How they are when it comes to sleeping - HEAD CANONS
ALL COLLAGES/HEADERS MADE BY ME - DO NOT REUSE
Various drivers mentioned: Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Pierre Gasly and Isack Hadjar
Word count: 686
Authorās note: Helloo! I have three things to say; first off, thank you guys so much for the reception on my two previous posts! It might be little for now, but it still means a lot to see all those likes and I am very VERY happy to see you guys like my writing.
Second, this is my first time doing head-canon stuff! I think itās obvious to say that these are my own head-canons, feel free to agree or disagree with these. The drivers I chose for these are the drivers I like/support - Oscar and Lewis are the drivers I support before anyone else and love the most, the rest are drivers I like and look at during races or just F1 in general, but I wonāt always be on their side and prefer to cheer more for Oscar and Lewis. Nothing against them at all, I just am someone who gets very attached and itās hard to look at anyone else but your favorites at times.
And third, as requests are closed for now, these are the only drivers I wrote something for. However, I could definitely branch out once my requests are open and include some more drivers in these! I will consider it once most of my series have been written/started.
Also one last thing, the plushies I put in each of these headers are the animals I associate with the drivers! Iāve always done this throughout my life, associating an animal to a person I like, I donāt really have an explanation why. Just helps to identify someone better and also I think itās cute? Anywho, if you guys are interested, I can definitely do a head-canon for that too!
For now, please enjoy these head-canons and please tell me if you like this form of writing too! I can consider doing it more often, this is a first time try!
He might be shy, but this man is definitely not against cuddling and spoiling you in bed. Sure, he might put on an exterior for when you come to the paddock for F1 races, but once youāre alone? He becomes an absolute sweetheart.
Cuddles, kisses, soft whispers and little jokes that only you two understand.. Itās maybe the best part about dating Oscar. How his guard drops once youāre alone and he becomes the most affectionate man on Earth you know.
Oscar likes all positions - but just maybe being your big spoon is his favorite. He loves to see you become all shy and flustered when he kisses your neck to tease you.
Heās your cuddly koala every night.
Lewis Hamilton
Lewis is always clingy and affectionate, but when it comes to night? My lord, you become his favorite plush toy.
Heāll wait until youāre properly laying down and ready for him - before wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you to his chest while he leaves pecks and kisses all over your face - reducing you to a giggly mess as you let him get his kisses and spoils out of the way.
Lewis loves seeing your face, so you always sleep with your head resting against his chest.
Once heās done, heāll pull back to look at you fondly - before kissing your lips one last time - and then making sure youāre as snuggled up as possible to have the best sleep you two can.
Lando Norris
Heās like a little puppy once you two get to bed.
His usual peppy energy melts - but only a little, so Landoās always up for some teasing and jokes before bed. He might kiss your neck to see how you redden up and to tickle you, he might even properly kiss you a few times through your giggles. Whatever he can think of that entertains the both of you, but mostly for his own entertainment.
Once heās ran out of energy, the two of you cuddle up - either you against his chest, or Lando will be your big spoon - and youāll chat a little bit with each other, whispering softly until either one of you falls asleep or you both decide youāve had enough.
Then, neither of you move away for the entire night.
Pierre Gasly
Pierreās always affectionate and clingy - usually, all the cameras on the track give him an excuse to kiss your cheek and show you off as his girl.
But now that youāre home with no cameras flashing and nobody to show off to, Pierre always pampers you before your beauty sleep.
Heās like a big labrador - he holds you close, whether itās to his chest or by being your big spoon - and he whispers sweet nothings in your ears while his hands roam over your body, giving you various massages and caresses and of course - itās not Pierre if heās not giving you kisses the whole time.
Letās just say you always get your beauty sleep with Pierre..
Isack Hadjar
Everyone knows Isack is strong. Like, STRONG-Strong.
Not only did you know from his rigorous training, but from the numerous times youād tried to tease him and run only to find yourselves being caught in his arms minutes, maybe even seconds after and being unable to escape his strong grasp while heād tease you back.
Still, when itās time to sleep - this strong and teasing grip you know becomes much more gentle and loving - and it always makes you melt against Isackās chest.
Oh yeah - and you always sleep snuggled up against his chest - no exceptions. Unless you want to feel Isackās strong arms and hands explore your body.. Otherwise, sleeping against his chest is the one and only option.
And you always get the best sleep, because Isack is the best sleeping partner youāve ever had.. Affectionate kisses, holding you close and almost lulling you to sleep with his voice..
Since dating him, you canāt say you slept better before you moved in with him.
SUMMARY ā° When your cousin, the King, receives a threat of overtake, you too become a target. He sends you off to a safe place with Oscar, a loyal knight, as your guard and escort.
WORD COUNT ā° 10.8K
CONTAINS ā° Medieval!AU, the reader addressed with/ feminine terms (princess, lady, woman, etc), the reader is Max's cousin, King!Max Verstappen cameo, hot spring/bathing scene w/ no sexual undertones, Tangled reference if you squint, and a lot of fluff
FEATURING ā° Knight!Oscar Piastri x Princess!Reader
A/N ā° I've been so excited about this one. If you're interested, here is the link to the mood board and playlist!
Rumors had been circling the royal court for roughly eighteen hours. Insiders of the castle, from guards to simple servants, were conspiring with enemy kingdoms to overthrow King Max. He stood as a noble leader, but you canāt be a political figure and still have the entire world be in love with you. There would always be someone out there looking to put a target on your back, and for Max, those people were residing within his own home.Ā
You, the kingdomās beloved princess, were pacing in Maxās solar upon your summoning. Charles, a man you had recognized as his personal guard, came knocking on the doors of your private chamber early in the morning. He explained the situation to you quietly and then whisked you away to wait for Max in the secure location. You noticed that many guards had already been weeded out, as he had likely gone through great efforts only to keep the ones he could fully trust around. The bottom of your slippers padded against the cold tile with every step, and the flowing train of your morning gown dragged endlessly behind you.Ā
When the door creaked open, and Max stepped inside, you wasted no time running to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a close hug. āThank goodness youāre okay,ā you murmured before pulling back, surveying him as if you were looking for any injuries. When you were kids, Max always teased you and said that you were like an old lady, because you were always fussing over him and the rest of the kids, even though you were younger than most of them. You straightened the lapel of his royal robes, fingers looking for something to keep them occupied while anxiety chews at you. āWhy are you still here? You should leave now. You know, head to a safe place while things get sorted out here. Youāre all this place has, you knowāā
āY/N,ā Max grabs your wrists and softly pushes you away. You huff, displeased at his efforts to get rid of you. But that wasnāt even the worst of it. āI canāt leave. I need to stay here. What kind of leader would I be if I fled in the face of danger?ā
āAn alive one,ā you speak as though you know itās hopeless, because, truthfully, you do. No matter what you say, you know you canāt change Maxās mind. Itās already been made up. Heās going to stay, and thatās that. āMax,ā but youāll be damned if you donāt keep trying, āyouāre the only person who can lead this country. They need you.ā
āWhich is exactly why I have to stay.ā
āNo, thatās why you have to leave. If you die, thenāā
āThen itāll be you.ā He says it firmly, as if the statement doesnāt change everything. Youāre speechless, taking a small step back, mouth agape. Surely he was joking? You didnāt know how to rule a country. You were but a lady who loved her people, but that wasnāt the only thing that made a leader. You needed to have political knowledge and to be able to be ruthless. You wanted to hold hands with everyone and sing songs from your childhood while dancing in a circle. āWhich is why I need you to leave.ā
āNo.ā
āYes.ā He sighs, letting go of you and pulling away. Your hands slowly fall to your side, and after a second, you grip your skirt to keep your swirling emotions at bay. āThey love you. Every time I visit the town with you, people flock to you like theyāre willing to sell their souls for a smile. Y/N, you need to go. If you die, itās the end of the world for some people.ā
āBut the same could be said for you.ā You knit your brows together, taking a step to follow him, and then giving up. You sit back, watching him approach one of the windows, hands clasped behind his back.Ā
āNot in the same way.ā He dismisses your statement with a shake of his head. āIām the bad guy. I have to enforce the rules and be harsh. You⦠Youāre the hope. Youāre the good. When war comes, they canāt lose that. They canāt lose you.āĀ Max turns around, running a hand through his short, dirty blond hair. When he opens his mouth, a knock arrives at the door, and he stops. āCome in.ā The door creaks open again, and you watch with bated breath as one metal boot steps in, followed by the rest of an armor-clad body. The knight stands dutifully in front of the door after itās closed, waiting for further instruction. Theyāre about the same height as Max, which doesnāt narrow down their identity any more. āUnmask yourself,ā Max instructs, waiting patiently.
The knight does as theyāre asked, slowly lifting their metal helmet. Soft brunette hair flows out, perfectly framing a face youāre all too familiar with. His features are far too gentle for a knight, littered with a few scrapes and scars that ruin his once boyishly adorable features. Moles decorate his fair skin, which refuses to tan despite the hours of sun heās received. You tilt your head, confused merely by his presence. You hadnāt seen him since he had been promoted to a royal guard, and now here he was, listening in on a private conversation.
āOscar,ā you breathe out, taking a subconscious step forward. You pause, stopping yourself from running to him and giving his cold armor a warm embrace. His gaze shifts to you, and something in that previously stern expression softens. Itās just a split second of tenderness, as if he realizes his own mistakes and is quick to put that hardened front back on. You turn to Max, fingers brushing against his arm in a way that expresses your mellow perplexion. āWhatās going on?ā
āOscarās going to be escorting you.ā Max pushes you aside in such a harsh manner that your heart momentarily aches. You instantly recognize what heās doing, and itās not going to work on you. He wants you to feel the need to run away. To feel as though heās turned so cold that your only viable option is to run. You take a step away from him, throat burning as the tears wait to spill. āA safe house has been arranged. Once itās safe to return, and it will be eventually, Iāll write for you.ā
You want to argue, but heās firm on this decision. If you continue to disagree, you can be sure that Max will have you removed by force. He truthfully canāt guarantee that it will ever be safe again, but thatās the only way he can fully convince you that itās okay to abandon your post for the time being. You nod ā solemnly, albeit ā and slowly make your way to Oscar. He remains stiff by the door, the only movement coming from his eyes, which follow you as you walk around the room. You eye him once, but your gaze quickly shifts away. Something like guilt sits behind your expression ā he notices, but he says nothing.
You peer over your shoulder at Max, whoās already turned back to the window. Thereās no hugging or dramatic goodbyes. Itās just as profoundly quiet as your heart silently aches. Oscar shifts, a movement you take note of. Heās feeling unnecessarily awkward, watching close family part ways in such a dramatic manner. You turn back and place a pure, polite hand on his armored bicep, pulling his attention away from the sorrowful environment and to your warm smile. Itās forced, and he knows it, but itās a temporary relief from such an awkward situation to be in. āWill you come with me to pack my things?ā Your voice is as sweet as ever, almost at a convincing rate. Oscar nods and slips his helmet back on, masking his handsomely juvenile face.Ā
You move to leave, your back turned on your cousin. It would have been the last time if he hadnāt called out, forcing you to gaze at him once more, āWrite to me when you get there.ā You donāt say anything. You nod, instead, and follow your new assigned companion out of the room. Thereās something vaguely familiar about walking beside Oscar through the corridors of your home, which you chalk down to the sensation of being accompanied by a knight when wandering the palace. Yet, a small part of you thinks back to the later years of your childhood. Oscar, the son of a simple blacksmith and baker in the kingdom, would sneak into the castle halls with your assistance, chasing you around as giggles bubbled from your lips until your lady-in-waiting would scold you for associating with a āpeasantā. Nonetheless, youād do the same thing the next week, hoping she would have forgotten the most recent offense. As you stared at his back now, watching his armor-clad body move with impressive fluidity, you had to wonder if he, too, recalled such fond memories.Ā
You packed as small as you could. Oscar was silent as he stood outside the door, waiting for you to wrap up the final moments of your time in your home. This would be vastly different after this, and you knew that. No more being pampered by the workers in the castle or having villagers fawn over you. Now youād be traveling through backroads and sleeping in hammocks high in the tree tops to avoid any potential threats. You kept your tears at bay, following Oscar, who had yet to say a single word, out to the palace stables.Ā
āIāve prepared your horse for you, your highness,ā Oscar finally states, his deep voice muffled by his helmet. Youāre surprised at how mature he sounds now. When he was younger, his voice was deep, but he had that childish lisp in his tone that was now completely gone. He takes your bags from you, skillfully strapping them to the back of Fleur, the horse you had grown up with. She was a tall, lean chestnut thoroughbred that was adorned in a pretty saddle your father had custom-ordered for your birthday years ago. Oscar did a fine job of dressing her up like he would his own horse, who was temporarily sitting in the stall beside her. He was a large, muscular Irish draught that was suited for a knight like Oscar. He was a rich, jet-black color, shimmering in the morning rays as proof of his excellent health.Ā
Like a proper gentleman, Oscar holds his hand out, allowing you to use him as leverage to mount your horse. Youāve ridden her many a time and are familiar with how she moves and what makes her go. Thereās some sort of comfort in being able to ride your own steed, at the very least. As you leave your home, a place you had grown to love and change as your own, you feel as if having Fleur there with you was the last viable comfort. Being escorted by a familiar face was also helpful.
You exit the kingdom quietly, going through a back exit to avoid being spotted. The whole point was to make anyone who saw you as a target believe that you were still tucked away in the main castle rather than venturing out into the surrounding forest with a single guard at your side. Would it have been safer to travel with multiple? Maybe, maybe not. The truth was, the more people, the more suspicious you were. Traveling with just Oscar allowed you to move inconspicuously, especially after he removed a large chunk of his armor. Both of you travel side by side, saying nothing, for neither of you knows exactly what to say. Instead, you listen to the rhythmic stamping of hooves on uneasy ground. āI remember when you used to sneak me flowers,ā you suddenly mention, a fond smile gracing your features. Oscar glances over at you, his head tilted to the side in the same way a cat with piqued interest does. He takes a moment to process what youāre saying. The moment is so long, in fact, that youāre sure he doesnāt remember. āSorry, I just randomly remembered. You probably donāt even recall that, it was so long ago.ā
āI remember,ā he says briefly, looking back to the trail ahead of you. You follow his gaze, feeling awkward for staring at him for so long. āYour tutors were always saying that I wasnāt a high enough class for you.ā You wince at his words, recalling the upsetting words of your superiors. āSo, I dressed in my nicest clothes and brought you flowers that my mom grew in her garden to see if I would be good enough.ā He speaks about the memory so casually, as if it werenāt an entirely unfair moment for such a young child. The two of you were around ten years old when societal pressures began to take hold, and you were torn apart from one of your best friends. No, it wasnāt fair at all.
You want to apologize, even though it wasnāt your fault, but you donāt know what to say. Now he was so important, treated with such high standards, which probably only rubbed in the classism more. Oscar witnessed firsthand how people change their behavior toward you, the higher your class is. He went from being insulted as a peasant to being in charge of a whole region of knights. A significant portion of the change can be attributed to a change in rulers. Max made it clear that he didnāt want variations in kindness to be based on societal level, but instead he wished for everyone to live in peace and judge each other based on character, rather than wealth. Thatās why this sudden mutiny came as a big surprise to many, but alas. Not everyone agrees with such pleasant ideals. So, no, you donāt know how to apologize for something you didnāt do, even though you really, really want to.
āI wish I hadnāt listened to them,ā you say with a gentle sigh. Maybe thatās what you had to apologize for ā for actually listening to the people who made such a fuss about separating social classes. Still, you were so young and impressionable that you were willing to listen to anything your mentors had to say. They were there to teach you, after all. If they told you it was unladylike to converse with a blacksmithās son, then who were you to object? But when you think back on Oscar and his chubby little face with messy, choppy brown hair, you feel endlessly sad for that young boy who was scolded for just existing in a way people didnāt like. āWould you have still chosen knighthood? You know, if everyone had welcomed you with open arms.ā It was indeed a loaded question, but it was one you had been thinking about for a while now. Oscar wasnāt just another knight amongst the masses of shining silver armor, because he was your friend. You knew too much about him, and he probably felt the same about you.
Oscarās fingers gripped the reins of his steed. He didnāt tug or yank, but just held on tight, knuckles pale. You worried for a moment that maybe you had asked the wrong question. Perhaps this was something that upset him, and you wouldnāt be shocked if so. Had you let your long-forgotten friendship finally made you feel overconfident in the closeness of your dynamic? The music of your kingdom faded into the background by now, and the two of you were left only with the sound of light trotting and the gentle clanking of armor from what he had left on. Youāre about to apologize when he finally answers, āAt first? No, probably not.ā He says it like itās hard to, so you remain silent to let him finish with his explanation. Itās just the two of you, subdued in the quiet of the woods with only the trees and the wildlife to interfere. āI just wanted to prove to people I did belong inside the castle walls. I wanted a way past the one line I was always told not to cross. Butā¦ā
āBut,ā you say in a provoking manner, hoping to encourage him to continue with his wholehearted explanation.
āI chose to stay because I believe in the oath I took to protect this kingdom and everyone in it. Everyone. Not just royalty.ā He turns to you, and you can tell that thereās a part of Oscar thatās just a little broken. This was never the life he was intending to lead. He was so young when he joined the Royal Guard, and his whole family had aspired so much more from him. He should have been a blacksmith like his father, or learned the art of baking like his sweetheart of a mom, but instead, he was put on the frontlines of a war he didnāt know the reasoning behind. That changes a man in a way that only he can understand. āPlus, Max is a good leader. I want to protect that.ā
Itās your turn to tilt your head, confused by the sourcing of this statement. He wanted to protect Max, but here he was, sacrificing his life for yours. āIām not Max.ā You say it comedically, like youāre whispering a joke between friends. āYou should be protecting him. Youāre a reliable guard, someone that he can trust. You shouldnāt be out here acting as my escort.ā You pull on the reins of your horse, causing her to slow to a stop. Oscar does the same, instructing his mount to turn around to face you. āWe can still turn back.ā
āNo,ā he says firmly as the horse flips back around, progressing in a slow and steady free walk. Everyone in your life is so damn stubborn, and unfortunately, you donāt have half the heart to stand up to it. Plus, he makes a great point when he says, āProtecting you was an order given by Max. Heād be terribly angry if I failed.ā You bite the inside of your cheek as you trot after him, and when you finally reach his side, he moves his horse into a similar extended jog.Ā
āWhat about now?ā You inquire out of the blue, āWould you still choose knighthood knowing what you do now?ā
āI would,ā he answers without a second thought. His expression is steady and firm, leaving no room for doubt. He was serious. āThere are⦠Things I want to protect.ā He glances at you, but something prompts him to look away in a hurry. You sigh so softly, your shoulders deflating.Ā
Everything felt just a little awkward.Ā
Eventually, the two of you wander off the beaten path and into the thick of the forest. You question his motives, and Oscar explains in a more roundabout manner that this way of travel would do better to ensure your safety. As night falls, your eyelids begin to droop, and you notice yourself losing grip on your reins. You want to mention your exhaustion to him, but he travels so steadily that it seems impolite to make him rest at such an early hour. You yawn, covering your mouth both for the sake of being polite and to stifle the noise you make so as not to raise his attention.
You fail.
He slows to a stop and dismounts his horse, tying it to a sturdy, low-hanging branch before he takes Fleurās reins, guiding her to the same spot and tying her as well. He extends a steady hand to help you dismount and even goes as far as subtly straightening your skirts. He strips both of the horses of their tack wordlessly, setting it off to the side in such a well-organized way. āWhat are we doing? Why are we stopping?ā You ask, standing there uncertainly as you wait for an opportunity to help, which never comes.Ā
āYouāre tired. You need some rest so we can keep traveling tomorrow,ā Oscar explains as if it were undeniable. You feel your cheeks grow a little warm, embarrassed at how quickly he was to pick up on your sleepiness. āSit,ā he instructs, gesturing to a log that heās draped a blanket over. You obey, but youāre instantly unable to get comfortable in such a seat. He diligently starts a fire, which rids you of your goosebumps and warms your shivering body. You hoped that he would sit after that, but no. Oscar instead begins setting up a tent, buried deeper in the forest. When he comes back, he looks a bit groggy, but he surveys you carefully. āWhatās wrong?ā His voice is tender, like heās scared anything he says will cause you to shatter instantly.
āIs it pretentious if I say I am not fond of sleeping outside in a tent?ā You follow your question with a short laugh to convince him that youāre not being entirely serious. He went through all that effort for you, and you were going to show your gratitude by sleeping soundly through the night, whether you liked it or not. āWill you be sleeping in there also?ā
āNo,ā he shakes his head, sitting on the same log as you, though heās a ways away. āIāll be keeping watch.ā
āBut where will you sleep?ā
āNowhere. I need to ensure your safety.ā You frown at his words, which prompts him to stare at you until he has to turn away because you just look so sad. āIāll be fine.ā
āYouāll be tired,ā you correct, arms crossed over your chest. It was finally your turn to be stubborn. āHow will you protect me if you canāt even keep your eyes open? I donāt want to hear anything about ābeing used to it,ā either, because itās proven that a knight with little to no sleep is only subpar!ā You huff at the end of your rant, and Oscar is rendered speechless. āAt the very least, let us take turns keeping watch.ā
āIām supposed to protect you. Not the other way aroundā¦ā
āIāll run away if you donāt listen.ā Desperate times call for desperate measures. Momentary panic flashes through his eyes, but you can tell that not long after, he calls your bluff. Even if you did run, which heās pretty sure you wouldnāt, you wouldnāt get very far before Oscar caught up to you. He was trained to have precise speed and strength. You, on the other hand, were not.Ā
Nonetheless, he gives in. āAlright. Iāll wake you if I get tired, but for now⦠Rest.ā You search his gaze for any sort of lie, but after deeming him truthful, you retreat into the tent for the night and let yourself drift to sleep. Hours later, he wakes you up so he can squeeze in a quick nap while you sit inside the tent, listening for any sort of threat. When youāre both alive and on guard, you pack up your things and leave for the day.Ā
āDo you know exactly where to go?ā Your question is based on Oscarās occasional change of direction. Heās not following a path, and as far as you know, he has no map, so his movements appear to be random and sporadic. You go for a while without questioning him, but eventually the skepticism catches up to you, and it kills you not to ask if he truthfully knows where heās going.Ā
āI do.ā You can see the corner of his lips curl up when he says it. Oh, itās undeniably soā Sir Oscar Piastri is smirking! You hadnāt thought it was a stupid question. āDo you not trust me?ā
āI never said such a thing!ā You say defensively, frowning at such an accusation.Ā
āWell, if I canāt promise you anything else, then I can promise you this: I know where I am going.ā He gives you such a mature, grown-up smile that youāre left momentarily dumbfounded. Oscar was respectable when you were kids, but he was also childish. He ran around the castle, made a ruckus, and went with his tail tucked between his legs when your mentors scolded him for daring to set foot on royal grounds. Now, everything he did was meticulous and calculated. He was, no doubt, a practiced knight. āJust to ease your mind, your highness.ā
You continue to follow along after him, murmuring under your breath upon the passing of a beat, āI never said thatā¦ā but Oscar only chuckles, which appears to be a pretty pleasant sound. You canāt help the way you soften at his affable tittering, finding it reminiscent of your younger days once more. You were sure Max had carefully orchestrated this whole ordeal. It was just like him to pick a guard who could effortlessly take your mind off the dire situation, and one who could do it just by existing at that.
āWeāll be coming up on a small village soon. Itās safer to pass through it, as the surrounding area is heavily populated.ā Oscar stops to let you catch up, but also so he can reach into his bag. He withdraws a long, thick cloak and tosses it to you. āYouāll need to wear that to disguise yourself. If anyone recognizes you, it could ruin Maxās plan.ā
āWouldnāt it be safer to just go out of the way and around?ā Despite your suggestion, you tie the cloak around your neck and pull the hood up, letting the tattered fabric drape over your humble skirts. You had made the choice of wearing something less flashy for the journey, yet still retained your honor as a high-class lady in doing so. The sun beat down on you, heat sinking in through the heavy fabric.Ā
āNo. It would extend the journey by a couple of days, and we just canāt afford that time right now. The sooner we get there, the better.āĀ
āWell, if youāre looking to disguise me,ā you say, adjusting your cloak, āThis wonāt be enough.ā
When you both arrived at the village, Oscar deemed that you looked nothing like the princess he was used to. You traded fancy skirts for a torn, ragged gown that you intentionally dragged through the dirt before slipping on. You tucked your plaited hair into a linen scarf beneath the cloak, with the hood doing wonders to shade your face. You looked just like any other lady who wandered about the village. You both had dismounted, choosing to lead your horses by the reins over mossy cobblestone walkways that weaved between humble cottages centered around a large stone well.Ā
Music echoed off the crowded walls, and the smell of fresh bread wafted from an unknown source. You glanced at Oscar to find him smiling, something you attributed to the familiar reminder of his mother back home, who was probably just pulling out a fresh loaf from the oven to sell. Nicole, a woman you loved to visit whenever you were able to sneak out into the town, was a delightful baker and a respectful one at that. She had denied many offers to work in the castle, claiming she was just happy with her quaint shop. Who could blame her?
He was anxious as he led his horse, worried that the first real person to lay their eyes on you would instantly recognize that face. To him, it felt obvious, for he had spent ages staring upon your beauty and committing every little detail to memory. You pass by a small child and her mother, walking hand in hand. The little girl makes a sound of awe, pointing at the large horses with flair. Her mother tries to stifle her, but you stop.Ā
āWould you like to pet her?ā You ask softly, leaning down to her height. Oscarās heart is racing for various reasonsā For one, it was adorable to see, but also his fingers were twitching around the rein as the woman studied your face. When the little girl nods shyly, you look at her mother. āWould that be okay?ā
His shoulders ease when she responds with, āYes.ā No further questioning who you were, or examining you so closely. She was most likely just looking to see if you posed a threat. He stands to the side, unable to hold back a smile as you lift the girl up, holding her close to Fleurās face. She was a palace horse, which meant she was considerably well-behaved compared to the average pony and was well-mannered in letting a small child stroke her muzzle. You set her down, and she wears a big smile as she wanders back to her momās side, clutching her hand once more.
āThank you, pretty lady!ā You grin at the innocent compliment, waggling your fingers in a sweet wave as the two continue on their merry way.
āOf course!ā You look back at Oscar, and he catches your contagious grin, though he tries to hide it when he turns away. āWhat a cute little village,ā you say, clapping your hands before continuing to walk along the rough cobbled path. You approach the well in the center, stopping beside an older woman whoās scooping up the water into a bucket. You peer over the edge, eyes wide. āWow, itās so clear!ā
āItās rich with minerals. Very replenishing,ā the older lady speaks kindly, wrinkled eyes crinkling up in a kind gesture. Oscar stops on the other side of the lady, taking a peek into the water himself. You examine her as she sets one bucket down and then picks up another. Upon being asked what she was doing, she informed you, āIām taking the water to my granddaughter. Sheās sick in bed, and itās hard for the family to leave her alone.ā She looks solemn.
Of course, being the kindhearted woman you are, you glance at Oscar with big, round eyes that make him sigh. āLet me help,ā he says, reaching for the buckets that are already full. Heās strong and capable, allowing him to carry most of them without even breaking a sweat. āWhere are you taking them?ā She looks up at him, in awe of both his strength and generosity. Both of you worry, for just a second, that this could blow your cover, but she doesnāt think twice, thankfully.
āOh, thank you, young man. Follow me!ā So the two of you trail behind her. Oscar carries the buckets while you guide both of the horses. āAre you two passing through?ā
āYes.ā
āWeāre headed back home,ā Oscar says quickly, but inconspicuously. She, thankfully, buys his story and doesnāt question it further.Ā
Eventually, you arrive at a particularly run-down building, which you quickly discover is the source of the delicious-smelling bread. The front half is a small bakery, the display case filled to the brim with various baked goods. āOh dear,ā the grandmother murmurs. āSheās been stress baking againā¦ā
You all step into the threshold of their home, located at the back of the building. An older gentleman wanders out of a room, eyes widening at the sight of you and Oscar standing in the main entrance of his home. āOh my,ā he clears his throat, fussing over straightening the decor and floor mats. āI didnāt think weād have visitors.āĀ
āWe just came to deliver your water,ā Oscar explains with a nod. The man, whom youāve deduced as this ladyās son, given their various similarities in physical features, takes some of Oscarās workload and guides him to a different room to set everything down.
The grandmother smiles at you warmly, placing a hand on your cloaked shoulder. āHeās quite the sweet boy,ā she says as she pats you twice. You, confused by her statement, just nod and smile.
āMay I take a look at the bakery?ā You ask as Oscar steps back into the entrance, running a hand through his hair. After a day of travel, it remained effortlessly intact, flowing so beautifully from his scalp. You were jealous.
āOf course.ā The old lady nods, but remains where she is, which tells you sheād be staying there while the two of you venture off again. āSafe travels, you two. And thanks again for the help.ā
āOf course.ā When you shut the door behind you, Oscar sighs. āWhat?ā
āYou are far too kind, your hāā
āY/N,ā you correct. āIām not a princess, remember?ā
āRight.ā
You both approach the stand at the front of the bakery. The hanging sign is crooked, and the roof is a bit wobbly, but itās a cute little shop nonetheless. A woman anxiously wrings her hands as she surveys her surroundings, a frown etched on her features. Yet, the moment she lays eyes on the two of you, she perks up. āWelcome!ā She sputters out quickly, rushing to stand at the front of the stand.
āGood morning,ā you greet, examining the contents of the display case. You tug on Oscarās sleeve, bringing his attention to you and away from the womanās face. No doubt the mother of the sick child. āWhat looks good?āĀ
He studies the contents, and you take note of the way his eyes seem to sparkle. You follow his gaze to a plate of lamingtons. It was a traditional delicacy in Oscarās home, something his grandmother had always made. You tried them a few times, and you had to admit they were quite delicious. But he shakes his head softly, tearing his gaze away. āYou can get whatever youād like, yourā¦ā He clears his throat. āY/N.ā
āSome of those lamingtons, please,ā you point to the sweet treats with a smile, and then turn your gaze to the few items sitting on top of the counter as she hurriedly bags up your order. āAnd a loaf of bread. Please,ā you add on, making sure to keep your manners. She tells you the exact price, and you dig around in your little coin purse, offering over that and more.
āOh,ā she says, counting the money. āI think you made a mistake.ā
You hand the items to Oscar, who looks like an overexcited child at the sight of the familiar treats inside the bag. But, before he indulges in such a delight, he puts them in his saddlebag to save for later, making sure they wonāt be crushed. āNo, itās alright,ā you say, pushing her coin-filled hand back towards her. āKeep the change, maāam.ā
She glances down at the money, tears brimming in her eyes. āThank you,ā she murmurs, turning away to hide her shameful tears. You smile before you grab Fleurās reins and continue along, giving her some privacy to handle her emotions. Oscarās shoulder bumps against yours, and you turn to him with a curious look.
āI didnāt know you liked lamingtons,ā he says with a teasing grin.Ā
āWell, theyāre not my favorite,ā you say with an easy shrug. āBut I bought them for you. Think of it as a thank-you gift.ā
Once again, heās taken aback by your sheer generosity. After handling that ordeal, it should have meant that you two could now leave without any further problems. But of course, it wasnāt that easy. Things were never that easy. The town had been eerily quiet, but he had chalked it up to it being a workday, which meant people were probably out in the surrounding forest fulfilling their responsibilities. But as you neared the plaza, the music grew louder, and with it came the sound of stomping feet and cheering.Ā
Oscar looks disgruntled at the sight of people dancing in a circle as a live band plays a tune. Itās catchy, given how you bop your head and move to the beat of the music, but itās also a poor sign. Large crowds meant it was easier to be spotted. His shoulders were tense the closer you got. "What's going on?ā You ask, unable to stop grinning.Ā
āSome sort of festival, Iād assume.ā He moves forward, unrestrained by their contagious joy. But you, who was more susceptible to lighthearted fun, tugged on his sleeve to stop him. He looked at you, your eyes big just as they were moments ago when you silently asked him to help the old lady. āYour highness,ā he murmurs, looking down at you with restraint. āWe need to keep moving.ā
You look at him, and then back to the townspeople. You were hypnotized by swishing skirts, clapping hands, and braided hair that spun out with every twirl. āPlease? Just for a little while.ā It reminded you of the grand balls your family used to throw at home, or the big festivals they held in the town. You always had so much fun dressing up for the occasion and dancing with whoever tickled your fancy for the night.Ā
He hesitated, but eventually gave in. āFine.ā You clap your hands cheerfully. āBut we have to stay along the edges!ā
You agreed, but it wasnāt your fault when the two of you were being ushered out into the circle by a woman just a few years older than you. Her hair was pinned back by a beautiful hairpiece, probably a family heirloom, and her young eyes were filled with mirth.Ā
āYou two should join,ā she says with a large grin, examining the pair before her. You stood close without even realizing, your shoulders brushing in such an intimate manner. āHusband and wife, yes?ā
Oscar freezes. You, however, remain calm. āYes,ā you say gently, covering for his panic before she grows suspicious. It made more sense for the two of you to be a traveling couple. In fact, it was the perfect front. Or, at least it would be, if it werenāt for the fact that his cheeks were a deep rosy red.Ā
āWell!ā She claps her hands and then pushes both of you from the small of your backs towards the circle. āCanāt have a couple sitting to the side! Enjoy the festivities!ā
You both stumble into the circle, laughter bubbling from your lips as Oscar looks utterly dumbfounded at this situation. āThis is not what I meant by staying near the edge,ā he grumbles.Ā
You only smile, eyes full of a barely contained laugh. āItās fine. A little dancing wonāt kill you.ā
āIt might. I donāt dance,ā he says it urgently as youāre both swept into the music, moving alongside skillful dancers who flow effortlessly.
āEveryone says that, and everyone is usually lying.ā
āI mean it. Iām terrible,ā he says shamefully, shaking his head.
āIāll teach you, then. The Royal Court likes its traditions,ā you mutter for only him to hear, and then you watch as his cheeks bloom into a pretty pink color that rivaled the sky of a setting sun. You guide his hands into position. One rests on your waist, and the other is intertwined with yours. You led him to the best of your abilities, but it was hard since you were usually the follower when it came to dancing. āStep together. Now turnā No, not that wayā!ā You watch hopelessly as Oscar stumbles into another couple, who look surprised at the intrusion.Ā
āSorry!ā You both say at the same time. Thankfully, they laugh at the little mishap, but Oscar looks somewhat mortified. āDid they not teach you to dance? Knights are supposed to take chivalry classes.ā
āI always skipped those.ā
You take note of his visible stress, and you slide your hands up to his shoulders. āBreathe,ā you instruct quietly, looping your arms around his neck as the music comes to a slow. You shift closer. He looks down to watch your feet, but you keep your gaze pinned to his studious expression. āSee? Youāre learning.ā
āI am not,ā he mutters stubbornly. āIām just surviving this hell.ā
āOh, quit being dramatic.ā You noticed how his anxious grip loosened. His fingers were no longer digging into your hips, but were now resting on them respectfully. āYouāre doing great.ā
āI stepped on you,ā he pointed out.
āOnly once.ā
āTwice.ā
āWell,ā you laugh, and his chest tightens. āNo need to keep count.ā
He spins you naturally, eyes pinned to your face as you grin in the afternoon light, delighted by his skill. The music shifts again, and you both take it as an exit, jumping out of the circle with shared, quiet laughter. Your arm remained locked around his, despite there being no need.
āSee, wasnāt that fun?ā The same lady from before beamed at the two of you. Her hair was down now, cascading over her shoulders beautifully. āYour wife is an excellent dancer.ā She clasps Oscarās shoulder, shaking his hand and murmuring something under her breath that you donāt quite hear. However, he seems flustered after the fact.Ā
āWell,ā you say, still grinning despite the secrecy. āHeās learning!ā He tugs you away, and you turn to give the woman one last wave.
āSafe travels!ā She calls out, waving back with a dramatic flair.
āSorry,ā you murmur when youāre away from the plaza, relocating your tied-up horses. He helps you mount Fleur, taking his time with checking her tack before he does the same himself. āFor being a hindrance, I mean.ā You take the reins, leading her into a small trot once heās ready to go.
āNo need.ā He shakes his head. āIt was fun, honestly. Plusā¦ā He reaches into his saddlebag, pulling out one of the pastries you bought earlier. āThis was a nice surprise.ā
āI knew it,ā you murmured with a cheeky grin. āIām just glad you didnāt mind me playing along with the whole husband and wife thing.ā
Oscar nearly choked, but he slammed his fist against his chest and nodded. āYeah⦠I didnāt mind,ā he repeats, much softer this time.
You spend the next two days traveling, much to your dismay. Thankfully, by the third night, you had grown accustomed to sleeping in a tent and actually found it quite relaxing. When you were bored and waiting for Oscar to wake in the early hours, you would write down little notes and doodles in the journal you had packed with you.Ā
Night was falling again, and you were still traveling deep in a forest. He was continuously making sporadic turns, which would not pique your interest. How did he know this route so well? It was as if it had been imprinted into his mind. This area of the forest was icy at night, causing you to shiver even as you tightened the cloak around you. Oscar, who was riding beside you, took note of your frigidity. āCome on,ā he says before suddenly changing directions once more. You both progress into a gallop as he leads you through the forest.
Finally, a small, rickety cabin comes into view. It took about thirty minutes of straight galloping, but when Oscar comes to a stop, you feel absolute relief. The mere idea of getting to sleep inside a warm building rather than freezing to death in a small tent is enough to make you want to cry. Even if just for one night, this cabin has already provided you with so much joy. He dismounts his horse, pulling him under a small awning at the side of the cabin and tying him up. He, as always, helps you off your horse as well. But before he can take all the gear off and tie her up, you take charge and start to do it yourself.
āYour highness,ā he murmurs, confused. āI can do it. You should be resting.ā
āIf anything, you should be resting. Besides, this saves us time!ā You declare firmly. He decides itās not worth arguing and allows you to take care of your own horse while he tends to his. You stroke her muzzle, praising her softly as you tie her up. She nuzzles against you, making you giggle at the warm gesture. Oscar tells you to stay put while he checks out the inside of the cabin, but when he exits, he gives you a thumbs-up to let you know itās safe. You gather the things youāll need for the night and carry them inside with his help, laying them out by the bed tucked in the corner. āHowād you know this was here?ā
āItās marked down in our map room,ā he explains as he crouches down by the fireplace, tossing in a few logs. āItās for when we travel, so we have a warm place to stay, especially in the winter. I figured you could use a break from sleeping on the hard ground.ā
āThatās very sweet of you.ā
āPlusā¦ā He smiles to himself. āThereās a surprise in the back.ā You tilt your head, and he looks up at you with a slight grin. āCome on.ā He momentarily abandons the fireplace to lead you to the back of the cabin. You see the steam curling up from behind a small brick wall before you actually see the source, but your heart is hammering with excitement.
You gasp at the sight of a natural hot spring. The water is steaming, flowing under the reflection of the moon above. Itās clear enough to see the smooth bottom, with makeshift seating arranged on the sides. āThis is incredible,ā you cheer, clapping your hands. You were in desperate need of a real bath, and not just rinsing yourself with a bit of the water supply and a small bar of soap.Ā
āThe waterās warm. You should rest.ā
āYou wonāt?ā
āIāll⦠Keep watch.ā He hesitates, shifting in his typical awkward fashion. Youād think days of traveling would bring you closer ā and it has ā but he still has his walls up. Not that you can blame him.Ā
āYouāve kept watch for days. Please, I want you to rest too.ā You can see the way he hesitates, but finally his reservation breaks, and his whole body seems to ease. You can tell youāve managed to convince him, so you clap your hands cheerfully once more.
āAlright.ā Still, he turns away and allows you the privacy to change without any prying eyes. You peek at his form curiously before slipping out of your worn clothes and then stepping into the spring. Instantly, your muscles relax as the warmth soaks in, drawing out a long sigh from your lips. You lean back against the edge, eyes shut in total relaxation.
The spring is tucked away between mossy stone walls, the steam curling upward in slow, lazy spirals. The sky had long since transformed into a deep, silky indigo, littered with shimmering, diamond-like stars. You felt as though you could sit in the water for eternity, letting the warmth fight off the frigid atmosphere of the forest.Ā
āGo ahead,ā you whisper, turning your back to him to allow him the same privacy he had given you. You wait until you hear the water rippling to turn back around, seeing Oscar hiss as he settles into the warm water. It stings at first, but then the serenity of the fresh minerals and snug water seeps in, and you feel entirely at peace. You sit across from each other in the small spring, legs brushing together every time you dare to move.Ā
He gazes at the water, wanting to remain respectful by avoiding eye contact. The water reaches your mid chest, but the steam has settled in a thick layer over the top, allowing your nude body to remain masked by the spring, and his as well. You, however, are intrigued by the faint scarring that peeks out above the water, running down from his shoulder.
āMay I ask,ā you begin, hoping you donāt offend him, āHow did you get that scar?ā You point to the one in question. He glances down at where your finger was gesturing, and his fingers trace along the pale, faded line embedded into his skin.
āOh, thisā¦ā He begins solemnly, sighing dramatically. āThe first battle I ever went into⦠I was fighting this guy, and his sword slashed right through my armor, leaving me to bleed out. I almost died.ā
You gasp, hand covering your mouth in such a formal manner. āOh my goodness! Are you serious?ā You raise your brows, shocked that you had never heard such a tale.
And then he laughs so easily, and you feel your cheeks begin to warm. āNo,ā he says honestly, looking quite pleased with his little trick. āIt happened during training. Someone made a mistake and cut me with their sword. It healed quickly, but it did hurt.ā
āAh⦠You tricked me.ā You jut your bottom lip out in a bit of a pout, and his face is stricken with panic when he gazes at you.
āSorryāā
Your turn to giggle. His expression fades into confusion as you hide your laughter behind your palm. āI was just teasing. Iām glad you feel comfortable enough to joke around.ā Your gaze turns fond when you look at him, and for a moment ā just a moment ā you catch him staring. It wasnāt in the same way your suitors did. They looked at you like you were a prize, somewhat hungry for beauty and glory. It wasnāt the way the townspeople looked at you, either. They glanced at you like you were sunshine personified, basking in your bright presence. No, this was different. This look was so uniquely Oscar that it was hard to put a finger on it, but eventually, you reduced it to being pure, unadulterated adoration.Ā
āThis is the first time Iāve felt seen,ā you breathe out like itās a confession. Youāre surprised at your own words, blinking with confusion.Ā
Oscar looks confused, and he shifts his head in that cute tilt. āYouāve been seen your whole life, your highness.ā He wasnāt wrong. Since the day you were born, hundreds of people have been constantly keeping an eye on you.
āWatched, yes,ā you say clinically, āBut seen? Thatās different. I feel like you see me, Oscar. The real me.ā
āWell,ā he begins, unsure of what to say. He knows what he wants to say, but he refrains, because now isnāt the right moment. Not when youāre vulnerable and opening up to him. No, thatād be cruel. āIāve seen you since we were little,ā he mutters, eyes steadily pinned to you. āYouāre the kindest person I know, Y/N.ā
He proves your point without even realizing it when he addresses you by name rather than a formal title. You inch closer, water rippling as you wade through it. You donāt touch, besides the occasional brush of his foot against your leg by mere accident, but you feel years closer.Ā
āI remember when I was first told that I shouldnāt talk to you.ā You say it so softly, recalling the memory as if it were poisonous. You sink back into the water soberly, your expression nothing short of somber. āI never understood why kindness was supposed to have limits. I was meant to be prim and proper for the nobles, but I didnāt have to bat an eye at those beneath me?ā
āI remember, too,ā he says. Oscar recounts the tale with a smile, but you decide itās him being sympathetic to you. He knew you hated those rules when you were younger, and nothing came as more of a joy than Max becoming a king and striking through all those unspoken rules when he opened the castle gates to the public for events. There was no longer a division between the people. āI used to think youād forget about me. Hattie always teased me for continuing to pick the flowers even though I wasnāt allowed to give them to you.ā
āI never did forget.ā
He looks at you, the steam clouding his view, but in his eyes, youāre nothing short of perfection. Even now, when your face is coated in a thin layer of dirt, and your hair is sticking out every which way, he knows youāre utterly flawless. He sucks in a short breath before admitting, āI was in love with you, then.ā
You blink, unable to mask your surprise. āOscar?ā
He leans in closer, just a smidge, but itās enough to take your breath away. Your eyes trail down to his lips, tracing the details of his face now that heās so close. But then he pulls back, and your immersion is shattered. āWe should head back inside,ā he whispers, his face so close you can feel his soft breath against your face.Ā
āYeah,ā you say, pulling away as well. āRight.ā You turn away, allowing him to step out of the water and dry off before dressing himself. Oscar turns his head to the side and shuts his eyes, extending a warm cloak for you to wrap yourself in when you get out. You dry off and then change into a fresh set of clothes, leaving the old ones out to dry on a rock beside the spring.
He starts a fire while you work on toasting some of the bread you bought at the last village. Itās not much, but itās still something. Plus, it tastes better when warmed up. You sit by the fireplace, your shoulder brushing against his as you drape a warm blanket over both of you, snuggling up under the wool. You split a piece of bread in half and offer him the bigger side. Oscar, however, is clearly not having it and trades with you, much to your dismay.Ā
āSomething wrong?ā He asks, prompted by your slight frown. You shrug, but heās already read you like a book. āWorried about Max?ā
āYeah,ā you say meekly, nibbling at your bread. He scoots just a bit closer, letting you lean your head against his shoulder in such a warm manner. You feel at home with Oscar sidled beside you, his warmth radiating off his body. āI just hope heās okay.ā
āHe is. I know it.ā
āYou canāt promise that, though.ā
āIām fairly certain,ā he says with a soft smile, handing you his last bite of bread. You want to deny, given that you already ate the bigger side, but your stomach rumbles, and youāre not gonna say no when youāre in such a sad state. āHe has a whole kingdom to fight tooth and nail for him. A few insiders wonāt change that. I mean, heās going against a kingdom notorious for the fact that itās never successfully overthrown another country.ā
Truthfully, that does make you feel better. You nod and snuggle in further, letting your eyes shut as you drift off into slumber, feeling much better after his sincere reassurance. He sits there, frozen as you sleep on him while he watches the fire. If you asked him to burn alive in that fire⦠For you? He would.
He lifts you with ease, carrying you to the mattress and burying you under the thick blankets. You stir, blinking at him with bleary eyes. āShh,ā he hushed softly, brushing hair from your forehead. āGet some sleep.ā
You lazily tug on his sleeve. Once again, heās struck by those cute eyes of yours, and heās unable to say no. You sleep soundly that night, tucked against his chest, feeling right at home despite being miles away.
When you arrive at the safe house in the following days, you feel relieved that youāre able to relax after days of travel. The place is nice, allowing you to fully relax for the first time since you arrived at the cabin and the hot spring. This time, you can bathe for real, allowing yourself soap and hot water. You take care of your hygiene first, and then you sit down at a table in the main room, rays from the rising sun shining in through the window as you work on writing your letter. Oscar is asleep on the sofa, finally getting some much-needed rest after looking after you for so long.
When he finally wakes up, he takes a shower himself and then takes your letter, which is folded up neatly in a pretty envelope. He dresses for the day, pulling on a cloak. āWhere are you going?ā You inquire gently, fidgeting with your hands under the table. Traveling had been able to take your mind off things, but now that you were actually at the safe house, you were reminded of what was going on beyond those walls.
āIām gonna head into the nearby village,ā he says, reaching out, tousling your hair affectionately. āIāll deliver your letter to the post office and get some supplies. You need a real meal.ā You give him a pointed look, and he smiles. āAnd so do I.ā
āAlright. Be safe, please.ā You squeeze his palm. He can tell that you feel uncertain, so he squeezes it back, offering you a warm expression.
āI will, I promise.ā
He stays true to it. Around two hours later, Oscar rides back. He puts his horse in the stable before carrying everything inside, setting it all out on the counter. He got food to last a few days, as well as a few other essentials that he kept tucked away in a bag in the corner. You eyed it curiously, but first helped him put everything away.
āWhatās this?ā You ask finally, reaching for the bag. He quickly snatches it away, holding it behind his back. āHm?ā
āYouāre not allowed to see yet,ā he says with a bright smile, making your aching heart feel a bit lighter. Itās enough to brighten your day. āItās a surprise. I promise Iāll show you eventually.ā
The next few days are slow and steady. You cook together, make little crafts together, and ride out in the forest together. Oscar even teaches you the proper ways to swing a sword, with your hands on your hips to steady you as you grip the handle with both hands. You werenāt particularly significant, but he praised you nonetheless, staring at you as if you were the best swordswoman around.
He rides out into town one day and returns with a letter in his hand. He takes off his cloak, hanging it up by the door before delivering the letter to you. You open it with nimble, shaking fingers, hoping it is what you were wishing for.
Dear Y/N,
I am happy to announce that the safety of our kingdom has been secured, and it is now safe for you and Oscar to begin your journey back home. It was a hard-fought battle, but in the end, we prevailed as a strong, united country. I am eager to see you and Oscar again.
Sincerely,
Max.
You feel tears brim in your eyes as you read the letter, jumping up to embrace your dutiful knight. His arms loop around your waist, and he laughs into your neck, holding you dangerously close.
āOh, Iām so excited!ā You pull away, looking into his eyes with newfound mirth. He was just happy to see the light return to you. You were good at faking it, but Oscar could tell that you had been feeling down the past few days, constantly worried about the state of your home.Ā
āStay put,ā he whispers, slowly letting you go. You watch him retreat into the bedroom that you had been respectfully sharing the past few nights, keeping your distance under the covers, and then waking up tangled in each otherās arms. He comes back out and offers you the mysterious bag he had come back with a few days ago. āOpen it.ā
You do. You peel apart the top of the bag and retrieve its contents. Itās a beautiful gown, and in your favorite color too. You hold it up, soaking in all of its beauty with utter awe. āOscarā¦ā You glance at him, and he shifts like heās unsure what to make of your reaction. āOh, itās beautiful. But why did you wait?ā You fold it up, tucking it into your arm.
āI wanted it to be a celebration. Something to remember the occasion.ā You pull him in close, your forehead pressed against his.
But you donāt kiss. Not yet.
The journey back home was far shorter than the way up. You can now travel openly without worrying about being recognized. You passed through that same town again, saying hello to a few familiar faces who were awestruck upon the revelation of your true identity. But nothing brought you more joy than getting to ride back onto castle grounds, being welcomed by hundreds of familiar faces.Ā
You caught up with every castle servant when you arrived home, spending time getting familiar with your home once more. You had spent days out there, away from home, and it made you even more grateful for the life you lived. The only part that disappointed you was that Oscar was now back to his regular duties, which gave you minimal time to see him.
See, while you were getting accustomed to the few changes that had been made, Oscar was arranging a private audience with the king. Max was happy to see his friend back in one piece, alongside his cousin, whom the kingdom was pleased to find safe and sound after the incident that took place.Ā
He drops to his knee before his majesty, head bowed with utmost respect. āYour highness,ā he begins. āIām here to ask for your court's permission and marry your cousin, Princess Y/N. I am here not as a knight, but as a man who harbors nothing but respect towards such a beautiful, kindhearted woman. I want to preserve her joy and protect her smile for eternity. So I ask, please, if you will grant me this honor.ā
āItās about time,ā Max scoffs, clearly pleased at such a formal request. āI have no reason to say no, Sir Oscar Piastri. You have proven to be nothing short of a loyal and dutiful knight. I see the way you look at her, and I recognize your endless love. All I ask is that you treat her with the kindness she deserves.ā
Heās taken aback by the fact that Max was well aware of his feelings of courtship, but promises to honor his wish anyway.Ā
Oscar meets you in the courtyard. You walk arm in arm through the small garden, discussing memories from when you were kids, and making new ones. But when he stops, you spin around on your heel to see why.
āOh my God,ā you whisper, hands flying to cover your mouth. Heās fallen to one knee, back straight as he extends you a velvet box. Inside sits a shimmering ring that catches the sunlight and reflects across your beautiful gown. āOscarāā
āMy princess,ā he says with that cheeky little grin. āWill you do me the honor of making me the happiest man there could ever be, and will you marry me?ā Before you can answer, he adds on, āIāve already been granted the kingās permissionāā
āYes!ā You interrupt, pulling him to his feet, and he stumbles and laughs as you pull him into a warm embrace. āOf course I will marry you, you fool!ā
And finally, youāre able to share a tender kiss under the lantern light of the garden. The same gardens you once played in as kids.Ā
He stands there, awestruck by your beauty for a solid second before he steps forward. āThis is an exception, because itās important.ā You relax, your expression softening when he stops in front of you. āYou look beautiful, by the way.ā He pecks your lips, hand grazing your cheek, before he pulls away. āTurn around.ā
You do so slowly, the train of your dress twisting up in the turn. He helps you straighten it out before he gathers your hair. His fingers graze against the back of your neck, making you shudder. Oscar places a gentle kiss on the exposed skin of your neck before pulling your hair up and pinning it in place.Ā
āThere,ā he murmurs against your scalp as he kisses your head. āLook.ā
You turn to the side, gasping in such a gentle manner at the sight. The elegant hairpiece of the woman you met months ago in a passing town was now adorning your hair, complementing your beautiful gown perfectly. āOscar, how did youāā
āShe gave it to me that day,ā he says as he begins to fix up his work. He was always so gentle with you. āTold me that it was a good luck charm, and would bless us with a successful marriage. Youāre meant to pass it down, like an heirloom.ā He steps back, admiring his work. āDo you like it?ā
āLike it? Oh, I love it. Thank youā¦ā You turn to face him, both of your faces somewhat flushed. Itās quiet as you pull him closer, eyes shut, foreheads pressed together. āI love you,ā you whisper.
āI love you too.ā He pulls back, though his hands linger on your waist for a second longer. āIāll see you down there, then.ā
someone to hold me down ² ⸻ lando norris x reader .
read part one here !
featuringĀ landoĀ norrisĀ ,Ā loveĀ islandĀ auĀ ,Ā strangersĀ toĀ friendsĀ toĀ loversĀ ,Ā slowĀ burn
wordĀ count 20.3k (part two)
authorāsĀ noteĀ sorry i'm late ... do you guys still love me be honest š„ŗšš don't blame me !! i wanted it to be perfect for yall !! i'm so endlessly grateful for all the love on this silly silly fic .Ā i truly wrote this one for me , and the reception is completely unexpected and totally incredible so i want to thank you all so much for your patience and for coming along for the ride . you make me so so happy to be able to share my writing with you all <3 and on god lando norris will be getting at least one win this weekend (his girl!!!!) asĀ alwaysĀ letĀ meĀ knowĀ whatĀ youĀ thinkĀ !!Ā titleĀ isĀ fromĀ cameĀ hereĀ forĀ loveĀ byĀ sigalaĀ Ā !
playlist listen to nothing beats a jet2 holiday here !
āStop looking.ā
āIām not,ā you lie, pushing your sunglasses up your nose as you watch Carlos trace circles on Emmaās bare arm by the pool.Ā
āOh, so your jawās just doing that clenchy thing all on its own?ā Lando raises his eyebrows at you. āMight need Camilla to check you for TMJ, then.ā
You force yourself to relax your face, turning over on the daybed to face him. āSee? Perfectly chill. No medical intervention needed.ā
āRight, because chill people definitely need to announce how chill they are,ā he snorts, but his smile is soft, understanding. Itās the same smile youāve been giving each other for the past week as youāve leaned on each other to heal the pieces of your broken hearts. āWant me to go spill my smoothie on him?ā
āTempting,ā you sigh. āBut Emma borrowed Nicoleās bikini, and it doesnāt deserve to get caught in the crossfire.ā You pretend to adjust your top casually, stealing another glance across the pool. Carlos is massaging her shoulders now. You let your jaw tick, just once. āBesides, weāre above petty revenge plots.ā
āSpeak for yourself. Iāve been perfecting my accidental shoulder-check technique all week just in case you ask.ā
This is what you love about Lando ā even when everything feels like itās crumbling, he still manages to make you laugh. The two of you chose each other again at last nightās recoupling, both too emotionally bruised to put yourselves out there with anyone new just yet. Plus, itās been easy being coupled up: no expectations, no pressure, just the two of you. Helping each other until your real perfect match hopefully walks through the doors.
Georgiaās laugh rings out from the kitchen, bright and performative as Jack whispers something in her ear, and Lando tenses. Just slightly; probably no one else would notice it. But spending practically every second of the last week with your best friend means you can read him better than most.Ā
āThatās it,ā you say, hauling yourself up and grabbing his hand. āEmergency best friend intervention. Weāre going to the gym to bother Oscar and Lily because weāre too cool to care about our exes.ā
āAre we too cool to care?ā he questions, but he lets you pull him to his feet.Ā
āNah,ā you say, grinning. āBut weāre pretty good at pretending.ā
When you get to the gym, Oscar drops down from the pull-up bar, immediately engaging Lando in the complicated handshake theyād spent the entire afternoon yesterday creating.Ā
āYour afternoon entertainment has arrived,ā you say dryly, sitting on one of the benches with Lily as you watch the two of them. āAKA, weāre avoiding Carlos and Georgia.ā
She scoots over, making room for you. āUnderstandable. How are you two doing today?ā
āBetter than expected,ā Lando says cheerfully, snapping Oscarās towel at his thigh. āGot my girl here, got you guys. Trying not to pay attention to the rest.āĀ
āShocking,ā Oscar deadpans, snark made slightly less effective by the fact that he has to jump away from the towel. āWho could have predicted that surrounding yourself with decent people would make your experience better than⦠whatever that mess was.ā
āHey, we learned from our mistakes,ā you protest, smiling. āEven if we were kind of forced to.ā
āSometimes people need a push to realize whatās right in front of them,ā Lily says, and thereās something pointed in it you canāt quite figure out.
āIām just happy I donāt have to pretend to like Carlos anymore,ā Oscar says matter-of-factly as he picks up a pair of free weights, sitting on the bench opposite you.
āYou didnāt like him?ā you ask, surprised.Ā
He shrugs, starting his reps. āHe wasnāt good enough for you.ā A rush of warmth swells in your chest at the brusque sincerity of his voice.Ā
āAgreed,ā Lando says quickly, poking at Oscarās shoulder to mess with his form.
Oscar pauses mid-bicep curl, swatting at the other boy. āOi. Can you not?ā
āAw, but itās so fun to wind you up, Osc,ā Lando grins unrepentantly, and you canāt help the laugh that bubbles out of you.
Oscar raises an eyebrow like he canāt believe you find his antics amusing. āChrist, you two really are made for each other,ā he mutters, and Lando kicks viciously at his shin under the bench, cheeks pink.Ā
You glance at Lily, and she shrugs a little too innocently. Before you can demand an explanation for why everyoneās acting like theyāre in on a joke you know nothing about, Georgeās voice booms across the lawn.
āI got a text!ā he bellows, and your heart sinks. You should have known thereād be a challenge coming; the recoupling was too chill. The audience could have seen George and Gemma getting back together from a mile away, and even though Max and Charles switched between Chloe and Camilla, theyād only been together a little over a week, so there was barely any drama to it. If the best footage they got was you and Landoās extended post-recoupling bit about the four of them being swingers, theyāll definitely need some more content to spice things up.Ā
George unfolds all six-foot-one of himself, towering over the beanbags as he reads. āIslanders, itās time to find out how well you really know each other in todayās challenge, Knowing Me Knowing You. Answer questions about your partner to win points, and the couple with the most points will win a special prize. Hashtag couple goals, hashtag brains over bants.ā
āI think weāve got a proper shot at this,ā Lando says, ever-competitive, slinging his arm around your shoulders as you walk to the firepit. āThereās Osc and Lily, but other than that everyoneās only been in a couple for, like, three days. We know each other.ā
āAnythingās possible,ā you say neutrally. But heās right ā you do know Lando. You know so much about his family and his close friends they practically feel like yours, know he hums when heās happy and rubs the back of his neck when heās nervous. You know he likes to fall asleep listening to Bob Dylan and that he tells people his favorite movie is Fight Club, but itās actually How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. You know the way his eyes twinkle when heās being sarcastic and the wrinkle that pops up on his forehead when heās concentrating. You could teach a class in Lando Norris at this point, if you wouldnāt be the only one interested in taking it.
