from the interrogation, allowing you and Yeonjun a momentary reprieve from their scrutiny.

You link arms with Yeonjun, guiding him towards the bar where champagne floats are being served, eager for a temporary escape from the intense interrogation. You sneakily grab two, worried that someone will say something about two underage teens drinking, but no one notices. You think no one cares. You hand one to Yeonjun, who only takes a sip of it but puts it aside as he remembers he’s driving you home tonight.

As you sip on your drink, you can't help but shake your head in disbelief. "I didn't think they would go off like that... I've never seen them do that," you remark, baffled by their sudden intensity.

Yeonjun glances at you and your drink and chuckles softly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, looks like your friends are more protective than I thought. Guess I'll have to watch my back around them," he replies with a sassy smirk, his tone teasing yet lighthearted.

You can't help but laugh at his response, grateful for his ability to add some humor into the tense situation. If you were in his shoes, you would’ve left the moment they started questioning you. It’s not worth the hassle to make up a favor.

As you and Yeonjun return to the table, you finally notice Namjoon and Jimin's dates seated nearby and decide to seize the opportunity to meet them. With a friendly smile, you turn to Namjoon and Jimin, gesturing towards their dates. "Hey, mind introducing me to your lovely companions?" you inquire politely.

Namjoon and Jimin exchange knowing glances before obliging. "Uh yeah of course, Y/N," Namjoon replies, gesturing towards his date, wearing a long beige spaghetti-strapped dress. "This is Hyungseo."

"And this is Shuhua," Jimin adds, indicating his own companion wearing a navy blue satin mini dress.

You offer warm greetings to both Hyungseo and Shuhua, engaging them in conversation as you exchange pleasantries. Though, they both seem to be reluctant to talk to you and ignore your efforts. It leaves you feeling offended. You just met them and they’re being rude already. The guys take note of their behavior, but don’t say anything.

They’re lost causes, you think.

Turning to the rest of the group to continue your socializing, you notice Hoseok, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jin accompanied by their respective dates. Their dates are fortunately, kinder than the other girls. You make your rounds, introducing yourself to each of them and exchanging friendly banter.

However, you can't help but notice that Yoongi is sitting alone, without a date by his side. Sensing his discomfort, you offer him a smile, silently acknowledging his solitude.

"Hey, Yoongi, couldn't find a date to save your life, huh?" Hoseok teases with a playful grin.

Taehyung chimes in, nudging Yoongi gently. "Come on, man, what happened? Couldn't charm anyone into accompanying you tonight?"

Jungkook adds with a smirk, "Looks like it's just you and the dance floor tonight, hyung."

Even Jin comments on it as he returns to the table after having to go help his mom with something. "Well, well, well, looks like the most eligible bachelor at the table is flying solo tonight."

Despite the teasing, Yoongi takes it all in stride, offering a nonchalant shrug and a smirk of his own. "Hey, I don't need a date to have a good time. Besides, who needs the drama, right?"

Maybe he’s right. Did you really need to be doing all of this just to prove some point?

You continue your time, eating and conversing with your friends around you. The afternoon sunset changes to a night sky. Despite everyone having fun, drinking and celebrating, a part of you feels guilty for bringing Yeonjun as your “fake date”. You should’ve come by yourself or as Yoongi’s buddy. But you always feel the need to prove something, and feel dumb by the end of it.

The mood in your mind sombers, and you turn to Yeonjun and whisper in his ear.

"I'm going to step out for a bit. You can stay here."

Yeonjun's concerned gaze meets yours, his brows furrowing in worry. "Hey, hey, something wrong?" he asks softly.

"Just feeling overwhelmed with the partying environment," you reply, attempting to brush off your unease. "Don't worry about—"

But before you can finish, Yeonjun cuts in determinedly. "I'll go with you."

You offer him a grateful smile, touched by his unwavering support, as you both make your way towards the entrance of the outdoor reception area. Finding solace in the quietude outside, you settle onto a bench next to a tree adorned with twinkling lights, the gentle rustle of leaves providing a comforting backdrop to your thoughts.

As you sit together on the bench, the soft glow of the lights casting a serene ambiance around you, you can't shake the feeling of guilt that weighs heavily on your chest. With a sigh, you turn to Yeonjun, your voice tinged with regret.

"Yeonjun, I’m gonna be honest with you. I've been feeling terrible about dragging you into this whole charade as my date," you begin, your words hesitant yet sincere.

Yeonjun's gaze softens, his expression filled with understanding. "It's okay. You don't need to apologize," he reassures you gently.

But you shake your head, a pang of guilt twisting in your stomach. "No, you don't understand. I feel like I've wasted your time, made you endure all of this just to satisfy some silly notion of mine," you confess, your voice laced with self-reproach.

Yeonjun reaches out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, listen to me. You didn't waste my time. I chose to be here and all those hang out sessions because I wanted to help you. I wanted to be by your side," he says earnestly.

You meet his gaze, feeling a surge of gratitude and warmth wash over you at his words. "But you shouldn't have had to endure all of this just for my sake," you protest softly.

Yeonjun smiles softly, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. "Sometimes, we do things for the people we care about, even if it means stepping out of our comfort zone. And honestly, being here with you, even in this weird setup, has been worth it," he says, his voice filled with sincerity.

Touched by his unwavering support and understanding, you feel a lump form in your throat. "Thank you, Yeonjun. I really appreciate everything you've done for me," you say, your voice choked with emotion.

Yeonjun gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. "Anytime, Y/N. Remember, I'm here for you, no matter what," he says softly.

In the serene ambiance of the evening, with the soft glow of lights casting a mesmerizing spell, Yeonjun shifts nervously beside you, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as he finally gathers the courage to speak up.

"You know Y/N, there's something I've been thinking about lately," he begins, his voice laced with a hint of shyness yet buoyed by his characteristic sassiness. "We’ve been hanging out a lot lately, and I honestly feel like it’s changed a lot about how we behave around each other.”

Your curiosity piqued, you turn to him, prompting him to continue.

"What do you mean?" you inquire, your voice filled with genuine interest.

Yeonjun hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering with uncertainty before he continues, his words tinged with a vulnerability that catches you off guard.

"I know I did this as a favor, but I liked hanging out with you a lot," he confesses, his tone sincere. "Getting to know you. Seeing you more often."

A warmth spreads through your chest at his admission, and you find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his.

"Well I... I feel the same way," you admit softly, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. "Spending time with you has been... different. In a good way."

For a moment, silence envelops you both, the tranquility of the night amplifying your heart beating fast. You find yourself lost in thought. What would happen if you started to like Yeonjun? Would it even be possible to be together? You feel crazy for thinking this. Your freshmen year self would kill you for having this thought.

Maybe this is all just in your head. It’s too late to start something just as you’re about to graduate high school and go your separate ways.

But before you can gather your thoughts, Yeonjun's voice breaks the silence, his tone laced with a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings.

"I don't want this to end, Y/N," he confesses, his words tinged with sincerity. "I don't want to go back to how things were before. I actually think I’ve fallen in love with you."

What?

He also had similar thoughts as you?

You can't believe this. This is insane. I mean, you knew you were getting closer, but you never thought... you never thought he'd feel the same way.

This is like something straight out of a movie. A rivals to lovers fic from Wattpad. Your mind is going a million miles an hour right now. What do you do now? It's like the whole world just shifted beneath your feet.

But when you look into Yeonjun's eyes, you can see the sincerity there. It's kind of overwhelming. This was definitely not part of the plan when you set out to do this. I mean, how do you even deal with something like this? You’ve never dated anyone. But at the same time, there's a part of you that's curious, that's intrigued by the possibility of trying it. You’re 18 now, you studied hard and deserve to be in love.

This could change things for you.

But it’s not something you ever expected to happen in your life. Especially with Yeonjun.

As you grapple with the emotions swirling within you, you find yourself hesitantly voicing your doubts to Yeonjun.

"Yeonjun…I feel the same way but it just feels like... like it's too late." you murmur, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "If this happened way before graduation, things would’ve easier, but we’re just about to start college–"

But before you can continue, Yeonjun reaches out, gently taking your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring.

"It's okay, Y/N," he says softly, his eyes meeting yours with a steadfast determination. "I understand that things are different now, but I'm willing to try. I still have the rest of summer with you, and our colleges are somewhat close to each other. We can make it work."

His words wash over you like a soothing balm, calming the storm of uncertainty raging within your mind. Despite your fears and reservations, there's a part of you that's drawn to the possibility of exploring this newfound thing with Yeonjun, and stepping into something completely new in your life. A relationship.

As you gaze into his eyes, you realize that perhaps, just perhaps, this unexpected turn of events could be the beginning of something beautiful. Before you can dwell further on this realization, Yeonjun leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. At first, it's gentle, tentative, as if both of you are testing the waters. But soon, the kiss deepens, passion igniting between you as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Time seems to stand still as you both surrender to the intoxicating sensation of each other's touch. But eventually, you both mutually let go, the need for air becoming too urgent to ignore. With a shared understanding, Yeonjun suggests getting out of there, and you readily agree.

Taking control, Yeonjun grasps your hand firmly in his, leading the way as you rush away to his parked car. As you hurry along, you can't help but glance back at the entrance. You didn’t get to say bye to the guys and the bride and groom. But when you catch a glimpse of Namjoon and Yoongi witnessing your hasty departure with Yeonjun, your heart drops.

Oh shit.

Despite your immediate worries of your two best friends seeing all of that, you push it away once you arrive to Yeonjun’s apartment.

The darkness envelops you as you step inside, the silence punctuated only by the sound of your breathing. Yeonjun explains that his cousin, aunt, and uncle are out of town for the weekend, leaving the apartment empty for the first time ever.

You can't help but tease him, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. "Did you plan this, Yeonjun?" you quip, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Yeonjun responds with a smirk of his own, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Well, Y/N, I’m not supposed to kiss and tell," he retorts in a sassy tone, his playful banter sending a shiver down your spine.

With a coy smile, he takes your hand and leads you to his room, the tension between you palpable. He takes off his tuxedo jacket, placing it on his chair. As he pushes you gently onto the bed and gets on top of you, the rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, mingling with the electrifying sensation of his touch.

In that moment, as you lie together in the dimly lit room, the world fades away, leaving only the two of you lost in the intoxicating embrace of the night. You realize that perhaps, just perhaps, this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Are you sure about this though?” he asks you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips which are soon moving down to your jaw and neck. “If you don’t feel the same, we can end this. I’ll take you home sweetheart.” He leans into your ear.

You can’t hold back the whimper from the sensation his whispers give you. His hands pushes your dress out of the way, bunching around your waist and his long fingers dig into the skin of your ass.

“I think I made it clear I want this just as much as you,” you whisper back, pushing your hands under his collared shirt. You can’t help but marvel at the abs he has hidden under, muscles flexing beneath your palms. Yeonjun takes this time to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt, fully revealing his torso to you.

Fuck, you’ve only seen this in his swim meet photos from last year, but never in person, and especially not like this.

“I want to see you naked too,” He grins pulling his hands away from your ass for a minute, pulling the zipper of the dress down and carefully sliding the strapless garment off you. You can’t suppress the shiver as the cooling air hits your heated skin, you feel like you’re blushing all over knowing he’s looking at you again.

“No bra? Fuck, you’re crazy,” Yeonjun groans dropping his face to your heaving chest, dragging his teeth and tongue over the swell of your breasts.

You grip the back of his head, fingers digging into his black hair as your other hand pushes between the two of you slightly awkwardly, popping the button of his slacks and tugging down his zipper. Pulling your hands away gently, Yeonjun moves down your body.

“What’re you doing?” you ask breathlessly, trying to pull him back up but he shakes his head, a beautiful but dangerous smirk tugging at his lips.

Hooking his fingers in the sides of your black lace thong, he tugs them down your legs and removes them. You watch with wide eyes as he tucks them in his back pocket.

“Uh?! Y-Yeonjun?”

“Call it a thank you for tonight. I survived your friends sending me daggers through the whole day, after all.” He winks up at you as he starts kissing and nipping his way up your inner thighs.

“H-Hey they so didn’t do that! G-Give them back to me or–” Your threat dies in your throat as Yeonjun pulls your leg over one of his shoulders. You can’t take your eyes off of him, his darkened eyes look up at you. It’s a lie if you say you never once thought about this sight. It was a nightmare for you at some point, but now, it’s reality. A good reality.

Yeonjun groans into you as his thick tongue drags through your wet folds, moving from your entrance to your throbbing clit and back again. Your body squirms as you grab his hair, feeling yourself sinking further and further into his bed as you roll your hips down into his face. Yeonjun growls as he sucks your clit between his plump lips. With one arm across your waist holding you still, the other moves between your leg. His two long fingers pushes into you, causing your back to arch, in an attempt to get closer to him.

In this moonlight shining through his room, his arms looked bigger than you remembered. Despite his tall and lanky-looking body, he’s definitely stronger than you previously thought.

“F-Fuck Junnie!” you cry out, saying a new nickname for him in the process. The feeling is so intense as he starts thrusting his fingers into you, switching between scissoring and curling them against that sweet spot inside making your thighs shake.

Yeonjun groans once again as he feels your pussy starting to tighten around his fingers. He continues with faster movements, his tongue starting to flick back and forth over your sensitive bundle of nerves still trapped between his pouty lips.

Pulling away briefly, his tongue runs around his fingers pumping in and out of you. Your mind is beginning to get hazy. You’re so close, that you can feel the edge approaching.

“Tastes better than honey,” he groans low in his chest before sealing his lips back around your clit with renewed vigor, his tongue moving in time with his fingers.

“H-How the fuck are you so g-good at this?” You whimper as his fingers start digging into your hip, “So close, gonna c-come…. f-fuck!” You cry out as you feel the band holding your sanity together inside you snap, your pussy spasming around Yeonjun’s fingers as he works you through your orgasm. He moans around your clit, pushing vibrations through your body as you cling to his hair for dear life.

When you finally feel your body calm down, Yeonjun gently removes his fingers. He looks up at you with a smug look on his face. He’s teasing you. God, you can’t believe he just pulled an orgasm out of you. What the fuck.

Also, why does he know how to do this so well? How many girls has he been with?

“I can’t believe you’re teasing me because you made me cum,” You roll your eyes at him.

He climbs up your body once again and pulls you into a rough, but chaste kiss. It feels gross at first, but somehow intoxicating. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, yet it turns you on more than you thought it would.

“You ain’t seen anything yet, Princess,”

“Oh is that right? Show me what you’ve got then,” you smirk as your hand trails down his body, meeting his eyes when your hand pushes into his boxers. Yeonjun softly groans when your small hand wraps around his thick aching cock, tugging down his slacks and boxers until they’re around his knees. You start to pump his cock in your hand, loving the way his breathing picks up as his hands hold onto your hips. You feel so much power from doing this.

He leans over quickly to grab a condom from his bedside table and starts sliding it on until it fully encapsulates his dick.

“Are you ready?” Yeonjun asks through a moan as you pull him closer, hooking your leg over his hip. His thick cock brushes through your slick pussy, and with every roll of his hips, the tip of his cock nudges your clit.

“Yes please just do it already,” You say urgently, which makes him chuckle. His hand wraps around his cock as he eases inside of you very slowly. His other hands roughly grabs your ass as you cry out against his lips.

“Holy shit, Yeonjun…Fuck”

“God, you’re tight, can’t wait to fuckin’ ruin you,” He groans when your pussy clenches around him. He can’t take it anymore, you practically scream his name as he snaps his hips forward, neighbors be damned. Both of you cling to each other as he waits for you to adjust to his size. His lips press to your ear, his breathing ragged as he speaks.

“You’re only gonna want me now, sweetheart and I’ll make sure of it.”

Your nails drag down his back creating angry red lines against his soft skin. You nod your head slightly foggy, filled with just Yeonjun.

“Do it! Please, move. I’m yours,” you breathe against his lips, your sweaty forehead up against his.

“Love the sound of you being so eager, ” Yeonjun grunts as he thrusts his hips up roughly, causing you to cry out into his open mouth. His hands feel like they’re everywhere as his hips start thrusting up into you wildly, the snap of his hips slapping loudly against your skin. You can feel every inch of his cock, as his lips tongue and teeth explore your neck, sucking dark purple marks into your skin. Cupping your breasts roughly, his plump lips seal around a hardened nipple. His warm mouth feels so amazing against you while you feel your pussy clamping down around his cock for the first time.

You haven’t had sex since you lost your virginity to Wonwoo, and this being your second time feels so amazing.

“Hold it,” Yeonjun grunts pulling you back from the brink of cumming. You stare at him with your lustful bedroom eyes and mouth dropping open as he fucks into you harder than before.

“I-I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. I’m gonna pull out in a minute and I wanna see you bounce on my cock.” The way he growls those words against your neck makes you whine, desperate for release you know you’re not allowed. Fuck, the horny and desperate hormones are taking over the both of you.

Yeonjun pulls out after another hard thrust that makes your legs weak, stumbling away from you. He grins like a cheshire cat when you glare at him. Laying down awkwardly next to you, he starts pumping his cock in his hand as he watches you crawl towards him. Your back aches and stings, much like the rest of your body in the best way, but all you can focus on is Yeonjun.

To his surprise you turn your back to him, getting to your knees and straddle his hips and thighs. With your hands resting on his thick thighs, you lean your ass back, moaning as he teases the tip of his cock against your entrance. It slips inside you with not much difficulty and you can’t help but push back into him. You slowly lower yourself, letting your tight wet heat envelope him, until your ass is pressed against his groin and lower stomach.

“D-Didn’t know you have a thing for my ass,” You tease.

Yeonjun growls low in his throat, squeezing your ass roughly as you lift almost off his cock before dropping back down.

“Not such a good girl after all are you?” He questions roughly as you start a steady rhythm of rising and falling on his cock, nails digging into his thighs.

You pause to roll your hips over him, loving the way your clit rubs against him.

“N-No, it was a persona for me too,” you cry out as he slaps your ass hard, quickly followed by another harsh slap to your other cheek.

“Y/N, you’re so hot,” Yeonjun groans as you start bouncing again. He feels your pussy beginning to clench again as your slick leaks down his shaft and balls. You hold on when you start to feel him bucking his hips up into you. “Don’t stop, let go Princess,” Yeonjun says roughly catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

Pushing a hand between your legs, you rub harsh circles into your clit. Your throat is hoarse from shouting out his name. Your eyes squeeze tightly shut as Yeonjun thrusts up hard, and you cry out as you come, clinging to him wherever you can.

You’ve barely come down from your euphoric high when Yeonjun eases you up, a rough bruising grip on your hips. He takes control guiding you up and down his length until he finally comes with a moaning whimper of your name falling from his lips.

You're panting hard when Yeonjun finally pulls out slowly, helping you lay down next to him gently.

