⋆｡🦈 ˚.⋆ Summary: You went to the SAP Center to watch another Sharks game. During warm-ups, you expected to see Will Smith completely focused on the ice. What you didn't expect was that, between laps, his gaze would start searching for yours. And that a simple puck tossed over the glass could carry much more meaning than it should.
⋆｡🦈 ˚.⋆ The ice reflected the white lights as the players took their warm-up laps. The sound of skates scratched the surface, mingling with the echo of the crowd's lively chatter. You were leaning against the glass, your hands tucked inside the oversized sleeves of a jersey that seemed a bit too big for you, your fingertips brushing the cold glass. You hadn't planned on being so close to the rink, but from there, the view of the game made your heart race in a different way.
In the center of the rink, Will seemed to be in a world of his own, moving with that confidence as he alternated between rapid shots and playing around with his stick. But as the minutes ticked by, that concentration began to waver.
He rounded the curve at the back of the rink, and for a second, his visor tilted in your direction. At first, you thought it was just the reflection of the game, but on the third lap, he held your gaze for a split second longer. You felt those butterflies in your stomach, among the thousands of people there, he had chosen to focus all his attention exactly on you. There was a spark of curiosity there, a genuine interest that made your face flush. He seemed to have noticed the way you huddled into your oversized jersey, watching him with admiration.
The horn blared, signaling the end of the warm-up, and the organized chaos of players moving toward the tunnel. Will, however, slowed down, letting his teammates pass ahead. He came to a smooth stop right in front of you, his chest rising and falling under his pads, his breath forming small clouds of vapor in the cold air that fogged the glass. Sweat trickled down his temples, his cheeks were flushed from the cold and the exertion, and that spark in his eyes seemed to blend charm and audacity.
He scooped the puck off the ice and held it against the glass, right at the level of your hands tucked inside your jersey. He didn’t hand it over immediately: he waited for you to look up. His smile was wide and genuine, making your heart skip a beat. Will leaned in a bit closer, almost touching his helmet to the glass to close the distance between you. "For you." he said, almost imperceptibly, followed by a light sigh and a shake of his head, looking secretly pleased that he’d managed to get your attention.
When you took it, the weight of the puck in your hand felt cold and solid against your warm skin, contrasting with the chill of the arena. Your fingers trembled as you closed them around the object. "Thank you!" you said, your voice nearly fading into the noise of the crowd. Will didn’t just move on. He bit his lower lip, a distractedly charming gesture, and gave you a short nod with his glove. As he spun on his skates to head toward the tunnel, he looked back over his shoulder one last time, making sure you were still there with his puck in your hands.
That last glance over his shoulder implied that his true victory today wouldn't be reflected on the scoreboard, but in the moment he could find you again without the glass between you.
Summary: Valentine’s Day was supposed to be different this year.
You had the outfit, the plans, the hope that maybe just once your boyfriend would choose you.
Instead, you’re left sitting alone in the warm Caribbean night, phone in hand, watching him live a life that doesn’t include you. A quick stop at a bodega turns into an unexpected conversation with a stranger who listens instead of excuses, who sees you instead of forgetting you.
Sometimes love doesn’t come in roses and reservations.
Sometimes it comes in the form of someone who stays.
Warnings: 18+ content,mdi ( minors do not interact) Smut, Hurt/comfort,
Sexual tension, P in V , Unprotected sex( wrap before you tap) , Exhibitionism, Oral sex ( F receiving), Emotional neglect,Disappointment, Loneliness ,Light angst, Hurt/comfort, Unhealthy relationship dynamics.
Word Count:
~2.12k
🍒 A/n: Hi loves. This is a Valentine’s Day hurt/comfort piece with a little heat and a lot of feelings.
——-
He Didn’t Show Up. Someone Else Did.
The humid Caribbean breeze carried the faint scent of salt and blooming jasmine through the open balcony doors of your San Juan apartment. Valentine’s Day had dawned with promise pink skies over the ocean, the kind that made you believe in second chances. You’d spent the afternoon perfecting your look, standing in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, appreciating the way your light skin glowed under the soft afternoon light filtering through the sheer curtains. Your heritage whispered through your features: full lips that curved into a natural pout, high cheekbones that caught the shadows just right, and those thick, bouncy curls that framed your face like a crown. As a plus sized woman, you carried your curves with confidence wide hips that swayed when you walked, a soft belly that spoke of real life and real beauty, and thighs that rubbed together in the most comforting way. Stretch marks traced silvery paths across your hips and breasts, like delicate lightning on your warm, light brown skin, badges of the body you'd grown into and loved fiercely.
You’d chosen a sleek black dress for tonight, one that hugged every inch of your voluptuous form. The fabric was stretchy and forgiving, clinging to the swell of your breasts, cinching at your waist to accentuate the flare of your hips, and ending mid-thigh to show off legs that could command a room. It was off-the-shoulder, exposing the smooth expanse of your collarbone and the gentle roll of your shoulders. Underneath, a lacy black bra and matching panties cradled your full figure, the kind that made you feel sexy even on off days. Your curls were pinned up in an elegant updo, a few tendrils escaping to brush your neck, and you’d slipped on strappy gold sandals that added a few inches to your height without sacrificing comfort. Jasmine perfume dotted your wrists and the hollow of your throat the scent he once said drove him wild. Dinner reservations at that cliffside spot in Old San Juan, where the waves crashed below like applause. This year, you told yourself, he’d show. He’d choose you over whatever pulled him away last time work, friends, the endless excuses.
But as the clock ticked past 8 PM, your phone stayed silent. No texts, no calls. You refreshed his socials out of habit, and there it was: a story from some club in Condado, him grinning with a bottle in hand, surrounded by people who weren’t you. The caption? “Vibes only.” Your chest tightened, that familiar ache blooming like a bruise across your soft curves. You typed out a message Where are you? and hit send. Dots appeared, then vanished. Nothing.
Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them back, careful not to smudge the winged liner that sharpened your almond shaped eyes a nod to the Black roots that gave them their depth and expressiveness. Not tonight. You grabbed your purse, a small black clutch that matched your dress, and slipped on a light cardigan to ward off the evening chill, though the night was anything but cold. Needing air, needing to move before the walls closed in, you stepped out. The streets of San Juan pulsed with life even at this hour couples strolling hand-in-hand, laughter spilling from open bars, reggaeton beats thumping from passing cars. Your dress swished against your thick thighs as you walked aimlessly, the warmth of the night wrapping around your plus-sized frame like a reluctant embrace, until your throat burned for something cold. A bodega glowed ahead, its neon sign flickering invitingly.
Inside, the air was cooler, stocked with shelves of plantains, sodas, and those little packets of tropical candy. You headed for the cooler, your hips brushing a display as you reached for a bottle of Medalla, when a voice broke the quiet hum of the fridge.
“Rough night?”
You turned, and there he was leaning against a rack of chips, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, but you’d know that face anywhere. Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio. Bad Bunny. In the flesh, right here in this hole-in-the-wall store like it was no big deal. He was dressed down in a loose tank that showed off the tattoos snaking up his arms, baggy shorts, and those signature shades even indoors. His presence filled the space, magnetic and unassuming all at once.
You froze, bottle halfway to your lips, your full lips parting in surprise. “Uh, yeah. Something like that.” Your voice came out steadier than you felt, but your heart raced beneath the soft swell of your chest. Was this real? Or just the universe’s cruel joke on a lonely Valentine’s?
He chuckled, low and warm, grabbing a six-pack for himself. “Valentine’s sucks sometimes. Mi gente acts like it’s the end of the world if plans fall through.” His Spanish lilt wrapped around the words, easy and inviting. He nodded toward the counter. “Come on, let me get that for you. Stranger tax.”
You hesitated, but the kindness in his eyes—dark, searching—pulled you in, making your light skin flush with a warmth that spread to your cheeks. “Thanks. I’m... just trying not to think about it.”
The cashier rang you up without a second glance, and as you stepped back into the night, he fell into step beside you. Your cardigan slipped off one shoulder, revealing more of the dress's cling to your curves, and he glanced appreciatively but respectfully. “Walk with me? The beach is close. Better than pacing alone.”
You should’ve said no. Should’ve gone home, curled up with a rom-com and pretended it didn’t hurt. But his energy was a balm, steady where your boyfriend’s was chaos. So you nodded, and the two of you wandered toward the shore, the city lights fading behind you. The sand was still warm underfoot, your sandals sinking slightly as you sat on a weathered bench overlooking the water, your dress riding up just enough to expose the stretch marks on your thighs like subtle invitations.
He cracked open a beer and handed it over, his fingers brushing yours electric, but not pushy. “Wanna talk about it? Or nah?”
The words tumbled out before you could stop them. The plans, the dress, the endless waiting. How your boyfriend always promised more but delivered excuses—late nights at the studio, “bro time” that stretched into dawns. How you felt invisible, like your love was a placeholder until something better came along, your plus-sized body and all its beautiful imperfections overlooked. “It’s stupid,” you finished, staring at the foam in your bottle, your curls loosening slightly in the breeze. “Valentine’s is just a day, right? But it hurts. Like, really hurts.”