āWeāve got this, cariƱo,ā Carlos says, and your head snaps up on instinct. Heās ostensibly talking to Emma, but heās looking straight at you with a smug smirk on his face, like even after he got everything he wanted, he canāt resist twisting the knife a little further. You know he intends it to be vicious, but if youāre being honest, it actually feels sort of pathetic.Ā
Lando squeezes your shoulder tight, and when you look at him you can see the muscle in his jaw working, like heās angry again on your behalf. But you just smile, grabbing two of the heart-shaped chalkboards from the pile on the firepit and handing one to him. āBring it on,ā you say, tapping your board against his, and he beams.Ā
George and Gemma play emcees for the afternoon, standing on the other side of the firepit with a stack of question cards. They explain the format, which seems simple enough: they ask a question about one of you, and you both answer it. If you match, you get a point. George taps the cards against his hands like heās trying to even a stack of papers, and you think absentmindedly that he was kind of born to be a game show host.
āRight,ā Gemma says, squinting as she reads off the card. āFirst question is for the boys. What is your partnerās biggest green flag in a relationship?ā
You tap the chalk against your board, thinking, but Landoās already scribbling as if he knows what youāre going to say before you say it. Someone who remembers the little things, you write finally, immediately wondering if itās too complicated to get.
āAlright, letās see those answers,ā George says plummily. One by one, the couples reveal their boards. Oscar and Lily go word-for-word perfect; Georgia and Jack are laughably off; Molly and Yuki match with nice butt and air high-five across the firepit.Ā
Youāre last, and you find yourself holding your breath as Lando turns his board around. āI said attention to detail-slash-the little things,ā he reads off his board. When you turn yours around to show the same answer, the grin he gives you is blinding. We got this, he mouths exaggeratedly, pointing between the two of you. You roll your eyes in return, but youāre smiling back.Ā
The game rolls on, some couples doing better than others. By the third round, Emmaās rolling her eyes so hard at Carlosā wrong answers you think they might stick that way. You try not to take too much pleasure in watching them crash and burn. Georgia and Jack donāt fare much better, although they actually seem to have had at least one conversation; Jack just keeps overthinking his answers, his chalkboard a mess of smudged white marks every time he flips it around. Charles and Camilla do fine, while Max and Chloe scrape through with a few lucky matches. You catch Landoās eye, and when he grins back at you mischievously, you know heās wondering whether they would have done better with their original partners too.
Franco and Nicole and Molly and Yuki do surprisingly well, holding their own, and George and Gemma sail through along with them. But the challenge really comes down to Oscar and Lily against you and Lando.Ā
Question after question, youāre in perfect sync. When the girls have to guess their boyās favorite place, you match Landoās answer of mum and dadās for sunday roast perfectly. On the next question, he nails what you think your worst personality trait is (laughing at inappropriate moments, which is immediately proven when Carlos and Emma miss their fifth straight answer and you burst into giggles).Ā
āLast question,ā George says, and you can tell he loves stretching out the moment of suspense. āWhat is your boyās biggest fear?ā
You donāt know how you know the answer ā a gut feeling, maybe, or just the instinctual way you understand him. But you know it as soon as you hear the question. You scribble your answer hurriedly, looking up for a moment to watch Lando write, tongue poking at the corner of his mouth.Ā
When itās time to hear your answers, Oscar says letting people down while Lily writes hornets (which was a good guess, to be fair; heās told you the story of his harrowing escape from the wasps in his bathroom at least twice in the past month.) But they miss all the same, and that means it all comes down to this answer, to you and Lando.
āI said never being taken seriously,ā you say, flipping your board.Ā
Lando blinks, staring at the board and then you like youāve peeled back a layer of his skin. Suddenly, your body floods with panic that itās too much, too raw and real of an answer for a stupid villa challenge.Ā
He turns his board around, and you read the messy scrawl: not being taken seriously by the people i care about.
āAnd with that⦠perfect score! You and Lando are our winners,ā Gemma grins.Ā
āGet in,ā Lando cheers, smile megawatt-bright as he tosses his chalkboard into the air. Before you can really process it, he darts across the deck, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you clean off the ground. He spins you in a circle, and for a moment youāre weightless, forgetting everything except how lovely it feels to really and truly know someone and be known in return.
āOi, put me down, you maniac,ā you giggle, breathless, and he obliges, setting you down on the deck. His hands rest warm on your waist, and when you look up at him the light catches in his eyes, that same indescribable color youāve been studying for weeks.Ā
Theyāre everything, you think suddenly. The ocean, the grass, the entire sky.Ā
Your laughter dies in your throat. In your chest, something clicks into place.
Oh. Oh no. This cannot be happening. You cannot be feeling what you just unmistakably felt for your best friend.Ā
āMate, your phoneās buzzing,ā Oscar points out, clearing his throat, and you donāt know how long you just stared into Landoās eyes. It could have been seconds, and just as easily could have been years.Ā
Lando blinks hard, stepping back from you just slightly as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. āCongrats,ā he reads, voice rough. āAs the winners of todayās challenge, youāll be spending the night in the Hideaway.ā
Thatās when you know production wasnāt expecting you two to sweep the way you did. Theyāre sending you to the Hideaway. As in, the only separate bedroom in the villa, where established couples get to go once theyāve proven their commitment to each other, or whatever bullshit you remember them saying so that they could finally spend a night alone. The Hideaway is where things happen. And youāre headed there, in a platonic couple with the guy youāve just realized you do not have platonic feelings for.
You feel your cheeks flame as everyone cheers. Lando grins, playing into it as he grabs your hand. āRight, see you all tomorrow morning then,ā he jokes, like he can pull you across the lawn and through the picket-fence gate right now. You force a laugh, hoping it sounds lighter than the thundering heartbeat in your chest.
āNot so fast,ā Gemma says, looping her arm through yours, and you glance over at her unsurely. āWeāve got to get our girl ready.ā
Youāre not sure you even want to know what she means.Ā
āThis is ridiculous,ā you mutter into your hands an hour later. Youāve been sitting in the bedroom having the same argument for nearly the entire time, and youāre starting to feel like youāre losing ground. āWeāre not even a proper couple.ā
āSorry, hun, but theyāre not budging on this,ā the producer shrugs. āLove Island tradition. You go to the Hideaway, you wear something nice.ā
āAs in nice pajamas?ā you ask hopefully, and the stare she gives you in return is withering.Ā
Lily and Gemma are sitting by your feet, already rifling through your suitcase. āOh, your friends from home prepped you well. This one is perfect,ā Gemma says, holding up a pink satin bustier you didnāt even know you owned.Ā
You shake your head. āAbsolutely not. I canāt show up in that.ā You look pleadingly at the producer. āWeāre friends.ā
āCāmon,ā Lily coaxes, pulling out a lacy black bodysuit. āWhat about this? Itās classy.ā
āItās see-through!ā
āOnly a little bit,ā Gemma adds, entirely unhelpfully.
The producer checks her phone. āLook, everyone is waiting downstairs. You need to be ready to go in fifteen minutes. Try to get her in something that isnāt so⦠sleepover with your nan,ā she says imperiously to Gemma and Lily, promptly bustling out of the room.
You immediately flop back onto the bed, pressing your forearm over your eyes. āIs it possible to die from lingerie-inflicted mortification?ā
āProbably not, but weāre about to find out if someone can die from stubbornness,ā Gemma singsongs cheerfully. āJust try something on, at least? If you hate it, youāve got about⦠five hundred more options in here.ā She looks up, slightly stunned. āYour friends actually might have gone a bit overboard. DId they even pack you anything else?ā
āThese are all too much,ā you groan, sitting up and letting your fingers slide over the soft fabrics. āItās already going to be awkward enough.ā
Lily raises an eyebrow. āYou and Lando are practically attached at the hip in here. Since when is hanging out with him awkward?ā
Since about an hour ago when I realized I might be falling for him, Lily, you think and think and think and do not say.
āIs it because itās the Hideaway?ā Gemma asks sympathetically. āI mean, he knows theyāre making you dress like this. Landoās a good guy. Iām sure heās not, like, expecting anything because of it.ā
āEveryone else is,ā you mumble, fidgeting with the edge of a silky orange babydoll set thatās more sophisticated than overtly sexy.Ā
āSo? You know the truth of your relationship,ā Lily says, and you are way too overwhelmed to parse the careful implication of her tone. āThatās what matters.ā
āHeās your best mate,ā Gemma adds. āHeās not going to care what youāre wearing.ā
Thatās the problem. You want him to care. You want him to look at you and feel the air shift around him, knocking him breathless. You want this to matter to him the way youāre realizing it matters to you.Ā
You sigh, holding up the babydoll. āThis oneās okay,ā you say tentatively, and Lily claps like youāve just told her youāre giving her a million dollars and Oscar on a silver platter.Ā
You let the two of them apply your makeup, tame your frizz, and for a moment it feels like home, like going out with your girls on a Friday night. The ritual is soothing, even if itās the furthest thing from real life. Exactly fifteen minutes later, youāre ready to go, and if you have to do this, at least you know you look good. The babydoll floats around your hips, and Gemma worked magic with your hair, wrangling it into voluminous, tousled curls that tumble around your face.Ā
āYou look incredible,ā Lily squeals, bouncing on her tiptoes as she looks at you in the mirror.Ā
Gemma nods approvingly, fluffing your curls and admiring her handiwork. āLandoās not going to know what hit him.ā
āFriends, Gem,ā you remind her halfheartedly as you walk to the door. When you peek through the crack, you can see everyone gathered at the bottom of the steps, and your heart begins to hammer against your ribcage.
āWhatever helps you sleep at night,ā Gemma says idly, noticing the anxiety youāre sure is written all over your face. For a moment, youāre worried sheās going to try to calm you, but she grins wickedly instead; you shouldāve known sheās not the sentimental type. āAlthough hopefully tonight you wonāt be sleeping much.ā
āTo be clear,ā you reply dryly, āon your first night back in the same bed with George, youāre hoping that I get some?ā
āWhat can I say?ā she shrugs. āA win for you is a win for me.ā
You exhale, half laugh, half steadying breath. āJesus. Okay. Letās go before I lose my nerve, yeah?ā
You walk down the stairs on wobbly legs, and the cheer that goes up from the group is deafening. Franco is whistling with his fingers in his mouth like heās trying to hail a taxi. Carlosā jaw is tight, but fuck it. Youāre not here for him. There is exactly one person you want to see at the bottom of that staircase, and heās already looking at you.Ā Ā
When your eyes find Lando, heās shirtless. You really should be used to it at this point, inoculated against it from sleeping in a bed with him every night, but itās genuinely distressing how fit he is ā the long lines of his torso, waistband of his boxers slung low over the sharp cut of his hips. His ears are pink, and you watch his eyes drop from your face to your bare legs and sweep back up again.Ā
āWhat, nothing to say?ā you ask when you get to the bottom of the stairs. Banter you can do. Banter is safe. Safer than the way heās looking at you, gaze making you unsteady on your feet.Ā
āFucking hell,ā he exhales shakily, like he canāt keep the words in, and your blood positively shimmers in your veins.Ā
āYou look nice, too,ā you say, only a little breathless, and he slings his arm around your waist, squeezing your hip reassuringly. His hand stays there through the goodbyes, through your walk across the lawn to the picket-fenced house; itās warm through the thin fabric of the babydoll, and you really need to stop noticing how big it is if you want to keep the small shred of sanity you have left.
As soon as you walk through the gate, the noise of the main villa disappearing behind you, you know the Hideaway is going to be exactly as ridiculous as you feared it would be. Thereās a goddamn heart-shaped hot tub tucked into the garden outside, as if anyone in their right mind would want to sit in boiling water when itās already hot enough outside to fry an egg on the pool deck. When Lando pushes the door to the main room open, the first thing you see as you duck under his arm is the massive bed, scattered with rose petals. Then the champagne, sweating in an ice bucket that matches your water bottles, two sleek crystal flutes and a plate of melted chocolate strawberries sitting beside it. Then the candles, flickering low around the room. Itās like they designed the entire thing specifically to make two people fall in love in the cheesiest way possible, which is wildly inconvenient considering youāve just realized youāre already halfway there.
The two of you hover just inside the threshold like youāre both afraid to take a step. For the first time since youāve been coupled up, silence actually feels awkward; usually, you can talk about anything, make each other laugh without even trying, but the weight of what this room is supposed to mean seems to be dragging the conversation down.
Finally, Lando clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. āWell. At least they didnāt cheap out on us.ā
āRight,ā you snort, dropping onto the edge of the bed like youāre testing it. āBecause nothing says luxury like room-temperature Prosecco and fake rose petals.ā
He presses a hand to his heart teasingly, joining you on the bed, and the tension loosens just slightly in your chest. āI always knew you were a romantic.āĀ
The mattress is massive enough to comfortably fit at least three more people on it, but somehow he ends up close enough to you that your knees bump against each other. āAt least the bedās comfy. And we donāt have to listen to Max snore tonight,ā you say. āI might just go to sleep and leave you to the champagne and strawberries.ā
āNot a chance,ā he replies tartly, stretching catlike to reach the bottle behind him, and your mouth goes dry at the way his muscles twitch under his skin. āWeāre making the most of this. When else will we get to have more than one watered-down drink a night in here?ā
He wrestles the cork free, and it pops with a bang that makes him yelp and you double over with laughter when he looks at you with a sheepish grin. Champagne spills pale-gold over his fingers, curled around the neck of the bottle, and your brain goes blank at the image for just a moment until he hisses, swinging the bottle away from the duvet because he knows you hate sleeping in a messy bed. āShit, get the glasses āā
Youāre already reaching, holding a flute against his hand to catch the runoff. Once the drink calms, he pours two messy drinks, more foam than anything else.Ā
āCheers. To absolutely smashing everyone today because weāre just that good,ā you say, raising your glass once youāve finished properly roasting him for his atrocious technique and refilling both flutes.
His eyes are warm as he tips his glass against yours. āTo knowing each other better than anyone else.ā
The bubbles burn down your throat, fizzing somewhere just under your skin. It doesnāt take long before you abandon the flutes entirely, easy banter progressively returning as you pass the bottle between you. Youāre usually not much of a drinker, but the liquor makes it easier, somehow ā more possible to pretend thereās a universe where this could be real, where Lando could see you as something more than the best friend you know you are to him.Ā
āI still canāt believe we won,ā you giggle later, tipsy as you slug from the bottle and pass it back to him, settling clumsily against the mountainous pile of heart-shaped pillows. āI mean, did you see Carlosā face?ā
The candlelight flickers against Landoās expression as he takes it from you, swigging and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. āYou still thinking about him?ā
You shake your head, surprised to realize the answerās no. āNot the way I used to, at least,ā you say, trying to think when the warm brown eyes in your dreams got replaced with blue-green. The answer, much earlier than you thought, makes you slightly nauseous.Ā
āCan I ask you a question?ā he says as he flops next to you, loose-limbed, and props the bottle between the two of you. āWhat did you ever see in him?ā
The question unbalances you, champagne making your thoughts fuzzy around the edges. āJesus. Straight to the point, Lan. Where did that come from?ā
He bites the inside of his cheek. āThinkinā about what Osc said earlier. He was right, you know. I watched the two of you for weeks and I kept thinking ā he doesnāt get it. Doesnāt get you.ā
āYou wouldnāt say that if you were still friends with him,ā you say softly.Ā
He props himself up on his elbows. āYes, I would,ā he insists, voice stubborn even as his words blur at the edges. āYou dimmed yourself down for him. Held back jokes, pretended you werenāt as brilliant as you are. It was like⦠I dunno, like you were fitting yourself into a box of who he wanted you to be, not who you actually are.ā
You curl your knees into your chest; your turn, now, to feel like youāre being flayed open by how easily Lando sees you. Your voice is small when you finally respond. āMaybe thatās how people like me best.ā
āNot me,ā he says fiercely, cheeks flushed hot, probably from the alcohol. āI hated watching it. You shouldnāt āā he breaks off, running a hand through his curls. āYouāre not meant to make yourself smaller. You deserve someone who wants all of you.ā
Your heart skips a beat in your chest. The champagne makes everything feel golden around the edges, bathed in a soft, glowing light. Itās blinding you; you canāt quite tell if the way heās looking at you, wide-eyed and painfully earnest, is real or just wishful thinking.Ā
āSo do you,ā you whisper, so close now that you can see the tiny scar on the bridge of his nose: a miniscule slice of white against tan skin, imperfection that only makes him annoyingly more beautiful. His stupidly long lashes flutter, head tipping towards yours, and for a second, you think his eyes drop to your lips.Ā
You could do it: lean forward and kiss him right now. It wouldnāt even be a movement, really. More like gravity, like some unstoppable force beyond yourself. You can almost swear Landoās leaning in too, just slightly, breath catching ā
Then he blinks, swallows hard, and reaches for the bottle between you instead. āWe really did drink the whole thing, didnāt we?ā he says, voice too light, carefully casual as he places it on the nightstand. āShould get some rest, or itās gonna be rough tomorrow.ā
Itās sobering; the moment dissolves like champagne bubbles over your tongue, leaving no trace it was even there at all if it werenāt for the way your lips are still tingling with a phantom kind of ache. You yank the duvet over your bare legs, suddenly cold.Ā
āRight, yeah, bed,ā you stutter out, cheeks burning as you roll onto your side, practically on the edge. Ridiculous, you are. Reading too far into a look, a couple of friendly, half-drunk compliments. You should know better. You have to know better, or youāll lose him for good.
He climbs in on the other side, and for a moment youāre sure heās going to stay where he is, space stretching like an ocean between you on this far-too-big bed. But then the mattress dips, and an arm slides carefully around your waist, the same way he holds you every night.Ā
āNight,ā he mumbles into your hair, lips brushing unmistakably against your temple as he pulls your body tight to his.Ā
āNight,ā you whisper back and donāt go to sleep, face buried into the pillow praying he canāt feel how fast your heart is beating. It doesnāt mean anything, the familiar warm press of his chest against your spine, the curl of his arm around your waist. Youāre tired and tipsy and you misread things. You didnāt even want to kiss Lando; it was a trick of the Hideaway, making your feelings more overwhelming than they will be tomorrow.Ā
By the time you let your eyes close, youāve almost told yourself enough lies to convince yourself you imagined the whole thing.
Almost.
Itās been a week since the Hideaway, and you think you might genuinely be going insane.Ā
For someone whoās made a living off reading peopleās wants and needs, youāre finding that youāre woefully unprepared to understand your own desires. Youāve spent the past seven days in a perpetual state of unraveling, caught between wanting to act like nothing has changed and wanting to grab Lando by his annoyingly perfect face, demanding to know whether what you thought you felt was real. If anything, youāve settled for overcorrecting ā going louder, sillier, like nothing happened between the two of you even as you lie awake every night staring at the ceiling cataloguing the smiles he gives you. You donāt sleep much, which isnāt ideal considering itās absolutely exhausting to spend every second of every day pretending youāre not head over heels for your best friend.
The recouplings are happening with increasing speed now; you canāt tell if itās just how the show works as summer stretches on, or if the producers are trying to hack the system, to force you and Lando out of the friendship couple you keep wishing was more. Last night, Franco shocked everyone by picking Georgia at the firepit, sending Nicole and Jack packing in what felt like the first truly unexpected dumping of the season. You cried, of course, even if Nicole could be prickly sometimes. For the past month and a half, youād been family; home smelled like her designer perfume in the morning, the one that always made Oscar sneeze when she sprayed it. You honestly didnāt realize how much you would miss them both.
It only makes sense, then, that tonight is the first public vote. The news earlier that the audience had been choosing their favorite couples sent the villa into a tizzy; finally, after weeks, you get to hear what the country really thinks of you.Ā
āI feel absolutely vomitrocious, babes,ā Gemma says in typical dramatic fashion as you all get ready, applying her mascara with shaking hands. āWhat if Georgie and I are in the bottom?ā
āYou wonāt be, Gem. You two are funny, theyāll like that,ā you reply soothingly, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach. You had no idea where you and Lando stood with the public. How could you even begin to guess how best friends where one is hopelessly in love with the other would read to the entirety of the UK?
Lily paces around the glam room, hands fiddling with the hem of her dress. āWhat if they hate me and Osc?ā
Georgia raises an eyebrow from the other side of the room, arms folded across her chest in a state of preternatural calm; as the newest couple, she and Franco have immunity from getting dumped. If you were a less charitable person, youād wonder if she knew the vote was coming, somehow. āOh, be fucking for real, Lils,ā she says evenly, gaze flicking over to you. āSome people have got real problems.ā
You all file out to stand in front of the firepit together, and you try not to think about how every time you do it, it feels more and more like youāre lining up for an execution. Lando slips his hand into yours as soon as you settle next to him, squeezing it tightly, and you let yourself cling to the small comfort even as Georgiaās words pulse grimly in the back of your mind. Some people have got real problems. No one wants to watch someone pine after their best friend all summer.Ā
Itās quick, efficient, bloodless: the production teamās cameras go up, and the host steps in, clearly meaning business in near-blinding glam that even in your nicest dress makes you feel like the last girl left on the bleachers at a school dance.Ā
āIn no particular order, our top four couples,ā she says, and you brace yourself for impact.Ā
Lily and Oscar, receiving the news with gracious, relieved smiles. Gemma and George, who hug each other as tightly as they can, nearly toppling over in a futile attempt to not let go. Molly and Yuki, who look at each other with a pleased sort of surprise on their faces as they sit. You and Lando.
You and Lando.
āHoly shit,ā you breathe as Lando immediately sweeps you into a hug, fingers burying into your hair as he crushes you against him.
You can feel the shaky laugh in his chest before you hear it, low and warm in your ear. āDidnāt think we had a chance,ā he whispers, voice muffled against your shoulder.
āMe neither.ā You donāt pull back, donāt even try; youāll take the feeling of him as long as you can get it.Ā
Thereās a pause, then, and when he speaks again itās almost wistful. āGuess theyāre seeing something weāre not.āĀ
The two of you make your way to the couches, numb, Landoās hand still intertwined with yours like a lifeline. āNot so fast. The night isnāt over yet,ā the host says, smiling toothy, almost sharklike. āAs the top four couples, you have to decide which of the bottom three couples youād like to dump from the island.ā
You stare at the pairs left on the other side of the firepit ā Charles and Camilla, Max and Chloe, Carlos and Emma ā and the floor falls out from under you.Ā
āThis is fucking awful,ā Oscar mutters as the eight of you close rank to deliberate, rubbing a hand over his face. āHow are we meant to choose?ā
āIt canāt be Charles and Camilla,ā George replies. āI mean, Iām biased, I know, heās my best mate in here, but theyāre a strong couple. Have been since they got together.ā
āIf Iām being honest, I love Max, and I came in with him and all, but⦠he and Chloe arenāt exactly setting the villa on fire,ā Molly says, picking at her cuticles nervously.Ā
āHarsh,ā Yuki grins, and inexplicably, you think he might be kind of loving this. āBut true.ā
āWe could do Carlos and Emma,ā Lando says, voice low. āItād make things easier.āĀ
Thereās a suspiciously absent postscript, you think. A missing for you that should be tacked onto the end of his sentence. After all this time, he still wants to shield you from having to watch Carlos with someone else, as if youāve thought about anyone not named Lando Norris for weeks.
āNo,ā you say, and seven heads swivel towards you. āNot them.ā
Lily touches your hand gently. āNo one would blame you. Not after everything he put you through.ā
You shake your head. āLook at him.ā You jut your chin towards Carlos, who has his arm wrapped protectively around Emmaās shoulders, speaking low and soft into her ear as she takes deep breaths. Two weeks ago, the sight would have splintered you, but now the ache feels distant, like it happened to a character in a novel youāre reading. āHeās moved on, and so have I. I donāt want to punish him for finding someone. Not when it doesnāt matter to me anymore.ā
Saying it feels like setting down a weight youāve been carrying since Casa Amor. Lando goes very still beside you, looking at you with something unreadable in his eyes, and you try in vain to tamp down the all-too-familiar flutter in your chest.Ā
Gemma clears her throat. āMax and Chloe, then?ā
Everyone nods, subdued, the decision landing weighty and final in the middle of your little circle. When Oscar speaks the words, Charles and Camilla fall into each other, and Emma jumps into Carlosā arms, sobbing her thanks over and over. He holds her gently, catching your eye over her shoulder with a strange cocktail of gratitude and shame warring in his expression.Ā
You give him a small nod of acknowledgement, and it doesnāt sting as much as you thought it might. For the first time in the villa, Carlosā happiness doesnāt cost you a thing.
Lando finds you in the bathroom later, after youāve all said your goodbyes and shed your tears over Max and Chloeās departure. Youāre brushing your teeth, scrolling through photos youād taken earlier of Oscar and Lily posing in front of the sunset.Ā
āThat was really kind of you,ā he says as he walks in, no preamble. āWith Carlos. I donāt think I could have done it.ā
You spit, catching his eye in the mirror. āIt wasnāt about him, really,ā you reply, voice soft. āI did it for me. To prove to myself Iām not stuck in all that hurt anymore.ā
His shoulders relax as he watches you wash your toothbrush in the sink. āProud of you,ā he says simply, and it does something stupid to your heart.
āProud of us,ā you say, trying to make it sound light. āTop four. Not bad for a friendship couple.ā The words feel like gravel in your throat.Ā
His smile falters just slightly. āRight. Best friends. Come to bed when youāre ready? Think I need a cuddle after tonight.ā
You trail into the bedroom not long after him, and heās already waiting ā duvet flung back, arm outstretched just for you. When you slip under the covers, you immediately melt into his side, and he tucks his face into your hair, breathing you in like heās trying to center himself.
āBetter,ā he murmurs, half-asleep and so sweet that you wish you could bottle it.Ā
You let yourself sink into the safety of his hold, the feel of his arms heavy and anchoring around your waist, and tell yourself youāre okay with just this. That you can keep pretending, at least for one more day, that this is enough.Ā
When you wake up, itās to Landoās arms still around you and a telltale, heart-stopping ding!
He groans, stirring behind you. āYours or mine?ā he mumbles blearily, and you pointedly ignore the way your heart kicks at the sound of his sleepy voice.Ā
Wriggling out of his grip, you sit up, glancing at the nightstand where your phone glows in the darkness. You unlock it, flipping over to face him and squinting against the bright glare.Ā
āAlex is waiting outside the villa to take you on a date. Hashtag double trouble, hashtag summer of love,ā you whisper, hands trembling.Ā
Lando sits bolt upright. āNew bombshell?ā
āGuess so,ā you say, trying not to let panic creep into your voice. āWhat do you think they mean, double trouble? Is he, like, a twin or something?āĀ
Like clockwork, Landoās phone buzzes on his nightstand, and with a sinking feeling you realize exactly what the producers meant with their stupid, unclever little hashtag.Ā
āOlivia is waiting outside the villa to take you on a date,ā he reads, eyes scanning the screen and voice carefully light, like this is just another delightful twist in your summers. āHashtag double trouble. Hashtag summer of love.ā
You laugh, and it comes out all wrong, high-pitched and raw around the edges. āWell. Makes sense, doesnāt it? Weāre the only friendship couple, and if we made it to the top four like that, we must be fan favorites.ā You hug your knees to your chest like they can protect you from this latest emotional blow, the fact that you are literally going to have to sit there and watch some other girl sweep him off his feet. āTheyāre trying to give us the fairytale ending.ā
Lando flops back onto his pillow, staring up at the ceiling. āRight,ā he says dully. āExactly what everyone wants.ā
The quiet stretches between you two for a moment, heavy with everything you canāt say. Youāre grateful, at least, for the darkness of the bedroom; thereās a small kindness in the fact that you donāt have to look at Lando right now, donāt have to hold yourself back from admitting that you wish you were going on a date with him instead the second you see his face.
āWell,ā you say into the silence, artificially chipper, ābetter get ready, then. Donāt want to keep our perfect matches waiting.āĀ
Heās the one to get up first, and you watch him get ready like watching a car crash, unable to tear your eyes away even as you try not to look. Heās rifling through the hangers in his wardrobe, curls still messy from sleep, t-shirt riding up and exposing a sliver of skin at his waist as he reaches for something tucked deep into the closet. Your mouth goes traitorously dry at the sight.
āWhat do you think?ā he whispers, holding up the white knit button-up that stands out against his tan and makes his shoulders look unfairly broad.Ā
You think Olivia, whoever she is, will be lucky if she doesnāt melt into a puddle on the front lawn from the sheer force of his hotness.Ā
āYeah, looks nice,ā you manage instead, as casually as you can. āI like that shirt.ā
He flushes crimson, turning back to his closet to look for shorts, and you can feel your stomach churn. Every careful choice feels like evidence heās excited for the date, excited for someone whoās exactly what heās looking for. Excited to leave you behind.
You flip through your clothes with unnecessary intensity, fingers closing around a dress and pulling it out without looking. You go to the bathroom to change, and itās halfway over your head before you realize itās the soft blue one Lando complimented weeks ago, hyping you up before the first full evening youād had to share with Carlos and Emma.
You shake the thought off, pulling the door open, and Lando gapes, eyes sweeping over you quick and almost desperate. āYouāre wearing that?ā
āWhatās wrong with it?ā you say, tugging at the hem self-consciously.
āNothing,ā he says quickly, buttoning his shirt with shaking fingers. āNothing, you look āā he cuts himself off, scrubbing a hand over his face. āAlex will love it.ā
Right. Alex. Because God forbid you forget who all your effort this morning is supposedly for.
āWe should go,ā you say, and it sounds hollow. āDonāt want to keep them waiting.ā
When you emerge from the villa doors for the first time in five weeks, Landoās beside you, arm around your shoulders, and for a moment you think you could pretend this is a date just for you. Until you see the two tiny wrought-iron breakfast tables sitting cruelly close together on the front lawn, one bombshell for each of you sitting like prettily wrapped presents behind them.
The guy ā Alex, you remind yourself internally ā breaks into a smile, standing up to greet you. Heās tall, almost gangly, with a warm smile and a boy-next-door type of charm. āLovely to meet you,ā he says as he extends his hand to you for a handshake; you can tell he really means it, which makes you feel about a hundred times worse that all you can do is compare him in your head to the boy standing by your side.
Lando practically hip-checks you out of the way to get to Alex first, shaking his hand with a grip that makes the taller boy wince. āNice to meet you, mate,ā he says, voice pitched deeper than normal, and you hate the way itās definitely for the bombshellsā benefit. He launches into a rambling introduction that gives you time to turn to the unfortunately unbelievably stunning girl next to you. Sheās all caramel skin, whiplash curves, doe eyes, a Splenda-sweet smile on perfectly glossed lips.
āYou must be Olivia,ā you say, hoping your smile doesnāt look as fake as it feels.Ā
āOh, please, call me Liv. Itās so nice to meet you, babe,ā she gushes, wrapping you into a hug that you have no time to refuse. āHonestly, Iām really glad Alex chose you so I got to meet you first. Iāve been absolutely addicted to the series this year ā I watch at the animal shelter I volunteer for on the weekends, and every time I saw you on TV I just thought we would be such good friends.ā
So sheās sunshine in human form. Mother Teresa in a bikini. You hate her immediately.Ā
āSorry to interrupt,ā Alex says, tapping your shoulder and gesturing towards the tables with a crooked smile, ābut should weā¦?ā
āOh, definitely,ā Olivia says, placing a perfectly manicured hand on Landoās arm and pulling him towards her table. He turns for just a second, catching your eye the way he does when he has something he wants to tell you. But then he shakes his head, turning back to Olivia, and you let Alex lead you away.
You try to pay attention as he pours you a cup of orange juice, you really do, letting the get-to-know-you chat filter through the lovesick haze in your mind. Alex is a vet from Suffolk who has about a hundred pets. Alex is the oldest of five siblings, three sisters and one brother. Alex likes Wes Anderson movies and cooks Thai curry on the weekends. Alex laughs at your jokes, even when theyāre not funny.Ā
Alex is not, by any stretch of the imagination, only good enough to be second best in your heart.
But no matter how hard you try, your focus keeps drifting to the table across the lawn. Alex is telling you a story about the time he had to perform an emergency appendectomy on someoneās pet porcupine, and youāre nodding and making the appropriate reaction sounds at the appropriate times, but all you can think about is whether Lando is enjoying the date, whether the split second he looked at you like he had something important to say was real or your mind playing tricks on you again.Ā
You steal a glance over at the other table, where Lando is staring determinedly at Olivia and definitely not at you. Sheās telling some story, probably about how she singlehandedly saved a family of four from a burning building without messing up her eyeliner or something; heās nodding along, but you know him too well not to notice the stiffness in his shoulders, like heās performing what he thinks a good first date should look like.
Still, when she reaches across the table to touch his hand, he doesnāt pull away, and your heart twists helplessly in your chest.
āWhat do you think?ā Alex says, and something in his voice makes you snap back to attention. āGood enough for him?ā
Your cheeks color. āWhat?ā
He refills your glass, and his smile is easy, assured. āCāmon. I can see you looking over there. Itās your best mate, obviously youād be protective. Two new bombshells coming in at the last minute and all.ā
āRight, yeah. Gotta look out for each other,ā you say, because itās easier than explaining that every time Lando smiles at someone else you feel like youāre drowning. āLiv seems really sweet, though.ā
Alex leans forward, and thereās a mischievous kind of glint in his warm brown eyes. āWhat about me?ā he asks lowly. āāCause Iāll have you know, Iām coming here with the worst of intentions.ā
Itās so funny coming from the nicest guy you think youāve ever met that you have to laugh, bright and unguarded; over Alexās shoulder, Landoās head swivels so fast towards your table that he nearly falls off his chair. āYeah, I clocked that from the beginning,ā you say teasingly. āYouāve got a real bad boy vibe to you.ā
Alex grins, clearly pleased that youāve played along. āOkay, yeah, I donāt think I could pull that off if I tried,ā he admits. āBut you do seem really cool. And Iād like to get to know you better, if you donāt already think Iām completely hopeless.ā
Heās so sincere it makes your chest ache. It would probably be sort of appealing, if your heart didnāt have a Lando-shaped hole down to its very center. Still, you could say yes. You should say yes.Ā
You smile, because you donāt know what else to do. āI donāt think youāre hopeless.ā
All you hear is Landoās laugh, too loud and too sharp, from the other side of the garden.
Itās chaos when you finally step back in the villa; it always is, with new blood. The second you walk through the doors, everyone swarms. It turns out George and Alex know each other from uni, and they immediately fall into a long discussion thatās entirely incomprehensible to the other boys while Oscar sizes up Alex quietly from the kitchen. Meanwhile, Olivia gets absorbed into the group of girls with a frightening level of efficiency. Georgiaās holding court, fawning over her bikini, and Camilla peppers her with rapid-fire questions about her PhD research that she answers with a sweet smile and the patience of a saint.Ā
āYouāre back!ā Lily squeals, hugging you.Ā
Gemmaās rushing towards you next. āWe were so worried when we woke up and you werenāt there!ā she cries, throwing her arms around you. āBut Lils figured out you must have been on a date. How was it? How is he?ā
āIāll tell you later, yeah?ā you say, tilting your head subtly towards where Alex stands like youāre trying to imply something. Itās a non-answer, one that you can let them read into while you try to remember anything about the date that doesnāt relate to Lando.
Gemmaās eyes light up. āI knew it. Alex is proper fit, isnāt he? And such a nice boy,ā she grins, and it makes your stomach twist rollercoaster-sickeningly. āIf you end up together, you can double date with me and Georgie!ā
āRelax, Gem, she only met him an hour ago,ā Lily says calmly, eyes flicking between the two of you like sheās trying to solve a puzzle sheās missing a piece for. āHe does seem nice, though.ā
āHe is,ā you agree, and itās the first entirely true thing youāve said all day.Ā
She glances across the lawn to where Lando is introducing Olivia to Oscar. āThey seem like they had a nice time too,ā she says neutrally, but thereās a strange emphasis to her words, like she wants to test your reaction as she says them.Ā
Your chest tightens. āLooked like it.ā
Alex scans the lawn, and you realize too late heās looking for you. When he spots your little trio, he lopes over, introducing himself to Gemma and Lily before his gaze turns to you again. āI want to chat to everyone, get settled in. But come find me later?ā he asks, ducking his head closer to you almost shyly. Across the lawn, your eyes fall on Lando watching the two of you as he sips from his water bottle, gripping it so tightly his knuckles are going white.Ā Ā
Gemma pinches the back of your arm, and you know youāve been quiet for far too long. You straighten up, dragging your eyes away from Lando with what feels like considerable effort and forcing a polite smile. āDefinitely,ā you blurt, even though itās the last thing you want to say, and Alex beams at you like youāve made his week.
In the kitchen, Lando turns away, and you feel even worse than you did before.Ā
Morning stretches into afternoon, everyone scattering across the villa to nap or soak up the summer sun or (in your case) stare at Lando and Olivia and spiral. When Lily asks you if you want to paint your nails while Oscar makes you smoothies, you agree immediately, if only to have something else to do. But she pulls you to one of the couches on the terrace, where you have a perfect view of the two of them chatting on the beanbags while Lily files her nails and waffles between lilac and coral.Ā
āWhat do you think?ā she asks, and youāre only distantly aware of it.
āTheyāll both look pretty on you,ā you say, not looking away. Olivia is laughing at something Landoās said, silvery and musical, sun catching in her hair like sheās starring in a LāOreal commercial or maybe your worst nightmare.
Lily bumps your shoulder, pulling your focus. āI asked if you want me to do yours, too,ā she says dryly.
Heat floods your face, caught out. āIām sorry,ā you say, flopping back against the pillows, staring up at the sky. āJust⦠distracted. Eventful day, I guess.ā
āObviously. I mean, they basically sent in a bombshell just for you. How is Alex?ā she asks, and you bite down hard on your bottom lip, worrying it in between your teeth.Ā
Alex is perfect. Alex is completely wrong. Alex is ā well, Alex isnāt him.Ā
āLils,ā you say softly, āI think I might be in trouble.ā
She caps the nail polish, carefully pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. āWhat kind of trouble?ā
You wince, close your eyes, take a deep breath for the first time youāre going to say the awful truth out loud. āThe Lando kind.ā
āOhmygodohmygodohmygod,ā she blurts at a volume that has you nearly clapping a hand over her mouth and looking frantically over the railing to make sure no one heard. āFirst of all, finally, Iāve been trying to get you two together for ages, but better late than never, I guess.ā She pauses for a deep breath, eyes wide. āSecond of all, since when?ā
You sigh, pressing your palms against your eyes. āI donāt know. The whole time, I think, a little bit? But definitely since the challenge last week.ā
āHideaway?ā she asks eagerly.Ā
You nod miserably in return. āFucking Hideaway.ā
āI knew it. Youāve been different since you got back,ā she squeals. You might be imagining it, but you can swear sheās actually bouncing on the couch. āWhat happened?ā
āNothing,ā you say a little too quickly, and she raises an eyebrow. āWell, not nothing. We just talked, andā¦ā you trail off. āItās stupid. I thought there was, like, a moment, but clearly the champagne went to my head.ā
She grabs your arm. āWhat do you mean, a moment?ā
You close your eyes, cheeks burning. āHe told me I deserved better than Carlos, and then we were so close to each other, Lils, and he was looking at me like I was ā I dunno, like I was the only person in the world or something. And I thought he was going to kiss me, but then he just pulled away like nothing happened.ā
āMaybe he was scared?ā she questions.Ā
āOr maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see.ā
āSo. You donāt see him as a friend?ā she asks, unable to keep the bright, knowing smile off her face.
āāCourse I do. Heās my best friend,ā you reply softly. āI just want the rest of him, too.ā
āHave you thought of telling him that?ā
Itās as if sheās asked you if youāve thought of jumping off the rooftop terrace. āAre you mental?ā
āNo,ā she says carefully. āAnd Iām also not blind.ā
āIt was always going to be temporary, this coupling up thing,ā you sigh. āIāve been lucky to be with him as long as I have. And he clearly doesnāt feel the same way, so⦠having him as a friendās better than not having him at all.āĀ
You wish it sounded more convincing even to your own ears.Ā
Before Lily can say anything back, Oscar pops his head through the door, balancing two smoothies and various crisp bags in his hands like heās auditioning for the next season of The Bear. āSomebody call for snacks?ā
āThank you, baby,ā Lily says, face going completely soft. Ever since heād asked her to officially be his girlfriend a few days before, sheās been reaching heretofore unseen levels of moony-eyed over him.
Serious, logical Oscar giggles ā actually giggles ā as he hands you both the drinks, tossing the crisp bags on the couch between the two of you. āLet me know if you need anything else, Iām just going to be down by the pool with Lando.ā
āNo, wait, stay,ā Lily says urgently, catching his wrist. Oscar pretends to hesitate for all of half a second before sinking into the cushion beside her, tucking his arm around her like itās second nature. When you glance over, sheās giving him a meaningful look, some silent significant-other communication passing between them. As happy as you are for your friends that they found each other, thereās something about it that makes your chest ache, something that hurts to watch when your own love life is so obviously going to shit.
āActually, Osc, you can have my smoothie,ā you say, standing up and handing it back to him. He takes it with a confused look on his face, glancing over at Lily. āThink Iām just gonna go lie down, or something. Iāll see you guys at dinner, yeah?ā
Youāre not even out the door before they start whispering, hushed and conspiratorial, heads tilted close together. Once youāre in the bedroom, you flop down face-first pull a pillow over your head to drown them out until everyone starts filing in to get ready for the evening.
Dinner is, predictably, torture.
Youāre sandwiched in between Alex and Lily, whoās in her own little world with Oscar, whispering and giggling about whatever they started scheming up on the terrace. Oliviaās slotted herself in next to Lando on the other side of the table, and sheās somehow even more radiant in the golden hour light streaming through the outdoor dining area. The conversation breaks up like it always does, into little pockets, and you already know youāll be spending your evening paying attention to the wrong one.
āThe stars are probably incredible here,ā Alex says, cutting into his chicken. āBack home, you can barely see them with all the light pollution, but thereās nothing else for miles here. You might even be able to see the Milky Way.ā
You take a sip of your water, eyes glued to the way Olivia is hanging on to Landoās story about the time he accidentally crashed a sports car in Las Vegas like heās the most interesting person in the entire world. āThat sounds lovely.ā
āMaybe we could go up to the terrace later and I could show you,ā Alex says. Youād call it a cheesy line if you couldnāt see the heartbreaking amount of hope in his eyes.Ā
āSure, yeah, thatād be nice,ā you say, smiling vacantly, and Landoās fork clatters against his plate so loud that for a second you think heās broken the dish.
āAre you okay?ā Olivia asks him, genuine concern in her voice, and when she places a steadying hand on his arm you clench your fists so hard under the table that your nails leave little crescents in your palms.Ā
āMāfine,ā he mumbles back, and you take a sip of water to calm yourself. āJust tired, I think.ā
āMaybe after dinner we could find somewhere quiet to relax,ā Olivia says sweetly. āIād love to hear some more of your travel stories.ā
Your glass hits the table harder than intended, liquid sloshing over the side, and Lily shoots you the worldās most loaded glance. āShit, sorry,ā you mutter, faking a smile as heat starts flooding into your cheeks. āButterfingers.ā
Landoās eyes meet yours across the table, unreadable and dark like a summer storm. He hands you a napkin wordlessly, and when your fingers brush as you take it, everything else fades away.Ā
After dinner, you go up to the terrace with Alex to look at the stars, just like you promised. He wasnāt wrong; the night sky looks incredible, stars like diamonds spilling across plush black velvet. āWow,ā you breathe, staring up into the sky. Itās overwhelming in the best way, and for a minute the drama of the villa feels insignificant in comparison.
āTold you it was worth it,ā Alex says, moving to stand beside you at the railing.Ā
Youāre both quiet for a moment, watching the stars, and itās almost nice until he breaks the silence. āCan I ask you a question?ā
āSure,ā you say, heart hammering against your ribs for all the wrong reasons.Ā
He smiles, soft and knowing. āWhatās going on with you and Lando?ā
āNothing,ā you reply too quickly. āWhy? What makes you say that?ā
Alex turns to face you properly. āIāve been looking at you all day,ā he says, not unkindly, but in a way that makes your heart twist all the same. āAnd youāve been looking at him like thereās nobody else in this villa.ā
You want to deny everything. You want to insist youāre happy as friends. You want to tell Alex heās reading too much into something he doesnāt understand and he should keep his perfect ski-slope nose out of it. But the words keep dying halfway up your throat.Ā
Instead, you stare down at your hands, curled tightly around the railing. āItās complicated.āĀ
āMost good things are,ā he says gently. āLook, I like you. Youāre smart and funny and beautiful, but I donāt want to be who you settle for because you think you canāt have what you want.ā
You sigh, shoulders slumping even as relief and guilt swirl in your stomach. āIām so sorry, Alex. Youāre a really lovely guy, I just āā
āDonāt apologize for how you feel,ā he says, and surprisingly, he sounds like he means it. āJust maybe do something about it? Love Islandās too short to not go after what you want. And if it doesnāt work out, then hopefully Iāll still be here,ā he teases.
You laugh, though the thought sort of makes you want to throw up. āIāll keep that in mind.ā
He places his hand on top of yours, gingerly, like youāre a scared animal heās trying not to spook. āFor what itās worth, I donāt think I have a shot in hell,ā he says, with a smile thatās almost rueful. āHe looks at you, too. All the time. Like you hung the stars up there.āĀ
Itās a kindness you donāt deserve; itās one more half-truth youāll hang your life on. āThanks, Alex,ā you breathe, throat tight, and he squeezes your hand comfortingly.
Then the door slides open, and Lando steps into the scene with all the grace of a live hand grenade.
āSorry to interrupt,ā he says, eyes zeroing in on Alexās hand around yours and not looking particularly sorry at all. āJust, uh, needed a bit of air before bed.ā
āThatās alright,ā Alex says easily, pulling his hand away and stepping aside to let Lando through, and for a moment you despise how nice, how fundamentally good he is. He turns back to you, soft smile on his face. āI should go to bed anyway, itās been a long day. But Iād love to chat to you tomorrow?ā
āThat sounds great,ā you manage, which is harder than you expect when Landoās eyes feel like theyāre burning a hole in the side of your head. āNight, Alex.ā He waves as he disappears into the villa, door sliding shut softly behind him.Ā
Itās just you and Lando, then, and the air simmers. You can feel the tension radiating off him, coiling dark and restless underneath your skin and making a home next to the jealousy youāve sat with all evening.
āHaving fun?ā he says, and his voice is so casual it nearly gives you whiplash.Ā
You glance over at him. You werenāt wrong, after all ā thereās something wild and uncontained in the set of his jaw, the way his hands flex at his sides. āWhat?ā
āWith Alex,ā he says, smile tight. āYou two looked cozy.ā
āWe were just talking,ā you reply. āLike you and Liv have been doing all day.ā
āThatās different.āĀ
āHow is it different?ā you ask.
He rakes a hand through his already-messy curls. āJust is,ā he mumbles, staring past you down to the lawn.Ā
āRight, because sheās gorgeous and perfect and exactly your type,ā you say, and you hate the way it sounds coming out of your mouth, high-pitched and unsteady and blatantly jealous.
Lando blinks. āWhat do you mean?ā
āNothing. Forget it,ā you sigh. You try to push past him, but his fingers catch around your wrist.
āDonāt do that. Donāt just walk away right now,ā he says lowly.Ā
You spin on your heel, and all of a sudden you canāt keep it in anymore. āWhat do you want me to say, Lan? That Iām thrilled you found someone? That I love watching Liv hang all over you while you completely forget I exist?ā
āShe wasnāt hanging all over me,ā he mutters, color rising in his cheeks.
āPlease,ā you laugh, short and derisive. āShe was practically sitting in your lap at dinner.ā
His eyes flash, sharp. āYeah? And Alex wasnāt eating out of your hand the whole night? Didnāt exactly see you telling him to back down.ā
āI was being polite, because theyāre obviously here for us and weāre supposed to get to know them,ā you bristle. āWhat did you want me to do? Act like a total bitch and blow him off?ā
āMaybe, yeah!ā Lando spits, voice raised as he takes a step closer to you. His hand is still curled around your wrist, thumb pressing against your pulse point. āMaybe I wanted you to tell him you werenāt interested so I didnāt have to sit there and watch his pathetic arse light up for you all night every time you gave him a scrap of attention.ā
āWhy do you even care?ā you fire back, and now youāre shouting too. āYou got Liv, sheās perfect for you, youāve got exactly what you wanted āā
āI donāt fucking want her, I want you!ā he snaps, words tearing out of his throat raw and desperate, and the whole villa seems to shake with the sound of it.Ā
The words hang between you, air unnaturally still. The only movement is the rise and fall of Landoās chest, hard and erratic like he canāt get enough oxygen in his lungs. He looks as wrecked as you feel. āWhat?ā you say, voice barely above a whisper.Ā
āShit,ā he breathes, dropping your wrist like itās burned him and tugging at his curls. āI didnāt ā thatās not what I meant to say.ā
Your heart does something complicated in your chest that makes you wonder if you might be having a heart attack. Itās not out of the realm of possibility; you donāt think your organs could handle having him and losing him in thirty seconds. āThen what did you mean?ā
He blinks at you, like your very reasonable question is not one he was expecting to hear. āI donāt know,ā he says helplessly, and then his shoulders sag slightly as he shakes his head, something breaking open in his expression. āFuck. Iām sorry. Thatās a lie. Itās exactly what I meant.ā
Youāre crackling, a live wire, every nerve ending sparking beneath your skin. āLan āā
āI donāt want her,ā he says again, quieter now, like it might cost him everything. āI want you. Iāve wanted you for so long I donāt remember what it feels like not to. And itās driving me mental to pretend I donāt, but Iāve been so fucking scared to risk it and lose you completely when I know you donāt feel the same way and āā
āLando,ā you say, louder this time, and grab his wrist, your fingers looping around his. He looks at you with wild eyes, vulnerable and aching, like you hold his heart in the palm of your hands.Ā
Which, youāre realizing, you just might.
āYeah?ā
āShut up for a second?ā you breathe, pulling him towards you and finally, finally kissing him.
The world does not screech to a halt. No, it blooms, springs to life around you like you werenāt quite alive until your lips touched his. His mouth moves against yours, desperate and hungry, all the pent-up longing poured into one perfect moment. When you part your lips for him, he slots his tongue against yours immediately as he sighs against your mouth, and the sound nearly makes your knees buckle. Youāve been kissed before, you think as he tangles his hands into your hair, but never like this. Well, except ā
āYou,ā you gasp as you break the kiss, staring at Lando.Ā
He stares back, a dazed, radiant sort of smile on his face, like he just won a prize he hadnāt even dared to hope for. āMe?ā
āThe Kiss,ā you say, breathless. āThat stupid challenge, with the blindfolds.ā You press your fingers against your lips, memorizing the feel of it under your skin. āIt was you.ā
He flushes, looking adorably flustered, and doesnāt deny a thing.
āI canāt believe you,ā you say as you pull him closer, marveling at the fact that you get to touch him like this now. āI was losing my mind over that kiss, Lan. Why didnāt you tell me?ā
āWanted to,ā he hums, hands landing on your waist. āDrove me mad that you didnāt know it was me. But it just never felt like the right time. You were with Carlos, and then you were heartbroken over Carlos, and the second you said you were really over it, you were calling us a friendship couple, and then the bombshells came in.ā
āYouāre so annoying, you know that?ā you say, and youāre smiling so hard your cheeks ache. āCould have saved me weeks of pining if you just told me it was you.ā You pause, softer this time. āThe whole time in here, itās been you.ā
āNot the whole time,ā he corrects, and you think Alex might have been right about one thing. He does look at you like youāre all the stars in the sky, awestruck and tender. āThere were a couple days at the beginning where I wasnāt completely gone for you.ā
āCompletely gone, huh?ā you say, raising an eyebrow, giddy.
He blushes again, pink to the tips of his ears. āDonāt get a big head about it.ā
āToo late,ā you say, and when you lean in to kiss him again, slow and soft, you swear you can taste the smile on his lips.
For once, the fluorescent lights donāt wake you up. Itās the weight of his gaze on you, the proximity that still makes your pulse jump even though youāve been sleeping in a bed with him for weeks.Ā
āYouāre staring,ā you mumble without even opening your eyes.Ā
āYouāre beautiful,ā Lando responds immediately, like it still thrills him to get to say it.
You snort, opening your eyes as your heart kicks wildly in your chest. āThatās your line? A week of being coupled up and thatās all youāve got for me?ā
āThought Iād save the big guns for after breakfast,ā he grins, dimples cutting into tan cheeks. āProper sweep you off your feet then.ā
You shove lightly at his shoulder. āDonāt think I donāt know what youāre doing. You just want me to say youāve already done that.āĀ
He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. āObviously.ā
āCan you two stop being disgusting? Iāve barely woken up,ā Gemma says, throwing a pillow at you, as if she didnāt scream so loud when you told her about the terrace kiss that production nearly sent emergency services in for a wellness check.
āNo way. You lot made your beds trying to get us together, now lie in them,ā Lando snarks as he rolls to his back, batting the pillow away with one hand and dragging you closer with the other, warm and lazy against your thigh.
āYeah,ā you yawn, flinging your leg over his waist, half on top of him. āReap what you sow, and all that.ā
Franco groans from across the room. āI miss when you two were just obsessed with each other quietly and not making it everyone elseās problem.ā
āThey were literally never quiet about it,ā Oscar snorts. āAt least, Lando wasnāt. āOsc, sheās so perfect. Osc, when is she going to notice me? Osc, how do I stop smiling like an idiot every time she talks to me?āā
You turn back to Lando, delighted grin on your face. āYou said that? Wow. Embarrassing. I was way cooler about it than that.ā
āYou absolutely were not,ā Lily says fondly, pushing Oscarās hair off his forehead with her fingers as he lets out a contented little sigh. āYou were practically in fits when Liv came in.ā
You laugh, but the mention of the departed bombshells seems to cast a sentimental stillness over the bedroom. It feels quieter and emptier every night you stay, like the walls are slowly closing in. Alex and Olivia had barely warmed their beds before they were gone; really, they never stood a chance after you and Lando stopped being idiots. Charles and Camilla went the same night as them in the public vote, Molly and Yuki a few nights later. You thought itād get easier with less people around, but the silence where their voices used to be rings louder and louder every day, a glaring reminder that your days in the villa are numbered.
āI canāt believe itās nearly over,ā Emma says quietly. āI feel like I just got here.ā
āSpeak for yourself,ā Gemma mutters. āItās been a lifetime. I canāt wait to get a proper iced latte and sleep in a bed that isnāt surrounded by six other people.ā Beside her, George goes noticeably pink at the thought.
āItās going to be weird leaving, though,ā Lily says thoughtfully. āLike, Iāve gotten so used to this. And weāll never really get it back.ā
You toy with the edge of the duvet, trying not to let the fear dancing at the edges of your brain fully creep in. The truth is, the villaās a strange, sun-soaked limbo where you and Lando have had all the time in the world to figure things out. But on the outside, when youāre not in the Love Island bubble anymore, things will be different. On the outside, thereās jobs and friends and lives that canāt revolve around each other twenty-four hours a day.Ā
You donāt know what you and Lando will be when summerās over. What if this perfect, magic thing between the two of you canāt survive?
Before you let yourself spiral, Georgiaās phone dings on her nightstand, and everyone freezes.Ā
She snatches it up, eyes flying across the screen. āOh my god.ā
āWhat?ā Franco says, snaking his arm around her waist and tucking his chin over her shoulder like heās trying to read it before she can. āNew bombshells? What is it?ā
Georgia clears her throat dramatically. āIslanders,ā she reads, an excited smile making its way to her lips, ātoday youāll be receiving some very special visitors. Please get ready to welcome your families to the villa! Hashtag, meet the parents, hashtag family matters.ā
The room erupts. Carlos starts jumping on his bed, Emma squealing with excitement as she tries to avoid his long limbs. George practically cartwheels down the length of the bedroom, knocking over several water bottles in the process and beating at his chest when he gets to the other end. Even Oscarās mouth is hanging open wider than youāve ever seen it, jaw slack with a quieter kind of disbelief.
āOh my god,ā Lando says, voice cracking at the edges. āI get to see my mum and dad?ā
And then heās crying, tears streaming down his cheeks like eight weeks of being completely cut off from the outside world has just hit him all at once.Ā
āBaby,ā you sigh, crawling into his lap and wrapping your arms around him, and he buries his face into your neck.
āMāsorry,ā he mumbles against your skin wetly, breath hitching. āDunno why Iām crying, really. I just ā I miss them so much. Never gone this long without talking to them. Not ever.ā
āDonāt apologize,ā you say, weaving your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and pressing a kiss to his temple. āI get it. Iām going to be a complete mess when my mum and dad come in.ā
Lando pulls back slightly, wiping at his eyes, the lashes gone spiky with tears. āFuck. Forgot Iād get to meet your parents too. Dāyou think theyāll like me?ā
āAre you joking?ā you laugh. āMy mumās probably planning our wedding already. Iām more worried your parents will hate me for taking so long to realize you were right in front of me.ā
āThey wonāt hate you,ā he says with utter certainty. āYouāre the best thing that ever happened to me.ā
It happens just like that: your heart, falling off the edge of a cliff with no parachute and no fear, and you know.Ā
You are wildly, catastrophically in love with him.Ā
āCareful,ā you murmur, voice light, even as your teeth ache with the effort of holding those three little words back. āKeep saying stuff like that and Iāll never let you go.ā
His lips curl upward, and in the catalogue of Lando Norris smiles, this one is unquestionably your favorite. āPromise?ā
Once youāre all ready in parent-appropriate attire, the producers herd you down to the lawn, and the families arrive one by one, a parade of tears and laughter and bone-crushing hugs. Itās Oscarās parents first, his mum effusively treating you all like sheās just adopted nine new children and his dad clapping Lando on the back so hard he jumps. Oscar looks as stoic as usual, but when Lilyās parents come in, as posh and put-together as she is, you can see his hands shaking from halfway across the lawn.
Francoās parents are exactly as dramatic as he is, peppering his face with kisses and fussing over how skinny heās gotten. Then itās Georgiaās mum and her older sister, who immediately tells her she needs to get out of the sun because her forehead looks āabsolutely criminal.ā
āOh my god,ā Lando giggles as you watch Georgia scowl like a teenager. āGās got her own G.ā
George maintains his laddish composure for all of thirty seconds before he starts crying when his dad pulls him into a bear hug that lifts him clean off the ground. Gemma teases him at first, but when her dad and best friend walk in she sobs all the way across the lawn, clinging to them tightly. Each little reunion makes your chest tighter and tighter with anticipation.
āDāyou think itāll be us or Carlos and Emma, then?ā you ask Lando absently, fiddling with the hem of your dress as you watch George and Gemma bicker about whose parents liked who more. But heās already sitting up, gripping your hand tightly as the doors open again.Ā
You donāt recognize the couple, but Lando does. āItās them,ā he blurts, practically tripping over his feet to get up and sprint across the lawn, throwing himself into their arms in a crashing collision.Ā
You hang back just slightly, letting them have their moment as you take in the scene. His dad is tall, rail-thin, with the same bright smile; his mum petite and elegant, glasses accentuating kind eyes that crinkle at the corners the same way her sonās do.Ā
āThereās our boy,ā his dad says, tears in his eyes and voice warm with pride as he wraps his arms around his son.Ā
His mum looks over Landoās shoulder, and her face brightens even more. āAnd you must be our girl,ā she says, waving you over without hesitation.Ā
Our girl. Your heart does something very complicated in your chest at the thought.
āHi, Mr. and Mrs. Norris,ā you start politely, but his mumās already waving the formality away.
āPlease,ā she says, and thereās a hint of an accent you canāt quite place as she pulls you in for a hug of your own. She smells like vanilla, warm and motherly and safe. āAdam and Cisca. Weāve been dying to meet you properly.ā
āHonestly, though, we feel like we know you already,ā his dad ā Adam ā says. āWeāve been watching every single night.ā
āOh god,ā you groan, covering your face with your hands. āPlease tell me you fast-forwarded through all the embarrassing bits.ā
He laughs, and itās so familiar, so like Landoās, that you feel instantly at ease. āThose were the best parts. Though I did want to reach through the screen and shake you both a few times.ā He turns to Lando, grinning. āShouldāve kissed her in the Hideaway, darling.ā
Lando goes scarlet as you burst into giggles. āThanks, Dad. Proper roasting me on national television.ā
Before you can tease him any further, the doors creak open again, and when you glance up you catch the familiar floral print of the dress your mum always wears for special occasions.Ā
āMum,ā you shriek, bolting for the door before youāre even sure if your legs will carry you that far.
She catches you, arms wrapping around you in the same fierce hug thatās fixed every scraped knee and broken heart since you were five years old, and youāre crying into her shoulder almost immediately.