“Fuck, I love you” Yeonjun whispers aggressively as he goes in to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you. It takes a while for those words to sink in because you’re still in disbelief. When he pulls away he’s surprised to find you frowning.

“You okay?” he asks worriedly, his fingers brushing over the slowly forming bruises on your body. “Was I too rough,” he swallows hard, meeting your eyes. You shake your head.

“You mean you love me as a friend right?” you question nervously, just wanting to confirm that he actually isn’t playing with your heart.

You heard rumors that he kinda does this thing with a select few girls for fun. So you want to make sure if he is actually on the same wavelength as you.

“That’s what’s wrong?” He asks with a smile shaking his head and kissing you again. He grabs a blanket to cover your body with for warmth.

You nod looking down at your fingers which are now linked with his.

“If it bothers you, Y/N, then yeah I can pretend I meant as friends but no. I meant it when I said I fell in love with you. I wish we could’ve done this sooner, but at least I didn’t wait any longer,” he chuckles, the blush on his cheeks brightening the more he speaks. “But it’s totally fine if you wanna chalk this up to–” You cover his mouth with your hand shaking your head.

You pull his lips to yours with tears in your eyes, feeling him smile into the kiss as a sigh of relief leaves his chest. “I’ve start to fall in love with you too, if it wasn’t obvious the last couple of weeks we started talking more. I was so used to you being a flirty nerd, but this was very unexpected. I’m still speechless,” you giggle watching the smirk slip onto his plump lips.

“Funny how you said you’re never do anything trashy with me and look at us now,” he promises you as he gets up to discard the used up condom in the trash bin next to his bed.

You roll your eyes at him, “Shut up! Things change!”

They really do.

The next morning, Yeonjun drops you off at your home. Well, he drops you off at the street corner so you wouldn’t appear too suspicious.

“I know you gotta study for finals this week before graduation on Saturday, so I won’t bother you. But text me if you need me.”

You nod, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you look at Yeonjun. "Thanks, Yeonjun. I appreciate it," you say softly, your heart feeling lighter knowing he's there for you now as someone more than a rival, more than a friend.

Yeonjun returns your smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. "Anytime, Y/N. I'll be waiting for your call," he replies, his voice tinged with sincerity.

As you step out of the car and onto the sidewalk, you turn back to wave at Yeonjun, watching as he drives away.

When enter your house, your very nosey mother folding laundry in the living room asks you about the wedding and where you stayed the night, you tell her you stayed with Kyeongmin, Namjoon’s younger sister. Before she can ask you anything else, you tell her you’re going to rest up and study for your finals in your room.

Once safely in your room, you let out a sigh of relief, grateful to have dodged your mother's interrogation. But as you glance at your phone, you see messages from Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin, all undoubtedly asking about last night's events.

Shit. It seems like you have some explaining to do.

You open Namjoon's message, feeling a pang of guilt as you read his words.

Namjoonie [Saturday 12:01AM]: Hey, tiny! Sorry about making you uncomfortable by interrogating you and Yeonjun. Are you really dating him?

You take a deep breath before composing your response.

You [Sunday 8:11AM]: “Hey, Joon! Yeah… I'm with Yeonjun…

You [Sunday 8:12AM]: It’s a long story. Let’s talk more after finals and grad are done? You’re going on Saturday, right?

You weren’t expecting him to be up at this hour, but when he responds not long after you send your text out, you wonder what happened after he left.

Namjoon [Sunday 8:12AM]: Wouldn’t miss it for the world :)

Namjoon has always been overprotective over you, but surprisingly, he’s being patient right now. Maybe the year in college has changed him. A part of you kinda hoped he’d react differently.

You responded to the rest of the guys similarly, and also receive responses that oddly disappoint you a bit.

June 3rd, 20XX [Saturday]

Finals week goes by in a flash. You pass all your finals with flying colors, and before you know it, it's Saturday morning. The graduation ceremony is at 4PM, but you're at the school gym at the crack ass of dawn to practice sitting in assigned seats and walking for the ceremony at the football field later. With your status as Salutatorian, you end up getting placed in the very front, along with Jimin who is the Valedictorian and Yeonjun who sits in the 3rd spot. The rest of the spots are filled by Daisy, Mark, Soobin, Denise, Stephan, Felix, and Kevin.

"It's really happening," you say out loud to no one in particular, but Jimin and Yeonjun look at you.

Jimin offers you a reassuring smile. "Yeah, it is. Can you believe it?"

Yeonjun chimes in, his usual playful smirk adorning his lips. "Well, I mean, look at us, top of the class and all."

Jimin eyes him suspiciously. It’s unlike Yeonjun to just butt into a conversation with you and Jimin like that. You’re afraid Jimin’s going to pounce on him, especially after likely hearing about what you two did at the wedding from your other best friends.

You chuckle nervously, attempting to redirect Jimin’s focus from him. "Well I barely secured this spot. Thank God you got an A- in AP Calculus,"

Jimin laughs a little too hard at your comment, and Yeonjun rolls his eyes playfully. "Hey, we’re all going to college and that’s what matters," he says, flashing a grin.

You nod, feeling a sense of camaraderie with your friends. "Yeah, we are."

As the morning progresses, you go through the motions of the graduation rehearsal, listening to the instructions from the faculty and practicing your entrance and exit. After an hour and thirty minutes of practicing, you’re all free to head home and get ready.

"I'll give you a ride," Yeonjun suggests to you casually, however Jimin suddenly grabs your wrist.

"Nope, I'm taking her!" Jimin chimes in. "See ya!"

"H-Hey! Wait!" You protest, but Jimin drags you away to his used black porsche parked in the student parking lot.

You stumble slightly as Jimin pulls you along, caught off guard by his sudden decision. "Jimin, what's going on?" you ask, trying to keep up with his brisk pace.

"Nothing.” He groans, “Just want to take you to my place to get ready with me for graduation. We'll drop by your house to get your stuff."

You're taken aback by Jimin's sudden assertiveness but decide to go along with it, intrigued by what he has planned. "Uhh right! Sounds good?" you reply, trying to keep up with his energetic pace.

Jimin unlocks his car, and you slide into the passenger seat beside him. The engine roars to life, and you two exit campus, leaving Yeonjun there as he left with a puzzled expression. What Jimin did would be considered war against Yeonjun. But yet again, you didn’t realize this at the time.

The sun beats down on the football field, casting a warm glow over the sea of graduates seated in neat rows. As you sit among your classmates, adorned in your purple cap and gown, you can't help but feel a surge of nerves coursing through you. The anticipation builds as you anxiously await your turn to present your short speech as the Salutatorian of your class.

The field is alive with the buzz of excitement and anticipation, friends and family members filling the stands to witness this momentous occasion. The scent of freshly cut grass mingles with the faint aroma of flowers carried on the breeze, creating an atmosphere of celebration and achievement.

Your eyes scan the crowd, searching for familiar faces among the sea of spectators. You catch sight of your parents and sister sitting in the middle row, and then see Yoongi, Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, Jungkook and Taehyung sitting right in front of them, holding flowers and balloons. Their proud smiles warming your heart and easing some of your nerves.

Suddenly, your attention is drawn to the stage where Jimin stands, delivering his graduation speech with eloquence and passion. His words resonate with the audience, his voice carrying across the field as he imparts words of wisdom and reflection on the journey ahead.

As Jimin concludes his speech to thunderous applause, you feel a mixture of pride and apprehension. It's your turn now, and you rise to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way to the podium.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to speak, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. You don’t remember what you said, but you did deliver your speech with poise and confidence, sharing words of gratitude and inspiration with your fellow graduates. And it was well received, so that’s all that matters.

As the ceremony draws to a close and the last diploma is handed out, the graduates are instructed to move their tassels from the right side of their caps to the left—a symbolic gesture marking their transition from students to graduates.

With a collective movement, the sea of caps is adorned with a new arrangement of tassels, signifying the culmination of years of hard work and dedication. The air is filled with the sound of cheers and applause from family and friends, along with the joyful noise of celebratory horns and whistles.

As your eyes scan the crowd, you spot your guy best friends rushing to the field to meet you and Jimin. With wide grins plastered across their faces, they weave through the throngs of people, their excitement palpable in the air.

Yoongi is the first to reach you in a rush, his trademark smirk firmly in place. "Well, well, look who's finally a high school graduate," he teases, clapping a hand on your shoulder.

Namjoon follows closely behind, his eyes sparkling with pride. "Congrats you two! You actually made it!" he exclaims, enveloping you and Jimin in a tight hug.

“With honors, too. You two are insane. Congrats you nerds!” Jin teased. “It’s called being competitive! And of course we were gonna graduate. We may have been gaming at times, but we still did our shit.” Jimin exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

Hoseok jumps in with his signature peppiness, practically bouncing on his toes. "Hey, I believed y’all could do it! Now, let's party!" he cheers, his enthusiasm infectious.

Taehyung joins the group with a mischievous grin, already planning the festivities. "Hey, hey, Jungkook and I’s high school graduation isn’t until 7 PM. We can't party yet," he interjects, his eyes still twinkling with anticipation despite the delay.

You smile at Taehyung's words, nodding in agreement. "Don’t worry. Jimin and I will definitely swing by your graduation and then we’ll party," you assure him, feeling the excitement building up again. The group chuckles, the prospect of double celebrations lifting their spirits even more.

As you bask in the joyous atmosphere, a pang of sadness washes over you as you remember Yeonjun. You quickly turn around to scan the crowd for him, but he's nowhere to be seen. Before you can dwell on it further, you're called out by your parents and surrounded by friends and teachers eager to congratulate you and bid you farewell. The momentary worry about Yeonjun is pushed aside as you immerse yourself in the festivities.

June 4th, 20XX [Sunday]

Despite the fact that you couldn't see him after the ceremony, Yeonjun shows up at your house the next morning.

Your mom and sister are heavily caught off guard when they open the door because they've never seen him in their lives. Your sister rushes up stairs to wakes you from your slumber.

“Y/N! You need to go downstairs because there’s a pretty boy outside waiting for you with flowers!” She yells at you while removing your blankets.

You groggily rub your eyes as your sister's words register in your mind. "A pretty boy with flowers?" you mumble, still half asleep. For some reason, the thought of it being Yeonjun doesn’t click in your head. The first guy that comes to mind is Namjoon, but that wouldn’t make sense.

"Yeah, I've never seen him before," your sister replies with a curious expression. "He's, like, really handsome."

The fact that she’s never seen him before tells you otherwise.

Curiosity piqued, you quickly throw on a hoodie over your pajamas and rush downstairs to see who could possibly be waiting for you at your doorstep. As you descend the stairs, you hear the muffled voices of your mom and sister conversing with someone.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, you freeze in surprise at the sight of Yeonjun standing in your foyer, holding a bouquet of flowers. Your mom and sister look equally bewildered by his presence.

"Yeonjun?" you exclaim, blinking in disbelief.

"Hey," Yeonjun greets you with a sheepish smile, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. "I, uh, hope it's okay that I came over. I wanted to see you."

Your mom and sister exchange incredulous glances before your sister nudges you playfully. "Go on, Y/N, talk to your mysterious visitor," she whispers with a mischievous grin.

You shoot her a grateful, yet awkward smile before turning back to Yeonjun. "Yeah, of course it's okay. I'm just... surprised to see you here."

Yeonjun scratches the back of his neck nervously, his expression sheepish. "Yeah, uh, I wanted to apologize for disappearing after graduation. I got caught up with my friends and family… and I felt bad for not seeing you, so I wanted to make it up to you by taking you out for breakfast."

You raise an eyebrow, slightly surprised by his sudden appearance but also relieved. "Really? Well, I could definitely go for some breakfast right now," you say with a smile, feeling the tension ease between you.

"Get changed and we'll grab pancakes from Stacks. My treat," Yeonjun suggests with a grin.

Your eyes light up with excitement. "Bet! Just give me a sec to get ready," you reply, dashing upstairs to freshen up and swap your pajamas for a band t-shirt tucked into your med-wash jeans before heading out for breakfast.

You spent the morning talking with Yeonjun and eating breakfast before he took you back home. You talked to him about things you want to do over the summer with you and things of that sort. It felt so weird to finally be in a relationship. You didn’t think it would happen, let alone with someone you used to call your rival. He wanted to spend more time with you, but you told him you had to meet with Jimin to help Yoongi and Namjoon pack up and move out for the summer.

You also told him that you were going to let them know about your relationship with him, which he was fine with.

Jimin came to pick you up not long after and he drove to their college, which would soon become the same place you’ll be going to 2.5 months from now.

“Congrats on whatever you and Yeonjun have.” Jimin said once you got in the car.

“Did Namjoon and Yoongi tell you?”

“Briefly, but there’s a few little birds in the dance community saying that Yeonjun was talking about you. Obviously don’t know all the details so you better tell me.” He eyes you for a second before looking back on the road.

“Obviously, you’re my best friend after all.” You say, and then proceed to tell him how this all started, where you are now, your fears, your excitement.

Jimin only nodded in response and smiled at your enthusiasm. But his smile hid a bit of sadness behind it. Though yet again, you didn’t realize the full extent about that at this time.

When you both arrived at the campus, You noticed Namjoon and Yoongi were already waiting for you outside of the dorm building with a good chunk of their stuff, cardboard boxes piled up as tall as them. Though, you think that there’s still more of it inside their dorm. Jimin parked the car in the dorm parking lot and got out to start loading the boxes in his car.

“Seokjin’s going to use his dad’s truck to help us pack some of the stuff that won’t fit in Jimin’s car. We’re waiting for him too.” Namjoon commented as he walked toward your window and leaned against it.

“Good to know! I was telling him earlier that most of this shit won’t fit in his small ass sports car.” You joked, which made Namjoon chuckle at your jab towards Jimin.

There was a pregnant pause after when you realized you hadn’t really talked this casually with Namjoon since the wedding. From the look in his eyes you realize that he also immediately had this thought as well.

You had talked to him last night at your graduation, but it was mainly celebratory exchanges and nothing directly related to your personal circumstances outside of that. He remained mostly around Hoseok’s side last night at the group grad party as he taught Namjoon about djaying.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” You begin as you break the silence, opening the car door to get out and shake your legs from the discomfort of sitting down for an hour. “Things happened pretty suddenly and quickly. There wasn’t really much time to bring it up—”

“It’s okay, Tiny.” Namjoon cut you off, knowing you were about to go on an apology tangent. He knows you do that whenever you feel really bad about something. “We’re all grown up. We’re bound to get into relationships. So don’t worry about it,” Namjoon smiled, however, his seemed more genuine than Jimins’. You’re not sure what this means… You expected more push and pull from him, but he’s being more understanding than you anticipated.

Yoongi tells the both of you to come inside the building so you can help him bring the last of the boxes out of their dorm. When you get to their room, Namjoon continues his thoughts.

“As long as Yeonjun doesn’t break your heart. I’m cool with him, I guess.” He carefully words out, seemingly trying to convince himself about that last sentence.

Yoongi catches chase of what Namjoon is talking about and nods, “I agree with that. If you’re happy, then we’re happy. It’s important to support each other. We’re best friends after all.”

“Right, but you better not leave us behind or start ignoring us for your boyfriend, alright?” Namjoon boops your nose with his index finger before hoisting up 3 big boxes in his arm, making you flustered. Looking at his arm strength has made you question if he’s gotten more buff recently.

“Obviously. You’re my best friends! No matter what, I’d never be an ass to you guys just because I have a boyfriend.” you spoke so matter-of-factly to them, like even the thought of you betraying them was pure blasphemy. You wouldn’t do that to them. You’ve known them for years, and have shed blood, sweat, and tears together. “You’re always one of my top priorities.”

There was a glow on their faces from simply hearing those words from you. You didn’t know the implications of that change of complexion. You were just being honest.

But you didn’t have any idea how much these words would haunt you later on.

The first month or so of dating Yeonjun has felt like a dream.

A long awaited dream that you’ve had for so long. After graduating, you didn’t have much to do for the next three months you’re still in town. During the summer, you’d usually work a seasonal shift at a cafe near your local community college, but they were cutting costs and hiring less staff than usual. Jimin’s dad offered you a job at his bakery instead, which you decided to take, much to Jimin’s dismay. You assumed it’s because he didn’t want his dad to work you to the bone, which you didn’t mind. You wanted to have some extra cash to pay for college, as well as your outings with Yeonjun.

Yeonjun didn’t seem opposed to it either. Well, that’s what you thought at the time. Right before your shifts ended, Yeonjun would come by, get an injeolmi toast or an Iced Americano and then pick you up from work when your shift ended. It was a little embarrassing that Mr. Park would see him come by often. He’d even start to question you about the boy. At some point, he began conversations with him, asking him if he’s Korean, what school does he go to, what his parents do, etc. Jimin’s dad found him interesting, and would tease Jimin to “be more like Yeonjun”.

“Be more like Yeonjun?” Jimin scoffed, but didn’t continue his thought after looking at you and then looking away to continue with his task.

After he’d pick you up, you’d go on dates. Sometimes, you’d have a picnic at the lake or walk around the mall and talk about work, your parents, and your best friends with him. Other times, you’d come over to his apartment and help his aunt and cousin make mandu. When you were lucky, the apartment would be empty and you’d take the time to have sex with Yeonjun in his room.

Once, you tried to do the same thing and invite him to your place for sex. Your parents and sister had gone 2 cities over to shop at a bigger mall, so you didn’t miss the chance to text Yeonjun to come over. You were nervous the whole time, fearing that your parents could come home sooner than expected or sometimes even worse, Namjoon or his family would notice that Yeonjun came over. But your horny self pushed those thoughts away and let it happen.

Losing your sanity slowly for this man. But other thoughts remained on the back of your mind.

July 4th, 20XX [Tuesday]

The afternoon sun was already high, casting a warm glow over the town as you called up Yeonjun to see if he wanted to join you at Hoseok's barbecue pool party. He had invited you and your best friends a last week, but you wanted your boyfriend to come along as well. It would help him get more familiar with your friend group and maybe your friends.

Yeonjun said he’s be down and confirmed that he would drive. Namjoon and Yoongi texted you not long after your call ended asking if they could get a ride from you since they were planning to drink at the party. Out of habit, you agreed, but then realized you fucked up.

When Yeonjun’s car pulled up to your front curb, there was a brief moment of reluctance as he saw Namjoon and Yoongi waiting with you. "Hey…didn't know we'd have a full car," Yeonjun said, trying to keep his tone light.

"I’m so sorry about that," you replied, sensing a bit of tension. "But they need a ride! And we’re going to the same place so it'll be fun!"

Namjoon and Yoongi exchanged glances, also hesitant but willing to go along. "As long as we get there," Yoongi muttered, sliding into the back seat, followed by a silent Namjoon.