Benito listened, really listened no interruptions, no platitudes. His knee bumped yours lightly, a grounding touch against your soft thigh. “Nah, it’s not stupid. That shit builds up. Emotional neglect, they call it? Like you’re pouring into a cup with a hole in it. And he’s out there living like you don’t exist? That’s on him, mami. Not you. And look at you you’re stunning, every curve, every mark on that gorgeous skin.”
His words hit deep, cracking open the loneliness you’d buried. Tears slipped free this time, hot on your light cheeks, tracing paths that highlighted the subtle warmth of your undertone, a blend of sun-kissed light skin with the rich depth of Black ancestry in your features. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he shifted closer, his arm draping over the back of the bench, not quite touching but offering shelter. “Hey, you’re worth more than that. Someone who sees you, who stays. Those stretch marks? They’re like stories on your body, beautiful ones.”
The air between you thickened, charged with the salt and his cologne something earthy, like sandalwood mixed with sea. You turned to him, your faces inches apart, and in his eyes, you saw it: not pity, but hunger. For connection, for you. “Why are you being so nice to me?” you whispered, your full lips trembling slightly.
“Because you deserve it,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “And because tonight, I’m choosing to be here, mi reina.”
His hand cupped your cheek, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw, and you leaned in, lips meeting his in a kiss that started soft tentative, tasting of beer and unspoken need. But the hurt in your chest fueled it, turning gentle into desperate. You kissed him like you were claiming something back, your fingers tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer, your soft belly pressing against him.
He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, and his free hand slid to your waist, bunching the fabric of your dress over your hips. “You sure?” he asked, pulling back just enough to search your eyes, his gaze lingering on the way your light skin flushed.
“Yes,” you breathed, the loneliness twisting into something hotter, needier. “Please.”
That was all he needed. Benito stood, tugging you up with him, and led you down the beach a ways, away from the distant lights, to a secluded stretch where the palms curved like a natural alcove. The moon hung low, casting silver on the waves, and the sand felt like silk under your feet as you kicked off your sandals. He pressed you against a smooth palm trunk, his body pinning yours—solid, warm, alive. His mouth claimed your neck, lips sucking gently at first, then harder, marking the light skin that your boyfriend had ignored for too long, right above the faint stretch marks peeking from your dress's neckline.
You gasped, arching into him, your hands roaming his back, feeling the flex of muscles under ink, your full breasts heaving with each breath. “ mami, you taste divine ,” he whispered, nipping at your earlobe, his voice gravelly with that Puerto Rican fire. “Gonna make you forget all about that pendejo. Love how this dress hugs you, mami shows off every perfect curve.”
“Promise?” you teased back, your fingers slipping under his tank to trace the ridges of his abs, your own body responding with a heat that made your thighs clench.
He laughed softly, a rumble in his chest. “Oh, I promise, pretty girl . Spread those legs for me.”
You did, hiking your dress up as he dropped to his knees in the sand. The grains shifted cool against your skin as he hooked his fingers into your lacy panties and tugged them down, exposing your pussy to the night air, the stretch marks on your hips glowing faintly in the moonlight. He looked up at you, eyes dark with lust. “Fuck, look at you. So pretty and wet for me already.That skin... light and smooth, with those hints of fire underneath.”
Before you could respond, his mouth was on you tongue flat and broad, licking a slow stripe up your folds. You moaned, loud and unfiltered, your hands flying to the sand beside you, fingers digging in for purchase as he devoured you. He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, then delved deeper, thrusting inside you like he was fucking you with his mouth. The wet sounds mixed with the waves, obscene and perfect, his hands gripping your thick thighs, thumbs tracing the silvery lines there appreciatively.
“Benito oh shit,” you whimpered, hips bucking against his face, your curls tumbling fully loose now, wild and framing your face. He reached up, grabbing a fistful of them, tugging just hard enough to arch your back, exposing more of your light skin to the night.
“That’s it, mami,” he growled against your core, the vibration sending sparks through you. “Grab that sand like you’re holding on for life. I’m gonna eat this pussy till you scream. You’re so soft, so real love these marks, like art on you.”
He did, relentless lapping at your entrance, circling your clit, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you open, fingers pressing into the plush flesh. Pleasure coiled tight in your belly, your body trembling as you clawed deeper into the beach, sand caking your palms, your plus-sized frame quivering with building ecstasy.
“Feels so good , your tongue, fuck, right there!”
Just as you teetered on the edge, voices drifted from the path laughter, footsteps crunching shells. A group of late night strollers, probably tourists, heading your way. Panic and thrill mixed in your veins, your heart pounding against your full chest. “Wait someone’s coming!” you hissed, trying to pull back, your dress still bunched around your waist.
Benito didn’t stop. He sucked harder, eyes locked on yours with a wicked grin. “Let ’em hear how good I make you feel. Come on my face, quick.” His words were a dare, muffled but commanding, his grip on your curls tightening playfully.
The footsteps grew closer, a woman’s voice calling out about the stars. You bit your lip, but the orgasm hit anyway crashing through you like a rogue wave. Your pussy clenched, juices flooding his mouth as you shuddered, a muffled cry escaping despite your efforts. Sand flew from your grip as your body convulsed, waves of pleasure rippling through your curves.
The voices paused, then moved on, the group none the wiser. Benito licked you clean, slow and thorough, before rising with a smug wipe of his mouth. “See? Almost caught, but worth it. You taste like heaven, by the way. And damn, those thighs could stay between them all night.”
You laughed breathlessly, still buzzing, adjusting your dress over your stretch-marked hips. “You’re insane.”
“Insanely into you,” he shot back, pulling you into another kiss. You tasted yourself on his lips, salty and sweet, your light skin tingling from his touch.
But he wasn’t done. His hands roamed lower, shoving his shorts down to free his cock thick and hard, curving up with a bead of pre-cum at the tip. You stroked him, feeling the heat pulse in your palm, your soft hand contrasting his firmness. “Want you inside me,” you murmured, guiding him, your body aching for more.
He spun you around gently, bending you over against the palm, your hands bracing on the bark, dress hiked up to reveal the full glory of your ass and the silvery trails across it. “Gonna fuck you just like this, out here where anyone could see. You’re perfect, every inch.” His tip nudged your entrance, slick from his mouth. With a slow push, he sank in, inch by inch, stretching you wide, filling the softness of your plus-sized form.
“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, bottoming out. You both stilled, savoring the fullness, the connection, his hands caressing your hips, thumbs brushing the stretch marks like treasures.
Then he started moving deep, steady thrusts that had you pushing back to meet him, your curves jiggling with each impact. His hand found your curls again, wrapping them around his fist like reins, pulling your head back just enough to expose your throat. “Look at you, taking my dick so well. You love it, don’t you? Being my dirty little secret on this beach, all that beautiful light skin glowing for me.”
“Yes harder, please,” you begged, the words tumbling out amid gasps, your body alive with sensation.
He obliged, pounding into you, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing softly. Sweat beaded on your skin, mixing with the sand, tracing down your back. Leaning in, he hovered over your shoulder, lips brushing your ear. “Open up,” he commanded, voice husky.
You parted your full lips, and he spat into your mouthhot, intimate, claiming. You swallowed, the act sending a fresh wave of heat through you, making your pussy clench around him. “That’s it ,” he praised, thrusting deeper. “Now come with me, mi amor.”
The rhythm built, frantic now, his grip on your hair tightening as he chased release. Your walls fluttered around him, the coil snapping again. You came with a whine, clenching hard, and he followed pulling out at the last second to spill across your ass, hot ropes painting your light skin and the stretch marks there.
Panting, he released your curls, spinning you for a lazy kiss, his hands gentle on your waist. “Damn, that was fire. You okay, mami? Felt amazing holding all of you.”
You grinned, adjusting your dress, feeling alive in a way you hadn’t in months, your body humming with satisfaction. “Understatement.”
He tucked himself away, then glanced toward the city lights. “Still early. I know a spot a little club in Condado. Low-key, good music. Wanna keep this night going? Can’t let a queen like you go home yet.”
“Why not?” you said, linking your arm with his, your cardigan draped over your shoulders now. The walk back was easy, filled with light banter about bad Valentine’s stories and his latest track ideas, his arm around your plush waist. Laughter bubbled up, warm and unexpected, easing the last remnants of ache.
The club was tucked down a side street, pulsing with bass that shook the ground. No velvet ropes, just a bouncer who nodded at Benito like an old friend. Inside, it was a swirl of bodies—sweaty dancers, colorful drinks, reggaeton blasting from hidden speakers. He pulled you to a corner booth, away from the crowd, ordering piña coladas that arrived frothy and strong, the sweetness matching the night.