āI know, sweetheart, I know,ā she soothes, and you can hear the emotion in her voice, too. āWeāre so proud of you.ā
When you pull back, your dadās choked up, too. āHay fever,ā he manages, pulling you into a hug of his own, tight enough to crack your ribs.Ā
āLook at you. Youāre glowing,ā your mum says when he finally lets you go, holding your face in her hands gently. āYou look so happy. And so tan!ā
āI am happy,ā you grin, wiping away the last of the tears. āReally, really happy.ā
Your mum beams ā not at you, sort of over your shoulder. āI can see why.āĀ
When you turn, Landoās hovering a few steps away with his family, tugging at the hem of his shirt like he doesnāt quite know what to do with his hands. He looks more nervous than he did to see his own family. The thought makes your heart swell with affection.Ā
āCome here, you,ā you grin, tugging him forward by the wrist, and the second you intertwine your fingers with his, the tension in his shoulders relaxes. āMum, dad, this is Lando.ā
āWe know,ā your mum says, wrapping him into a hug before he can get a word in edgewise. āItās so lovely to finally meet the boy sheās been smitten over all summer.ā
āIt wasnāt all summer,ā you hiss, cheeks pink.
āYou didnāt see yourself on the telly, sweetheart,ā she replies primly. āI knew you fancied him from day dot.ā
Landoās already melting under her maternal approval, eyes wide when he looks back at you like he wasnāt expecting to be accepted so fast. āItās so lovely to meet you,ā he says warmly. āThank you for raising such an incredible girl.ā
Your dad appraises him gruffly. āSmooth talker,ā he says flatly, like heās passed judgment on his worthiness in five seconds. Lando goes completely pale before your dad breaks into the smile thatās been making you feel safe since you were small and claps him on the back. āOnly joking. Took you long enough to make a move, kid.ā
āEveryone keeps saying that,ā he laughs, shaking your dadās hand with a firm grip and slinging his other arm around your waist.
āBecause itās true,ā your mum says, squeezing his arm gently as she takes it in ā the way he wonāt let go of you even for a minute, how he keeps glancing at you like he canāt help himself but to look. āBut sometimes the best things are worth waiting for.ā
āWhy donāt we all sit together?ā you suggest. āI want you to meet Landoās parents, too.ā
āThat would be lovely,ā Cisca says, stepping up behind you. āWeāve been so excited to meet you all.ā
The next twenty minutes pass in a blur, the six of you falling into easy conversation about your journey in the villa, your parents swapping embarrassing childhood stories that make you and Lando groan in mortification.Ā
āShe was such a determined little thing,ā your mum tells Adam at the end of a particularly gruesome story about the time you were seven and thought you could cut your own fringe. āAlways knew exactly what she wanted.ā
āSounds familiar,ā Adam chuckles, glancing at his son. āOnce Lando set his mind on something, that was it. No stopping him.ā
āStill like that,ā you grin, bumping your shoulder against his. āPersistent.ā
He wraps his arm around you, tugging you into his side with a smile that makes your heart swoop in your chest. āGot me you, didnāt it?ā
Your families slot together so easily, your mum offering Cisca her famous lemon cake recipe immediately just in case you go to theirs for a holiday, your dad and Adam bonding over football and planning to meet up for a match when youāre all back home. Something warm and entirely overwhelming settles in your chest; this is what itās supposed to feel like when someone fits into your life completely, not just with you, but with everyone that matters to you.
āThey love you,ā you say into Landoās ear, low enough so that only he can hear.Ā
He turns to you, something pleased in his expression. āReally?ā
āYeah,ā you giggle, pressing yourself against his side. āLook at them. My mumās, like, seconds away from breaking out the baby photos and my dad keeps looking over here like heās thrilled heāll finally have someone to talk about Man U with.ā
He doesnāt laugh. Just looks at you with those eyes that feel like they cut to the very core of you, thumb tracing across your knuckles. āYour familyās amazing,ā he mumbles, almost shy. āThey make me feel like⦠I dunno, like I already belong.ā
āYou do belong,ā you tell him without hesitation. The words come out with more weight than you were expecting, and thereās that feeling again, those three little words heavy and inevitable on your tongue.Ā
Youāre so close to just saying it, to telling him exactly how much he belongs in every corner of your life, when the producers give you the two-minute warning, telling you to wrap things up so that Carlos and Emmaās families can come in.
āSo soon?ā your mum protests. āI had baby pictures to show Cisca!ā
The goodbyes are rushed, tearful, overlapping; you promise your dad youāll call as soon as youāre out, and your mom refuses to leave without another hug.
āI love you, sweetheart. And I love him for you,ā she murmurs against your hair. āDonāt let him go.ā
āLove you too, mum,ā you whisper back. āDonāt worry, Iām not planning on it.ā
āTake care of our girl,ā your dad is saying to Lando as you break from your mumās embrace. āSheās our whole world, that one.ā
āMine too,ā Lando replies without even blinking, and your dad beams.Ā
Cisca pulls you into a hug next, cupping your face in her hands the way your own mother would. āYouāll come visit us when youāre both home, yes? Sunday dinner?ā
āIād love that,ā you manage, chest tight at how easily theyāve welcomed you in.
She nods resolutely. āGood. Because youāre family now. Youāre always welcome, okay?ā
The words hit you square in the chest, and you find yourself nodding through tears as they all start moving toward the villa doors. Landoās hand finds yours again, squeezing tight as you watch your parents and his walking out together, already deep in conversation about flights home and phone numbers.
āFamily,ā you whisper to yourself, smiling.Ā
āYeah,ā Lando grins softly, bringing your joined hands up to press a kiss to your knuckles. āFamily.ā
The high carries you through the rest of the afternoon. Youāre absolutely buzzing, but everyoneās floating around the villa with matching massive grins, comparing notes on what their families thought of everyone else. Itās only when youāre all gathered around for dinner and they seat you in couples, one across from each other, that you realize somethingās different ā the throng of producers still hanging around in the kitchen even after you start eating, the pretty silver cloches sitting ominously between each couple.Ā
āThis is weird, right?ā you whisper, tapping your nails against the cloche between you and Lando.Ā
āYeah. Whenās the last time they filmed dinner?ā Oscar mutters, next to Lando, who is shoving the seafood paella around his plate with a disgusted look on his face. āNormally they turn the cameras off and leave us alone for the hour.ā
āSomethingās not right,ā Emma says softly on the other side of you, just as Carlosā phone buzzes.
Nine sets of eyes turn towards him, and his face blanches as he reads. āIslanders, one more couple must be dumped before the finale, but the choice is not up to you. The public have been voting, and they have special surprises for you. If you receive a rose, youāre through to the finale. If your plate is empty, youāll be leaving the villa tonight. Hashtag, final countdown. Hashtag, time to say goodbye.ā
The silence that follows is deafening, everyone staring at their dishes like they hide a ticking time bomb beneath. You look around the table, at the people who have become your surrogate family over the past eight weeks, and the thought of losing any of them makes your heart ache.
āIām not doing it,ā Gemma declares theatrically. āItās not fair. Weāve come so far together. I donāt want anyone to go.ā
āWeāve got to open them,ā Georgia counters, running a hand through her hair. āTheyāll just make whoever came in last in the vote leave. Weāre just delaying the inevitable.ā
āOne by one, then?ā Lily says. āMake it a little less scary?ā
George nods resolutely. āWe can go first.ā He and Gemma reach to the center of the table with trembling hands, lifting the cloche together. Thereās a rose sitting beneath, and Gemma lets out a sob of relief before intertwining her hand with Georgeās.Ā
Franco and Georgia go next, and her sharp intake of breath tells you everything before the dish is even out of the way. She picks up the red rose, showing it to the table with a bright smile on her face.
Oscarās jaw is clenched tight as he and Lily lift theirs together, but you know in the deepest part of your heart that thereāll be a rose underneath before they even touch the cloche. Sure enough, the flower practically glows crimson against the white porcelain.
Which leaves you and Lando, and Carlos and Emma.Ā
You risk a glance next to you; Emma is so pale she looks like she might pass out, and Carlos is staring fixedly at the cloche like he can will it to have the rose underneath. Your heart is pounding so hard you wonder if the mic pack is picking it up.
āTogether?ā Lando asks quietly, and you nod without thinking about it. The four of you count down ā three, two, one, and lift the cloches at the same time.
Underneath yours, unmistakably, is one red rose.
The silence is instant and sharp, like the breathās been taken out of all of you. Emmaās face falls immediately, tears welling in her big blue eyes when she looks down at nothing but a plate of blank white porcelain. Carlos swears under his breath in Spanish, pushing his chair back with a piercing scrape.Ā
āIām sorry,ā Emma whispers, voice breaking as she reaches for his hand, but heās already standing, muttering something about packing. The producers step in then, ushering them unceremoniously inside. No one says a word, but the lawn already feels emptier.
āFuck. Thatās brutal,ā George whistles lowly, shaking his head. Landoās hand finds yours under the table and doesnāt let go.Ā
āRight,ā one of the producers says, artificially cheery in a way thatās designed to smooth things over and does anything but. āGuess thatās dinner, then. You all can go, if youād like. Canāt really get footage without them.ā
Franco frowns down at his plate as you all start getting up, slowly but surely. āNo dessert?ā
You wander to the swing in the corner of the garden with Lando, string lights crisscrossing in the air above you as he tugs you down beside him. The chains creak as you settle in, tucking yourself into his side. His fingers trace up and down your arm gently, instinctively, like someone is going to ask him to draw the curve of your elbow from memory and he wants to make sure he passes.Ā
When he finally speaks, his voice is low, careful. āYou alright?ā
You nod, turning to him. āWhy?ā
āDunno,ā he mumbles, and thereās something fragile in his expression, achingly vulnerable. āThought you might be upset about Carlos.ā
āThink he was upset enough for the both of us,ā you say, tilting your head up and pressing the tiniest kiss to his jaw.
Lando watches you, lips quirking like he wants to smile but heās not quite sure itās allowed. āStill. You two had history.ā
āWe did,ā you agree. āBut the great thing about history is it stays in the past.ā
Heās quiet for a moment, thumb brushing down your arm to your wrist where your pulse speeds under his touch. āI just donāt want you to have any regrets, you know? About how things ended, or āā he stops himself, jaw working like heās trying to swallow the words down.
āOr what?ā
āOr about us,ā he says, so softly you almost canāt hear it. āI donāt want you looking back and thinking I pushed you into something before you were ready.ā
The swing sways gently in the evening air, and you can hear Georgia laughing from across the lawn, distant and warm. You turn to face Lando properly, one leg tucking beneath you.
āLando,ā you say, and it feels different in your mouth now, weighted with everything youāve learned in eight weeks about yourself, about him, about the difference between being wanted and being chosen. āIf thereās one thing I know, itās that nothing about this has ever felt pushed. You give me space until I trip over my feet trying to catch up to you.ā
He huffs out a laugh. āI try.ā
āHeās the past, but youāre my future,ā you say, slipping your hand into his, and he smiles shakily. āIām with you because I want to be. No regrets.āĀ
When he leans in to kiss you, itās slow, unhurried, a promise. Youāre just starting to relax into it when someone clears their throat.Ā
You break away, and Carlos is standing in front of you, toe dragging on the lawn like he canāt quite decide if heās actually going to go through with it. You still havenāt really spoken to him, not since Casa. You thought maybe, just maybe, youād be lucky enough to never have to, that heād fade into the background like all of your past mistakes.
āDo you think we could talk?ā he says softly. Landoās arm tightens around you on instinct, and he stiffens like heās bracing for impact. But when you glance towards him, searching his face, you can read it like a book: he hates this. But he trusts you.
āYeah, okay,ā you say, squeezing Landoās hand reassuringly as you get up from the swing.Ā
You and Carlos walk slow and ambling like parallel lines, never touching, all the way to the daybeds. When you sit, he hovers awkwardly until you pat the mattress next to you. Even then, itās stiff, wooden, silent.Ā
āI am sorry,ā he says finally. āFor the way I treated you.ā
You sigh, looking out towards the water. āYeah, it was pretty shit, mate.ā
āI know,ā he says, chewing on the inside of his cheek. āI just ā I had to say it, before I go. I have been thinking about it, watching you and Lando this week.ā
āWhat do you mean?ā
He runs a hand through his hair, and it flops into his eyes gently. āI knew it was not right between us from the start. I think I did not want to believe it, because on paper we made sense together. But I was working so hard, and it still was not there.ā He laughs, humorless. āAnd then I would see you with Lando, talking about nonsense, and it was so easy, so natural, that it killed me. I felt like I was losing you to someone who was not even trying to take you away from me.ā
āI was trying really hard with you,ā you say, defensive. āI wanted us to work, too. Youāre the one who switched at Casa.ā
He winces. āI know. That made everything worse. When you two coupled up and stayed friends, I was so angry. Not at you, at myself, because I lost you over something that was all in my head.ā
You swallow, throat tight. It wasnāt, and it was.
āBut I see you two together now, and I think maybe I was not wrong. Always, there was a part of your heart that was just for him,ā he says, so simple that it knocks the breath out of you.
Youāre silent for a moment. āI really didnāt know, then, Carlos,ā you whisper. āNot until after Casa.ā
Carlos smiles, and thereās no bitterness to it. āI know. Thatās how I know he is your person. He never stopped believing you would figure it out eventually.ā He pauses, like heās searching for the right words. āI never had that kind of faith.ā
You both look over at the swing, where Lando is doing a spectacularly miserable job of pretending heās not watching the entire conversation. You wave, teasing grin on your face, and he goes scarlet, fumbling for his phone like you didnāt just catch him in 4K.
You shake your head fondly, turning back to Carlos. āHe really never gives up on me, does he?ā
āThatās the difference,ā he answers, soft and sure. āI wanted what I thought we should be. He wants you exactly the way you are.ā
āI hope you and Emma are that for each other,ā you say, and despite everything, youāre surprised to find you really do mean it.Ā
He nods. āI think we will be. Outside maybe we can figure out what we are supposed to be, without all this hanging around us.ā
When you hug him goodbye, it feels like closing a chapter.Ā
The next morning, light spills into the villa softer than usual, as if even the sun knows youāre all living on borrowed time. Itās final dates day, and once you get the text from the producers in the morning, the conversation lingers over breakfast, all wild speculation about what youāll be doing for the afternoon ā jet skis, candlelit dinners, hot air balloons. Everyoneās pretending not to be desperate for something over-the-top romantic, and clearly secretly hoping for it anyway.Ā
Gemma and George are first, whisked away for what turns out to be a private sailboat ride around the island. They come back with sea-slick hair and windbitten cheeks raving about the scenery, George insisting to everyone that he was ābasically the captainā while Gemma mutters that the crew did all the work. Theyāre arguing so much about it that itās nearly time for the next date before they remember to mention that theyāre now officially boyfriend and girlfriend.Ā
Franco and Georgia go next. When they come back, Georgiaās hair, usually perfectly styled, is completely soaked; it takes at least five minutes for Franco to stop laughing long enough to explain she fell off her paddleboard on the way to the beach. Still, they seem happy, and their seaside picnic was pretty enough that Georgia doesnāt even seem to mind her wet hair.
You and Lando are next, and the text from the producers sends you into a frenzy. Luckily, you have the girls to help you get ready, otherwise youāre sure youād be overcome with choice paralysis and never make it to the final date at all.
āDo you think red or pink?ā Gemma says, dragging lipsticks across your wrist and holding the swatches up to Lily.Ā
āPink,ā Lily says decidedly, getting ready for her own date, and Georgia frowns from across the room. āItās more her.ā
āGem, be careful, please,ā you mutter, eyeliner going haywire. You sigh, grabbing a Q-Tip and carefully wiping it off for the third time. When you go again, your hands shake around the pencil so badly that you nearly poke your own eye out.
āGod, I canāt watch this,ā Georgia rolls her eyes, strutting over to you and hip-checking Gemma out of the way, swiveling your chair so youāre facing her. āClose your eyes.ā
You do as she says, and she starts to apply the eyeliner across your lids with a steady hand. āThanks, G,ā you say in a small voice.
Your thanks go ignored. āStop twitching,ā she snaps, tilting your head. āWhy are you so nervous?ā
āItās the final date,ā you say, trying to shrug your shoulders without moving your face at all. āYou and Gem both had these big epic things. What if they just give us, like, a Tesco meal deal in the garden? Like, congrats on being together a week, idiots, hereās a ham sandwich.ā
āJesus,ā she sniffs, dusting a blush brush over your cheeks. āOne, I know you donāt watch the show or whatever, but the producers are good at their jobs, so thatās not happening. And two, who cares? They could sit you two in a cardboard box on the side of the highway and youād still find a way to make it nauseatingly romantic.ā
You open your eyes as she dabs highlighter on your cheekbones, expertly blending it out. āYou really think so?ā
āHave I ever lied to any of you?ā she asks, cocking an eyebrow as she paints the red lipstick onto the contours of your mouth.Ā
āNo,ā you admit, lips still puckered. āYou always kept it real. Even if we didnāt want to hear it.ā
āExactly,ā she says breezily, turning you back toward the mirror, and her handiwork is better than anything you could have ever hoped to produce yourself. āBesides, you wouldnāt even be on this date without me.ā
āWhat do you mean?ā you say, wrinkling your nose as you glance at her through the mirror.
Her lips twitch into a smirk. āWhat do you think I was talking about honesty in Casa for? Babe, he was always yours. And you were clearly his, you just didnāt know it yet. I just had to step out of the way and give you a little push.ā
Your heart swells with affection for her and all her sharp edges, and youāre hugging her before you can stop yourself. She stiffens in surprise, then relaxes in your arms. āDo not get weepy on me now,ā she warns. āYouāll ruin my masterpiece, and itās very unchic.ā
You squeeze her tighter for just a second before you let go. āLove you, G.ā
āYeah, yeah, you too,ā she grumbles, but sheās got a soft smile on her face. āNow go get your man.ā
Landoās already waiting for you outside the villa, hands shoved in his pockets, but the second you open the door and his eyes land on you, his jaw drops. Literally ā youāre pretty sure you can see all his teeth.Ā
āWhat the fuck,ā he beams, dimples cutting deep into his cheeks as he holds out his hand for you. When you take it, he spins you, the skirt of your dress flaring as you turn. āYou are so fit. Donāt know what mistake the universe made to give me this, but I am not complaining.ā
āStop it. Havenāt even left yet and youāre already laying it on thick,ā you snort, cheeks hot as he walks you to the car idling in the driveway.Ā
āNot laying it on thick if itās true,ā he says easily, opening the door for you and sliding in behind you. āAnd objectively, you are the most stunning girl in the entire world, so Iām not shutting up about it."
Your nerves buzz in your stomach the entire drive, Landoās knee bouncing so hard it shakes the seats. He keeps fiddling with your hand, twisting your fingers together and sweeping his thumb over your knuckles like he canāt decide whether or not to be nervous or excited.
āReckon itās a vineyard,ā he whispers to you so the producers donāt hear as the car winds down a narrow dirt road in the midst of a forest. āOr a picnic? But thatās probably too close to Franco and Gās date. Horseback riding, maybe?ā
You hum noncommittally, even though your heartās racing. āAs long as itās not a helicopter ride,ā you whisper back. āThose ones they rent always look a bit dodgy.ā
He laughs and squeezes your hand tightly as the car slows to a stop, headlights cutting through the trees as you reach a small clearing. When you get out of the car, you gasp.
Thereās string lights draping from tree to tree above you at every angle, lighting the entire clearing a soft, glowing gold. A vintage pickup truck is parked dead center, bed piled high with pillows and blankets, and across the grass a massive projector screen stands ready and waiting.Ā
āWhoa,ā Lando breathes, awestruck look on his face. āThis is mint.ā
You grin, pulling him into the clearing. āOur first movie night?ā
He helps you up into the truck bed, and you settle against the pillows as he hops in, pressing himself beside you from your shoulders to the tips of your toes like itās second nature. Thereās popcorn and candy next to you; you toss him the Kinder without thinking, and he rips it open with an appalling level of gusto.
āWhat movie do you think they picked for us?ā you say, tossing a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it in your mouth.
āDunno,ā he responds, digging into your popcorn as the projector flickers to life, and you smack his hand away as he giggles. Those old-fashioned countdown numbers flash before it goes dark again, and your names get written across the screen in flowing silvery script.
āWhat is this?ā Lando whispers, and when it cuts again, itās him, wearing those same ridiculous fluro swim trunks heād worn on the very first day, talking to George.Ā
āDunno, mate, Iām just looking for something serious. Something real,ā past-Lando says on screen.Ā
And then, like clockwork, or maybe something more like fate, you and Lily walk through the doors.Ā
You squeeze his hand tight, smile already wobbly. āItās us.ā
The producers clearly scrounged up every second of footage they had of the two of you interacting, because itās your first conversation next, before the coupling ceremony even began. You can see the spark in your eyes, can hear the way the conversation flows effortlessly from the first word.Ā
āLook at us,ā you snort as the clip switches to another moment of you and Lando, on the terrace this time. āWe were so obvious.ā
āDunno what youāre talking about,ā he grins, tucking you closer under his arm. āI was the picture of restraint.ā
On screen, past-Lando is practically staring at your lips as you talk, hanging on to your every word with the softest smile on his face.Ā
āVery restrained,ā you say dryly. āYouāre, like, radiating heart eyes at me.ā
He pokes you in the side. āOi. You didnāt notice, did you? Subtlety is my middle name.ā
The film continues chronologically through your journey in the villa, moments you remember and moments youāve already forgotten. Thereās you and Lando bantering on the daybeds. You and Lando kissing, the awestruck look on your face clear even under the eye mask. You and Lando tossing fruits in each otherās mouth in an elaborate game youād made up to keep yourselves from getting too bored one day.
āOh god,ā you mumble, burying your face in his neck when the heart rate challenge footage comes on. āDonāt need to relive this one.ā
āFuck, you looked unreal,ā Lando breathes, and you donāt even need to look up to know he has a delighted smile on his face. āI literally thought my heart was going to explode.ā
Your cheeks go crimson. āLando Norris.ā
āIām serious,ā he continues blithely, shrugging his shoulders. āDāyou think the producers will let me have a copy?ā
The footage cuts again to something you havenāt seen, a house that looks just the slightest bit different than the villa ā Casa Amor. Past-Lando and past-Carlos are arguing, Carlos red in the face as Oscar holds Lando back from lunging at him. A second later, it cuts to your conversation with Georgia, looking worried sick as you defend him the same way. The Casa recoupling is next; it still makes your chest ache to watch, but not in the same way it did to live through. Now, you see Landoās knee brushing against yours, his eyes on you when Carlos walks back in with Emma, half agony seeing you upset and half hope at the thought he might still have a chance.Ā
Your challenge win comes next: Lando, picking you up and twirling you effortlessly through the air; you, looking like youāve been hit with a lightning bolt.Ā
You point at the screen fondly. āThat was the moment I knew I was fucked.ā
He raises an eyebrow. āIt took you that long?ā
The footage jumps again to the Hideaway and the almost-kiss you thought you imagined, but is immortalized forever on film and in the warm blush of Landoās embarrassment next to you at not making a move; the date with Alex and Olivia, where the two of you both look murderously jealous of each other; your fight on the terrace and the confession.Ā
The last clip is recent, from after you two officially got together. Youāre cutting fruit barefoot in the kitchen, Lando with his hip pressed to yours as he hums under his breath, off-key but earnest. Onscreen, he holds out his palm. āDance with me?ā
You giggle, take his hand anyway. āIn the kitchen?ā
āWhere else?ā he grins, pulling you close, and the two of you sway slowly between the counters as he keeps humming his song against your hair. The camera lingers on your faces as you turn: both of you look lit from within, incandescent with happiness. With something that you could build forever on.Ā
As the screen fades to black, you curl tightly into Landoās side, heart full to bursting. Youāve never really been a fan of reality TV, never thought much of the misleading editing and dramatic pauses. But this ā your story ā youād watch over and over again.Ā Ā
āWe really went through it,ā you say, laughing shakily as the fairy lights glow back to life above you. āThat was, like, ten summers worth of drama shoved into one.ā
āWorth it, though,ā Lando replies.Ā
āYou think?ā you say, raising an eyebrow.
His expression is almost achingly tender. āLike I said earlier. Got you out of it, didnāt I?ā
Youāre quiet for a moment, watching the stars start to peek through the canopy of lights above you. āWhat do you think itās going to be like?ā you ask suddenly. āOutside, I mean. When this is all over.ā
He shifts, facing you. āWhat do you mean?ā
āI dunno,ā you say, voice smaller than you intended. āItās been so easy in here, but itās not real life. I know weāre both going back to London and we donāt have to do long distance, but weāre both busy people, and itās just going to be harder and messier and more complicated. What if you āā you cut yourself off, staring down at your hands. āIām scared youāre going to wake up and realize Iām not worth the effort.ā
He bumps your shoulder. āLook at me, yeah?ā
When you turn your head, his expression is so certain that it takes your breath away.
āYou want to know what I think?ā he says softly. āI think youāre scared because this matters. Because this is the first time youāve found something worth being terrified of losing.ā
Your eyes sting, and you blink hard to clear them of the tears threatening to spill over. āAre you scared?ā
āBricking it, obviously, ā he admits, grinning. āI know itās going to be different out there. Weāve got lives weāve got to figure out how to intertwine and weāre not going to spend every second together like we do in here. But that doesnāt scare me. What scares me is the thought of not having you in my life at all. I donāt care if weāre in Mallorca or Manchester or ā or frickinā Mars, as long as Iām with you Iām going to be happy. Youāre it for me, okay?ā
You manage a weak laugh. āYou make it sound so simple, but what if āā
āNo what-ifs,ā he says firmly. āWhatever happens, weāll figure it out together. Thatās what people do when theyā¦ā he trails off, hand shaking just slightly in yours, and takes a deep breath like heās steeling himself for something. āWhen they love each other.ā
Your heart stops completely.Ā
āI love you,ā he says, softer this time, like heās testing how the words feel on his tongue. āAnd Iām not going anywhere.ā
āYou love me?ā you say, throat tight, and his lips twitch into the smallest, most anxious grin youāve ever seen on him.
āWell, yeah,ā he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. āItās you, so. Kind of hard not to.ā
His nervousness knocks a laugh out of you, shaky and incredulous, because of course heās managed to make something that might be the most pivotal moment of your entire life into the most adorable thing in the world. āYouāre ridiculous.ā
Thereās a tremor in his voice when he talks next. āBut you love me anyway, right?ā
You shake your head, but youāre smiling. āYeah. I really, really do.ā
The relief on his face is instant, the first sip of water on the hottest day of the year. āKnew it,ā he grins smugly, and it should be a public health hazard with how uncontainable and completely contagious it is. āYouāre stuck with me now, mate.ā
āGod help me,ā you deadpan, cheeks hurting from how hard youāre smiling.
When he pulls you in and laughs, loud and riotously joyful, the sound makes you think maybe the outside world wonāt be so scary after all.Ā Ā
The villa feels different on the last day. Maybe itās the swirl of activity, the sounds of construction of a full-sized stage outside in the garden as you get ready for what feels like hours. Theyāve brought in an actual glam team for the eight of you, racks full of designer dresses and suits. Maybe itās the way everyoneās dressed to the nines, girls in full-length gowns and boys in proper suits like youāve all just stepped off a red carpet. Mostly, though, you think itās the cameras. After weeks of being hidden, youād nearly forgotten they were there, but suddenly theyāre all out in the open, camera guys crawling all over the lawn, big black eyes trained directly on you.
You can tell everyone is feeling it. Thereās a lot more fidgeting than usual as you stand on the heart-shaped platforms, one for each couple, waiting for the host to come in for the very last time. George canāt stop adjusting his bowtie, and Lily keeps wiping her hands on her dress like her palms are clamming up. Lando, looking unfairly good in a simple navy blue suit, is bouncing on his toes next to you; you take a deep breath before you slip your hand into his.Ā
Whatever happens next, you know youāve got him.
The host slinks onto the lawn, radiant smile on her face as she begins. āIslanders, what a summer itās been. But it all ends tonight.ā
Every word she speaks feels like a countdown. It has your heart lodged somewhere in your throat.Ā
āI can now reveal,ā she continues, dragging the words out like sheās savoring the taste of them, āthat the couple in fourth place is⦠Franco and Georgia.ā
The six of you clap politely. Georgiaās face crumples for exactly half a second before she pastes on a smile that could win beauty pageants and throws her arms around Franco. āWe did it, babe,ā she proclaims, loud enough for the cameras to hear, and you can hear the strain of disappointment in her voice. Franco looks more relieved than anything as he offers his arm to her, escorting her off the platform.Ā
āIn third place⦠George and Gemma!ā she says.Ā
George dips Gemma into a kiss before the host is even done saying their names, and when they break apart theyāre both beaming at each other. They seem thrilled with their placement, joining Georgia and Franco by the table and immediately breaking into heated whispers, probably bickering about who they think will win.Ā
āThe country has chosen you as the final two couples,ā the host says, looking between you and Lando and Oscar and Lily; you fidget just slightly under her unyielding gaze. āWeāve followed every step of your journeys to find love this summer. The ups, the downs, the slowest of slow burns.āĀ
Lily catches your eye from her platform, grinning and pointing at you like sheās calling it. You shake your head and point right back at her, heart swelling with affection for the girl whoās practically become your sister in here. Oscar shoots you a lopsided grin, and you can see the hope sparking in his eyes.Ā
āAnd now the waiting is finally over.ā
Landoās thumb traces steady, grounding circles on the back of your hand, squeezing it tightly. When you look up at him, heās not nervous at all. Heās got that smile that mesmerized you on the first day on his face again ā dazzlingly, blindingly happy, and entirely yours.Ā
āThe winners of Love Island 2025 areā¦ā she says, and the butterflies kick in your stomach like theyāre trying to start a hurricane halfway around the world. The silence stretches, and you really wish sheād just get on with it, because you canāt hold your breath for much longer and you might pass out if she keeps dragging this on.Ā
āOscar and Lily!ā
As the confetti cannons go off and fireworks paint the sky silver and gold, the words hit you like a physical thing. Before you know it, youāre crying; not sad tears, but something bigger, more complex. Relief, pride, love, everything youāve been carrying in your heart all summer rising at once until it spills noisily over your cheeks.
āYou upset?ā Lando asks, concern creeping into his voice as he wraps his arms around you, shielding you from the cameras.
āNot even a little,ā you say, sniffling, and you mean it completely. Watching Oscar and Lily together, how could you feel anything but pure joy? āYou?ā
He shrugs, grin tugging at the corner of that heart-shaped mouth as he looks at you. āI already won.ā
You laugh wetly, heart skipping a beat in your chest. āCornball.ā
āYou love it,ā he retorts.Ā
āI love you,ā you correct, and his eyes sparkle. āCould take or leave the terrible jokes.ā
He grins all too angelically, gaze flicking towards the pool behind you, then back to your face. āSee, this is awkward, because my love for you is unconditional and my jokes are fantastic. So youāre going to have to pay for that.ā
āLando, donāt you dare,ā you start to warn, but heās already scooping you into his arms and running full speed towards the pool, launching you both into the air until you land with a spectacular splash.
The water is all-encompassing, dress billowing around you and dragging you down before you burst back to the surface, gasping through your giggles. Franco cannonballs in next, and Georgia follows, sliding in carefully from the shallow side ā you know sheād die before getting her hair wet, but sheād never miss this moment. Gemma goes in on Georgeās back, arms wrapped around his neck as he paddles towards the rest of you. Lily and Oscar are last, whooping as they jump into the deep end, hands intertwined. Itās messy and ridiculous and absolutely perfect.Ā
Lando hoists you up easily, your legs locking around his waist as he tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear. His hands are steady, curls dripping into his eyes, and you think he must be the most beautiful boy youāve ever seen. āThanks,ā you say suddenly, chest tight.Ā
He tilts his head, confused. āFor the hair?ā
āNo, I just ā I didnāt know it was possible to be this happy,ā you say, voice breaking around the simple truth of it.
His expression softens. āGet used to it,ā he says, thumb tracing along your thigh, and your skin erupts in goosebumps that have nothing to do with the cool water. āI plan on making you this happy for a pretty long time.ā
You raise an eyebrow, aiming for teasing despite your heart hammering against your ribs. āHow long are we talking?āĀ
āDunno,ā he hums happily, pretending to think about it, but the way his eyes crinkle at the corners gives him away. āHow does forever sound?ā
You kiss him then, with the fireworks still going off above your heads like the entire universe is celebrating along with you, and his hands tighten around your thighs like he never wants to let you go. When you finally break apart, you rest your forehead against his and smile.Ā
someone to hold me down ¹ ⸻ lando norris x reader .
featuringĀ landoĀ norrisĀ ,Ā loveĀ islandĀ auĀ ,Ā strangersĀ toĀ friendsĀ toĀ loversĀ ,Ā slowĀ burn
twĀ cheatingĀ (inĀ theĀ loveĀ islandĀ sense)Ā ,Ā slightĀ carlosĀ sainzĀ slanderĀ forĀ theĀ plot
wordĀ count 17.8k (part one)
authorāsĀ noteĀ yeahĀ onceĀ againĀ iĀ haveĀ literallyĀ noĀ excuseĀ forĀ thisĀ oneĀ .Ā probablyĀ THEEEĀ mostĀ selfĀ indulgentĀ ficĀ iāveĀ everĀ writtenĀ asĀ iĀ amĀ proudlyĀ theĀ worldāsĀ biggestĀ loveĀ islandĀ fanĀ .Ā duringĀ myĀ catchupĀ onĀ loveĀ islandĀ ukĀ thisĀ yearĀ ,Ā iĀ startedĀ thinkingĀ aboutĀ thisĀ interviewĀ andĀ thenĀ theĀ ideaĀ ofĀ landoĀ onĀ loveĀ islandĀ justĀ burrowedĀ intoĀ myĀ brainĀ andĀ refusedĀ toĀ leaveĀ meĀ aloneĀ . this is part one of two and since i've made you all wait so long part two will be coming tomorrow, monday august 25 !! asĀ alwaysĀ letĀ meĀ knowĀ whatĀ youĀ think ,Ā andĀ myĀ 1kĀ celebrationĀ isĀ stillĀ openĀ ,Ā soĀ ifĀ youĀ likedĀ this pleaseĀ feelĀ freeĀ toĀ sendĀ inĀ aĀ requestĀ !!Ā titleĀ isĀ fromĀ cameĀ hereĀ forĀ loveĀ byĀ sigalaĀ Ā !
playlist listen to nothing beats a jet2 holiday here !
Youāve officially been a Love Island contestant for about five minutes, and youāre already questioning every life decision that led you here.Ā
You didnāt even sign up for this. No, that was the work of your friends back home, a completely twisted group response to your bad breakup cooked up over one too many mimosas at a brunch youād missed because you were crying too hard. When they told you they submitted an application for you, you laughed. You had a real job, one that involved spreadsheets and quarterly reports and tasteful business casual sets. Youād spent most of your adult life trying to avoid situations involving tequila-fueled meltdowns and catfights over semi-pro footballers with clockable hair transplants. You didnāt even watch the show.Ā
And yet here you are, standing outside a Mallorcan villa in your nicest bikini with a mic pack strapped to your ass and your heart pounding in your throat.Ā
āThink weāve still got time to run?ā Lily says as the two of you walk up the driveway together. The way sheās widening her eyes makes her look even more like a Disney princess, if thatās possible. You only just met the girl when the two of you stumbled out of matching Jeeps, but something about her sensible wedges and the way sheās clutching her suitcase like a lifeline make you feel a little less out of place. Itās comforting to know thereās a kindred spirit here, assuming neither of you bolt before the producers usher you into the house.Ā
You glance down at your own white-knuckle death grip on your suitcase. āNormally, Iād say we could make it to the gate before security tackles us, but not in these heels.ā
She laughs, a bright sound that does absolutely nothing to hide the nerves beneath. āGuess weāre stuck humiliating ourselves in HD.ā
āGuess we are,ā you reply, smiling. When you walk through the doors, you catch your reflection in the sliding glass, and it looks more like youāre baring your teeth for battle.Ā
The villa stretches out in front of you, an imposing monstrosity of cobbled limestone and manicured gardens. Producers have clearly been studying the Instagrams of people much cooler than you, because everything here looks like it was designed to be photographed for a brand trip. The infinity pool gleams, jewel-like, in the center of the backyard, those stupid expensive flamingo floats that seem to crop up like a rash at every hen party youāve ever attended bobbing lazily on its surface. Bright magenta and yellow beanbags are dotted strategically over a lawn so green it can only be artificial, leading up to the infamous white marble firepit.
In the distance, the ocean sparkles, Photoshop-perfect. You think absentmindedly that somewhere under all the cheeky neon signage telling you to eat, sleep, crack on, repeat! and the garish fluorescent photo panels the producers have slapdashed together, it's probably a beautiful house.
āOh my god, the last girls are here!ā a high-pitched voice screams from behind you, and without warning youāre swept into a swarm of tanned arms and blinding smiles and a cloud of coconut sunscreen so big it could probably melt the ozone layer all over again.Ā
Names come at you rapid-fire; youāre confident youāll remember absolutely none of them in ten minutes. Thereās Samie, a bubbly blonde primary school teacher who gives you a terrifyingly firm hug. Then George, a financial analyst from Norfolk who seems to have lost his shirt the first second he could. Oscar hangs back from the crowd a bit, flicking his swoopy bangs out of his eyes like he canāt quite decide if he wants to say hello to the two of you, but Gemma, a stunning brunette girl with a full sleeve of tattoos up her arm, bats her lashes and starts chattering away like youāve known each other for years.Ā
And then thereās the smile.Ā
Itās the kind that stops you in your tracks, bright and boyish, almost too big for the face it comes on. A nice face, objectively ā tan, deep dimples, eyes the color of seaglass framed by the kind of lashes that men never appreciate enough to deserve.
āHey, Iām Lando,ā the face says, extending a hand thatās warm when you shake it. You realize itās not just the smile: thereās something disarming about him, the way he seems genuinely curious about you rather than just sizing you up as a potential couple option.Ā Ā
āNice to meet you, Lando,ā you say, surprised to find you actually mean it. āWhat do you do?ā
āContent creator,ā he says cheerfully. āMostly travel and lifestyle, but yāknow, a bit of this, a bit of that. Nothing too serious.ā
It feels like the words flip a switch inside you. Of course he is. You can just imagine him in the fluoro room where youād filmed your intro clips, smiling into the camera with that same ridiculous grin: Hi, Iām Lando, Iām twenty-five, Iām an influencer from Glastonbury. My type is⦠a girl who doesnāt take things too seriously. Iām looking for⦠a bit of fun this summer, and weāll see where things go.Ā
āSounds fun,ā you lie politely. But youāve dated fun before ā fun just broke your heart, actually. Fun is messy, unpredictable, has you riding high until it leaves you when the going gets tough. Fun is not the plan this summer. No matter how nice of a smile it has.Ā
āWhat about you, then?ā he asks, eyes twinkling. If heās seen your walls go up, heās not showing it. āLet me guess. Something that requires actual qualifications instead of knowing which ring light angle makes a hotel breakfast look most appetizing?ā
You smile despite yourself. āSomething like that.ā
āBrilliant,ā he says, with no trace of irony. āLet me guess. Spreadsheets? Data? Proper grown-up stuff, I reckon.ā
āAs opposed to your improper not-grown-up stuff?ā you ask, the words coming out more teasing than you intended.
He grins. āExactly. Though Iāll have you know I take my not-taking-things-seriously very seriously indeed.ā
Heās charming, youāll give him that; thereās a kind of effortlessness to his chat that probably works wonders on most girls. But youāre not most girls. Not anymore.Ā
Youāre opening your mouth to respond when you hear it ā the familiar ding! of the Love Island phones. āIāve got a text!ā Lily cries, pulling out her newly issued villa phone. āIslanders, itās time for your first coupling ceremony. Please gather around the firepit immediately. Hashtag love at first sight, hashtag crack on,ā she reads.Ā
āHere we go,ā you mumble under your breath, glancing around nervously at the other islanders. Half of them you havenāt even properly spoken to yet, and ten minutes from now youāll be coupled up with one of them.
āWell, it was nice to meet you,ā Lando says, grin still playing at the corners of his heart-shaped mouth. āMay the odds be ever in your favor, and all that.ā
āBit dramatic. This isnāt the Hunger Games,ā you reply, even though your heart is thumping heavily in your chest.Ā
Heās already walking away, but he turns, flashing you that devastating smile one more time as he calls over his shoulder. āIsnāt it?ā
The firepit looks even more intimidating up close. Theyāve arranged you on stone benches that look like they were nicked from the worldās most expensive spa, boys on one side and girls on the other. The host struts in, eerily gorgeous in a shimmery dress that probably costs more than your rent with a smile that manages to be welcoming and predatory all at once. You canāt look too hard at her; you find yourself scanning the shadows, instinctively hunting for the cameras you know are lurking somewhere. From across the fire, Lando waggles his eyebrows at you before jutting his chin at a bush, where you finally catch the sun glinting off a barely visible lens.
āHello, my beautiful islanders!ā the host trills, and you snap back to attention. āHope youāre all settling in nicely to your new home. But before you get too comfortable, we should tell you we thought weād shake things up a bit this year.ā
Your stomach drops to your ankles. You thought you knew what to expect, but of course thereās a twist. Thereās always a bloody twist.
āThis year, instead of choosing your own couples, youāve been matched by our experts based on your applications,ā the host continues. āTheyāve analyzed your answers, your partner preferences, and your relationship histories to create the perfect matches.ā She pauses, clearly relishing the collective anxiety rolling off of the ten of you in waves. āSo letās see who youāll be sharing a bed with tonight, shall we?ā
She pulls out the first card with theatrical flair. āGemma, your perfect match is⦠Charles.ā One of the guys you didnāt get the chance to speak to steps forward, a tall brunette with the kind of messy hair that tries to look effortless but probably took forty-five minutes and half a tub of pomade to achieve. He murmurs a hello with an accent you canāt quite place and she meets him with a bright smile, looping her arm through his as the host continues.
āNicole, youāll be paired with George,ā the host says next. A stunning redhead with perfectly contoured cheekbones practically glides across the decking like sheās walking Paris Fashion Week. George lopes towards her, what he lacks in grace made up for in enthusiasm. They shake hands with awkward politeness, standing next to Gemma and Charles.
āLily, your perfect match is Oscar,ā the host reads, and you squeeze your friendās hand tightly. She shoots you a quick glance, something almost like relief flickering over her face as she walks carefully around the firepit. Oscar gives her a shy smile, and they hug quickly before standing together. Even across the deck, you can see the identical pink creeping up both of their cheeks.
āSamie, youāll be paired with Lando.ā The blonde practically bounds off the bench, beaming at Lando. He smiles back with the same ease you already recognize, and she links her arm through his.
āWhich leaves our final couple, you and Carlos,ā the host says, smiling kindly at you. When you look across the firepit, the boy youāll be sharing a bed with for at least the next week is already walking towards you.Ā
You send a mental thank you to your friends, because heās exactly what you would have imagined if youād filled out the application yourself ā tall, tan, dark hair, big brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles warmly at you. āHello,ā he says as he reaches you, and you catch the hint of a Spanish accent that makes the simple greeting sound like poetry.Ā
āHi,ā you manage, suddenly very aware of the camera in the bush and the idea that your first conversation with a cute guy is going to be replayed on national television tomorrow night. He pulls you into a brief, respectful hug, your cheek brushing against his linen button-up.
āDonāt you all look cozy,ā the host says, clapping her hands together. āNow, youāll have some time to get to know each other. But remember, this is Love Island,ā she adds, mischievous glint in her eye. āSurprises might be coming sooner than you think.ā
Sheās gone before you know it, producers trailing out behind her, and the group begins to disperse. āSo,ā Carlos says, hand resting on your back comfortably as he speaks in a tone low enough that it sounds like itās saved just for you. āThis is a bit odd, yes? I have never had my love life decided by people I have not met.ā
You laugh as he leads you over to a daybed. āDefinitely weird. Though I have to say, they could have done worse.ā
āCould they?ā He raises his eyebrows as he sits, something playful in his expression. āYou do not even know me yet.ā
When he pats the mattress next to him, you sit, legs crossed. āSo tell me about yourself. Letās see how well the relationship experts did.ā
He launches into an introduction, leaning forward and talking with the kind of eye contact that makes you a little bit dizzy. Heās an architect from Madrid, living outside of Oxford; heās athletic, the kind of guy who bikes to work every morning and plays padel matches with his coworkers. Heās smart, close to his family, reliable. You can already tell heās the kind of man your friends will approve of and your mother would love. You glance away for just a moment, eyes scanning over the lawn. Lily and Oscar are deep in conversation by the pool, and in the kitchen, Lando is trying to teach Samie an elaborate handshake, waving his hands wildly through the air as she giggles.Ā
āAlready scoping out the competition?ā Carlos says, following your gaze with an amused smile.Ā
āWhat? No,ā you protest, cheeks pink. āJust⦠people watching. Occupational hazard.ā
āWhat is your occupation, then?ā he asks, tilting his head.Ā
āMarket analytics,ā you explain. āI spend my life figuring out what people want before they want it themselves.ā
āAh,ā he nods, leaning back on his elbows. āUseful in here. So you are studying us all like lab rats.ā
āMaybe a little,ā you grin. You're surprised by how easy it is to talk to him already, the way the conversation flows despite the knowledge that every word is probably being recorded. He asks all the right questions, admires your ambition in a way that feels genuine, doesn't glaze over when you get a bit too passionate about your work. His English is almost perfect, but there's something charming about the way he occasionally pauses to search for the exact right word, the slight Spanish inflection that makes even mundane topics sound more interesting. You barely realize how much time has gone by until the sun starts falling over the infinity pool.
āI hate to say it, but I think the experts might know what they are doing,ā Carlos says, brushing his shoulder against yours.
āDonāt jinx it,ā you scold, smiling as you say it. āI have to admit, itās going better than I expected.ā
He gasps, putting a hand to his heart. āYou wound me.ā
āYou know what I mean,ā you say gently. āItās mental, isnāt it? To get matched up with a complete stranger on a reality TV show and expect it to work out?ā You glance around the villa, cameras winking at you mercilessly from the shadows. āBut somehowā¦ā
āSomehow it might work,ā Carlos says softly, slipping his hand into yours. His palm is stable, steady, the kind of touch that feels like a promise. Itās all exactly what you wanted.
You think.
About a week into villa life, you begin to understand why people sign up for this.
Itās not just the endless sunshine, or being surrounded by beautiful people 24/7, or the fact that your biggest decision every day is whether to wear the blue bikini or the orange one. Thereās a strange instantaneousness to everything that you love. Every moment feels weighty and important. Conversations that would normally take months surface over breakfast, and you find yourself genuinely caring about people you met five minutes ago.Ā
Your relationship with Carlos has been nice. Really nice, actually. He makes you cafe con leche every morning, a tradition youāre starting to enjoy even more than the simple mint tea you used to prefer. He cuddles you at night, holds your hand during dinner. Youāre taking things unbearably slow, in Love Island terms ā you havenāt even kissed yet, outside of pecks during challenges. But he never pushes you for more than youāre comfortable with; thereās something refreshingly mature about the way he approaches things, like heās letting you take the lead. Itās still early days, and youāre trying to let yourself trust again after the disaster of your last relationship. Somehow, in the safety of him, you think you might get there.Ā
But itās the friendships that have surprised you the most.Ā
You knew you and Lily would get along, but sheās become more like a sister over the past week; the two of you had hidden out on the terrace together in the middle of Charles and Gemmaās third screaming match of the week, and spent the evening giggling and trading dry one-liners. The two of you have been attached at the hip ever since ā that is, when sheās not wrapped up in Oscar. The two of them are almost sickeningly sweet together, and you can tell that the dreamy look he gets on his face every time she even glances his direction is going to melt her heart before long.Ā
Samie was more of a wild card, but youāve become fast friends too. Sheās got an infectious energy that makes everything fun, even mundane villa chores. But sheās also the one who found you crying in the bathroom during a particularly homesick moment and sat with you for an hour without asking any questions. She has the purest heart, which is why it makes you ache to watch her try to make things work with Lando when itās not quite clicking.
Which brings you to the biggest surprise ā the boy who has turned out to be absolutely nothing like you expected.
āTwenty quid says Charles and George get distracted halfway through and start showing off for G,ā Lando says, poking you in the side. Youāre both sprawled on one of the daybeds near the pool while the boys line up at the edge for a race. Georgia, the new bombshell in question, is sitting close by, long legs swishing in the water.Ā
āNot taking that bet,ā you respond, rolling onto your stomach as you watch Carlos adjust his position, all focused intensity as he prepares to dive. āThose two share one brain cell. And itās on holiday, too.āĀ
āSomewhere very far away,ā he agrees solemnly. āProbably got a budget flight to Koh Samui with its other brain cell lads. Gonna have a proper fiesta, maybe meet a nice nerve ending and have a summer flingā¦ā
You cackle, loud and unfiltered. āStupid,ā you say, wiping a tear from your waterline, and Lando smiles like making you snort with laughter was his entire agenda for the day.
āReady, set, go!ā Georgia calls then, and the boys dive in. Well, Carlos and Charles dive ā George plugs his nose and jumps, so heās already half a lap behind by the time he surfaces.
Carlos starts pulling ahead almost immediately, arms cutting through the water in clean, efficient strokes. āCāmon!ā you call, cupping your hands around your mouth as he swims towards your end.Ā
āShowing off for his girl, isnāt he?ā Lando says lightly, bumping his shoulder against yours.Ā
āHeās just competitive,ā you say, but you canāt keep the smile off your face. āBut yeah. Maybe a little.ā
āGood for you,ā he says, and when you look over his eyes are glued to the race like itās the Olympics. āCarlos, I mean. Heās good for you.ā
Your stomach twists at the flatness of his tone. Youāre not sure what to say, how to be grateful for your own connection without feeling like youāre rubbing it in the face of two of your closest friends here. Itās not Lando and Samieās fault things havenāt clicked between them.Ā
āThank god I didnāt take the bet,ā you say instead, bumping his shoulder back and pointing to the pool. Charles has started showboating, doing a stroke that is definitely not regulation as he passes Georgia.Ā
Lando looks over at you, eyes crinkling at the corners as he tries not to smile, and then like clockwork the two of you dissolve into giggles. āOh my god. Called it,ā he wheezes, watching as Charles realizes heās fallen behind even George and swiftly tries to course-correct. āWhat an absolute muppet.ā
āNah, look at Gemma,ā you gasp through your giggles, tilting your head across the lawn towards the gym where the brunette is doing an increasingly aggressive set of burpees, pretending not to stare murderously at Charles in plank position. āSheās actually going to kill him.ā
Lando grins. āDo you think his murder will make Unseen Bits?ā he teases, just as Carlos touches the wall, hauling himself out of the pool. Heās grinning triumphantly, water streaming off his body in rivulets.Ā
āDid you see, cariƱo?ā he calls out, slightly breathless as he jogs over to the two of you. āI won!ā
āWe saw, champion,ā you tease, tossing him the towel heād left at the bottom of the daybed. āBeating Dumb and Dumber. Very impressive.ā
He ignores the towel, picking you up and sweeping you into a damp hug that makes you shriek. āMi premio,ā he says to Lando, grinning smugly.
āCarlos, ew, stop, youāre all wet,ā you protest, wriggling in his arms.Ā
āWorth it for the win,ā he corrects, kissing you on the temple, and you beam up at him. From the corner of your eye, you see Lando look away.
āAm I interrupting?ā a honeyed voice says from behind you, and when Carlos spins around with you still in his arms, Georgiaās standing there, perfectly posed and undeniably gorgeous in a way that makes you acutely aware that this is the third time youāve worn this bikini already. āJust wanted to pull Lando for a chat.ā
Lando flicks a glance from you and Carlos to Georgia. āYeah, alright,ā he says, sitting up straighter. āShall we?ā
She smiles and grabs his arm, pulling him toward the beanbags in the center of the lawn. You realize with a sinking feeling sheās positioning the two of them directly in Samieās eyeline; you can see your friend frowning all the way from the kitchen.
āGood for Landito,ā Carlos mumbles against your neck, but youāre only half-listening, watching as Georgia throws her head back laughing at something Landoās said. He hasnāt actually made a joke, if the polite and slightly overwhelmed expression on his face is anything to go by.Ā
You hum noncommittally in response, motioning Samie over, and she bolts from the kitchen, ducking into the house and taking the long way around so she doesnāt look too obvious.Ā
Carlos sits the both of you down, finally loosening his grip, and you roll off his lap to face him. āYou do not like Georgia,ā he observes. Not a question, a fact.Ā
āI donāt not like her,ā you lie. Youāre not confrontational, and the villa is far too small for outright warfare, but thereās something about Georgia thatās rubbed you the wrong way since the moment she stepped in the villa. You donāt trust someone so calculated, someone who treats people as either obstacles or opportunities. And you definitely donāt like exactly how clear sheās made number one on both those lists.Ā
Carlos raises an eyebrow at you, and you sigh. āOkay, fine. Thereās just⦠something. I donāt know. Sheās very strategic.ā
āMost people here are.ā
āNot like her,ā you say, watching Samie emerge from inside just as Georgia leans closer, resting her hand on Landoās thigh.Ā
To her credit, Samie manages to keep her face from crumpling until she makes it to the daybeds. āYou two enjoying the show?ā she says as she sits down next to you. Her voice is carefully controlled, but you can see the hurt flashing in her eyes.
āYou okay, hun?ā you ask softly.Ā
She lets out a hollow laugh. āBrilliant. Just brilliant. Why does Georgia get more than friendly bants out of him? God, what am I doing wrong?ā
āIām going to go,ā Carlos whispers, clearly uncomfortable with the girl talk heās about to be swept into if he stays. He presses a kiss to your cheek as he gets up, wandering over to George and Charles, and Samie sniffles as she watches.Ā
āAw, Sam,ā you sigh, sneaking a look over at the beanbags again. You can see Lando glancing around like heās trying to see if anyone is watching the conversation, but heās engaging nevertheless, giving Georgia that easy, charming smile of his. āYou havenāt done anything wrong.ā
āI keep thinking maybe if I just try harder, or give it more time, something will click,ā she says, and thereās an unsteadiness to it that makes your chest ache. āBut he treats me exactly like he treats everyone else. Like a mate.ā
āHe cares about you, hun,ā you say gently.
āI know,ā she sighs. āI just donāt think itās the way I want him to.ā
Youāre about to respond when Georgia squeals from the middle of the lawn. āIāve got a text! Islanders, itās time for a challenge thatās all about following your heart. Girls, youāll be blindfolded. Boys, youāll enter one by one and kiss the girl youāre most interested in getting to know better. But hereās the twist: we wonāt reveal who kissed who. Hashtag love is blind, hashtag secret admirers!ā she screams, voice rising to a fever pitch.
The reaction is immediate and completely chaotic: Gemma declaring loudly that she better get a kiss, which you suspect is entirely for Charlesā benefit; Oscar wrapping an arm around Lily and whispering something in her ear that makes her blush; Georgia pulling out a tube of gloss and coating her lips, loudly smacking them together to blot them. From across the lawn, Carlos sends you a wink, and you feel a surge of relief to be with someone so uncomplicated.
āWhat if no one kisses me?ā Samie whispers, face bloodless.
āThen theyāre idiots,ā you say fiercely, throwing your arm around her shoulders. But your stomach is already twisting again with anxiety for her, because you can see exactly what she's seeing: the way the coupled-up boys are already gravitating toward their partners, the way Georgia is practically radiating confidence, the brutal mathematics of five kisses for six girls.
You think this might be the moment that breaks everything wide open.
The setup is ridiculous and dramatic, which you suppose is sort of the point. Theyāve arranged the girls in a circle on the lawn, and the six of you stand at attention as they slip gold headphones over your ears and a ridiculous silk eye mask over your eyes. The world goes dark, and for a moment, all you can hear is the pounding of your own heart. Without your sight, it feels like every other sense is heightened; you can smell Gemmaās coconut sun cream from across the lawn and the faint scent of jasmine from the trees outside. Even with the headphones on, before long, thereās an unmistakable sound of someone settling tentatively in front of you, feet scraping against the grass.
He leans in slowly, hand cupping your face and thumb brushing gently over your cheekbone before soft lips meet yours. Itās a nice kiss, sweet and warm, and you can just hear the small sound he makes as he presses more firmly against your mouth. His other hand rests lightly on your hip until he pulls away, brushing his lips over your forehead before he disappears.Ā
You barely have time to process the kiss before thereās another set of footsteps weaving their way through the circle. Youāre expecting them to keep moving, to hurry past you.Ā
Youāre not expecting a second kiss.Ā
Thereās no hesitation this time. Whoever it is, heās on you immediately, lips crashing against yours with an urgency that nearly knocks you off your feet. Thereās something about the kiss ā not just technique, though the guy clearly knows what heās doing. Itās something deeper, something that sparks through every nerve ending in your body. You find yourself pressing closer, pulling him into you, and the way he sighs and threads his fingers into your hair in response sends heat burning straight through you.
When you finally break apart, youāre both breathing hard. His forehead rests against yours, just for a moment, and you have to resist the wild urge to pull him back in again, to lose yourself in him. But like a flash, heās gone, leaving you literally and metaphorically in the dark.
It had to have been Carlos. The passion, the spark ā that was him showing you how he really feels, when youāre not holding back from him. The way your body responded to him, the electricity, is exactly how you imagine it feels to kiss the right guy, the magical, elusive one for you. It felt like falling off a cliff and coming home, all at the same time.Ā
You barely register the rest of the boys making their way around the circle. All you can think about is The Kiss.
When you pull off the blindfold, the afternoon sun is blindingly bright. You blink rapidly, letting your eyes adjust as you begin to catch expressions around the lawn. Thereās Carlos giving you a soft smile, eyes sparkling. Lily, cheeks pink and looking absolutely radiant. And devastation on Samieās face as she squeezes your hand like sheās trying to hold herself steady and whispers, āI didnāt get any kisses. Not a single one.ā
āWhat?ā you breathe, the words snapping you out of your daze. While you were basking in the magic of that second kiss, your friend was getting systematically passed over by every single boy in the villa.
āItās fine,ā she says quickly, bottom lip trembling. āI just ā just need a minute.ā
Sheās gone before you can stop her, walking towards the villa with her head held high and shoulders shaking.Ā
āBloody hell, sheās dramatic,ā Gemma says, not bothering to lower her voice.
Lilyās by your side before you can say anything in reply. āDonāt. Letās just go check on her,ā she says gently, and you nod.Ā
The two of you find her in the glam room, staring into her vanity mirror and aggressively applying concealer under her eyes. āSam, weāre so sorry,ā you say, sitting next to her and wrapping your arms around her.Ā
Lily sits to the other side, rubbing her back. āTotally,ā she agrees.
āItās fine,ā Samie says, voice tight as she drops the Beautyblender. āI mean, itās not, but it is what it is, right? Canāt force someone to fancy you.ā
āIt doesnāt mean they donāt fancy you,ā Lily says quickly as the other girls start filing in. āMaybe they were being respectful. Or maybe they were nervous, or āā
āLily,ā Samie stops her, gentle and firm, classic kindergarten teacher tone. āYou donāt have to make excuses for them. Iām a big girl. I can handle the truth.ā
āWell, the truth is that theyāre idiots,ā you soothe, petting her blonde curls. āAll of them.ā
āI didnāt get one either, Samie,ā Nicole says quietly from the other side of the vanity tables, and the room falls into an uncomfortable silence. You can feel the divide immediately ā those who got kisses and those who didnāt, and the guilt of being on the other side of that line.
āWait,ā Georgia says suddenly, mascara wand stopped midair. āIf two people didnāt get kissed, then someone got more than one. Who got kissed twice?ā
Thereās silence, and you can feel the heat creeping steadily up your neck. What would be worse: to tell the girls a truth you know will hurt, or lie right to your friendsā faces?
āI did,ā you say finally. The admission hangs heavy in the air, Samieās shoulders tensing under your touch.
āLucky girl,ā Georgia says, smiling just a little too sweetly. āIām pretty sure I know who mine was. Very familiar energy, if you know what I mean.ā
āGeorgia,ā Lily says, cutting a glance between Samie and Nicole, who are both studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone.Ā
āWhat? Iām just saying, itās nice to be properly appreciated āā
Samie stands, grabbing a towel and storming out of the room. The door slams shut behind her as Nicole lays on the ground, groaning and holding a pillow over her head.Ā
āAwkward,ā Georgia sing-songs, finally applying her mascara.Ā
āOh, bore off, G,ā you bite out before you can think better of it, leaving the room to follow your friend.