You climbed into the passenger seat, buckling in while feeling the weight of the unspoken tension in the car. Yeonjun's usual playful demeanor was slightly subdued as he started driving, and the ride to Hoseok's house was filled with polite conversation and forced laughter, rather than the easy banter you were used to. You wore a black bikini, but covered it up with an orange Hawaiian shirt and short shorts. Despite the cover-up, your cleavage was noticeable, and you couldn't help but feel the eyes of Yeonjun, Namjoon, and Yoongi lingering on you throughout the ride when you’d turn to talk to them.

Upon arriving, Hoseok's backyard was already buzzing with commotion. The smell of grilled meats and the sound of upbeat music filled the air. Hoseok, busy DJ-ing, was nodding to the beat of the music ashis hands deftly adjusted the controls. His parents and sister were in Korea for the month, so he had the house to himself, which meant the party was full of his college friends and alcohol, adding to the lively atmosphere.

Jungkook was the first to greet you, his smile wide and welcoming. "Hey! You’re here!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a quick hug.

“Of course! Would never miss Hoseok’s party!” you replied, feeling the party’s energy start to lift your spirits.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jin soon followed, each offering their own warm greetings. “Looking good,” Taehyung said, eyeing your outfit with a grin.

"You’re playing with fire Tae, but thanks," you replied, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as you noticed him and the others sneaking glances at your attire.

Jimin laughed, clapping Yeonjun on the back. "Nice of you to bring our girl here safely."

"Our–?” Yeonjun said out loud without realizing, before he corrected himself. “Uh well, yeah, anything for her," Yeonjun said, his tone sounded off, but you didn’t try to think much of it.

The backyard was a lively scene, reminiscent of a typical college Fourth of July party. Brightly colored pool floats bobbed on the surface of the pool, people splashing and playing in the water. Tables were laden with a variety of foods: burgers, hot dogs, assorted fruits, and bowls of chips. Red, white, and blue decorations were everywhere, from streamers hanging from the porch to patriotic-themed tablecloths. Jungkook said he and Taehyung did most of the decor work.

People milled about, chatting, laughing, and dancing to the music Hoseok was mixing. Solo cups filled with various drinks were scattered around, and a beer pong table was set up near the garage, already attracting a competitive crowd.

"Grab a plate, y’all!" Taehyung called, waving you over to the food table.

As you approached, you noticed Yoongi and Namjoon heading straight for the grill, where Jin had gone back to. They started joking around with Jin, who was manning the grill, and soon the three of them were engaged in a playful banter about how Jin is so dad-like at times. Jin offered them some cold beers and they cracked them open.

Meanwhile, you filled your plate with a burger and some snacks and found a spot under a large umbrella with Yeonjun. He sat close enough that your knees touched under the table, and you could feel his gaze linger on you from time to time, sending shivers down your spine despite the warm summer air.

Sometimes, you wondered how Yeonjun felt being brought into this whole new world of yours. You were used to him hanging out with Soobin and Mark, and some of his other boys you realize you hadn’t met. And girls too. People from his dance community. You would like him to become friends with your friends, but does he feel uncomfortable here? You honestly don’t know deeply of his dating history to gauge how things must’ve been in the past for him. You turned to look at him, typing away on his phone.

“How are you liking the party?” You ask him, words leaving your mouth slowly. “It’s great.” He says simply, which makes you internally sigh in relief. “You truly have an interesting friend group, Princess.” He chuckles as he observes your friends playing an intense game of ninja across you two.

“I’m honestly not sure how I got stuck with these eggheads, but at least it’s been getting me out of the house and doing something for the last couple of years.” You respond, looking at the guys back.

The party continued to ramp up, with more people showing up, some familiar faces, as the day went on. Music filled the air, laughter was everywhere, and the smell of delicious food wafted through the yard. Hoseok, in his element, kept the energy high with his DJ skills, creating a festive atmosphere. You sit poolside, feet dipped in the water while watching your boyfriend and friends in the pool. Jungkook had convince Yeonjun to join them, which made him open up a bit than earlier,

"You’re not coming in the pool, Tiny?" Namjoon asked, nudging you slightly.

"Mmm," you replied with a coy smile. "Depends if I get a good enough reason to. Otherwise, I’ll chill here." "Oh? We'll give you plenty of reasons."

Just then, Jimin swam over with a mischievous grin. "You know, it's not a real pool party unless everyone's in the pool," he said.

Before you could react, Namjoon and Jimin each grabbed one of your arms. "Hey! Wait!" you squealed, but it was too late. They pulled you into the pool with a big splash.

You resurfaced, pushing your wet hair out of your face. The guys laughed, making you huff. "You guys are the worst!" you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

Yeonjun was about to swim over towards you, until Yoongi beat him to it, “Are you good, Y/N?”

You turned to see Yoongi offering you a hand. "Yeah, I'm okay!" you replied, reaching out to take his hand. With his help, you pulled yourself up to the edge of the pool, sitting there once again with your feet in the water.

"Thanks, Yoongs," you said, giving Yoongi a grateful smile. He nodded, his expression softening as he looked at you.

"No problem," he replied, his tone gentle. "Just making sure you're okay."

As you chatted with Yoongi, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering Yeonjun as he stood in the pool with the others. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of uncertainty that you couldn't quite place.

You caught his gaze for a moment, and you could sense a fear lingering in the pit of his stomach, something he couldn't find the courage to voice. It made you wonder what was going through his mind, what thoughts were swirling beneath that calm exterior he often wore.

Despite your curiosity, you didn't push him to share. Instead, you offered him a reassuring smile, hoping to convey that you were there for him if he ever needed to talk.

As the night wore on and darkness settled over the neighborhood, the sky erupted in bursts of color and light as fireworks filled the air. You and the guys gathered in the driveway, lighting sparklers and watching in awe as the vibrant displays lit up the night.

Yeonjun draped his arm around you, pulling you close as you both gazed up at the dazzling spectacle above. The warmth of his touch and the closeness between you brought a sense of comfort, momentarily easing the worries that had been nagging at you earlier.

As you and Yeonjun watched the fireworks together, he leaned in close, his voice low and smug over the noise of the festivities.

"These fireworks are pretty impressive," he remarked, his eyes flickering with amusement as he looked up at the sky. “Illegal though, but beautiful.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his teasing tone. "Ha, well I think they’re okay, I guess," you replied, feigning nonchalance.

Yeonjun chuckled, his arm sliding casually around your waist. "Just okay? Come on, Y/N. They’re just as pretty as you."

You couldn't help but laugh at his flirty comment, feeling a warm flush spread across your cheeks. "You’re such a smooth talker, aren't you?" you teased, nudging him playfully with your shoulder.

He flashed you a cocky grin, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of mischief. "Hey, when you've got it, flaunt it," he quipped, his confidence shining through. Without a word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, sweet kiss. It was quick but electrifying, sending a rush of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. When you pulled away, both of you were left grinning like fools, unable to contain your laughter.

But amidst your shared moment of joy, you couldn't help but notice Yoongi's subtle glance from the side, his expression unreadable in the dim light. A fleeting observation, without time to question it more before Jin called out to you to join them in a sparkler fest.

August 18, 20XX [Friday]

More time spent together with Yeonjun continues to keep you busy throughout the summer, and progressively, you start seeing less and less of specific people. You don’t know if it’s intentional on either end, but that’s just how things have been going.

“I’m taking you to Knott’s Berry Farm.” Yeonjun says, driving and continuing to look at the road ahead of him.

The slow spiraling of thoughts scatter for a moment as your heart skips a beat at Yeonjun's announcement. Knott's Berry Farm? You hadn't been to an amusement park since the eighth-grade end-of-year trip. The memories flood back, and you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of nostalgia.

"Seriously?" you ask, unable to contain the grin spreading across your face.

Yeonjun nods, glancing at you with a playful smile. "Yep, seriously. Thought it'd be a fun way to spend the day with you. I love this place too."

You can hardly believe your luck. Knott's Berry Farm is no doubt the most fun place to be at, and with its thrilling rides, delicious food, and vibrant atmosphere, you knew it would be such a cute date to have.

As you continue down the road, you can't help but chatter excitedly about all the rides you want to go on and the treats you can't wait to try. Yeonjun listens with a smile, occasionally interjecting with his own thoughts and memories of the park from when he was in middle school as well.

You and Yeonjun wander through the park, you come across a charming merry-go-round tucked away in a corner. Yeonjun's eyes light up with excitement, and he suggests taking a ride together. You agree, feeling a flutter of anticipation as you approach the carousel.

Once seated on the colorful wooden horses, you exchange smiles and playful glances with Yeonjun as the merry-go-round begins to spin. The cheerful music fills the air, and you can't help but giggle as you rise and fall with the gentle motion of the ride.

"You’re such a kid!" Yeonjun teases, his laughter mixing with yours.

"Well, what can I say? I just want to be young forever," you reply, feeling carefree in this moment with him. You wave your arm out, feeling so free and liberated.

Is this the korean drama relationship you’ve always dreamed up. After all this time, it feels like you’ve finally achieved it. All these cute dates. A loving boyfriend who was once your academic rival. A summer romance.

Though, when you remember that it’s not just you and Yeonjun in this little world you’ve crafted together, reality hits and you recall the words that your best friends once said: “Right, but you better not leave us behind or start ignoring us for your boyfriend, alright?”

And then enters a sense of guilt and doubt you’ve felt earlier.

As the ride slows to a stop, you catch sight of Namjoon, who coincidentally is staring right at you off the ride. He’s with a group of people, you can’t tell at the moment. Your heart skips a beat, and a sudden wave of anxiety washes over you. You're not sure why you feel this way, especially around your best friends, but the thought of them seeing you with Yeonjun has progressively made you feel self-conscious. Why is this happening?

"Hey, isn't that Namjoon and the others?" Yeonjun asks, noticing your reaction.

"Yeah," you reply softly, unable to shake off the nerves.

Yeonjun looks at you with concern, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours. "Y/N, Are you okay?"

You nod, offering him a reassuring smile. "Oh, yeah. Just felt a little nauseous for a sec. Let's go say hi."

Together, you approach Namjoon who turns out to be hanging out with familiar faces like Jungkook and Jin. The other people in their party are unfamiliar to you, but you do see Namjoon’s fling and Jungkook’s fling behind him.

Unease grows, but you try to push it aside. As you greet them with a smile and introduce yourself to the unknown faces, you can't help but wonder why being with Yeonjun in front of your friends feels so daunting.

You notice Namjoon's being a bit quiet, letting Jin and Jungkook excitedly converse with Yeonjun. You feel a pang of disappointment at the lack of words from him, but you try to brush it off, not wanting to make a scene.

“Jin hyung mentioned he wanted to come to an amusement park so he dragged us–” Jungkook is smacked on the back by the older man.

“You guys wanted to come with me voluntarily! So we brought some buddies. Yoongi and the rest of the guys hate theme parks.” Jin argued back, making you giggle slightly.

Namjoon offers a half-hearted nod while Jungkook and Jin give you bright smiles. Yeonjun stands beside you, his expression unreadable as he observes the interaction.

"Do you want to join us for some rides?" Jin suggests, breaking the awkward silence. "The lines don't look too bad today. The more the merrier right?" The other guys and girls happily agree.

"Yeah! Let’s do it Y/N!" Jungkook agrees, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

You glance at Yeonjun, silently asking for his opinion. He nods in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Sure, that sounds fun.”

"Great! Which ride should we go on first?" you ask, trying to steer the conversation away from the tension that still lingers between Namjoon and Yeonjun.

As you wait in line for the Ghostrider rollercoaster, you can't shake the feeling of tension between Namjoon and Yeonjun. Namjoon stands a little too close to you, pointedly ignoring Yeonjun's attempts at conversation and even the fling he’s here with. You exchange a concerned glance with Yeonjun, but he offers you a reassuring smile, trying to brush off the awkwardness.

You enjoy the thrill of five rides together, getting to talk to some of the college friends Jin and Namjoon brought along, as well as being silly with Jungkook. He reminds you a lot of Jimin at times, and it makes you miss him. You hadn’t seen him for sometime.

Something else you’ve noticed during this little adventure is that Hyungseo has been trying to cling to Namjoon, however, he keeps kindly rejecting her advances. After some time, she sticks to a few of the other girls in the group, who she seems to gossip about you to. Jungkook’s fling (who you find out is named Tzuyu) is really kind, and probably the only girl to want to genuinely talk to you seeing how comfortable you are around Jungkook. And not in an overly-touchy way,

After all the rides, the churning sensation in your stomach becomes too much to ignore. "I'm going to grab a water," you announce to the group, nodding towards the nearby concession stand. Yeonjun, Jungkook, and Jin nod in understanding, eager to continue their adventure.

“I can come with you,” Yeonjun suggests, but you shake your head slightly.

“It’s okay, Jjunie. Go join everyone else for another ride! I want you to have fun,” you assure him with a warm smile.

“Yes, dear friend! Come join us on this quest!” Jin comments, pointing to the next ride, which looks like an insane rollercoaster.

Though he hesitates to leave you behind, he eventually nods and heads over to join Jin and the others.

As you wait in line to buy a bottle of water, Namjoon joins you, his expression unreadable. You sense his tension and decide to break the ice. "You didn’t go on the ride?” You ask.

“Nah, I’ve been feeling parched, so I wanted to grab something to drink,” he responds, his lips forming a straight line. Something is definitely amiss.

“Okay…” You reply before addressing the elephant in the room. "Hey Joonie, is everything okay?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

Namjoon hesitates for a moment before replying, "Yeah, why?" His tone is curt, and you can't help but feel a pang of annoyance.

"Namjoon, you've been acting weird towards Yeonjun all day… Plus, you aren’t hanging out with Hyungseo?" you finally confront him, unable to ignore the tension any longer. "What's going on?"

"Surprised you even remembered her name.” He chuckles “We’re just friends, nothing serious. I don’t need to be glued to her all the time.”

That sounds like a slight jab to you hanging around Yeonjun, but you’re not gonna say that.

“Ignoring my main question, I see.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Hey, I’m not being weird. I just… don't like Yeonjun, isn’t that fair to feel? I don’t trust him either."

You furrow your brows in confusion. "What do you mean? Yeonjun is my boyfriend, and he's been nothing but kind to me."

Namjoon shakes his head, his expression firm. "I know, but I’ve heard from Jimin and the shit his dance friends said. I have a bad feeling about him. I don't want to see you get hurt."

It’s actually interesting that he brings this up right now, because you realized, that despite you hanging out with Yeonjun often, you haven’t met those dance friends. You’ve talked about wanting to dance, but he says he’ll bring you there eventually.

You feel a surge of frustration at Namjoon's stubbornness. “Namjoon, I appreciate your concern, but I'm capable of making my own decisions. Yeonjun cares about me, and I trust him.” You take the time to sigh now, “Plus, How do we know that whatever rumors they say are true. Maybe it could be some jealous ex?’

Namjoon opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off, not wanting to hear any more of his unfounded suspicions. "Fine, let's just enjoy the rest of the day, okay? We can talk about this later."

“No… I want to talk about this right now. I know you, Yoongi, and Jimin might be worried that Yeonjun could be using me or even seeing someone else, but everything is going amazing right now. He’s been the sweetest boyfriend.” You sigh, feeling tears welling up in your eyes, “I just want my best friends to get along with my boyfriend. Please.”

Feeling the depth of your emotions, Namjoon's expression softens, his concern evident in his eyes. "I understand, Tiny. I'm sorry if I've made things uncomfortable," he says, his tone gentler now.

There. He says it again like he did back in June. It feels like walking on eggshells.

You nod, appreciating his willingness to listen. "It's okay, Joonie. I know you're just looking out for me," you reply, feeling some of the tension ease between you.

Namjoon lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just want what's best for you, you know? And if Yeonjun truly cares about you, then I'll do my best to support you both," he admits, his voice tinged with sincerity, but also a hint of frustration. You don’t want to comment on that. You wonder if you were in his position, would you do the same thing? Maybe.

Nonetheless, a sense of relief washes over you, grateful for Namjoon's willingness to put aside his reservations for your sake. "Thank you, Joonie. That means a lot to me," you say, offering him a small smile.

As the day comes to a close, you bid farewell to the guys, exchanging hugs and promises to hang out again soon. With Yeonjun by your side, you exit the park, the vibrant lights of the attractions fading into the distance as you make your way to his car.

The silence hangs between you for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the engine as Yeonjun starts the car. Then, breaking the quietude, Yeonjun speaks up, his voice laced with uncertainty, "Namjoon doesn't like me much, does he?"

You turn to look at him, noting the furrow in his brow and the tension in his shoulders. Sighing softly, you reach out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "No! It's not that he doesn't like you, Jjunie," you assure him, using the affectionate nickname you've grown fond of. "He's just protective of me, that's all."

Which you initially thought wasn’t the case, but with time, you’re starting to see it come out.

Yeonjun nods, though his expression remains troubled. "I get that," he replies, his gaze fixed on the road ahead and recounting the many stories of your past with Namjoon that you’ve told him. "But I want him to know that I care about you too, and that I'll do everything I can to make you happy."

You offer him a reassuring smile, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. "I know you will, Jjunie," you say, squeezing his arm gently. "And I appreciate that more than you know." Yeonjun stops at an empty parking lot by the lake park by his place just to prove this simple fact to you. You're not sure when you ended up in his lap but you can't complain as you run your fingers through the waves of his hair. Pressed up against him in such a tight space. The flurry of emotions has goosebumps raising on your skin and he pulls away, panting harshly. Your foreheads are touching as you gaze at each other.

"I still can't believe you want me," he almost laughs in disbelief. "Is this real or am I dreaming?"

"Of course, you're not dreaming. I do want you. Always have. None of your other crushes ever want you?" You roll your hips as a test and Yeonjun’s low moan of your name only amplifies your confidence. "How could they when they weren't me?"

He slides his seat back, the sudden motion causing you to slam a hand against the window to try to steady yourself and avoid throwing your weight against him. But that's exactly what he wants. Using the momentum to cup the round cheeks of your ass under your skirt, he positions you right where the tip of his hard cock pokes against his jeans. You can feel him through the thin piece of fabric that is your already ruined panties.

"You're so wet, baby," he murmurs against your lips. "All for me, yeah? No one else, no other guy could soak your pussy like me, right?"

Even if it was a lie (which it wasn't), you can only agree because Yeonjun doesn't move an inch until a resounding yes leaves your lips. It's another scrambled blur as you fight to undo his belt and pull his jeans in the small space you have.

Just like your love for him.

You let out a relieved sigh when his cock is in your hand and Yeonjun moans, throwing his head back. You'd moved down a bit so you could jerk him off easier, giggling at how he twitches when he feels the heat of your pulsating cunt leaking all over his thigh.