You sipped, hips swaying to the beat in your dress, his hand on your thigh under the table, warm and reassuring. “Dance with me?” he asked, that smirk lighting his face, eyes twinkling at your curves.
Before you could answer, a squeal cut through the noise. “Girl! Is that you?”
Your heart dropped. There, weaving through the throng, were your friend three of them, dressed to kill, eyes wide as they zeroed in on you and your disheveled curls. “We’ve been texting you! Thought you were home crying over that loser!”
You froze, Benito’s hand stilling on your leg, but he squeezed gently, a silent we got this. He chuckled under his breath, cap pulled lower. “Friends, huh? Play it cool, mi vida.”
They piled into the booth, chattering about their night bad dates, spilled drinks one of them eyeing your flushed light skin and the way your dress clung post beach. “Wait, who’s this? New guy already? Spill! And girl, you look... glowy. What happened to the sad solo night?”
Benito leaned back, casual as ever. “Just a friend from the bodega. Keeping her company on this wild Valentine’s.” He flashed a grin, cute and disarming. “She’s too fine to be left alone, you know?”
Your friend squinted at him. “You look familiar... like, really familiar.” She pulled out her phone, scrolling. “Hold up—wait, is that...?”
Panic hit, your pulse racing as more heads turned subtly. If she recognized him, the whole club would swarm. Benito shot you a wink, then stood smoothly. “Hey, ladies, mind if I steal her for a dance? Emergency vibes only gotta show her some moves before the night ends.”
They laughed, waving you off with teasing whoops, but as he tugged you toward the floor, your friend yelled, “He kinda looks like Bad Bunny! No way! Girl, if that’s him, you win Valentine’s!”
You stifled a giggle, his arm around your waist as you melted into the crowd, your bodies grinding to the rhythm, his hands respectful on your hips. “Close call,” he murmured into your ear, spinning you with a playful twirl that made your dress flare. “But worth it for that laugh on your face.”
“Too close,” you admitted, laughing as another fan brushed past, double-taking but getting lost in the mob, the comedic tension dissolving into shared amusement.
“We gotta bounce before they start a riot or demand autographs,” he said, guiding you to a side exit with a dramatic flourish. Outside, the night air hit cool against your warm skin, and you both cracked up full bellied, relieved laughs that echoed down the alley, your stretch marks tingling faintly from the earlier passion.
“Best Valentine’s plot twist ever,” you said, leaning into him, your head on his shoulder.
He kissed your temple softly, pulling you close. “Told you I’d choose you tonight. And hey, next time, let’s make it a date no almost caughts, just you, me, and all that beautiful light in your eyes, mi sol.”
To celebrate may I ask for a P1h scenario where they are at the send off doing their usual stuff (Jongseob back hug😩) with the s/o, and they basically fall in love at first sight.
Yes im delulu
pairing: P1Harmony x reader
warnings: unrealistic male expectations, pure fluff eheheh
disclaimer: not my pic!
I did a mix between send off and fan sign :) Hope you don't mind!
Keeho
You had been fine all morning—totally fine, perfectly normal—until you got within five people of Keeho. Then your hands started trembling, your stomach twisted itself into a sailor’s knot, and you began rehearsing basic English like you'd never spoken it before.
By the time it was your turn, your heart was thumping so loudly you were sure he could hear it.
But the second Keeho’s eyes found you, something in you shifted. He lit up like someone had just plugged him in.
“There you are!” he said, as if he'd been looking for you all day.
You blinked. “Here I am,” you replied, matching his energy before your nerves had the chance to stop you.
His grin stretched wider. “You look too calm for someone meeting me,” he teased.
“Oh, trust me,” you shot back, leaning in just slightly, “the panic is very much internal.”
He laughed—loud, warm, delighted. “Okay, I like you already.”
Your brain short-circuited for a moment, but your mouth kept up somehow. “I try to be likable in public.”
He shook his head as he signed your album, eyes flicking up to you more than necessary. “No, but seriously, you’re funny. You’re keeping up with me. That never happens.”
Your pulse skipped, but you crossed your arms dramatically. “Are you saying people usually can’t handle you?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he said without hesitation. “I’m a lot.”
“Good thing I’m also a lot,” you said, and his expression softened like he found that unexpectedly charming.
When it came time for your selfie, Keeho adjusted his chair and leaned closer. “Is it okay if I touch you?” he asked, hand hovering hesitantly near your shoulder.
You raised a brow. “Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?”
He froze. Then burst into the brightest, cutest laugh, head thrown back. “Okay, okay, you’re right! You win this one.”
“So you admit defeat,” you said smugly.
“I admit nothing,” he said, still laughing, “but I will take a cute picture with you.”
He rested his hand lightly against your arm—gentle, careful—and the two of you leaned in. The camera clicked as you both smiled in a way that wasn’t posed at all.
When your turn ended, he passed your album back, but didn’t immediately look away.
“Thanks for making my day interesting,” he said softly—less performative, more real.
“You’re welcome,” you answered, suddenly shy again.
He didn’t move on right away. His gaze lingered on you, lingering a moment too long to be accidental.
You stepped away slowly, still smiling, and he watched you until the staff nudged him forward.
And even then, he glanced back once more—just to meet your eyes again.
Theo
You stepped forward when the staff waved you in, rehearsing a calm smile—only for it to vanish the moment Theo looked up at you.
He froze. Literally froze.
Then a soft pink flushed up his neck and into his cheeks so quickly you almost gasped.
“Hi…” he said, voice gentler than you expected, eyes widening like he hadn’t prepared for you specifically.
You blinked, unsure what to do with the sudden intensity. “Hi,” you echoed, and your voice came out warmer than planned.
Theo cleared his throat and tried—unsuccessfully—to hide his blush by focusing very hard on your album. But every couple of seconds, his gaze flicked back up to you, and each time, the blush returned like it was determined to embarrass him.
When it was time for your photo, he scooted closer, trying to act natural.
But the moment your faces neared each other, he stiffened slightly, breath catching. You felt his warmth, his shyness, the tiny tremble of someone who wasn’t expecting to be this affected.
Then he frowned—not in a bad way, just with soft concern.
“Wait… what happened here?” he murmured, lifting a finger to gesture near your cheek without touching. “Is that a bruise?”
You laughed immediately, because of course he noticed.
“Oh—yeah! I play volleyball. I got smacked in the face with a ball a few days ago.”
The relief on his face was instant… followed by a surprised spark in his eyes.
“Volleyball? Really? I love volleyball.”
You grinned. “I know.”
He blinked. “You… know?”
“I’ve watched your interviews,” you said lightly. “You talk about it a lot.”
The blush came back with a vengeance, spreading across his cheekbones. “Oh. Right. I—I guess I do.”
That made you laugh again, and Theo looked at you like it was one of his new favorite sounds.
You two talked for a short moment—about positions, favorite plays, whether you preferred spikes or blocks. Theo got unexpectedly animated, hands gesturing, eyes brightening in that understated way of his. You could feel him relaxing, settling into the conversation like it was natural. Easy.
At one point he said, “I feel like you’d be a hitter. You have that energy.”
“Oh, absolutely,” you said. “I live to intimidate people at the net.”
Theo laughed softly, a warm, breathy sound, almost shy but undeniably fond.
When your time was up, he handed your album back but didn’t pull his hand away right away.
“It was… really nice to meet you,” he said quietly, eyes dipping for a second before returning to yours.
“Really nice to meet you too,” you said.
And he smiled—small, sweet, a little bit bashful—as if he wasn’t quite ready to stop looking at you.
Jiung
You stepped toward Jiung’s table, trying to steady your breath. He was even more beautiful up close—soft eyes, sharp features, that calm, magnetic presence that always seemed to draw people in without him trying.
When he looked up at you, his expression shifted immediately.
His eyes widened just a little, and a small, almost shy smile curved onto his lips.
“Oh,” he said quietly, voice warm. “Your nose piercing… it looks really good on you.”
You touched the jewelry out of habit, smiling. “Thank you! I just got it done recently.”
Jiung nodded, gaze lingering a second longer than necessary. “It suits you a lot. Very elegant.”
“You know,” you said, leaning a little closer across the table, “your nose would also look amazing with a piercing.”
His head snapped up so fast you almost laughed.
“Me?” he asked, eyes widening further. A blush started dusting the tops of his cheeks. “I—I don’t know about that.”
“Oh, come on.” You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “You have such a pretty face. Very… interesting. A piercing would look incredible on you.”
Jiung froze. Actually froze.
His pen hung in midair above your album, and he stared at you like you had just said something he wasn’t prepared to hear for at least the next decade.
“Pretty?” he repeated, voice pitched slightly higher. “Interesting?”
“Very,” you confirmed without hesitation. “Your features are already perfect. A piercing would just make people suffer more.”
His blush deepened instantly—soft pink blooming across sharp cheekbones, down to the tips of his ears. His eyes dropped to the table, suddenly timid in the cutest way.
“I… um…” He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice again. “You’re very pretty too.”
