✧ another version of me ✧

[saffron-evangaline]

Saffron smirked, letting the heat in her gaze lock onto him, knowing exactly what she was doing to him. She pressed just a little closer, the press of her hips against his deliberate, teasing, daring him to resist even if he wanted to. “Mhm,” she murmured, voice low and velvety, brushing lightly against his ear. “I like that answer. I like having control sometimes." Her fingers slid through his hair again, tugging just enough to make him shiver, her lips hovering over his jaw before brushing against it teasingly. “But don’t get too comfortable,” she whispered, a soft, sexy warning laced in her words. “I’m not done with you yet.” Saffron’s hands moved with intention, tracing the lines of his chest. Her smirk widened as she watched his eyes darken, watched his body respond to hers like she could see every thought before he even had it. She pressed her lips to his briefly, teasing, almost taunting, then pulled back just enough to let him catch his breath. “No backing out,” she murmured, letting her fingers hook into his shirt again. “You said you’re all mine good. Because I plan to make sure you mean every word of it." Her gaze was steady, confident, and daring, holding his with a challenge he couldn’t resist. Every movement was calculated to keep him on edge, wanting more, caught between anticipation and surrender. Saffron tilted her head, lips curling into a sly, mischievous smile as her fingers traced lightly over his chest. “No girlfriend?” she murmured, voice low, playful, dripping with confidence. “Shame, you're hot.” She leaned in just a fraction closer, letting her breath brush against his ear. “I was just about to convince you that she wouldn’t be shit compared to me, anyways.” Her smirk deepened as she pulled back slightly, letting her gaze roam over him, daring him to react. Saffron’s fingers hovered at the top of his shirt for just a moment before slipping inside, undoing the first button with a deliberate, slow motion. Her gaze flicked up to meet his, smoldering, daring him to protest. Then, with a teasing smirk, she eased the second button free, letting the fabric part just enough to reveal the smooth skin beneath. Saffron leaned in just slightly, letting her lips hover near his ear, breath warm and teasing. Her fingers brushed along his chest again, slow, deliberate. “You have full permission,” she murmured, voice low and sultry, “to do whatever you want to me.” She let her hand trail teasingly down the edge of his shirt, letting her gaze lock on his. “Your hands don’t have to stay there,” she added, words heavy with promise and challenge, daring him to take control, to test limits she was clearly offering. "I like it when they end up everywhere else."

[zaynsharma]

saffron was too close. zayn couldn’t focus, not with her hands on his chest, her fingers in his hair, or her nails tracing slowly along his jaw. she was intoxicating in the best way possible. he didn’t want to pull away, and even if there was something dangerous about her confidence, he was willing to ignore it just to stay this close to her. “i mean it,” zayn promised with a sly smile. when her gaze locked onto his, he didn’t look away—he couldn’t. he wanted to lose himself in those pretty brown eyes, wanted more, wanted everything she was willing to give him. when she said that if he had a girlfriend she would’ve convinced him she was nothing compared to her, he swallowed hard. he had never met anyone so straightforward before and, if he was being honest, he liked it. “i saved you time then, i guess,” he shrugged lightly. his hands stayed on her sides, resting against her waist, wanting to keep her there as long as he could. his attention dropped to her fingers as she undid the first button of his shirt, his heartbeat pounding hard enough he was sure she could feel it beneath her touch as her hands drifted lower across his chest. when she challenged him to stop holding back and put his hands all over her, he smirked softly. one hand slid from her waist to the back of her neck before he crashed his lips against hers. at first the kiss was slow, almost hesitant, like he needed a second to convince himself this was actually happening, but then he gave in completely. his other hand moved to her chin, thumb brushing gently against her lower lip until she parted them for him, deepening the kiss. he could hear whistles and teasing somewhere behind them, but he didn’t stop. he just wanted the rush of it, all the passion and danger wrapped up in her. even then he still held back slightly, somehow staying gentleman enough to keep one hand steady on her waist while the other cupped her face like she was something precious.