Then, once prepped, Yeonjun slides your panties to the side and prepares to roll a condom down on his length. He lets his head fall forehead and softly bumps your forehead with his as you attempt to sink down on his dick. He keeps his fingers splayed across both of your hips, bunching up the fabric of your short skirt so he can watch the way your puffy pussy lips part and wrap around the tip of his thick, hard cock.

And then eventually, after a series of thrusts, rolls, and moans of “jjunie” and “princess”, you both reach orgasm.

Yes, this is the world you want to stay in. You don’t want this to end.

August 21st, 20XX [Monday]

The faint sounds of a video game’s battle music filled Yoongi’s living room, but none of the guys were paying attention. The controllers lay discarded on the couch, forgotten as they discussed a far more pressing issue.

"I feel like I'm gonna lose my mind," Namjoon groaned, throwing an arm over his face as he leaned back on the couch, staring blankly up at the ceiling. His frustration hanged in the air.

“Well, what can you do? She loves the guy and he seems to love her. We just gotta let them be.” Yoongi muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Yeah, and I found out that guy is really just a total dick! Are you really just going to ‘let them be’ while knowing that?” Jimin snapped from the other side of the room, his voice sharp with disbelief.

Taehyung, perched on the edge of the couch, chimed in, his tone more neutral. "Come on, he can't be that bad." He glanced at Hoseok, who nodded thoughtfully in agreement. Jimin, however, was having none of it. "Oh, he's that bad," he insisted, leaning forward with an intensity that had everyone’s attention. "Some of my dancer mutuals told me Yeonjun was completely head over heels for Y/N, but suddenly he's been cozying up to some of the college freshmen girls who just moved into the city for university. They go to the same dance center he trains at. If that doesn’t say something about him and a change in behavior, I don’t know what will."

"Maybe he's just being friendly?" Taehyung suggested, elbowing Jimin playfully. "Isn't he like that? Aren't you like that?"

Jimin shot him a glare, clearly annoyed. "You see, compared to me, I don’t act all friendly and even touchy with other people, especially girls, while I’m dating someone. That’s making it seem like I’m not interested in my partner, which is what Yeonjun’s showing.” “I thought you guys collectively agreed you wouldn't care about who she was seeing and wouldn't let it get in the way of your lives,” Hoseok pointed out, his voice calm but firm.

The pact. Jimin, Yoongi and Namjoon made that to not let their feelings get in the way of your friendship with them, but they would also try to continue to support you in dating another man, even if it wasn’t them.

Emphasis on “try”, it wasn’t working. Hoseok had heard about this pact, but the other guys don’t know the details or extent of everything.

"I mean, we tried," Namjoon admitted with a heavy sigh, dragging his hand down his face. "But how can we just sit back and let this happen when we know he's... he's not good for her? She deserves better."

Yoongi's fingers drummed absentmindedly on his knee, his usually calm demeanor cracking ever so slightly. "Hoseok's right, though. We said we wouldn’t let this ruin things. But watching her with him? It’s harder than I thought. We don’t even talk to her as much as we used to. Even college had me feeling distanced."

Jimin threw his phone at the floor in frustration, stuttering. "B-But If Yeonjun’s messing around behind her back, we can’t just sit here and do nothing!"

The room fell into a heavy silence. Even the game’s background music seemed to fade into the distance. It was clear that the pact, once meant to protect their friendship and their feelings for you, was now a source of inner conflict when you’re with someone else.

Hoseok, who hadn’t been as deeply involved in the situation, finally spoke up. "So, what are you guys gonna do? Intervene and risk her getting mad at you all, or let it play out and see if she figures it out on her own?"

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with an emotion none of them could name. Deep down, he knew the answer to that question. And it wasn’t going to be easy.

Namjoon, staring at the ceiling again, said quietly, “Maybe Hoseok’s right. We’re the ones who need to figure out what we’re doing—before we lose her entirely. Let’s just let her be.” Yoongi and Jimin exchanged pained glances, both struggling to accept the decision they knew they had to make. Despite the knot tightening in their chests, it was clear that the only path left was to respect your choices. You seem to trust Yeonjun and Yeonjun seems to do that too, however with time, people’s true colors start to bleed through like the pages written in Sharpie ink.

It’s only a matter of time before you’d see it too. That despite getting closer to Yeonjun, his spark would eventually flicker and dim.

And that’s what happened.

September 10, 20XX [Sunday]

Yeonjun drove you to campus for move-in day, his car filled to the brim with boxes filled with your things to move into college. Despite the conversations and silly banter you had with him throughout the two hour car ride to campus, something felt off about him. You couldn’t pin point it. Maybe he’s sad that you’re going to be apart for sometime? But his school is still relatively close enough for you to hang out on weekends. He’s being allowed to take his car to campus, so lucky of him.

For the stuff that didn’t fit in his car, you kindly begged Yoongi to add to his car filled with Jimin’s stuff. And he kindly allowed it. A win for you!

You think back to when Yoongi arrived at your house to pick up your stuff, it had been the first time you saw him in over a month. He had cut his hair, styled it differently from the usually bowl cut style he’d sport. He looked… good.

Jimin had the longer bowl cut look, which he sat in the box trying to not get crushed by boxes. Namjoon stepped into the passenger seat, his hair short as well. It felt relieving to see them alive and well after some time. You hadn’t seen Namjoon since the amusement park date.

You’d thought you’d get to see them more often, but good thing is that you’ll be at the same school again.

“Thank you guys for helping Jimin and me move into our dorm,” you chirped, flashing a grin as you gave Namjoon and Yoongi a playful pat on the back. You walked beside them, rolling up a cart piled high with a ridiculous amount of boxes.

“Anytime, just for you,” Yoongi sang in his usual deadpan way, though the small smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

Namjoon chuckled, glancing over at the mountain of stuff. “You sure this is everything? Feels like you packed your whole life.”

You shrugged, grinning. "Gotta be prepared for anything."

Yoongi nods, smirking as he adds, “Yeah, just don’t forget who helped when it’s time to hang stuff up.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Don’t worry, I’ll keep that in mind. Decorating party at my place later, right?"

The campus had mostly quieted down by the afternoon, some students already attending some of the orientation/back to school festivities. Most of the freshmen had already moved in that morning, leaving the dorm halls a lot less chaotic. Jimin, who had been assigned to the same building as you but lived four doors down the hall, had already unpacked most of his things earlier. Yoongi and Namjoon, being sophomores, had moved into their dorm across the quad the day before, making them more than willing to lend a hand.

As you all approach the open door to your dorm, you see Yeonjun inside, standing in front of your roommate’s side of the room, helping unpack some things. His face brightens when he spots you. “Hey, Princess,” he greeted with a charming smile, lifting a small stack of books. “Where do you want these?”

You paused for a second, feeling your heart skip a beat at the sight of him in your space. "Oh, just put them on the desk for now," you said, trying to sound nonchalant as you wheeled the cart in.

Yoongi, walking in behind you, exchanged a glance with Namjoon. They didn’t say anything, but the tension was palpable. You could feel it hanging in the air between them and Yeonjun, though neither had the courage—or the willingness—to voice whatever was on their minds.

Jimin entered your room after finishing unpacking the major things he had boxed up in his dorm room, "Still can't believe we're neighbors now. You'll be crashing at my place in no time."

You laugh softly and punch his arm lightly. "We’ll see about that."

Namjoon, with his typical smirk, adds, "Don't let her get too comfortable, Jimin. She might just never leave."

“Haha, as if. I’ll be fine in the comfort of my own hut here, once I get everything set up, that is.”

As everyone helped unpack, the awkwardness lingered, though Yoongi and Namjoon seemed to make an effort to push through it. You couldn't help but notice their eyes occasionally flitting toward Yeonjun, especially when he got too close to you. And while Yeonjun remained his usual confident self, you couldn’t shake the feeling that even he sensed the underlying tension.

After a while, Yoongi cleared his throat. “Alright, I think we’ve done our part. Plus, I’m hungry. You guys want anything for a late lunch? I’ll go with Namjoon and bring it over to eat here.”

“Are you getting it from the dining hall or off campus?”

Namjoon chuckled. “We’ve got a Pizza My Heart right across the street at the university town center. I don’t think we should subject you to dining hall hell yet.”

You laughed. “Fair! Just get me whatever looks good, as long as it doesn’t have olives.”

“Okay, princess,” Yoongi teased sarcastically, earning a laugh from everyone—well, except Yeonjun, whose expression was unreadable.

“We’ll be back soon,” Yoongi added as he stood up, nudging Namjoon to follow.

Jimin stood up as well, stretching his arms. “I’m gonna be back. I need to grab my MacBook charger from Jungkook. He’s on the first floor.”

You nodded, “Alright, see you soon.”

As the others left, you were left alone with Yeonjun, and suddenly the room felt a bit quieter. You could sense the shift in the air, but decided not to address it yet. Instead, you turned to him and smiled. “Thanks again for all the help today.”

He smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, anything for you."

After setting up the bedding, you sat on your bed, cross-legged, while Yeonjun at on the floor, scrolling through his phone before going back to taking things out of your boxes. The energy in the room was quieter, almost unsettling, and even though nothing had really happened, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt… off. Maybe it was how distant Yeonjun had been, or how little he’d said since Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin left.

“So, are you going to rush for a frat?” you asked, trying to cut through the awkwardness in the air. He’d mentioned it before as a joke, but now that school was starting, you wonder if he was seriously considering it.

Yeonjun shrugged. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, some of the guys I know are rushing, so it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”

You smiled, though it felt forced. “That's cool. I guess it’s like… a built-in social life, huh?”

“Yeah, and the connections, I heard, could be good for internships or something. I don’t know much yet, but I’ll figure it out,” he replied, his voice sounding unusually flat.

You shifted, adjusting the pillow behind your back. “I was looking into joining some clubs too. There's the Korean Student Association and Intramural Volleyball club that sound fun, and there’s also this creative collective for business students interested in marketing and branding. I think it could be a great way to meet people and maybe do something more hands-on.”

Yeonjun nodded, but you noticed his attention was drifting, like he wasn’t really invested in the conversation. That was when you felt the first pang of unease. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it was just nerves from the whole “new chapter” thing.

“So, what do you think? Should I go for all? I know it’s a lot, but I kind of want to try everything.”

Yeonjun glanced up at you, meeting your eyes for a split second before looking away again. His jaw tightened a little, and there was this flicker of something in his expression—something you couldn’t quite read. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he said, his voice strained, like he was forcing himself to sound supportive. “It’s… it’s really great that you’re finding your path.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, sensing the shift. He wasn’t being weird, not exactly, but something in his tone wasn’t right. It was like he was holding back. You weren’t sure whether to push him or let it go, but the knot in your stomach only grew tighter.

“Yeonjun, is everything good? You seem a little... off.” You laughed lightly, hoping to ease whatever tension was in the air.

He let out a slow breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "I’ve just been thinking about some stuff.”

Oh.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like…” His voice trailed off, the words hanging in the air between you. The pause felt longer than it should have, and your pulse quickened.

He stood up from where he’d been sitting on the floor, crossing his arms as he looked at you—really looked at you—like he was trying to brace himself for whatever he was about to say.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, and the dread that had been quietly bubbling up inside you suddenly spiked.

“Y/N…" His voice was serious, and when his eyes met yours, they didn’t hold the warmth you were used to. Instead, they were cold, distant, like he was already somewhere else. “Let’s break up.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, trying to process the words that had come out of his mouth. Did he really just say what you thought he said? “…What?”

“I think we should break up,” he repeated, this time with more conviction, like he’d already made the decision long before this moment. His tone was so matter-of-fact, so detached, it almost didn’t feel real.

You blinked, frozen in place. Your brain was scrambling to catch up to the situation, but all you could do was stare at him, disbelief washing over you. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not like this. You had just been talking about school, about clubs, about the future—things that felt exciting. You’ve been dating all summer, and you were about to start a new chapter together after years of being rivals. And now, just like that, he was ending it?

“Yeonjun…” you finally managed to say, your voice quiet and shaky. “Where is this coming from? We were just—everything was fine…”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Y/N. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, I just didn’t know how to bring it up. We’re going to college, we’re going to meet new people… things are gonna change.”

His words hit you like a punch in the gut. “So… that’s it? You’ve been thinking about it for a while, and now you just… drop this on me? In the middle of you helping me move in to my dorm? Right before I start my first day of college tomorrow”

Yeonjun didn’t look at you, his jaw tightening as he stood there, silent. It was clear he had made up his mind, but that didn’t stop the confusion and hurt from flooding you.

Yeonjun looked down, avoiding your gaze. "I’m sorry, Y/N," he finally muttered, his voice soft but resolute.

You watched as he turned toward the door, his hands slipping into his pockets as if he’d already checked out of this moment. He was leaving. He was actually walking away.

You got off your bed, wanting to chase after him, hoping to somehow find out the real reason why. What he said can’t be the answer!

However, because you were sitting cross-legged, your legs had fallen asleep, causing you to stumble and fall to the carpeted floor. You groan from the sudden contact, fists balling up.

“...After everything, you’re just gonna walk away, Yeonjun?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, a mix of anger and heartbreak clawing at your chest.

Yeonjun paused for a moment at the door but didn’t turn around. The silence felt crushing, like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving only the hollow space between you. He didn’t say anything, just opened the door and stepped out, leaving you sitting there in a daze.

Namjoon and Yoongi walked back into your dorm building after someone from inside buzzed them in. Each of them held a pizza box from Pizza My Heart, the one right across the street, with paper plates tucked under one arm and little packets of crushed red pepper and parmesan balanced on top. They were deep in conversation about Yoongi's music, as usual.

"I’m kinda jealous," Namjoon admitted, balancing the pizzas as they headed up the stairs. "You get to fully dive into that and make it your thing. Already producing amazing music at your age too. I don’t even know what my thing is yet."

Yoongi had been producing tracks for people on a freelance basis, just because he fell in love with it. Thanks to you encouraging him in the past. Namjoon had wanted to do a similar thing, however, he doesn’t think he could be as great at Yoongi. Plus there were other things he wanted to do on his mind.

Yoongi shrugged, his casual confidence showing through. "You’ll figure it out, man. You’ve got time. It’s not like everything’s set in stone."

Namjoon let out a soft chuckle, but it was tinged with uncertainty. "I’m leaning toward doing work in writing or art conservation… I just love how it connects culture and history, you know? But I’m majoring in polisci like my mom wanted. It feels more... secure, I guess. Something to lean on if I don’t find my footing elsewhere."

Yoongi nodded, understanding but focused. "That makes sense. You're always reading up on political theory in your free time, so it’s not like it’s a waste either."

As they climbed the stairs, they reached the hallway leading to your dorm when Namjoon noticed Yeonjun walking in the opposite direction, clearly in a hurry. Something about his rushed pace felt… wrong. Instinctively, Namjoon called out, "Yo, Yeonjun!"

But Yeonjun kept moving, not even glancing in their direction. He usually wasn’t the most chatty guy around Namjoon, but he always acknowledged him. This time? Nothing.

"That’s weird," Namjoon muttered, looking over at Yoongi, who was already watching him with raised eyebrows. Yoongi sensed it too—something was off.

They quickened their pace toward your dorm room. As they approached, they saw that the door was slightly ajar. Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat, his fingers tightening on the pizza boxes. Why was the door open?

Pushing the door open, they stepped inside and immediately froze.

You were sitting on the floor, devastation clear in your eyes. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn’t make a sound. Your arms were limp, hands resting on your lap, and your eyes stared blankly ahead, as if everything around you had collapsed in that moment.

Namjoon’s heart sank to the floor, the pizza boxes feeling like dead weight in his hands. He didn’t need an explanation to understand what had just happened, but Yoongi was the one to break the heavy silence. “What… happened?” Yoongi’s voice was low and careful, as if even asking might shatter the fragile state you were in.

You didn’t look up, but your voice came out, flat and hollow. "He broke up with me."

Namjoon’s breath hitched. That was all you needed to say. He immediately set the pizza boxes down, shoving them into Yoongi’s arms without a word and rushed out of the room, determination in his steps.

What the hell, Yeonjun? Namjoon thought as he bolted down the hall. His mind raced, a mixture of anger and disbelief bubbling up inside him. How could you just do that? Out of nowhere?

Namjoon reached the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time as his thoughts continued to swirl. He barely registered his surroundings as he burst through the door and out into the parking lot, scanning the area for any sign of Yeonjun.

But he was already gone.

Namjoon stood there, breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His mind replayed the sight of you on the floor, shattered, and the empty hallway where Yeonjun had disappeared. He cursed under his breath, staring out into the empty parking lot, feeling utterly helpless.

Upon returning to your dorm, Namjoon stepped inside to find you crumpled against Yoongi’s shoulder, your sobs tearing through the quiet room. Yoongi sat there, his arm around you, giving gentle, soothing pats on your back. His expression was calm, but his eyes were clouded with concern

Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung had shown up, standing a few feet away, clearly unsure of how to approach the situation. They exchanged worried glances, but didn’t dare say anything, afraid to make things worse.

Namjoon stood there for a moment, running a hand through his hair in frustration before speaking. “He’s gone,” he said flatly, his voice carrying the weight of disappointment and anger.

You didn’t even look up. Your voice, fragile and broken, managed to slip through the tears. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. Namjoon could hear it in the way your voice cracked, in the way your body trembled against Yoongi. The room was silent, save for your quiet sobs, and the tension hung heavily between all of you.

Jimin stepped forward, kneeling down next to you. "Hey," he said softly, his tone as gentle as he could muster. "We’re here. You don’t have to go through this alone, alright?"

Taehyung, standing behind Jimin, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve got us now too.” He referred to him, Jungkook, Hoseok and Seokjin. “Whatever you need, just say the word.”

"Should we go hunt Yeonjun down and beat the shit out of him?" Jungkook chimes in, his tone was both serious and protective. “Namjoon hyung and I will take care of it!”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, momentarily startled by the boldness, but the hint of anger in his eyes showed he wasn’t entirely against the idea. “It wouldn’t be that hard to find him, right?” he added, cracking his knuckles.

A part of you almost wanted to say yes, let them go after him. Let someone else feel this rage, this betrayal, the way you were feeling it now. But would it fix anything? The thought of them confronting Yeonjun, of this turning into something more, twisted in your stomach. You didn’t want that kind of drama. You didn’t want to give Yeonjun the satisfaction of knowing he’d affected you this deeply.

“As satisfying as that might sound, we probably shouldn’t resort to violence.” Jimin glanced at you, his soft gaze almost apologetic, as if he knew this was far from enough to make up for what just happened.

A small, dry laugh escaped your lips, surprising even yourself. “I don’t think beating him up will change anything. But… I appreciate the thought.”

You were trying to keep it together, but every breath felt heavier than the last. There was a numbness creeping into your limbs, a strange feeling of disassociation. Like you were watching everything from the outside, seeing your friends rally around you, but not fully present in your own skin. How did it get to this point? Just hours ago, everything seemed okay. You'd laughed with Yeonjun, talked about plans with your best friends, even looked forward to your classes... and then, out of nowhere, he tore everything apart.