You blinked.
Then you froze.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The noise of the venue blurred into the background. All that existed was his shy smile, your tightening heartbeat, and the warm flush spreading across both of your faces.
You laughed softly—not mocking, just surprised, touched, a little breathless. “Thank you,” you said, quieter than before.
Jiung finally finished signing your album, but his movements were slower, almost hesitant, like he didn’t want to break the moment. He held the album out to you, fingers brushing yours for the briefest second.
He immediately looked down again, flustered by the tiny contact.
You felt your own cheeks burning, matching his shade perfectly.
For a long moment—longer than a send-off usually allowed—your eyes met again. No words, just an unspoken warmth passing between you, a subtle but undeniable spark.
Then the staff nudged him, and Jiung blinked himself back to reality, though he still looked adorably dazed.
“It was really… nice talking to you,” he said softly.
“You too,” you whispered.
And you walked away knowing you’d left him just as flustered as he had left you.
Intak
You stepped into Intak’s line, reminding yourself that send-offs were quick, simple, nothing to panic over.
But the moment he spotted you approaching, his entire expression lit up—bright, curious, that signature spark coming alive in his eyes.
“Hi!” he greeted, leaning forward slightly. “You look excited. Or nervous. Or both?”
You laughed. “Both is probably correct.”
He grinned, delighted. “Same. All the time.”
There was no album signing for this send-off, so it was just you, him, and a few precious seconds of real conversation.
You took a breath. “I wanted to say… your dancing is incredible. Really. I’m a ballroom dancer, and watching you move is always so inspiring.”
His reaction was immediate—shock first, then awe, then this wide, amazed smile that made your heart stumble.
“You’re a ballroom dancer?” he repeated, eyes going huge. “No way. That’s so cool.”
You shrugged, suddenly shy under the weight of his attention. “I’ve been learning for a long time.”
“That’s amazing!” He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “I feel honored. A real dancer complimented me.”
You laughed, flustered. “Intak, you’re definitely a real dancer.”
He pointed at you with playful insistence. “Okay, but ballroom is different. Ballroom is elegant. Ballroom is classy. Ballroom is—”
“Dancing,” you finished, teasing.
He paused. “Okay, fair.”
When the staff signaled it was time for your picture, he perked up suddenly.
“Should we do a dancing pose?” he asked. “Since we both are ballroom dancers?”
Your brain short-circuited so hard you almost forgot how to speak.
“A—A dancing pose?”
“Yeah!” Intak laughed, extending a hand as if asking you to dance for real. “Only if you want to, of course.”
Your face warmed instantly. “No, I want to. Let’s do it.”
He stepped closer, placing a light hand on your waist with a gentleness that surprised you, letting you set the distance. You took his other hand, falling naturally into position.
“Ready?” he asked, a soft blush coloring his cheeks.
“Ready.”
You dipped into a quick, simple pose—nothing dramatic, just a clean ballroom frame—but the moment was full of laughter, shared nerves, and something sweeter you didn’t dare name. The camera clicked just as both of you smiled a little too shyly at each other.
When you stepped back, he exhaled a breathy laugh.
“You’re really good,” he said, voice lower, more sincere. “Honestly… you’re probably a better dancer than me.”
You felt your cheeks burn instantly. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
You tried to recover with a joke. “So… will you dance with me again next time?”
Intak’s answer was immediate, without hesitation.
“Yes. Absolutely yes.”
Then he added, softer, “I’d like that.”
And as you walked away, you could still feel the warmth of his hand in yours.
Soul
You barely had time to collect yourself before Soul spotted you in line—because the moment he did, he lit up like a sparkler. He bounced a little in his seat, waving both hands as if he’d been waiting specifically for you to reach him.
When you stepped forward, he immediately leaned in, eyes sparkling with pure excitement.
“Your outfit!” he exclaimed. “So cool!”
You laughed. “Thank you. It’s… very me, I guess.”
Then his eyes dropped to your belt, and he gasped dramatically.
“A McDonald’s toy?!” he said, sounding genuinely amazed. “It’s so cute!”
You glanced around quickly, then lowered your voice conspiratorially.
“I, um… actually brought one for you too. But I know you’re not allowed to accept gifts.”
Soul’s head snapped up, and he looked at you with the biggest, most delighted grin.
“You brought one for me?” he whispered, like you’d just told him a precious secret.
You nodded, biting back a smile. “I did.”
Before anything else could happen, the staff signaled for your selfie. Soul scooted so close to you that you felt his hair brush your cheek—soft, faintly ticklish. He held the phone up, but before taking the picture, he leaned toward your ear.
“Just secretly give it to me,” he whispered mischievously, voice bubbling with suppressed laughter.
Your breath caught in your throat, partly from surprise, partly from how close he suddenly was. But you reached into your pocket and slid the small toy into your hand.
When he extended his own hand under the table, you gently placed the toy into his palm.
Your fingers brushed—light, brief, but enough to send a shiver up your spine.
Soul giggled. An adorable, quiet, I-shouldn’t-be-doing-this giggle.
He hid the toy under the tablecloth with the smoothness of someone who had absolutely done this sort of thing before.
Then he looked at you again, eyes squinting with the brightest smile.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I love it.”
You smiled softly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually want it.”
“I do!” he insisted, nodding so fast his hair bounced. “I’m going to wear it on stage.”
Your eyes widened. “You don’t have to do that. Really.”
“I want to,” Soul said firmly, still smiling. “For you.”
The photo finally snapped—both of you grinning like you were sharing something wonderfully secret.
When your time was up, he gave you a tiny wave, the kind that seemed meant only for you. Under the table, he clutched the toy like it was treasure.
And as you walked away, you heard him giggle again—soft, warm, and absolutely thrilled.
Jongseob
You stepped forward, trying to compose yourself, but the moment Jongseob looked up, his eyes widened in surprise. He tilted his head, studying you for a second with a soft, curious smile.
“You’re really small,” he said, almost to himself. Then, with a playful squint, “You look like an elf.”
Your face heated instantly. “An… an elf?”
“In a cute way,” he added quickly, grin growing. “Like a tiny forest elf.”
You covered your cheeks with your hands for half a second, which only made him laugh—soft, low, undeniably fond.
When the staff signaled for the photo, Jongseob stepped behind you without hesitation. “Let’s do something fitting,” he said, mischief dancing in his eyes.
Before you could ask what he meant, he gently wrapped his arms around you from behind. His chin hovered near your shoulder, close enough that you felt the warmth of his breath. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.
The camera clicked, but neither of you moved right away.
“You smell amazing,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.
You turned slightly, flustered. “Oh—thank you. It’s, um… it’s this perfume I use.” You told him the brand, hoping it would explain your blush.
Jongseob leaned in again, closer this time, his nose brushing the air near your neck. He inhaled softly—just once, subtle but unmistakably intimate.
Then he shook his head.
“No,” he said quietly, confidently. “That’s not the perfume. You smell good.”
Your breath caught. Your brain flatlined. You didn’t know what to do besides stare at him with wide eyes.
So you did what you always did when overwhelmed—you joked.
“Do you… want some?” you asked, half laughing, half dying inside. You expected him to tease you, maybe brush it off.
But instead, Jongseob straightened slightly, eyes brightening.
“Yes,” he said immediately.
You blinked. “Wait—really?”
He nodded eagerly, stepping closer. “Yeah. Put some on me.”
You fumbled for the small perfume bottle in your bag, still unsure if this was allowed, but the staff didn’t stop you, and Jongseob looked far too excited for you to refuse.
“Okay,” you said softly.
He tilted his head toward you, offering his wrist first. You sprayed lightly, watching the fine mist settle against his skin.
He lifted his wrist and sniffed it, smiling so wide you almost melted.
“It smells really good,” he said. “Now I match you.”
Your chest tightened in the sweetest, most dangerous way.
“I’m glad you like it,” you managed.
“Like it?” he repeated, still beaming. “I love it.”
He gave you one last smile—a soft, lingering one—as the staff nudged him to move on. But even as you walked away, you felt his gaze follow you, warm and quietly captivated.
Jungkook is your new stepbrother, and living under the same roof quickly creates tension between the two of you.
Pairing - Jungkook x fem!reader (Y/N used)
Warnings: N/A
Intro: Your mother is about to marry a wealthy man, which means moving into his mansion. What she forgot to mention is that you’d be sharing it with his son, Jungkook.
The car drives down the long road as your mother takes a deep breath turning to the final street.
“Ugh do we really have to move in with them?” You ask, rolling your eyes.
Your mom sighs, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the iron gates open ahead. “Yes, Y/N. Stop whining—it’s already done. Be nice, okay?”
The car crunches over the gravel, and through the windshield you catch a glimpse of him first: tall, black-haired, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
You don’t notice him at first.
The boy’s eyes flick to the vehicle, dark and unreadable. A Doberman pads out beside him.
You glare in the direction of the guy staring from the doorway. “Whoa, who is that?”