[saffron-evangaline]

Saffron felt the shift in him before she saw it, the way his breath changed, the way his hands grew surer, heavier on her hips. It made her smile, slow and knowing. She tilted her head slightly at his confession, lashes lowering as if she were considering something dangerous. “Assumed?” she echoed softly, her tone laced with playful disbelief. “Please.” Her fingers skimmed down from his collarbones, tracing an idle path over his chest as if she had all the time in the world. “You don’t look like a man who minds losing control. from time to time” When his arms wrapped fully around her waist and pulled her in, she let him, easily, willingly, her body molding to his like it had always belonged there. The bite of his lip didn’t go unnoticed. Nothing about him went unnoticed. She leaned closer, lips hovering near his ear now, her voice lowering just enough to make him focus. “Full of surprises?” she murmured. “You’ve only seen the beginning.” Her hips rolled again, slower this time, deliberate. Teasing. Testing. She felt the roughness creep into his voice when he suggested she wanted something more, and that made her grin against his skin. “Oh, I definitely want something more,” she admitted, fingers sliding to rest lightly at his sides, nails grazing just enough to leave a whisper of sensation. “But where’s the fun in giving you everything you want all at once?” Her gaze lifted to his, bold and unflinching, heat simmering there. She let her thumb trace lazily along his jaw before she leaned in just close enough for her lips to ghost near his. “Stopping myself,” she repeated softly, almost thoughtfully. “Maybe I like watching you wonder how far I’ll go.” She pulled back just slightly, barely an inch, keeping him suspended in that tension. One hand slid up the back of his neck, fingers tangling lightly in his hair as she tilted her head just enough to make him follow her movement. “I’d start with something like this…” And then she kissed him. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Slow. Her lips brushed his once, a testing press, before deepening, softer at first as if she were savoring the moment she’d made him wait for. Her other hand tightened slightly at his shirt, pulling him just a fraction closer as her body fit against his, hips aligning with his in a subtle reminder of everything she’d been promising all night. She let the kiss linger just long enough to make his earlier confidence feel fragile, then she eased back, barely an inch, her breath warm against his mouth. A satisfied, playful glint flickered in her eyes, as she licked over her bottom lip. Then, as if the thought had only just occurred to her, her brows lifted slightly. “Oh, ” she murmured, feigning innocence far too convincingly. “I forgot to ask.” Her hands slid from his chest down to rest at his waist again, fingers hooking lightly into the fabric of his shirt as she swayed with the music, keeping their bodies close. Always close. “Do you have a girlfriend I have to fight?”

[zaynsharma]

zayn was dancing to whatever tune saffron wanted, doing basically everything she asked without much resistance, and the worst part was that he didn’t even want to fight it. there was something about her that made him want to soak in every second. “i can give you all the control you want,” he promised, his arms wrapping around her waist, maybe liking the closeness a little too much. when her lips hovered near his ear he felt goosebumps run down his neck and spine, and as her hips rolled again his hands slid to either side of her waist, holding her there—he wasn’t sure if it was to keep her close or to stop her from doing that again. “i wasn’t expecting you to do that,” he admitted, glancing down at her, already knowing this was a battle he’d lost. when her fingers tangled in his hair he was sure of it. the moment she pressed her lips to his his eyes widened briefly before fluttering shut, both hands firm on her waist as he kept her close. when she pulled him nearer he let out a soft hum against her lips, the kiss better than anything he had imagined—hesitant at first, then closer, warmer, like something he’d been replaying in his head for days. when she pulled away and covered his mouth with her hand his gaze dropped to her lips as she licked her bottom lip, every tiny movement impossible for him to ignore. her hands slid down his chest, fingers hooking into the fabric of his shirt, and for a moment he wondered if this was some kind of fever dream he never wanted to wake from. “no,” he answered simply, voice low, eyes still on her. “i’m all yours.”

[hudson-everett]