Dinner is more subdued than usual. Youād finally managed to calm Samie down enough to get her dressed and ready for the evening. She and Nicole both put on brave faces, but thereās something brittle in both their expressions that makes your chest tight. Youād pulled Georgia to apologize for snapping at her, too; she seemed mollified by your groveling, but thereās still a tense veil drawn over all the girls. Itās as if someoneās liable to explode if you put a foot wrong, so youāve all just decided not to speak much at all. The boys are completely oblivious, of course, making jokes and chattering on about football as if they didnāt turn the villa upside down hours earlier.
As night falls, youāre about to go check on Samie when Carlosā arm sneaks around your waist. āCan I pull you for a chat?ā he teases, pinching your waist. āJust us?ā
You smile, relieved. In all the chaos, youād almost forgotten about the good part of the challenge, the way Carlos had tilted your whole world on its axis with that kiss. āIād really like that,ā you say, leaning into his touch as he leads you over to the firepit.Ā
You sit beside each other, and itās quiet as you listen to the soft sound of the water lapping against the pool walls. āQuite a day,ā he says finally, thumb stroking over your knuckles.Ā
āDefinitely,ā you sigh, relieved he broke the silence as you rest your head against his shoulder.
āHow was the challenge for you?ā he asks, and thereās a note of nervousness to his voice that thrills you a little.
āIt was alright,ā you reply coyly.
āJust alright?ā he laughs, wrapping his arm around you. āI was hoping for a better review.ā
āIt was a nice kiss,ā you smile. Understatement of the year. When your mind wasnāt occupied by the drama of the afternoon, you havenāt really stopped thinking about it.
Carlos tilts his head. āJust one kiss?ā he says, curiosity in his voice.Ā
āYup,ā you hear yourself say, and youāre immediately confused by your own words. Why did you just lie?Ā
Carlos hums, wrapping his arm around you. āGeorge is not saying who he went for, in the challenge,ā he says, leaning in conspiratorially, like itās all a fun game. āI thought maybe he had kissed you.ā
āNo, just you,ā you repeat, doubling down. Your heart is beating faster now, and not in a good way. āNothing too dramatic for me. But really nice.ā
He smiles, and itās so genuine and warm that your guilt feels like it doubles in size. āI was thinking, cariƱo, maybe we could have our own little challenge here,ā he says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and the butterflies erupt in your stomach.Ā
āI think Iād really like that,ā you murmur.Ā
āGood,ā he whispers, cupping your face in his hands as he leans in. āBecause Iāve been wanting to do this since the moment I met you.ā He leans in and finally, finally presses his lips to yours, and ā
You should be melting into him. You should be burning from the inside out. But as his lips move against yours, sweet and tender, realization crashes over you like youāve just been launched headfirst into the pool.
This is the first kiss. The perfectly pleasant, entirely forgettable one. Which means the person who set your world on fire wasnāt Carlos at all.
When you break apart, Carlos is already smiling, eyes twinkling as he looks at you. āWhatās your review? Better than the challenge?ā he asks.Ā
You manage a smile, mind still reeling. āMuch better. This was real.ā
āExactly,ā he says, pulling you into his side. āNo games. Just us.ā
You focus on the warmth radiating from his body, trying to process what just happened. It was a lovely kiss, really ā genuine and romantic. It wasnāt The Kiss, but thatās okay, isnāt it? Maybe youāre overthinking it. Butterflies die eventually; this is steady, reliable, what youāve always wanted. And you like Carlos, you really do. Heās kind and handsome and patient, and thereās something there. You know there is.Ā
If you think about that second kiss and who gave it to you all night, nobody needs to know.
When the text comes the next morning declaring a recoupling on the horizon, youāre not shocked. Itās been nearly a week, and there was enough drama stirred up by the challenge for the producers to know theyāll have good material to work with. Whatās surprising is that Lando listens to George read out the announcement, and instead of celebrating with the other boys on the lawn, turns on his heel and promptly disappears back into the villa.
You find him on the terrace, remembering something heād said about how he used to hide out in the treehouse his dad built him when he was a kid and figuring the higher you could go, the better. Heās curled into the corner of the sofa, hands pressed to his face, looking like he hopes the pink and purple throw pillows will swallow him whole.Ā
āPenny for your thoughts?ā you say gently.Ā
He looks up at you, and the expression on his face is so pitiful it makes your heart twist. āThink youāre overpricing them.ā
You sit, folding your legs beneath you, and go for a teasing tone. āYou really are a drama king, arenāt you? Built for reality TV.ā
āOi,ā he pouts exaggeratedly, throwing his feet into your lap. āBe nice. Iām emotionally fragile right now.ā
You raise an eyebrow when he plays along, a surge of pride rushing through you at managing to make him feel slightly less horrible. āWhy are you stressed? Itās boysā choice. And youāve got Samie and Georgia both desperate to couple up with you.ā
āThatās the problem. I just āā he blows a gust of air out of his cheeks, flopping backwards onto the couch. āI know no matter what I do, Iām going to disappoint someone. And theyāre both great girls. I just donāt know what I want.ā
āOkay, then what do you not want?ā you say, shrugging your shoulders.Ā
He pushes up on his elbows to look at you. āHuh?ā
āMarket analytics, remember?ā you explain. āSometimes itās easier to rule out the bad options.ā You lean back against the pillows, the afternoon sun warming your skin as the rumblings of a classic Charles and Gemma fight begin below. āFor example: I definitely donāt want that,ā you say, pointing a finger down through the bougainvilleas on the railing.
Lando snorts. āDonāt think anyone wants that. Even them.ā
You smack him lazily on the shoulder. āCāmon,ā you say. āTry it.ā
āI donāt want to hurt Samie,ā he says. āSheās sweet, and a great girl, and she deserves the world.ā
āGood. Thatās good,ā you confirm, as encouraging as you can muster when thereās so obviously a but coming down the highway thatās liable to turn Samie into romantic roadkill. āWhat else?ā
Landoās quiet for a moment, fidgeting with the throw pillows. āI donāt want to pick someone because itās safe, or because everyone else thinks I should, or because itās convenient. Thatās not what Iām here for.ā
āWhat do you mean, convenient?ā
āYou know, the easy choice,ā he says, pushing his sunglasses off his face into his unruly curls. His eyes look impossibly green against his tan. āSomeone whoās obviously interested. Someone who fits what everyone expects.ā He squints, even though the sun is behind him. āSomeone who wonāt make things complicated.ā
āSomeone whoās right, not someone whoās easy,ā you echo.
He sits up. āExactly. I dunno. Iām scared Iām just convincing myself into a choice because itās what I should want. Not what I actually want.ā
Youāre quiet for a moment, thinking about Carlos and his smile and the way he holds you at night, like heās afraid to break something so precious. āSometimes the easy choice and the right choice can be the same thing.āĀ
His eyes donāt leave your face. āWhat if theyāre not? What if you know theyāre not?ā
Thereās something in his voice, vulnerable and almost aching, that makes you hesitate, heart beating hard in your chest. āThen I guess you have to decide what youāre willing to lose.ā
āRight,ā he says, jaw tightening. āYeah. Makes sense.ā
āIs this about Georgia, specifically?ā you ask tentatively. āBecause honestly, Lan, if you want my opinion, I think Samie āā
āItās not āā he interrupts, like he canāt hold the words back, and then catches himself mid-sentence, straightening his spine and smiling too stiffly to be real. āNah, I think youāre right. Good points, mate.ā He slides his sunglasses back on, and you have the strangest feeling that behind the lenses, heās looking right through you. āI should get ready. Boys have been bugging me to help them with their recoupling speeches.ā
You wince. You can picture Charles and George down there, complete messes. You donāt even know who theyāre going to pick, and honestly, they probably donāt either. āYikes,ā you say, feeling grateful you have Carlos.Ā
āYeah,ā Lando says, standing before you can say anything else. āGood luck tonight. Not that you need it,ā he adds hastily, disappearing through the sliding door.Ā
By the time evening rolls around, thereās a nervous energy humming in the air, and itās not just you whoās feeling it. Lily curls and recurls a strand of hair, biting her nails even though she has to be the safest girl in the villa. Gemma sprays her perfume over the entire glam room, claiming itās her emotional armor for the ceremony. You take your time with your makeup, more to have something to do with your hands than anything else.Ā
The air feels heavier than usual around the firepit. You stand between Samie and Lily, squeezing both their hands.Ā
āItās gonna be okay,ā you whisper to Samie.
She smiles ruefully. āEasy for you to say, hun.ā
The hostās voice cuts through the air with her trademark mix of warmth and gravity. āIslanders, tonightās recoupling will be boysā choice. One by one, youāll step forward and choose the girl you want to couple up with. The girl not chosen will be dumped from the island immediately.ā She smiles at the six of you before turning her attention to the boys. āOscar, youāre first.ā
Oscar stands, clearing his throat. āRight. Uh, I want to couple up with this girl because this whole thing is sort of mental, but she makes it feel like the most normal thing in the world. Sheās kind and smart, and itās only been a week, but being with her feels like Iāve known her forever. Iām excited to spend more time with her. So the girl Iād like to couple up with is Lily,ā he finishes with a soft smile, as if anyone is surprised. Lily practically floats over to him, absolutely glowing.Ā
āCarlos, youāre next,ā the host says, and he stands. Youāre not nervous, really; you know heās going to pick you.
āI would like to couple up with this girl because she has been lovely to get to know this week,ā he says softly. āFrom the moment she stepped into the villa, sheās been one hundred percent herself, good and bad, whether itās checking in on people when theyāre feeling down, or getting cranky before her coffee in the morning. Sheās funny and passionate and real. And stunning, obviously. All the small things add up to a perfect package.ā
When he says your name, you walk around the firepit to him, and when you lean up on tiptoe to kiss him, your heart jumps promisingly. The two of you sit, Carlosā arm resting around your shoulders.Ā
āThe speech was good?ā he whispers to you as the host starts speaking again, inviting George to stand.Ā
You nod, something warm blooming in your chest. It really was a nice speech ā you had no idea he was paying so much attention to the details in here. āPerfect, actually.āĀ
āIām glad, cariƱo,ā he says, dropping a kiss to your hair and giving Lando a subtle thumbs up.
Halfway through Georgeās speech, which is (of course) a paragraph longer than everyone elseās, you realize itās not about Nicole. You actually gasp out loud when Gemmaās name falls from his lips, bracing yourself for a tirade, but she actually looks somewhat pleased as George ducks his head to kiss her cheek.Ā
Charles, on the other hand, is clearly fuming. When heās called next, he canāt stop cutting glances at George, and his speech is filled with entirely perfunctory statements about how the girl he wants to pick is ānice to chat toā and āseems like a good person.ā He picks Nicole, and if nothing else, the two of them are striking together. Youād whisper a joke to Lando about how their hypothetical children would be the worldās first baby supermodels if he didnāt look positively queasy staring across the fire at Samie and Georgia.
āLando, youāre up,ā the host says softly, and you know this is the moment the producers are counting on, the chance for the first real drama of the season.Ā
Lando shifts, rubbing at the back of his neck. āIād like to couple up with this girl because sheās made things feel different since she came in. Sheās sharp. Funny. Surprising. And proper fit, too. Someone told me earlier to make the right choice, not the easy one,ā he says, voice soft now, and his eyes dart to you for the most infinitesimal, blink-and-youāll-miss-it moment. āAnd I guess this girl is the right choice, right now. So the girl Iād like to couple up with is⦠G.ā
Georgia beams, practically launching herself into his arms, but youāre not really looking. Youāre staring at the girl standing alone across the firepit, watching her heart shatter in real time.
āSamie, as you have not been chosen, you are now single and have been dumped from the island,ā the host says gently.Ā
The blonde swallows hard, nodding. āRight then. Itās been a lovely week, guys,ā she says, a slight wobble to her voice. The next few minutes blur together: thereās tears as she packs her bag, hugs, phone numbers written with eyeliner exchanged on scraps of tissue paper. Samie handles it with grace, emotion kept simmering beneath a placidly beautiful surface.
āIāll miss you so much, hun,ā you sniffle, throwing your arms around her as she finishes zipping her suitcase.
āLove you, babes,ā she whispers back, returning the hug. āDonāt let these boys mess you about. Just ā follow your heart, ākay?ā
The other islanders are gathered at the bottom of the stairs when sheās finally ready to go. Samie starts making her way down the line, hugging and chatting with everyone as she tugs her suitcase behind her. You find your way back to Carlos, heart heavy at the thought of losing one of your first friends here.Ā
āShe will be okay,ā Carlos says, squeezing your shoulder. āSheās a tough girl.ā
You watch as Lando hugs her and she whispers something in his ear. His cheeks go slightly pink, eyes wide, and then he nods, ruffling her hair with a sad smile. āYeah, she is,ā you say, though your chest feels tight as you wave her out.
The doors slam shut behind her, and for a moment, even with Carlosā arm around you, the villa feels just a little bit colder.Ā
You find them lounging on the beanbags, bickering like brothers.
āIām telling you, mate, you canāt just eat the green ones and leave the rest,ā Lando says, chucking a grape at Carlos. It bounces off his chest, skittering across the lawn towards the pool.
āWhy not, cabrón? They taste better,ā Carlos says, plucking another off the stem and tossing it into his mouth.
The banter is easy, practiced, like theyāve been friends forever instead of three weeks. āSwear youāre spending more time with Carlos than I am, Norris,ā you interrupt, flopping onto the beanbag between them. āDo I need to be worried?ā
Carlosā hand finds yours immediately as he laughs, wide and warm. āHe has his hands full with Georgia, I think.ā
āOoh. How is that going?ā you ask, waggling your eyebrows as Carlos takes another grape and feeds it to you. Itās not like you donāt know ā you all share a bedroom and Georgia's a loud kisser. Plus, you spotted the suspicious bruise where his neck meets his jaw as soon as you sat down, but you want to hear it from him.
Landoās ears go pink. āItās good,ā he says cheerfully. āNice girl.ā He pauses. āCarlos only brought G up so youād distract us from the actual argument. Which I was winning, by the way. If you only eat the greens, it leaves these half-eaten grape carcasses behind. Youāre ruining the aesthetic of the fruit bowl, mate.ā
āSpoken like a true influencer,ā you say teasingly, and something passes across Landoās face like an errant cloud in the endless blue sky above.Ā
Carlos squeezes your hand, eyes sparkling with mischief. āNot Landito. You know he does not just run around taking pretty pictures. He has a whole business.ā
Lando groans, tipping his head back. The sun floods his face. āDonāt start āā
āItās true,ā Carlos says, looking far too pleased with himself. āStaff, sponsors, contracts. Everything. His job is more complicated than mine.ā
You watch Lando, the way he seems to be actively trying to disappear into the beanbag rather than be the center of attention. āSeriously?ā
āItās not that big of a deal,ā he mutters.Ā
āNot a big deal?ā you echo, laughing in disbelief. āLando, thatās so impressive. I thought you just, like, messed about in front of a camera.ā Something shifts as you study his face, the picture youād painted in your mind of a charming, polished surface tilting to make room for something messier, deeper, more real.Ā
He gives you a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. āYeah, most people do.ā
āGuess Iāll have to start taking you more seriously, then,ā you say, voice low. His eyes flick up to yours, quick and uncertain, cheeks going pink under your gaze.
āAre you actually serious right now?ā Gemmaās voice carries through the air, and Lando bumps your shoulder and points across the pool to where sheās standing with her hands on her hips. George is lounging on a daybed with Max, one of the new bombshells, looking entirely unbothered.
āWhat?ā he shrugs. āYou asked what I thought about your story. I told you. Would you rather I just nod my head and agree with everything you say?ā
Gemma opens her mouth, and you brace for an impact that doesnāt come. Instead, she tilts her head, studying George with sudden interest. āActually, no.ā
āGood,ā George says. āThatād be awfully boring.āĀ
She actually laughs, and you watch the way their faces transform with unexpected softness. If you were to guess the story here, itād be this: local girl meets her match.
āI give them two days before they start trying to drown each other in the pool,ā Carlos pronounces.
āNah,ā you and Lando say at the same time, and he gives you a delighted smile before he continues. āTheyāre sort of weirdly perfect together.ā You nod, feeling a strange sort of pleasure in being the only two in the villa tuned to the same frequency, like two stars aligning.
After that, the chat falls into the easy rhythm youāve developed over the past few weeks; Lando starts talking about a trip to Madrid, and Carlos lights up about his hometown. From there, itās all how perfect the weather will be, the places he wants to show you, the restaurants he wants to take you to when you visit.Ā
Except somewhere in the conversation, visit becomes⦠something else entirely.Ā
āMy family has a beautiful place in the city,ā he says, eyes bright. āThereās such incredible energy in Madrid. You will really love living there.ā
You blink hard. āWhat?ā
āYes,ā Carlos says patiently, like heās speaking to a child whoās not quite catching on. āI am not planning on working for Vowles Designs forever. Someday I will go home. And it is not like you have anything tying you down to London.ā
Lando goes very still on the beanbag next to you, watching the two of you with careful eyes. āI āā you start, then stop. Carlos is your type on paper; the kind of guy who makes perfect sense. So why are you hesitating? āI guess we havenāt really talked about what happens after the villa.ā
āShe is overthinking,ā he says to Lando breezily, reaching for your hand. The touch feels safe, comfortable, easy. āDonāt worry, cariƱo. Weāll figure it out as we go. But Madrid is perfect for us.ā Something about his certainty itches, like sand catching under your bikini straps. Does he really think itāll be that easy for you to leave your world behind, to reshape your life entirely around him?
āI got a text!ā Charles yells then, cupping his hands around his mouth, and for the first time the words feel like a relief.
You flip over on the beanbag so you can see him, sipping from your water bottle as he begins to read at the top of his lungs: āIslanders, itās time to get each otherās pulses racing in tonightās challenge, Hearts on Fire! Please head to your dressing rooms to choose an outfit to participate in. Hashtag fanny flutters, hashtag heartstopping!āĀ
Selecting outfits is more cutthroat than youād anticipated; no oneās really taking the time to rifle through the rack that mysteriously materialized in the dressing room sometime in the past half hour, instead just grabbing whatever they can get their acrylics around. Youāre nearly the last there, spotting what looks like a French maid outfit and horrifiedly grabbing whatever the other one is before Nicole can. It turns out to be a naughty nurse costume, emphasis on the naughty ā itās barely a scrap of fabric, designed to be unbuttoned halfway down your chest. At least thereās props, a stethoscope and thermometer to hide behind.Ā
āTrade me?ā Georgia wheedles Gemma, whoās got a two-piece teal costume thrown over her arm. āI always wanted to be a cheerleader.ā
Gemma tilts her head, considering Georgiaās costume, which is definitely meant to be a cat but is really just a skintight black leather bodysuit with a pair of Party City ears and a tail. āFine,ā she shrugs, shoving her pompoms at Georgia. āIām more of a cat person, anyway.ā
Lilyās pulling a comically large pair of wings and a halo out of a bag, as Molly, the other new bombshell, unearths sparkly red horns and a tail from an identical one. āGirl, weāre matching!ā she giggles, pointing her pitchfork at Lily.Ā
āFitting,ā Nicole smirks from the other side of the room, clearly aiming for teasing but putting just a little too much bite into it.Ā
āLilyās an angel?ā Georgia laughs, peering over at the costumes. āOscarās gonna cream his jeans.ā
Lily splutters. āGeorgia! Oh my god. Thatās not even āā
āBabe, please, itās a good thing,ā she continues matter-of-factly, teasing her hair and puckering her lips in the mirror. āThe whole innocent, āI look like woodland creatures dress me in the morningā angle clearly does something for him.ā
Lilyās cheeks go red, covering her face with her hands, and you decide to jump in before things get any more ridiculous. āAnyone got any ideas on how to wear this?ā you ask, waving the dress through the air. You know Georgiaās a sucker for any opportunity to style someone, and sure enough, it diverts her attention long enough for Lily to tuck the costume out of eyesight and give you a grateful smile.
The producers have decided the boys will go first, which on one hand means more time thinking about all the ways you might embarrass yourself on national television, but on the other hand means you spend less time in the costume, so itās basically a wash. They promptly whisk you all out to the firepit, which has been completely transformed, red roses covering every available garden surface and cascading down the sides of the benches.
āStay calm, ladies,ā Gemma instructs, but next to her, Georgiaās practically vibrating in her seat.Ā
āBring out the boys!ā she chants, clapping her hands, and honestly, the whole thing is so nervewrackingly ridiculous that you canāt help but join in. She shoots you a surprised look that morphs into a pleased smile as the rest of the girls follow your lead.Ā
Some bass-heavy song starts pouring through the speakers, and Charles trots down the stairs in what looks like a leather skirt and a cape, a plastic sword in hand. You have no idea what heās supposed to be, but heās pulling it off. The firelight reflects off his skin, and you suspect the producers have subjected his chest to a fair amount of body oil.Ā
āAre you not entertained?ā he calls when he gets to the edge of the deck, and it clicks. Gladiator. āBecause Iām ready to enter your arenas.ā
You burst out laughing. Youāre not sure whether youāre hoping no one else will do an entrance line that cheesy, or everyone will.
Charles makes his way around the circle, moving with the confidence of someone who knows he looks incredible and has lost the ability to feel shame. His routine for you mostly involves moves with the sword and hip thrusting, neither of which set your heart racing too much, but you scream joyfully when he twerks for Molly, grinds against Gemma, and kisses up Nicoleās neck in quick succession.Ā
He bows when he leaves, and Molly fans at herself as you all giggle. The song changes, something with more of a sultry beat, and George jogs across the lawn in a pilotās outfit, all starched tight white shorts and a short-sleeve button-up.
āWelcome aboard Russell Airways,ā he says, grinning at you all. āPlease fasten your seatbelts, because youāre about to experience some serious turbulence.ā He promptly rips the shirt open, shimmying his long limbs and bare chest towards the six of you. Heās both more nervous and less coordinated than Charles, who is whooping from the balcony; he mostly focuses his attention on Gemma, picking her up as she wraps her legs around his hips. When he kisses her, you all cheer, and it seems to spur him on, pressing her down into the couch. He retreats up to the balcony after that, but not before he places his hat slightly askew on Gemmaās head.
āWhat a dork,ā she mutters, but youāre surprised to see a blush coating her cheeks as she touches the brim gently.Ā
Max comes out next to a rap song youāve never heard, dressed as a construction worker in a fluoro mesh vest, hard hat, a pair of distressed denim shorts, and work boots. āGet ready girls, Iāve got all the tools to get your hearts racing,ā he calls, flexing his biceps. Itās all a little on the nose for a scaffolder, but he just about makes it work.Ā
He basically skips over Molly, since they canāt couple up, but from the moment he reaches Gemma, you can tell heās bringing it with a higher level of intensity than the two that came before him. He takes her hand, dragging it down his chest, before he leans in and kisses her neck. āSomeoneās grafting!ā Nicole cheers delightedly, and he clearly takes it as encouragement, lifting her into the air before he sits, reversing their positions. She straddles him, squealing as his hands roam her curves.Ā
He makes his way down the line, approach more raw confidence than finesse. You have to hand it to him for trying with every girl, even if Lily looks like she wants to melt into the floor from the attention after he practically swings her around like a ragdoll. When he gets to you, he makes you hold the prop hammer above your head, swiveling his hips against yours without breaking eye contact. The whole thing is a bit much; you can feel your cheeks burning as you silently thank God that Carlos isnāt watching. When he jogs up the stairs to the balcony, you scan the couches for reactions, and smile when you see Nicole looking genuinely flustered.
The song changes again, some house music track this time, and Oscar makes his way down the stairs in a cowboy costume. āHowdy, ladies,ā he says, and you can already see the blush on his cheeks.Ā
āYou know what they say: save a horse, ride a cowboy,ā you lean over to tease Lily.Ā
āShut up,ā she whispers back, but sheās watching Oscar run across the lawn in his chaps like itās primetime television.Ā
For someone who is clearly mortified by the entire ordeal and looks like heād rather die than dance in public, Oscar does a surprisingly okay job. He keeps it respectful, all two-steps and hat tipping, and when he clasps your hand in his and do-si-dos you around the firepit, you sort of just want to give him a hug. He saves Lily for last, and actually attempts some proper moves, scooping her into his arms and spinning her around before dipping her into a kiss.Ā
āSo sweet,ā Molly coos in a tone just this side of condescending as he leaves. You donāt think Lily notices; sheās watching him go like he just lassoed the moon for her personally.Ā
The music shifts, smooth and sensual, and you already know whoās coming next. This could only be Carlos, and when he appears at the top of the stairs, you know youāre in for it. Heās a firefighter in tight black shorts, red suspenders, and work boots, and even the ridiculous plastic hat canāt make him look anything less than incredible. āTime to turn up the heat,ā he calls, and you whoop joyfully in your seat.Ā
He keeps things respectful with the other girls; maybe he can feel your gaze on him, bright and burning against his skin as he moves. He picks Lily up effortlessly, throwing her over his shoulder in a classic firemanās carry and toting her around the fire. Itās Georgia next, skipping over you; he eases her to her feet and grinds against her briefly. Then he moves to Nicole, giving her a lap dance that has her fanning herself frantically. With Gemma, he goes playful, letting her grab the suspenders as he rolls his hips. By the time he gets to Molly, itās a slow body roll, her hands sliding down his chest as he moves to the beat. Thereās no lingering contact, no kisses ā just enough heat to remind everyone he could have them wrapped around his finger if he really wanted.
Finally, he comes back to you, and it feels like the world narrows to just Carlos and the way heās looking at you, raw with want. āYouāre looking a little overheated, cariƱo,ā he smirks, hands finding your waist, pulling you up from the bench and holding you close as he moves against you, slow and deliberate and absolutely filthy.Ā
When he finally kisses you, itās desperate, aching, your hands tangling in his hair as he presses himself against you. The effect is overwhelming; youāre dazed when he pulls away, a satisfied smirk on his face. The boys on the balcony are whooping so loudly you can barely hear yourself think. You know youāre biased, but youāre not sure how anyone could top that.
Then a Megan Thee Stallion song starts blaring from the speakers, and Lando struts out of the villa in taped-up glasses, a sleeveless button-up shirt with a plaid bowtie, and suspenders holding up the tiniest pair of plaid shorts youāve ever seen.Ā
āWhatās up, ladies,ā he grins, adopting a ridiculously dorky lisp, and you can feel the smile spread over your face before you can stop it. āWho wants to see my PHD?ā
The boys are already laughing from the balcony, and Landoās eyes sparkle as he approaches the firepit, the sound seeming to spur him on. He goes for Lily first, ripping the shirt buttons so the linen flutters loose around him and making her touch his abs. When he pretends to adjust his glasses and winks at her dramatically, she lets out a giggle.
Youāre next, and Lando pulls a calculator from god knows where, approaching you as he types something with exaggerated concentration. āCheck out my latest formula,ā he grins, wiggling his eyebrows as he turns the device around so you can read the screen: 80085.Ā
āYou are actually twelve years old, oh my god,ā you say as he comes closer, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, but youāre laughing so hard you can barely get the words out.Ā
He rolls his hips against yours, leaning forward to whisper in your ear: āHaving fun yet?ā
Youāre so close you notice heās wearing his actual glasses, with costume tape wrapped around the nose bridge, and something about it makes your heart thump in your chest. āAlways with you,ā you whisper back before you can stop yourself, and the smile he gives you in return is absurdly bright.
The moment is over quickly; he kisses you on the cheek and jumps up, skipping Georgia and moving on to Nicole. He hands her the calculator like itās a reward before straddling her and grinding against her so exaggeratedly that it has her shrieking with laughter. Gemmaās next, and he keeps leaning into the bit, spinning her up from the bench with a playful tug and then shimmying his body down hers, the bowtie straining around the muscles in his neck. Molly gets a full show of body rolls, and itās clear that heās being totally unserious about it, but thereās something about his confidence that makes it all tick.
He finishes by doubling back to Georgia and lifting her effortlessly off the bench as she wraps her legs around his waist. When he kisses her, bouncing her against him with her hands tangling in his hair, you cheer with the others.
āRight, girls, time to return the favor!ā Charles yells from the balcony as the boys jump around, high-fiving and chest bumping each other.Ā
Fifteen minutes later, youāre on your way to a panic attack.Ā
Like the boys, youāll be going out one by one. Youāre smack in the middle, which suits you fine. Youāre already freaking out ā going first or last would up the stakes exponentially in a way you know you definitely canāt handle. You can barely even look at yourself in the mirror; the short white dress hugs every curve dangerously and the red lace push-up bra has your tits sitting somewhere around your collarbone.
Lily goes first. Gemma follows her, wielding her tail like a whip. Then Nicole. You canāt see their performances, but you can hear the cheers, the laughter, all the boyish exuberance from outside as each girl dances, and it makes your palms sweat against the plasticky fabric. How are you going to compare?
āYouāre up,ā one of the producers says as you hear the music start back up and the moment youāve been dreading arrives. They practically have to shove you out the door, but as you walk down the stairs on shaking legs, a thought occurs to you: Lando was silly and didnāt pretend to be sexy. He was completely himself, and it completely worked.Ā
You can do that. You think.
You saunter slowly across the lawn, swinging the stethoscope above your head like a lasso. āHi, boys,ā you say, popping the buttons one by one down your chest, and they whistle and howl accordingly, hyping you up. āI hear youāre in need of some medical attention.ā
Carlosā eyes are wide as you reach the firepit, raking over you unabashedly, but you head to the other side of the benches first. You have to make him wait, even if it kills you.Ā
Your decision means George is up first. āThe love doctor has arrived,ā you grin, wrapping the stethoscope around his neck and planting one foot next to his lap. You wind your hips, using the prop to pull him closer, and he splutters with surprise.Ā
Oscarās sitting next to him, but thatās a no; itād be like grinding on your awkward younger cousin. You blow him a kiss as you go by on your way to Max, and he gives you a little salute in return.
You sit on Maxās lap next, his hands encircling your waist as you pull the thermometer out of your bra and place it on his tongue. You wait a moment before taking it out of his mouth, winding your hips as you pretend to read it and affect a gasp. āOh my god,ā you say, small grin on your face as you fan yourself. āIt looks like heās got the hots for me.ā
The boys absolutely lose it. Lando lets out a cackle, covering his mouth with his hands, and George literally doubles over, clutching his stomach as you move on to Charles. āWhatās my diagnosis, doctor?ā he says cheekily, grinning up at you with an eyebrow cocked.Ā
You grin, bracing your knees on either side of his waist, and his breath hitches. āBreathing seems⦠irregular. I think it might be terminal,ā you say, pouting as you roll your hips. You glance over at Carlos; heās staring, eyes fixed on you, and a current of something electric zips beneath your skin. āBut donāt worry, Iām very experienced with bedroom ā I mean, bedside manner.ā
You kneel in front of Lando next, pulse racing under Carlosā gaze. Taking the stethoscope from around your neck, you slide it from his heart down his abs to his hips. āSeems like Iām getting your blood pumping,ā you grin, crawling up and bouncing your body against his in time with the music. To his credit, he moves his hips in time with you with a smirk on his face, eyes bright. āOr maybe something else pumping.āĀ
The firepit erupts, and you swear you can hear Gemma screaming from the balcony. āAbsolutely ridiculous,ā Lando says fondly as you straighten up, kissing his cheek.Ā
When you turn to Carlos, his eyes are molten.Ā
āMy star patient,ā you say, voice low and actually sultry in a way that surprises you as you reach your hand out to him. He immediately tangles his fingers with yours, something possessive and hungry in his touch. You pull him to his feet, and his hands immediately go to your hips, so close to you that you can feel your skin prickle. Once youāve walked him back to the other side of the firepit, you place a hand on his chest and push, just slightly, and he falls back, hitting the deck and looking up at you as you drop slowly to the ground in front of him.Ā
āI think he looks a little sick,ā you say, eyes glittering as you look towards the other boys. āWhat do you think? It looks like he might need mouth-to-mouth.ā
The cheers are deafening as you slide on top of Carlos, straddling his hips. His chest rises and falls rapidly as his hands find your waist, gripping onto you like itās the only thing keeping him on this planet. āFeeling better yet?ā you tease as you lean down, lips just brushing over his.
āNot even close,ā he murmurs, pulling you into a searing kiss, hands sliding up your back as you roll your hips against his. When you finally break apart, breathing hard, thereās something wild in his eyes, and you know youāve put on a good show. You blow him a kiss as you get up, walking slowly across the lawn, and he holds a hand over his heart.
Carlos is still lying on the deck when you emerge onto the balcony, breathless, and the girls pull you into a hug. āYou killed it!ā Gemma squeals against your hair.
āOh my god, I think I blacked out for the whole thing,ā you giggle, letting the adrenaline of the moment drain out of your body. āHow did yours go? Anything exciting?ā
āIt was kind of fun, actually? George looked absolutely gone for Gemma, as per. Thought he might have a heart attack. And Nicole was proper brilliant,ā Lily chimes in.Ā
āYou looked quite cozy with Charles there,ā the redhead sniffs, ignoring the younger girlās compliment as she turns her focus on you.Ā
Before you can tell her youāre very happy with Carlos and arenāt going to get your head turned by a guy who hasnāt cleaned his water bottle once in the three weeks youāve been here, the music starts pounding through the speakers again. Georgia goes cartwheeling across the lawn, straight into a split that has the boys yelling before she even hits the deck. Sheās got dancerās confidence, all hair flips and effortless rhythm as she winds her hips in a way that makes your stomach twist. Molly follows with even more bravado, living up to her costume as she dances for everyone, even Oscar. By the time she makes it to Carlos, dropping her hips to the ground and sending him toppling back against the bench, hands behind his head, you feel ridiculous for ever thinking you could compete. Youāll be lucky if you even raised Carlosā heart rate the most.
Once Mollyās finished, the producers summon the rest of you down to the firepit again. The air is buzzing with nervous anticipation; you find Carlos at the end of the benches, and the second you sit down his arm slides around your waist, grip tight as he pulls you possessively against his side.Ā
Georgeās phone buzzes and he pulls it out. āTime for the results. George, your heart rate went highest for Gemma,ā he reads off his phone, and you clap, giving Gemma a thumbs up.
āYour heart rate went highest for Lily,ā Oscar reads. āNo shock there,ā he adds with a grin.Ā
Max is next, and since heās single you find yourself genuinely interested in who itāll be. āYour heart rate went highest for Georgia,ā he states, flicking a sheepish glance at Lando.Ā
āFair play, mate, she killed that,ā Lando replies, a wide, unbothered grin on his face.Ā
āYour heart rate went highest for Molly,ā Charles says next, and Nicole goes deadly still. āWell, she was last!ā he tries, but she doesnāt look at him, just keeps staring into the fire.
Lando unlocks his phone when it buzzes. āLando, your heart rate went highest for āā He stops, blinking down at the screen like the words have gone fuzzy. āUh, you,ā he says, the tips of his ears going pink as he looks directly at you.Ā
Carlosā arm tenses around you, and you laugh, a high-pitched, uneven thing. āWell. Thanks, Lan,ā you say, voice hoarse. He just nods in response, rubbing the back of his neck.Ā
Itās back to the beginning, then: Gemmaās heart rate goes highest for George (which he seems immensely pleased by), Lilyās for Oscar, and both Molly and Nicole for Carlos.Ā
āThree out of six?ā you whisper to him. āSave some sexiness for the rest of us, yeah?ā He grins bashfully, and the tension in your chest loosens.Ā
Georgia goes next, and her heart rate went highest for Charles. Lando keeps a smile on his face, shrugging his shoulders like he couldnāt care less. Then your phone buzzes, and you read out loud: āYour heart rate went the highest for Lando.āĀ
Wait. What the fuck?
By the time the words process in your brain, the firepit has already erupted into chaos. Carlos doesnāt say a word, but the way he pulls his arm away from you feels like a statement in itself. Your cheeks are burning; you can barely stand to look at Lando, but when your eyes flick his way heās already staring at you, eyes wide.Ā
āInteresting,ā Georgia snarls, smile razor-sharp as the rest of the islanders thin out across the lawn, eyes pointed anywhere but the four of you.
You laugh nervously, heart rate higher than itās been all night. āItās just a challenge, G.ā
āIs it though?ā she says, eyes narrowing as her gaze bounces between the two of you.Ā
āCāmon, Georgia,ā Lando says, low and soothing. āIt doesnāt mean anything.ā
āRight, of course it doesnāt,ā she snaps, hand tightening around his arm possessively as she yanks him up. āBecause nothingās ever serious with you.ā
You think youāre probably the only one who sees his expression crumple. He barely has time to shoot you an apologetic look before she pulls him away from the firepit, voice going shrill and carrying all the way across the lawn until they enter the villa.Ā
Itās just you and Carlos then, and the ache on his face makes you wonder how such a silly challenge could make everything so complicated. āSo,ā he says, posture rigid as he sits next to you. āLando.ā
You sigh. āCarlos. You went right before him. My heart rate was probably still going mental from that kiss. And Landoās my friend, and he made me laugh. Thatās it. It was just ā weird timing.ā
āTiming,ā he echoes, voice hollow.Ā
āExactly,ā you say, tugging at his hand; he lets you intertwine your fingers with his, but thereās a vacancy to the act that makes you even more determined to convince him. āThe whole thing is stupid anyway. You know thereās nothing between me and Lando. I bet those monitors arenāt even accurate.āĀ
You can see how badly he wants to believe you. But thereās still something stubborn in his expression, a suspicion that makes your chest tight with frustration.
āItās just a game, Carlos,ā you say softly. āIām with you. One challenge result isnāt going to change that.ā
Heās quiet for a long moment, staring into the darkness. The fire casts strange, angular shadows across his face. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. āSorry. Iām being stupid,ā he says, resting his head against your shoulder.
āYou arenāt,ā you reply automatically, even though part of you kind of thinks he is. āI get it. But you donāt need to worry. You know that, right?ā
He nods, skin warm against yours, and when he lifts his head to look at you thereās a hint of a smile on his face. āI know.āĀ
āGood,ā you say, smiling back. āNow stop being daft about this stupid challenge and kiss me properly.ā
He leans in obediently, and you meet him halfway. The kiss is soft, sweet, built to reassure. But even after everything, you can still taste the doubt on his lips.Ā
āWeāre good?ā you mumble into the kiss.Ā
He pulls away, but not before pressing one more kiss against the corner of your mouth. āWeāre good. Bed?ā
āYou go,ā you say, waving your hand. āJust gonna sit for a bit.ā
You stay out long enough for the night to stretch, for the fire to turn to embers and die under your gaze. As you make your way back towards the villa, you catch a glimpse of movement in the kitchen. Landoās standing at the stovetop with his back to you, shoulder tense as he watches the kettle boil.Ā
āHey,ā you whisper as you pad into the kitchen.Ā
He turns, and youāre surprised to see his eyes are rimmed red. āHey.āĀ
āIām sorry,ā you start hesitantly. āAbout earlier. I shouldāve said something to G, I think. Or to you. The whole heart rate thing was āā you pause, not exactly sure where youāre going. āI feel bad.ā
He grabs another mug without asking, placing it next to his on the counter as the kettle begins to whistle. āNothing to be sorry for. Not your fault the monitors are mental.ā
āHow are you holding up?ā you ask, hopping onto a stool.
He shrugs, turning off the burner and pouring the water with a practiced hand. āGās furious with me. Says I embarrassed her since my heart rate wasnāt fastest for her.ā
Your eyebrows knit together. āBut her heart rate went fastest for Charles.ā
āBelieve me,ā he says dryly, sliding one of the mugs across the counter to you, āI pointed that fact out.ā
You take a sip, the familiar mint taste soothing over your tongue. āIām sure that went well,ā you say, lips twitching before both of you lapse into exhausted giggles.Ā
āI dunno why she got so upset,ā he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. āItās not like those things are actually scientific.ā
āThatās what I said to Carlos!ā you say, and the way he understands you without explanation makes you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time since the challenge ended. āI mean, itās so ridiculous. They literally design these challenges to stir up drama. I wouldnāt even be surprised if the results were rigged.ā
āYou mean reality TV isnāt real?ā he says, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. āCouldāve fooled me.ā
You laugh, and it hits then, suddenly and without warning ā the terrifying certainty that sitting here in the dark kitchen with him, steam curling off your mugs, is the realest moment youāve had in weeks.
āGeorgia will come around,ā you say firmly, shaking off the thought. āSheās going to feel some type of way. The whole challenge is made to mess with peopleās heads. But youāre good together.ā
āYou think?ā
āLook, Gās not one of my favorite people here. But you are. And she makes you happy,ā you say, shrugging. āThings will get back to normal.ā
Something flickers across his face then, but itās gone too quick for you to analyze it. āWhat about you and Carlos? You okay?ā
You sigh. āYeah. He was like G, taking the whole thing a bit too serious, but we worked it out. He just needed a little reassurance that it was meaningless, you know?āĀ
āMeaningless,ā he repeats cautiously, like heās testing the word on his tongue. āYeah. Right. Well, thatās good. Glad things got sorted.ā
Thereās silence for a moment, light from the neon signs glowing pink against his cheeks. āIām glad I have you, you know?ā you say eventually, almost a little shy, like youāre unlocking some small part of yourself just for him. āItās just nice to have a friend here. Someone who doesnāt make everything so complicated.ā
He watches you over the rim of his mug, eyes crinkling at the edges as he takes a long sip. āYeah. It is,ā he agrees, and the two of you finish your tea in a comfortable, peaceful quiet.Ā
āI should probably go. Carlos is waiting,ā you say, getting up to rinse your mug in the sink.Ā
He nods, letting you brush by him as you turn the water on. āThanks for this,ā he says softly.
You look at him, and you can tell he doesnāt just mean for the tea. āāCourse. What are friends for?ā
When you slip into bed next to Carlos, he pulls you into him, reassuringly familiar. You turn it over in your head like a mantra: it doesnāt matter what the monitor said. You know where your heart really is.
You just need to keep reminding yourself of that.
It takes you about a half second of consciousness to realize Carlos isnāt where you left him.Ā
Your eyes shoot open, and when the lights flicker on, you sit bolt upright in a cold and empty bed, eyes scanning the room in a mental tally. Six girls. No boys. Your friends forced you to watch enough of the show before you left to know what that means.Ā
Casa Amor has arrived.
Thereās a beat of stunned silence, and then everyone starts talking at once ā carefree laughter, confused murmurs, groggy protests that itās too early for this. You push back the covers, adrenaline rising in your chest. Everything is gone. Even Carlosā name has been scraped off his dresser. You can only hope youāll be more permanent in his mind for the next four days.Ā
Neatly folded on your chair is Carlosā gift: the navy hoodie he always throws on in the mornings, well-worn to the point of softness. It still smells like his cologne, and you smile and hug it to your chest, warm despite the AC blasting through the room. Itās nice. Nothing over-the-top, of course ā thatās not Carlosā style ā but it warms your heart to know he was thinking of you, especially after all the tension last week with the heart rate challenge. Youāre about to pull it on when your fingers brush unmistakably against a folded piece of paper in the front pocket.
Your heart leaps at the gesture, fingers scrabbling for purchase as you pull the scrap out. But when you unfold it, itās not Carlosā neat block handwriting; itās something messier, rounder letters, script just uneven enough to feel sincere.Ā
i know you hate when people leave without saying goodbye, so⦠consider this my goodbye 4 now!! donāt spiral too much ya muppet, iāll keep an eye on carlos for you xx - L
You read it once, twice, a third time, warmth spreading through your chest. Trust Lando to remember an offhand comment youād made at least a week ago about your mum leaving for business trips without saying goodbye, how you hated waking up to find people you cared about gone.Ā
You fold it up carefully and slide it back into the front pocket, pulling the hoodie over your head. Today, youāre keeping both your gifts close to you.
You donāt even pretend to entertain the new boys, really. Franco tries to flirt with you, but he rolls his Rās the same way Carlos does, and you canāt stomach the conversation without feeling like youāre cheating, trying to replace something you havenāt even lost. Lily makes a half-hearted attempt to get to know one of the others, a gangly curly-haired boy named Ollie whoās awkward in a way thatās almost charming. But her hands keep fidgeting with her new bracelet, and when nighttime rolls around, youāre both on the daybeds, string lights twinkling above you as you curl up in Carlos and Oscarās hoodies and hope against hope that theyāre thinking about you too.Ā
Georgia, on the other hand, is having the time of her life.
Sheās flitting between the new boys like itās the first week all over again. First Yuki the sous chef is making her breakfast, and sheās giggling as he feeds her bites of pancakes on the terrace. Then sheās starting a splash fight with Liam in the pool, shrieking when he dunks her under the surface. All of it irritates you more than it should.
You catch her in the kitchen on day three, when youāre cleaning up from dinner. She flounces in, refilling her water from the spigot as you dry the dishes. āSo,ā you say as casually as you can, āwhereās your head at, with all this?ā
āExactly where it should be,ā she grins smugly. āIām exploring my options, arenāt I?ā
āBut what about Lando?ā you say, stacking plates in one of the cabinets.
āWhat about him?ā
You flinch, turning back around to face her. āHe really likes you, you know,ā you say carefully. āAnd youāre going to get him dumped from the villa if you keep cracking on the way you are.ā
She blinks at you, hand on hip. āItās Love Island, babe. Itās not like Iām sending him to the guillotine or something. Honestly, you and Lils act like Iāve murdered someone every time I have a conversation.ā
āItās not about the conversation,ā you scowl. āYouāre leading someone on, G.ā
Her eyes narrow just a little, and for a second, something colder flickers through her usual bubbly persona. āAnd youāre not?ā
You stiffen. āWhatās that supposed to mean?ā
She takes a long swig from her water bottle, then flashes you a saccharine smile that doesnāt quite reach her eyes. āJust donāt get righteous with me, babe. Youāre not exactly the picture of honesty, so maybe worry about your own couple before mine.ā
Before you can answer ā or ask her what the fuck sheās on about, since youāve been loyally sleeping on the daybeds all week ā she turns on her heel and prances off like the conversation never happened.Ā
The words echo in your mind the entire night, long after the lights of the villa go out. You lie awake listening to the buzz of mosquitos and Lilyās snores, crinkling Landoās note between restless fingers as your hoodie bunches uncomfortably under your cheek, until the morning sun bleeds golden over the island again.Ā
The villaās strangely tense all day, everyone walking on eggshells like they know the end is coming. When the text comes to gather around the firepit immediately, itās almost a relief.
Molly goes first, unsurprisingly; she wasnāt coupled with anyone before, so sheās had her pick this week. She goes with Yuki, whoās refreshingly outspoken for a Casa boy, enough that youād wager he actually likes her and wasnāt just going for the only truly single girl. You give her a thumbs up, sending a silent thank you to the universe that you wonāt have to eat any more of Charlesā sludgy overnight oats now that thereās an actual chef in the villa. Max high fives her when he comes back with Camilla, a mild-mannered nurse with the prettiest goddess braids youāve ever seen; you like her immediately, as soon as she gives Molly a hug like sheās known her for ten years instead of ten seconds.Ā
Nicoleās after her, choosing Franco. Apparently the boxers hadnāt helped her remember Charles much at all. Not that he seems bothered, though ā he comes strolling through the door with Chloe, a redhead with chic blunt bangs who looks like her natural habitat is chainsmoking outside a Parisian cafe with a sketchbook. They fit together, you suppose as you clap politely.
Gemma gets a text then, and youāre surprised to see her switch to Liam. He doesnāt seem her type, and youād thought she and George were pretty solid. When he walks back in with someone on his arm, too, a stunning girl named Meg with glossy curls and legs for days whoās beaming like she just won the whole show, you think you must have misjudged. That is, until George starts staring daggers at Liamās frosted tips and you clock the way Gemmaās smile doesnāt quite reach her eyes.Ā
Georgiaās phone buzzes next. She stands up with a slight smirk, clearly reveling in the drama. āIāve decided to switch,ā she announces breezily, and you try to ignore the way your heart drops as she links hands with Jack, the Aussie PE teacher whoād been following her around like a puppy all week.Ā
A moment later, Lando comes bounding in, solo. You can see the familiar bright grin on his face from a mile away, which also means you can see the exact moment it falters when he registers Georgia seated next to someone else, the loss rippling through the air like an aftershock.Ā
āHappy for you,ā he says to the two of them, exceedingly polite, and sits down at the edge of the firepit, knee brushing against yours as he stares straight into the flames.
Lilyās next, and you squeeze her hand supportively as she stands up. āIām staying loyal to Oscar,ā she says, twisting his bracelet nervously around her wrist. āSome things are worth waiting for.ā The pause feels endless, until Oscar appears alone in the doorway with a bashful smile tugging at his lips. She bursts into tears the second she sees him, and he doesnāt even wait for the producers to text their OK before he sweeps her into a tight hug, both of them clinging to each other like thereās no one else in the villa.Ā
And then itās just you, standing in front of the firepit with shaking hands and a lump in your throat you canāt seem to shake. āI came here to find something real, and I have,ā you say, voice steady even if your heart is anything but. Your fingers toy with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, warm over your cocktail dress. āSo Iāve decided to stick with Carlos.ā
The wait feels like the longest thirty seconds of your life, until Carlos rounds the corner and even in your panicked state, you can see heās alone. Relief courses through your body. He stayed loyal. You both ā
He turns back, extending his hand. Another figure steps into view beside him, and you discover what it feels like to have your heart break in under a minute.
Sheās petite, blonde, brilliant blue eyes, a nervous smile that suggests that sheās overwhelmed by the attention of the moment, uneasy with the way the girls seem shocked and the boys seem entirely unsurprised. Her name is Emma. At least thatās what you think she said. You canāt quite hear her over the ringing in your ears. Your face feels so hot you think you might genuinely overheat. Itās not helped by the fact that youāre still wearing his fucking hoodie.Ā
The moment stretches, warps, splits at the seams. Youāre only pulled out of your daze by the familiar, cruel ding! of a text message beside you on the bench. You blink hard, not even remembering when exactly you sat down.Ā
āThe two of you are now single and vulnerable,ā Lando reads off his phone next to you, and you know exactly what that means. Vacation is over, in the most humiliating way you can possibly imagine.Ā
You take a deep breath, blinking back the tears gathering at your waterline. You can save them until you leave the villa, at least ā long enough that Carlos wonāt see you cry over him, over everything you thought you had before you let the rug get pulled out from under you yet again.Ā
And then your phone buzzes in your lap.Ā
You unlock it with shaking fingers, eyes scanning over the text. āBut now you have a choice,ā you read out loud, voice low and overly controlled. āYou can either leave the villa immediately, or the two of you can stay in the villa as a new couple.ā
You can hear the gasps, the low murmurs around you. But all you see ā the first person you look to ā is Lando.Ā
āItās up to you, okay?ā he says immediately, voice low, fingertips ghosting at your elbow. The firepit makes his skin glow golden. āWhatever you need. We can go right now.āĀ
Your eyes flick instinctively to Carlos, across the firepit. Heās not looking at you, instead staring at the decking under his feet with the level of intensity youād imagined he would save for the newest copy of Architectural Digest. Lando catches your chin with his hand, gentle, and when you turn back to him his eyes are soft. āHey. Itās not about him, yeah? Itās about what you want.ā
You shake your head once, almost imperceptible, eyes wide with panic. āI donāt know what I want, Lan.ā
The truth is, you never thought youād be here. Youād been so sure you were coming back to something steady. To something real. To someone who was waiting for you, too. Not to a beautiful blonde ambush and a man who canāt meet your eyes.
āOkay,ā Lando says patiently, thumb grazing your jaw like heās trying his hardest to keep you anchored into the moment, out of your rapidly spiraling thoughts. āOkay. Market analytics, then. What do you not want?ā
The question catches you off guard, words tumbling out before you can stop them. āI donāt want to go like this,ā you whisper. āI donāt ā I dunno, I donāt want him to think heās won.ā
Something flickers across Landoās face. At first you think itās anger, a flash of heat across his boyish features at the idea that both of you have been cast aside like nothing, like losers. But when you look closer, itās something else entirely. Pride, maybe. Or recognition. Like he sees the fight in you because it lives in him too.
And then he smiles.Ā
āGood,ā he says, throwing an arm around your shoulders. āBecause I didnāt really fancy the idea of going home just yet.ā His eyes are cold as he stares across the fire. āWeāre staying. Think weāve both got some unfinished business here, donāt we?ā
Thereās not much anyone can say after that.Ā
The second the ceremony ends, you bolt from the firepit ā not knowing quite where youāre going, just trying to make it to the dressing room closets or the shower stalls or anywhere that has four walls and zero cameras so you can let out the tears that have been threatening to fall for the past hour.
Youāre only halfway across the lawn when you hear it, that determined tone that you once found endearing and now makes your stomach twist with panic: āCariƱo, wait.āĀ
Your body tenses, heart hammering against your ribs as you keep moving. āPlease,ā Carlos says, and heās right behind you now. You silently curse the fact that you chose to wear stilettos; if you werenāt sinking into the lawn with every step, maybe you could have avoided this confrontation. āCan we talk?ā
You would rather suck on Charlesā musty water bottle straw, actually. āCarlos, I āā you start, but he already has his hand on your elbow, spinning you to face him. Heās giving you the look that used to melt you, head tilted just so, softness in those big brown eyes like he hasnāt just stomped over your heart on national television.
āJust five minutes,ā he says, voice low. āDonāt I deserve five minutes?ā
You freeze, words cutting through you like a knife. Heās acting like you owe him something, like even after the humiliation ritual youāve been through tonight, somehow youāre the one being unreasonable. Youād thought youād gotten used to the weight of a million eyes on you, but youāve never felt so small as you do right now under his gaze.
āEverything alright here?ā Your head snaps to your left to see Lando approaching. His demeanor looks calm, but you catch his eyes scanning over the scene with sharp focus, taking in Carlosā hand on your arm and your eyes, glassy with unshed tears.
āWeāre fine,ā Carlos snaps, and you blink in surprise at the shift in his tone ā clipped and defensive, nothing like the easy banter youāre used to hearing between them. āPrivate conversation.āĀ
Lando raises an eyebrow, stepping closer to you, and you pull your arm out of Carlosā grasp. āNot very private, mate,ā he says coolly. āSince youāre doing it in front of the whole villa.ā
Your gaze flicks between them, realization dawning. Whatever happened at Casa changed something, their fast friendship curdling into something bitter and unresolved.Ā
āThis is between me and her,ā Carlos says, hand slicing through the air like heās swatting away a particularly unpleasant gnat. āItās not your business, cabrón.ā
āFunny thing about that,ā Lando replies, positioning himself cleanly between the two of you, close enough that you can feel his presence like a shield. āWhen the girl Iām coupled up with clearly doesnāt want to talk to you and is trying to get away from you, it becomes my business.ā
Carlosā jaw tightens, hands clenching at his sides. āSheās a big girl. She can speak for herself.ā
āI donāt want to talk to you,ā you blurt, surprising yourself with how fast the words come out.Ā
He opens his mouth to reply, but Lando pipes up first, voice dangerously calm. āThere you go. So hereās whatās going to happen now. Youāre going to respect her decision not to have this conversation. And if you canāt do that, if you keep pushing when sheās clearly upset, then sheās going to go inside and us two are going to have a very different talk.ā He smiles flatly, something final in it. āAre we clear?ā
Carlos stares at the two of you for a long moment, eyes flashing, and you can see the moment he realizes heās not winning this battle, not if itās two-on-one. āFine,ā he spits, turning on his heel and marching back towards the firepit, posture rigid with frustration.
The second he stalks away, your lungs start working again, and you let out a shaky exhale. Itās like the whole villa was holding its breath along with you; you can hear the buzz of conversation around you kicking back up, islanders meandering across the grass again like someone hit a restart button on the night. Lando turns to you, all the fight draining from his expression in an instant. āYou alright?ā he says gently. āWant me to get Lily?ā
You nod in response to his first question, even though youāre not sure itās true. āJust want to go to sleep, honestly,ā you manage. Youāre not so selfish as to interrupt your friendās happy reunion, even if your own evening has turned into a complete nightmare.
He glances over towards the rest of the islanders, then back to you. āGo,ā he says, voice soft. āIāll hold everyone off for a bit.ā
Fifteen minutes later, youāre standing in the bedroom in your pajamas, staring at the beds like they might gain sentience and rearrange themselves out of pity. The producers, clearly hoping for some drama, have sandwiched the two of you directly between Carlos and Emma on your left and Georgia and Jack on your right.Ā
Theyāre all smiles as they filter into the room, no regard for the emotional chaos theyāre creating as they giggle and flirt in voices that arenāt nearly hushed enough. You, on the other hand, are staring pointedly at the ceiling and calculating the odds of the universe taking mercy on you and striking you down with a lightning bolt.
Lando comes back into the bedroom dead last, hair damp from the shower. You watch as he comes closer, wait for the flicker of pain that crosses his face when he realizes the situation, but it doesnāt come. He just keeps his head down, taking his glasses off and neatly folding them on the nightstand before he clambers in next to you, like a bizarre sort of sleepover.
The lights snap off, and he promptly pulls the duvet up and over both your heads, cocooning the two of you in white cotton as he faces you with a deadpan expression. āAre we in hell right now?ā
You exhale, rolling onto your side to face him. āI was thinking the worldās worst middle seat.ā
āIām going to have to full on pterodactyl screech if I hear another bed squeaking noise in surround sound,ā he whispers faux-seriously. āOr if Carlos tries out the sexy Spanish whisper again. Like, itās not that impressive, mate. We all know how to say mi amor.ā
You laugh for real this time, sharp and surprised, tension finally loosening in your chest. You can tell heās just trying to make you feel better, but it works. You think itās the first time youāve laughed in days. At least since the boys left for Casa. āRight? Though I think Iād take cheesy Spanish over a loud kisser. I mean, Georgia, babe. Does the whole room need to hear your lips smacking?ā
Lando smiles, pleased and a little triumphant. āThere she is. Thought Iād lost you for a minute.ā
The silence stretches between the two of you for a moment. āDāyou know what the worst part is?ā you whisper, flopping onto your back. āI actually thought he was coming back for me. Slept on the daybeds the whole week. How pathetic is that?ā
āSānot pathetic.ā He shakes his head, heart-shaped mouth twisting down at the corners. āI get it. Thought Georgia and I had something, you know?ā He laughs, humorless. āIt took, what, three days? And sheās recoupled with someone taller, more muscular, less⦠well, less me, I suppose.āĀ
The defeat in his voice makes something crack white-hot and angry in your chest. āLess of a personality or a working brain, too,ā you say, vicious on his behalf, and he musters up a half-laugh. āLan, you canāt start comparing. You canāt do that to yourself.ā
āBit rich, coming from you,ā he sniffs. āSaw you sizing Emma up from the minute she walked in on Carlosā arm.ā
Landoās voice is hard. āClearly neither of us did.ā
You glance over at him. āWhat do you mean?ā
He sighs, tongue poking against the side of his mouth. āAfter seeing him at Casa, I think you mightāve dodged a bullet.ā He pauses, shifts on the mattress like he canāt physically sit with the information heās holding back. āHe kept talking like he could explore and didnāt have to worry, because he knew youād be waiting. Got in a bit of a row with him about it, actually.ā
You picture them on the lawn, the coldness in Carlosā eyes, the barely concealed disdain on Landoās face, and the puzzle pieces click into place. Heād stood up for you. Even when he didnāt have to, even when you werenāt there to hear it, even if it meant heād lose Carlos.
āThank you,ā you whisper, voice choked with emotion. āFor everything. Seriously.ā
His gaze softens, and he pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping around you. Maybe itās the emotional exhaustion, or the strange intimacy of being the only two people in the world who understand each otherās situation right now, but you can feel yourself relax for the first time in days. āAlways,ā he says, words muffled against your hair. āWhat are friends for?ā
āIām glad itās you,ā you mumble. Heās warm and solid and steady beneath you, and despite the heartbreak and the humiliation and the hundreds of cameras probably pointed at you right now, you know youāre safe. āReally. Think Iād be losing it if it were anyone else here right now.ā
His arms tighten around you just slightly as your eyes drift shut. āMe too,ā he says, voice softer than youāve ever heard it. The last thing you think as you sink into sleep is that neither of you are okay yet, not by a long shot.Ā
So, baby bread is not a baby anymore hehe and I am almost combusting because of this. I mean, look at this photo šš»
Things youād do to Jeonginās muscles (and heād let you even though he would blush after):
Using his arm as a support while getting a vaccine:
Youāre terrified of needles (if you're not, just pretend you are), you canāt even look when the nurse comes near. So Jeongin flexes his bicep and tells you, āHere. Hold onā. His voice is gentle, and when you grab his arm like a stress ball, you realize just how solid he is under your fingers. You donāt even notice the shotā youāre too busy thinking about how warm and firm his muscle feels. But when the nurse chuckles and says, āWow, solidā, and you go red, he clears his throat and looks away.