Your mom parks the car. “That’s Jungkook. Your stepbrother now.”
The door opens - your ‘stepfather’ - waves, cheerful, but Jungkook doesn’t move from his spot. He just stares back at you through the window, one eyebrow lifting slightly. The corner of his mouth twitches.
“He seems like trouble.” You say with a strong tone, staring back.
Jungkook tilts his head, amusement flickering across his face. He pushes off the doorframe, slow, deliberate - Bam follows.
Your mom nudges your shoulder. “Out. Go say hi.”
When you step out, the heat hits first, then his gaze drags over you, assessing. He doesn’t speak immediately. Just watches you with dark eyes, one hand sliding into his pocket.
“Trouble? That’s subjective.”
You tuck the hair behind your ear before rubbing the back of your neck, your cheeks slightly pink in embarrassment.
“Sorry, I didn’t think you could hear me,” you say, reaching out your hand.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”
The boy’s fingers close around yours-warm, firm grip that lasts a second too long. He doesn’t smile with his mouth, just a small crinkle in his eyes.
“Jungkook,” he says stepping back. His gaze drops to where your hand just was before flicking up again.
“Don’t apologize if you mean it.”
A slight sigh leaves your mouth as you hear him say that. “I do though,” you whisper.
Bam circles your legs once, sniffing. Jungkook watches that, then looks at your facial expression.
“And who is this cutie?” you ask gently, reaching for the dog at your feet.
“May I pet... her? him?”
“Him. Bam.” Jungkook’s eyes narrow slightly as he nods.
The dog leans into your touch before Jungkook adds, “He bites strangers. Not you though. I guess.” his voice flat.
His tongue presses his cheek from inside his mouth. You notice. “We’ll see.”
“Welcome to your new home.” Your stepfather interrupts, reaching out for a hug.
As you hug him back you make direct eye contact with Jungkook. Unintentional, but there.
A sudden chuckle erupts from your nose, not necessarily in a funny way, but an awkward way.
Your mom interrupts, “How about a tour of our new home?”
The boy still watches your hand resting on Bam’s head, his expression unreadable except for the faint smirk.
You look up from the dog, flashing a soft smile to the boy staring.
“Shall we go in?”
“After you.”
He turns toward the door, allowing you to pass. Your shoulder brushes his as you pass, a faint smell of his cologne catches your full attention.
The mansion opens up inside: marble floor, high ceilings, minimalist, and very cold.
After following your stepfather around the mansion, you make it back to the front door where you left your luggage.
“Jungkook,” He starts. “Please show Y/N her room.”
“Yes, father,” the boy replies. “Follow me, your room is on the second floor.”
You follow behind -not too close, not too far- dragging your suitcase and bags up the stairs.
A beat.
Once you’re at the top of the stairs his voice drops. “We share a bathroom. It’s in between our rooms.”
“Oh, um okay. I guess it’ll be alright.”
Without looking back again, he leads you to your door–steps measured, unhurried. At the landing steps, he gestures left. “Last door. Don’t slam it.”
A smile forms at the corners of your mouth as you walk past into the room.
He watches as you enter, eyes dragging down your suitcase. Something flickers there—curiosity, maybe mockery.
“You always this quiet, or just nervous?”
A deep breath leaves your mouth, “Sorry… this is just really awkward. My mom didn’t tell me about the move until last minute, and didn’t tell me anything about having a stepbrother.”
Your turn, now facing him.
His body is leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed again–complete mirror of when you pulled up. His lips quirk.
“Yeah? Typical.”
His gaze never leaves yours. He tracks your face, lingering on the tension in your jaw.
“My father didn’t tell me either. Said I’d have a roommate.”
A pause, weighted.
“Guess we’re both surprised then,” you say, breaking the silence.
“I’m sorry about this whole thing, it was probably my moms idea. She usually likes to keep her choices a secret up until the last minute.”
He huffs–not quite a laugh. Pushing off the door, he steps closer, invading the space you’ve kept.
“Sorry again? You must say that a lot.” His head tilts, eyes locking yours, reading.
“I guess I never realized I said it so much.”
“Look, I don’t care what you do here. Just don’t cause any problems, and we’re good. Got it?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” you mutter, shifting backward.
Bam trots down the hall. His footsteps echo faintly.
Jungkook’s gaze drops to your lips for half a second before snapping back up to meet your eyes.
“Unless you make it interesting.”
Scooting back farther, you realize the dresser is closer than you thought.
“There it is.” His eyes catch your movement–your glance, the way your back hits the dresser.
Your eyes drop to his lips as he becomes closer than before.
Something shifts in his expression, sharper now. He doesn’t move away, just watches you trapped there with a lazy smile.
“You’re jumpy. I like that.”
One of his hands lifts, pressing the top of the dresser at your side–not touching, but close enough you feel the heat. “Rooms yours. Dinner’s at seven. Don’t be late.”
Summary: All you wanted after a long day at work is to ride your motorcycle until your tension and stress disappeared. The last thing you ever expected was to find Steve checking out your bike or anything that follows.
Warnings: meddling Avengers (Nat & Tony)
A/N: This was a prompt fill for last year's Steve Rogers bingo. I remember giggling as I wrote this one. Hard not to when you have two meddlers who're trying to get two idiots together and finally succeed. Though, Tony was putting himself in a bit of danger by messing with Bruce's assistant.
Steve Rogers Masterlist | Character Masterlist
Dr. Banner couldn't get back fast enough.
Exhaustion and tension threatened to cave you in as you stepped onto the elevator.
Who knew a shift with Tony Stark could feel like an eternity?
Oh, how you missed the quieter, can-hear-yourself-think time spent with your actual boss. There hadn't been one thought that Mr. Stark had kept to himself. If he wasn't talking through one problem he wanted to work on, he was blasting his music at an ungodly level. Your head thumped to the beat until it throbbed and screamed for the quiet you preferred.
Dr. Banner played music, sure, but it was always at a level that you could tune out when it suited you. He also never really spoke unless he needed your opinion on one matter or another. The two of you could spend almost the entire day in silence, working on your respective duties. It was something you wouldn't ever take for granted again while praying you wouldn't have Mr. Stark for company again the next day.
All you wanted in that moment was to hop on your bike and ride.
Where? It didn't matter. Just wind yourself through the streets and out to the more country-ish roads until you found the peace you desperately needed. Sure, maybe you'd stop for a bite to eat somewhere, but you had no plans to stop until the hour grew late.
Maybe you'd even make a weekend of it. It's why you kept a spare set of clothes in your saddlebags. All it would take is a quick search for a little place to spend the night.
Your grand plan ground to a halt the moment you stepped into the parking garage.
Some oversized dude had apparently taken a liking to your bike and was now sitting on it.
The absolute audacity. The nerve.
"Excuse me," you shouted as you marched toward the guy on your bike. "What exactly do you think you're doing? Didn't your mama ever teach you not to touch other's stuff? Get off my bike before I—"
The words died abruptly in your throat.
The great hulk of a man who'd been on your bike had turned toward you at the start of your tirade. But, you'd been so caught up in shouting it took a moment to compute who he was. When your brain finally caught up to your mouth, it was too late.
Staring back at you were the bluest eyes you've ever encountered. The same eyes you'd dreamed about a time or two. How could you not? After all, they belonged to none other than Captain America, Steve Rogers himself.
To his credit, he appeared at a loss, quickly and easily moving off your bike and taking a few steps away. His hand came up to rub at the back of his neck as pink suffused his cheeks. "I didn't realize it was yours. Tony's been talking up his newest bike, and I was led to believe this was it. My sincerest apologies."
Your earlier ire died swiftly.
His sincerity and horrified expression was more than enough to easily forgive him. It was a relatively minor transgression compared to if he'd been a complete stranger who'd wandered into the gated garage.
If anyone should incur your wrath, it should be Mr. Stark, not Captain Rogers. No, Steve Rogers had only ever been kind and even sweet whenever the two of you interacted. It wasn't often he'd come into Dr. Banner's labs. When he did though, he was always courteous and maybe a little quieter than you thought he would be as you worked. He wouldn't linger, either.
You had no idea that he often wished he had more excuses to come into Dr. Banner's labs. Nor were you aware that he's liked you from the first time he'd seen you, but he'd never found an opening that made sense. He'd give almost anything to have a chance to learn more about you.
"It's, uh, okay," you finally stammered when you realized you hadn't responded to him. No, you'd been a bit busy losing yourself to your thoughts while also staring at him. Not drooling or anything, mind you, but in a way that Steve couldn't quite read if he'd deeply offended you or not. "I wasn't aware that Mr. Stark was a bike man. He doesn't seem the type."
That earned you a huff of what could only be laughter.
Steve's eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile blossomed.
"Yeah," he said after a moment, "he's more a collector than rider nowadays. Prefers his suit, you know."