“Oh yeah?” he shot back, arms crossing loosely. “You’d warn her? Please. You’d scare her off before I even got a word in.” His mouth twitched. “You’d miss me too much if I actually brought someone around." At the mention of Saffron, Hudson’s eyes narrowed right back at him. When Zayn wiggled his brows and repeated hidden-hidden, Hudson exhaled through his nose and dragged a hand down his face. “Alright,” he muttered. “Relax.” He shifted in his seat, jaw tightening slightly before he admitted it. “Yeah. I did.” His eyes flicked back up to Zayn’s. “Once.” He held the gaze, daring him to make it bigger than it was. “It wasn’t a big thing," he cut himself off, then reset. “It was private. That’s it. Some placements aren’t meant to be shown off freely. She's got tattoos with hidden meanings in hidden places." When Zayn went on about him being a walking art piece, Hudson glanced down at his arms like he was considering it. “I mean… yeah,” he admitted without shame. “If I’m gonna exist, I might as well be interesting to look at.” Then he pointed at him. “And for the record, I like conversations about a lot of things.” A beat. “Tattoos just happen to be superior.” At the comment about not trusting him with something private, Hudson’s brows lifted slowly. “Oh, you don’t trust me?” he echoed, tone deceptively calm. “That’s crazy. After I’ve given you all this emotional support? After I tolerate your personality?” There was a smirk tugging at his mouth now. “I’d never mess up something important on you,” he added, quieter but firm. “If I tattoo you, it’d be clean. Intentional. Something you won’t regret." When Zayn finger-gunned at him, Hudson rolled his eyes right back. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll tell you when. And don’t act scared when I do.” The second Zayn yanked away and called him an asshole, Hudson broke into a grin. “High pain tolerance?” he repeated skeptically. “You flinched at a hand grab.” He leaned back, smug. “Oh, you’d rather have her tattoo you?” he repeated, folding his arms. “That’s brave.” He tilted his head, studying him for a second, then shrugged casually. “I dare you,” he said. His tone wasn’t loud. It was steady. Challenging. “Book in with her. I wanna watch that session happen.” One brow lifted. “I’ll even bring popcorn. Sit in the corner. Super supportive.”

[zaynsharma]

“she’d be smart enough to run away,” he pointed out with a playful smirk as he chewed on a chip, zayn learning more about saffron by the minute—not only that she was dangerous and someone you definitely shouldn’t mess with, but that she also had hidden tattoos, the kind that weren’t meant to be shown off. “sure, hopefully before i die i’ll get a tattoo tour,” he added with a nod before chuckling. “tattoos are superior, you just say that because you’ve got too many of those to back out now,” he teased, glancing at hudson’s inked arm. “tell me something though, can you even get blood tests done on that arm anymore? you’re probably a doctor’s worst nightmare—‘yeah doc, it hurts here, right above the flower,’” he joked, clearly enjoying himself. “i know you’d mess it up, but if someone’s tattooing me at least she’d be hot. you’re not my type, hudson,” he added with a wink before shrugging. “actually i’ll take a tattoo from both of you, i’m a brave-ass man.” the second the word dare came up his eyebrows lifted—zayn loved a dare. “sure,” he said, reaching his hand out to shake on it, but before hudson could grab it his phone buzzed in his pocket; he pulled it out, glancing at the family group chat with a sigh. “i swear i don’t know where this girl sleeps half the time,” he muttered, shaking his head. “and i thought angel was the calm sister—nope, she’s sleeping out tonight too. i think her friend’s name is vivian… or shauni… or both, i don’t know, but apparently they just party every night and she crashes there,” he said, tossing the phone back down before extending his hand again with a crooked grin. “so… dare?” little did zayn know his sister wasn’t staying with vivian or shauni at all—in fact, angel would text hudson to tell him she was staying over at his place instead.

[saffron-evangaline]

Saffron laughed softly when he followed her so easily, the sound low and satisfied, like she’d already won. She turned in front of him on the dance floor with deliberate slowness, letting the music settle into her hips before she looked up at him. “See?” she said lightly, eyes sparkling. “You’re doing great. Still alive.” His hands found her hips, confident, grounding, and that just made her smile wider. She leaned in close, close enough that her breath brushed his jaw, but she didn’t rush it. Saffron never rushed. “You say that like you don’t like being out of control,” she murmured, voice smooth, teasing. “But your hands are telling a very different story.” She rolled her hips once, testing him, then once more, slower this time, fully aware of the effect it had. Her fingers slid up his chest, stopping just short of his collarbone. Then she leaned back just enough to meet his eyes properly, confident, glowing under his attention. “But let’s be honest,” Saffron finished, grinning. “You followed me out here because you wanted to see what I’d do next.” Saffron stepped in closer, closing the last inch of space between them until they were chest to chest, the music threading itself through her body and straight into his. One arm slid up and around the back of his neck with easy ownership, her fingers resting there like they belonged. She tipped her head slightly, eyes lifting to meet his, and then, slowly, deliberately, her gaze dropped to his lips. She lingered there just long enough to make the moment ache before looking back up at him again. Her free hand settled at his side as she moved with him, hips rolling softly, unhurried, letting their bodies find a rhythm together. She stayed close, intentionally so, every breath shared, every movement felt. “So,” she murmured, eyes lifting to meet his before drifting, unapologetically, to his mouth, “tell me…” Her gaze lingered there, teasing, patient, utterly confident. “What is it that you’re waiting for?”