Jungkook still looked like he was ready to throw down. “It’s not fair that he just walks away like that! You deserve better!”

Better. You nodded slowly, the reality of the situation starting to sink in. You did deserve better, didn’t you? But for some reason, it felt like you couldn’t quite believe it. Like a part of you was still stuck on the idea that maybe you’d done something wrong, that you weren’t enough. You shook off the thought before it could take root. “I know. It just… hurts.”

It really does.

Yoongi’s hand stayed firm on your shoulder, grounding you. “You’ve got us. That’s what matters right now.”

Namjoon sighed, letting go of some of the anger building up inside him. “We’ll handle Yeonjun another way if we need to,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “But for now, let’s focus on getting you through this.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. They were trying so hard to help you, to lift you up, and you appreciated it more than you could ever say. But even with their support, there was an ache inside you that you couldn’t shake. A part of you felt so small, so foolish, for letting Yeonjun in just for him to leave like this.

Jimin and Taehyung, sensing the heavy atmosphere, suggested playing games or heading over to Hoseok and Seokjin’s off-campus rental to distract you. They were trying to lift the mood, and though you appreciated their efforts, you weren’t quite up for it. You mustered a small smile, grateful for how much they cared, but the weight of your heartbreak still anchored you. The thought of how lucky you were to have them by your side helped, but it didn’t ease the pain completely.

As the afternoon slowly bled into the evening, you left the dorm with your friends to explore the campus before classes began the next day. You did your best to seem like you were okay, like crying it out and eating pizza had made you feel better. But even though you laughed at their jokes and joined in the conversation, you couldn’t fool them. They knew you were struggling beneath the surface.

In the days that followed, despite the distraction of your new routine, the heartache lingered like a dull ache. You kept busy, throwing yourself into unpacking, attending orientation events, and exploring the campus with your friends. But no matter how much you tried to move on, Yeonjun's sudden departure haunted you, lingering in your thoughts when you least expected it. Even surrounded by friends and laughter, there was always a hollow space where he used to be.

You tried to shake it off, but the sadness crept in, even more as classes started and the reality of college life sank in. You knew it would take time, but for now, pretending to be fine was the best you could do.

Your first year of college was supposed to be exciting, but much of it blurred together, like walking through a fog. The daily routines, classes, and dorm life all seemed to meld into one long stretch of time, where the only thing that truly stood out were small, vivid memories—those moments where everything suddenly felt in color. One of those was the day you met Ahn Hyejin, known around campus as Hwasa. It was a week into the semester when you finally worked up the courage to go to the Fall Club Fair and join a club. The guys wanted you to go check it out, hoping this would get you out of your daze. And it kinda did help.

You’ve never had a female close friend before. Usually girls would steer clear of you out of jealousy for being friends with Namjoon, Yoongi and Jimin.

However, Hwasa was different. Hwasa was bold, unafraid to speak her mind, and had a way of making you feel like you were exactly where you needed to be. She didn’t care about the other guys, as she also had close guy friends too. She quickly became the friend you didn’t realize you needed. With her, you started feeling more like yourself again. Together, you explored the campus, hit up the best food spots, and even talked about bigger things, like what you wanted from life and what it meant to start fresh. Each step forward was a tiny rebellion against the lingering thoughts of Yeonjun.

Bit by bit, you immersed yourself in college life, finding comfort in new experiences, distractions, and laughter. Parties. Maybe a little bit of underage drinking in moderation, of course. Slowly, the weight of that breakup lifted, and you began to focus on your future, your passions, and the friends who were always there for you. In time, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, and the rest of the group became even more important to you. Their support, the inside jokes, and all the moments shared together filled the spaces that had once been occupied by the pain of Yeonjun leaving.

One afternoon in late spring, you found yourself sitting on the campus lawn with Yoongi, watching one of Yoongi’s band friends perform at the Spring Fling. Students sit around you two, while a gentle breeze swept through the budding trees. He was fixing the strings on his guitar, which he recently started to learn to play. He was lost in thought as usual, while you sat beside him, enjoying music and the warmth of the sun on your skin.

“You’ve changed,” he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You turned to look at him, a bit surprised by the observation. “In what way?”

He glanced up from his guitar, his eyes soft but serious. “I don’t know... you just seem lighter. More like yourself again.”

You smiled, feeling the weight of his words. “Is that so? I think I’m finally starting to let that thing go.”

Yoongi nodded, strumming another chord. “It’s good to see. We were all worried for a while... after Yeonjun.”

At the mention of his name, you expected to feel that familiar sting, the one that usually sat in your chest whenever you thought about him. But this time, it wasn’t as sharp. “Yeah,” you murmured, looking down at your hands, “I was a mess for a while, but that’s life. I thought the relationship meant something bigger, but ”

“You weren’t a mess,” Yoongi corrected, his voice calm and measured, “you were healing.”

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. Healing. That’s exactly what it was. Slowly but surely, piece by piece, you were putting yourself back together. And in that moment, sitting beside Yoongi on the grass, watching the band play, you realized just how far you’d come. The fog had started to lift.

Spring had a way of bringing new beginnings, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were ready for yours.

But that was just the beginning of another story—the one you wouldn’t fully understand until much later.

–

A/N: thank you for reading! if you're be interested, please check out my 'love u lately' series focused on Yoongi x Namjoon x Jimin x Reader. happy yeonjun day!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ love u lately series masterlist

#yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x y/n #txt x reader #txt imagines #bts fic #bts #txt smut #txt scenarios #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #jimin x reader #love u lately #love u lately masterlist #lul #yoonminjoon #tomorrow x together #smut #la la lost you

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inkedbydesire · 1 month ago

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Love On The Brain Pt 1 (18+)

Jimmy Uso x Black Fem OC

Warning: 18+ Content, sexual language, MINORS DO NOT ENTER

Summary: Somewhere between his irresistible smile, cheesy jokes, and mind-numbing sex, Navae's five-month whirlwind with Jonathan Fatu had turned her into that friend (the one the group chat secretly dragged behind her back). So wrapped up in her situationship, Navae didn't even notice how often she was flaking on plans, showing up late, ducking out early, or not showing up at all. It wasn't like her, and her friends noticed. Convinced Jonathan was the root of the problem, they staged a full-blown friendtervention. After being called out for trading in her day ones for a man she barely knew, Navae knew she had to make a change and fast. So when girls' weekend rolled around again, she vowed to be fully present and accounted for. Nothing was going to stop her from walking out her front door ….. except, of course, the case of her missing keys.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Another one for Jimmy cause he’s sorta kinda my muse. Sorry for yapping but I can’t write any form of smut without giving them a reason for humping on each other (my bad 😂). But majority of the smut will be in Part 2. This is mainly just setting the scene. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors or typos.

*************************************************

"Bitch I swear if you don't make it tonight we're cutting you off."

Toni's words came out jokingly, but Navae couldn't help but feel the underlying seriousness. Especially after the impromptu "friendtervention" she endured last week. She wasn't used to being on the receiving end of those things. Normally, she was the one staging the interventions, hoping to reel a straying girlfriend back to herself. So imagine her shock when Toni, Lauryn, and Kaci pulled up to her apartment and sat her down like she was the star of an A&E special and told her they were officially fed up with her shenanigans. For the first time in over five years of friendship, they had a real issue with her. And the issue had a name: Jonathan Fatu.

"He got you acting different."

Navae could still hear the way Toni said it, her nose scrunched in disapproval. Kaci and Lauryn stationed beside her, nodding in silent agreement. And then came the list. They pointed out a record of missed Sunday brunches, flaked plans, and early exits from girls' nights. Traditions Navae used to ride hard for, tossed aside the minute Jonathan called or texted. And so on and so forth.

With everything laid out in front of her, Navae had no choice but to face reality. Her girls had good reason to feel a certain way towards her. It was like she had been in a dark room for the last few months and somebody had finally opened a window. What was on the outside wasn't all that pretty.

Navae instantly realized that she didn't want to be that girl. The one losing herself in a man and neglecting her friendships. She especially didn't want to be that girl for a man she didn't have a solid commitment with because it had only been a handful of months since he entered her life.

Seeing no point in arguing against her girls, Navae only promised to do better, which is why making it to their favorite hangout spot tonight was a must. She had to prove to them and herself that Jonathan didn't have her mind completely gone. Okay... maybe he had her a little ditzy, but she was still in control.

Right?

"Toni, relax. I will be there. I'm literally doing my hair right now, and I will be heading out in another 20 to 25 minutes," Navae stated as she used her curling iron to bring volume back to her hair.

"Alright, Navae," Toni responded in a doubtful tone that slightly hurt Navae's feelings, but she quickly pushed it aside. She just had to prove her wrong. Once Toni was off her line, Navae resumed the Spotify playlist that had been entertaining her while she was getting ready.

"Baby it's you, you're the one I love, you're the one I need, you're the only one I see," Navae's voice was like nails on a chalkboard as she sang along with Beyoncé while finger-combing her curls into the desired direction. Just as she grabbed a handful of hair and tossed it over her shoulder, checking herself out, Jonathan appeared in the doorway of the bathroom.

"Damn, I thought somebody was back here killing a cat," he joked, leaning against the doorframe and watching her through the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

"Hardy har har," Navae shot back with a playful eye roll.

"Go find somebody to play with, Jonathan," she added as she shifted her focus back on her hair, attempting to dismiss him while pretending his presence didn't affect her.

Jonathan didn't like that. He was well aware of the hold he had on her because it was the same hold he felt she had on him.

He stepped closer, slid behind her, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I wanna play with you," he stated as he rested his chin on her shoulder. The air in the bathroom thickened. Navae knew he meant that in more ways than one. Déjà vu hit her like a tidal wave as their eyes locked through the glass. Suddenly, her mind went back to their very first encounter.

It was at the birthday bash of a friend of a friend. Kaci knew the guy and thought it would be fun, so everyone tagged along. Thirty minutes after arriving with her girls, Navae started getting the eerie feeling that she was being watched. She tried ignoring it at first, but she couldn't shake it, so she scanned the party. It didn't take her long to spot him. He was standing across the room with a group of what she assumed were his friends. They were laughing and talking around him, but his eyes were deadlocked on her. And when she caught him staring, there was zero shame in his game. He didn't look away. He just kept on watching.

Typically, Navae would be annoyed by someone, especially a man, eyeing her like she was the last source of food on the planet, but she didn't mind it once she got a good look at him. Damn is all she could repeat in her head because she couldn't pull out an adjective strong enough to describe him. Her eyes traveled from the fitted cap on his head down to the clean white Air Force 1's on his feet. Now she was the one eyeing him like she wanted to take a bite.

And maybe she did.

It was the Hennessy she had been sipping since arrival that made her bold enough to walk up to him. She pulled him aside from his friends and asked him what he was looking at.

When all he did was smile, flashing the grill he was sporting at her, Navae didn't know to what extent just yet, but she was already a goner.

One thing led to another, and before the night was over, she found herself ducked off in a bathroom with him so deep inside of her you would've thought they were long-lost lovers, not two people who had just met that night. Even to this day, when Navae closed her eyes, she could still feel his breath against her ear as he repeatedly praised her for how wet she was and how good she was taking him.

She was a complete stranger, but he was in her ear, guiding her like they had known each other in a past life.

Navae didn't partake in many one-night stands. In fact, her encounter with Jonathan was only the second time she allowed herself to be that adventurous. She didn't know what it was about him that made her throw caution to the wind, but she was glad she did.

What transpired between her and him wasn't supposed to go past that night, though. They were supposed to part ways and never see each other again. But what happened in that bathroom was so electrifying that they ended up exchanging numbers, with Jonathan promising Navae that she hadn't seen nothing yet. He told her to just wait until he could really take his time with her. Navae found herself anticipating the hell out of it.

They talked for about a week before making plans to see each other again. Now, Navae wasn't a stranger to sex at all and had a few different sexual encounters with a couple of men. So, of course, part of her went into the night with Jonathan thinking some of it was just him talking himself up. She had a few dudes say what they would or could do, yet she was left basically unfulfilled. So she wasn't expecting anything above what she and Jonathan shared in that bathroom. That wasn't a bad thing, though, because it was a great experience.

But Jesus, did Jonathan live up to his words and a whole lot more. Navae had never cum so much in one night in her life. She lost count and damn near went brain dead after her seventh orgasm, and Jonathan just wasn't letting up. She had never had a man who prioritized her pleasure over his in such a way. It was like his next breath depended on how hard he could make her cum.

It got so intense in that bedroom that Navae vividly remembered telling him that she loved him. It still embarrassed her to this day because she had only known the man for a week. And to this day, he still hasn't let her live it down.

Jonathan put something on her that night that had her still paying the price today. She never meant to start being neglectful with her best friends, but it was like when Jonathan wanted her, she couldn't say no. Or it was more like certain parts of her body couldn't say no.

On top of that, Jonathan was extremely funny and charming. Over the course of five months, there was genuinely never a dull moment with him. They hadn't quite made it official yet, but Jonathan constantly assured Navae that she was the only person he was currently pursuing. And since meeting him, she couldn't even think about anybody else.

Jonathan was a ton of amazing things, but behind his knee-buckling smile and those beautiful dark eyes, Navae saw a deep possessiveness. It should've been a red flag, but it just turned her on more. The way Jonathan wanted her when he wanted her and didn't care if she made plans with God himself. That wasn't his problem. With his career and hers, their time together weekly was already limited. So when they both had free time, he wasn't too keen on sharing her with anybody else. Not even with people she knew well before him.

So many times Navae would tell him she had plans, but his favorite line was, "What that got to do with me, Navae?"

So many times she would actually go through the process of getting ready, only to have her hair messed up by how he liked to run his fingers through it while praising her for sucking his dick or throwing it back just right. Or only to have her makeup ruined by the tears she couldn't contain when he was so deep inside her it felt like he was taking a piece of her soul every time he pulled out.

Navae couldn't help but feel like Jonathan had a thing for watching her get ready just so he could be the one to undo her. That's what she thinks gets him off the most. Watching her get ready, knowing he was about to pull every move so she wouldn't even make it out the door.

There were days when she would actually make it to an event, though. Late sometimes, but she would be there. Only to end up leaving early because Jonathan would constantly be texting the filthiest things to her phone, telling her how much he needed her. And Navae always felt like she needed him in that way too, so it was nearly impossible not to give in. Even when she hadn't spent more than an hour with her friends all week.

God, she had become a terrible friend. If anyone else in the friend group were behaving this way, she would be so irritated.

It was beyond necessary that she showed and proved tonight. It wouldn't instantly fix things and put her back in everyone's good graces, but it would show that they were still just as important to her.

So Navae had to be there tonight, and she couldn't let anyone or anything stray her from that path. But here Jonathan was with his arms around her, trying to do just that. Earlier when they talked, she told him there was no point in his coming over tonight because she would be gone for hours. She and her girls were hitting up one of their favorite clubs and planned to party all night like old times. Pre-Jonathan times. But still, he showed up at her apartment about an hour ago smelling just as good as he looked, ready to call her bluff.

"You better play with yourself. I'm about to go. You already know that," Navae said to him while maneuvering out of his arms. Something she didn't necessarily want to do but had to because he was intentionally pressing his bulge against her ass. He wasn't even hard, and she could feel it. She pushed away images of the mini baseball bat he was walking around calling a penis and told herself that she had to stay focused.

Unplugging her curling iron, she looked around for what else she had to do and was happy that it wasn't much. With her hair and makeup finished, all she had to do was spray on some perfume and add a few pieces of jewelry. Then she could be out the door.

But little did she know, Jonathan had already taken one look at the way the jersey dress clinging to her body barely covered her ass and the thigh-high boots, and decided that she wasn't leaving his sight. He didn't care where she thought she was going, all he knew was that all her hard work was about to be for nothing. Well... never mind, she would definitely be getting something for it.

She looked too fucking good, and no way was some other dude at a club about to enjoy looking at her while he was stuck at her apartment thinking about every position he would rather be putting her in. He had been on the road for damn near the whole week, and all he could think about was seeing Navae.

Touching Navae.

Tasting Navae.

Being inside Navae.

He needed it bad.

And now that he was here, he wasn't trying to wait until she came back from the club too drunk or tired to get the treatment she deserved. She told him about how her friends were getting on her about the time they spent together, but he didn't see it as his issue. It wasn't his fault that Navae had bad time management skills. But what they said must've really gotten to her because she was acting a little different tonight. Anytime he touched her, she moved like she just did. And she wasn't allowing him to kiss on her or be near her for too long.

Jonathan sensed that old moves wouldn't get her to give in to the inevitable tonight, so he had to think of something else.

He took one last look at her spraying on the perfume that lingered well after she left the room before retreating to her living room. He sat down on the couch to think for a moment. Navae was determined as hell to go clubbing tonight, but he was even more determined to have his tongue wrapped around her clit in the next fifteen minutes, so... somebody had to win.

His eyes shifted around the living room before they landed on her keys on the floor near the coffee table. He noticed that Navae had a habit of walking into the house and tossing her keys without worrying about where they landed until she was about to leave again. Jonathan couldn't control the smile that crept on his face as he leaned forward and grabbed her keys. He slid them into the pocket of his sweatpants before leaning back into the couch cushions.

Just then, Navae slid on her last bracelet. She gave herself one last once-over in the mirror before grabbing the purse she matched with her outfit. Easing her phone inside her bag, she entered the living room.

"Baby, I'm about to leave," she announced to Jonathan as she walked over to where he was sitting.

"Awww, don't look like that. I'll be back," she joked as she stood in front of him as he looked up at her. She knew the look in his eyes all too well. It was an unquenchable hunger that she wasn't trying to get caught up in. At least not right now. She leaned down and ditched a kiss for a hug because she didn't want to mess up her lips. Once Jonathan had her in his arms, he softly kissed her on the neck while grabbing a handful of her ass.

Navae let it ride for a few moments before breaking away before she had to go and change her panties.

"I'll see you later, Jon," she told him, walking towards the front door. She was so close, but then she looked and didn't see her keys dangling from the hook by the door. She almost burst out laughing, remembering that she never uses the damn thing anyway. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder, then turned around and walked back towards her coffee table. But she didn't see them there either. She looked around it but still came up with nothing. All she remembered was this morning she tossed them damn keys towards something. The coffee table? The kitchen counter? The stand in her room? She checked all those places before returning to where she started with nothing.

"You seen my keys?" she asked Jonathan, who was still sitting on the couch. Now he had her remote in his hand, flipping through the channels.