āDonāt say thatā, he mutters, āYouāll make her start thinking inappropriate thingsā
Ā Watching him open a jar just because you ācanātā:
You hand him a tightly sealed jar and pout dramatically, āInnieeee, itās stuckā
He sighs, takes it, and cracks it open in one go, āEasyā
But youāre not even listening, youāre watching his forearms tense, veins rising under his skin.And of course he notices.āYou definitely couldāve opened that yourselfā, he accuses.
You grin, āMaybe. But whereās the fun in that?ā
He smirks, then licks his lips, āYou want the milk carton too?ā
You nod innocently. He does it, muttering, āYouāre such a pervā
Using him as a mattress after a long day:
You crawl into bed, already exhausted. Jeongin follows you, wraps an arm around your waist, and before you can even think about it, you roll onto him and sprawl across his chest and arms like youāre marking territory.
āComfortable?ā he asks, voice muffled.
"You feel like a muscle mattressā you mumble.
He bites his lip to keep from smiling too big, āYouāre⦠heavyā
āRudeā
He laughs but shifts under you, letting you settle deeper into the warmth of his arms and chest.
Youāve never felt safer. You fall asleep in five minutes. And he never moves, even when his arm goes numb under you, absolutely refusing to disturb you.
Ā Making him flex while heās on top:
Things get heatedā shirts already off, his arms caging you in, and you whisper, āFlex for meā
He freezes. āWhat?ā
āYour arms. Pleaseā
He groans, drops his head to your neck, and says, āYouāre so weirdā
But he does it anyway.Ā
"Like this?ā, he teases, lips brushing your ear
You whimper. And when you run your hands down his arms, squeezing his biceps while he moves above youā he realizes youāre shaking.
"Youāre into this way more than I thoughtā, he whispers, āGuess I shouldāve done this soonerā
Letting you count his abs when youāre bored:
Youāre lying in bed, staring at him. Heās scrolling on his phone, covered by a blanket. You suddenly sit up.
āTake it offā
He looks up,āExcuse me?ā
"Your shirt. I wanna count your absā, he bursts out laughing but ends up lifting it anyway.
You gently run your fingers down each ridge,Ā āOne⦠two⦠threeā¦ā
He whispers, āI can flex harderā
āDonāt cheat. Iām making researchā
"Youāre ridiculousā
Still, he lets you finish.
ā§Ė*°ąæ
Things Jeongin would do with his muscles just to tease you (and he'd claim it is just an "accident")
He works out shirtless only when youāre home:
The second you walk in, he just happens to be mid pull up, dripping sweat, abs flexed with every breath, claimingĀ itās ātoo hotā
āOh, heyā, he says casually, breathless, āDidnāt hear you come inā
Then does one more setā with extra grunts.
He pulls your hand under this shirt, then makes you feel his abs:
You're cuddling, then his hand grabs yours, guiding it under his shirt.
"Feel that?ā, he whispers, cocky, āBeen working outā
Like you hadnāt already noticed.Ā
He flexes, just to make you gasp, then kisses your neck.
You can only roll your eyes and enjoy the warmth
Lifts you up when youāre in the way:
Youāre standing in front of the kitchen drawers, searching for a spoon. He wants something behind you.
You think heāll wait. Maybe ask you to move.
Nope.
Two strong arms suddenly wrap around your waist, and the next thing you knowāĀ your feet leave the ground.
āJeongin!ā
He just hums, sets you on the counter like itās nothing, then grabs the cereal box he wanted, āThere. Solvedā
You blink at him, āYou couldāve just askedā
He smiles, āBut then I wouldnāt get to touch you like thatā
Fuck you after gym without even showering first:
Sweaty, pumped, still in his gym clothes. You barely say hello before he pins you to the nearest wall and mumbles
"Missed you so muchā
His arms? Slick, bulging, still flexing from that last set. You can barely think. He sees your dazed face and smirks.
"What?ā, he whispers, āYou gonna cum just from how my arms feel?ā
And you doā embarrassingly fast
Who do you want next? š I'm probably going to do Hyunjin so after Hyunjin š¤
If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated š
warnings: established relationship, beach date w boyfie bin <3, reader is lowkey uneasy abt the water, aloe massage, morning sex, dry humping, slight pain kink
a/n: based entirely on this tweet and then i ran with everything else. happy 2 years to this account, hereās a present from me to u. i hope u enjoy, reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)
if you move slowly, maybe itāll go away. stare it in the eyes, black and beady and menacing as they are, you hold your ground because thereās no way youāre losing your sandwich today. not when the fluffy white bread bears your fingerprints from being squished down to crush the chips you put underneath it. youāre not in the mood to chase a seagull down the beach with your flip flop waving in the air.Ā
youāre trying to relax. thatās the point of your little weekend getaway anyways.Ā
your eyes are starting to dry out by the time you hear feet trudging through the sand. changbin accidentally kicks it onto your towel when he reaches you, breathing heavily and eclipsing the sun from your view.Ā
āwhat are you looking a- ack!ā flapping wings, a peckish beak. changbin flinches and ducks, covers his head with his arms and plonks underneath the umbrella just as the seagull finally leaves you be, flying off to bother other beach dwellers and their less-tasty sandwiches. he looks you in the eyes and shakes his head. his hairās wet, curling up at the ends into pretty, black spikes. salt water drips down his round face. āthat thing was going to carry me away!āĀ
āmm,ā you hum with a shake of your own head. a bite to your sandwich, the crushed corner of an orange dorito slips from the crust and hits your thigh, ham gets stuck to the roof of your mouth as you chew. āno way, i would come save you.āĀ
changbin wipes the corner of your lips with his thumb. he trills something happy and high in his throat, wiggles his broad shoulders. āmy hero!āĀ
you pull the sandwiches you packed for him out of your cooler and changbin cracks open your drink. he passes it to you once heās done, but not before taking a quick sip for himself.Ā
lunch is better on the beach. changbinās knee presses against yours, and you never want to leave.Ā
changbin insists on waiting thirty minutes before going back to play in the water. itās a good time to reapply his sunscreen ā any sunburn he gets turns into such a beautiful tan afterwards, soft skin caramel warm and honey dipped, but he doesnāt like to get burned, always diligently applying it himself when he feels his shoulders getting hot. he takes a swig of his own drink, tips his head back to finish the can. a sticky trail of salt water slips down his chin, his adamās apple. your eyes track it all the way to his collarbones, still dazed by his beauty when he stands and stretches after finishing his drink. he reaches for the spray this time, takes a deep breath and holds it while he sprays sporadically around his chest and legs.Ā
ācome here, let me rub it in. youāre gonna be all⦠squiggly.ā you can see it now, sunny pink splotches swirling around the areas changbin haphazardly sprayed like a bowl of spaghetti noodles. he kneels before you then, puffs his chest and squares his shoulders and preens at the first touch of your cool hands to his chest. his skin is so warm. how can he be the most perfect mixture of both firm and soft under your greedy hands? the spray is oily and slick when you touch him, his skin shines with it, marblesque, doused in pure gold.Ā
ādonāt touch me there~ā he teases when your hands trails over his pecs. his nipples are sensitive ā if you kept it up, his knees would start wobbling. his stomach comes next. you stick your finger in his belly button and he shouts. changbin gets squirmy when your hands find his sides. heās squeezable there, but your hands are too slippery to get a good grip. āyah. yah, stop- fondling me!āĀ
you indulgently roll your eyes at the tone of his raised voice, and he shouts again when you smack him jokingly on the flank.Ā
āyou like being fondled, donāt even lie like that. okay, turn around. want me to get your back?āĀ
āplease. thank you,ā changbin says. he turns around and plops onto his butt in front of you. you stretch your legs out on either side of him then. your hands are so slippery that the bottle of sunscreen nearly slips from your hands, but you manage to spray another heap onto your oily palms before it drops to the towel underneath you. changbinās back is just as warm as his front, just as broad, just as beautiful, with muscles swimming and flexing when he moves. youāll have to hurry on this one. changbin gets sleepy whenever you rub his back, and his bodyās already swaying slightly with the motion of your hands.Ā
āalright big guy,ā you coo, and changbinās responding hum lilts up in question at the end. heās tired already, hours under the sun will do thatĀ ā heās going to sleep so hard tonight. āgive it a minute and then you can go swim, honey.āĀ
changbin shakes his head wildly to wake himself up, salt water flying every which way as he does. you cover your eyes with a squeal, and when your boyfriend stands up and turns to face you, heās grinning.Ā
ācome with me!ā youād acquiesce even if he wasnāt whining cutely at you. youāre wrapped around his finger as it is, but you donāt always have to make it so obvious. ācome play with me.ā
he helps you stand up, warm, calloused palms embracing yours. changbin watches you do your own thing before you step onto the sand with him, the not-so-subtle, appreciative up and down of his eyes doesnāt go unnoticed either.Ā
the sand is soft under your feet but gets harder the closer you get to the water. you pause at the line of the sea, watching the waves peter out until theyāre rippling under your toes and pulling the sand with it. changbinās only a few steps ahead of you, but he stops when he realizes youāre not right behind him. he pauses then, turns around and holds his hand out to you so that you can take hold of it when youāre ready. he guides you into the water when you take it; itās always so much colder than you expect it to be despite the bright sunlight above. you already know the only way to warm up to it is to go deeper.Ā
āi donāt want to go too far,ā you say. water laps at your shins now. your thighs soon, your waist.Ā
āwe wonāt, i promise,ā changbin responds easily. heās already clocked the look on your face, the small pinch between your brows. you canāt see below you; you donāt know what youāll touch or what will touch you.Ā
changbin wades in front of you to block a small wave, the breadth of his back catching the brunt of it and carrying him forward slightly before it ever hits you. his arms wrap around your waist as heās moved, and now youāre no longer focusing too hard on whether a fish just bumped your leg or if it was seaweed. youāre already wrapping your legs around his hips when his hand drags down to your thigh to do it himself.Ā
itās nice like this, peaceful. changbinās sneaky hands cup under your ass to hold you tight to him. the water rocks you gently together and he kisses your head, turning his back towards an oncoming wave again and letting it carry you closer to the shore.Ā
āweāre going to get swept out to sea.ā you wonāt. youāre still a safe distance from the shore; changbin is still clearly reaching the sandy bottom. but what if?
āwe wonāt! i have really strong toes, you know?āĀ
āweāre going to get eaten by a shark.ā not a fun way to go. being swallowed by a whale doesnāt sound like too much fun either, but changbin shakes his head, insistent.Ā
āi could twirl one of those on my finger like a basketball, yeobo, they swim far away when they see me coming.āĀ
you laugh then, and changbinās face lights up like the sun.Ā
ā⦠would you pee on me if i got stung by a jellyfish?āĀ
he pinches your ass then, cackles that goofy laugh of his.Ā
āyah, i- are you crazy? is the sky blue?āĀ
changbin lets the waves carry you back to the shore soon enough. you unwrap yourself from him when you get closer to the bank. he still holds onto your hand tight, all the way until you reach your beach towels and umbrella. your book is calling your name, and a second sandwich sounds pretty good right about now too. youāre expecting changbin to plop back down next to you, but he stands in front of his towel with his hands on his hips and his gaze set on something behind you. the thud of a soccer ball in the distance tells you exactly what heās looking at, so you nudge him on the leg to get his attention.Ā
āyou wanna go?āĀ
he nods, hesitates. shifts his weight from foot to foot.Ā
āi can sit with you instead. i really want to spend time with you, gorgeous.āĀ
heās a sweetheart. gooey and soft on the inside, glitter pink and fizzy. heās been spending time with you ā youāve practically been attached at the hip for the entirety of your short vacation.Ā
āgo play! iāll be right here. i want to read for a little bit. you can spend time with me when you come back, hm?āĀ
he presses a kiss to your lips before he runs off, a goofy call of donāt leave without me! tossed behind him.Ā
youāre two chapters deep when you pause to watch him. heās so good at this; his easygoing personality and his ability to make friends with anyone are two things you love so dearly about changbin. his smile is wide, you can tell even from your spot a ways away. his new friends look younger than him, tinier in all ways. he likes to make them laugh, hits the soccer ball off of his butt with a goofy noise and gives everyone a high five.Ā
changbinās breathing heavily again when he comes back, flops right onto the damp sand in front of you to catch his breath.Ā
ādid you have fun?ā you dog ear your page and close your book to turn all of your attention to him. his cheeks are pink with exertion; thereās a tired smile on his face. changbinās fingers dig deep into the sand when he nods, gulping heavily like playing so hard has dried his mouth all out. you crack open another drink and pop a bendy straw in, grunting as your knees press hard to the towel underneath you so that you can hold the can to changbinās lips.Ā
he misses the straw once, twice, eyes locked on the gently swaying mounds of your chest now that youāre basically on your hands and knees in front of him.Ā
āpervert,ā you chuckle, and changbinās eyebrows scrunch teasingly as he takes a sip.Ā
he licks his lips when heās done and tilts his head. āhow am i a pervert? why? iām just admiring the view.ā
you level him with a look, and changbin just gives you one back. your towel is warm when you turn back around, so rest your head on your crossed arms while changbin busies himself in the sand.Ā
you donāt fall asleep, but you do doze, floating in and out of consciousness for what only feels like a few seconds and pulled out of your sleepy haze by the soft scrape of sand. your bodyās stiff when you prop up on your elbow and turn towards the noise.Ā
āoh,ā you say. changbin is elbow deep in sand, hills and ridges packed tight around the edge of the hole heās dug. thereās even little seashell windows. āoh wow, baby, good job! thatās a beautiful hole.āĀ
he smiles then. one eye is squinted because itās so bright on the beach.Ā
youād pour a bucket of water on the sun if you could just find a way up there, if only it would make it a little easier for him to see. but then youād never see him like this again. skin warm and bronzed, salt water drying on his wide shoulders, fingers and toes sandy. you have half a mind to shade your eyes. not from the sunlight, but from changbin, bright and beautiful and orbital changbin. staring straight into the light has never felt better.Ā
youāre both nearly ravenous when dinner rolls around, and changbinās eyes are half lidded by the time you finally make it back to your hotel room after some much needed seafood. you drag him to the bathroom first because you donāt want to feel specs of sand in the sheets, and you know if you let him get in bed like this, heāll fall asleep the moment he closes his eyes.Ā
ābut i already took a shower!ā he whines. changbin is staring dazedly at the pelting rain of the shower head.Ā
āokay, the shower on the beach doesnāt count! nice try. just be quick, wash up and leave the water running so i can jump in after you.āĀ
you leave him grumbling. the wet plop of his swim shorts echoes through the bathroom and underneath the closed door. the sliding glass door is just as loud, and so is the dramatic wail changbin lets out when the warm water touches his skin. you busy yourself with your suitcase while heās in the shower, pulling out a t-shirt and a clean pair of underwear, sitting primly on the corner of the bed and turning the television on.Ā
it doesnāt take him long. it takes him longer to stop fumbling with the bottle of shampoo than it does for him to actually wash his hair, and heās walking stiffly out of the bathroom with his towel draped around his shoulders in no time. he plops down onto the bed stomach-first ā it makes his plush cheek bunch up against the comforter cutely, so you pat his boxer-clad butt and head off to take your own shower, leaving changbin to rest.Ā
the slide of the shower door almost covers up changbinās yell from the other room, but heās not quick enough.Ā
āshit, wait! wait, yeobo, make sure to turn the water-āĀ
you yelp. cold water zings up your back for only a second before youāre back away from the stream, hugging yourself like thatāll preserve any warmth.Ā
āseo changbin!āĀ
āiām sorry! iām sorry, i forgot!āĀ
youāre still shivering by the time you walk out of the bathroom. you were able to turn the hot water up with minimal damage to your poor, freezing nipples, but now your hair is cooling on your back through your shirt. you want to cuddle up to changbin so he can warm you up, maybe pinch his side in retaliation for not warning you that he took a cold shower when he knew you were coming in after him, but all of your scheming flies out the window when you see him sprawled out on the bed.Ā
āi see why you took a cold shower,ā you coo. you sit gently beside his head and rest your hand on his back. heās boiling, skin red hot to the touch. āi think i packed some aloe? let me find it, bunny.āĀ
ānot a bunnyā¦ā changbin gripes. āi look like the lobster we ate at dinner.āĀ
you walk to your suitcase and rummage through it again. the aloe is in one of the zip-up pockets; itād feel better if you had pulled it out of the fridge instead, but thisāll have to do. you straddle his hips as softly as you can, untwisting the cap and squeezing some of the thick blue gel onto your palms. thankfully, itās cold enough to feel good to his sweltering skin.Ā
changbin tenses at the first touch to his back. he hisses, curls his fingers tightly where theyāre now fisted beside his damp hair. he shudders then, turns his head to press his face into the mattress like a diva. he settles relatively quickly though, your gentle touch and the coolness of the gel work wonders for the tender, red skin of his back and shoulders. thereās so much surface area on him, so many places to feel, to love and admire and worship. you would if you could ā youād knead greedy hands at his lats and kiss your way down his spine, but you have to be gentle when heās so succulent and soft underneath you, breathing heavily and body pliant against the bed.Ā
he twitches when you squeeze more gel onto your hand and smooth it down the backs of his arms. theyāre soft when theyāre not flexed, firm with muscle but covered by such plush skin.Ā
āām sticky,ā he whines. itās the quietest heās been all day, deep voice slurring and raspy with sleep.Ā
āi know.ā placating, appeasing. āiām sorry, itāll dry soon though, okay? can you- here, can you scoot up so youāre on the pillow?ā you step to the bathroom to wash your hands and put the aloe in the roomās mini fridge.Ā
itās like he uses every bit of his last remaining strength to heave himself onto the pillow just above his head. changbin smacks his lips, nuzzles his cheek into the pillow and throws an arm out to drag you closer to him when you finally get in the bed yourself. heās deadweight, his arm lays heavily across your waist, but itās a comfort more than anything. youāre just about to reach over and then off the light when changbin starts nosing at your shoulder.Ā
āyou take such good care of me,ā he breathes. his eyes are closed, short lashes brushing soft cheeks. changbinās lips pout when he talks. āyou looked so beautiful today, beautiful.ā a thick thumb brushes the waistband of your underwear. ālet me make love to you, gorgeous, changbinnie wants to take care of you now.āĀ
sweet boy. lovely, darling, sleepy boy.Ā
your body canāt help but react to him. it always does, his voice is but a sirenās song that youāre helpless to follow. if his fingers were to dip any lower, heād find you slicking up and waiting for him. youāre arching into his touch already, but his arm has gone heavy on top of you again with his fingers snuck underneath the band of your cotton panties.Ā
your laugh huffs out of you then, something soft and fond. a slow turn of your head finds changbin out like a light, eyes fluttering under his lids and warm breath fanning onto your arm from his round nose.Ā
changbin grunts when you lean over to turn off the light, stocky fingers twitching where theyāre caught under the band of your panties. you donāt move them ā he can do that himself later, so you place your hand on top of his arm and curl closer to his chest, hoping to meet him in his dreams.Ā
youāre sweating when you wake up. your shirt has ridden halfway up your midsection, and youāre kept in place by changbinās weight. his face is smushed into your armpit, his arm still thrown over your stomach and wrapping around your back. the pop of your elbows and the smack of your lips must pull him right out of slumber with you ā his groan tickles your armpit, and you give him your own groan when he tightens his arm around you and pulls you in tight.Ā
āyābong,ā his voice is muffled by your shirt. you wrap your arms around his head so he can bury his face in your chest. āmmmsleepy.āĀ
changbin tangles his legs with yours, breathes something deep and content between the valley of your breasts. the warmth of his bare skin seeps through the thin cotton of your t-shirt. you can feel the backs of your knees sweating ā changbin is warm with sleep and equally warm from his sunburn, a thick, plush, pink little furnace wrapped up right in your arms.Ā
heās hard. you can feel the short length of his cock pressing hot to your thigh through his boxers. you nudge your leg up, and changbinās chest rumbles something deep and low.Ā
two can play that game ā changbinās neck rolls, he nuzzles his face into your tits and sneaks a hand from around your back to between your legs. he doesnāt make it under your panties but touches you over them instead, three thick fingers rubbing softly at the seam of your cunt and feeling for your clit. youāre not wet enough yet; the press of cotton feels like a shock to that sensitive little place. it makes your body roll, makes your hips shudder and your fingers curl into his hair. your cunt slicks up the more he touches you. youāre so sure he can feel it through the clinging fabric now, how you leak for him. you can feel his ā leaking right from the tip of his fat cock, seeping through the front of his boxers to keep you company.Ā
changbin takes his hand away to smooth it over your ass, and it almost makes you tear up. he lifts his head and kisses the pitiful pout from your lips.Ā
ālike this,ā he breathes. āi want to fuck you like this.āĀ
youāre coddled this way; you both are, wrapped up in each other so tightly that thereās hardly any room between you. that just makes the first rut of his clothed cock to your wet panties lick fire down your spine. you toss your leg over his waist and angle your hips so you can grind against him too.Ā
ābin. yeah. yeah, fuck.āĀ
your voice is thick with sleep, with spit. the slow beat of his clothed cock against your pussy is so good, his tip prods at your clit and makes you quake. you crane your neck for a kiss that changbin meets eagerly. itās warm, lazy, sour with sleep, and his moan is strained when you lap it up with your tongue. thereās something akin to anticipation burning deep in your gut, burning alongside something fizzy and tight.Ā
the hum of the air conditioner cuts through the sounds of sex. your heavy breathing, the rustle of the sheets. changbinās fingernails dig under the leg of your panties to squeeze your ass. heās almost bouncing you like that ā heās strong enough to aid in the quickening rock of your hips, easing you against his hardness.Ā
ādoes that feel good, sweetheart?ā he asks, hot and low against your neck. you canāt answer, but you try, a pitiful, keening mmm! leaving your slick lips. āyou sound so good, you sound so fucking beautiful.āĀ
this might be the best thing youāve ever felt. itās different from the blinding pleasure of his cock carving you out, but itās good in its own way, the drag of his cock across cotton, the feeling of his arms around you, his voice in your ear. how can he sound so composed just minutes after waking up beside you? buttering you up, sweet talking you like youāre not already in bed with him. itās something he just knows, you reckon, exactly what you need even when you donāt know it yourself.Ā
his eyes are on you. his face is puffy, thereās crust in the corner of one almond shaped eye. you slide your hand down to his face to wipe it away and spend the rest of your time cupping his cheek while he watches you.Ā
āām gonna cum,ā you say, and changbin nods, his forehead nudges yours.Ā
āyeah, fuck, please. yeah, let me make you cum.āĀ
itās slow, building right up from the tips of your toes and swimming its way up your desperate body. changbin rolls his hips, wet fabric and a hard cock nudging just where you need it, and you cum with a feeble cry, clit pulsing quickly in your messy panties as changbin makes you cum just like he said.Ā
itās so good that you donāt know what to do with yourself. a shaky hand leaves his cheek and smacks against his reddened shoulder, clutching tight to his tender skin to ground yourself while you shake apart. it isnāt until changbin cries out that you realize what you just did.Ā
āsorry!ā you say, frantic. ābaby, baby i didnāt mea-ā
he cuts you off with another cry, something crazed and wild, pitching high in his throat and tumbling into a wet gasp. you canāt feel his cum just yet, but you feel him, shivering and jolting in the cradle of your arms until it ultimately makes him go completely lax.Ā
thereās nothing better than this. changbin is so soft and sweet, his calloused hand rubs your back underneath your t-shirt. youāll cat nap for a while. changbinās breath is already evening out again in your ear.Ā
ten minutes. twenty. thirty maybe, then youāll get up and grab the aloe out of the fridge.Ā
stray kids ot8 x reader | this is how they fallāsoft, slow, and all at once.
š synopsis: love doesnāt always arrive loudly. sometimes it slips in through laughter, late-night ramen, bookstore rambles, or the way your eyes crinkle when youāre proud of them. this is the moment it hits them. the heartbeat theyāll never forget. the thought they canāt shake. the shift from āi like herā to āoh. iām hers.ā get ready for bashful glances, overthought texts, unsent voice notes, and loyalty so deep it stings. this isnāt just a headcanon set. itās a love letter. from them, to you.
š a/n: welcome to another sunday softdrops. hello to everyone whoās ever accidentally fallen in love with someone who tied their hoodie wrong or smiled weird during ramen. this is for you. this is cinema. this is spiritual collapse. this is accidentally locking eyes while brushing your teeth and now heās pacing the hallway writing poetry in his notes app.
p.s. reblog = kisses and love
p.p.s. hydrate. wear something soft. never settle for a love that doesnāt look at you like Hyunjin looks at sun-warm skin and unscripted laughter
p.p.p.s. drop a member + a soft scenario in my inbox and Iāll write it. no shame. no brakes. letās emotionally disintegrate together š
šcredits: @cafekitsune for the dividers
š§ Ā» Love Again ā Baekhyun Ā«
0:58 āćāāāāā 3:16
ā āā ā ā ā¹ā¹ ā»
š The moment it hits him:
Youāre sitting on the studio floor, legs criss-crossed in that hoodie you always steal, eating spicy ramen with your hair a mess, humming quietly to the instrumental he left looping. Itās nothing fancy. No makeup. No posing. Just you, glowing under the dim studio light. You look up and smileāmouth full, eyes bright, like heās your favourite person in the world.
His heart stutters.
His breath catches.
And then: stillness.
šļø Inner thought:
āOh. Shit. Iām gone. Iām in love. Thereās no coming back from this.ā
š How he acts right after:
Absolute silence. Like, full system shutdown. He suddenly āneeds to focusā on the track, spins his chair around, fidgets with literally anything. He can't stop glancing at you in the reflection of the monitor, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling like a schoolboy.
You: āWhatās wrong?ā
Chan: āNothing.ā
Also Chan: writes 6 love songs in one night and names the folder āidk.ā
š« How he is in love:
Gentle. So, so gentle it aches. He pays attention to every detailāyour snack habits, your late-night mood swings, the way your lip curls when youāre overthinking. He worries constantly. Holds you like you're something delicate and divine. He serves you, literally and emotionally.
š Love language:
ā Acts of service ā makes you playlists, folds your laundry, rubs your feet at 3am.
ā Physical touch ā forehead kisses, waist holds, late-night cuddle traps.
ā Reassurance ā always reminding you: āIāve got you. No matter what.ā
Lee Know // ė¦¬ė ø
š The moment it hits him:
Youāre napping on his couch, curled up in a pile of his cats and blankets. There's drool on your cheek. One slipperās fallen off. Your handās loosely tangled in Soonieās fur. And for some reason, when he walks in and sees thatāthat chaotic little mess of softness in his spaceāhis chest tightens. He stands there, completely still. And just breathes. Like if he moves, the realization will hit too hard.
šļø Inner thought:
ā...Damn it. This is love, isnāt it?ā
š How he acts right after:
Unbotheredā¢. But thatās a lie. He acts the exact same on the outsideādry, sarcastic, lightly roasting you every five minutes. But now, when he calls you annoying, thereās a softness to it. He lets you steal his hoodies without comment. He cuts the crusts off your toast even though he always said that was āa waste.ā And when he tucks the blanket tighter around you, he doesnāt say a word. But his hands linger.
š« How he is in love:
He loves quietly. Intensely. Like itās sacred. He watches you more than he talks, memorizes your habits like heās preparing for a test. He wonāt say āI love youā oftenābut the second someone else hurts you, heās the first to stand up, fists clenched. His loyalty is undeniable.
š Love language:
ā Quality time ā he wants you in the room, always. even if you're doing nothing.
ā Acts of service ā small, exacting things. he'll fix your charger, refill your water, remember your favourite side dishes.
ā Words of affirmation ā but only at 3am. in the dark. when you're half asleep and he thinks you wonāt remember.
Changbin // ģ°½ė¹
š The moment it hits him:
Youāre hyping him up after a recording session, arms flailing, voice full of chaotic praise like, āYOUāRE A GENIUS, SEO CHANGBIN. ACTUAL GOD-TIER. GRAMMY WHEN?ā He laughs so hard he snorts. Then you toss your phone at him to queue your shared playlist, already scrolling to the song labelled āfor binnie only šā like itās just a normal thing to do.
And he just⦠pauses. Heart pounding. Smile fading into something softer. Because itās not just a crush anymore. Youāve carved a home in his chest and didnāt even ask for rent.
šļø Inner thought:
āHoly shit. She sees me. Like, all of me. And still wants to stay?ā
š How he acts right after:
He becomes a walking compliment generator.
You breathe? āYouāre so cool.ā
You trip on air? āEven gravity loves you.ā
You touch his arm for 0.5 seconds? malfunction noises
He works out harder. Writes more. Smiles more. But also starts sending dramatic voice notes at midnight like,
āHey um⦠not to be weird but like⦠your existence inspires me?? okay bye.ā [hangs up instantly]
š« How he is in love:
Overflowing. He feels big, and he loves bigger. He shows up. Every time. Front row in life for you. Loudest hype man, softest cuddle bear, always checking in even if you donāt ask. His love is protective, silly, and deeply rooted in loyaltyāhe doesnāt fall often, but when he does? He dives.
š Love language:
ā Words of affirmation ā compliments on compliments on compliments.
ā Physical touch ā bear hugs, back hugs, lap cuddles, full weight of his love on your body 24/7.
ā Gift giving ā protein bars, playlists, random trinkets that āreminded me of you, donāt ask why.ā
Hyunjin // ķģ§
š The moment it hits him:
Youāre sitting in the sun, surrounded by your own little chaosāopen books, headphones half-falling out, doodles all over the margins, an untouched coffee gone cold beside you. And youāre smiling to yourself. Youāre not looking at him. Not even aware heās watching.
And for the first time, he doesnāt reach for his phone to take a photo. He just⦠stares. Because this moment is his, and his alone.
And he realizes, with a soft kind of devastation,
āIām already hers.ā
šļø Inner thought:
āSheās a poem. A prayer. A painting I want to memorize in my sleep.ā
š How he acts right after:
Absolutely spirals. Draws your side profile 12 times and ruins 11 because āthey donāt capture it right.ā Starts journaling in half-English-half-messy-sketches. Tells Felix about it and then gets mad when Felix smiles knowingly. He gets so quiet around you for a few daysānot cold, just reverent. Like heās scared to touch the moment too hard in case it disappears.
š« How he is in love:
Soft and dramatic at the same time. He holds your hand like itās precious, but he also tells the moon about you like you're his eternal muse. Cries at the idea of your future together. Panics if you donāt text back in 20 minutes. Wants to show you the world, but more than thatāhe wants you to feel safe in his world.
š Love language:
ā Quality time ā long walks. gallery dates. sitting in silence and feeling it.
ā Words of affirmation ā whispered. written. cried into your hair at 2AM.
ā Gift giving ā his hoodie. his poetry. flowers that āreminded me of youā and are never store-bought.
Han // ķ
š The moment it hits him:
Youāre laughing so hard you almost choke on your boba. You try to tell a story but youāre wheezing between every word, face red, tears in your eyes, and instead of helpingāhe just starts laughing with you. Like really laughing. Loud. Unfiltered. Giddy. And then your hand brushes his and you donāt move it. Neither does he. He freezes mid-laugh and goes silent. Heart racing. Staring at your hand like itās a bomb and he forgot the detonation code.
šļø Inner thought:
āOh. No. Nope. Not allowed. Too much. Too fast. TOOāoh god I like her.ā
š How he acts right after:
š§āāļøā him trying to walk normally while his brain is buffering
Goes from āhaha bestie š¤Ŗā to āDO NOT PERCEIVE MEā in 0.3 seconds. Canāt look you in the eye. Drops everything heās holding for a full week. Randomly sends memes at 2am like āHAHA this reminded me of nothing in particular byeā Starts writing lyrics with your initials in them and then panics and changes them to random letters.
š« How he is in love:
Unhinged. Loyal. So soft he doesnāt know what to do with himself.
Tells you dumb jokes because he wants to be the reason you smile.
Acts like heās chill about everything but will lose sleep over whether you liked the playlist he made you. Heās all heart, no brakes. The type to say āIām not obsessed or anythingā and then write your name 73 times in a private doc called āDO NOT OPEN IāM NORMAL.ā
š Love language:
ā Words of affirmation ā āyouāre amazingā 24/7. calls you pretty when you sneeze.
ā Physical touch ā clings to you like a koala when sleepy. arms around your waist while cooking. forehead touches when heās overwhelmed.
ā Gifts ā voice memos. notebooks full of scribbles. late-night snacks labelled āeat this or I cry.ā
Felix // ķė¦ģ¤
š The moment it hits him:
Youāre struggling with somethingāfrustrated, eyes glassy, breath shallow. You try to smile through it, but he sees the crack in your voice. And instead of saying anything, you just... reach for him. Wordlessly. Trustingly. Like heās your calm in the storm. And he holds you. No questions. No āwhatās wrong?ā And thatās when it clicks. You see him as your safe place. And now? He never wants to be anything else.
šļø Inner thought:
āIād burn the whole world down just to keep her soft.ā
š How he acts right after:
SO SOFT. SO SHY. SO PANICKED. Starts checking in more oftenā"did you eat?" / "how are you feeling?" / "i saw a cloud and thought of you." Smiles at you like youāre made of glitter and stardust. He hugs longer. Texts sweeter. Starts journaling without realizing it. Cries at random songs because they "sound like you."
š« How he is in love:
Loyal like a golden retriever. Protective like a knight. Gentle like warm tea in your hands. He wants to giveāhis time, his hoodie, the last bite, his full attention. He doesnāt love halfway. He pours. Will randomly whisper, āI love you,ā mid-snack or during a grocery run. Just because.
š Love language:
ā Physical touch ā hand-holding, pinky linking, long cuddles with your head on his chest where he can kiss your hair over and over
ā Words of affirmation ā āyouāre doing great,ā āyouāre beautiful always,ā āyou make me proud just by being youā
ā Gift giving ā handmade bracelets, playlists with titles like āsunshine for my sunshine,ā carefully wrapped little things he ājust saw and thought of youā
Seungmin // ģ¹ėƼ
š The moment it hits him:
Youāre arguing. Not seriously, just bantering over which ramen flavor is superior. Youāre passionate, dramatic, refusing to back down. He rolls his eyes, calls you a menace. But thenā
You crinkle your nose at him. That same look you always give him. That smug little grin. And for no reason at all, his brain just short-circuits. Because suddenly, he realizes he never wants to argue with anyone else ever again.
šļø Inner thought:
āOh god. Sheās my person. Sheās IT. Thatās⦠thatās terrifying.ā
š How he acts right after:
Unchanged. Suspiciously unchanged. Keeps up the banter, calls you annoying, pretends like his heart didnāt just fall out of his chest. But he starts doing the quiet thingsācarrying your water bottle without asking, remembering exactly how you like your eggs, glancing at you when you laugh like itās the last time heāll get to hear it.
š« How he is in love:
He doesnāt say it oftenābut he shows it in every micro-moment. He teases because heās comfortable. He remembers everything you say. Stays up just to walk you home. Buys you medicine before you realize youāre sick. He doesnāt ask for muchāhe just wants to be the reason you feel steady.
š Love language:
ā Acts of service ā does everything quietly. recharges your headphones. clears your plate. fixes your tech.
ā Quality time ā invites you to sit with him while he works. listens when you ramble about nothing.
ā Words of affirmation (low volume) ā slips in compliments when you least expect it:
āyouāre really smart, you know.ā
āi like when you talk like that.ā
āiām proud of you⦠just donāt make it weird.ā
I.n // ģģ“ģ
š The moment it hits him:
Youāre dragging him through a bookstore, rambling about your favourite genre, talking a mile a minute. Heās not even following half of itāheās too busy watching the way your eyes light up when you speak, the way your hands move when youāre excited. You stop mid-sentence, look back at him, and go:
āWhat? Youāre staring.ā
And he stammers some excuseābut the truth is, he just realized he wants to follow you around like that forever.
šļø Inner thought:
āOh. Oh no. Iām in love. Iām so done for. What do I do. WHAT DO I DOāā
š How he acts right after:
Absolutely panics internally. Externally? Tries to act cool. Cue awkward jokes. Random distance. More awkward jokes. Starts doing little things for you but blaming them on coincidence.
āOh you forgot your charger? Weird that I brought an extra one for no reason.ā
āI totally wasnāt waiting here for you to show up. I just⦠happened to be standing exactly where you are now.ā
š« How he is in love:
He glows. Around you, because of you, for you. Gets bolder in burstsāsends texts like āI missed your voice today.ā Wants to impress you but also wants to be vulnerable. He tries so hard not to mess it up. But love softens him, makes him gentle, open, kind in a way thatās deeply intentional. Every time you smile at him, he falls harder.
š Love language:
ā Gift giving ā tiny, random trinkets. receipts with hearts. keychains. snacks he saw and thought āthis is so her.ā
ā Quality time ā slow walks, late calls, staying on FaceTime even if youāre both doing other things.
ā Physical touch ā hesitant at first, then clingy. loves resting his head on your shoulder or getting forehead kisses like heās your baby bird.
Tattoo Artist!Han Jisung x Reader | blah blah blah
šsynopsis: Tattoo Artist AU. You just wanted a tattoo. What you got was a cocky artist with a praise kink, a filthy mouth, and the ability to make you cum so hard you forget your name. What starts as innocent skin-on-skin becomes texts at 3AM, breathless calls, panties on the floor, and getting ruined over a tattoo chair by a man who calls his dick āemotionally supportive.ā
ša/n: HELLO DEMONS. welcome back to my sin bin. and YES. i spun the wheel of filth⢠again because i have too many prompts, too many requests, too many ideas and i am ONE feral braincell away from combusting. this weekās winner of the roulette: jisung x reader, tattoo shop edition. hence why this was posted late ā i had no idea what to write and then accidentally birthed a full plotline, two orgasms, a man with separation anxiety, and the best dick of your fictional life. oops š
p.s. reblog this or i will haunt your mirrors at 3AM whispering ādumb little slutā in hanās voice.
p.p.s. if you message me your fave skz member, i might drop you a mini filthy tattoo artist!AU ficlet just for them. no promises. only threats.
p.p.p.s. light a candle. hydrate. send this to a friend
The sky is bruising purple with evening haze. Youāre standing outside a tattoo parlour in a tucked-away alleyāNO SAINT INKārecommended by a friend who said, āGo there. Ask for Han.ā
Youāre nervous. Not just because itās your first tattooābut because your stomach wonāt stop twisting with that type of anticipation. The kind you feel when you know something irreversible is about to happen.
The parlour looks nothing like the industrial, hyper-masculine shops you've passed before. Itās dark, yesābut with soft underlighting. Neon signs buzz low in the windows, one glowing "SINNER'S HANDS" in deep red. Another in cursive:
āwe only leave beautiful scars.ā
You push the door open, bell jingling. It smells like antiseptic and incense. Lo-fi hip hop pulses from hidden speakers. The walls are matte black, scattered with flash artāsome delicate, some obscene. A few erotic, one absolutely feral. You step toward the deskā
And then you see him.
Han Jisung.
Slouched in a leather chair behind the counter, legs spread wide, one hand holding a sketchpad, the other spinning a tattoo gun idly between his fingers like a toy.
Dark, slightly wavy hair. A few strands falling into his eyes. Rings on nearly every finger. One silver bar in his eyebrow. Another glinting on his lip.
He's wearing a sleeveless hoodie, arms covered in inkāsome intricate, some scrawled like afterthoughts. His forearms flex as he shifts, glancing up at you lazily, and thenā
Freeze.
He smirks. Not the kind of smirk youāre used to. This one slides slow across his face like silk on skinācocky, amused, interested. He sets the sketchbook down and stands, sauntering over.
āYou lost, angel?ā
His voice is warm gravel. A little teasing. Heās already clocked you as a first-timer.
You swallow. āNo. Um⦠I think I have an appointment? For 5PM?ā
He leans against the counter, gloved hand flipping through the schedule.
āName?ā
You give it. He taps the page. āFirst ink?ā he asks, gaze flicking over you.
You nod.
His eyes drag down your form and back up againālike heās marking you before the needle ever touches you. āCute.ā
A pause.
āAlright. Youāre with me.ā
The moment he leads you past the curtain, everything quiets. Not literallyāthereās still the low thrum of lo-fi beats playing through overhead speakers, and you can hear the soft buzz of a machine in the next boothābut something in the air shifts. Youāve stepped into his space now.
The room is dim, intentionally so. Not cold or sterile, but intimate. The walls are painted a charcoal grey, with scattered framed sketches and flash art displayed like gallery pieces. A small desk against the back wall is cluttered with ink bottles, gloves, stencils, and scribbled notes on napkins. Thereās a chair in the centerāsleek black leather, mechanical levers gleaming faintly under the spotlight aimed above it. It's positioned deliberately beneath a halo of warm light, like a stage for sin.
Han gestures for you to sit.
You do, heart already hammering harder than you'd like to admit. Your hands grip the armrests automatically, more out of nerves than necessity.
He sanitizes his hands in silence, then slips on a pair of black nitrile gloves with practiced ease. The snap of the first one makes you flinch. He notices.
A flick of his mouthāhalf amusement, half something darker.
āSo. You still sure about it?ā he asks, voice calm but low, like smoke over velvet.
You nod, holding out the reference image you broughtāa small, simple design. Meaningful. Something youāve thought about for months. A delicate poppy, petals slightly unfurledā¦But at the base of the flower, instead of a regular stem, it grows from the open mouth of a tiny anatomical heart.
Han doesnāt look at the paper right away. His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer than they should. Then he takes it gently, fingers brushing yours through the gloves.
āPretty,ā he murmurs, gaze flicking from the paper to your face. āSubtle. Clean lines⦠thisāll look good on you.ā
You try to smile, but your throat feels tight. āThanks.ā
āWhere do you want it?ā
You hesitate. Then, softly: āRibcage.ā
That earns you an arched brow and the barest flicker of a smirk.
āShy spot. I like that,ā he says, turning to prep his materials. You watch the muscles shift as he reaches for a stencil pad. āOkay, shirt off. Just what you need, nothing more. I wonāt bite.ā
You freeze.
He pauses for a beat. Then tilts his head, eyes crinkling slightly. āUnless you beg,ā he adds with a wink.
Your cheeks go hot. You laughānervously. It feels like your skin is already burning.
You carefully lift your shirt just high enough to expose the side of your torso, tugging the fabric over your bra, folding it under your arm to keep it out of the way. You're acutely aware of how much skin you're showingāeven more so under that bright, direct light.
He kneels beside you with the stencil, gaze focused. You expect him to avoid eye contact, to be clinicalābut Han is anything but.
His fingers brush your waist, and they stay there, warm through the gloves. His hand spreads slightly, holding your skin steady as he gently presses the cool stencil to your ribs.
āBreathe for me, yeah?ā he murmurs, glancing up at you with a crooked smile. āIām gonna press it right hereā¦ā
You suck in a breath, chest rising.
He places the stencil deliberately. Slowly. His face is closeāclose enough that you can see the curve of his lashes, the faint sheen of gloss on his lip ring. You smell cedar and musk on his hoodie. His fingers flex slightly against your side.
He looks up.
āYouāre already twitchy,ā he says softly, voice dropping just enough to make you forget how to breathe. āGonna be a fun ride.ā
You donāt know if he means the tattoo. And neither does he.
He stands and moves to the table beside him, switching out tools like itās second nature. The machine buzzes to life with a sharp mechanical hum.
You tense.
He catches it immediately.
āFirst pinch might sting,ā he says, voice suddenly gentle, almost coaxing. āIāll talk you through it. Youāre good.ā
You nod again, trying not to clench your fists.
Then his hand is back on your body.
He anchors you with one palm spread wide over your side, right above your hip. Itās not forceful, but thereās weight to it. A possessive steadiness. The leather chair creaks faintly under the shift of your body.
And then the needle touches. A sharp, sudden sting. You wince.
āBreathe. Just like that. Youāre doing so well, pretty,ā he says, voice a constant hum in your ear. āYour skin takes ink like a dream. Fuck, this is gonna look good.ā
You exhale through your nose, trying to focus on the sound of his voice instead of the burn.
It helps. But not in the way it should. Because Han doesnāt shut up. Not once.
āDonāt squirm too much⦠unless you want me to slip.ā
āYouāre soft here. So fucking soft.ā
āBet youāre the type who likes being teased, huh?ā
You let out a choked laugh, more from panic than humor. He grins, eyes glinting.
The buzz of the machine, the heat of his palm on your skin, the constant commentaryāit all blends into a haze. Youāre dripping adrenaline and something else entirely. You feel like youāve been stripped down far deeper than your shirt allows.
After what feels like both a lifetime and a blink, the needle slows. He lifts it. āAlmost done. Youāve been such a good girl for me.ā
The words land like a slap and a stroke at once.
He sets the machine aside, reaching for a fresh cloth. He wipes your skin slowly. Not rough. Not rushed. Every pass of his hand is careful, gentle.
Youāre trembling now. Just a little.
He leans back finally and exhales. The air feels different. Like itās shifted againāthicker.
āThere,ā he says. āWanna see?ā
You nod, throat dry.
He helps you upāguides you to a mirror near the corner. His hand stays on your back.
You look. And for a second, you forget how to breathe again. The tattoo is perfect. Clean, delicate, exactly how you pictured it. But itās not just the ink that makes your chest acheāitās the fact that itās his. His hands made this. His touch. His art. On your skin.
āMy workās on you now,ā he murmurs behind you, voice low and close. āYouāre not gonna forget me, are you?ā
You shake your head. You couldnāt if you tried.
The moment you slide your shirt back down, your skin feels⦠different. Not just because it's slightly tender from the ink, but because his touch still lingers. Like heat soaked into your bones. Like a fingerprint on your soul. You shouldnāt be this affectedāheās just your tattoo artist. Right?
You sit there for a moment longer than necessary, blinking as he finishes cleaning his station. His gloves come off with a snap, and he tosses them into the bin. You glance up, andāyepāheās watching you.
Leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed, hair a little mussed, rings catching the light. Smug as hell.
āYou survived,ā he says, voice bright with that chaos-riddled lilt again. āDidnāt cry. Didnāt puke. Iām impressed.ā
You roll your eyes. āHigh praise.ā
āIāve had grown men pass out from rib pieces,ā he shrugs. āOne guy farted. Loud. Mid-linework. I almost dropped the machine.ā
You snort despite yourself. āWell, thanks for not comparing me to the Fart Guy until the end.ā
He grins, wide and gleaming. āNo, no, youāre top-tier,ā he says, stepping closer to grab your care sheet. āDidnāt even whimper. Except for that one part where your breath hitched and I thoughtāyāknow, for a secondāyou might come on the chair.ā
You nearly choke. āExcuse me?!ā
āKidding,ā he sing-songs. āUnlessā¦?ā
Your glare is ruined by the flush racing up your neck. You stand and grab your bag in a hurry, trying to save face. āYouāre awful.ā
āIām delightful.ā
He leads you back toward the front desk, swaying just slightly with each step, like heās got too much energy stored in those shoulders. You swear heās bouncing on the balls of his feet. Itās giving feral golden retriever with a tattoo gun and a praise kink.
You hand over your card while avoiding eye contact.
He hums dramatically as he takes it, flipping it over like heās studying an ancient rune.
āYou sure you donāt wanna tip in other ways?ā he says, deadpan.
Your jaw drops.
He grins, swipes your card, and taps it dramatically against the reader before handing it back. āJoking, obviously. Unless that wasn't a āno,ā in which case, Iām free next weekāTuesday, after 7?ā
You grab the receipt from the printer and scowl at him. āYou flirt with all your clients like this?ā
āOnly the pretty ones who shake when I touch their ribs.ā
You stare.
He smiles wider.
āOkay, okayālast line, I swear,ā he chuckles. Then, softer: āHey. Can I get your number?ā
The way he asks itāitās not sleazy. Itās bold, sure. But thereās this undercurrent of actual interest, like heās asking for something more than just your digits.
You blink. āWhy?ā
āāCause I want it?ā he says, grinning. āAlso, in case your tattoo needs a touch-up. Or emotional support. Or if you just feel like sending me hot selfies. Itās a multi-purpose thing.ā
You hesitate. Your pulse says yes before your mouth does. He notices. He always notices. You hand him your phone, and he immediately types his own number in, labelling it:
HAN āWILL NOT SHUT UPā JISUNG š¤
He sends himself a text from your phone, winks, then gives it back. āNow weāre connected,ā he says āDigitally. Spiritually. Carnallyāwell, not yet.ā
You open your mouth to sass him. āYou were so close to being cool,ā you say.
āClose is my middle name.ā
You snort and shake your head as you step toward the door. āBye, Han.ā
āSee you soon, angel.ā
Youāre out the door.
The texting started immediately. Like, within minutes of you leaving the shop.
What began as tattoo care check-ins (ādonāt scratch it or Iāll spank youāunless?ā) turned into daily chaos. Then nightly chaos. Then a full-blown flirtationship spiralling out of control.
Han texts like he lives inside your braināfiring off filthy one-liners between jokes that make you wheeze-laugh at 1AM, switching between āyouāre my filthy little secretā and āpls tell me Iām cute or Iāll cry.ā
You finally cave after he begs you to get ramen at 9PM āas friends who have sexual tension.ā
You show up. Heās already sitting cross-legged in the booth, hoodie sleeves rolled up, lip ring glinting, chopsticks twirling in one hand like heās about to duel someone.
He greets you with: āYou look edible. I meant that in a respectful way. Mostly.ā
You try to play it cool. He doesnāt let you.
The whole night is full of dumb jokes, spicy noodles, and under-the-table foot nudging that turns into ankle grazing that turns intoā
āYou keep that up, baby,ā he murmurs across the table, āand Iām gonna drag you to the bathroom and remind you what these fingers can do.ā
You nearly choke on your drink. He laughs, head tilted back, so proud of himself.
You leave flustered. He kisses your cheek in the parking lot. Just your cheek. But his hand lingers at your waist. His mouth is right next to your ear.
āCall me when you canāt sleep,ā he says, low. āIāll make sure you get tired again.ā
You almost trip on the curb.
The calls eventually started and slowly became routine. Especially those 1AM phone calls, they were like clockwork. You, in bed, breath heavy as his voice would melt through the speaker.
āYou touching yourself yet?ā
āYou want me to talk you through it?ā
āWant me to tell you what Iād do if I had you on my lap right now?ā
He moans in your ear when you do what he says.
Filthy. Unfiltered. And when itās overāwhen youāre breathless and ruinedāhe says the softest things:
āWish I was there to hold you.ā
āYouāre so fucking hot, but youāre also cute and funny and itās unfair.ā
āYou still like me, right?ā
Itās not just lust anymore. It's want. Sticky, addictive, confusing want.
It started with a text.
Just one. Sent on a whim while lying in bed late at night, staring at the first tattoo he gave youādelicate black lines peeking from beneath your shirt, still soft to the touch even weeks later.
[You, 11:23PM]
thinking about getting another one
You didnāt expect a fast reply. But Jisungās name lit up your phone in under two minutes.
[HAN āWILL NOT SHUT UPā š¤, 11:24PM]
oh?? š
where
when
how much skin we talking
is it just an excuse to see me again
(pls say yes)
You rolled your eyes. Typed back:
[You]
hipbone
small script
and maybe
what if it was both
His reply came in a blink:
[HAN āWILL NOT SHUT UPā š¤]
come by the shop this friday
after hours
no distractions
just me. you. ink.
doors locked. lights low.
ā¦for professionalism, obviously š
You stared at the screen for a long time before replying.
And then:
[You]
see you friday.
Friday. 9:04PM.
Seoulās city pulse is just starting to dim when you push open the door to NO SAINT INK for the second time.
The bell doesnāt ring. He told you it wouldnāt.
The neon signs are still litāSINNERāS HANDS flickering a slow blood-red glow in the windowābut the rest of the shop feels different. Empty. Still. Like something waiting to be touched.
The lights are dimmed. Only one small lamp buzzes near the back, casting long shadows across the matte-black walls.
Your steps echo a little as you walk inside. Thenā
āBack here, pretty.ā
His voice, low and smooth, floats from behind a curtain in the far booth.
You follow it. Pull the curtain aside. And there he is.
Heās already set up.
Tattoo machine prepped, gloves laid out neatly beside his sketch pad. Heās wearing an oversized black tee tucked loosely into ripped jeans, sleeves rolled just enough to show off the ink that curls around his biceps like living things.
He doesnāt look at you at first.
Heās focused on the script youād sent him earlierāyour design. A small phrase, handwritten in your own messy scrawl: āstill hungry.ā
When he finally glances up, it hits you like the first time all over again.
The way his lip curls. The way his eyes bite first and ask questions later. āLook at you,ā he murmurs, voice dipped in something dark and fond. āBack for more.ā
You lean against the boothās edge, heartbeat already in your throat. āYou said professionalism, remember?ā
He stands slowly. Walks toward you. You can feel the heat radiating off him in waves.
āI lied.ā
A beat. Thenā
āWhereās it going again?ā
You lift the hem of your hoodie just a little. Hook your thumb beneath your waistband and tug it down, just far enough to expose the sharp curve of your hipbone.
His gaze drops.
Stays.
He doesnāt speak for a moment too long. Just staresālike heās trying to memorize you before he ruins you. āThatās dangerous, you know,ā he says softly. āLetting me touch you there.ā
You try to swallow. Fail. āYouāre the one who said no distractions.ā
He smiles. āYouāre the fucking distraction.ā
He gloves up without another word.
You lie back on the chair, heart slamming in your chest, every inch of skin suddenly too hot.
Youāre not sure what you expected. Something casual? Familiar? But the moment his gloved hand touches your bare hipāsteadying you, fingers spread firm and warmāthe entire world narrows to him.
āBreathe for me,ā he murmurs, positioning the stencil. āJust like last time. You remember how good you were for me?ā
You exhale shakily.
āYou gonna behave again tonight, pretty thing?ā
You whisper: āMaybe.ā
He leans in. His mouth is close to your skin. His voiceābarely a breath. āGod, I hope not.ā Heās still positioning the stencil.
And you? You're laid back on the chair, hoodie bunched beneath your ribs, waistband tugged low, every nerve ending on alert. The soft lamplight paints shadows across his jaw as he kneels between your legs, eyes focused.
And thenā
āYou know,ā he says lightly, pressing the stencil into place, āIāve seen a lot of hipbones. But this one might be my favourite.ā
You snort. āWow. So original.ā
He grins without looking up. āWhat, you donāt believe me?ā
āIām sure you say that to all your clients.ā
āOnly the ones who sext me about popsicles and then block me for ten minutes.ā
You go still. He finally glances up. Smirks. āYeah. Thought I forgot about that?ā
You mutter, āI hate you.ā
āYou love me,ā he says immediately, like itās a fact. āYou want me to ruin your life. Slowly. Lovingly. With tattoos and aftercare.ā
You cover your face. āShut up.ā
He laughsāa low, breathy sound. Then, softly: āIām starting the line now. Hold still, baby.ā
The machine whirs to life.
Itās quieter than you remember. Or maybe youāre just more awareāof everything. The way his gloved hand steadies your hip, thumb dragging along the edge of your waistband. The needleās sharp kiss. The buzz settling into your bones.
And Hanās voice. God, he never stops talking.
āThis spotās sensitive,ā he says, totally casual. āMost people squirm. But I like that.ā
You tense. He notices. Of course he does.
āRelax,ā he murmurs, dragging the line smooth. āYouāre doing perfect.ā
Another pause. Thenā
āDonāt suppose youāre into pain, are you?ā
You donāt answer. You donāt have to. He chuckles under his breath. āGod, you so are.ā
But then, just like thatāhis tone shifts. He quiets. Focuses. And the teasing melts into something heavier. āAlmost done,ā he says, more softly this time. āYouāve been so good for me again. Always are.ā
You blink. Your heart skips.
He wipes your skin again, slow and reverent, then leans back to look. Heās still crouched between your thighs, eyes focused, lips parted slightly as he takes it in.
āFuck.ā
You blink. āWhat?ā
He looks up at you. No grin now. Just quiet, open admiration. āItās gorgeous,ā he says. āLike⦠stupid good.ā He presses a kiss to his gloved fingertips and taps them against your skin.
āStill hungry,ā he reads aloud. āGod, I could write essays on that.ā
You roll your eyes, but youāre flushed. Breath shallow. Because now that the needleās doneā¦
Heās not moving. His hand stays on your waist. His eyes flick to your lips. Then back down. Thenā
āYou want me to touch you?ā
The question lands like a live wire in the room. But he doesnāt push. Doesnāt smirk. He just waits. Like heās offering something sacred. Like heād back off the second you said no. But you donāt. You canāt.
You nod. Barely.
His fingers tighten on your skin. āNah,ā he murmurs. āSay it. I want to hear it.ā
You swallow.
āā¦Yes.ā
āYes what, baby?ā
Your brain short-circuits.
āJisungāā
āUse your words, pretty thing. Or Iāll stop before I start.ā
You suck in a breath, eyes locking with his. āI want you to touch me.ā
He moves instantly.
The gloves are still on when he presses his palm flat against your hipbone, fingers spreading possessively. His hand feels huge thereālike it was made for this exact spot.
āFuck. Been thinking about this since the first time you came in,ā he mutters, voice dropping into something rough, reverent. āYou looked so fucking good in that chair. All nervous and squirmy.ā
He bends down.
Kisses the edge of your new tattoo, so soft it almost hurts. āMy nameās not even on you,ā he whispers, āand Iām still acting like youāre mine.ā
Your stomach flips. You whimper.
And he grins, but itās different nowāhungry, not cocky. āTake your pants off.ā
You blink.
He meets your eyes. āLet me take care of you.ā
You obeyāslow, breathless, trembling under his gaze. You slide them down and toss them aside. He leans in again, eyes tracing over the new ink and everything below it, slow and starving.
Youāre not wearing much underneath, lacy pink panties, with a very obvious wet spot on your center.
He groans softly. āYouāre already wet.ā
You gasp when his fingers brush over you, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. āAll this from a little needle?ā he teases. āOr is it the artist?ā
āFuck you,ā you breathe.
He laughs. One low, wicked exhale. āOh, you will. But not yet.ā
He leans back, peels his gloves off slowlyādragging each finger loose one by one, like heās unwrapping a gift. Tosses them into the bin without taking his eyes off you once.
Then he lowers himself between your legs.
Spreads your thighs just a little further apart with both hands.
You hear him exhale.
āFuck. This is gonna kill me.ā
He doesnāt touch you yet. Just leans in.
And presses a kiss right above your knee. Then the inside of your thigh. Then a little higher. And a little higher.
Your breath hitches when his lips ghost just beside the fabric.
āSoaked through lace,ā he murmurs. āThatās so fucking pretty, baby.ā
Youāre shaking now.
He mouths over the wet spotānot even pulling them down yet. Just letting the heat of his breath and the drag of his lips torture you. You feel the scrape of his lip ring as he kisses you again, open-mouthed, right there.
āBet youād cum just from this,ā he whispers. āMy mouth through your panties. Barely even trying.ā
You whimper. One hand fisting the edge of the chair.
His fingers slide over the wet spot next, slow and teasing. Two fingers rub a lazy circle, barely pressingājust enough to make your hips twitch. āI should leave these on,ā he says, almost to himself. āJust push them to the side. Make you beg for it.ā
You breathe, āJisungāpleaseāā
That does it.
He hooks his fingers under the waistband and drags them downāslow, deliberate, watching every inch of you get exposed.
He groans loudly the second youāre bare. āHoly fuck.ā
Then heās leaning in again, this time nothing between you. He kisses your inner thigh first. Then lower.
Thenā
His tongue drags one long, obscene stripe up your center. You cry out, hips buckingāhe presses a hand to your stomach, holding you still with an effortless command:
āStay fucking still.ā
Then he goes back in. He licks you like he means itāmessy, slow, then fast and deep. His tongue circles your clit with practiced chaos. He moans against you, loud, like you taste like something sacred.
āYou taste like fucking heaven,ā he groans, voice muffled.
His hands spread you wider, his tongue dipping into your heat, nose pressed right up against your skin.
Then he sucks. Hard.
Your head falls backāgone.