You smiled at him. "Oh, I know he does. I don't think he stopped talking about it all day as he worked in Dr. Banner's labs. You don't, by any chance, know when Dr. Banner's coming back from his mission, do you?"
"Not a fan of Tony in the lab?"
Your face must've shifted more than you imagined it did. One moment, Steve's grinning at you, and the next, he's shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.
"You won't tell him, will you? I don't want to bruise his ego or anything. I mean, he could use an ego deflation now and then, but he's an okay boss. I just prefer Dr. Banner. That's all."
Steve's hands came up as if to ward off any more of your words. His smile gentled once more into the one that filled your dreams at night as he said, "Your secret's safe with me. Bruce should be back by next Friday, I think. I'm not exactly sure since his mission doesn't have a strict turnaround or deadline compared to others."
"Ah, okay," you said, hoping he didn't catch a hint of your disappointment. You'd really been hoping Dr. Banner would be back by Monday morning. That way, there would be no more Tony Stark in the lab. "Thank you for letting me know though. I guess I'll, uh, see you around, Captain Rogers."
When you would've stepped towards your bike, ready to get one with your plans, Steve stepped in front of you, blocking you from it.
"Call me Steve, please," he said softly, his voice holding a hint of something you couldn't quite put your finger on. When you glanced up to meet his gaze, you found his eyes watching you with something you so wanted to be interest and maybe a little bit of hope. As if to confirm, he asked, "You going straight home? I know a diner nearby. Good food, great atmosphere. It's a good place to wind down after a stressful day."
That certainly had your attention.
All previous plans flew out of your head as you stared at Steve and saw that same expression deepen with his gaze. Even his posture shifted in a way that made you think of a puppy, hoping it would be the one chosen this time.
Now, that was the most surprising part of all.
It was well known around the Tower that Steve was ogled and drooled over every time he walks by. He could have his pick of any hundred-plus women that work within its glass-lined walls. That included you though you adamantly denied you were as bad as some.
"Are you asking me out?" you couldn't help asking. After all, you had to be sure for fear you'd make a fool of yourself.
He nodded so emphatically. "Bad idea?"
"Oh, no," you shook your head, a smile sliding back in place, "diner food sounds really good right now."
"Yeah?"
You nodded your head rather vigorously.
Steve beamed down at you before his cheeks went pink. "Okay, great, um, just let me grab my jacket and keys. Then, we'll go. Wait for me? Five minutes, tops?"
He almost made it a full stop, but you managed to stop him. Your smile widened into a full-blown grin. You even shook your head while gesturing to himself.
"You're wearing your jacket," you said softly, then pointed at the keys peeking out of his pocket, "and I believe those are your keys right there. Unless you somehow managed to lift mine, copy them, and return them without my noticing."
His cheeks darkened into a rosier color.
You couldn't help thinking how unfair the color suited him better than it ever would you.
"Sorry, guess I'm just excited you said yes," he murmured, his hue growing even darker and spreading.
Your heart, the traitor, started pounding in your chest at the sweetness of his words. It'd been a bit since anyone had shown this level of interest in you, and you found it a little daunting but also so sweet. You couldn't help but feel the butterflies kick up when his gaze met yours with an earnestness that literally stole your breath for a moment.
Before your courage could fail you, you rose on tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. Pulling back, you said, "Well, my bike is calling me to ride. Wanna grab yours and show me your diner? Maybe after, we can go on the drive I had planned for myself. I mean, if you don't have anything else to do and want to spend more time together."
"I'd really like that, but I don't want to impose on your alone time."
Oh, this man could just about kill you with his gentlemanly behavior.
"Wouldn't have offered if you'd be imposing." You allowed yourself a squeeze of his arm before stepping back and picking up your helmet. "Now, I'm starving, so let's get going. Definitely want to get out of here before Mr. Stark tries to find me and drag me back to the lab."
Steve grinned. "I'd keep you safe."
"Hm, that's good to know."
The two of you quickly donned what gear you typically wore. You with your full-body protection gear and Steve with only a helmet that you made him put on. Despite hearing his protests about the serum, you weren't having it, not when you'd gained what you hoped to be the first of many dates with him.
Your bikes roared to life within minutes, then spun out of the garage and onto the city's streets.
*****
Meanwhile…
"You didn't have to throw me under the bus like you did, Romanov," Tony groused while watching the screens in front of them. "Can't believe I didn't see your meddling sooner."
Nat smirked, her eyes never leaving the screens. "You never do, genius. Besides, my plan worked just as it was meant to. Those two were never going to make a move if we didn't help them along."
"Yeah, I guess," Tony continued to grumble, "but next time, don't make it where I almost cost Banner his assistant. He'd never forgive me, and we don't need a Hulk situation in the city."
"You know I can't promise that."
'Tony sighed, his gaze going a final time to the screens. He watched as you and Steve made your way out of the garage. A smile flitted over his features.
"It's nice to see him happy, yeah?"
Nat nodded. Her smirk transformed into an honest smile as she said, "Yeah, it is."
pairing: Owen Grady x f!reader
genre: coworkers to lovers • tensions • adventure • forced proximity
notes: You are finally living your dream as a Mosasaur handler at Jurassic World. While, technically, only wanting to pursue your career of studying aquatic giants, your coworker Owen has taking quite the liking to you... After your house got invested by the local insect population he extends his invitation for you to stay with him in his bungalow and... things start getting tense between the two of you from there.
MINORS DNI!!
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part 2 – lake water
You stopped walking for a moment.
“Wait... really?”
Your brows lifted slightly as you looked at him. You genuinely hadn't expected that offer.
The guest resort sounded miserable.
Owen's bungalow?
Quiet. Peaceful. Away from tourists. Away from screaming children.
The more you thought about it, the more appealing it became.
A small smile pulled at your lips.
“That would actually be…” You paused. “Really nice.”
Owen was surprised by how quickly you agreed.
Not that he was complaining.
Internally, he was already questioning why he'd offered in the first place. And why he suddenly felt so pleased that you'd said yes.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to look unaffected.
“Yeah, no problem. I've got plenty of room.”
You couldn't help smiling a little wider, “Thank you, Owen. That's really kind of you.”
You turned toward your Jurassic World jeep, paddleboard tucked under your arm.
Unfortunately, the board had other plans.
As you turned you swung around and smacked directly into Owen's side.
“Ow–”
You gasped.
“Sorry–!”
Owen grunted, “Jesus…”
He rubbed his ribs dramatically.
“Trying to kill me already?” he half laughed.
“Oh god, I– I am really sorry–” you said, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
A laugh escaped him despite himself.
“Yeah, yeah. I'll survive.” he grinned.
You shook your head before heading to your jeep, unlocking the rear compartment and carefully tossing the paddleboard inside.
This time without assaulting any coworkers…
“If you want,” you said, looking back at him, “we can take my jeep back.”
You shrugged, “Unless you drove here?”
“Nah.” he said, already walking around toward the passenger side.
He climbed into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut.
“Lead the way.”
You grabbed an oversized Jurassic World staff shirt from your bag and pulled it over your swimsuit before sliding into the driver's seat.
“You still live by the lakeside bungalows, right?” you asked as you started the engine.
Owen buckled his seatbelt, “Yeah.”
He glanced over, “How’d you know that?”
“Actually, the bungalow next to yours… the one a little further down?” you said, your expression changing to an awkward smile, “That's where Jacob lives.”
Owen recognized the name vaguely.
One of the park employees.
Maintenance, maybe.
Something like that.
“So?” Owen asked.
You sighed.
“I kind of used to date him.”
You pulled onto the main road winding through the island.
“Unfortunately.” you added.
Owen snorted, "That bad?"
“He was a real douchebag.”
“Sounds promising.”
“He stood me up on our third date.”
Owen turned his head.
“What?”
“Yep.” you half shrugged while keeping your eyes on the road.
“Didn't even text.”
“What a moron,” he scoffed.
You laughed at that, the thought alone of dating that prick made you embarrassed of your past self.
“That's putting it nicely.” you murmured.
“No, seriously.” Owen said, shaking his head, “Who stands up someone like you?”
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
You glanced at him briefly, amusement flickering in your eyes.
“What exactly does that mean?”
Owen immediately looked out the passenger window.
“You know what I mean.” he sighed.
“Clearly I don't.” you teased, clearly enjoying this.
You glanced back toward the road then, switching back to your horror ex story to not make this more awkward, “Honestly, I'm glad Jacob stood me up.”
“On our first date he took me to the slushie stand in Main Square.” you began.
“Strong start.” Owen interrupted you briefly.
“He spilled his drink all over me. And then he made me buy him another one.” you said, shuddering at the horrible memory.
Owen couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “What a gentleman,... real prince charming.”
The sarcasm dripping from his voice made you laugh as well.
He found himself smiling at the sound.
You glanced sideways at him, “What about Claire?” you asked, you had heard some staff gossip about them going on a date.
Owen blinked, clearly caught off guard, “What?”
“The redhead.”
You gestured vaguely.