"Nah... but I told you about just throwing them anywhere," he responded, not feeling any remorse for the fact that the keys she was going all over her apartment searching for were sitting in his pocket.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can you help me look for them?" Navae asked, a little frustrated. The last thing she needed was a lecture from him. Yes, she would do the same thing at his house, resulting in them having to search for her keys each time she was about to leave. No, she didn't need to be reminded of that right now.

"Yeah, but come here right quick," Jonathan told Navae as he put the remote down, realizing that now was his opportunity to reel her in. Navae walked back over and stood in front of him after dropping her purse on the coffee table.

"Yes?" she asked him.

"I did something to you?" he questioned her, knowing damn well she wasn't mad at him or anything. But he needed a way to get her on the hook. He placed his hands on her hips, looking up at her as she looked down at him with her hands resting on his shoulders.

"Why you think that?" Navae asked, confused. Yes, she had been a little standoffish today because she didn't want to get caught up in him, but she didn't think he would view that as her having a problem with him.

"I don't know," Jonathan answered with a shrug.

"You just been acting a lil funny today. You ain't gave me a kiss or nothing since I been here. Every time I try to touch you, you walk off from me. That shit got me feeling like you got a problem with me," Jonathan said, laying it on thick. He did feel a little bad for playing with her head for his benefit, but he figured each time he got her to cum would be his way of making it up. They both would win in the end.

"We're fine, Jon. I'm not upset with you about anything. I was just focused on getting ready," Navae reassured him as she stroked his beard, feeling bad that her actions made him feel that way.

"Feel better?" she asked him to ensure they were okay. With everything going on with her girls, the last thing she was prepared for was an issue with him. Although she knew her friends would probably be happy to see him go.

"I will be once you give me a kiss," Jonathan told her, then flashed a reassuring smile her way to let her know they were straight. He had no intentions to upset her too badly. He just needed an angle to keep her from making him wait longer for what he needed.

"Do you see this?" Navae said while waving her hand towards her face. "It took a minute to get it right. I can't mess it up."

"You got more than one set of lips, Navae."

To Be Continued……

#jimmy uso #jimmy uso x black oc #jimmy uso smut #jimmy uso fanfiction #jonathan fatu #jimmy uso x black reader #wwe imagine #wwe x oc #black women writers

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vxnuslogy · 7 months ago

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▸ THE SECRET OF US ↺

a xiao x f!reader smau.

synopsis:what was once a petty and unspoken rivalry between you and your ex now spirals into a full on war. songs, lyrics, performances, all sharpened to point at the other’s throat in hopes that they bleed. but overtime, after 4 years of this constant exchange of hurt, lines of love begin to bleed into the mix. amidst the tours, charts, and concert lights, the question still remains: have you actually moved on?

genre: social media au, band au, exes to rivals to lovers.

warnings: female reader, unrealistic/inaccurate depictions of the music industry, , angst, misunderstandings, miscommunication, swearing, toxic industries, will be updated as the series continues.

status: wip/ongoing

concert reminders:

cheers to another genshin smau project i thought of on a whim

timestamps do not matter

apologies in advance for any grammatical errors; english is not my first language

pacing might be very wack

written chapters will be marked with "၊၊||၊"

fan art used for the banner is from @xuzhi2207 on twitter.

masterlist is best viewed in lightmode!

▷ MUSIC TEASER

0.1 – breakup anniversary

▷ MEET THE RIVAL BANDS!

ghost flower ⇄ fading lanterns

▷ ACT I – BATTLE OF THE BANDS.

01 – audacious fuckers

02 – what is love?

03 – don’t know, don’t care

04 – say your sorrys

05 – crawling back

06 – welcome to music theory!

07 – next stop: fontaine

08 – working overtime

09 – moving on 101: block

10 – do you get deja vu? ၊၊||၊

▷ ACT II – FEELINGS FROM THE VAULT.

tba!

▷ ACT III – JUST KISS AND MAKE UP?

tba!

▷ ACT IV – THE SECRET OF US.

tba!

▷ ACT V – LAST VERSE.

tba!

▷ taglist – @https-sourlimes @mikashisus @ryescapades

— the taglist is open! if you’d like to be tagged, don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask (off anon) or just comment on this masterlist! please remember to change your visibility settings. if your user is in bold it means i cannot tag you.

#( 🃃 ) – three of a kind series ; the secret of us .ᐟ #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fluff #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin fluff #xiao genshin impact #xiao genshin x reader #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao angst #xiao fluff #xiao series

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sundownpromises-inactive · 1 year ago

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new look | L.K.

(fanart in the middle from tanya.gavva on instagram)

pairing: leon kennedy x reader

synopsis: leon kennedy grows out his hair for the first time in a long time... and you cherish every moment of it.

word count: 1,190

tags: long haired re4r leon, established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff and cute domestic stuff, slice of life, short and sweet

author's note: ya'll know those long hair leon kennedy mods. yeah. yeah those. thank the modders for inspiring me to write this. 😭😭😭 (seriously he is so beautiful with long hair i am Crying)

as per usual, this was posted at a time when i should be sleeping lol. this has been proofread but some grammatical errors may have still slipped by me. apologies in advance, any and all mistakes are mine!

please enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated.

(this has been crossposted on ao3)

Sometimes, Leon goes quite some time without hearing from the government. On the rare occasion he gets extended breaks, he gets a little lazy when it comes to keeping his hair short. Short hair stays out of Leon's face, and prevents any evil residents from grabbing it when he's on missions, but when he doesn't have any hostile enemies to fight and he spends most of his time with you, he likes to let it grow just a little bit – after all, it's nice to save some money on haircuts and it gets some pretty entertaining reactions out of you.

When you first noticed Leon's longer hair, you didn't comment on it; you assumed that he'd cut it fairly quickly. But several days had passed, and his hair only grew longer, much to your surprise (and delight). You brought it up to him one night while he was helping you cook dinner, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his eyes.

"Are you growing out your hair?" You had asked him. Leon looked away, almost in a shy manner that you found absolutely adorable.

"Yeah… I know it's unusual of me to keep it this long but it's been a while since my last mission and I haven't really felt like going to the barbershop, so…" he trailed off, running his fingers through the locks in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

There was a bit of silence before Leon spoke again. "Do you like it?" He asked you, to which you could only chuckle in response, walking over to him and running your own fingers through the strands before letting your arms rest on his shoulders, playing with the hairs on his nape.

"Leon Kennedy. Is that even a question?" You replied incredulously. Leon just smiled, chuckling softly as he placed his large hands on your waist. The two of you leaned in and shared a sweet kiss, momentarily forgetting about dinner altogether.

Leon eventually pulled away first, but his face remained close enough to yours that you could still feel his breath on your lips. Your fingers were still playing with his hair tenderly as your eyes admired the gorgeous sight directly in front of you.

Leon had always been handsome – that was just a known fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Leon Kennedy is attractive as all hell. But with the way his long hair was framing his face, you were falling in love all over again.

"Somehow you've gotten even more beautiful. I didn't even think that was possible." You teased, tucking some hair behind his ear.

"You're really loving this, aren't you?" Leon playfully asked, grinning warmly at you.

"To say that I'm loving this is a massive understatement – I am obsessed." you said with a smirk, saying the words against Leon's lips before pressing yours against his once more, this kiss a bit more passionate than the first one and making you feel light-headed in the best way possible, butterflies viciously attacking your stomach as Leon still somehow managed to sweep you off your feet years into the relationship.

Leon tried to pull away again after several minutes of lazily making out in the middle of the kitchen, but every time he tried you would chase his lips, never keeping your mouths separated for longer than a second.

"Baby," Leon whispered against your lips, and eventually you leaned back, but not without great reluctance.

Leon just kissed your cheek. "We should probably get back to preparing dinner, yeah?" He asked. With a pout, you nodded.

"Right." You said, remembering the poor vegetables that still needed cutting.

Before you turned your attention back on cutting vegetables though, you stepped back and took in Leon's now messy hair after your fingers had run through the strands a million times, giggling to yourself quietly. It looked like a cute little bird's nest.

"God, I am going to be all over you." You muttered under your breath. But your boyfriend's trained government agent ears picked up on your words.

"Aren't you always all over me already?" He replied, teasingly.

You added the chopped vegetables into a boiling pot as you responded. "Well, yes. But even more now. Watch out." You threw a wink his way, and Leon just rolled his eyes, but couldn't fight the fond smile from taking over his lips.

Eventually, the two of you got back into the tranquility of cooking, moving around each other almost as if dancing in harmony, a comfortable quietness filling the kitchen. At some point, though, when the food was simmering and you began cleaning up the kitchen, Leon had left for a moment. You didn't think anything of it, assuming he just needed to be off of his feet for a bit.

But then he came back, his silky blonde hair pulled into a small ponytail, some of the more disobedient strands framing his face in the most endearing way. You were wiping the counter when you suddenly froze, your face feeling as warm as the pot of stew on the stove as you shamelessly ogled at your boyfriend's good looks.

Leon sensed your staring, quickly meeting your gaze. "Something on your mind?" He asked playfully.

You wanted to throw your wash cloth at his ridiculously charming face. "Leon. You look so adorable right now. I'm going to explode."

Leon chuckled. "Please, don't. The counter will get dirty again."

You walked over to him, hitting him gently with the washcloth still in your hand before surprising him with a chaste kiss against his lips.

Eventually, dinner was served, and after the two of you ate, it was about time for bed. You both did your usual nightly routines before jumping into your shared bed, holding each other close. Leon was usually the big spoon, as per your request on most nights, but you weren't passing up the opportunity to hold his head close to your chest and to run your fingers through his soft strands.

Leon hummed contentedly, and it was so quiet you almost didn't catch it; but you did, and the sound instantly brought a smile to your face.

"That feels nice, sweetheart." He said lazily, as he was very obviously trying to fight sleep.

This man will be the death of me, you thought.

"It does?" You asked. Leon nodded.

"Mhmm." Was all he replied with, melting into your touch once more.

Some silence passed, the two of you on the very edge of being pulled into the embrace of a deep slumber, but not for long as you expressed one more thought that had entered your mind.

"You know, with your hair this length, I got some style ideas…"

"Oh yeah?" Leon replied groggily.

"Yeah. I have to see you in pigtails."

Leon's half open eyes were now fully open at your comment. A sharp laugh escaped you immediately.

"Leon, please. Do it for me?"

He shook his head, laughing along with you. But the next morning, he let you put his hair into two cute pigtails with a couple of your hairties. And of course, you took photos.

#leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #re4 leon #resident evil 4 #re4make #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fluff #resident evil fic #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction

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theetherealbloom · 4 months ago

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IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.6

Chapter Six: I Keep These Longings Locked In Lowercase Inside A Vault

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, On-Set Accident, Blood, Stitches, Medic

Word Count: 9.6k

A/N: GOOD MORNING CHICKENS 🙂‍↕️ Lowkey, I ran into a wall writing this chapter LOL. Anyways, almost murdered the reader cause why not HEHE. If we’re doing hallmark tropes— I’M GOING ALL THE WAY, BABY.

Song: Guilty As Sin? By Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist |Main Masterlist|

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY MORNING

Sunlight filters softly through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. The air feels calm, almost too calm, as if it knows that something is about to shift.

“You know we’ll still see each other at work, right?” you say with a soft laugh, zipping up your suitcase and trying to keep things light.

Despite your tone, there’s a strange ache in your chest—a heaviness that lingers just beneath the surface. You keep your focus on the zipper, avoiding his gaze for a moment too long.

Pedro stands in the doorway, arms crossed, his shoulder resting casually against the frame as he watches you with that familiar ease. But there’s something different in his expression this morning, something quieter. “Doesn’t mean I’ll miss you any less,” he replies, his voice warm but tinged with a softness that makes your heart stumble.

Then his lips curl into a teasing pout. “Especially the cuddles.”

Your breath catches, heat rushing to your cheeks as flashes of last night fill your mind—the two of you curled up together on the couch, your head on his chest, his arm draped around you. You’d fallen asleep like that, wrapped in warmth and comfort, his steady heartbeat beneath your ear. Neither of you had moved until morning.

You clear your throat, trying to play it off. “I’m sure you’ll survive without a cuddle buddy for one night.”

“Survive, yes.” Pedro sighs dramatically. “But thrive? Highly questionable.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. The knot in your chest loosens just a little. Stepping closer, you reach out and gently take his hand. Your fingers brush against his palm, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

“Walk me to my new room?” you ask, your voice quieter now, almost shy.

Pedro’s eyes soften as he looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “Of course,” he says, his voice steady, reassuring. “Lead the way.”

The hallway is peaceful in the early morning light, the soft hum of the hotel’s quiet routine filling the air. Pedro stays close, his shoulder brushing yours with every step. It feels effortless, this closeness, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

When you reach your new room, you pause, staring at the door as your grip tightens around the keycard. Suddenly, you’re not so sure you’re ready to walk in and let the bubble of the past week burst.

Pedro notices, his head tilting slightly as he studies you. “You okay?”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. Just… feels a little weird, that’s all.”

He steps closer, his hand resting gently on your arm. “Weird how?”

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. “Like… we’ve been in this little bubble all week,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. “And now it’s about to pop.”

Pedro’s brow furrows for a second before his expression shifts into something reassuring. His thumb traces a soothing line against your sleeve. “It doesn’t have to pop,” he says softly. “It can stretch—change shape a little. But it doesn’t have to go away.”

You blink up at him, caught off guard by how easily his words settle the swirling uncertainty inside you.

“You’re right,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”

Pedro grins, stepping back just enough to give you space while still keeping his hand on your arm. “It’s one of my many talents,” he teases.

You swipe the keycard and push the door open, the soft click of the lock breaking the moment. “Well, thanks for the walk,” you say softly, standing just inside the doorway.

He lingers for a moment, his eyes lingering on yours like he’s not quite ready to leave. “Anytime.”

There’s a beat of silence, charged but gentle, before he takes a step back.

“Pedro?” you call after him, your voice instinctive and soft.

He turns back, one brow raised. “Yeah?”

You hesitate for just a second, then smile. “See you tomorrow?”

His face lights up in that easy, familiar way that feels like home. “You can count on it.”

You watch him disappear down the hall, the warmth of his presence lingering in the air long after he’s gone. The ache in your chest eases, replaced by something lighter—something that feels suspiciously like hope.

With a soft sigh, you close the door behind you and lean against it for a moment, letting the quiet settle around you. It feels strange not having Pedro right there, filling the space with his warmth and playful banter. The silence feels heavier now, but you shake it off and turn toward your suitcase.

Unpacking is slow and deliberate, each item placed carefully, like it might somehow ground you in this new room. Eventually, you unzip the side pocket and spot the little polaroid photobooth strip you’d tucked away.

You pull it out, your fingers brushing gently over the glossy surface. The photo was taken just yesterday, but it feels like a lifetime ago—a perfect little slice of happiness frozen in time. Pedro’s grinning wide in the picture, his arm slung around your shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You’re laughing, caught mid-giggle, eyes bright and cheeks flushed from too much teasing.

Your lips curve into a small smile at the memory. That day… it’s up there in your top three moments in life, one of those days you pray you’ll never forget—if you’re lucky.

It had started with a spontaneous coffee run that turned into hours of wandering through the streets, popping into bookshops and vintage stores, taking goofy photos at every opportunity. Pedro had insisted on the photobooth, dragging you inside with that mischievous glint in his eyes.

You’d rolled your eyes but followed him in, unable to resist the way his excitement was so contagious. The tiny booth had been cramped, your shoulders pressed together as you both tried to fit into the frame. Pedro had leaned closer, his head nearly resting against yours, and flashed a ridiculous grin just as the camera clicked.

The memory warms you now, a soft glow that spreads through your chest. You can still hear his voice, still feel the weight of his arm around you, still see the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

You carefully set the photo on the nightstand, propping it up against the lamp. It feels like a little piece of him is here with you, anchoring you in a way that nothing else can.

The rest of your unpacking is a blur, your thoughts drifting back to him over and over. It’s ridiculous, really, how much space he takes up in your mind.

Stop it, you tell yourself. You’ll see him tomorrow. It’s no big deal.

But deep down, you know it’s a little more complicated than that. You’ve been in this bubble with him for days—wrapped up in late-night conversations, shared coffee runs, and the kind of closeness that feels far too easy. Now that you’re on the edge of something new, something that feels like it could change everything, you don’t quite know how to navigate it.

Your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Pedro: Miss me yet?

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the grin that’s already forming. He’s impossible.

You: I was just starting to enjoy the peace and quiet.

There’s a pause, and then:

Pedro: Liar. You miss me.

You roll your eyes, warmth blooming in your chest.

You: Maybe a little.

Pedro: Thought so. Meet me for coffee in the morning?

Your heart flutters at the thought, the ache in your chest completely forgotten.

You: It’s a date.

You set your phone down, the smile lingering on your lips.

SOHO HOUSE – AFTERNOON

The café is buzzing with the low hum of conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mixing with something warm and buttery from the kitchen. You slide into a booth where Daisy and Omar are already waiting, their plates half-finished, because of course, you’re the late one.

“There she is,” Daisy grins, sipping her iced latte. “Surprised you could make time for little old us.”

Omar smirks, leaning back against the booth. “Figured you’d be too busy playing house with Pedro.”

You nearly choke on your water. “Oh my god, shut up.”

Daisy gasps dramatically. “So defensive. We’re just saying—you two have been… spending a lot of time together.”

“Yeah,” Omar adds, raising an eyebrow. “Like, a lot.”

You roll your eyes, setting your napkin in your lap. “We were literally just sharing a suite until my room was ready. That’s it.”

Daisy exchanges a knowing glance with Omar before turning back to you. “Sure. And is ‘just sharing a suite’ why you’re glowing like you’ve been in a rom-com montage?”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “I hate you both.”

Omar laughs. “That’s fine, but tell me I’m wrong.”

You hesitate a second too long, and that’s all Daisy needs to pounce.

“She’s not denying it.”

You huff, taking a pointed bite of your food. “Can we talk about literally anything else?”

Daisy leans in, dropping her voice. “Fine. Let’s talk about how Cecilia is a raging bitch.”

Omar sighs. “Finally.”

Your stomach twists. You’ve been dealing with it all week—Cecilia’s passive-aggressive comments, her cutting looks, the way she talks over you during meetings like you don’t even exist. You thought maybe you were imagining it at first, but then Daisy started noticing. Then Omar. And now it’s become impossible to ignore.

“She’s been awful to you,” Omar says, frowning. “Like, openly awful.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it,” Daisy adds. “It’s like she’s got some weird grudge against you. She’s only nice when Pedro’s around.”

You exhale slowly, pushing your food around with your fork. “I don’t know what her problem is.”

“She’s threatened by you,” Daisy says matter-of-factly. “You’re good at your job, and Pedro actually, you know, likes you.”

You shoot her a look. “Daisy.”

“What? I’m just saying. She’s been trying to sink her claws into him forever, and now she’s watching him give you all his attention. You think that’s a coincidence?”