[zaynsharma]

as they stepped onto the dance floor, he chuckled at her comment about him surviving the night. “i’m glad i am,” he replied lightly, his hands settling on her hips as the music pulsed around them. when she leaned in close enough for her warm breath to brush against his jaw, he had to steady himself, even if every instinct in him reacted. at her words, he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “i never said i didn’t like being out of control,” he murmured. “i’m pretty sure you just assumed that.” when her hips rolled against his, his grip tightened instinctively at her waist, a low exhale slipping past his lips. this was going to be a long night—he could already tell. as her hands trailed up his chest to his collarbones, he looked down at her, eyes darker now. “maybe i did,” he admitted quietly. when she closed the last inch of space between them, he wrapped his arms fully around her waist, pulling her in. he caught the way her gaze dipped to his lips, noticed every small movement, and just as the tension threatened to snap, her hand slid to his side and her hips rolled again, making him bite down on his lower lip. at her question, zayn shook his head slightly. “i wasn’t expecting that,” he confessed. “but you’re full of surprises.” his hands drifted lower along her back, resting just above her hips now. “i think there’s something else you want to do,” he added softly, voice rougher than before, “i just don’t know why you’re stopping yourself.” his thumb brushed lightly against her side. “was that the answer you were waiting for?”

[hudson-everett]

Hudson snorted softly when Zayn called him out, leaning back just a little deeper into his seat. He glanced over, lips quirking. “Mostly means,” he said evenly, like he’d already thought about this, “that I know how to behave when it matters. Your sister's like me and I like your sisters." At the husband comment, Hudson let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing,” he said. He didn't know if anybody would call him husband material if they'd know him prior to meeting Angel, but then again, no one knew about Angel. When the attention swung back to Saffron and the tattoos, Hudson rolled his shoulders, unbothered but not exactly eager either. “You’re reading too much into it,” he said, calm, casual. “Artists do work. Some clients don’t want it on display. She has some that are covered." At the ‘she trusts you’ comment, he tilted his head, accepting the chip mid-air with an easy catch. “Trust’s kind of the job description,” he replied. “If people didn’t trust me, I’d be out of business. Or in jail.” A beat. “Possibly both.” He shot Zayn a look when he teased him about a new bestie. “Relax,” Hudson said, shaking his head with a faint grin. “I’ve got enough friends. You're my best friend though." Then the free tattoo question came, and Hudson laughed again, this time more genuine. “Oh, now we’re getting to it,” he said. “You want a secret tattoo from me? You’d never shut up about it. Whole personality shift.” He gestured vaguely at Zayn. “Whatever, fine, I'll book you in whenever you've got some time though. I think it's about time you started getting some ink on you." He took a sip of his drink, eyes back on his friend. He reached out and pressed his hand over the top of Zayn’s, firm and deliberately patronising, like he was steadying a kid about to make a bad decision. He gave it a slow squeeze, eyes flicking down to their hands and then back up, amused. “You sure you can deal with the pain though?” A corner of his mouth lifted. “Because Saffron works in the station next to me.”

[zaynsharma]

zayn was genuinely glad hudson fit so easily into his family; it made everything simpler, lighter. he didn’t have to brace himself before bringing him over anymore—hudson was basically part of the sharma household at this point. “i’ll keep laughing until i see you with a girl,” he teased, grinning. “then i’m absolutely warning her. i’ll be like, ‘yo, he’s an idiot covered in ink. are you sure about this?’” a chuckle slipped out of him. when the topic shifted to saffron, he narrowed his eyes slightly. “i’m reading too much into it? i just want to know if you tattooed something on her. like… somewhere hidden-hidden,” he emphasized, wiggling his brows. “it’s not like you can show off all your tattoos at once anyway. that’d be impossible for you.” he shook his head. “you’re basically trying to become a walking art piece, aren’t you?” at hudson’s comment about liking conversations, zayn scoffed. “you like conversations as long as they’re about tattoos,” he corrected. “and i don’t know if i want a secret tattoo from you. i don’t know if i trust you to put something private on me,” he added, though a smirk tugged at his lips. “but fine, a tattoo could work. you tell me when.” he finger-gunned at him before stretching back. when hudson grabbed his hand, zayn’s brows furrowed in confusion before he quickly pulled away. “asshole,” he muttered. “shut up, i have a high pain tolerance.” he rolled his eyes dramatically. “actually, knowing that, maybe i’d rather have her tattoo me instead of you,” he shot back, unable to resist the tease.