āThatās it,ā he purrs. āMy perfect little slut. Look at you.ā
Your hands tangle in his hair. You tug. He groans again and ruts into the fucking air, desperate for friction while he eats you out like heās starving.
āYou gonna cum on my mouth?ā he growls, voice wrecked. āYou want me to keep going or make you beg for it?ā
You try to answerācanāt.
He pulls back for just a moment, lips and chin shining. āUse your words, baby. You know the rules.ā
āGod,ā he groans. āKeep saying my name like that and Iām gonna cum in my fucking jeans.ā
Then he dives back in, faster now, tongue fucking into you, hand moving to circle your clit with soaked fingers while he sucks and moans like youāre his last goddamn meal. Heās everywhereāhis mouth, his hand, the filthy hum of his moans vibrating straight through your core. He doesnāt pause to tease, doesnāt stop to talk this time. Heās all action now. Starved. Feral.
āFuck,ā he growls between licks, the words hot and wet against your folds. āYou taste so fucking good. Gonna make me lose my mind.ā
His tongue pushes in again. He flicks it fast, then slow, then sucks at your clit with a deep, wet moan that makes you cry out, back arching clean off the chair.
āThere you go,ā he pants, not even breaking rhythm. āJust like that. Give it to me, baby. Come on.ā His voice is breathless, desperateālike heās the one about to cum.
Youāre shaking. Legs trembling. Itās too much. Itās not enough.
Your hands are clutching his hair, holding him right where you need him, and he just groans louder, grinding his face deeper like he wants to live between your legs. His lip ring catches against your clitāagain, and againāand your thighs clamp around his head instinctively.
He doesnāt stop. Doesnāt even flinch.
He just moans into you, hands gripping your hips tighter, holding you down as your whole body starts to unravel. You feel it in your spine. In your toes. In the fucking air.
āYou close, pretty thing?ā he slurs against your clit. āYeah, you are. Youāre fucking drippingāmaking a mess for me. So fucking perfect. All mine.ā
That breaks you.
You cum harder than you ever have in your lifeāwith a sob, a gasp, a full-body spasm that crashes over you like a goddamn tsunami.
You hear yourself. You scream his name.
Jisung.
Jisung.
Jisung.
And he takes it.
He drinks it down like a man possessed, moaning into you like youāre water in the desert, like heās been waiting his whole life to taste you fall apart. He doesnāt even stop when you cumāhe licks you through it, tongue softening only slightly as your body twitches and bucks and pleads for mercy.
Itās too much. Itās so good it hurts.
āJ-Jisungāfuckāwaitātoo muchāā
Only then does he pull back, chest heaving, face absolutely wrecked. His mouth, his chin, even the tip of his nose glistens with you. He looks dazed.
Blessed.
He runs a hand down his face and just stares at youāspread out, soaked, shaking, glowing.
Then: āHoly fuck.ā
You blink up at him, still gasping, brain static.
He grinsāwide, flushed, proud as hell. āI knew it. I fucking knew it. Best pussy of my life.ā You try to sass him. You really do. But all that comes out is a whimper.
āAw,ā he coos, leaning down to kiss your cheek. āDumbed you out already?ā
He brushes your hair back, kisses your forehead. āYou okay?ā
You nod. Barely.
āYou want more?ā
You nod. Desperately.
He chuckles, voice thick with affection and wrecked restraint. āYeah, baby. Me too.ā Then he stands up, undoing his belt with shaking hands, and murmurs: āGet comfy. āCause Iām gonna fuck you so good, you forget your own name.ā
Youāre still gasping. Still trembling. But your eyes follow the movement of his handsāshaking slightly as he undoes his belt, then the button, then the zipper.
He pushes his jeans downā
And your breath catches. You knew heād be pretty. But not like this. Not this.
Thick. Flushed. Slight curve to the left.
And not just the look of itāthe feel of it, even before heās inside. You know instinctively itās going to destroy you. That kind of snug fit that presses into all the right places and leaves no room for secrets.
He strokes himself once, slow and slick, precum already leaking from the tip. āGonna be good for me, baby?ā he asks, voice shaking as he fists his cock. āLet me feel that perfect pussy now?ā
You nod. Dumb. Ready. So wet you feel it drip onto the chair beneath you.
He lines upārubs the head of his cock over your folds, up and down, teasing your clit before circling your entrance. Youāre still sensitive. Still twitching. And he feels it. āStill throbbing for me,ā he murmurs. āGod, youāre unreal.ā
He pushes in. Slow. Deep. Too much. Too good.
You cry outāyour body arching, your hands gripping the armrest and his forearm and anything you can reach.
Because he fits. Perfectly. Thick enough to make you stretch wide, gasp, feel it in your lungs. But not enough to hurt. Noājust enough to ruin you.
āF-fuck,ā he groans, head falling forward. āYouāre squeezing me so tightāJesusādonāt move yet, Iāll cum too fastāā He bottoms out, hips flush to yours. He stays there for a second. Still trembling. His cock twitches inside you.
āIām gonna die,ā he whispers. āIām gonna die in this pussy.ā
You laughāa breathless, broken thingāand he grins like heās proud.
Then? He pulls out halfway. And slams back in. Hard. And again. And again. Fast. Unhinged. Like heās been waiting to do this for weeks. āOh fuck, thatās it. Thatās it, babyākeep takinā itāso fucking perfectāā
Heās rambling now. Whimpering.
Each thrust hits so deep you swear you see stars. Itās a rhythm that shouldnāt exist, shouldnāt be real. Every stroke dragging against your g-spot, every snap of his hips making your thighs quake.
And heās talking. So much.
āYou feel that? Huh? You feel how good you make me?ā
āYouāre all mine. This pussy? Fucking mine. Say it.ā
āSay it, baby, cāmonātell me who it belongs toāā
You choke out, āYouāitās yours, Jisungāfuck, youāre so deepāā
He moansāwrecked. āGod, Iām not gonna lastāfuckāyouāre too goodāyouāre too fucking goodāā Then he bends downāmouth at your ear, hips still pounding into you like heās trying to brand your soul.
āOne more,ā he whispers. āJust one more, yeah? Be my good girl and cum for me againācome onācum on my cockālet me feel youāā
You barely get the chance to nod. Because thenāhe changes rhythm.
Not slower. Not gentler. Worse. He fucks you harder. Deeper. Like his body knows exactly how to hit every nerve inside you. Like heās memorized your walls. And maybe he has. Maybe from the moment he first touched you in that chair, his entire brain rewired for thisāfor you.
āSo fucking tight,ā he pants, voice cracked open, almost panicked. āShitālook at how you take meālook at that, fuckāā
Heās holding your waist again, but carefullyājust above the fresh tattoo. His fingers dig into your ribs, grip locked in, not letting you squirm away as he slams into you, pace frantic, unrelenting.
āCanāt touch your hips,ā he growls, āso Iām gonna hold you right hereājust like thisāuntil you fall apart again.ā
Then his hand slides down. Finds your clit. And rubs. Fast. Tight.
You moan loud.
āTell me what it feels like,ā he pants, eyes locked on your face, wild. āCome on, babyātalk to me. You know the rules.ā
You try. You try so hard.
āItāsāfuckāJisungāitās too muchāI-I canātāā
His hand doesnāt stop. His cock drives up into you like itās chasing your orgasm, like he can feel it coming and he wants to drag it out of you with his bare hands. āYes, you can. Youāre my good girl, right? My perfect fucking babyātell me what you feel.ā
You sob. āItās everywhereāitās so deepāI feel you in my stomach, Jisungāā
That makes him moanāfull, wrecked, helpless. āYeah? Thatās it, baby. You feel me stretching you out? You feel how hard youāre clenching around me?ā
Heās unhinged. Fucking you like he needs to feel you cum on his cock. Like itās his only goddamn mission in life.
āDonāt hold back. Let me have it. Show me how good I make you feel.ā His fingers tighten, rub faster. His cock keeps slamming up into that perfect, perfect spot.
And you break.
You fall apart on him with a cry that splits the airāyour orgasm ripping through you like a detonation, a white-hot snap that makes your whole body lock up and tremble.
You cum hard. Harder than before. Harder than ever.
And he feels it. Feels you clench around him like a vice, walls pulsing, soaked, squeezing every last bit of him until heās gasping into your throat. āFuckāfuckāIām gonnaābabyāIāmāā
He slams in once, twice moreāthen stills. Buried deep. Groaning so loud it echoes. And cums. Hot. Fast. Deep. He fills you up with a desperate, whimpering exhaleāhead falling into the crook of your neck, fingers flexing tight on your waist as he rides it out, hips twitching helplessly inside you.
āJesusāholy fuckāhow are you realāā
You donāt know what you say. You donāt know if youāre breathing. All you know is he doesnāt let go. Not even after. His arms wrap around you, one hand sliding up to your ribs, the other cupping your jaw gently as he leans in and kisses your forehead.
Sweet. Messy. Possessive.
āIām so fucking in love with your pussy.ā he mumbles against your skin.
You laughāwrecked and breathless. āYou just came in me.ā
āI did. Iāll take responsibility.ā
āYou didnāt even mean to.ā
āThatās what makes it romantic.ā
But then he goes quiet. Both of you do. Still joined. Still pulsing.
The only sound in the room is your breathingāshaky, shallow, shared.
Hanās body is draped over yours, his skin hot and sticky, his face buried in your neck like he might actually die if he moves. Heās not even thrusting anymoreājust lying there, full-on koala mode, arms around your waist, cock still twitching inside you like it doesnāt know it's over.
āI think I saw God,ā he whispers.
You blink, still boneless and floating.
āPretty sure she winked at me and said āGood job, Jisung.āā
You snort into the crumpled pillow beneath you. āWas she hot?ā
He lifts his head just enough to deadpan: āShe looked like you.ā
A pause.
āExcept taller. And clothed. And not full of cum.ā
You let out a noise thatās half wheeze, half scream, face flushing as you try to twist awayābut he tightens his grip, groaning as his still half-hard cock shifts inside you.
āNooo, donāt move,ā he whines. āYouāll make me hard again and Iāll die. Youāre too powerful.ā
You roll your eyes. āYou just came in me, and now youāre being dramatic?ā
He lifts his face, eyes wide. āIām always dramatic. But now Iām dramatic and post-nut mushy.ā
You smack his armālightly. He grins and kisses your shoulder like heās never been happier in his life.
Then, suddenly gentle: āYou okay? Need anything?ā
You hum. āWater. A towel. A new pelvis.ā
āI can offer you one of those things.ā
He pulls out slowly, careful. You both wince a little, and he immediately fumbles for the nearest clean towel, muttering, āShit, sorry, sorryādamn, we really did that, huh?ā
He cleans you up softly, thoroughly. Tongue poking out in concentration, hands warm and reverent. You watch him in the dim lightāhis flushed cheeks, mussed-up curls, that stupid satisfied look on his face like he just won the lottery and the trophy was you.
He helps you sit up, eyes wide looking you over as if wanting to make sure you are okay and not just saying you're okay.
You smile at him, dazed. āThat was insane.ā
āYouāre welcome.ā
Then, quieter: āI really like you, by the way.ā
You glance at him. Heās suddenly shyāvoice small, fingers playing with the hem of the towel. āI meanāI know this was hot and wild and unholy, but like. Youāre not just hot and wild and unholy. Youāreā¦ā
He scratches the back of his head. āCool. Funny. Gorgeous. Smart. And you have great pain tolerance and taste in art andāI dunnoāyour moans live in my soul now.ā
You blink at him. He shrugs. āI just think youāre neat.ā
You laugh. You canāt help it. You lean in, kiss him soft. He melts instantly.
Twenty minutes later, youāre both curled on the couch in the back lounge. Your legs are over his lap. Youāre sipping water. Heās holding your hand and doodling hearts on your thigh with a sharpie.
āSo,ā he says, yawning. āWhen do you want your third tattoo?ā
You give him a look. āPlanning ahead?ā
He smirks, smug. āJust making sure I get to fuck you again.ā
You flick his forehead.
āOwāokay, okay. For art. Not for horny.ā
But you both know the truth. Youāre absolutely getting another tattoo. And this man is going to absolutely ruin you again. With love. And dick. And filthy words. And then cuddle you like a little spoon with separation anxiety.
So the answer? Yeah. Yeah you will be seeing more of him. More dates. More dick. More tattoos. Guess it's fate.
what if minho was actually an alien with tentacles? what then??
pairing; lee know x reader
tw; porn with plot (kinda), alien!minho, fem reader, NSFW, oral (fem receiving), tentacles, predator x prey dynamics, double penetration, unprotected sex (be smart), bondage (i think?)
you have really never had many opinions about aliens. do they exist? probably. do you want to meet them? it would be cool. but overall, youāve never believed the UFO sightings online and youāve made peace with the fact that you will probably never see an alien in your lifetime.
enter: minho. at least, thatās what the creature/man/humanoid that just slipped into your bedroom window said itās name was. you know, after you calmed down and stopped screaming and told the police you accidentally dialed their number, you were safe and they did not need to perform a wellness check.
minho has violet hair, pale lilac skin, and narrowed eyes- like a big cat, looking for prey. his eyes flit around the room as you make him a cup of tea, this poor alien (who is very real and very much sitting in your desk chair) is lost and confused. he kind of looks less like a big cat, and more like a domestic one.
you learn that minho is in fact from another planet- another galaxy entirely. he was running from something, you arenāt sure what, but he landed on earth. he was trying to find shelter when he saw your window, he came inside because he felt the soft purple glow from your LED lights was comforting.
minho gets comfortable fast. he took over your spare bedroom, spends his days lounging on your couch and learning new things about the human world. every evening you teach him how to be a normal human dude and he listens intently, blinks slow, deep purple tongue flicking out to lick his lips every so often.
minho is⦠hot. like, ridiculously hot. when he showers he likes to walk around in sweatpants with no shirt on, towel hanging limply from his shoulders. he runs lilac fingers through violet hair and you blank out, forgetting what you were saying. sometimes, when youāre sure minho is in his room doing whatever the fuck aliens do, you get your favorite toy out and moan his name into your pillow.
hereās the thing: minho has tentacles. this is a fact you didnāt even know until one day when he was helping you put dishes away. a plate almost crashes into the floor- except, a deep purple tentacle, honest to god tentacle, whips out from minhoās back and catches it mid air. you barely have time to process what had happened before he pulls the tentacle back into his body, safe and sound.
and hereās the thing: that is so fucking hot.
youāve never seen minho eat. he likes learning to cook, and likes making dinner for you, but he never participates in eating the food. sometimes you offer him a bite. he takes the fork in between plush purple lips and wraps his tongue around the food, but grimaces when he swallows. itās not what i eat, he would say.
and minho is- well, heās looking skinny. a little frail. his cheeks are a little sunken in, heās hungry. but you have no clue how to help him, so you just ask. whatās the worst that could happen?
what you werenāt prepared for it a dark purple flush on his cheeks, tongue poking into his lip and fingertips twitching. you couldnāt help, donāt worry about it, he says. but clearly, you worry about it.
in fact, you worry about it so much. it isnāt until late at night, way past midnight when you think minho is in his room, that you realize what he eats. while youāre thinking of him, hand between your spread thighs, favorite toy in hand, a chill suddenly runs down your spine. shivering, you pause.
something is watching you.
then, minho. he has been peeking through the crack in your door, but now he moves forward. stalking, like a predator hunting down prey. you gulp, and against your better judgement, you feel even hotter as he draws closer.
he is eerily quiet, watching you- watching the hand between your thighs, watching your soaked pussy clench around your cute little toy. he clenches his jaw as he draws closer, a loud pop coming from the bone.
so hungry, minho mouths the words, but thatās not his voice. itās animalistic, a low timbre that just serves to make you more wet. he crawls onto the bed, stealthy, making no noise. having no survival instincts whatsoever, you pull the toy away from your clenching hole and spread your legs wider.
minho devours you.
he keeps clawed hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open, while his tongue absolutely drinks you in. he circles your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth feverishly- like heās starved. you cry out, hands gripping and pulling violet hair.
but he doesnāt stop there. minho quickly finds your messy hole, sucking and licking at your puffy cunt like itās his greatest meal. his tongue fucks in and out of you- longer than a human tongue, long enough to press right against that sweet bundle of nerves inside you.
then, his fucking tentacles are out. first thereās one, whipping out of his back and coming to wrap around your waist, holding you still. then another, binding your wrists and pinning them to the pillow above your head. another, running across your tits and latching onto each nipple, sucking. finally, one last tentacle comes to your core, slithering into your entrance and making you scream.
it doesnāt stop. minho looks like he isnāt anywhere near finished with you. next, heās pumping that thick, pulsing tentacle in and out of you at a faster pace than you can even keep up with. he stills sucks and licks at your clit, pushing and pulling you along the bed as he pleases. youāre helpless, couldnāt get away if you wanted to (you donāt want to).
finally, finally, you cum. wrapped up in thick, purple tentacles, one fucking you so deep you can feel your stomach bulge, minhoās lips wrapped around your aching clit. and he still isnāt done.
the tentacle that was inside you pulls away slowly, minho cooing as you whine at the loss. he makes a show of showing it off, the suckers covered in cum, the deep purple of it coated in white. then, the tentacle is moving to your mouth. and you open right up.
minho is practically purring, now seemingly less hungry more turned on. his boxers come off, his dick is fucking huge, and he wastes no time in lining up with your needy hole.
when he slides inside of you, itās to the hilt. when you try to scream, itās muffled by the thick tentacle in your mouth. the one around your waist tightens.
so fucking good, minho moans, eyes squeezed shut. feel so tight, pulling me in so deep.
thereās a look in minhos eye now- crazed, but satiable. he seems to be considering something. then, his eyes light up. you gulp.
another tentacle- stemming from his back, thicker and veinier than the others, crawls towards your entrance. you whimper, pussy clenching at the idea of trying to fit not only his huge cock, but also that thing inside you. you couldnāt do it. there was no way.
minho disagrees.
the push at your entrance, the feeling of two long, giant, cock shaped things filling you up- itās too much. itās so much. your head is spinning, body shaking like a leaf, and minho is fucking grinning. he looks maniacal, eyes half lidded and pushing his cock in further and pulling the tentacle halfway out before doing the same thing in reverse, fucking you endlessly with the appendages.
you start crying- you canāt help it, you feel so good- and minho is delighted, licks the tears right off your cheeks. his hand moves from your thigh, towards your center. he pinches your clit, the bite of his mean fingers enough to send you toppling over the edge again- hard.
you might black out for a second. when you come back to yourself, minhoās tentacles are gone. he is walking towards the bed, clothes in tact and a sleepy, content smile on his face. he looks full.
you did so well, minho says, pressing a kiss to your temple as he climbs into bed behind you. your sheets are clean, you are too. a big t shirt that doesnāt belong to you is covering your spent body.
now i can eat when i need to, minho hums, snuggling into your shoulder from behind. your heartbeat skips at the feeling, you scoot closer to his warmth. maybe youāre okay with being a meal for an alien, as long as itās him.
a/n;
i couldnāt get this out of my head soooooo sorry to make yall read my nasty thoughts (not sorry btw) this isnāt proofread at all, i just had to ramble about minho with tentacles. i may edit it later
send requests for monster!skz x reader if youāre a freak :3 :3
SURPRISE!! Today is a triple special day for me, so let's get started
First of all, it's my babygirl @sweetlifeofjoy 's bday!! Happy birthday, Nari! I hope you have a wonderful day, surrounded by those you love and I wish a lot of happiness š And thanks for making my day a lot funnier whenever we talk... or flirt haha
Now, the second thing I wanna celebrate, it's Minho's debut on this blog yay! I tried to make something very Lee Know coded here, I guess it's giving off his vibes. I hope you all like it
And last but not least, I want to celebrate the 700 of us. I didn't even have time to thank you for 600 so consider that a combo. I am really really grateful for each one of you. Really. You make my little heart very happy šš¤
Word count: 1.0k
No warnings
Alexa, play Ink by Coldplay
Minho had been gone less than a day when you found the first note.
It was tucked beneath your toothbrush, folded into a tiny triangle with a doodle on the frontā a catĀ version of him, with exaggerated pouty lips and two big bright eyes that he asked Hyunjin to sketch. Underneath, in his unmistakable handwriting, it said:
āMiss me yet?ā
You laughed, even if your chest ached a little. Opening it, you could listen to his voice in the ink.
āBrush your teeth, sleepyhead. Iām not there to kiss you good morning, but I still expect fresh breath when I callā.
You stood there for a long moment, grinning down at the paper, toothbrush forgotten.
The next one showed up that afternoon, in the hoodie you stole from his wardrobe. You slipped your hand into the front pocket and felt itā another folded piece of paper. This one had small hearts all over it and a simple message:
āWear this one often. It smells like me. I gave it a final hug before I left. You're welcomeā
You giggled, hugging the hoodie tighter.
Minho had always been the quiet type when it came to words, more teasing than tender, but it felt like he had left tiny pieces of himself all over the apartment just to keep you company.
Every day you found a new one. One was taped to the coffee jar:
āDrink water too. No, coffee doesnāt count. Neither does bubble tea. I'm watching youā
Another slid out from between your laptop screen and keyboard:
āTake breaks. Donāt sit there for six hours straight or I will find outā
And then there was the one beneath his favorite mug:
āPlay our playlist. Skip the sad ones unless youāre missing me a lot. If you do listen to them, please donāt cry while holding my mug. Itās bad for the aestheticā.
They were scattered everywhereā beneath your pillow, taped to the ice cream lid in the freezer, inside the pages of your current book. Each one perfectly timed, each one so Minho.Ā
One, though, made you stop in your tracks and cackle like a hyena. It was taped to the front of the air fryer, written in red ink:
āI SWEAR TO GOD if you break my air fryer while Iām gone, I will haunt you. Not gently. Iām talking about flickering lights and mysterious cat hair in your cerealā
And then, like the cherry on top, a tiny postscript:
ā(Miss you though. Please eat something that isnāt chips)ā
You shook your head, grinning like an idiot. Only Lee Minho could threaten you with ghostly vengeance and still make your heart flutter.
Another note had been left on the windowsill where the cats loved to take a nap. This one was softer, written with a little paw print doodle in the back:
āTell Soonie heās in charge. Doongie gets extra head kisses. And Dori⦠canāt be trusted, so watch himā
āIf they look at you dramatically and cry like theyāre starving, remember: they are liars. Do not fall for it. But also⦠maybe give them a snack anywayā
āIf they sit on your lap, donāt you dare move. I donāt care if your leg goes numb. Thatās the price of loveā
āPS: If you fall asleep with them like that⦠just know Iām gonna be insanely jealous. But also please take a picture so I can melt over it for five minutes and then pretend Iām not crying in the tour vanā
You were crying laughing by the end of that one.
Each note was like a breadcrumb trail leading you right back to him, even while he was miles away.
But the note that made you sit down and press a hand to your chest, was under his pillow.
You only found it on the third day. You werenāt even looking, you were just making the bed out of habit, and there it wasā thicker than the rest.
You sat on the bed and unfolded it slowly, heart stuttering.
āThis oneās for the nights that feel heavyā
āYou donāt have to be okay just because Iām not there to see it. I know youāre strong, but I also know you. So cry if you need to. Eat ice cream for dinner. Watch that movie weāve seen a hundred timesā
āThen call me in the morning. Iāll listen to every word. You donāt have to do this alone. You never have toā
By the time Minho called you that night, the notes were lined up across the wall, like a paper mosaic.Ā
He appeared on your phone screen, hair damp from shower
Ā āWowā, he said when he saw the background, āI didnāt think youād actually keep themā
You rolled your eyes, pulling the hoodie tighter around you. āShut up, you wrote them! You thought Iād read them and toss them in the trash?ā
āI mean, yeahā, he said, āThatās what you do with my textsā
āI react with a heart to them!ā
Minho looked at you, inexpressible
āYou reacted with a heart to ādid you eat?ā like it was a love confessionā
You bit back a grin, āWasnāt it?ā
He paused, pretending to think, then nodded. āWell, you are right. Iām very romanticā
You laugh softly before confessing, āDamn, I miss youā
āYeahā, he said, rubbing the towel over his hair, āIf I were you, Iād miss me tooā.
You let out a loud, theatrical gasp and flopped dramatically back onto the bed like youād just been betrayed.
āI canāt believe this! Iām dating a menace. An actual menaceā
He blinked at the screen, āYouāre so dramaticā
āYouāre not even pretending to miss me!ā
Minho shook his head in disbelief, āYouāre wearing my hoodie, laying on my pillow, surrounded by my notes and youāre gonna sit there and act like I donāt miss you?ā
You were still pouting
He rolled his eyes
āI miss you so much it's annoyingā he said, āHappy now?ā
āNo! You said it was annoying!ā
āBecause Iām annoyed at myself, he grumbled, āFor being this whippedā
You grinned.
āSay it againā
āNoā
āSay it!ā
Minho sighed like he felt physical pain
āI miss youā, he muttered, āMore than the cats. But don't tell them thatā
You melted instantly.
āSee?ā You are romantic indeedā
He huffed, but his smile lastedā warm, bright and entirely yours.
If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated š
Tags: smut, first kiss, first time, unprotected sex (i cant help it), lots of kissing, seduction, feelings realization, bestfriends to lovers
Word Count: 7.2k
Summary: It was supposed to be a kissing lesson , just a friend helping his best friend out. What you didnāt know was that no one elseās kisses could be like seungmins, and that automatically switched everything upā¦
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
āMin, Iām serious. I donāt wanna mess this up.ā
You sat on the floor, legs crossed, back pressed against the side of your bed as you stared at himāKim Seungmin, resident menace, relationship cynic, and unfortunately, your best friend.
He was sprawled across your mattress, long legs hanging off the edge, hoodie half-rumpled from how many times heād rolled his eyes and flopped around like you were torturing him with this whole conversation.
āYou really want me to teach you how to kiss,ā he said flatly, his voice dipped in disbelief. āLike, actually kiss. Lips. Tongue. That whole deal.ā
āYes.ā You hesitated. āI just⦠I donāt wanna screw it up. Heās cute, and Iām nervous, and if I freeze or, I dunno, bite his nose or somethingāā
Seungmin snorted. āBite his nose?ā
āI panic!ā
He sighed, sitting up, arms resting over his knees. For a moment, he just looked at youālong enough that you started to regret even asking. Then he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, āThis is so weird.ā
āI know,ā you groaned, dragging a hand over your face. āYou donāt have toāā
āāBut I will,ā he cut in.
You blinked. āWait, really?ā
āI mean, yeah. Iām not gonna let you bomb your first kiss on some random guy who probably wears too much cologne and says āvibe checkā unironically.ā
A soft laugh escaped you, but your chest was tight. This was Seungmin. Your ride or die. And now you were asking him to kiss you like you were⦠anyone else.
āOkay,ā you said, voice barely above a whisper.
Seungmin shifted, sliding off the bed to sit in front of you. It was quietātoo quietāuntil he cleared his throat and gave you the most serious look youād ever seen on his face.
āIām not gonna make this a thing,ā he said, like a warning. āWeāre not making it weird, alright?ā
āRight. Not weird. Totally educational.ā
He raised a brow. āKissing 101 with Professor Kim.ā
You laughed nervously, and he didnāt. He was watching you again, eyes flicking down to your mouth for just a secondābarely long enough to catch.
āOkay, firstābreathe.ā His voice had dropped an octave. āYouāre tense.ā
āIām literally about to kiss you, of course Iām tense!ā
āFair,ā he murmured. Then he leaned in, slow and deliberate. āSo Iām gonna go inājust a little. You donāt have to do anything yet. Just follow my lead.ā
Your heart was in your throat as he tilted his head, his hand coming up to cup your jaw gently. His touch was careful. Measured. You could feel the heat of him, the scent of his cologneāclean, warm, familiar.
āClose your eyes,ā he whispered, so soft you barely heard it.
And then⦠his lips brushed yours.
It wasnāt a kissānot fully. Just a featherlight press. Testing. Patient.
He pulled back the tiniest bit, eyes scanning your face.
āYou okay?ā he murmured.
You nodded, breath shaky.
This time, he closed the distance fully. His mouth met yours, firmer now, and you felt his fingers flex slightly at your jaw. The kiss was slow, almost too slowāeach second stretched like he was making sure you absorbed every movement, every shift of his lips against yours.
When your mouth parted slightly, unsure, he made a soft sound in his throat and tilted your face a little more.
āGood,ā he whispered against you. āRelax your lipsādonāt overthink. Just feel it.ā
You mirrored him instinctively, letting your lips follow the rhythm he setāsoft, exploratory, unhurried.
Your hands had somehow found their way to his hoodie, clutching it lightly. You didnāt even realize until he broke the kiss, just a few centimeters away, his breath brushing your lips.
āThat,ā he said, voice husky and quiet, āwas your first real kiss.ā
You blinked, dazed, still holding onto him.
He let his hand fall away and cleared his throat like he was resetting his entire soul.
āNext lessonās gonna be about tongue,ā he added, glancing away like he wasnāt dying inside. āIf you donāt chicken out.ā
But neither of you moved.
Neither of you said the part out loudāthat something had shifted, cracked open just a little.
But it hung there.
Between you.
Heavy and undeniable.
āø»
You didnāt talk about it.
Not that night, not the next morning, not even after he left your place with a dumb excuse like āI have to go reorganize my playlists.ā You both pretended it hadnāt happenedāeven though it definitely had. Even though your lips still tingled, and every time you touched your face, you could feel the ghost of Seungminās mouth there.
It was just a kiss.
Just a favor.
Just a lesson.
Totally normal best friend behavior.
Right?
The next few days were⦠weird.
Seungmin was still Seungmināstill teasing you, still stealing your fries, still sending you TikToks at 3AM. But there was something different now. Like something was sitting between you, invisible but very present. A pause too long. A glance that lingered. A laugh that didnāt quite reach his eyes.
And maybe you were overthinking it.
Or maybe he was doing the exact same thing.
But neither of you brought it up.
You tried. Once. Sort of.
Youād both been hanging out in your room again, him scrolling through his phone while you fidgeted with the edge of your hoodie. You opened your mouth to say somethingāyou didnāt know whatāand then he looked at you and said, āYouāve got that face.ā
āWhat face?ā
āThe face you make when youāre about to overthink yourself into an aneurysm.ā
So you shut your mouth.
And the moment passed.
But it didnāt go away.
It settledāsimmering quietly under the surface, waiting.
And thenāa few days laterāyou snapped.
It was late. Too late to be texting anyone but Seungmin. You stared at your phone, thumbs hovering over the keyboard for a solid minute before you typed:
you up
His response was instant.
Always. Whatās up, panic princess?
You chewed your lip. Then:
I want lesson two
You sent it before you could back out.
The typing dots popped up. Disappeared. Popped up again.
And thenā
Youāre joking
You rolled your eyes.
Dead serious
This time, the dots stayed.
ā¦be at your place in 10
Your heart plummeted. Spiked. Did a triple backflip. You suddenly regretted everything.
You barely had time to throw on something semi-decent before your doorbell buzzed.
And when you opened the door, Seungmin just stood there, hoodie up, face unreadable.
āYou really wanna do this?ā he asked, voice low.
You swallowed. Nodded.
His jaw tightenedājust for a split second.
āAlright,ā he said, stepping inside. āLesson Two. Letās make it count.ā
And for the first time since youād known him, he sounded nervous.
āSit.ā
Seungminās voice was steady, but his hands were shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie like he didnāt trust what theyād do if he let them hang free.
You sat down on your bed, heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. You tucked your legs under you, back straight, trying to look composed even though your stomach was doing somersaults.
Seungmin stayed standing for a second too long. Like he was deciding whether to bolt or go through with it. And then, with a quiet sigh, he moved to sit in front of you againācloser this time. Too close.
He rubbed his hands together like he was warming up for a test. āOkay. So, Lesson Two.ā
You nodded, unsure if you were breathing right.
āWeāre covering tongue today,ā he said flatly, like he was announcing the weather. āPacing. Pressure. How to read the other person. And, yāknow⦠not slobber all over them.ā
You let out a nervous laugh. āGreat. Just what I needed. Anti-slobber tactics.ā
But he didnāt laugh this time.
His eyes met yours, and something in his expression flickeredālike he was feeling it, too, whether he wanted to or not.
āYou sure youāre good?ā he asked, voice quieter now. āBecause once we do this⦠itās gonna be hard to pretend it doesnāt mean anything.ā
You paused. Swallowed. āI trust you.ā
That got him. You saw it in the way he blinkedāonce, slow. Like your words knocked the wind out of him.
He nodded once. āOkay.ā
Then, slowlyāso slowlyāhe leaned in again.
You expected it to be like last time. Soft. Easy.
It wasnāt.
This kiss was different the second it started. Still gentleābut deeper. More sure. His mouth moved against yours with that same maddening control, but this time, there was a thread of tension under it. Strained. Taut. Like he was holding back something.
You felt it when his hand came up again, cupping your cheek with a featherlight touch. His thumb brushed along your jaw as he shifted closer, chest almost brushing yours.
āOpen your mouth a little,ā he murmured against your lips. āLet me lead, yeah?ā
You did as he said, nerves buzzing like live wires.
And then you felt itāhis tongue, tentative at first, just a soft flick against yours. Testing. Inviting. He pulled back slightly, giving you space to follow, and when you did, he let out the quietest soundāhalf a hum, half a sighālike he hadnāt expected you to match him so easily.
āGood,ā he breathed. āYouāre a fast learner.ā
He kissed you again, deeper this time, tongue gliding slowly against yoursāexploring, guiding, teaching. You werenāt just kissingāyou were listening to him through every movement, mirroring the way he tilted his head, the way he used just the barest hint of pressure, never too much, never too fast.
It was intoxicating.
He broke the kiss gently, but didnāt move away. His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing a little harder now.
āThatās how you kiss with tongue,ā he said, voice husky, still close enough to taste his breath. āControlled. Intentional. Not messy. You listen to the other person.ā
You nodded slowly, dazed. āGot it.ā
You were still breathless when he pulled away.
Seungminās hand lingered against your jaw for just a second longer than necessary, before he finally dropped it like it burned him. He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair, and shifted back a bitānot far, just enough to pretend like there was still space between you.
āThatās, uhā¦ā His voice cracked slightly. He tried again. āThatās pretty much it for Lesson Two.ā
You could feel your heart pounding. Your lips were still tingling. And somewhere deep in your stomach, something uncoiled. Something bold.
You stared at him for a beat, and he avoided your gaze, blinking down at the floor like it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the room.
And then, softly:
āCan I try?ā
He looked up fast.
āWhat?ā
You wet your lips. āCan I try it again? Initiate this time. I want to see if I learned anything. I mean⦠if thatās okay.ā
There was a flicker of something in his eyesāpanic? surprise? hope? He swallowed hard, his Adamās apple visibly bobbing.
āIāuhā¦ā he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly thrown off his axis. āYeah. I mean. Sure. Yeah. Thatāsāyou can. Itās just a lesson. Itās fine.ā
But he didnāt sound fine.
His usual sarcasm was gone, replaced with something unsure, guarded. You could tellāSeungmin was fighting a war in his own head. Trying to stay still. Neutral. Unaffected.
You leaned in slowly, giving him the same caution heād given you. Testing.
His eyes flickered down to your lipsāand this time, they stayed there.
When your mouth brushed his, he inhaled sharply, his body going rigid. But he didnāt stop you.
You kissed himāsoft, slow, learning the curve of his mouth, the way he responded when you tilted your head a little, when you brushed your tongue lightly against his.
You felt itāhimātense under your touch. Like he was holding back everything in him not to grab your waist, not to pull you in closer, not to deepen it like he wanted to.
Because this was a lesson, right?
Not a real kiss.
Except it felt real.
Too real.
And when you pulled back, just a littleājust enough to breatheāhis eyes were still closed, lips parted like he didnāt want it to end.
You whispered, āHowād I do?ā
He exhaled shakily. āDangerously well.ā
Your heart skipped.
And then, he opened his eyes, looking right at you.
āThis was a mistake,ā he said, barely above a whisper.
But he didnāt move away.
Neither did you.
Because even if he said it was a mistakeāhe wasnāt stopping it.
āø»
You stared at yourself in the mirror.
Lips glossed. Heart pounding. Breath shakyābut this time, not from nerves.
You were thinking about him.
Not your date.
Not the guy waiting for you in the living room with his too-white sneakers and perfectly tousled hair.
You were thinking about Seungmin.
Again.
You shoved the thought away.
This isnāt about him. This is about me. About confidence. About finally doing this.
So you walked out, smile practiced, and let yourself fall into the rhythm of the eveningāsmall talk, laughter, the occasional graze of a hand that shouldāve made your stomach flip but⦠didnāt.
You kept waiting for the click. That moment where your heart would stutter, where your skin would buzz like it had in Seungminās room. But it never came.
Still, when the night started winding down, he leaned in, eyes warm and expectant.
And you didnāt pull back.
You let him kiss you.
His lips were soft. His hand found your waist. He moved like he knew what he was doing.
But the second his tongue brushed yoursā
Nothing.
No butterflies. No sparks. No breath stolen from your lungs.
Just⦠static.
You tried to match him. Tried to remember what Seungmin taught you. The rhythm. The pressure. The way heād murmured āGood. Relax your lips.ā
You tried to feel anything.
But it felt like going through the motions of a dance you didnāt want to be performing.
The guy pulled back, smiling. āYouāre a really good kisser.ā
You blinked. āOh. Thanks.ā
You smiled too, because you were supposed to. Because this was what youād wanted, wasnāt it?
But inside, your brain was in freefall.
Why didnāt it feel the same?
Why did it feel like I was kissing a stranger when I was trying to recreate something that came from someone Iāve known forever?
You excused yourself shortly after.
And the moment the door shut behind you, you leaned back against it, heart racing for all the wrong reasons.
Because now you knew the truth.
Youād kissed someone else.
But all you could think about was Seungmin.
The way heād held your face.
The way his breath hitched when you kissed him back.
The way your name had sounded on his lips when he whispered, āDangerously well.ā
And worst of all?
You realized it wasnāt just a lesson.
Not for you.
āø»
You were curled up on the couch, pretending to scroll on your phone while Seungmin half-watched something on TV. Just like old times. Normal. Comfortable.
Except it wasnāt.
Because every time your eyes flicked to his profile, every time you caught a glimpse of his fingers drumming against the couch cushion or the way his lips parted slightly in thought, your chest tightened.
You were trying to be chill. So chill.
But your brain was still stuck on that kiss from two nights agoāand the complete lack of anything it made you feel.
And the one that still haunted you every time you closed your eyes.
Seungmin glanced over suddenly, like heād caught you staring.
āSo,ā he said casually, āhowād the date go?ā
You stiffened.
He smirked. āYouāre making that face again.ā
You tried to shrug it off. āIt was⦠fine.ā
āFine?ā he teased, raising an eyebrow. āThatās not very convincing. You kissed him, right?ā
You looked away, heat rushing up your neck. āYeah.ā
āAnd?ā
You didnāt mean to say it.
But it came out before you could stop yourself.
āIt wasnāt the same.ā
The smirk disappeared. His face stilled. āWhat?ā
You swallowed. āI meanāit was fine, technically. Good, even. But it felt⦠off. Like I was doing everything right and still nothing clicked. Like I was kissing him but thinking aboutāā
You cut yourself off.
Shit.
Silence.
Seungmin just stared at you. Eyes unreadable. Chest rising and falling with something you couldnāt name.
You panicked. Backpedaled. āCan Iācan I show you?ā
His brows furrowed. āShow me what?ā
āHow I kissed him. I justāI want to compare, I guess. See if Iām crazy or if it really was that different.ā
His whole body went still. You could feel the tension suddenly pulsing off him like heat.
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
And thenāquietlyāāOkay.ā
You moved closer. Slowly. Carefully.
Your heart was thudding so hard it hurt.
You leaned ināsoft, hesitantāand kissed him. The way you had the guy on the date.
No passion. Just technical. Controlled.
And stillāeven like thisāyour body betrayed you.
Because the second your lips met Seungminās again, everything tilted.
Your fingers twitched. Your breath hitched. Your lips parted without thinking, already chasing more, instinct pulling you in like gravity.
Seungmin didnāt move at first. But thenāhe kissed you back.
Just a little.
Just enough to shatter your nerves.
Because the moment your mouths slid together, it was everything.
Warmth.
Electricity.
The pressure you didnāt know you were holding finally releasing.
You gasped against his mouth, overwhelmed by how different it was. How real. How right.
And thatās when it hit you.
The problem hadnāt been the guy.
It was the connection.
And the only one you wanted it withā¦
Was him.
You pulled back, breathless, lips parted, eyes wide.
Seungmin stared at you like he didnāt know what to do with himself.
You didnāt say anything. Neither did he.
Because now you both knew.
This wasnāt about lessons anymore.
And maybe it never was.
āø»
The silence was deafening.
You were still close enough to feel his breath on your lips, the ghost of the kiss hanging between you like a spark that refused to go out. And Seungmin?
He wasnāt moving.
His jaw was clenched so tight, you could see the tension rippling under his skin. His eyes were locked on yours, dark, stormy, confused as hell. Like he was trying to convince himself this hadnāt just happened. That this wasnāt real.
But it was.
And every second you sat there, not saying a word, the weight of it got heavier.
You could feel it in the way his fingers twitched against his knee. In the way his lips stayed parted like he was still tasting you. In the way his chest rose and fellātoo fast, too uneven.
Your breath caught.
You could practically see the war happening behind his eyes.
And thenā
He lost.
Without a word, without warning, he reached for you.
His hand slid around the back of your neck and he pulled you ināhard, needy, like heād been holding back for weeks and couldnāt anymore.
His mouth crashed into yours, nothing like the slow, calculated kisses from before.
This one was different.
Feverish. Starved. Real.
His lips were hot and rough against yours, his tongue sweeping in deep, hungry, taking what he wanted without hesitation. He kissed you like he meant it. Like heād been dying to. Like heād thought about thisāwanted thisādreamed of this every second since Lesson Two.
His hands werenāt teaching anymore.
They were claiming.
One curled at the base of your neck, the other gripping your waist, dragging you closer, like distance itself was offensive. Your body melted against him without question, instinct kicking in, your hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt as your mouths moved together, in sync, like your bodies had always known each other better than your minds did.
When he finally pulled back, it wasnāt because he wanted to.
It was because he had to.
His forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged, lips swollen.
You could feel his heart pounding through his chest.
And when he spoke, his voice was hoarse, rough, wrecked.
āThatāā he rasped, eyes still closed, āāwas not a lesson.ā
You nodded, unable to speak. Still dazed. Still burning.
āNo more pretending,ā he said.
You didnāt even argue.
Because you didnāt want to pretend anymore, either.
āø»
You didnāt talk about it.
Not the kiss.
Not the way Seungmin kissed you like he was on the edge of burning alive.
Not the way you kissed him back like you wanted to be the one to set him on fire.
The next morning, he was already in his kitchen when you came down, acting like nothing happened. Like he hadnāt dragged you into him and kissed you senseless on the couch just hours earlier.
āWant toast?ā he asked, like his hands hadnāt been on your waist. On your neck. Like his tongue hadnāt been in your mouth.
You blinked. āSure.ā
He nodded. āCool.ā
And that was it.
He didnāt look at you. Not really. Not for longer than a half-second at a time. But his jaw kept clenching. His fingers were tapping the counter like a metronome ticking faster than the silence could fill.
You pretended you didnāt notice.
You pretended the toast was the most interesting thing in the room.
But you could feel itāhis eyes on you when he thought you werenāt looking. Heavy. Hot. Confused.
Days passed like that. Tiptoeing. Dancing around the moment like it wasnāt still echoing in every glance, every brush of your arms when you walked too close.
And thenāfinallyāhe cracked.
You came over after he texted you and found him in his room, pacing.
āCan we talk?ā he asked, voice tight.
You nodded. Heart pounding.
He didnāt meet your eyes.
āThat kiss⦠it shouldnāt have happened.ā
Your throat tightened. āOh.ā
āIt justāit got out of hand. That was my bad. I wasnāt thinking. I shouldnāt haveāā He broke off, swallowing hard. āWeāre best friends. Youāreāyouāre not supposed to beā¦ā
His eyes finally lifted to yours.
And froze.
Youād been sitting cross-legged on his bed, shorts too short, one of his hoodies swallowing your frame. It shouldāve been harmless. Shouldāve.
But it wasnāt.
Not to him.
You werenāt doing anything. Just breathing. Just being.
But in that moment, Seungmin saw you differently. Felt you differently.
And something inside him snapped.
He stepped closer.
āYouāre not supposed to beā¦ā he repeated, voice lower now. Tighter. āSo fucking hot.ā
Your breath caught.
His eyes dropped to your lips.
He clenched his fists like he was holding himself back with everything he had. āYouāre my best friend. Youāre not supposed to look at me like that.ā
āLike what?ā you whispered.
He stared at youāeyes dark, full of conflict, full of want.
āLike you want me to ruin you.ā
Your stomach flipped. Heat bloomed low in your belly.
āI donāt want to want this,ā he said, each word shaking loose from his throat like it hurt to admit. āBut fuck, I canāt stop thinking about you.ā
His eyes dropped lower. āAbout that kiss. About your lips. About the sounds you maāā
āSeungmināā
He stepped closer again. āI canāt unsee it. I keep trying to look at you like before. Like just my best friend.ā
His voice cracked.
āBut all I see now is someone I want to devour.ā
You were quiet for a moment.
Seungmin stood in front of youāshoulders tense, chest heaving, eyes blown wide with everything he didnāt want to feel but couldnāt escape.
Heād just said it. All of it.
Every word youād been too afraid to speak out loud.
And that power? That admission?
It made something in you shift.
You reached for himāslow, deliberateāand placed your hand gently on his chest. Felt the frantic beat of his heart beneath your palm.
āIām not trying to ruin us,ā you said softly. āI donāt want to lose you.ā
His jaw flexed. āThen donāt do this.ā
āBut I havenāt even done anything,ā you whispered.
And you watched him break again.
His eyes shut tight like he was trying to will away the image of you sitting there, loose-limbed and unbothered, voice soft and sinful. Like you werenāt right there, fingertips now trailing slowly down the center of his chest.
āSeungmin,ā you said, voice lilting, teasing. āYou think I want you to ruin me?ā
He opened his eyesābarely.
āMaybe I just wanted to know if it was you feeling it too.ā
He swallowed hard, backing up half a step, like distance would protect him.
It wouldnāt.
You followed. Just enough.
āYou kissed me first,ā you reminded him. āAnd you kissed me like you meant it.ā
āDonāt,ā he warned, voice a low growl now.
āWhy?ā you asked, cocking your head. āBecause I liked it?ā
His breath hitched. You saw it.
āBecause Iāve been replaying it in my head every night since?ā You leaned in slightly, just enough for your breath to graze his throat. āBecause the date kiss was nothing compared to you?ā
āStop,ā he hissed, but his hands had curled into fists at his sides. White-knuckled.
You smiledājust the slightest twitch of your lips.
āYou donāt get to say all that and expect me to sit here like it didnāt fuck me up, too.ā
Thenābecause you couldnāt help yourselfāyou reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead, fingers lingering.
āIām not going to kiss you again,ā you whispered. āNot yet.ā
Seungmin exhaled, a sound that was half frustration, half relief, all pain.
āBut Iām not going to pretend I donāt want to.ā
You stepped back. Just one step.
Watched him chase the space you left behind with his eyes, like he hated the distance and needed it all at once.
āGo back to calling me your best friend if you want,ā you said softly, voice like a promise and a threat. āBut you and I both know itās not that simple anymore.ā
And with that, you turned.
Left him standing there.
āø»
Seungmin was spiraling.
He didnāt show it, of course. On the outside, he was calm, composedāmaybe a little quieter than usual. But nothing out of the ordinary.
Except for the way he couldnāt look at you for more than three seconds without losing his grip on reality.
You were ruining him, and you didnāt even seem to realize it.
Or maybe you did.
You had come to his place to stay the weekend like you usually did, nothing out of the ordinary.
You wore his hoodie again that morning. That stupid, oversized hoodie that always used to mean safe and familiar and best friend.
But now?
Now it was just soft fabric stretched over bare legs he couldnāt stop fucking looking at.
Youād bend to grab something off the floor and heād have to look away so fast his neck cracked.
He found you in the kitchen that afternoon humming to yourself, licking a little bit of jam off your thumb.
And he had to leave the room.
Just left, no explanation.
Because his brain? His brain didnāt see his best friend anymore.
His brain saw you on your knees in that hoodie with nothing underneath, lips slick and inviting, waiting for him to cross the damn line again.
He barely spoke to you that whole day. You noticed.
That night, you cornered him.
āYouāre being weird,ā you said, standing in the doorway of his room, arms crossed. āYou wonāt even look at me.ā
āIām notāā He sighed. āIām trying to keep my distance.ā
āWhy?ā
āBecause youāre dangerous now,ā he muttered, finally meeting your gaze.
And the look you gave him?
Sweet. Curious. So fucking inviting.
āIām not trying to mess with you,ā you said softly. āI just⦠I liked what happened. I liked what you said.ā
āThatās the problem.ā
Your head tilted.
He groaned, rubbing a hand through his hair like he was seconds away from combusting.
āI used to see you as this untouchable little idiot who couldnāt even flirt without blushing,ā he muttered.
You smirked. āAnd now?ā
āNow I look at you and all I can think about is pinning you down and making you forget every single lesson we practiced.ā
Your breath hitched. You didnāt expect that.
āSeungmināā
āI dreamt about you last night,ā he said, voice suddenly low. Raw. āAnd I woke up hard as hell and so fucking pissed off because it wasnāt supposed to be like this.ā
You stared.
He took a step toward you.
āYou think itās funny to tease me like this?ā he said, eyes flashing. āWalking around in my clothes, whispering shit to my face, telling me you think about the kiss, then pulling away like youāre not doing anything wrong?ā
Your lips parted.
āIām trying so hard to hold it together, but youāre not helping.ā
And then you smiled. Innocent. Sweet.
āI could help.ā
That was it.
His self-control?
Gone.
Seungmin grabbed the doorframe over your head, caging you in without even touching you.
His voice was a warning and a plea all at once. āIf youāre gonna keep playing with fireā¦ā
You looked up at him, unblinking. āThen what?ā
His jaw tightened.
āThen donāt blame me when I finally burn us both.ā
ā
Sunday nightā¦
It was late.
Too late.
The apartment was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the fridge and the patter of rain outside. Youād both been watching a movie on his laptop in his bedroom, your backs against the headboard, but Seungmin was stiff beside you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the screen like it owed him money.
You didnāt say anything.
Not until you shiftedājust enough that your bare thigh brushed his.
You felt him freeze.
āStill trying to keep your distance?ā you asked, voice low, teasing.
His jaw flexed. āDonāt start.ā
You turned your head, smiling, chin resting on the back of the couch. āWhat if I want to?ā
He didnāt answer.
So you leaned in.
Slowly. Carefully. Eyes never leaving his face.
You were close enough now that you could feel the warmth of his breath, see the way his lashes trembled when your hand ghosted over his wrist.
āHey, Iām not trying to ruin anything,ā you whispered.
āThen stop playing with me.ā
āIām not playing.ā
You moved your hand againāthis time over his chest, fingers tracing the edge of his collarbone through the soft cotton of his shirt.
Seungmin exhaled sharply.
Your touch dropped lower.
And that was it.
He snapped.
One second you were teasing him, and the next?
You were flat on your back, Seungmin hovering over you, hands on either side of your head, eyes wild with something dark and deep and so far from platonic it made your pulse skyrocket.
āYou really want to know what happens if I stop holding back?ā
Your breath caught.
He leaned ināso close your noses brushed. āBecause I donāt think you understand what youāre asking for.ā
You stared up at him, completely still, heart hammering against your ribs.
āI do,ā you whispered.
His lips twitchedāsomething between a smirk and a snarl. āNo, you donāt.ā
Then he kissed you.
Hard.
Nothing gentle. Nothing careful.
This wasnāt a lesson.
This wasnāt even a mistake.
This was everything heād been dying to do wrapped in heat and teeth and hunger. His mouth crashed into yours like it had been waiting for permission for years. And now that he had it?
He wasnāt stopping.
Your fingers clawed at his shirt, dragging him closer, and he groaned into your mouthāa sound that vibrated through you, dark and needy and possessive.
He shifted, pressing his body against yours, and fuckāhe was hard. So hard. You felt it grind against your core, slow and deliberate, and you gasped, breaking the kiss for air.
But Seungmin wasnāt done.
His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm.
āYou donāt know what you do to me,ā he growled. āHow hard itās been trying not to touch you, not to taste youāā
You whimpered, and he groaned, rolling his hips against yours again.
āIs this what you wanted?ā he rasped. āMe like this?ā
āYes,ā you breathed. āSeungmināyes.ā
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, thumb brushing your lower lip.
āYouāre not just gonna be my best friend anymore,ā he whispered. āYouāre gonna be mine.ā
His thumb was still pressed against your bottom lip, his chest rising and falling like he couldnāt catch his breath.
āIām yours,ā you whispered, voice trembling.
That broke something in him.
He kissed you againādeeper this time, slower, but with the kind of hunger that made your head spin. His tongue slipped past your lips, exploring you like he was learning, memorizing, branding every inch.
You moaned into him, and he felt itāgroaned back, like the sound lit something inside him.
His hands slid down your body, pausing at the hem of the hoodieāhis hoodie, still hanging off you like a sin. He pulled it up just enough to touch your waist, thumbs skimming your bare skin.
āYou wore this just to mess with me, didnāt you?ā he murmured against your lips. āKnew what it would do to me?ā
You blinked up at him, breathless. āMaybe.ā
He huffed a laugh, low and dangerous.
āYeah. That tracks.ā
His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them with a quiet urgency. You felt the weight of his hips press between them, and your whole body arched at the contact.
āFuck,ā he muttered, āyou feel too good.ā
His lips returned to your neck, dragging down to your collarbone, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. A claim.
You gasped, nails digging into his back, and he growled against your skin.
āIāve been patient,ā he murmured. āIāve been trying to be good.ā
āBut you donāt want to be good right now,ā you whispered, daring.
āNo,ā he breathed, voice wrecked. āRight now I just want to be bad.ā
Thenāhis hand dipped under the hoodie again, sliding over your stomach, upāupāuntil his fingers brushed the curve of your breast.
You shivered.
āCan I?ā he whispered.
You nodded, too breathless to speak.
He slipped his hand beneath your bra, groaning the moment he felt your skin. His thumb brushed over your nipple, slow and deliberate, watching the way you reactedāhow your hips lifted, how your lips parted.
āYouāre so sensitive,ā he murmured, eyes flicking down. āGod, I barely touched you.ā
You tried to speak, but all that came out was a breathy whimper.
He smirked, then leaned down to kiss the swell of your chest, open-mouthed and filthy.
āI want to take my time,ā he said, every word pressing into your skin. āWant to learn every part of you. What makes you squirm. What makes you beg.ā
You were already there. Already trembling.
His hips ground into yours, slow, delicious friction making your brain go blank.
And thenāhis voice again. Low. Rough.
āLet me take care of you,ā he whispered. āLet me be the one who teaches you everything.ā
You nodded again, breathless, desperate, eyes wide and wild.
āSeungmin, please.ā
His forehead dropped to yours, breathing heavy. āThen donāt stop me now.ā
And just like that, his mouth was on you againākissing, tasting, claimingā
Ready to show you exactly how long heās wanted this.
Exactly how much heād held back.
And how there was no going back now.
His lips were on your neck again, tongue dragging slow, reverent patterns while his hands mapped your body like he was memorizing it cell by cell.
You were panting now, arching into him, needing more.
āStill with me?ā he murmured against your skin, voice thick and low.
You noddedābarely. āPlease.ā
That word. That voice.
He kissed you againāthis time softer, slower, almost reverent. āOkay, baby. Let me take care of you.ā
His fingers dipped beneath your pantiesāfinallyāand when he felt how wet you already were, he groaned.
āFuck. All this for me?ā
You whimpered, cheeks flushed, thighs already trembling from just his touch.
āYouāre so warm,ā he murmured. āSo soft. So ready.ā
His fingers moved gently at firstātesting the waters, dragging through your folds with aching precision, just enough to make your breath hitch.
āRelax,ā he whispered. āJust feel me.ā
He circled your clit with maddening patience, lips never leaving your neck, and your hips bucked instinctively.
āYeah,ā he whispered. āThere you go.ā
Thenāa finger. Slowly easing inside you. You gasped, back arching, and he kissed your cheek.
āJust one for now,ā he soothed. āGotta get you ready.ā
His voiceāsoothing, tenderāwas at complete odds with the way his hand was working you open. He curled his finger just right and you moaned, gripping his wrist.
āThat feel good, sweetheart?ā
You could barely speak, but you nodded, breath caught in your throat.
He added another.
And another.
Soon you were writhing, panting, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in the world. He kissed your lipsāslow, deep, filthyāwhile his fingers fucked you open.
āI want you to remember this,ā he breathed. āEvery second. Every touch.ā
You were soaked now, hips moving against his hand, whimpering his name over and over like a prayer.
And when he pulled his fingers out, you whined at the lossāuntil you saw the way he licked them clean, eyes locked on yours.
āYou taste so good,ā he said. āCanāt wait to fuck you and have it all over my cock.ā
You shivered.
He reached for his sweats, pulling them down, and your breath caught when he revealed himself.
Thick. Hard. Heavy.
Bigger than you expected.
He noticed your reaction and chuckled, a low, sinful sound.
āIāll go slow,ā he promised. āIām gonna take my time.ā
He lined himself up, pressing the tip against your entrance, and waited.
āReady?ā
āYes,ā you whispered. āSeungmināplease.ā
And with one slow, careful thrust, he pushed into you.
Your whole world snapped.
He filled you, inch by inch, your walls stretching around him, and you gaspedāfull. So full.
He groaned, burying his face in your neck.
āYouāre so tight,ā he growled. āSo fucking perfect.ā
He stayed still, letting you adjust, kissing your shoulder, whispering praise into your skin.
And when you finally moved your hipsāgiving him the okayāhe started to thrust.
Slow. Deep.
Each stroke dragging against your most sensitive spot, each one pulling little moans from your lips.
āYouāre doing so good,ā he whispered. āTaking me so well.ā
Your hands clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist as he rocked into you, slowly building a rhythm that had your toes curling.
But thenāyou rolled your hips.
And Seungmin snapped.
āShit,ā he cursed. āYou want it harder?ā
You nodded, desperate.
He grabbed your thighs, spreading you wider, and slammed into you.
You cried out, stars dancing in your vision as he fucked youāproperly fucked youāhis grip bruising, his breath ragged.
āThis what you wanted?ā he growled. āMe ruining you? Making sure no one else gets to touch you like this?ā
āYes,ā you whimpered. āOnly youāonly you.ā
He lost it.
His pace turned brutal, hips snapping into yours with every thrust, and all you could do was take it.
He reached between your bodies, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing tight circles until your body clenched.
āCome for me,ā he whispered. āCome on, baby. Let me feel it.ā
And you didāwith a cry of his name, your whole body trembling as you shattered beneath him.
He fucked you through it, chasing his own high, moaning your name like it was salvation.
And when he cameādeep inside you, hips pressed hard to yoursāyou felt it.
All of it.
The heat. The weight. The absolute claim.
You got it.
Letās take it homeāsoft, sweet, utterly wrecked but in the best way possible. No more pretending. No more lines.
Just Seungmin and you, tangled in sheets and breath and something dangerously close to love.
āø»
The room was quiet.
The only sound was your breathingāslow, heavy, uneven. The aftershocks still rolled through you in waves, little shivers making your muscles twitch as Seungmin collapsed onto his forearms above you, chest heaving.
You stayed like that for a moment.
Still joined.
Still trembling.
Still barely believing what just happened.
And then his forehead dropped to yours.
āYou okay?ā he whispered, voice raw. āDid I hurt you?ā
Your fingers found his hair, soft and messy and damp with sweat. āNo,ā you whispered back. āYou were perfect.ā
He sighedārelief, guilt, and something else all tangled up in one sound.
āI didnāt mean for it to go that far,ā he murmured. āNot tonight. I justāonce you started touching me like that Iāā He broke off, lips brushing your cheek. āI lost it.ā
You smiled, turning your head to catch his mouth in a gentle kiss. āI wanted it.ā
His eyes flicked openāwide, dark, and full of something he was too scared to name. āYeah?ā
You nodded, thumb brushing along his jaw. āI wanted you.ā
His whole body softened.
He kissed you againāslow, warm, with none of the hunger from earlier, just something quiet and vulnerable. When he pulled out, he moved carefully, like you were something precious, something fragile.