“Oh.” Owen made, which already told you a lot.
“There was gossip about you two going on a date.” you finally said out loud. Owen shrugged, trying to brush it off.
“We did.”
You raised an eyebrow, “And?”
“And nothing.” he concluded, shifting slightly in his seat. “We had dinner, didn’t go anywhere…”
For some reason, admitting that to you felt stranger than it should have.
You nodded thoughtfully.
The conversation drifted away as you turned off the main road and followed the familiar route toward the lakeside staff housings.
You slowed the jeep as Owen's came into view.
His motorbike was parked outside, and his yard looked exactly like you'd expected.
Tools, equipments and random parts sat scattered and left outside, even if several of them probably weren’t meant for permanently living outside.
You parked beside the bungalow and switched off the engine.
“Thanks again, Owen.” you offered with a warm smile, “You're honestly saving my life by letting me crash on your couch”
Something softened in Owen's chest.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out.
“It's really not a big deal.” he grabbed his backpack and shut the door behind him.
Then he looked around his yard.
A wrench sat in the grass.
There was an overturned crate near the porch. A mess for sure…
You unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed out, heading straight for the back of the vehicle.
You opened the hatch, revealing your surfboard and the handful of bags you'd packed that morning when maintenance had practically chased you out of your bungalow.
You grabbed the first bag and balanced it against your hip.
Owen headed up the steps and unlocked the front door for you.
The screen door creaked as he pushed it open.
He tossed his bag inside before walking back to the jeep, helping you with your bags.
“Oh– thanks–” you said as he took two bags from you.
“After you.” he gestured with his head towards the door.
You smiled, “Such a gentleman.”
“Don't get used to it.”
You stepped inside, looking around and quickly you realised the bungalow was exactly what you'd expected.
Owen's house.
No question.
There were boots by the door.
Tools on the counter.
Fishing equipment leaning against one wall.
A few motorcycle parts that definitely did not belong in the living room sat on the coffee table.
A smile tugged at your lips.
“You know,” you said, both of you setting your bags beside the couch, “this is pretty much exactly what I imagined your place would look like.”
Owen groaned from behind you, “That's not a compliment, is it?”
“It depends.”
He laughed under his breath and walked toward the kitchen.
“You want something to drink?” he called, half sticking his head into the fridge already.
“What are my options?” you asked, following him with your eyes
“Beer. Water.” he said, “Uh… more beer.”
You let out a soft laugh, “Do you have anything besides beer and water?”
“Leftover chinese takeout and… half an apple, but I wouldn’t eat that anymore.” he added.
“In my defense,” Owen said, “I wasn't expecting company.”
“I'll take a beer.” you settled then.
“Good choice.”
He grabbed two cans from the fridge and carried them over. The caps popped off with a practiced motion.
You accepted yours gratefully.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
Both of you took a sip.
The beer was cold and the evening still warm.
“Honestly,” you said eventually, “a beer after work never hurt anyone.”
“I'll drink to that.”
The cans clinked together lightly.
You glanced through the window toward the yard.
“Can I go look at your motorcycle?” you asked, you didn’t know much about the machines but you couldn’t deny they had a certain ‘coolness’ to them that you found undeniably pulling.
Owen immediately perked up, “Yeah… you can look. Just be careful, she’s my baby”
You rolled your eyes dramatically, “I obviously won’t do anything to ‘her’”
You stood and headed outside before he could change his mind.
The evening air greeted you immediately.
The lake reflected the orange glow of the setting sun.
His motorcycle sat beside the porch, black paint catching the light.
You crouched beside it curiously.
It was a little dusty from use, but otherwise looked well maintained.
You traced your fingers lightly over the handlebars.
“What brand is this?” you called back toward the bungalow.
Inside, Owen glanced up from his beer.
He pushed himself off the couch and wandered over to the open front door, beer dangling loosely from one hand.
He leaned against the frame, one shoulder resting against the wood as he watched you inspecting the motorcycle.
“It's a Triumph Scrambler.” he said, the pride in his voice was impossible to miss.
“I've had her for a good while now.”
You glanced up from where you were crouched beside the bike.
“Really?”
“Yep.”
He took a sip of his beer.
“Spent more money on maintenance than I'd like to admit.”
“I can imagine,” you chuckled, “Looks really cool.”
That earned a wider grin from Owen.
“See? You get it.” he nodded approvingly.
For a while you continued looking it over.
The leather seat.
The details.
The wheels.
The engine.
You weren't exactly an expert, but you could appreciate why he liked it so much.
Eventually your attention drifted elsewhere.
The lake stretched out behind the bungalow, its surface glowing gold beneath the setting sun.
You took another sip of your beer, eyes darting over the calm water.
"Do you ever swim in there?"
Owen followed your gaze along the water, “Yeah, sometimes.
His eyebrow lifted for a moment, “Why?”
You wandered closer to the shoreline.
“It looks kind of murky.” you said, looking down at the slightly muddy water.
“It's a lake.” Owen noted, as if it would explain everything.
The water lapped quietly against the shore.
And without much thought, you set your beer down on the grass.
Owen watched curiously.
Then you pulled the oversized Jurassic World shirt over your head, revealing the swimsuit you were still wearing underneath.
“Testing the lake?” he called to you, now fully stepping down into the yard.
You walked into the shallows, the water barely reached your ankles at first.
“Yeah–” you said, moving deeper.
Then, before Owen could say anything else, you dove beneath the surface.
Water splashed and suddenly you were gone underneath the surface.
Owen stared at the lake, waiting and a few seconds later you surfaced farther out, pushing wet hair back from your face.
You immediately made a face.
“Yep! Tastes like lake!” you said, spitting out a little water.
“What exactly were you expecting?” he laughed, “Champagne?”
You grinned at his banter, for a moment simply floating in the water enjoying the warm sun painted lake around you.
Then you noticed Owen was still standing exactly where he'd been.
You narrowed your eyes, “Are you seriously just going to stand there?”
“What you want me to get in there too? Too scared of the murky water now?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer.
“Maybe.”
His smile gave him away instantly.
“Come on! It’s nice!” you huffed.
Owen looked at the water, then at you.
“You know,” he called back, “some people enjoy relaxing ‘on land’ after work.”
“Some people are boring.” you shot back.
“Boring?” he raised an eyebrow.
You nodded innocently, “That's what I said.”
Owen stared at you for a second, then shook his head, already putting his beer down.
“You are absolutely trying to start something.”
“Is it working?”
Unfortunately for him…
It was.
Owen disappeared back into the bungalow for a few minutes, leaving you floating lazily in the lake water.
When he finally returned, he had changed into a pair of swim trunks, though he'd clearly hesitated somewhere along the way.
He stood on the porch for a moment, looking out at the water.
You raised an eyebrow, “Well?”
Owen shook his head, laughing to himself, as he walked down to the shore and stepped into the water.
You dove beneath the surface and the murky water swallowed you whole, muting the sounds from above. You swam a short distance underwater, while behind you, Owen waded farther into the lake.
“Don't go too far out!” he called, trying to look for your shadowy figure under the surface.
You surfaced only a few feet away from him.
The moment your head broke the surface, you launched both hands through the water and sent a wave crashing directly into his chest.
Fresh water splashed across him, making Owen jump slightly.
“Hey!”
You burst out laughing.
A little too hard, actually, because you immediately inhaled a bit of lake water and started coughing.
Owen couldn’t help the grin forming on his lips as he, with absolutely no warning, scooped up a handful of water and splashed you directly in the face.
You squealed, “Owen!”
“You started this.” he reminded.
You retaliated immediately, throwing another splash toward him.
Most of it hit his shoulder.
“That's it,” he declared.
“It's on now.”
The next splash was twice as large.
You stumbled backward through the water, throwing your arms up in defense.
“Mercy!” your laughter echoed across the lake.
Another wave of water came your way.
You gasped dramatically.
The battle continued for another minute, neither of you accomplishing much beyond getting completely soaked.
Eventually, realising Owen had both longer arms and an unfair physical advantage, you decided retreat was the smarter option.
With a grin, you dove beneath the water once more.
“Where do you think you're going?” Owen mused, watching your ‘escape’.
A second later he dove after you.
You swam farther out, enjoying the freedom of the open water before finally resurfacing near the middle of the lake.
A deep breath filled your lungs.
The sunset had reached that perfect golden hour where everything seemed to glow.
The water sparkled around you like scattered glitter.
A moment later Owen surfaced several feet away.
He pushed wet hair back from his forehead and exhaled heavily.
“There you are.” he huffed.
“Couldn't catch me?” you panted in response.
A smug grin tugged at Owen's mouth as he watched you.
“You should know better than to start something you can't finish.” he said.
You let out a mock offended gasp, “Excuse me?”
His grin only widened at that.
You splashed water in his direction, though it barely reached him.
“That's because I didn't realize you were trying to kill me!” you tried to defend yourself.
He laughed, his voice low and rough, “Oh, please– I was hardly trying to kill you.”