Omar nods. “She’s not even subtle about it.”

You groan, rubbing your temple. “It’s just exhausting. I don’t want drama, I just want to do my job.”

Daisy softens. “I know, babe. But you should bring it up to the first AD. This isn’t just personal—it’s affecting your work.”

Omar nods. “Exactly. You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit.”

You chew on your lip, debating. The idea of escalating it makes your stomach knot, but at the same time… they’re right. You shouldn’t have to just deal with it.

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally.

Daisy raises an eyebrow. “You better.”

Omar smirks. “Now, back to Pedro—”

You groan.

Daisy grins, nudging you. “What? Just curious—how’s the cuddling?”

You hide your face in your hands again.

They’re never going to let this go.

OXFORD STREET – AFTERNOON

The city hums around you, the air thick with the scent of freshly brewed coffee from a nearby café, the distant chatter of tourists mixing with the occasional honk of a taxi. The sky is an endless stretch of soft blue, and the warmth of the sun against your skin makes the day feel lighter, easier.

Daisy swings her shopping bag dramatically as she walks beside you. “Alright, so we’ve got the essentials—skincare, snacks, some clothes. Anything else?”

“I could use some new art supplies,” you muse, adjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “I ran out of markers.”

Omar gasps. “Tragic. We must fix this.”

Daisy nods solemnly. “Immediately.”

You laugh as they steer you toward the next store, their enthusiasm contagious. The three of you weave through shelves of neatly stacked notebooks, sketchpads, and rows upon rows of colorful markers. You let your fingers trail over the different shades, your mind already picturing what you could create.

“Should I be concerned that you look this excited over pens?” Omar teases, peering over your shoulder.

You roll your eyes, tossing a pack of markers into your shopping basket. “Not everyone can be an influencer like some people. Some of us need hobbies.”

Daisy cackles. “Wow. Drag him.”

Omar clutches his chest. “I am wounded.”

You smirk, grabbing a sketchbook before leading them back into the bustle of the street.

A few stores later, as you browse through a boutique filled with delicate jewelry, something catches your eye—a simple but elegant bracelet, a thin gold chain with a tiny, shimmering star charm. You pause, tilting your head as you trace a fingertip over it.

It’s beautiful. Understated but meaningful.

You hesitate, then shake your head, gently setting it back down. You’ve already bought enough today.

Daisy, pretending to check her phone, subtly snaps a picture of the bracelet the moment you turn away. She shares a quick glance with Omar, who smirks knowingly, before tucking her phone back into her pocket like nothing happened.

“Alright,” Omar announces. “Time for the grand finale.”

You raise a brow. “Which is?”

He gestures dramatically toward a shop just a few doors down—a musical instrument store. Through the large glass window, you can see rows of guitars hanging on the walls, keyboards set up near the back, and a few people testing out instruments.

You take a step back. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” Daisy says, grabbing your arm.

“I just wanted art supplies,” you protest, even as they start dragging you toward the entrance.

“And now you get music,” Omar grins. “A full creative experience.”

The bell above the door chimes as you step inside. The scent of polished wood and old sheet music fills the air, and soft acoustic strumming floats from the back where someone is testing a guitar.

Daisy and Omar immediately start messing around—Omar taps on a few piano keys while Daisy picks up a tambourine and shakes it dramatically.

You, however, find yourself drawn to the guitars.

Your fingers brush against the smooth neck of one, its warm, honey-colored wood gleaming under the soft lighting. Without thinking, you pick it up, settling it onto your lap as you sit on a nearby stool.

The weight of it is familiar, grounding.

You give the strings a tentative strum. The sound vibrates through your fingertips, sending a shiver up your spine.

Omar and Daisy go quiet, watching as you idly pluck a few chords, your fingers moving almost instinctively.

And then, without meaning to, you start playing something real.

The opening chords of Risk by Gracie Abrams fill the air, delicate and wistful.

Your voice follows, soft at first, barely above a hum.

“And I wake up

In the middle of the night

With the light on

And I feel like I could die

'Cause you're not here

And it don't feel right

'Cause you're not here”

The melody flows effortlessly from your lips, your fingers moving with muscle memory, like the song has always been resting just beneath your skin.

Daisy and Omar exchange a look, their teasing smiles replaced with something quieter, something fonder.

You don’t even notice the way the store quiets, how a few people glance in your direction.

“God, I'm actually invested

Haven't even met him

Watch this be the wrong thing, classic

God, I'm jumpin' in the deep end

It's more fun to swim in

Heard the risk is drownin', but I'm gonna take it”

Your voice is steady but gentle, carrying the weight of the lyrics, the quiet ache of them.

For a moment, it’s just you and the music.

When you finish the last chord, letting it ring softly into the still air, you finally glance up.

Omar and Daisy are staring.

“…What?” you ask, suddenly shy.

Daisy blinks. “So you’re just gonna casually have the voice of an angel and not tell us?”

You huff a laugh, setting the guitar down. “I just… like playing sometimes.”

Omar shakes his head in disbelief. “Unacceptable. We need to form a band immediately.”

You roll your eyes, standing up. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Daisy loops an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you. “No, we just love you and think you’re unfairly talented.”

Your cheeks warm, but you let yourself smile.

Maybe today really was a good day.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

The ride back is filled with laughter, the kind that lingers even after the jokes have faded, warmth curling around the edges of your chest. The three of you are crammed into the backseat of a cab, shopping bags piled between you, the city blurring past in a wash of golden streetlights and neon signs.

“I still cannot believe you didn’t tell us you could sing like that,” Daisy says for what has to be the fifth time.

Omar sighs dramatically. “Honestly, I feel betrayed. I thought we were close.”

You groan, leaning your head back against the seat. “It wasn’t a secret—I just never thought to mention it.”

Omar clutches his chest. “Oh, so we’re just chopped liver then?”

You give him a deadpan look. “Yes. Exactly.”

Daisy cackles, and Omar glares at both of you before shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “This is the worst day of my life.”

The driver chuckles quietly, clearly entertained by the three of you.

The cab slows in front of the Chiltern Firehouse, the warm glow of the entrance lights spilling onto the pavement. You reach for your bags, shifting them into your arms as Daisy nudges you lightly.

“Alright, superstar. We’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod. “Breakfast?”

“Obviously,” Omar says. “We can’t function without an unhealthy amount of caffeine and gossip.”

Daisy smirks. “And don’t think we forgot about her.”

You groan, knowing exactly who she means. “Cecilia?”

Omar scoffs. “Yeah, Cecilia.” His expression darkens slightly, annoyance flickering across his face. “You have to say something, babe. She’s been unbearable this entire week.”

Daisy nods in agreement. “Seriously. If you don’t, we will.”

You sigh, adjusting your grip on your shopping bags. It’s not that you haven’t noticed Cecilia’s behavior—how she seems to have made it her personal mission to be as dismissive, condescending, and outright rude as possible. You just…haven’t figured out how to deal with it yet.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, because that’s all you can promise right now.

Daisy eyes you like she wants to push the subject, but instead, she reaches out and squeezes your arm. “Alright. Just don’t let her get to you, okay?”

You nod, giving her a small smile. “I won’t.”

Omar tilts his head. “Liar.”

You snort. “Goodnight, Omar.”

“Goodnight, secret singer,” he teases.

Daisy gives you a quick hug before stepping back into the cab, and with one last wave, you turn and head into the hotel.

The warmth of the lobby greets you as you step inside, the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers filling the air. The quiet hum of conversation drifts from the bar, a few guests lounging in the plush chairs near the fireplace.

You shift your bags onto one arm, your fingers brushing over the handles of the shopping bags as you make your way toward the elevators. The day’s events settle over you like a soft blanket—the shopping, the music, the laughter.

You feel good.

Better than you have in days.

The elevator dings softly as the doors open, and as you step inside, you can’t help but let a small, satisfied smile slip onto your lips.

Maybe tomorrow will be even better.

You make your way to your room, tap your keycard on the lock and enter. The door clicks shut behind you, muffling the distant hum of the hallway. You exhale slowly, rolling your shoulders as you set your shopping bags down near the dresser. The room is quiet, save for the faint city sounds filtering in through the window—London still alive and buzzing outside, even as exhaustion begins to settle into your bones.

You flick on the bedside lamp, the soft golden glow washing over the space. Kicking off your shoes, you make your way to the vanity, catching your reflection in the mirror. There’s a tired sort of happiness in your face, a contentment that lingers in your eyes despite the long day.

You start unpacking your shopping bags, sorting through the few essentials you picked up. The art supplies make you smile—new markers, sketchbooks, things you didn’t necessarily need but wanted anyway. Your fingers brush over a particular bag, and you pause, pulling out the Polaroid photobooth strip you’d nearly forgotten about.

Pedro’s face grins up at you from the tiny squares—one shot of him making a ridiculous expression, another where you’re both mid-laugh, and the last…

The last one makes your stomach flutter.

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t posed—it was just the two of you, caught in a quiet moment, his face turned toward you, his expression soft in a way that makes something in your chest tighten.

You let out a breath, carefully tucking the photo into your nightstand drawer before shaking your head at yourself.

It’s fine. It’s just Pedro.

You brush your fingers over the bracelet you liked—the one you didn’t buy. For some reason, it lingers in your mind longer than it should, but you push the thought aside and continue getting ready for bed.

By the time you’ve showered and slipped into an oversized t-shirt, exhaustion has fully caught up with you. You slide beneath the cool sheets, letting out a sigh as your body finally relaxes.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

You reach for it, blinking at the screen.

Pedro: Made it back okay?

A small, involuntary smile tugs at your lips.

You: Yeah, just got into bed.

There’s a brief pause before his reply comes through.

Pedro: Get some sleep, cariño. Big day tomorrow.

You bite your lip, warmth blooming in your chest at the nickname.

You: Goodnight, Pedro.

You don’t wait for his response, setting your phone down and rolling onto your side. The weight of the day settles over you, but it’s lighter now, easier to carry.

And as you drift off, the last thing on your mind isn’t Cecilia, or the long production days ahead.

It’s a bracelet you didn’t buy.

And a Polaroid you won’t forget.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — MORNING

Your alarm blares, dragging you out of sleep far earlier than you’d like. With a groan, you fumble for your phone on the nightstand, blindly swiping at the screen until the sound finally stops. The room is still dim, the soft glow of early morning creeping through the curtains, casting long shadows across the walls.

You sit up slowly, rubbing at your bleary eyes before forcing yourself out of bed. The floor is cool against your feet as you shuffle toward the bathroom, yawning through the motions of your morning routine.

The second your toothbrush is in your mouth, you grab your phone, squinting at the screen as you scroll through your notifications.

Pedro: Morning, sleepyhead. Still up for coffee?

You smile around your toothbrush, quickly typing back.

You: Morning! Yes, definitely. Meet you in the lobby?

His reply is almost instant.

Pedro: I’ll be the one looking devastatingly handsome and in desperate need of caffeine.

You roll your eyes but feel warmth creep up your neck as you set your phone down and step into the shower. The water is warm, waking you up as you let your playlist play softly in the background. You don’t linger too long—just enough to wash away the remnants of sleep before stepping out and wrapping yourself in a towel.

As you get dressed, you glance at the Polaroid on your nightstand. The memory makes your stomach flutter, but you shake your head, pushing the thought away.

It’s just Pedro.

You grab your bag, double-check that you have everything for the long production day ahead, and head downstairs.

Pedro is already there when you step into the lobby, leaning casually against the wall near the entrance. He’s dressed comfortably, a hoodie pulled over his curls, sunglasses perched on his nose despite the early hour.

His head lifts when he spots you, and a slow grin spreads across his face. “Well, look who’s alive.”

You roll your eyes. “Barely.”

He chuckles, pushing off the wall. “Coffee. Stat.”

You nod in agreement as you both step outside, the crisp morning air waking you up a little more. The streets of London are still sleepy, only a few people out at this hour, and for a moment, it feels like the two of you exist in a quiet little pocket of the city.

Pedro falls into step beside you, close but not overbearing, his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. “Did you sleep okay?”

You hum, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Yeah. I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow.”

He smirks. “Tired from all that shopping?”

You side-eye him, but your lips twitch. “Maybe. It was a productive day.”

“You have fun?”

You nod. “Yeah. Daisy and Omar were great. We just wandered, picked up a few things, nothing crazy.”

Pedro hums, glancing over at you. “Get anything good?”

“Some art supplies,” you say. “Markers, sketchbooks. Stuff to keep my hands busy.”

Pedro’s brows lift slightly, though his expression softens into something knowing. “Still adding to your collection, huh?”

You glance at him, a little shy under the weight of his gaze. “You say that like I have a problem.”

He smirks. “I’ve seen your stash.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch. “It’s not that bad.”

He hums, clearly unconvinced, but before you can argue your case, you both step into the small café near the hotel. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries wraps around you instantly, sinking into your bones like comfort.

As you approach the counter, Pedro turns to you with a look of exaggerated concentration. “Alright, let me guess your order.”

You snort, crossing your arms. “You know my order.”

“Do I?” He taps a finger against his chin, drawing out the moment. “Let’s see… you’re obviously an iced salted caramel latte girl.”

You blink at him, half-impressed, half-annoyed. “You’re just showing off.”

Pedro grins, triumphant. “I knew it.” He turns to the barista, ordering for both of you before you can protest.

As you wait for your drinks, you lean against the counter, watching him. He looks relaxed, the usual weight of the long days ahead not quite settling on him yet.

“You always this perceptive?” you ask, tilting your head.

He glances at you, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Only when it matters.”

Your stomach flips unexpectedly, and you quickly look away as the barista calls your names.

Pedro grabs both cups, handing you yours with an easy smile. “Alright, let’s get to set before they start sending search parties.”

You take a sip, the sweet caramel mixing with the bitter espresso, and let the warmth settle in—not just from the coffee, but from the way Pedro falls into step beside you again, his presence easy, familiar.

Maybe today will be even better.

The car ride to set is comfortable, the early morning haze still lingering outside the windows. You and Pedro are seated next to each other, the quiet hum of the car filling the spaces between conversation.

Joseph, Ebon, and Vanessa are preoccupied—chatting, answering messages, scrolling through their phones. But you and Pedro? You exist in the quieter moments, where words don’t have to fill the silence for it to feel full.

You glance at Pedro from the corner of your eye. He’s leaning back against the seat, fingers wrapped loosely around his coffee cup, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. There’s something about him like this—relaxed, unreadable, but somehow still entirely present.

“You’re quiet,” he muses, breaking the silence.

You blink, caught. “I’m just… waking up.”

Pedro smirks, tilting his head toward you. “It’s been half an hour.”

You hum, taking a slow sip of your coffee. “Some of us don’t bounce out of bed with full energy at the crack of dawn.”

“I do not ‘bounce,’” he protests, dramatically offended. “I drag myself out of bed like the sleep-deprived, overworked adult that I am.”

You snort. “That’s not what I saw yesterday. You were practically bouncing into set.”

Pedro shakes his head. “I think you hallucinated that.”

“Sure,” you say, amused. “Maybe I should sketch it next time.”

His lips curl at the mention of your sketching, but he doesn’t tease. Instead, his voice dips, quieter now. “Do you still draw at the end of the day? Or are they keeping you too busy?”

You hesitate, fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “I try to. Helps clear my head.”

Pedro watches you for a beat, then nods. “Good. You should keep at it.”

Something about the way he says it, like it actually matters to him, makes warmth spread through your chest. You don’t know how to respond to that, so you just sip your coffee and hope he doesn’t notice the way your fingers tighten around the cup.

The car slows as it pulls up to the studio lot, and everyone starts gathering their things, stretching, shaking off the sluggishness of the morning. Pedro slides his sunglasses to the top of his head, glancing at you as he opens the door.

“Ready for another day of pretending we know what we’re doing?” he asks, grin lopsided.

You laugh, stepping out of the car. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The driver bids you all a good day, and you offer a small wave, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. The familiar buzz of set life fills the air—crew members moving equipment, voices overlapping, the faint sound of someone running lines in the distance.

Pedro falls into step beside you, and despite the chaos around you, you feel oddly settled. Maybe it’s the coffee. Maybe it’s the warmth of the morning.

Or maybe it’s just him.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY

The day stretches long and demanding, filled with the constant hum of movement, orders being called out, and the steady rhythm of set life unfolding around you.

You and Daisy barely have a moment to breathe, running between departments, making sure everything is where it needs to be. The production schedule is tight, which means there’s no room for mistakes, no time to slow down.

“Okay, okay, hold up,” Daisy pants, stopping next to you behind the set, hands braced on her knees. “If I have to run across this lot one more time to deliver another prop, I’m throwing myself into the fog machine and disappearing.”

You huff out a tired laugh, adjusting your headset as you check the call sheet in your hand. “I hate to break it to you, but we still need to get the next set of dailies to the editing bay and make sure wardrobe has the updated continuity notes.”

Daisy groans dramatically. “How did we get roped into this again?”

“You volunteered to take extra PA shifts,” you remind her, smirking.

She scowls. “And you agreed to do it with me, so who’s the real fool here?”

You nudge her with your elbow before checking your watch. There’s a brief window before the next setup, and you both know better than to waste it. Without another word, you split up—Daisy heads toward the props department, while you weave through the maze of trailers and equipment toward wardrobe.

The moment you step inside the wardrobe tent, you’re met with the sharp scent of fabric steam and the controlled chaos of stylists making last-minute adjustments.

“Hey, got the continuity notes from this morning’s shoot,” you say, handing over the folder to one of the assistants.

They glance up, looking relieved. “Oh, thank God. We were just about to send someone to chase these down.”

You flash a tired smile. “Happy to save you the trouble.”

Before you can leave, someone’s headset crackles with an urgent call from set, and you hear your name being mentioned.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, already moving.

By the time you get back to set, Daisy is already there, headset tilted as she listens to the first AD barking orders. She shoots you a look when she sees you approach, her expression somewhere between we’re so screwed and why is everyone like this?

“What now?” you whisper.

“They need another PA to help reset the stunt rigging for the next take,” she mutters back. “Guess who gets to be that PA?”

“Us?”

“Ding, ding, ding.”

You sigh, but there’s no use complaining. Instead, you follow Daisy toward the main soundstage, where the crew is resetting for another action sequence. The rigging team waves you over, already handing you harnesses to help secure the area.

You’ve barely finished clipping things into place when Pedro appears nearby, already in costume, watching the controlled chaos of set. His gaze catches on you, a flicker of recognition in his eyes before amusement settles in.

“Didn’t realize this was part of your job description,” he teases, arms crossing over his chest.

You roll your eyes, adjusting the straps on your harness. “I do everything around here.”

“Clearly,” he says, grinning. “I should start calling you the real MVP of this production.”