And maybe you were.
He cleaned you up without a word, stealing one of his old shirts from the floor and tugging it over your head with the softest smile youād ever seen on him.
Then he climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms, tucking you right under his chin like it was instinct. Like youād always belonged there.
Your fingers traced lazy lines across his chest, your legs tangled with his under the sheets.
It was comfortable.
Safe.
But it was new, too. Raw. And real.
You could feel the way his fingers kept twitching where they rested on your hip, like he wasnāt sure if he was allowed to hold you like this now. Like maybe he was still scared heād crossed a line he couldnāt uncross.
So you whispered, āSeungmin?ā
āYeah?ā
You looked up at him. āWeāre not pretending this didnāt happen, right?ā
He stilled.
Thenāslowlyāhis lips curved.
āNo,ā he said softly. āWeāre not.ā
āGood,ā you whispered.
He pressed a kiss to your temple. āBut I need you to know something.ā
Your heart jumped. āWhat?ā
āThat wasnāt just sex for me,ā he said. āThat wasnāt just⦠helping a friend. That was me giving you everything Iāve been holding back.ā
You swallowed hard.
āAnd I donāt want it to be a one-time thing,ā he added. āNot if you donāt.ā
You didnāt even hesitate.
āI donāt.ā
He exhaledāshaky, like youād just lifted a thousand-pound weight off his chest.
āThen I guess weāre not just best friends anymore,ā he said with a grin.
You smiled. āGuess not.ā
He tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer until your head was on his chest, your body curled perfectly into his.
āGo to sleep,ā he whispered. āIāve got you.ā
And you did.
For the first time in forever, you fell asleep with a full heartāwarm, safe, hisāwrapped up in the arms of the boy who taught you how to kiss, and ended up showing you what love feels like instead.
need to wear a collar while riding seungmin and have him call me a good girl š¤¤
ooooo ohhhhh god.
warnings for below the cut: dom!seungmin, sub(brat)!reader, leashes, collars, established relationship, reader is called puppy (and a brat), lowkey dacryphilia, also crying that is NOT sexy (reader experiences a near-accident and cries as a result of the endorphins but seungmin lets her ride it out), pet play, seungmin is written as aloof, but please know he cares about reader! (mean!dom doesnāt mean uncaring!!!), uh⦠honestly this is kinda tame for what it is?
Seungmin thinks youāre cute when you struggle.
Inherently, itās not mean. He thinks itās adorable when you canāt reach the top shelves and have to ask for his help, or anything of the sort; he fights a mad case of cuteness aggression every day. Though itās not always or even automatically mean, the fact that he thinks youāre cute while struggling in this instance is. Here you are ā struggling to stay upright ā and heās amused, watching you lift and drop your hips in an attempt to ride him.
The collar around your neck jingles each time your ass meet Seungminās thighs. The sound of it would be embarrassing if you were less focused on your task. As it is, you donāt necessarily want to get distracted or mess up, not again; youāve already lost the use of your hands tonight. Normally youād plant your hands on Seungminās chest for stability, but you got a little carried away earlier during the foreplay and as a result, your wrists lie cuffed together against the small of your back.
Perhaps youād also be pouting if you could stop moaning, but you canāt. Instead, you settle for pleading, teary eyes in hopes that Seungmin will stop and take it easy on you. Youāre aware that itās not that simple though; watching you cry is sort of what gets your boyfriend off in the first place. Lost in your thoughts, you slip on the upward and your body tilts off kilter. You can feel the way your eyes widen in shock, but before you can screech, Seungmin quickly makes a harsh tug against the chain in his fist ā the one attached to the o-ring in the center of your neck. In response, you choke slightly, but your body stops falling, forced to stay upright lest you end up asphyxiating yourself.
Youāre left whining, panting, the first few real tears falling from your eyes as the rush of adrenaline from nearly falling catches up with you. Seungmin clucks his tongue but says nothing, eyebrow raising when your little whines turn into ugly sobs. His dick kicks where itās pressed against you, but heās nice enough not to draw attention to it. He does let his hand smooth along your thigh as a means of comfort, waiting to see if youāll safeword out. Contrary to how it would appear, Seungmin ā though definitely mean ā is not a sadist, nor is he inconsiderate of your needs.
āSo,ā he starts, once your ugly sobs have calmed down, āyou said you didnāt need my help, huh? And howās that working out for ya?ā
āM-Min,ā you croak, tears still leaking from your eyes.
āYouāre such a big girl though, right? Puppy can do it all by herself.ā
āSeungmin, āā
āAht, wrong s-word, baby. Try again.ā
āS-Sorry,ā you sniffle, āāM sorry.ā
āI know you are,ā he hums, winding the chain around his fist until youāre bent in half, face level with his.
He kisses your lips and cheeks, free hand reaching smooth your hair back, almost like a pet. You press into it, soaking up the affection. He laughs at your puppy-like behavior, indulging you briefly to make sure you donāt drop. Your brainās a little fuzzy, but your body knows what to expect, so youāre helpful as Seungminās hands maneuver you around, successfully fitting his cock right back inside your cunt. Your mewl at being full again is involuntary, coaxed out of your throat by the slick slide of Seungmin against the tender walls of your cunt.
āYouāre a brat,ā he says fondly, wrapping you up in his arms, ābut youāre my brat, yeah?ā
āY-yeah, yours.ā
āGood girl, puppy,ā he coos, letting you bury your face in his neck as he fucks up into you, punching nonsensical sounds out of your throat with each thrust.
Tags: Mafia au, smut, bodyguard, guns, seduction, wall sex, unprotected sex (again i need to seek help), dom leeknow
Word Count: 2.7k
Summary: Your father hired Lee Know to protect youānot rail you into the kitchen counter like a man possessed. Unfortunately, youāve always had a thing for bad decisions and pretty men with guns.
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
He stood at your bedroom door like he always didāarms crossed, eyes forward, jaw locked in that annoyingly perfect angle that made him look carved from stone.
Lee Know. Your fatherās āmost loyal enforcer.ā
Or, as you liked to call him: Mr. Emotionally Constipated with the Arms of a Greek God.
You grinned.
Tonightās outfit? A silky robe, just barely tied.
No bra. No shame.
You padded across the room toward the door, pretending not to notice the way his eyes flicked to the deep V of your cleavage before snapping back to the wall across from him.
āHey, Minho.ā
You never called him that.
He hated it. Which made you love it.
He didnāt look at you. āItās Lee Know to you.ā
āMmm. You sure about that?ā You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms just enough to push your tits up a little more. āWeāve known each other a week. Youāre practically my emotional support assassin.ā
āIām here to protect you,ā he said, voice clipped. āThatās all.ā
āThen why do you keep looking at my legs?ā
He blinked once. Twice.
āIām trained to be aware of everything in my surroundings.ā
You gave him a slow, wicked smile. āSo youāre very aware of my legs, then?ā
Nothing. Not a twitch.
But you didnāt miss the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.
āø»
You tested him again the next night.
He was seated at the kitchen counter, cleaning his gun. You walked in wearing one of your fatherās old oversized button-downs and absolutely nothing underneath.
āOops,ā you said sweetly when the hem lifted just enough as you reached up for a glass. āHope this isnāt distracting.ā
He didnāt even look up. āWear pants.ā
āBut Iām in my house,ā you pouted. āYouāre the guest here, baby.ā
That earned a pause.
He looked up, eyes sharp. āDonāt call me that.ā
You leaned in close. āWhy not? Scared you might like it?ā
A long stare.
No answer.
But the way he gripped his gun a little tighter said everything.
āø»
By the third night, you were bored.
So you sat on the couch in the living room, thighs spread just a little wider than necessary in your tiny sleep shorts, licking a popsicle like it owed you money.
Lee Know was standing across the room, pretending not to watch.
You moaned.
āMm⦠so goodā¦ā
His jaw tensed.
You bit the tip of the popsicle and let it melt down your fingers. āStickyā¦ā
He finally turned.
āGo to bed.ā
You smiled sweetly. āMake me.ā
For a secondājust one secondāyou saw it. The flash of something dark in his eyes. Something dangerous.
Then it was gone.
He turned back around.
You bit back a grin.
You were going to break him.
āø»
āIām not some delicate little doll,ā you said, arms crossed as you stood in front of Lee Know on the private gym mat.
He looked completely unimpressed. Black compression shirt hugging his chest, sleeves rolled, cargo pants sitting low on his hips. āYou get kidnapped twice in a month and your dad thinks that means you need training.ā
You smirked. āYou saying you donāt want to pin me down, Mr. Bodyguard?ā
He didnāt answer.
Just stepped forward. Way too close. One swift movement and your wrist was in his grip, your back hitting the mat in a blur.
You gasped.
His body hovered over yours, one knee between your thighs, palm flat on your chestānot groping. Controlling. Holding you down like it was second nature.
āYouāre dead,ā he said.
You looked up at him, breath shallow. āIs this how you treat all your clients?ā
āOnly the ones who try to seduce me in silk robes and lick popsicles like theyāre dicks.ā
Your jaw dropped.
He smirked.
So he had been watching.
You shifted beneath him, pressing your thigh against his. āSo what now? You gonna kill me again?ā
Lee Know didnāt move.
Didnāt blink.
But his eyes droppedāslowlyāfrom your face to your mouth⦠then lower. You could feel the tension radiating off him like a furnace.
He was so close. So firm. So restrained.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
āThis is exactly why I shouldnāt touch you.ā
And thenāhe pushed off you and stood.
Just like that.
Leaving you breathless on the mat and soaked.
ā
Three hours later, gunfire broke out.
It wasnāt a drill.
Your fatherās estate was under attack and Lee Know had you thrown into the back of a black SUV, barking orders into his comms while gripping your hand like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Now you were in a cold, dark safehouse on the edge of the city. Just the two of you. You were still in your thin tank top and sleep shorts from earlier, blood humming with adrenaline.
Lee Know paced the room like a caged animal.
āWhy arenāt you wearing more clothes?ā he snapped.
You laughed, breathless. āSorry, didnāt get the ābulletproof chicā memo. I was too busy being evacuated under gunfire.ā
He turned. His eyes dropped to your thighs. Stayed there.
You didnāt move.
He took a step forward.
āI shouldāve left you with someone else,ā he muttered. āI canāt think straight around you.ā
Your heart pounded. āThen donāt think.ā
Then you were against the wall. Just like that.
His hand slid between your legs, pressing firmly against your core through the thin fabric.
āYou like this?ā he hissed. āFlirting with danger? Teasing me until I lose my goddamn mind?ā
You moaned. āYesāyes, fuck, I wanted you to snapāā
He pushed your shorts aside, fingers slipping through your folds, cursing under his breath when he felt how wet you already were.
āYouāre soaked.ā
āIāve been soaked,ā you gasped, clinging to him. āEver since you pinned me to that matāā
He silenced you with his mouth on your neck and two fingers sliding inside you in one slow, deep thrust. You cried out, hips jerking, the cold wall at your back nothing compared to the heat of him in front of you.
His other hand clamped over your mouth. āQuiet. They might still be listening.ā
The idea that danger was right outsideāthat someone could burst through the doorāonly made it hotter.
He fucked you with his fingers like he knew your body better than you did. Curling, pumping, dragging out desperate little gasps with every movement.
āYou donāt even know what youāre playing with,ā he growled in your ear. āYou think seducing your bodyguard is just for fun? You wanna see what happens when I stop holding back?ā
You came hardābiting into his shoulder to keep quiet, legs shaking, walls fluttering around his fingers.
He held you through it.
Then slowlyāso slowlyāhe pulled back.
Your breathing was ragged. Your legs barely held you up.
He didnāt touch you again.
Didnāt even look at you.
āø»
You sat in silence for what felt like hours.
He was across the room now, back against the wall, fists clenched. The air was heavy with guilt and leftover lust.
āā¦We shouldnāt have done that,ā he said, voice low.
You didnāt answer.
Because you knew he was right.
And stillāyour body was still aching. Still pulsing with the echo of his fingers inside you.
āI canāt protect you if Iām thinking about fucking you.ā
You looked at him and whispered:
āThen maybe you should just fuck me and get it over with.ā
He looked at you like youād just pulled the pin on a grenade.
Lee Knowās jaw flexed, a vein twitching in his neck as your words hung in the airādangerous and impossible to ignore.
āDonāt,ā he warned, voice strained like he was barely holding himself together.
But you didnāt stop. Couldnāt. Something in you liked the way he looked at youālike you were both the problem and the answer.
āYouāve already touched me,ā you said, stepping forward slowly. āAlready had your fingers inside me. Whatās one more mistake?ā
He closed his eyes for a moment, like he was praying for strengthāor forgiveness. Then he pushed off the wall, stalking toward you in two long strides.
You gasped when your back hit the cold surface behind you, his hands braced on either side of your head. His breath hitched near your ear, voice barely more than a growl.
āThis is a bad idea.ā
You tilted your chin up, breath shallow. āThen make it worse.ā
And that was it. The match to gasoline.
He crashed his mouth against yours, all teeth and tongue, like he was punishing you for wanting thisāpunishing himself for needing it. His hands found your hips, gripping tight, dragging your body flush against his as he ground his thigh between your legs.
You moaned into the kiss, arms wrapping around his shoulders, nails digging into the muscle beneath his shirt. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, pinning you to the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist.
āYouāre a fucking brat,ā he muttered, lips against your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. āDriving me insane on purpose.ā
You whimpered, fingers threading through his hair. āSo do something about it.ā
He didnāt need to be told twice.
His mouth was on you like heād starved for itālike the past week of resisting had built into a pressure so unbearable, now he could only consume. Teeth grazed the column of your throat, then bit down hard enough to leave a mark.
āYou wanted this?ā he growled, voice like gravel as he pulled back to look at you, pupils blown wide. āThen you take it.ā
You gasped as he turned, still holding you up, and threw you onto the small kitchen counter behind him. The edge dug into your thighs, cold against your overheated skin, but you didnāt have time to complaināhis mouth was already back on yours, hands tugging at your shirt like it offended him.
Fabric tore. You didnāt care.
He shoved your bra up with one hand and sucked a bruising kiss over your breast, tongue dragging over your nipple before he bit. You cried out, fingers tangled in his hair, and he groaned like the sound went straight to his cock.
āYouāve been teasing me for days,ā he hissed, dropping to his knees in front of the counter. āWalking around in those tiny fucking shorts, bending over on purposeāā
You barely had time to moan his name before he yanked your underwear down and buried his face between your thighs. His tongue was ravenous, licking into you with a low growl like you were the only thing that could satisfy him.
Your legs shook. He held them open.
And when you cameāgrinding into his face, thighs squeezing his headāhe looked up at you with slick lips and dark eyes and said, āWeāre not done.ā
He lifted you again, carried you like a doll, and slammed you onto the coffee table. It cracked under you.
You didnāt care.
He pulled his shirt off, chest heaving, hair wild, cock straining against his pants. āIām going to fuck you on every surface in this goddamn safe house.ā
āThen stop talking,ā you panted. āAnd do it.ā
His laugh was dark and dangerous. āYou asked for this.ā
He yanked his pants down, lined himself up, and when he slammed into youādeep, thick, punishingāyou screamed. He didnāt slow down. Didnāt give you a second to adjust. He just took.
The table groaned beneath you. So did you.
He bent over you, one hand gripping your throat, thumb stroking your jaw. āThis what you wanted, baby?ā
āY-YesāfuckāLee Knowāā
He snapped his hips. āSay my name.ā
āMinho!ā
āThatās better.ā
And then he flipped you over.
The coffee table had barely survived the first roundālegs splintered, your body a mess of sweat and come and aching thighs. But Minho wasnāt finished. Not even close.
He dragged you by the wrist, still naked, still panting, across the living room toward the tiny kitchen sink. The sirens were wailing faintly in the distance now, maybe backup, maybe enemies. You didnāt care. Neither did he.
āYou think this is a game?ā he snarled, shoving your front against the counter, your hands splaying on the cool metal of the sink.
āI was bored,ā you whined, arching your back for him. āYou were no funāā
SMACK.
His palm cracked across your ass so loud it echoed.
āYou call this no fun?ā
Another thrustāhard and deepāand you choked on your breath, eyes rolling as he gripped your hips and used you, hips snapping forward like he was claiming what had always been his.
āI was protecting you,ā he hissed into your ear. āKeeping you alive. And all you could think about was getting me to fuck you like a little slut?ā
You whimpered, walls clenching around him, making him groan as he fucked you deeper.
āYou are a slut,ā he growled, hand snaking around to rub fast, ruthless circles on your clit. āMy bratty little mafia princess. Couldnāt keep her legs closed for five goddamn minutes.ā
You came with a sob, body collapsing over the counter, and he didnāt stopāhe just kept fucking you through it like he owned you. Like nothing outside that safe house mattered.
The walls rattled with distant explosions. A rumble of danger shook the floor.
He didnāt flinch.
You gasped, āWhat if they find us?ā
His hand tangled in your hair, yanked your head back. āLet them hear you.ā
He pulled out, only to flip you around againālifted you onto the counter this time, angled your legs open like a man possessed.
āIāll protect you,ā he said, voice feral. āEven if I have to kill every last one of them. But right now, Iām going to ruin you.ā
And he did.
He fucked you right there, on the kitchen counter, while chaos raged outside. One hand on your neck, the other gripping your thigh, pounding into you like he didnāt care if the world burned.
And stillāstillāhe wasnāt finished.
Later, he threw you onto the couch, legs dangling over the side, pushing your knees to your chest.
āThis is for every time you walked around in silk with no bra.ā
Thrust.
āFor every time you touched me and pretended it meant nothing.ā
Thrust.
āFor every night I had to jerk off in the shower like some fucking teenager while you moaned my name in the next room.ā
You were crying nowāoverstimulated, fucked out, and loving every second. He kissed you for the first time that nightāreally kissed you. Deep and messy, tongue claiming yours as he gave you everything, took everything in return.
Eventually, when your body couldnāt take anymore, he finally carried you to the bed.
Slower now. Gentler. Still rough, but differentālike the danger had dulled, and only desire remained.
He sank into you again, forehead pressed to yours.
āIām gonna own you,ā he whispered.
You nodded weakly. āIāve always been yours.ā
āø»
You woke up to the scent of him.
Sweat. Sex. Gunpowder still clinging to his clothes somewhere on the floor.
Your thighs were sore. Bruised. Used. You didnāt care. You felt claimedāwrecked in the best way.
Minho lay beside you, chest rising and falling steadily, one arm thrown lazily over your waist like he hadnāt just rearranged your insides six different ways across the safe house.
You smiled.
And then you heard it.
Click.
The sound of a gun being cocked.
Minhoās eyes snapped open.
āStay here,ā he muttered, already on his feet. Still naked. Still glowing with that post-fuck heat, but now he was all bodyguard againāsharp, lethal, dangerous.
He grabbed his weapon from the nightstand, racked a round like it was second nature, and glanced back at youāeyes wild but focused.
āIf I come back covered in blood,ā he growled, āyouāre letting me finish what I started.ā
You blinked. āYou already didālikeāfour timesāā
His smirk was evil. āNot nearly enough.ā
Gun in hand, he stalked toward the front door, every muscle in his back flexing, footsteps silent. You didnāt even try to stop the shiver that ran down your spine.
Minutes passed.
A shot rang out. Then another. A scream. A thud.
You sat there, naked, wrapped in a blanket, thighs pressed together, still aching.
When Minho came back, blood splattered across his chest and cheek, eyes gleaming, you swore your soul left your body.
āAll clear,ā he said, dropping the gun to the floor. āNow where were we?ā
Your jaw dropped. āAre you kidding meāā
He stalked toward you, grabbing your ankle and yanking you down the bed with a wicked grin.
š¦ : Greek god! Yang Jeongin x implied! fem. reader
TROPE. Greek mythology! au, Son (unofficial since Artemis swore to celibacy) of Artemis! au, mortal! reader au, slightly sheltered Jeongin (heās so respectful i wanna cry), fluff fluff fluff, best friends to lovers, slight angst, so soft
WORD COUNT. 8.7k words ā 40min read
WARNINGS. usage of arrows, dubcon kiss, mention/heavily focused on greek gods/goddesses, mention of animal bones, inclusion of a venomous snake, playful fighting
AUG'S NOTES. this wait has been going on for too long! so glad to finally present this fic, it holds a whole lot of my heart in it :) pleas enjoy!!
PLAYLIST.
SYNOPSIS. Since you were a child, both tales and encounters with the children of the gods became a prevalent pattern in life. Friendship with Hermesā son, those early morning by the water allowing interaction with Poseidonās child. And yet, your intrigue upon hearing word of the unofficial offspring of Artemis, sired under her teachings and oaths in a forest most avoided drew you infinitely closer. So what happens when curiosity gets the best of you?
or alternatively :
How quickly one can turn from a stranger to a beloved.
āIā I forfeit!ā
Shouts Han, smacking the skin of your thigh repeatedly for you to loosen your death-like grip around his head.
Either of you furiously tussle on the muddy ground of Sokchoās eastern coastline as if routine, where utter delight in each of the messenger-to-beās visits end in a few new bruises and a judgemental eyeball from your father when you trudge through the door.
With him being the son of Hermes, your daily visits from Han Jisung had been shortened to weekly once he became more and more occupied taking up his role as the messenger godās offspring, so you truly give it your all each time his face comes into view.
Which usually means bowling the boy over the moment his winged-shoes touch ground.
Of course, all in good fun. Youāve known the kid since you were a child, listening with wonder as he explained all about his life in Olympus, his father, Hermes, his abilities.
Upon first glance he appears a normal, awkward teenager, but gold coloration swimming within his irises and superhuman reflexes, stamina, and speed, you knew better than to believe that.
Luckily, he gives you a fair fight whenever you spar, ensuring no foul play leads to unfair victories.Ā
Meaning: you win, every time.
Breathing in a huge gasp, the both of you collapse onto sodden soil, chests heaving to replace expelled air. Of course, getting kicked in the stomach and returning the favor with a solid punch to his jaw didnāt help with that factor.
āThree⦠Three weeks,ā You pant, the equally grimy back of your hand swiping strands of hair from a sweaty forehead.Ā
Han mindlessly grunts from below you, body refusing to move even a mere centimeter.
āYeah yeah, I get it. Iām nothing against you, rub it in.ā
You croak a laugh at the sheer exasperation in his tone, accustomed to your feigned gloating antics.
āNoā Thatās not it Sungie, I just wanted to say.ā Using your arms to hold you up while surveying the similarly battered man whose head rests on your stomach, you tip his chin upwards with a finger, forcing those irrevocably hypnotizing eyes to meet yours.
Never sunken, tired.
Han Jisung was a marvel.
And for a moment, he begins to think youāve grown soft after these years.
āI still won.ā
Nevermind.
Whining with dismay, he takes the hand you extend out to him upon standing, earning a playful smack to the shoulder whilst collecting the shoes so carelessly discarded up by the dunes.
Feet sinking into the warm sand below, youāre offered a moment to spare a glance back to the lapsing waters, tumbling over themselves with morningās ferocious tides.Ā
This is the only time you usually get to see him, and as if a mere memory, heāll disappear all the same.
Townspeople were never fond of children of the gods. They spoke of mischief, ill-doing in response to their appearances.Ā
A long-lived grudge, one from ancestor after ancestor. And yet, most chose to live ignorant to the swirling deities all around. Those more gracious sunny days when someone mentions Helios, or the subdued waves compared to that of merciless plunder ashore by Poseidon.
As a result, Han never stayed long, leading you to arrive by this peculiarly isolated portion of the beach at dawn for his quick stops before flying off.
You didnāt mind. It was worth it in the end.Ā
Early wake-ups, that is.
Arriving randomly and becoming a part of you habitually. Like an old cut turning into a scar, commemorating happenings of the past.
It didnāt take your father long to grow curious over what his daughter rushed off to every day. And so, about a year ago, you told him. All about Hanās sudden presence, then developing into a friendāa best friend.
Fortunately, he wasnāt upset in the slightest. Initially disbelieving, perhaps, but not angry nor discontented.
In fact, the man seemed more interested than anything, asking you abundant questions about what he looked like, his features, aptitude.
You didnāt blame him, for it wasnāt every day news of an interaction with the ancient bloodline was spoken of.
Instead, you indulged in those child-like curiosities just as avidly as he inquired, resulting in frenzied conversation at the dinner table for a multitude of hours that night.
āJisung!āĀ
Having called his name after the harsh knock back into reality, you fish through your pockets before he leaves in recollection of something youād been wanting to give him.
The boyās face deadpans, obviously awaiting another one of your tricks.
āIf you flick me off, Iām never coming back.ā
Fretful shuffling dulls his mumble inaudible, merely humming in acknowledgment and successfully clutching the metal between your index and thumb after panicked searching.
A pin, like that attached to tote bags, jeans.Ā
āFor you to put on your bag, so you can think of me all the time.āĀ
The wink of yours causes him to wrinkle his nose and stick out his tongue at you, and you canāt help your smile from growing bigger and bigger the longer he investigates the apparent pin youāve placed in his palm.
āIs this⦠a pigeon?ā
Out of all the birds youāve been teaching him about in your realm, he had to pick the most pitiful one.
āNo! We studied this one! Itās a hawk, yāknow since youāre kind of like a bird?ā Flapping your arms to sell the idea, he huffs in exasperation, nonetheless fitting the pin to his satchel overflowing with envelopes.
āAlright alright.ā Laughing at the pout tugging at his lips, itās almost instinctive when you press a sugary sweet kiss to his cheek, soaked up gleefully by Hermesā son like always.
Han Jisung is very much adoring of your affection. Frankly, any affection overall.
āThink itās about time you get going, delivery boy.ā
Flying into your arms (both figuratively and literally), he places his own kiss to your opposing cheek, grinning that irritably charming grin ceaselessly worn.
Guessing what heāll say next comes easily, but you still entertain the remark anyway.
āNow our kisses complete each other!ā He predictably exclaims, beginning to levitate as the miniature wings on his sneakers beat tirelessly. āSee you soon Y/N! Stay safe!!ā
Waving in response while he drifts further and further into the atmosphere, you wait until his figure is officially gone to move, stepping toward the dock. This way, you can secure the best view of the sunrise peering above clouds without any interruptions.Ā
Ideal.
Truthfully, it never irked you being a mortal amongst your assortment of acquaintances.
You enjoyed it, actually.Ā
Freedom without responsibility to save from evil left you plenty of time to explore, to exist. Not that you didnāt respect them, but the experience seemed too tasking for your liking.
āBack again?ā
Speaking of acquaintances.
More specifically speaking of Poseidon as a pair of callousedāthough gentleāhands fasten around your calves dangling off the dockās edge, dragged into the chilly depths below before you can reply by none other than Chan, or, using his birth name, Christopher Bahng.
Son of Poseidon.
Ironic.
Not to mention are there any daughters of the gods..? Jeesh.
Anyway.
You half expected him to tap your shoulder and say hello when hearing him approach from behind as he normally did, the creaking in the dockās wooden panels enough indication your friend was present on most occasions.
Although unlike Han Jisung, Chris was sporadic in his visits. An old friend from school, he chose to keep his identity a secret, allowing the eccentric father of his to care for the seas while he led a human life teaching kids how to swim at your townās aquatic center.
Upon finding you speaking to Han in his natural form, a year or so ago, the man eventually found ease in your company as well, comfortable revealing himself and oftentimes showing up to simply converse without turtle necks or high-collared swimsuits concealing the set of gills right below his ears.
In actuality, a part of you was happy he had to hide his gillsāmeaning that swoon-worthy mop of curly blond hair could grow out, curling behind his ears and furling into wild strands atop his head.Ā
It didnāt take a genius to note how attractive Christopher Bahng was, and you certainly werenāt immune to the effect.
Careful grasp of your hips reminding you youāre safe, mere moments prevail before breaching the waterās surface, complaining about the cold while the bear of a man practically suffocates you in his arms, twisting side to side in a tight hug despite your ingenuine anger swallowed beneath laughter.
āSeriously, you canāt just do that! I might die of shock one day.ā
āWell youāre definitely not that weak from how beat up poor Han looked,ā He giggles, gliding with ease through chilled waters no matter your weight, courtesy of his bloodline (and whatever hell of a workout regime he followed).
About to retaliate, you pause, contemplating.
āHey! You shouldāve told me you were watching,ā Stubbornly insistent, you allow the gentleman to lift you back onto the dock, his own gill-retaining form remaining in the water beneath your faux glare.
Something he grows sheepish in regards to before pointing to a blanket behind you.
So your near-drowning experience was pre-planned.Ā
Jerk.
Although you donāt deny the goosebumps littering your arms and legs, hurriedly wrapping the warm fabric around yourself.
āNah,ā He smiles, fingers carding through unbearably endearing locks. āI wanted to see how it played out. Youāve improved a lot.ā
Reaching his hand upward where you can return the fist-bump, you nod at the compliment, referring to the fact Chris taught you how to fight in the first place after your many losses against Hanās sneak attacks, something the latter still moped over to this day.Ā
āThanks to you,ā You add, not missing the dimples dipping into his skin when he grins.Ā
So. Very. Attractive.
Both turning to witness the fullness of todayās dawn, you canāt help but soak in the sight, carving each detail into your memory.Ā
How lucky you are to get to see something this striking, the sky painted in innumerable streaks of warm hues.
āSay,ā Redirecting his attention back to you, you balance your jaw on your hand, the pretty view provoking a bit of thinking.
āAre there any other godās here? Or like, children of the gods?ā
Assessing your question, Chrisās eyes surf his surroundings thoughtfully, wracking his mind for anyone he can think of.
āHm,ā A decisive grunt sounds where a tugs a plush bottom lip between his teeth. A sight as easy to get infatuated with as the sunrise.
āHanās an exception since he pretty much drops by everywhere, and Iām over here because of the ocean and the location but uh⦠there might be? From what Iāve heard thereās likely at least one other here. You might have better luck asking Hyunjin.ā
Hyunjin being the son of Eros, god of love.Ā
Someone youāve never met, but both Han and Chris relayed heās the epitome of beauty.
Coming from them, thatās a feat.
You deflate.
āIn Seoul?ā
Yeah, no way youāre finding a way to Seoul for that. Bus fees, subway fees, coming up with an excuse to your dad? Not happening.
Chris, realizing the unrealistic circumstance, deflates along with you, expression apologetic that you hope to condole with a reassuring smile.
Noting the rate in which your clothes are drying thanks to the warmth of the sunās rays, you gather your things, stalling when your friendānow drying off beside youāspeaks up again.
āAh, right! There is one! Iāve only met him a few times before at meetings and gatherings, but heās the son of Artemisā well, not by birth but thatās a long story- and his name is⦠Jeong? Yin? No no, itās Yang, Yang Jeongin! Yep, thatās the guy. Heās a little shy but a real cutie.ā
Cringing back from the sly manner he nudges your shoulder, the high, mischievous lift of his brows indicate nothing but trouble.Ā
If this is the mischief the townspeople mentioned, youāre starting to understand now.
Who knew the son of Poseidon was turning into a figment of Cupid?
Then again, you donāt think youāve ever heard the name before.Ā
Waving goodbye and thanking him for the help, your hike toward the road fills with nothing but wry banter and playful insults from the older one until dividing separate ways.
Him to the aquatic center to prep for class, you back home.
Routine.
Not-so-gracefully peeling frigid clothing from your body, the warm water of your showerhead after sneaking through quiet halls to the bathroom is greatly welcomed, mind racing while attempting to focus on sudsing shampoo into your scalp.Ā
But when you close your eyes, reevaluation of past events and retrieval of a specific memory breach the forefront of your mind.
Yang Jeongin.
Heās giving you something to think about.
The Saturday market beckons superior business to any other day of the week, town square amassed in bustling vendors and the clink! of cash deposited into registers alike. As usual, the Bahng family hones the most fish sales (a matter the both of you chuckle at, with Poseidonās family as the townās greatest fishermen, ironically).
However, most locals, like yourself, steer clear of wandering customers, often relocating towards the outskirts in search of things to do.
As for today, you spend your time entertaining grandmothers with silly stories, one hand reaching to soothe the ache in your back from arduous strawberry picking.Ā
Februaryās harvest is always abundant, Demeterās grace within the plentiful yield.Ā
āAlright alright, all Iām saying is keep your eye out, yeah? āCould be Hermesā son delivering your daily mail, you never know?ā
The sly smile tugging at your lips is met with conjoined hackling from the elderly crowd, dispelling your tales as nothing more than a jestāignorant to the truthfulness of the statement.
And yet, having begun a decent distance from the group, your steps in dropping off the strawberries falls still, a sharp, barely perceptible silhouette rushing past rendering whatever earlier thoughts forgotten.Ā Ā
The forest.Ā
No, you arenāt superstitious, but the near glow of eyes from those darkened shadows remains unmistakable.
Truth be told, most were advised not to enter these forests. Never had there been an outright reason, simply that it was dangerous and uncharted.Ā
If uncharted, how could it be dangerous?Ā
ā¦Right?
Internally shrugging off your logically hesitant thoughts, you maneuver between haggard branches and hawthorn brambles, watching the surroundings forestry darken the further you venture, limiting visibility.Ā
So green, so alive. As if a new world had opened the moment you stepped inside.
Or, in other words, a new domain.
Someoneās new domain.
The feeling is almost serene, hidden from the outside, lost amongst endless expanses of oak and fern in every direction.
No sign of the eyes.
Hm.
As a precaution, however, you leave an evident mess nearest to the entrance, not planning to go too far in order to make it back before nightfall.
Just.. curiosity, right? Youāll be out and back in no time.
The crackle beneath your shoes of twigs indicate an obvious inexperience towards exploration, each sound contributing to the lift of your head, quickened surveillance trying to take in each and every aspect.Ā
Birds above, the skittering of animals in trees.
Most notably, no sight nor sound of another human, as if disproving your prior observation.
Just where were those eyes?Ā
ā..Hello?ā
If there was, in fact, anything dangerous in this forest, youāve certainly made yourself noticeable with the volume of your voice.
No response.
A part of you mentally berates the child-like wonder spurring you on, the yearning to discover any spectacle in close radius.
However, of the many things youād like to quell, getting lost in your thoughts seems insistently stubborn.
Itās a sharp hiss, source easily detectable, that shakes you from the daydream-like headspace, watching the snake begin to lunge as if in slow motion.
A pit-viper.Ā
This is what makes the forest dangerous.
A sharp gasp on your part, but yet to be faster.
Is this how it ends?
How pathetic.
What brings the air back into your lungs, nonetheless, isnāt the stinging sensation of a venomous bite, but the whizz of an arrow flying right past your cheek, landing in the dead-center of the reptileās head and gluing it to the leafy underbrush below.
Attention immediately flickering over your shoulder does the oxygen escape your being for a second time, this occasion more awe-filled than terror-stricken.
Those eyes.
Like emeralds where they peer down at you, partially covered by a messy head of hair, tipped in silent inquisition. The savior of yours pays no mind in introduction, adjusting his quiver and bow into its coordinated position where he crouches on a branch, like that of a leopard surveying its next meal.
And although you donāt know how, his name comes to you in minutes, legs like jelly upon finally moving, placing distance between yourself and the now-deceased snake.
āJeongin? Yang Jeongin?ā
His head proceeds to wordlessly tilt, almost uncanny in the owl-like resemblance before he becomes a mere flash of motion again, appearing behind you and earning a choked inhale in return.
Perhaps mute?Ā
Or maybe not a people person, who knows.
This forest doesnāt seem to have many visitors, anyway.
Yet, he pays you no mind, alternatively focused on retrieving the utilized arrow embedded in the snakeās skull before rising to his full height.
Tall, fits the description well enough.
Yeah. This guy isnāt human.
āCould.. Could I touch you?ā
He speaks!
Though, the request was a bit strange despite the man honing a quieted, surprisingly kind voice.
Then it hits you. The familiarity with the name Artemis back during Chrisā introduction.
Sheās of the many chastity goddesses, not to mention a hunting and a maiden goddessāmeaning she never had children nor married, which explains the complication when Chris was explaining him a few days ago.
Seems you were too enthralled with the news of her son, not necessarily the origins.
Also explaining his hesitation when regarding you, as if you were a being he couldnāt dare lay eyes upon.
It made you want to laugh, honestly, imagining his stubborn goddess of a mother scolding the boy before you.
āSure,ā Comes your reply, observing as Jeongin investigates your arms, apparently searching for bites. He wears this blank expression, but you can see the curiosity hidden within dark, albeit gleaming eyes.
āYouāre not smart.ā
Oh, thanks.
āHuh?ā Craning forward to ensure you heard him right, youāre once again met with a thoughtless faceāone that doesnāt seem to understand what those words entail by the lack of guilt visible there.
Yet, it doesnāt seem he means poor. Nor that he understands the complexity of his words.
āThe forest.ā He waves his hand around, bringing awareness to the rustling in shrub patches and the sound of wings fanning in the distance. āIs not safe for you.ā
You only nod, finding the manner in which he speaks to you sweet.Ā
Not meaning to sound offensive, no, simply observant, informative.
His statements are blunt and quick, lacking emotionality but containing inklings of concern regardless.
This one hasnāt met many mortals, apparently.
āWhy?ā Pushing further into the topic, you bite back your cough of surprise, blinking rapidly when he links his finger with yours, thumb smoothing over the top of your hand like a caress of consolation.
āSoft,ā Jeongin murmurs, oblivious to his actions as you come to understand what heās talking about, pointing to his own hand opposing yours.
āRough.ā
Ah.
You get it now.Ā
His way of saying you arenāt fit for the forest, considering your hands being soft compared to his own rough ones, an almost immature way of explanation that you find yourself charmed by.
Somehow, you canāt bring yourself to heed to it.
His warning, that is.
āBut what if I donāt want to go?ā
A quick blink, gaze fluttering down, then up, then back down.
Thinking face.Ā
And he pouts. Pouts.
Maybe itās because of his status, his divinity, how incredulously handsome he is.Ā
Or maybe itās just that youāre already smitten.
āThen.ā He lets go of your hand, pinkies intertwined for a moment longer than necessary. āStay close.āĀ
Immediately after, Jeongin starts off, obviously anticipating you to follow him by the manner in which he glances behind him.Ā
Somehow, he managed to miraculously end up in a tree, deemed supernatural with the ease in which the action was performedā a perfectly almond-shaped stare investigating your unmoving frame below.
āAfraid?āĀ
More like surprised.Ā
āNo, youāre just.. different from anyone Iāve ever met before. This is different from anything Iāve ever done before.ā
Sparing a few seconds to process your sentence, he wets his lips, maintaining a comfortably balanced squat.
āWho are the people youāve met before?ā
Just when he asks the question does the town lights in the distance flicker off, and youāre reminded of the minimal time you have to stay here.
āI..ā
The words die on your tongue.Ā
You donāt want to go. Thereās so much you want to know, so many questions to ask.
āIāll tell you all about it another time, but I have to go home now,ā Reluctantly began, an index is pointed toward the direction you had come from. Or, more accurately, where you thought you came from.
Instead, your once lit path is shrouded in darkness, unable to see exactly where youāre headed, where you even entered initially.
āHome?ā Again he tips his head, failing to help the responsible side of your mind force you home.
Cute.
Gosh, Chris wasnāt kidding.
āYes, home. Outside of here, outside of the forest. Could you,ā You internally debate, chewing your bottom lip in contemplation. āCould you take me there?ā
Way to put the guy to work.
Save my life, now take me home, please.
Luckily, your brewing guilt is staunched as hastily as it rises with his mere nod. Perhaps you could add that to the assortment of reasons why you like him, honesty making for easy decisions, conversation.Ā
Extending a hand for you to take, you dutifully keep pace wherever he leads, rather impressed at his awareness, watching his attention swivel left and right, assessing the sounds, sights.Ā
He certainly belongs to the forest.
Occasionally heāll stop, holding his arm out in front of you and fetching the wooden bow, firing it into the distance only for a chortled hiss to respond.Ā
How does he see these things?
āHow do you live here?ā Thinking aloud, Jeongin hums in response, shaking his head.
āNot here. I live in the center, itās much safer there.ā
No, it must be the other way around. The forest belongs to him.Ā
And with that, you continue onward till the fading glow of streetlights peeks through leaves and trees, a sign youāre close to home.
āWere you-ā More hesitation, inked in the hitch of your words, the glance over his shoulder. āWere you watching me?ā
A foot before he reaches the edge does Jeongin stop, granting you another peek returned with a sheepish smile.Ā
āI heard voices,ā Comes his monotonous reply, hand reaching to gently smooth a bit of your hair between two fingers. āAnd I like this.ā
Your hair, he ambiguously compliments.
I like your hair.
A part of you could have laughed at the hilarity, but instead, you merely grin like an idiot.
A happy idiot.
Your heart nearly stops when he tries returning the action, lips pulled awkwardly high, teeth bared like a feisty cat.
Heās trying to match your smile.
Jeongin is stupid cute.Ā
Guess you canāt be mad at Chris anymore.
āBye bye!ā Shouted a ways away, one hand lifts to wave to a confused Jeongin who, once again, attempts to mimic you, something youāre placing in your hall of fame of favorite moments.
āGood.. bye.ā
His own hand lifting in a makeshift wave remains the single memory left in your mind that night, cursing Hypnos for failing to drag you asleep, instead accursed to roll left to right sleeplessly until dawn allows some shut-eye in its early hours.
And when you close your eyes, the gleaming of emeralds dancing beneath your eyelids betrays all that lies in your mind.
āJeongin! Jeongin!ā Shouted from the edge of the forest, minutes pass squinting at dense foliage before a curious pair of eyes becomes noticeable within the greenery.
From familiarity comes something habitual, like with Han, now with Jeongin.Ā
Daily visits, hoping to satiate your interest that never wanes.Ā
That is, under the excuse youāve gotten into hunting as an explanation to Han, Chris, and your father. Yet, the knowing glances from Chris says he already has an idea of the truth behind your story.
Itās not that you necessarily want to hide your association with Jeongin, but the minuscule thrill gained each step through dark underbrush feels as if some deep secret hides behind the trees, your secret, together.
Plus, the last thing you need on your head is a new target for Jisungās jeering.Ā
āI brought snacks, want to try some?āĀ
Lifting the hand holding a plastic bag of goods, you shuffle closer towards the man, granted an ultimately confused stare at said bag.Ā
Silent, but expressive enough you donāt require a word to understand his response prior to stepping into his territory.
Immediately, as if he were some treat-adoring puppy, heās practically breathing down your neck to see inside the bag, chin resting upon your shoulder as you lift the contents, brows furrowed quizzically.
āBanana milk, Gimbap for us to share, andā Honey Butter chips,ā You hum, lips curving into a breathless smile watching his fascinated expression simply heighten with each discovery.
āI⦠was thinking of Soju, but knowing your mother, I donāt think that would be a good idea.ā
āSoju?ā He echoes, earning your nod as you glance back at where he props his head upon your shoulder.
āHm,ā A nod, reaching up to pat his cheek with a small huff of laughter.
Like a child, this one.
āAlcohol.āĀ
His small hum of acknowledgment resounds, and you canāt help but choke on a giggle where he presses his nose into your shoulder, seemingly intent on smelling the fabric.Ā
āOcean,ā Jeongin observes, swift to nod where he wordlessly slips from his place beside you, coaxed into your usual position whenever led to the center of the forest.Ā
A few weeks back you mentioned your other āgodlyā friends, namely Chris. That, and the weekly visits to meet Jisung by those same shores, a matter he acknowledges with the dip of his head, taking position in front of you.
Usual position being his hand in yours, always going ahead to scout. ā¦And those repeated glances that leave your heart stuttering in your chest.
Doting, in his silent way of doing things. Those times heād save the last piece of bread youād bring from the market solely for you, or listen intently when youād speak, eyes never straying from yours.Ā
The tiny crack of a smile tugging at his lips when youāll tell him about some funny run-in with a grandmother, or the nearly innate sense of knowing he holds, able to detect your fatigue in ample time and beckon you to a carefully arranged bed of furs you find yourself napping in too many times to count.Ā Ā Ā
No less, he was right that first time you met. The center of the forest is peaceful. A home hidden from the rest of the world.
Compliant streams sifting past aged pebbles, old stone pathways you canāt help but wonder the age of, and the grasses under your feet, soft like a blanket when the both of you flop down after venturing for hours.
Rainy days, when everything is dark and mysterious. And mornings, heat subdued beneath leafy branches.
Wolf and bear-skin, heās informed the furs as, along with a fox-pelt, fasten over his arrow quiver to salvage throughout winter.Ā
Skillful, in all manner of things. Utilizing his hunts as food, jewelry, or fertilizer for an ecosystem more abundant than ever imaginable, all seeming to flock around Jeongin like a forest prince.
A good title: Forest Prince.
Like now, where you sprawl on the forest floor, plastic bag ransacked of its contents that Jeongin investigates thoroughly, each item brought to his nose to smell.
Apparently either ignorant or immune to the twitter of a bird having taken perch on his shoulder.Ā
āIād say.. these things are kind of like Onigiri, but youāve never had Onigiri, right? Ah, then itās like.. seaweed, with rice and meat filling. This one has..ā
Continuing on and on, consciously, youād like to apologize for your neverending chatter, though at the moment, his acknowledging nods and patient gaze fixed your way with each bite you hold to his lips keeps you ignorant, savoring.
Because the thought strikes you how separated heās been from the world despite residing mere miles from a mortal like yourself, and you donāt want to take advantage of it, take these interactions and teachings with that of the world outside of the forest for granted.Ā
Not to mention the world inside the forest you learn more of each waking moment, almost well-versed enough to lead to the center of the forest yourself.
Of course, the sweet narrow of his eyes usually keeps the cocky offer at bay most days.Ā
Most days.Ā
After receiving his scolding glare upon getting ahead of yourself, the small furrow of his brows where he patches up your scraped knee, the cuts along your forearms from sharp shrubbery patches.Ā
Learning, growing. You teach him, he teaches you.
An exchange the both of you have grown rather accustomed to, something looked forward to. Day after day, hour after hour. Like children, frolicking in the wooded expanse with an fervor unable to be quenched.Ā
āCatch me!ā Youād call from afar, watching his face alight, ignorant to the matter you were, in fact, his first friend (aside from plenty of forest acquaintances, such as the visiting robins).
And that, that smile curving at his lips became one only you could provoke. Saved just for you.Ā
Clouds scatter the atmosphere, dousing Sokcho in an endless gradient of grays and blue, hinting at an incoming storm from the low rumble here and there.Ā
However, your attention has long since been occupied. Located within the forest as if a second home, a focused gaze settles upon the scavenging rabbit scampering along fern-filled underbrush, each careful, apprehensive flicker of its tall ears keeping your breath bated.
āElbow back.ā
Concentration on the rabbit, and simultaneous acknowledgement to the man standing just behind you, pressed to your frame.Ā
Easily would you have lost focus if not for the grounding hand grasping yours, helping steady your hold on the bowās grip and ensuring a precisely crafted arrow balances upon the nocking point, aimed directly at the fluffy creature.
Today, Jeongin is teaching you how to wield his bow.Ā
Heās also dangerously close to you, strands of inky hair tickling your cheek when he leans to murmur pointers in your ear, shifting so the toned bit of his chest presses to your back.
A skillful foot adjusts your own footās position, offering a small click of his tongue in assurance towards the clench of your teeth, straining to hold such a massive bow in waiting.
āNow.ā
The words are a facet of relief, drawn elbow allowed rest, opposing eye closed for better focus opening to catch sight of your kill.
After weeks of practicing, it seems the rain brought in a meager portion of luck.
Thank you, Artemis, comes your internal thanks, scampering down after Jeongin towards the puncturing arrow, peering over his shoulder as he utters the ordinated eucharistia and gathers the animal to bring back.
And yet, halfway there, he pauses, peering over his shoulder back at you.
Youād like to think a ghost of a smile resided in his eyes, and the slight crinkle in the corners seems to further prove the assumption.
āYou did well.ā
Ah.
Like those moments by the fire, the quiet times heāll be there when you awaken from your nap only to find him right there, staring down upon your form with what youād scorn to call affection.
Getting your hand caught in the brambles, when his gentle thumb wipes away beading tears, smoothing to cup your cheek, shushing the slight sniffles too gently for your heart to bear.
And now, those prolonged irises, fixated upon you as if uttering a prayer.Ā
Hm.
You want to kiss him.
Momentary, as risky as his earlier closeness back when hunting do you peek down, surveying the near perfect skin of his lips.
A russet brown upper lip seated atop the lighter pink of a dashing bottom lip, glossy from his tongue having rushed across seconds prior.
Quietly, you scold your struggle to swallow.
All the same, it appears you underestimated his aptitude for observation, falling into the learned pattern of rinse and repeat, ignore and move on, while trekking back to the forestās center.
That, and the same manner his gaze flits to your lips too.
The first time you find yourself imprinting on him is during a regular conversation of yours, sharing strawberries, sparing words here and there between mouthfuls.
Expectantly, a joke comes spouting from your lips, one you watch with pride that earns the upward quirk of his lips in silent amusement, lightly smacking a hand across his leg as if laughing.Ā
Well, what you do when you laugh, and it takes you a moment before you begin giggling(this time audible) yourself, unable to keep the bubbling sound from pouring out.Ā
Heās adorable, in almost every way. Exhibiting your habits, mimicking your expressions like a curious babe.Ā
The expectant manner he studies your expression, as if debating on whether or not that was the right reaction, or the way the slight plush of his cheeks causes his eyes to disappear while still learning to smile, searching your own smile as a blueprint.
He teaches you, you teach him.
Nevertheless, the hunting incident was never spoken of nor added to conversation. His eyes on your lips, yours on his, left forgotten.
A matter you were thankful for, no matter the temporary fix.
Something left unspoken, for as long as the silence would last.Ā
.Ā
.Ā
.
Then again, veracity would poke itself from ignorance in due time, so you savored the quiet even more, kept your eyes clearly glued to his face and his face only.
Not his lips.
Certainly not.
Taken up activities to pull your mind from the temptation, the urge. Hunted more, learned simple skills in healing, tactics in fighting. Day after day, growing stronger, more well-versed with your surroundings, abilities.
Some days called for peaceful tasks, like finding the correct berries or leaves for herbal salves, detecting those of foul intent and the best way to dispose of them.Ā
Others sweat-inducing, leaving you to heave for your breath and clamber back to your feet.
If Chris could teach and Hermes could bow to your fighting prowess, Jeongin could battle. Effortless in the manner his footsteps pound on grassy terrain, wielding a dagger as if a maestroāleading an orchestra to a haunting finale down to the depths of the Underworld.
And for once, you hate ever being cocky, inviting him to ātry his hardestā despite remaining blindsided to the utter depths of Tartarus you feel your head being dipped into with each practiced swipe of his hand, sharpened dagger narrowly avoided for an eight time.
Trembling legs force yourself stable, the quiver of your thighs betraying the cruel, human need for rest, recuperation.
But no, determination beckons another outcome, lights a fire in your veins. Knowing of the sensible outcome being his victory, unwilling to back down.
Perhaps it was that fire, that anger and frustration when you glared at him from across the clearing that kindled his own bonfire, one crackling, with blue flames licking a smoky sky where a usually monotone expression seems to glow.
The potential of a god.
āCut me,ā Heād said an hour or so ago, towards the beginning of your sparring. Logically, you laughed off the offer regardless of his seriousnessāfor gods were immune to the inflicted agonies.
Right about now though, the offer is tempting. That, and the irritation with both yourself and him continues to take life, rooting itself into your chest like the enormous cypress in the forestās center.
In a flash of will-power, your legs are rushing forward, each thump of your heartbeat divisible within your eardrums, battering against your ribcage as the Minotaur to his Knossos labyrinth.
The weapon of choice in hand, your own dagger, comes rushing outwards, knuckles a ghastly white with the tightness of your grip.
I move left, heāll swerve below then back. Or right? Orā
The pivot of his left heel, and you know this movement, body reacting without thinking to counteract.
Slice!
āWhat..ā Both heaving for air that seems too slow in entering your lungs, feeble words manage from your lips.
āWhat color does a god bleed, Jeongin?ā
And looking up, you arenāt met with an Olympianās wrath nor cry for vengeance, but a grin, toothy and amused. His grin of satisfaction, and you feel your breath catch in your throat, chest aching from the cough elicited in return.
Red. Red rivulets spill from the thin slice across his cheekbone, curving down the sculpted expanse of his neck and disappearing to stain his clothing.
His true smile, proud and satiated.
āSame color as you, we just donāt run out.ā
Snide remark met with a short snort of yours, you find the camera of your mind shuttering, capturing this moment as one of a kind, a new side to the man you thought you knew all angles of.
Though it seems he is more than three-dimensional. Today proves that.
His thumb reaches to swipe at the stinging infliction, quieting your apology with a sidelong glance and noiselessly kneeling down in front of you, back facing the confused tip of your head.
āGet on.ā Jeongin grunts, and you would have laughed if not for the worsening ache in your legs, the way your body feels of lead after much exertion, prompting no trace of protest where you flop atop his spine.
Silence, a common occurrence when with Jeongin. Never uncomfortable, especially not as you press your nose into his shoulder, inhaling that signature, earthy scent of petrichor, savor the warmth his body always seems to emit, the gentleness of his hands in supporting your thighs around his waist.Ā
Not to mention the intermittent squeeze of his grasp upon your skin, as if to assure you of your approaching distance back āhomeā, or, what you now call your second home.
Like a sleeping spell enacted by the sweetest of voices, youāre asleep instantly, your last glimpse of life coming in the form of soft furs enveloping your body; kind, calloused hands cradling your cheeks for a moment longer before allowing solitude.
By the time your lashes dust remnants of slumber from view, the majority of your ailments: cut knees, arms, have been tended to, the nap providing ample recovery time.
And in front of you, a pile of plucked day-flowers and Jeonginās hunched form, braiding the stems.
āMmh..ā The sleepy hum pulls his brow-knitted-concentration awry, and youād like to cry watching the sharp narrow of his eyes soften simultaneously, arm extending to run a delicate palm over your forehead, brushing stray bits of hair from your eyes.
āIām making bracelets,ā An invitation in the lilt to his tone, the division of his pile towards you.
āWould you like to make some as well?ā
Ah. Heās too much and never enough all at the same time.
Taking to braiding the twines as well speaks on your behalf, the afternoonās quietness interrupted by a shrilling warbler and the wisp of wind rustling branches, swirling leaves into miniature tornadoes.
āHmā¦ā A bit of your humming breaks up the stillness, careful to avoid delicate petals amid the process. āMy friends and I used to make these for our crushes, or just between friends, yeah?ā
Across from you, Jeongin sits, his legs crossed, lips puffed in thought whilst slender fingers intertwine the three bits of vine together.
ā..Crushes?ā
The paling of his features upon peeking up at you indicate he certainly had no clue about the figurative meaning of ācrushesā, and you have to pretend to cough to keep from snorting with giggles.
Day-flower bracelets and talk of crushes after nearly battling to the death, apparently.
āLike, um, people you like. Lots of people call them their crush,ā Patient, no less, where the boy nods, his clumsy fingers growing acclimated to weaving the flowers along string, the delight evident in his expression after completing a bracelet a sight worth remembering.
What you hadnāt anticipated was being handed the bracelet once he finished it, speaking so matter-a-fact despite the words leaving parted lips.
āFor my crush.ā
Now itās your turn to pale, white as a sheet.
Huh?
Then it hits you, slow to ease the finished bracelet over your wrist.
āAh, I meant ālikeā as in, uh,ā A pause, wracking your mind for a decent definition. āAre interested in, romantically.ā
That usually indifferent gaze of his transforms into eyes wide as saucers, the nervous tightness of lips and redness of his ears making you want to squeal.
Cute.
Itās scary how often you think that about him, every little thing swoon-worthy.
āI apologize.ā
No, no.Ā Ā Ā
āNo! I didnāt- you didnāt understand, Jeongin. āS okay, seriously.ā Exhaling wearily, one hand lifts, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze of reassurance. āThank you. I love the bracelet.ā
āGood.ā A small sigh youād assume of relief slips from his lips, chortling to himself before returning an identical squeeze of your hand, falling into a shared cloak of silence.
Not awkward, however. Just quiet. Giving you time to lift your intertwined fingers and marvel at the fact you feel youāve known him forever, not mere months.Ā
The plentiful veins stretched across the pale back of his hand, so alternative to the sunlight seeming to blaze past the canopyās leaves, able to sear your skin tan in a matter of days.Ā Ā
From a passerbyās point of view, perhaps he would appear normal, if only slightly.
You know better.
Unconsciously, your thumb smooths over the bumpy veins, behaving as if able to feel the rush of immortal blood through blue, green, and purple channels connecting to a perpetually beating heart.
āSame color as you, we just donāt run out.ā
So why wait, when heāll have eternity and youāll have a lifetime?
āI think youāre becoming my crush.ā
And other times, the truth would be announced before it could announce itself.
āIām sorry if thatās confusing.ā
His failure to flinch away calms your nerves, for now. Weakened courage, nonetheless, keeps your eyes averted.
āSimilar to your hair,ā A pause, your gaze flickering up to his as if to translate the expression prior to his reiteration, prior to the agreeing nod and two fingers fidgeting with a tress of your hair, just like the first time you met him in these woods.
āSimilar to your hair, I like that too.ā
And he goes back to bracelet-making, as if speaking about the weather and not returning feelings you once believed were one-sided.
So this is love.
Is it the truth that every tale of love leads to tragedy?Ā
Orpheusā madness leading to abandonment of his beloved Eurydice back into the Underworld, his true love never to be seen again but instead remembered in his laments, his lyre?Ā
Or is it just a coincidence that the center of the forest is empty this time? That his quiver of arrows has gone amiss?
Hunting, maybe.
Then again, heās always been first to detect youāthe sweep of a bird or a rush of air indicating his impending arrival.
Today, stillness of the wind sends goosebumps littering up your arms, cupping your hands over your mouth to shout his name.
And no one replies.
Not a soul.
Jeongin may have grown more sly, more confident while in your company, but no such joke like this would be played, that you knew.
Which is why, in a panic, your feet thunder towards the closest confidant of yours other than the Forest Prince and a soon-to-be Messenger god, storming past nagging thorn patches pricking your wrists and off towards the tides.
āChris!ā
A sharp shout, the unevenness of your tone apparently evident, for Chris looks rather disgruntled, concerned where he pokes his head from the waters at the end of the dock.
An overreaction, possibly. However, an absence after nearly seven months of routine attendance canāt help but twist your gut the wrong way.
āYes? Hello? Whatās wrong, sweetheart? You hurt? Innie hurt?ā
āInnieā, his nickname for Jeongin that, in your normal state would have gathered a laugh.
This time excluded.
Quick hands fumble to gesture your discontentment, scrambling to unearth comprehensible sentences.
āI donāt- I donāt know where he is and- what if heās hurt? Or maybe heās in trouble with Artemis? Could I have gotten him in trouble? What if I never see him agaiāā
āY/N.ā
Salvation in his grounding hands, human legs having sprouted without your acknowledgement to join you on the dock. Meanwhile, your frenzied disposition establishes ignorance to the water droplets clinging to his fingertips, mending the thorny cuts while trying to level the pound of your chest.
āBreathe with me, okay?ā
Focusing your eyes on his lips isnāt something you havenāt done before, but this time itās different. Heās steadying, a low tide receding the worries from your brain as you follow his breaths.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Another.
Inhale.
Exhale.
āFirst off, the most likely cause behind his disappearance would be his mother, we both know that, hm? If thatās the case, I have no doubt in a day or two heāll be back. You know how I have my duties with mā dad, yeah?ā
Though, heās faster than you in catching the telltale signs of your recurring worries, clicking his tongue as if scolding a student of his in his swim-class.
āAnd when Jisung stops by tomorrow, Iāll ask him to bother his dad about it, okay? Leave it to Hermes to hear every conversation in Olympus.ā
His face lights up seeing your meager smile, index brushing your lashes of their bubbling tears.
āThereās that pretty smile.ā A soft coo, and you playfully swat at his hands, the second-long eye-contact a wordless āthank youā he assures back with a wink, pulling you into a tight hug before separating.
āAnd donāt go worrying, alright? Heāll be back for the forest, sure, but he wouldnāt leave your side too, and I think we both know that.ā
An affectionate pat to your cheek and he vanishes like an apparition, the splash of water a ways away his only source of detection and your last chance to scold his insinuations.
But, for all you know, he could be right.
Jeongin wouldnāt leave your side, and a part of you knew that from the start.