The warm lake rippled around him as he moved steadily closer, his eyes fixed on you with that familiar look that always seemed to appear whenever he was enjoying himself.
“I was getting you back for splashing me first…!”
You continued swimming backward, though much more slowly now.
“By drowning me?” you spoke, mockingly dramatic.
“You would've been fine.” Owen said, swimming closer.
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.
“And how do you know that?”
“Because I would've saved you.” he spoke, the confidence in his voice making you chuckle.
“Oh, how reassuring.”
By now he'd closed most of the distance between you.
Despite your teasing, you found yourself unable to stop smiling.
Unfortunately, that only seemed to encourage him.
“Owen…”
You pointed a warning finger at him.
“Don't.”
His expression immediately turned mischievous.
“Don't what?” he grinned.
“You know exactly what… Owe–”
He lunged forward before you could finish.
You let out a startled shriek as strong hands caught you around the waist, lifting you just enough and a second later you were tossed backward into the lake with a splash.
Water rushed over your head.
When you resurfaced, sputtering and pushing wet hair out of your face, Owen was standing a few feet away looking entirely too pleased with himself.
You couldn't help laughing despite yourself, though it quickly turned into a cough when yet another mouthful of lake water went down the wrong way.
“You alright?” Owen asked as concern suddenly flashed his features due to your relentless coughing.
You held up a hand while trying to recover.
“Fine–” you coughed.
You finally managed a proper breath and wiped your face.
“I'm starting to think I should keep my mouth closed when I dive.” you said in between small coughs.
For a moment neither of you spoke as you wiped a hand through your wet hair, pushing the clinging strands aside.
The playful energy that had filled the last few minutes settled into something quieter.
You were still catching your breath as you looked up at Owen and found him already looking at you.
The realization made your stomach flutter unexpectedly.
You suddenly became very aware of how close he was standing.
You cleared your throat.
“Maybe I should get out…” you said,
Owen blinked, as if he had completely forgotten he was there in the first place.
You gestured vaguely toward the yard and his bungalow.
“I think I need something that doesn't taste like lake water.”
“Oh, yeah..” he nodded.
You swam past him before the silence could become any more awkward.
The grass felt cool beneath your feet as you climbed out of the water and dropped down beside your abandoned beer and oversized shirt.
Hi! This request is based on something personal that I do, so I was wondering if you could do it ( ╹▽╹ )
It's about how readers are cold people (regarding temperature) they're always cold no matter where they are, then one day they hug the character (Aventurine, Sampo, Caelus and finally Childe), instead of it being a nice hug as it should be, the reader puts his hands under the character's shirt and it's worth mentioning that the reader has a low temperature therefore his hands are terribly cold. The reader did that just to annoy the character, also because he likes the character's warmth. It's something I do with my friends to annoy them ♪～(´ε｀ )
-💤🩵 anon
“The cold never bothered me anyway”
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Childe x Reader, Caelus x Reader, Flirting, Playful Teasing, Cold/Heat Contrast, Romantic Tension, Physical Touch (Hugging, Hands slipping under clothes), Vulnerability, Mutual attraction.
A/N: I'm not saying you're obsessed with Childe... But you're obsessed with him. I should probably run to hide my warmth 🏃♀️, don't know I'm still warm while wearing a tshirt and shorts in literal winter...🧍♀️
Aventurine leaned against the balcony railing, his ever-present smile in place, his golden rings catching the light from the stars above. Life was a game, and he always played to win—until now. You, however, were a challenge he hadn't quite figured out. Every time you entered the room, he could feel the chill in the air, the coldness seeping from your very presence, making him both curious and wary.
"Careful now, my dear," Aventurine said, his tone teasing, his eyes glinting beneath the soft light. "You're starting to freeze the very air around you."
You grinned, taking it in stride. "Maybe it's just you who's too warm."
With a sly smirk, you approached him. Before he could react, you wrapped your arms around him in a quick, almost too casual embrace. Aventurine’s laughter bubbled up at first, amused by your spontaneous affection. But then, the chill from your hands, as they slipped under his shirt and brushed against his warm skin, sent a shiver down his spine.
"You," Aventurine hissed, pulling back just enough to look at you with narrowed eyes, a mixture of annoyance and something deeper flickering behind his gaze. "Do you ever stop? I’m quite certain your hands could freeze the very life from me if you tried."
You only laughed, keeping your hands there, enjoying the sudden jolt of warmth his body gave you as he shifted uncomfortably. His usual suave charm seemed to falter for a brief moment, a rare glimpse of vulnerability.
"You’ve got all this warmth, Aventurine," you murmured playfully. "I think it’s only fair I take some."
Aventurine’s smile returned, but there was an edge to it. "You’re playing a dangerous game. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, dear. But, I must admit," he said, moving slightly closer, "it's rather... fun."
His words were calculated, but the warmth in his eyes was unmistakable.
Sampo paced around the bustling market square, always scanning for opportunities, always searching for his next big score. Yet, whenever you were around, he found himself distracted, his usual confidence slipping into something more unsure. There was something about your icy presence that gnawed at him.
"Hey, hey, don't give me that cold shoulder!" Sampo called out with a grin, catching you just as you passed by.
You simply smirked, the chill in your step unmistakable as you approached him with a twinkle in your eye. "What’s the matter, Sampo? You don’t seem as warm as usual."
Sampo raised an eyebrow. "What’s that supposed to mean?" he asked, but before he could retreat, you suddenly wrapped your arms around him in a hug. He grunted in surprise, but it was the sudden coldness from your hands slipping under his jacket that made his eyes widen.
"Sampo," you whispered mischievously, your fingers grazing his skin. "You're always so warm. Thought I'd help you cool off."
Sampo froze for a moment, his usual smooth talk faltering as your icy touch made him shiver. "O-Okay, that’s it!" he sputtered, trying to squirm free, but your hold was unyielding. "You better be paying me for this kind of service!"
You just leaned in closer, savoring the way his body stiffened in discomfort. "You’re always talking about warmth, but now you get to feel it from me."
"You’re lucky I’m not charging you double for this, you little...!" Sampo snapped, though the playful irritation in his voice was more endearing than anything. He couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "Aha, I guess I’ll have to get you back, huh?"
The Astral Express was always a whirlwind of motion, a place where time and space seemed to bend. But even among the stars, there was something about you that made Caelus uneasy. His curious eyes often lingered on you, and while he could never pinpoint it, there was an undeniable tension in the air between you two.
"Everything okay?" Caelus asked, walking up to you with a soft smile, his eyes always so calm.
You shrugged, your cold aura wrapping around him even as you stood by his side. "Everything’s fine," you said. "Just a bit cold, that’s all."
His eyes softened at the admission. He had always been sensitive to the feelings of others, and he could tell that you weren’t just referring to the temperature.
Without warning, you wrapped your arms around him, and Caelus tensed. It was warm, almost like a protective instinct, until he felt the sudden chill of your hands pressing against his skin, slipping beneath his jacket.
"Wait—!" Caelus began to protest, but the icy sensation sent a sharp shiver through him, his breath catching for a second.
You grinned into his ear. "Just wanted to see if you were as warm as you seem."
Caelus’s face flushed, his composure slipping as the coldness spread through his chest. "That's... that's not what I meant..." His voice trailed off, and his arms instinctively pulled away from you, trying to escape the discomfort of your touch, but there was a subtle warmth in his reaction too, an appreciation for the closeness.
You couldn’t help but laugh. "Relax, Caelus. Just a little cold comfort. Besides, you’re so warm I could get used to it."
He blinked at you, unable to hide his smile, despite the discomfort. "You... really are something else," he muttered, though a soft glow of affection began to flicker in his eyes.
[Header credits]
Childe was known for his toughness, his unshakable resolve in the face of any challenge. But when you entered his presence, it was as if a strange vulnerability crept into his heart. The way you held yourself, so cold yet so determined—it made him curious, though he’d never admit it.
"What’s the deal with you, huh?" Childe grinned, leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. "You always give off this frosty vibe."
You smirked back, walking closer to him with a casual air. "Maybe I just like your warmth, Childe."
Before he could respond, you wrapped your arms around him, the sudden hug catching him off guard. He was ready to laugh it off, but then, the icy shock of your hands sliding beneath his shirt made him stiffen, his breath hitching in surprise.
"Hey!" Childe exclaimed, quickly pulling back. "What the hell was that?"
You grinned widely, savoring the way he recoiled. "Just wanted to see if you could handle a little cold," you teased, your hands lingering for just a moment longer.
He shivered, but not from the cold. There was a heat to the way his body responded to you, despite the discomfort. "You think you can just sneak up on me like that?" he grumbled, though his tone lacked the usual sharpness.
"You should be more careful next time," you teased, stepping back with a satisfied smile.
Childe couldn’t help but laugh. "You're lucky I like a good challenge," he muttered, his grin wide and genuine, the warmth in his gaze unmistakable.