Daisy, overhearing, snorts. “Oh, don’t encourage her. She’s already got enough of a complex.”

Pedro laughs, and you glare at Daisy, but it’s all in good fun. The truth is, despite the exhaustion, despite the constant running around, there’s something oddly satisfying about the work. It’s not glamorous, not in the way people think movies are made, but it’s real. And you love it.

Even if, by the time lunch rolls around, you feel like you’ve run a marathon.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

You slump onto the nearest empty bench, your limbs aching from the nonstop running around since the crack of dawn. With a tired groan, you twist open a bottle of water and down it in several long gulps, the cool relief barely making up for how drained you feel.

“I’m so glad I brought an extra change of clothes because holy shit,” you gasp, wiping at the sweat on your forehead.

Daisy collapses beside you with an equally exhausted sigh, her head lolling back against the table. “If I don’t sit down for the next hour, I might actually pass out standing up.”

Omar drops into the seat on your other side, groaning dramatically as he takes a long swig from his water bottle. “No, because fuck this,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Why does it feel like production’s been testing our stamina like we’re training for the fucking Olympics?”

You huff a tired laugh. “Because we are.”

Nearby, a group of other PAs are in similar states of exhaustion, scarfing down sandwiches like they’ve been starved for days. The entire crew has been running on fumes all morning, juggling stunts, continuity notes, and last-minute script changes.

You dig into the lunch Daisy had brought back for you—a sandwich and a bag of chips, simple but satisfying. The three of you eat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the occasional sighs of relief from getting off your feet for even a few minutes.

Eventually, Daisy leans forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “So… have you thought about saying something to the first AD about Cecilia?”

You nearly choke on your bite of sandwich. "Oh my God, not now.”

“Yes, now,” Daisy insists. “She’s been a bitch all week, and it’s only getting worse. I swear, if she snaps at you one more time, I’ll throw my walkie at her.”

Omar nods, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah, it’s actually getting kinda unbearable.”

You sigh, pushing your food around with your fork. You know they’re right. Cecilia—one of the senior production assistants—has been making your life hell lately. Every little thing you do is apparently wrong, and her constant nitpicking has started to feel personal.

“I just…” you hesitate, rubbing at your temples. “I don’t want to make it a bigger deal than it already is. Maybe she’s just stressed?”

Daisy gives you an unimpressed look. “Stressed my ass. We’re all stressed, babe, and we’re not out here making everyone miserable just because we can.”

Omar points his fork at you. “Exactly. And look, I get not wanting to stir the pot, but if she keeps treating you like shit, it’s gonna start affecting your work. You need to say something.”

You bite your lip, mulling it over. You’re not the type to cause a scene, especially when it comes to work—you’ve always just kept your head down and powered through. But this… this has been eating at you for days.

“I’ll think about it,” you murmur, still unsure.

Daisy narrows her eyes. “You better do more than think.”

Before you can respond, the sound of approaching footsteps makes you glance up—only to find Pedro making his way toward your table, two cups of iced coffee in hand.

“Oh, look who’s finally gracing us with his presence,” Omar teases, smirking.

Pedro grins, unfazed, before setting one of the iced coffees in front of you. “Thought you could use this.”

You blink, surprised. “You—” You glance down at the drink, recognizing it immediately. Iced salted caramel latte. Your go-to. “How did you—”

Pedro shrugs, casual as ever. “You think I don’t pay attention?”

Your stomach flips, heat creeping up your neck. Daisy and Omar exchange a look before Daisy not-so-subtly nudges you under the table.

“I—uh, thanks,” you say awkwardly, taking the cup and focusing very hard on the condensation forming on the plastic.

Pedro watches you with a knowing smile before he turns to the rest of the group. “So, what’s the gossip? What’s got everyone whispering like high schoolers?”

Daisy doesn’t hesitate. “Oh, just Cecilia being Cecilia.”

Pedro’s smile fades slightly, his gaze flicking to you. “She still giving you a hard time?”

You shift uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes. “It’s nothing, really. Just—”

“It’s not nothing,” Daisy interjects. “She’s been riding her ass all week, and it’s getting ridiculous.”

Pedro frowns, leaning against the table. “You talked to the AD about it?”

You sigh. “No, because it’s not that serious—”

“It is,” Omar cuts in. “You’re working twice as hard as half the people on this set, and she’s still treating you like shit.”

Pedro’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he wants to say something—something firm, something protective—but instead, he exhales, rolling his shoulders back.

“Well,” he says finally, voice measured, “if you don’t want to bring it up, at least let me know if she crosses the line again.”

You glance up at him, the warmth in his gaze soft but serious. There’s something reassuring about it, like he’s quietly telling you that he’s in your corner, no matter what.

Your chest tightens, and for a second, you don’t know what to say.

Daisy, of course, fills the silence for you. “Damn, maybe you should just let Pedro handle it,” she jokes, wiggling her brows. “Bet she’d shut up real quick if he just—”

“Daisy,” you hiss, mortified.

Pedro chuckles, but there’s a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I mean… I could have a word with her.”

“Oh my God, no.” You shake your head rapidly. “That would just make it worse.”

“Debatable.”

“I swear to God—”

He laughs, hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll stay out of it.” A pause. “For now.”

You groan, but there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

The day isn’t over yet.

After lunch, you’re right back at it, running around set, checking call sheets, adjusting rigging equipment, and making sure everything is in place for the next round of stunt rehearsals. You, Daisy, and Omar move like a well-oiled machine, setting up wires and double-checking safety protocols.

Matt Shakman, ever the observant director, watches from a distance, arms crossed and a satisfied nod of approval on his face. “You three are killing it today,” he says, passing by as you finish tightening a harness.

“Thanks, Matt,” Daisy beams, nudging you playfully. “We try.”

Jess Hall, the first assistant director, chimes in, “Seriously, you guys have been on top of everything. Keep this up, and I might actually sleep well tonight.”

You let out a small, shy laugh, ducking your head. “Just doing our job.”

“Yeah, but you’re doing it well,” Jess points out, before heading off to oversee the final checks.

As you straighten up, rolling out the tension in your shoulders, you spot Pedro, Vanessa, Ebon, and Joseph arriving on set. Pedro catches your eye first, grinning as he waves. The others follow suit, greeting you and the crew with casual waves and easy smiles.

You lift a hand in return, a small but warm flutter in your chest.

And then there’s Cecilia.

Standing off to the side, arms crossed, face like thunder.

You don’t even have to look directly at her to feel the glare she’s boring into you. The barely contained resentment. It’s been like this all day—every time you do something right, every time you get even a sliver of recognition, she seems to grow more and more pissed.

But you push it out of your mind.

You have a job to do.

And right now, that means making sure this next stunt goes off without a hitch.

The rigging for the next scene is extensive—multiple actors wired up, intricate movements choreographed down to the second. You’re double-checking the setup, securing a final carabiner when someone calls for places.

“Alright, let’s lock it up!” Jess shouts. “Rolling in five!”

You step back, joining Daisy and Omar off to the side, scanning the setup one last time. Everything looks solid. No loose wires. No unsecured equipment.

At least, that’s what you think.

Then—

A blur. A crack. A scream.

It happens too fast.

Something above shifts—maybe a light, maybe part of the set structure—but it’s falling, fast and heavy, right where Pedro is standing.

Your body moves before your brain does.

“Move!”

You shove Pedro with both hands, hard, sending him stumbling out of the way just as the metal rig comes crashing down.

The impact never comes.

Not for him, at least.

Pain explodes across your shoulder, sharp and jarring, but adrenaline surges through you, numbing everything as chaos erupts around you.

“Jesus Christ—”

“Someone get a medic—”

Voices blur together. There’s movement, hands reaching for you, but you’re not even thinking about yourself.

You blink up at Pedro, his face inches from yours, panic written in every crease of his expression.

"Are you good?" you ask, voice tight, breath coming faster now.

Pedro just stares at you, jaw clenched, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to process what just happened.

Then he swallows, hard. “Am I—?” His voice is strained. “You’re the one who—”

He doesn’t finish, just reaches for you, steadying you as a medic pushes through the small crowd that’s formed around you.

It’s only then that you notice—

The blood.

Your sleeve is torn. There’s a gash on your arm, deep and angry-looking, but you barely feel it.

Pedro does.

His grip on you tightens, like he’s just realizing how close that was. Like he’s just realizing you took the hit for him.

You don’t register the pain at first. The adrenaline drowns it out, buzzing through your veins like white noise, making everything feel strangely detached—like you’re floating just outside your body, watching everything unfold in slow motion.

But Pedro’s grip on you is very real.

“Shit, shit, shit—” His voice is low, strained, hands hovering over you like he doesn’t know where to touch, afraid he’ll make it worse. His eyes flicker between your face and your arm, widening at the sight of the torn fabric, the deep gash beneath it.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, blinking rapidly as the world tilts slightly. “You’re fine. That’s what matters.”

Pedro exhales sharply, jaw tightening. He looks anything but reassured.

The medic finally pushes through the crowd, dropping to his knees beside you. “Let me see,” he says, already reaching for your arm.

“I’m good—” you try to insist, but Pedro gives you a look. A look that immediately shuts you up.

A storm of emotion brews behind his eyes—concern, anger, something else you can’t quite name yet. He’s tense, his entire body coiled like a spring.

You feel a little dizzy. Maybe it’s the blood loss. Maybe it’s the fact that Pedro is looking at you like that, like he cares too much.

“Alright, this is gonna sting,” the medic warns before pressing gauze against the wound.

It does more than sting. A sharp, searing pain shoots through your arm, and you hiss through your teeth, eyes squeezing shut for a second.

Pedro flinches. Actually flinches, like he felt it too.

“Fucking hell,” Daisy breathes from behind him. She’s pale, wide-eyed. “That thing could’ve crushed you.”

Omar nods, face just as grim. “Yeah, what the hell even happened?”

There’s a murmur of agreement from the other crew members gathered around, voices overlapping in hushed confusion. Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

The rig had been checked. The lights had been secured.

So why did it fall?

You glance toward the area where the rigging had come loose. Something gnaws at the back of your mind—an unease you can’t quite name. Your gaze flickers briefly toward Cecilia, who stands a little too still, a little too composed.

She doesn’t look shocked.

She looks… interested.

Like she’s watching.

And then, as if she senses you looking, she tilts her head slightly—just a fraction—before turning away.

A chill snakes down your spine.

“Hey.” Pedro’s voice pulls you back. He’s crouched next to you, closer now, his hand still hovering near yours but not quite touching. His knee almost brushes against yours. “You with me?”

Your breath hitches.

You hate how he does that—how he sees you so easily, how he pulls you back from the edges of your own mind with nothing but a word, a glance.

“I’m good,” you say, voice quieter than before.

Pedro’s expression darkens, like he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he turns his attention back to the medic. “She needs stitches, right?”

The medic nods. “Yeah. We’ll need to get her patched up properly.”

Pedro exhales through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He looks like he wants to hit something.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter.

“Like what?”

“Like I just died in front of you or something.”

Pedro does not laugh. In fact, he looks even more tense, if that’s possible.

“You could have,” he says, voice low. “If you hadn’t moved so fast, that thing—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I shouldn’t have saved you?” you arch a brow. “I didn’t realize that was a bad thing.”

Pedro levels you with a look, one that sends heat crawling up your spine. “You know what I mean.”

There’s something charged in the air between you. A tension neither of you acknowledge, but it’s there, lingering like the static before a storm.

Jess Hall calls for a short break while the crew inspects the rigging failure. People start to disperse, murmuring about safety protocols and near-misses.

But Pedro doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

The medic finishes wrapping your arm in temporary bandages. “She should get properly stitched up in the medical tent.”

Pedro stands before you can even process that. “I’ll take her.”

You blink. “That’s not necessary—”

“Not asking,” Pedro says, holding out a hand to help you up.

You hesitate, but the moment your fingers brush against his, the warmth of his palm against yours, you stop thinking.

He pulls you up carefully, keeping you steady when you sway slightly on your feet. His grip lingers—just a little too long.

And when you finally look up at him, there’s something in his expression that makes your stomach twist.

Something unspoken. Something more.

Something you don’t have the words for yet.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MEDICAL TENT

The walk to the medical tent is quiet.

Pedro hasn’t let go of you. His hand hovers near your lower back, not quite touching but close enough that you feel him there—like a tether, grounding you.

You should say something, maybe make a joke, lighten the mood. But the words don’t come. Your arm is starting to throb now, the sharp edge of pain creeping in as the adrenaline fades. You exhale slowly, focusing on each step forward.

Pedro doesn’t rush you. He matches your pace, his brows drawn tight, his jaw locked so hard you can see the muscle tick.

You swallow.

“I mean,” you start, forcing out a breathy laugh, “at least I’m lucky insurance covers this.”

Pedro stops.

Just—stops.

You nearly stumble, caught off guard, but when you turn to look at him, the expression on his face roots you to the spot.

His eyes flicker over you, frustration darkening his gaze. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” His voice is tight, controlled, but there’s an edge to it. “Insurance?”

You blink. “I mean… yeah?”

Pedro exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then he presses his lips into a firm line, nostrils flaring.

You watch the way his shoulders rise and fall with the weight of whatever he’s holding back.

And suddenly, you get it.

He’s mad.

Not at you. Not really.

He’s mad that you got hurt. Mad that you shoved him out of the way instead of letting him take the hit. Mad that he almost lost you—over a fucking light rig.

Your chest tightens.

“Pedro—”

“Don’t.” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He looks away, shaking his head. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Your throat feels thick. “I—”

“I saw that thing falling, and I couldn’t move—I couldn’t do anything. And then you—” He cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. “Christ.”

Your fingers twitch at your side. You don’t know what to do with this—this version of him. The one unraveling right in front of you.

“I didn’t think,” you admit, voice small. “I just—moved.”

Pedro lets out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Yeah. You did.”

There’s a beat of silence. A moment where the world around you fades, leaving only the two of you standing there in the dimly lit corridor just outside the medical tent.

Then—

Pedro takes a step closer.

And another.

Your breath catches.

His eyes search yours, something raw flickering beneath the surface. He looks at you like he’s memorizing you, like he’s trying to commit this exact moment to something permanent.

You don’t move. You can’t.

Then, barely above a whisper—

“Don’t do that again.”

You part your lips to respond, but before you can say anything—

Pedro cups your face.

And then—

He doesn’t kiss you.

He hesitates. His breath is warm against your lips, his fingers trembling slightly where they rest against your jaw. He’s so close you can count every fleck of gold in his eyes, so close you can feel the way his chest rises and falls against yours.

You exhale, something between relief and longing tightening in your stomach.

Then—a sharp ahem cuts through the moment.

You jolt, heart still racing, as Pedro pulls back slightly—just enough to let you breathe, but not enough to let you go. His hands remain where they are, warm and steady against your skin.

The medic staff is standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one brow arched like they’ve seen this kind of thing play out before.

“Hate to break up the moment,” they say, voice dry, “but I have some stitches to put in.”

You blink.

Right.

The pain in your arm, dulled by adrenaline and—well, Pedro—suddenly makes itself known again, pulsing in time with your heartbeat. You wince, shifting slightly, and Pedro’s hands immediately fall away.

But he doesn’t step back.

If anything, he lingers, his fingers ghosting over your wrist like he’s reluctant to break contact entirely. His brows furrow as he glances down at your injury. “She’s not gonna need the ER, right?”

The medic shakes their head. “Nah. She’s lucky. It’s a clean cut—deep, but nothing life-threatening. We’ll get her stitched up, give her some pain meds, and she’ll live to tell the tale.”

Pedro exhales, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. But not all of it.

You try to make a joke. “Told you I had good insurance.”

Pedro doesn’t laugh.

Instead, he just looks at you.

The kind of look that makes your breath catch, that makes your chest feel too tight, that makes you ache in a way that has nothing to do with your injury.

He doesn’t say anything, but his hand finds yours again, his fingers curling around yours. He squeezes, just once, before letting go.

“Come on,” the medic says, gesturing toward the exam table. “Let’s get this over with.”

You try really hard to be tough about the whole thing.

You really do.

But the moment the needle pierces your skin, you can’t help it—your breath stutters, your body tensing so hard it actually hurts.

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice is right there, warm and grounding. His hand finds your knee, rubbing gentle circles over the fabric of your pants. “Breathe, cariño.”

You suck in a sharp breath through your nose, blinking rapidly against the sting behind your eyes.

God, this is so stupid. You literally work on a film set—you’ve seen worse injuries, watched stunt performers brush off things ten times more intense. But the sensation of the needle threading through your skin, pulling tight with every stitch, is enough to make your stomach turn.

Pedro must see it written all over your face, because before you can spiral too much, he shifts, crouching beside you so you’re eye level. His voice drops lower, softer.

“You’re doing good,” he murmurs. “Just a little more.”

You nod, swallowing against the lump in your throat.

The medic works quickly, but it still feels like forever. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to think of something else. Anything else.

Pedro.

The way he looked at you before he almost kissed you.

The way he held you.

The way he’s still here, watching over you like he has no intention of going anywhere.

“Almost done,” the medic announces, tying off the last stitch. “You’re a champ. Didn’t even cry.”

Barely.

Pedro doesn’t let go of you. His thumb brushes over your knee one last time before he finally stands, watching as the medic cleans up and starts giving you aftercare instructions.

“No lifting anything heavy for a few days. Keep it clean, change the dressing daily. Try not to move your arm too much—don’t want to pull the stitches.” The medic pauses, glancing between you and Pedro with something suspiciously close to amusement. “And get some rest. I mean actual rest. No overworking yourself.”

Pedro snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined by how utterly exhausted you feel. The medic finishes up, giving you some painkillers and a fresh bandage before stepping back.

“You’re good to go,” they say. “But seriously—take it easy.”

Pedro notices.

Before you can protest, he’s already there, an arm sliding around your waist to steady you. “Alright, that’s enough excitement for one day,” he mutters. “Come on, I’m taking you back to the hotel.”

End Notes:

I’m a sucker for having character A get injured and character B absolutely losing their shit and realizing they could lose them SO FAST and they haven’t even had a chance to love each other yet LOL

YAHHH I KEEP TEASING YA’LL WITH THE KISS IM SORRY— But I swear it’ll probably happen in the next chapter... maybe... 👀

There’s something wonderful about delayed gratification idk why

Pedro probably didn’t want to kiss you in such a situation like that– he’s probs the type to want to do it right.

Also OOoooOOOoo I almost killed the reader lol. How fun.

Again, my apologies for taking so long with this chapter, school is a bitch and I had to lock tf in for a little bit.

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta @suzysface @reidsworld @xmaykeca @dontlookatme121 @mandaloriankait @picketniffler @pedrofan @mystickittytaco @enchantingchildkitten @seven-seas-of-fuck-you @ro-nahime-things @senhoritamayblog @hermionelove

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