Nonetheless, while Chris badgered Jisung into asking his dad about Jeongin, you spent your daysāfour, exactly, since Jeongin had disappearedāscouring the forest.
No trace, and Chris was still waiting for updates come Jisungās next return.
Pick some berries, hunt a bit, your mind hounded, futilely attempting to quell the emptiness, the lack of excitement without him by your side.
A dependence you used to dread ever having when it came to someone, now like second instinct, something craved when deprived of.
A week later, youāre first to the beach, the flutter of winged sandals barely drifting to a stop before youāre pouncing and leaving the poor boy choking on his words, letters of his satchel scattering about.
āAny-ā A choke on your own breath, eyes wide, grasping onto a waning hope like a person crazed.Ā āAny news?ā
āYeah, lovebird, if you gave me time to land.ā
Jisung is not amused, though he does give a tiny smirk intelligently kept silent, cautiously evading your wrath.
āThe boyfriend of yours should be back by tomorrow. His momāsāā
A clear of his throat, nervously glancing at the sky as if awaiting Zeusā lightning bolt to strike him.Ā
āMiss Artemis wants him to learn his hunting in Olympus, the kid said how he likes the forest better, blah blah, real cute. Heāll be back tomorrow.ā
Feigning sarcasm, you take your turn in surprising him for a second time with a hug, one Jisung begrudgingly mirrors after a grumbled insult.
āYou uh.. You gonna invite me to the wedding or what?ā
A smack against his shoulder brings back much-needed familiarity.Ā
That, and the fleeting hope the face youāve fallen for will come into view by tomorrow, that this nightmare youāll awaken from.
.
.
.
The most anticipation youāve ever felt for the next day usually came in the form of Christmas morning, once awaiting the presents, now awaiting a different sort of Holiday.
Him.
Hurried footsteps linger by the forest edge, hoping beryl irises may glimpse past the bushes, crinkle into a smile, his smile for you.
Foolish, it must seem. Treating his arrival like a set time, expecting his presence at the very crack of dawn.
But youāll wait. Wait and wait.
Whatās a day to the five you waited through?
Although, pacing and searching becomes a bit dull after four hours, and as the evening sun begins to fall, you feel a sense of dread like never before.
Hermes hears gossip, yes, but does that mean itās always correct?
Damn it all.
āJeongin!ā
An angry shout to no one, nothing. A shout to the warblers once peeking down at the two of you, now soaring off in alarm.
āYou jerk!ā
A long time, truthfully.
.
āA what?ā
Whipping around so fast you fear injury, you fear you might be hallucinating catch onto where he stands a few feet away, doused in the shadows of the looming cypress signature to the forest.
Real, breathing.
And.. who you just called a jerk.
Well, announced as a jerk to the whole forest.
So many questions, thoughts.
Why didnāt you tell me you were leaving? Is there a forewarning when it comes to seeing your godly parents?
Most of all though, slipping through the fissures of confusion and awe, happiness lies.
Bright and brilliant and ah, you want to scream.
Who knew love was so exasperating, painful just seeing his face.
Relief, in its utmost form.
Running to him, itād be downright embarrassing if not for the smile on your face, making your cheeks ache with its ceaselessness where your arms wrap around his in a tight hug.
āIām sorry, I love you,ā Is all thatās mumbled upon pulling back, and perhaps you ran upon the same wavelength in those few seconds, with his head tipping in perfect alignment with yours to welcome a slow, savoring kiss you want to spend forever in.
And, unfortunately separating, it appears your sensibility also returned, clearing your throat and synonymously scorning the heat of your cheeks, avoiding his fond gaze observing your faceāpainting it in his mind.
Tender thumbs smooth over your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours and dragging your attention back once more from previous fluster.
āI wouldnāt leave you, you know that. I wish I couldāve left a note but,ā A chaste halt, chewing at his bottom lip. āIām still memorizing the letters you taught me.ā
Pausing again, he gathers his words.
āAnd I donāt know why you apologized,ā He chuckled to himself, pressing too-short of a kiss to your lips and gathering you close by the loop of your day-flower bracelet, matching the one on his own wrist.
āBecause I love you too, and this,ā A tug at the bracelet, firm vines keeping from flimsiness. āThis keeps us together.ā
Another peck, and you fight the urge to giggle at his silliness, noses bumping.
āSo whenever you feel alone,ā A single tug at your wrist, at the dayflowers. āJust know Iām right beside you. Always.ā
āHeāll be back for the forest, sure, but he wouldnāt leave your side too, and I think we both know that.ā
In the end, Chris was right.
He wouldnāt leave your side, and that was a promise.
Summer, and blackberries laid out on a picnic blanket consist of your afternoon snack. That, and your curiosity over his obedience to Artemisā chastity guidelines regarding your relationshipāinterested in whether he wished to follow in his motherās footsteps.
āI will honor her oaths, but I am not obligated to follow them, hm?ā
A sly lilt to his reply, perhaps in his words, maybe in the momentary shift of his attention from the bitten blackberry to you.
āAnd right now,āĀ
The confidence in his words, the emotion, so opposed to the blank, indifferent precursor of his speech, courtesy of your influence.
Even more so when he leans forward, the soft exhale of satisfaction through his nose something youād swoon having heard if not for his lips on yours, failing to finish his sentence for a moment.
Soft, unhurried where he drifts down, top teeth gently nibbling at the skin before ushering the plump of your bottom lip in his own lips.
āI want to kiss you. And I donāt think any force of Olympus could keep me from it.ā
A summer afternoon, and Jeongin tastes like blackberries.
Content: Howlās Moving Castle AU, fluff, found family vibes, idiots falling in love
Warning(s): suggestive themes, some explicit language, brief mentions of war
Word Count:Ā 8.2k
Summary: Your adventures with Han the wizard continue! But things are heating up, in more ways than one.Ā
A/N: Please heed the updated warnings! Weāve bumped the rating of this tooth-rotting fluff into something slightly steamy~ read at your own risk. Additionally, Iāve deviated from the original story line a bit more to make certain plot points work better! Happy readingĀ
Part one | Part two
My masterlist š
All credit for the fan art in the cover image to the amazing artist (captioned)!
Cobwebs and dust bunnies the size of real bunnies rain down from the ceiling as you angrily sweep your broom as high as you can reach. You were channeling your anger over the whole aged-50-years-and-canāt-even-complain-about-it situation into cleaning every nook and cranny of the disgusting castle, heaven knows it hasnāt been cleaned in years, if ever.
āIām sick of wizards, and aching joints, and being treated like some timid old lady!ā you grumble as you aggressively clear out pile after pile of junk scattered throughout the living room.Ā
Amidst all the clutter you uncover a family of mice and the fact that the living space has been neglected to such an extent that there are critters and bugs makes you sweep even more aggressively.
Clouds of dust escape through the open windows and out onto the busy street below. You barely catch Jeongin muttering something that sounds like, āIām not paid enough for thisā as he rushes outside with his disguise and a thick book. It would seem heās got a table set-up just in front of the shop to avoid your path of disinfecting. At least someone in this place has some sense.
Dusting, mopping, scrubbing, organizing, rearranging ā you flit around the first floor completely immersed in your tasks. A couple hours must have passed when suddenly, whining from a very small looking Minho reaches your ears.Ā
You glance over and see that Minhoās flame has dwindled significantly, you figure this is the perfect time to clear the ashes out of his hearth.Ā
āHey! Hey lady! Y/N, you gotta help me, you need to get me more firewood and quicklyā his eyes are big and pitiful looking as he complains, but you just roll your eyes and grab some tongs.Ā
You pick up the last bit of firewood Minhoās clinging to and plop him into a metal canister. Minhoās still being dramatic, fussing that heās going out, but you pay him no mind, humming as you start to clear out the ashes onto a waiting sheet on the floor.
If you were paying closer attention to the little fire demon, youād see him clinging to the last nub of wood, desperately trying not to let go. Minho calls for help, begs you to hurry up, but youāre so close to finishing up!Ā
He can wait a minute more, you think as you tie off the bundle of ashes and go to dispose of them outside.Ā
The bit of wood crumbles and Minho falls into the canister with a yelp. A small ring of smoke drifts up and just for a moment, Minhoās flame goes out.Ā
When you walk back in youāre surprised to see Han bent over in front of the hearth. Heās got his hand extended over Minho (whoās sitting on two fresh logs you notice) and seems to be coaxing his bright orange flame higher.Ā
Han stands up tall and turns to you with a tight smile, his body language is full of tension. The warning look in his eyes freezes you to the spot and you anxiously twist your fingers up in your apron, suddenly feeling like youāve overstepped.Ā
āYah! Iād appreciate it if you didnāt torment my friend,ā Han says. It sounds like he was going for a joking tone but it fell flat.Ā
You hear Jeongin coming back inside through the door behind you, but your attention is fixed on the wizard walking purposefully towards you. While Han hasnāt been cruel or even a little bit mean towards you this whole time, maybe youāve exhausted his patience and heās coming over to punish youā¦
You gasp and quickly stumble back, but Han breezes past you and down the stairs to the door.Ā
āMaster Han, are you going back out?ā Jeongin asks.
Han turns the dial to the black color and looks back over his shoulder with that same closed-lipped polite-but-strained smile and dull eyes as he addresses his apprentice, āMake sure the cleaning lady doesnāt do too much, yeah Innie?ā
Without waiting for an answer, he opens the door and flies off into a pitch black abyss, and the door slams shut behind him.
Jeongin is giving you major side-eye when you turn to him and he asks, āY/N⦠What did you do now?āĀ
āShe almost killed me!ā Minho butts in immediately, āIf I die, Han dies too, I hope you know that, lady!ā
You sigh at the theatrics, surely the fire demon is exaggerating. You could probably just light a match and heād be back to his annoying self.Ā Ā
āOh hush, you were fine!ā you remind him and shuffle over to grab your bucket and scrubbing brush. āAnyways, Iāve got a job to do.āĀ
As you head towards the stairs to start on cleaning the upper levels, Jeongin darts past you and spreads his long limbs out to block you from continuing. āHold on! You canāt come up here yet!ā he shouts, and looks nervously over his shoulder, up into the hallway.
āWhatever you donāt want me to clean, you better take care of it now~ā you sing, raising an eyebrow expectantly.
Jeongin squawks āSave my room for last! Han-hyungās room and bathroom will take forever anyways!ā He trips over his feet as he turns to run the rest of the way up the stairs, and you just chuckle to yourself.Ā
When you make it to the next level, youāre dismayed but not surprised that itās just as dirty up here. You open the first door to your left and discover an equally dirty bathroom, only, it looks as if a paint bomb went off inside. There are streaks of color everywhere: the walls, the sink, the tub (that is still full of steaming hot water), and even the toilet, which the state of that particular fixture makes you gag.Ā
Letting out a groan of exasperation, you march over and throw open the windows.Ā
You stick your head outside to huff the fresh air but instead find yourself dazzled by the amazing view. The physical castle is still lumbering through the Wastes, but the mountainous area youāre in is beautiful. Currently, the moving castle is travelling along the edge of a steep cliff and you can spot a meandering river way down below.
āThis is incredible! Minho? Minho!ā You shout in the direction of the stairs, āMinho, is it you moving the castle?!ā You turn and rush towards the top of the stairs to hear his answer.
āOf course itās me,ā He shouts back from his hearth, ā No one else does any work around here!ā
You lean over the railing, overflowing with amazement and you grin widely at Minho, āWell you are one impressive fire demon and I like your spark!ā You wink at him and giggle as you skip back to the bathroom.
You donāt see the way Minho has taken on a pink hue and how his flames shoot higher and spark wildly as he repeats your words with glee.Ā
You take it upon yourself to explore the rest of the upper levels of the castle, stumbling upon the hallway that contains Jeonginās room and he rushes through piles of clothes on the floor to close his door, shouting āNot ready yet!ā You pay him no mind, yanking open another door to find a small balcony.
The wind whips your hair and clothes around as you step outside to take in the view and after a few minutes, Jeongin joins you.Ā
Heās leaning on the railing in a way that slightly concerns you, because you just met him, but already know about his penchant for clumsiness.Ā
However, he just gives you a big toothy smile and his eyes turn into little crescents. The sight is so cute that you set aside your nagging and just enjoy the moment.Ā
Jeongin is telling you about the lake off in the distance, Star Lake he called it, when you both notice a big branch sticking out of an opening to the castle below the balcony. A very familiar looking branch.Ā
āOh dear, help me with this Jeongin?ā You grunt and lean over the railing to get a good hold of the branch, and together, you and the apprentice manage to get it unstuck and turned upright.Ā
āItās a scarecrow!ā Jeonginās eyes are wide as he takes in the elaborately dressed figure.Ā
You shake your head fondly, and dust off your apron. āIāve taken to calling him Turnip Head, and somehow he always manages to get stuck upside down.āĀ
Looking closely, you swear the scarecrowās smile grows wider and it gives you that characteristic twirl before hopping off and jumping in place on one of the castleās large steel pipes.Ā
āHe keeps following me everywhere, like a stray cat,ā you comment to Jeongin as you both watch Turnip Head hop around. āSeems to have taken a liking to me,ā you finish and shrug.Ā
Jeongin looks at you consideringly, āThatās weird, are you sure youāre not a witch?āĀ
You cackle and ruffle his hair, āOh yes, Iām the worst kind of witch! The kind that cleans!ā
The castle settles close to the edge of Star Lake with many clanks and creaks of settling parts, and you, Jeongin, and Turnip Head spend a peaceful afternoon together.Ā
You do load after load of laundry and Turnip Head is full of energy as he helps set up drying lines. You think the scarecrow is still trying to find ways to repay you.Ā
Once thatās done, you and Jeongin set up a table right by the lake and have lunch. You're feeling deeply content, sipping tea and relaxing in the sun.Ā
You and Jeongin chat about whether Turnip Head is a demon or not (you decide yes, but definitely the good kind, like Minho), and what chores you still have left to do, and Jeonginās interest in fashion, hence all the clothes in his room.
Itās getting late by the time Jeongin convinces you to come back inside, the sun is setting and all the laundry has been folded and put away. Even Turnip Head is ready to go in his new favorite spot on top of a pipe sticking out of the castle. So you amble inside the warm castle, and settle in for the night.Ā
It is the early morning hours, just before dawn breaks, by the time the dial over the door switches to black and Han creeps inside. His once pristine outfit is gone, replaced with deep midnight blue feathers and talons.Ā
He falls into the chair in front of the hearth with a heaving sigh, drops his head back, and props his taloned feet up.Ā
āJisungie are you okay? You stink,ā Minho looks over the wizard with concern.Ā
Han groans and the feathers recede slowly until his regular body is back.Ā
āYou shouldnāt keep flying around like that,ā Minho continues to scold him, āSoon youāll be stuck in that form and wonāt turn back human.āĀ
Hearing no reply, Minho decides to let up on the nagging for now.Ā
His eyes land on the neatly stacked firewood nearby and he grabs a log and smiles, āIsnāt this nice? Y/N put these here for me and I didnāt even have to threaten her.āĀ Ā Ā Ā
This seems to get Hanās attention, he sits up and grunts in pain, adjusting his jacket to hold his aching ribs.Ā
āThis war is awful,ā Han begins, āTheyāve bombed all the way from the southern coast to the northern border. Itās all in flames nowā¦ā His voice wavers at the end, thinking of all the destruction the pointless war has brought.
The whispered debrief continues, Minho offering commentary here and there, but also keeping an eye on the way Han seems drained of all energy and life. Minho tried to warn the wizard against flying off and interfering with the war shipsā bombing but no one ever listens to him.Ā
āWait-ā Minho interjects as he tunes back into Hanās tirade about wizards sacrificing their humanity for the war, āarenāt you supposed to report to the king, too?āĀ
Han avoids his eyes and stands, waving his hand dismissively.Ā
āIām tired,ā he claims and starts to walk off, āmake some hot water for my bath please, Jagi.āĀ
Han ignores the predictable complaining from Minho and walks over to the drawn curtain on the alcove under the stairs where the daybed sits.Ā
Presumably, this is where you are sleeping as there are no other beds besides his and Jeonginās in the castle and while youāve been very bold and unapologetic with him so far, he doesnāt think youād dare to intrude on his bed and Jeongin doesnāt like to share. Han makes a mental note to procure another bed for you soon as he carefully parts the curtain to take a peek.Ā
Sure enough, you are curled up under a thick blanket, but Han is frozen in place at the sight of your young and achingly familiar face instead of the wrinkled face of his new cleaning lady. As you take deep and even breathes, his eyes trace greedily over your features.Ā
Each detail is just as he remembered: your pretty eyelashes, your cute nose, your soft-looking lips. And your hair, longer and not silver, is splayed across your pillow, loose from its usual braid.Ā Ā Ā
His mind races as he connects the dots that in the time between dropping you off at the bakery, and you wandering into his castle, youāve had a curse put on you. One that has turned you into an elderly version of yourself, and itās probably a curse you canāt speak about.Ā Ā
The moment stretches on and Han feels guilt well up inside of him that you were cursed for associating with him for just a few moments. But he also feels something warm and tender, unnameable, because all this time, youāve been right under his nose. The girl heās been dreaming aboutā¦Ā
A sharp pop of burning wood snaps Han out of the spell youāve unknowingly put him under. He gently lets the curtain fall closed again, and retreats upstairs, avoiding Minhoās penetrating gaze once again.
The next day started off well enoughā¦Ā
Despite being jolted awake by the roaring sound of water rushing into the tub upstairs in the early morning, youāre cheerful and upbeat as you drag Jeongin out onto the bustling streets of Porthaven for the morning market.Ā
Not even his grumpy mood and petulant comments about the ocean looking āthe same it always looksā or pretending to hate vegetables and fish bring you down.
Everything is normal until a broken down battleship appears in the harbor, drawing all the townsfolk to the docks.Ā
Market stalls now closed, you and Jeongin wandered over to see what all the fuss was about.Ā
Just as you were about to give into Jeonginās pleading to get a closer look, you spotted the Wizard of the Wasteās henchman in the crowd and your heart rate ratcheted up.Ā
As if that werenāt enough, bombs from an enemy airship were dropped into the harbor, flyers fluttering in the wind behind the ship, and panicked people running through the streets.
Not sparing a second, you snatched Jeongin up and began running as quickly as your old bones would allow, leaning heavily on your cane. You donāt stop until youāre both inside the castle, the door shut tight and locked behind you.Ā
Youāre panting and leaning on the wall for support, who knew you could move that fast in your old age?Ā
āAre you okay, Y/N?ā Jeongin looks so worried for you and he tries to help you up the steps, itās surprising and sweet how much he seems to care about you.
āI just need a glass of water,ā you wheeze and hobble over to the chair.Ā
Just as you plop down, an ear-splitting shriek comes from upstairs.Ā
Terrified that something happened to Han, you jump up and Jeongin rushes over to you.
Thunderous footsteps and then a bright orange-haired Han is leaning over the railing, not a stitch of fabric on his steaming, dripping wet body besides a little white towel around his waist⦠Did Minho bump the temperature in the castle up a few degrees while you were out?
āY/N! Youāve ruined me!ā Han wails, and rushes down the stairs, āLook what youāve done to my hair!ā he demands, gripping his hair tight in his fists as he darts over to you.
Han basically shoves his head right into your face until all you can see are the tangerine-colored locks and you think it looks quite pretty on him. Itās a similar shade to Jeonginās but much more vivid.Ā Ā
āWhat a pretty color,ā you say truthfully, but Han is having none of it.Ā
āItās hideous!ā He cries, big pouty eyes boring into yours, all shiny with the start of tears as he sinks to his knees.Ā
Your foolish brain canāt help but note how tempting Han looks right now, on his knees and pouting at you. All honeyed skin, and broad chest with the most grabbable waistā¦
āYou completely ruined my potions in the bathroom!ā He accuses, and a startled laugh slips out of you as you forcefully drag your mind out of the gutter.Ā
Your face feels hot and flushed but you smile fondly at the wizard. āHan, I just organized them! Nothing is ruined, I promise!ā
A truly pitiful whimper is all Han offers and there are definitely tears now.
āI specifically told you not to get carried away and now look!ā Han flops into the chair you were just sitting in, in front of the hearth, and drops his head into his hands, āIām repulsive, I canāt go on like this.ā
Youāre trying to find the words to reassure him (it truly doesnāt look that bad!) when the strands of hair start to rapidly change color. The orange fades into burgundy red, then deep brown, and finally settling into a glossy black shade.Ā
āYou should look at it now, I think this new color is even better!ā you offer, but itās like Han doesnāt even hear you, head still resting in his hands in a defeated hunched over position.Ā
āI give up,ā he whispers dejectedly, āwhatās the point of living if I canāt be beautiful?ā
Shadows start to creep up the walls and slink across the floor and the castle seems to be warping into something sinister. All of the light aside from Minhoās flames is sucked away and an awful howling sounds starts up.Ā
Minho is yelling at Han to stop whatever it is heās doing and you fearfully grasp Jeonginās arm as the shadows fill the room.
āHannie-hyung is calling the Spirits of Darkness,ā Jeongin whispers to you, holding you just as tightly as youāre holding him.
Ā āI saw him do this once before, when he couldnāt get the lyrics right for a song he was writingā
You scoff, yet dig deep to try and find some patience for silly, dramatic wizards.Ā
Adopting a comforting tone, you try again, āNow Hannie, youāll be alright, we can just dye it backāāĀ
The words die in your throat as your hand touches his shoulder because Hanās skin is secreting some weird green goo and you gasp, pulling away quickly.Ā
The goo oozes from his whole body, dripping onto the floor and your patience has officially run out, youāve had just about enough of this drama!
āYou think youāve got it bad?!ā Your voice cracks at the end and youāre ashamed to feel hot, stinging tears welling up in your eyes.Ā
āNo one spares me a second glance because Iāve never been beautiful my whole life!ā you sob and run over to the door, not even caring about what setting the dial is on.Ā
You have got to get out of this blasted house right this second!
The raining landscape of the Wastes greets you and you run down to the lake edge. Stopping just short of the water line you stare out into the distance and sniffle, trying to hold it together.Ā
But nothing can stop your shuddering breaths and the deep well of sadness that has overflowed within you, so you let go and just cry.
Rain soaks your clothes and tears soak your face as you weep.Ā
Your bawling has simmered down to sniffles and a much slower stream of tears when you notice that the freezing raindrops that were pelting you abruptly stop.Ā
You look up in confusion and your heart melts when you see Turnip Head standing over you with a tattered umbrella and his signature smile. Water dripping from his straw hair and soaking his suit.
āThank you Turnip Head, howād you get to be so kind and gentle?ā you give him a genuine smile and wish so strongly in that moment that you could hug him properly. You could use a hug from someone that cares about you.Ā
Alas, Jeongin is running towards you and tugging the sleeve of your dress urgently.
āY/N please come back inside, we need your help!ā he begs and starts yanking your arm in the direction of the castle.Ā
You sigh, but put your wallowing aside and follow him in.
The scene is, quite frankly, ridiculous. Minho is holding a half-burnt log over his head while trying to avoid the puddle of depression-goo creeping closer, yelling, āHan Jisung! You better cut it out right now! Iām going to drown!ā
Han looks the same as when you fled, pathetically drooped over the hearth in just his towel, limbs all folded up, but now surrounded by depression goo. Itās covering the floor surrounding him and flooding the hearth.
Minho lets out a relieved puff of smoke when he sees you and calls out, āY/N do something! Help him please, Y/N!āĀ
Jeongin comes through the door behind you and hovers, āIs he dead?ā he asks you and looks at Han over your shoulder with a worried look on his face.
You chuckle and shake your head, rolling your wet sleeves up your arms, āNo, Innie, heās just throwing a tantrum like a child. Come give me a hand?ā
Together, you and Jeongin push the chair (Han still slumped over in it) over to the stairs, and you tell Jeongin to get the hot water running while you sling Hanās arm over your shoulder and start dragging him up the stairs. The goo is not making this any easier as heās especially slippery, and you try to prompt Han to help you by walking, his legs arenāt broken after all!
You sigh sadly as you glance back at the trail of slime heās leaving all over your freshly scrubbed floors but then you spot that itty bitty white towel that should be around Hanās itty bitty waist laying innocently near the bottom of the stairs.Ā
You squeak and determinedly turn your face up to the ceiling so as to not catch a peek at the rest of the great Wizard Han Jisung until you can deposit him in the bathroom.Ā
Jeongin mock salutes you and promises to get him cleaned up and you close the door.Ā
āNow I have to mop againā¦ā you release a big sigh and get to work.Ā
By the time youāve calmed down after the crazy events of the morning and cleaned the floors (again) itās midday. Hanās been camped out in his room ever since Jeongin got him cleaned up, so you decide to bring him a snack, a peace offering. At least, thatās what you tell yourself.Ā
Thereās no answer when you knock firmly on his door, so you announce that youāre entering anyways and step into the messiest, most maximalist bedroom youāve ever seen.Ā
Despite teasing Jeongin about cleaning his room earlier, you would never invade their privacy like that without permission. So this was your first time seeing Hanās room and yeah⦠cleaning and organizing this room would take you three days minimum.
Your wandering eyes finally land on Han, propped up by a couple pillows and tucked in as if heās on his deathbed.Ā
You shake your head fondly and approach him, āHan? I brought you a little slice of cheesecake.āĀ
One eye peeks open to look at the plate in your hands before closing again just as quickly and you cover your laugh with a small cough.
āDo you want a bite?ā you ask sweetly.
He shakes his head, so you shrug and place the plate on the only free spot on his nightstand. You turn to leave, figuring the wizard just wants to be alone, but a hand catches your wrist and gently tugs you back.
āY/N, wait⦠stay,ā he whispers.
You could easily break free and head back downstairs to be entertained by Minho and Jeongin, but tingles shoot up your arm from where his skin touches yours, and your cheeks heat at the implication that he wants you there.Ā
You take a seat on the edge of his bed, right beside his hip, and note that he is still loosely grasping your wrist, this fact makes you unreasonably flustered and you fidget with a loose thread on the comforter.Ā
Itās quiet for a moment, peaceful, until one of the many decorations hanging from the ceiling starts spinning wildly, bell chiming softly, and Han takes a deep breath and finally opens his eyes.Ā
āThe Wizard of the Waste is searching for my castle,ā he states, and you gasp, suddenly remembering.
āI saw his henchman at the harbor this morning!āĀ
Hanās face drops into a pout as he looks away from you, āIām a coward, all I do is hide, and all the magic stuff is to keep people from realizing how scared and broken I am.āĀ
His tone is so defeated and self-deprecating, you squeeze the hand thatās still holding you in sympathy. Perhaps all of his dramatics are not solely the actions of a spoiled and immature man like you initially thought.
You decide to ask Han something you had wondered since you came to the castle.
āHan, why is the Wizard of the Waste after you in the first place?ā
āWe trained together, a long time ago, and became close friends. We were the most skilled students in our class, and the most beautiful,ā you roll your eyes at that last part but continue to listen.Ā
āBut all the attention made us competitive and we fought a lot. When our instructor chose me to be his apprentice, he was so angry at me that he left⦠but I was too afraid to go after him. As usual, I hid away.āĀ
Boys, you think to yourself and let loose a weary sigh.Ā
āI canāt hide much longer, though. I have to report to the king as both Han Jisung and J.One,ā Han groans and releases your hand to cover his face with a pillow.Ā
You donāt see the big deal though, couldnāt he just refuse the kingās invitation?Ā
When you say as much, Han just points at a piece of paper pinned to the wall by a dagger, āThatās the oath I took when I joined the Royal JYP Sorcery Academy, I have to report to the palace whenever summoned.ā he says, muffled under the pillow but you caught enough to understand.Ā
āI think you should see the king, Han!ā You cross your arms defiantly and grin when he whips the pillow away from his face to stare at you in disbelief.Ā
āIām serious! Tell him the war is pointless and that you refuse to take part!ā you say passionately.
Han flops back dramatically and sighs like youāre being ridiculous, but before you can argue your point more he jumps up with a huge gasp and brings his face so close to yours your noses are practically touching.Ā
It would be so easy to kissā you stop that train of thought before it can get too far.
āIāve got an idea! Why donāt you go to the palace for me?ā he practically shouts and you lean back to protect your ears (no other reason).Ā
āJust say youāre my mother,ā he leans closer, you lean back, āand that your son is too much of a coward to show his face,ā if you lean back any further, youāll fall off the bed, āmaybe then, Professor Chan will finally give up on me!āĀ
Hanās eyes are so big and starry with his excitement, especially this close up, and the proximity has completely derailed your critical thinking. Thatās your excuse when the only thing you manage to say spit out is, āDo you have a mommy kink?ā
You spend most of your walk to the palace theorizing what disguise Han will use to discreetly trail you.Ā
So far youāve ruled out crow, pigeon, and foot soldier (youāre still tense after what happened trying to visit your sister). You think he could be one of those flamboyant pilots flying overhead in their little airships with beautiful women giggling behind them, or maybe a well-dressed gentleman having tea at a cafe you walk past.Ā
You twist the ring Han gave you around thoughtfully as you walk, recalling the way his deep voice rumbled in your ear as he slipped it on your pointer finger with a promise that it would keep you safe.Ā
You try not to think too deeply on the fact that it matches the one he wears and what it all means.Ā
The butterflies in your belly speak to how well thatās going.Ā Ā Ā
A short time later, youāre within the outer walls of the palace. Youāre heading straight towards the impressive palace entrance across the courtyard when you hear little footsteps and the occasional panting noise behind you.
When you look over your shoulder, you see a little dog of all things, trotting along.Ā
It only comes up to your calves, must be a puppy you think. It has golden fur thatās shaggy in the front, almost covering its eyes, and big floppy ears. Itās an odd but very cute disguise.
You glance around to see if anyone is watching, āHan? You disguised yourself as a puppy?ā you quietly ask him. The puppy only gives you a small bark and nips your ankle.Ā
āOw! You little shit,ā you yelp, and consider hitting him with your cane, āIām just saying! You couldnāt pick something more useful? Iām an old lady after all!āĀ
Just as you face forward, a carriage pulls up beside you, carried by blob henchman youāve seen before, and dread fills your stomach.
āLook who it is! The tacky doll from the hat shop,ā drawls the Wizard of the Waste from the window of his opulent carriage. āThanks for passing along my scorching love note to Han, howās he doing by the way?ā
Most of his face is hidden behind a fan, but you can see the way he looks you up and down and the edge of a smirk on his lips .Ā
Your temper flares hot and bright and you glance at puppy-Han to gauge his reaction, but heās unphased, continuing to trot a half-step behind you, so you craft a half-true story.
āHeās acting like a scaredy cat, and heās working me to the bone as his cleaning lady.ā Okay, maybe that story was completely trueā¦
The Wizard of the Waste giggles and closes the fan with a flourish. You can see all of his face now, and it just grinds your gears that heās gorgeous. Heās wearing makeup that highlights his sharp features, and his long hair is artfully styled.
āSo what business do you have at the palace, doll?ā The wizard asks conversationally, fiddling with his hair in a small compact mirror.
āJob hunting, Iām sick of working for Han,ā you lie, āAnd what about yourself?ā You try to act disinterested.
āI received a royal invitation,ā he purrs, looking quite pleased with himself. āThat idiot, Bang Chan finally realized how much he needs my powers.āĀ
āIf youāre so great, why donāt you break the curse you put on me!ā You bite back, but he justĀ laughs again.Ā
āSorry doll,ā you really doubt that, āmy talent lies in casting spells, not breaking them!āĀ
He snaps his fingers, and the henchman pick up the pace, taking the infuriating wizard away while you shout after them angrily.
You huff and cut your eyes over to the puppy, āIf I didnāt have you to worry about, I would have whooped him!ā you grumble. The puppyās answering bark sounds suspiciously like a laugh.
Soon after, you approach the massive staircase that leads to the palace entrance. You spot the Wizard of the Waste, henchman suspiciously absent, slowly lumbering up the stairs in that heavy looking black fur coat, but pay him no mind and begin climbing the steps yourself.
Youāve only made it up a few stairs when you hear a high-pitched whine from the bottom.Ā
Of course Han chose a form that wasnāt big enough to climb the stairs on his own. He rests his snout on the bottom step and looks up at you with the biggest puppy eyes and you fold immediately with a big sigh.
Dog in hand, you start up the steps a second time, slower now with the extra weight.Ā
āHan! Why are you so heavy?ā You grunt and curse him out thoroughly in your head.
When you pass the panting and profusely sweating Wizard, he pleads with youĀ to help him too.Ā
āWhat was that?ā you call over your shoulder, āYou remembered how to break the spell you put on me?āĀ
A loud and dramatic groan is all you get, so you keep on climbing.Ā
About halfway up, you set puppy-Han down and catch your breath. You look down at the Wizard of the Waste, so far behind you and absolutely gasping for air, with pity.
āWhy donāt you just give up? Youāre killing yourself!ā you shout down to him.
āIāve waited too long to be invited back here, ever since Bang Chan banished me to the Wastes!ā he growls and brushes sweaty strands of hair from his face.
You almost feel bad for him, but then you remember your old body and harden your heart.Ā
āCāmon Han, letās go,ā you gather the puppy and continue climbing what feels like a mountain of stairs.
Once you make it to the top, youāre absolutely exhausted. You set the puppy down and almost keel over trying to catch your breath.Ā
One of the attendants of the castle politely requests that you follow him inside, but you feel a strange need to make sure the wizard that cursed you makes it to the top. Maybe his story did touch your heart a little bit.
With some encouraging cheers and pep talks (that were decidedly not appreciated) he makes it and you walk in together, puppy-Han right behind you of course.Ā
You notice that where before, the wizard towered above you with intimidating height, now heās hunched over and small looking, relying on your cane to walk and still dripping sweat.
Your cover is almost blown when the staff announcing your presence call you āMother of Han Jisungā, but the Wizard of the Waste, whoās name you now know is Hyunjin, is too focused on recovering from the stairs to notice.
The attendant that was leading the way directs you to a fancy room with a single chair, which is claimed by Hyunjin almost immediately.Ā
He quickly plops down and itās like his bones turned to liquid the way heās sinks into it, like heās turned into a big ferret.
But you canāt focus on him because puppy-Han runs off down some dark corridor and he ignores your frantic calling to come back.Ā
With no choice, you hurry after him.
The corridor seems like a dead end, but a secret door slides open abruptly, startling you. Behind it stands a young boy in what looks like a fancy school uniform. He has a pleasant smile on his beautiful face when he says, āThis way maāam.āĀ
You donāt see puppy-Han anywhere, so this must be your only option, you think, and follow him into a huge conservatory. The walls and ceiling are made completely of glass and its idyllic inside, filled with huge eucalyptus trees and exotic flowers that you canāt even name.
The boy leads you to an open area where you spy two chairs, one big and ornate, and the other nice but plain looking.Ā
Sitting in the big chair is a man. Strong jaw, short dark hair, and casual clothes, heās commanding and very attractive. Is that a requirement to work here?Ā
He chats with the boy that led you here for a moment before the boy leaves, and the man turns to address you.
āSo youāre Hanās mother I hear?ā he smiles and you notice two dimples pop out, you nod mindlessly.Ā
āYou must be tired, have a seat!ā he gestures to the other chair.Ā
You thank him and gingerly sit down.
āI am Professor Bang Chan, His Majestyās head sorcerer and director of the Sorcery Training Academy, but you can just call me Chris!ā
As he introduces himself, your eyes wander over to a staff resting on the side table right next to his chair, and they nearly pop out of your head when you see the puppy resting underneath it.Ā
āThatās not⦠your dog is it?ā You cautiously ask.Ā
āHis name is Seungmin,ā Chris answers breezily, āHeās my errand dog, I had him escort you here.ā
You nearly facepalm after hearing that. All the things you said, thinking he was Han! Surely heāll use his doggy magic to tell on you to the professor.
The man in question lets out a rumbly chuckle and rests his chin on his fist, āI take it Han wonāt be joining us?ā
Determined to salvage the visit, you tell him the story you rehearsed the whole way over; about how Han is too cowardly to show up, and that heād be useless to the king.
Chris has a contemplative look on his face as he takes this in and nods along with a sigh, like heās disappointed.Ā
āIām sorry to hear that, Han was the first and last apprentice I ever took on. Iāve never seen a more well-rounded and gifted student,ā he explains.Ā
Youāre shocked to learn that Chris was training Han to be his replacement.
āUntil the day his heart was stolen by a demon. He never returned to complete his apprenticeship and has been using his magic for reckless and selfish reasons ever since.ā Chrisās voice grows more stern as he speaks and it has you sitting ramrod straight like a student getting scolded.
However, your respect towards Chrisās apparent wisdom and authority starts to waver when he starts to speak about Hanās morality, claiming that heās ādangerousā now that he has no heart.Ā
How dare he compare him to the Wizard of the Waste!
āBring him in.ā Chris orders, and an identical boy to the one that brought you into the conservatory wheels in a nearly unrecognizable figure.
āWhat did you do to him?ā you breathe out, horrified.
Itās Hyunjin, but gone is the smug attitude, and flashy clothes and makeup. Even his long, inky hair is gone. Whatās left is a lean figure huddled up his now too-big fur coat, cowering from you when you go to touch his shoulder, with a buzzed head.Ā
āI just removed all the glamors and restored him to his natural state, all his powers are gone now.ā Chris says evenly, watching you with a calculating look. āOnce, he too was an impressive sorcerer with so much potential. But he fell prey to a demon of envy that slowly consumed him, body and soul.āĀ Ā Ā
You loathe the casual way that Chris is talking about all of this, like itās a childrenās story instead of real peopleās lives. Like they are misbehaving pawns in his game of chess.Ā
āIf Han reports to me and vows to use his powers to serve the kingdom, Iāll show him how to break from his demon,ā Chris leans forward with his elbows on his knees and crosses his fingers in front of his face, his eyes are hard when you meet his gaze. āIf not, Iāll strip him of all his powers. Just like that.ā he gestures towards Hyunjin.
āThat is enough!ā You proclaim and shoot up from your chair. Seungmin jolts awake from his snoozing.
āNow I know why Han was too scared to come see you, this is all a trap! You lure people here with an invitation from the King and then strip them of all their powers!
āHan is not heartless! He may be selfish and cowardly, and certainly dramatic, but his intentions are good.ā
You donāt notice, so wrapped up in your passionate speech, but the more you speak from your heart, the younger you get, until youāre back to your real age and normal body.Ā
āHan wonāt come here and he doesnāt need your help. He can fix his problem with his demon on his own, Iām certain of it!ā you finish, full of pride for your wizard.
Itās silent for a second, and then Chris full body laughs.
āAhh, now I see,ā Chris runs his hands through his hair and gathers himself, āYouāre in love with Han Jisung.āĀ
You recoil, quickly reverting back to old-lady Y/N, and Hyunjin speaks up for the first time, grasping your skirts and crying about Hanās heart belonging to him.Ā
āHan is not coming here, okay? Stop that Hyunjin,ā you try to placate him.
Chris settles back into his chair and sighs, āOh I think he is, I now know his weakness.ā
Outside the glass windows of the conservatory, you both watch a small airship land in the grass. One of Chrisās servant boys opens a door and in steps the King.
This is your first time seeing him up close and your first thought is that heās jacked; thick arms and thighs, and a chest so buff itās straining his jacket. Heās also shorter than you expected, probably shorter than Han.Ā
āKing Changbin,ā Chris bows from his seat and keeps a small smile on his face as they speak. You watch on quietly until the King asks about your presence.
Chris swings his arm out towards you and says, āThis is Han Jisungās mother, Mrs. Y/N.ā
The King approaches you and stops just a foot away. You stare at his chin, where you notice a small scar, until you gather the courage to look into his eyes.Ā
King Changbin is just as handsome as all the ladies in your hat shop gushed about. You flush and give him an awkward curtsey.
āThanks for coming,ā King Changbin starts, ābut Iāve decided not to use magic to win this war. We have tried using the Professorās magic to shield our palace from the enemyās bombs, but the bombs fall on civilian homes instead. Thatās the problem with magic, isnāt it Professor Chan?āĀ
Chris still has that polite smile on his face as he tilts his head in acknowledgment, āYouāre so eloquent today, Your Majesty.ā
āChannie!ā A different King Changbin yells and strides confidently over to your group, waving a paper over his head.Ā
Ā Bewildered, you look back and forth between the King thatās standing right in front of you and the one talking loudly with Chris about new battle plans, waving his hands animatedly.Ā
āWeāre going to beat them to a pulp and get my Lixie back in no time!ā
He suddenly notices the identical version of himself standing by your side and dissolves into a high-pitched laugh thatās so opposite to his overall masculine demeanor.Ā
āChannie this is the best double youāve made of me yet! Ha! Keep up the good work!ā and off he goes, loudly chattering until he disappears into another secret corridor.Ā
Settling back into his seat, Chris crosses his legs and regards you and not-King Changbin with a cool and amused look.Ā
You think your jaw is still somewhere on the floor.Ā
āSo nice to see you again Jisung-ah, although that was a pretty weak disguise,ā Chan says.
āYouāre looking good Professer Chanā replies Hanās voice.Ā
You whip around and see that it truly is Han next to you, in the same outfit the King was wearing.Ā
āI wasnāt trying to trick you,ā Han pulls you into his side with a protective arm around your waist and your traitorous heart flutters at the warmth, āI kept my oath and reported when summoned. Now mother and I will go.āĀ
Though itās not the time, you mumble āI knew it was a mommy thing,ā to yourself anyways.
āI think not,ā Chris states and claps his hands twice.Ā
Huge waves of water materialize out of the floor under his chair and quickly fill the room, until youāre all submerged.Ā
The waves fade away and now you are suspended in the air, and much like that fateful meeting with Han, his arm is around your shoulders, keeping you steady. Distantly, you feel Hyunjin grasping your dress and trying to keep from being blown away.Ā
āWhatever you do, donāt look down,ā Han warns lowly in your ear.
āI think itās time you show Ms. Y/N what you really are, yeah?ā Chris throws his arms out and grins wide.
What happens next, you donāt really understand.Ā
What looked like shooting stars zipped past and scattered balls of light everywhere. It was sort of beautiful. But when they turned into little human-like figures and started circling and chanting, you started to worry.Ā
Hyunjin was so scared, all he could do was whimper and hide his face in your dress.Ā
Then Han started to change.
The arm that was wrapped around you transformed into a huge wing with talons, and Hanās face sprouted feathers. It was like a great winged-beast was taking over him, a huge beast with sharp fangs.Ā
Painful cries escaped Hanās throat, but amidst the chaos, you saw Chris closing in with a big glowing staff raised over his head like a spear.Ā
Han saw Chris too but it was like he was frozen, just growling and staring at him.Ā
āHan, please listen to me! Itās a trap!ā You begged, scrambling to cover Hanās eyes.Ā
It must have worked, Han shot up like a rocket. Just in time too, Chrisās staff pinned your hat to the chair you were sitting in earlier.Ā
You all flew up rapidly and burst out of the magic-scape and through the ceiling, sending shards of glass raining down everywhere.
Hanās huge wings protected you from any damage and they disappeared by the time he carefully deposited you and Hyunjin on the mini airship parked outside.Ā
He started the ship in a second and pulled away, but not before a certain dog came running and launched himself into your lap.Ā
āBaby, come sit up here!ā Han had called, and you shifted Seungmin into Hyunjinās lap and took the pilot seat. He ribbed you about your stowaways, but what were you supposed to do? Kick them off the airship?!Ā Ā Ā Ā
It was harrowing, flying an airship for the first time with only a bit of reassurance from HanĀ before he departed to draw the palaceās airships away.Ā
You know he was just trying to distract you, saying all that stuff about you giving him the courage to face Chris, about you saving him, but it worked. You successfully navigated the three of you out of Kingsbury by following the glowing light of the ring that pointed to Minho.Ā Ā
Which brings you to your current situation.Ā
Itās dark, youāve flown (through rain mind you) all the way past your town and into the Wastes, and finally you can see the castle up ahead.Ā
āThe castle is coming to meet us!ā You yell over your shoulder to Hyunjin, who is bundled up in his coat and replies with ānice doggyā, and Seungmin, who pops his head out from inside Hyunjinās coat to woof at you.Ā
Only, as you get closer, you realize something very important: you donāt know how to land this thing!Ā
Jeongin shouts your name and waves from his balcony and you grip the steering wheel of the airship tight.Ā
āJeongin!āĀ you shout back, āInnie, help me! I donāt know how to land this thing!āĀ
Itās no matter, the mouth of the castle opens wide and you crash land it in its belly, which happens to be the living room. Bricks and beams of wood and furniture go flying.Ā
Jeongin rushes down the stairs, wading through the rubble and dust to get to you, but he stops short when he sees the Wizard of the Waste and a dog pop out first. āWhat the fuāā
āInnie, Iām home~ā you sing and carefully pick your way over, tossing the now-detached steering wheel carelessly behind you. Jeongin holds his hands out to help guide you down and then yanks you into a hug, āAre you hurt? I missed you!ā he cries and squeezes you tight.
You cradle his head close, āIām okay and I missed you too!ā
You rub your cheek against his until he pulls away with a whine, and itās true, youāre so happy to be back home.
I really hope you enjoyed this chapter!Ā
We got to see some new characters, maybe learned the identities of previous ones š, and my my my things sure are developing with reader and Hanā¦
And surprise! This story will have 3 parts!Ā
I just couldnāt fit everything into a second part unless I wanted to make it like 4x the length of the first part, and I want more time to flesh everything out properly.
Anyways, thanks for reading and see you for the 3rd and final part soon! š
This is a reimagining of Howlās Moving Castle, in no way am I claiming the plot as my own work, only the reimagined characters belong to me (@staytinyweeniebeanie). Additionally, I do not consent to my work being reposted on other platforms without permission!
Reblogs and Comments are always welcome and highly appreciated!
warnings: ok snot smutty really but ig mentions of alcohol or being under the influence šš
-> ok ok YAYYYY i made scenarios some fluffy some smutty bc like i wrote headcanons for this before but its my OLD writing so its really ew, this is fresh n written better than my old shit. also i got three more hirono popmarts omgomg; two were gifted, one i got myself lol and.. HAPPY BIRTHDAY HJ WHOO
-> pls i wanna write freak hyunjin or felix stuff... (REQ ME PLEASE TEHEE) but like also keep in mind that all the stories i write, the characters involved are meant to be of legal age.
the moment chan gets drunk, his already affectionate nature turns overwhelmingāhe isnāt just clingy, heās downright intoxicated with love, eyes glazed over with nothing but you in his vision, a lazy smile curling at his lips as he drapes himself over your body like youāre the only thing keeping him steady. his hands? everywhere. his lips? all over your skin, mumbling slurred praises between each press of his mouth. "you have no idea how much i love you, huh? nah, you donāt get itāfuck, you donāt get it at all." his voice is warm, a little hoarse, the raspiness making it even heavier with longing. "iād give up everything just to lay here with you forever, swear on my life, baby."
heās an absolute messāshirt unbuttoned halfway, exposing the sweat-damp skin of his chest, hair sticking to his forehead as he pulls you onto his lap, arms winding around your waist in an unbreakable grip. his breath is laced with the scent of whiskey and something sweeter, something uniquely him, and every inhale sends a shiver down your spine. he doesnāt let you move much, and if you so much as try to pull away, he whinesādesperate, needy, like his whole world is crumbling at the thought of being apart from you for even a second. "nah, stay, please, cāmonājust let me hold you, lemme have this, lemme have you."
his drunken adoration turns almost worshipful, hands tracing the curves of your face, the slope of your nose, the line of your jaw as if heās memorising you all over again. he presses his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut, and breathes you in, a reverent sigh escaping his lips. "youāre unreal, yāknow that? too good for me. donāt even know what i did to deserve you." he laughs, but thereās something almost broken behind it, something raw. "wish i could keep you in my pocket. keep you all to myself, all mine, forever."
heās almost feverish with how much he needs you close, fingers tangling in your hair, lips brushing against your cheek, jaw, neckāeverywhere he can reach. his voice is low, deep, so thick with emotion itās almost impossible to breathe. "if i wake up tomorrow and youāre not here, i swear iāll lose my fucking mind. promise me you wonāt leave. promise me youāre mine." his words are barely above a whisper, desperate and full of something so much deeper than just intoxicated affection.
by the end of the night, heās practically passed out against you, head resting in the crook of your neck, arms locked around your waist like a vice. but even in sleep, he doesnāt let goāhis grip stays firm, his body curled into yours like youāre the only thing grounding him. and even then, in his drunken slumber, he still murmurs your name under his breath, like a prayer, like a promise, like youāre the only thing that matters in his entire world.
ģ“ėÆ¼ķø ~ lee minho ~ your dangerously flirtatious, tipsy boss who suddenly canāt keep his hands to himself
minho starts the night with that lazy, arrogant smirk you know all too well, leaning back in his chair with a glass of soju dangling between his fingers, his gaze heavy on you even as he pretends not to care. but the alcohol changes himāmakes him bolder, slower, his usual controlled demeanour melting into something more indulgent, more self-indulgent, more fixated. his voice drops lower, words rolling off his tongue like honey as he tilts his head, eyes locked onto yours. "yāknow, i should probably fire you for making it so hard to focus at work." he hums, tapping his fingers against the rim of his glass. "how the fuck am i supposed to run a company when you walk in looking like that every day?"
he doesnāt just flirt, he devours you with his gaze, the alcohol making him audacious in a way that borders on reckless. when he leans in close, the scent of expensive liquor and his cologne fills your senses, intoxicating in its own right. his lips brush against the shell of your ear as he murmurs, "always wondered how youād look like thisāflustered, trapped under my gaze, nowhere to run. you like this? having my full attention? fuck, i bet you do."
minho is a tease even when sober, but drunk? heās merciless. fingers trailing over your thigh, a smirk playing at his lips as he watches you squirm under the intensity of his stare. "you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and iām gonna forget iām supposed to be your boss." his voice is barely above a whisper, but the weight behind it is suffocating, like a noose tightening around your throat.
at some point, his restraint shatters entirely. he pulls you onto his lap, his grip firm, possessive, his breath hot against your skin. "fuck the rules," he mutters, eyes dark with something carnal, something dangerous. "fuck everything. justāstay here, let me have this, let me have you." he kisses you then, slow and deep, like heās been starving for it. and maybe he has. maybe the alcohol just stripped away the last of his self-control.
by the time the night is over, heās an absolute messātie undone, hair mussed, his head resting against your shoulder as he lets out a soft, satisfied sigh. his fingers are still tangled with yours, grip loose but unwavering, a silent claim, a wordless confession. "youāre not gonna quit on me, yeah?" he murmurs, voice laced with drowsy amusement. "not after all this. not after tonight." and even in his drunken haze, his smirk is still there, lazy and all-consuming.
ģģ°½ė¹ ~ seo changbin ~ your best friend whoās suddenly too drunk and too in love to hide it anymore
changbin is the type to laugh too loud and drink too fast, and when the alcohol finally hits, he doesnāt just get drunkāhe unravels. every wall, every filter, every restraint shatters, leaving nothing but raw, unfiltered honesty in its wake. and the first thing out of his mouth? "youāre my favourite person in the whole fucking world, yāknow that?"
he gets clingy, in a way he never lets himself be when sober. arms wrapped around you, face buried in your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he mumbles, "i thinkāfuck, i think i love you." his voice cracks, raw with vulnerability, and when he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are glassy, desperate, like heās terrified of what he just admitted.
he doesnāt let goānot even when you try to pull away, not even when you tease him about how drunk he is. "nah, donāt laugh at me, ām serious. i love you, i do. have for years. ugh, why am i saying this nowāwhy now? i think ām gonna cry."
by the time he sobers up, heās still holding onto you, arms locked around your waist like an anchor, his grip loose but unwavering. and even when the alcohol fades, even when the night ends, his words still lingerābecause they werenāt just drunken ramblings. they were the truth.
hyunjin is always a little dramatic, a little too intense for his own good, but when heās drunk? god, he turns into something else entirely. he leans back in his sofa, eyes half-lidded, lips curling into a soft, almost lazy smile as he watches you across the lounge room, the other coworkers here for his little dinner party blending into the artworks hung up around his house. his fingers toy with the rim of his glass, movements slow, deliberate, like heās waiting for the perfect moment to strike. "yāknow," he starts, voice thick with alcohol and something deeper, something laced with longing, "i think the universe made you just to ruin me."
he gets poetic, words dripping from his lips like honey, each sentence weaving into the next like heās composing a love letter in real time once he's got you sat right next to him. "do you even know what you do to me? how you look under these dim lights, like a paintingāno, like a dream, one i donāt ever wanna wake up from." his fingers trail along the condensation on his glass, tracing patterns he canāt focus on because his eyes are locked on you, drowning in you.
at some point, the alcohol makes him bolderāmore needy. his hand finds yours, fingers threading together like itās the most natural thing in the world. his eyes widen slightly when he feels your hand fit snugly into his, he's always imagined what they would feel like- he's fantasised about holding every part of you ever since you became his secretary. "i shouldnāt be saying this," he whispers, eyes flickering to your lips before snapping back up to meet your gaze. "but i think about you all the time. at work, at home, in my fucking dreamsāyou haunt me, and i think i like it."
heās a mess of contradictions; too smooth yet too vulnerable, his usual sharp wit dulled by the weight of his emotions. when he pulls you closer, his breath is warm against your skin, his voice barely above a whisper. "if i kiss you right now, will you hate me in the morning?" he asks, but he doesnāt wait for an answer. his lips find yours in a kiss so slow, so deep, it feels like drowning, like surrender, like every unspoken thought finally slipping between parted lips.
by the end of the night, heās resting his head in your lap, fingers still tangled with yours, your clothes lay discarded at the foot of his bed as he presses kisses to your stomach. "youāll still come to the office tomorrow, right?" he murmurs, half-lost in a drunken haze but still terrified of what comes next. "even if i was stupid tonight. even if i said too much- did.. too much." and when you nod, when you promise youāre not going anywhere, his grip tightens just a little, like heās holding onto a dream he never wants to end.
ķģ§ģ± ~ han jisung ~ your drunk, shameless senior who suddenly forgets what "professionalism" means
jisung is already a menace sober, but when heās drunk? heās dangerous. the alcohol makes him fearless, utterly devoid of shame, and the way he leans against you, lips curled in a mischievous smirk, tells you that youāre in trouble. his voice is thick with liquor and arrogance as he tilts his head, eyes flickering over you like heās seeing you for the first time. "yāknow, iāve been thinking..." he drawls, taking another sip from his glass, "workplace relationships are frowned upon, yeah? but technically, technically," he leans in close, lips brushing against your ear, "i donāt give a shit."
heās relentlessāwords slurred but sharp, teasing but loaded with something much heavier. when you try to brush him off, he just grins wider, fingers lazily tracing patterns on your thigh. "ohhh, donāt act all innocent," he purrs, tilting his head, "iāve seen how you look at me in the office. thought i wouldnāt notice? ām not that oblivious, sweetheart." his laughter is breathy, dark, and when you roll your eyes, he chuckles. "cāmon, donāt play hard to get. not when i know youāre just as fucked for me as i am for you."
jisung is a flirt by nature, but drunk jisung? heās tactile. he touches, he lingers, he pulls you closer with no intention of letting go. and when the teasing wears off, something softer replaces itāhis fingers brushing over your cheek, his gaze flickering down to your lips, his voice dropping into something dangerously intimate. "you look real pretty like this, yāknow?" he murmurs, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. "all worked up, all nervousā i could eat you alive."
the moment you call him out, the tips of his ears turn red, but he refuses to back down. instead, he doubles down, laughing as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "fuck, i think i like you too much," he mumbles, words muffled but clear enough to send a shiver down your spine. "dunno what the hell ām supposed to do about it, though."
by the end of the night, heās still latched onto you, head resting on your lap as he blinks up at you sleepily. "donāt tell HR, yeah?" he murmurs, voice laced with amusement, but thereās something sincere behind it, something real. and when his fingers squeeze yours, just once, itās not just drunken affection anymoreāitās a confession.
felix is already affectionate when sober, but when heās drunk? heās overwhelming. the alcohol makes him weepy, makes him hold onto you like youāre his lifeline, his deep brown eyes swimming with unshed tears as he pouts. "why are you so fucking perfect?" he slurs, voice thick with emotion, "itās not fair. ās not fucking fair."
he clings to youāarms around your waist, face buried against your shoulder, mumbling incoherent praises against your skin. "youāre so good to me, yāknow that? so fucking good. no oneās everā" his breath hitches, and suddenly, heās sniffling. "shit, ām gonna cry." and he does, but itās soft, quiet, full of love that heās been holding back for way too long.
when you try to tease him, he just sniffles harder, shaking his head. "nah, iās not funny," he mumbles, voice wobbling, "i mean it. youāre the best thing thatās ever happened to me. dunno what iād do without you." his grip tightens around your waist, his voice dropping into something raw. "wish i could keep you forever."
he gets extra soft the drunker he getsāfingers brushing over your face, lips pressing lazy kisses against your cheek, forehead, nose, anywhere he can reach. "yāknow, if i was braver, iād kiss you right now," he murmurs, voice thick with longing. "but ām too much of a coward, huh?"
by the time he starts sobering up, heās still holding onto you, face tucked into your neck as he breathes you in. "promise you wonāt leave me," he mumbles, voice barely above a whisper. and when you squeeze his hand in reassurance, his whole body relaxes, a soft, sleepy smile tugging at his lips as his eyes flicker to yours and fixate on them and before he knows it, before his mind can catch up to his mouth, he's slumped forward and kissing you.
ź¹ģ¹ėƼ ~ kim seungmin ~ your snarky rival who, when drunk, admits heās completely obsessed with you
seungmin is competitive as hell when sober, always challenging you, always teasing, always finding ways to one-up you. but drunk seungmin? heās completely ruined for you. slumped against the bar, his usual sharp tongue replaced with lazy smirks and half-lidded stares, he watches you with an expression that borders on reverent. "yāknow whatās annoying?" he drawls, twirling his drink in his hand. "you. youāre fucking annoying."
he leans in, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, his lips quirking up. "so fucking annoying, walking around like you donāt know youāre the most distracting person iāve ever met." his gaze drops to your lips for just a second before flicking back up, sharp, unreadable. "bet you love it, huh? knowing youāre the only one who can make me lose my mind. listening to me gush over you since no one else does."
his usual sarcastic edge is softened by the alcohol, but it doesnāt make him any less intense. "god, i fucking hate you," he mutters, but the way his fingers brush against yours, the way his knee presses against yours under the table, tells a completely different story. "hate you for making me feel like this. hate you for being the only thing i think about when i should be working."
at some point, his bravado cracks. he sighs, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, his voice dropping into something softer. "iām screwed, arenāt i?" he murmurs, more to himself than to you as he fiddles with the sleeve of your sweater, rubbing the fabric between his fingers and eyes dilating at the small sliver of skin that becomes visible when he lifts it up slightly. "i think i might love you."
when he sobers up, he pretends he doesnāt remember, but the way his ears burn red, the way he canāt meet your gaze, tells you otherwise. and when you smirk at him, he just scoffs, looking away. "shut up." but the pink dusting his cheeks? it says everything.
ģģ ģø ~ yang jeongin ~ your shy junior who gets way too bold after a few drinks
jeongin is shy, careful, always tiptoeing around you when sober. but drunk? heās reckless. eyes dark, lips parted, he leans against you, gaze flickering up through his lashes as he whispers, "youāre so fucking pretty." you just laugh and smile, a little tipsy but cooing at how sweet he is when he's drunk as his fingers run around the rim of the shot glass in your hand.
he loses his filter entirely, fingers ghosting over your wrist, tracing the lines of your palm with his free hand as he hums. "always wanted to tell you that," he admits, tilting his head, "but i got nervous." he laughs, breathless before taking the shot glass from your hands and downing it himself. "still nervous. just⦠donāt care anymore."
the alcohol makes him bolder, makes him stare longer, makes him linger when he touches you as he takes your hand in his fully now. "i think about you all the time," he confesses, voice raw. "dunno what to do about it." you're trying to keep your head clear; one stream of consciousness tells you that you should be shutting this down now and that he's your junior, he shouldn't be feeling like this about you- the other one's telling you to give into his compliments and kiss him.
when you decide to stay neutral and tease him instead, he just pouts, burying his face in your neck. "dāyou like making me flustered?" he whines. "fuck, ās not fair. youāre too cute."
by the time the night ends and everyone's left your apartment for the night, heās half-asleep against you, arms curled and legs wrapped around your frame in your lap. "donāt let go," he murmurs. and when you promise you wonāt, he just sighs satisfied, nuzzling closer, completely yours.