[hudson-everett]

Hudson leaned back in his chair, drink in hand, eyes sparkling with amusement at Zayn’s teasing. He chuckled, shaking his head, the kind of grin that made it obvious he was enjoying every second of the banter. “Man, recording me begging?” he laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “That’s… borderline cruel." Also, it would be Zayn's sister which would be weird as fuck to show him so that was a no. When Zayn overshared about chili challenges and then talking about letting Saffron take control, Hudson snorted, a playful sparkle in his eyes. “Dude,” he said, nudging him lightly with an elbow, “if that’s hot, then you’re basically a walking danger sign. I'll pray for you sanity with her." Hudson grinned wider at the playful jibe about being the prettiest Sharma. He definitely disagreed but Zayn was handsome looking. But when Zayn’s expression went serious, Hudson leaned back, smooth and composed, masking the flicker of nerves that ran under the surface. He raised a brow, matching Zayn’s gaze. “Relax,” he said lightly. “I stay far away from your sisters … mostly.” He let the words hang for just a beat, giving a teasing lilt to the edge of his tone before taking another sip of his drink. Hudson scoffed, clearly amused with himself, and flashed Zayn an easy, confident grin. He lifted his drink slightly, like he was toasting his own point. “You would absolutely love me if you were into dudes,” he said smoothly, completely serious in the most unserious way. He shrugged, rolling his shoulders like it was no big deal, though the charm never dropped. “I haven’t done a serious relationship in years,” Hudson went on, voice light and teasing, “but I’m telling you—if I actually tried? I could be somebody’s husband material.” He smirked, eyebrows lifting as he looked at Zayn. “Lucky for the world, I’m humble about it. I just like testing the waters to know what I like before settling." His smirk betrayed the fact that he was hiding someone—Angel, of course—but Zayn didn’t need to know that. When Zayn raised the question about tattoos, Hudson’s eyes twinkled with mischief. He leaned forward, voice low and conspiratorial, dodging neatly. “Maybe I know a thing or two,” he said smoothly, shrugging like it was no big deal. “But do I do them? Who knows” He gave a wink, enjoying the tension, the mystery, and the way Zayn tried to read him, all while keeping his secret safe. Hudson leaned back, grin spreading across his face, voice smooth and teasing. “Nah, I’m joking,” he said, giving a little shake of his head. “I have tattooed her in a few places. We all have. She trusts me.” He shrugged casually, the charm oozing from every gesture. “She’s a bad girl with a good heart… and yeah, she loves her ink.” He leaned in just a fraction closer, voice dropping so it sounded almost conspiratorial. “Let me know when you find her secret tattoos,” he added with a sly smile, “and I’ll tell you I did them.”

[zaynsharma]

it wasn’t really up to zayn to decide what was hot and what wasn’t, but saffron was hot—lava looked like ice in comparison—and that was something zayn was more than happy with. “walking danger sign, but a cute one,” he pointed out, chuckling as he leaned back and glanced at his best friend with a pleased smile. he noticed hudson mirroring his movement and raised his eyebrows at him. zayn shook his head at his words, satisfied with the answer until he caught the last part. “mostly? what the hell does mostly mean?” his brows furrowed, genuinely confused, because it was such a weird distinction. “husband material?” he scoffed. “i don’t think that’s even possible, hudson. you as a husband? don’t make me laugh,” he said, shaking his head with an amused smile. not that he knew if he himself was husband material—his aunties would swear he was, but he wasn’t so sure. when the conversation drifted back to saffron, his eyes narrowed as he looked at his best friend, noticing how he dodged the question about whether he’d tattooed any of her secret tattoos. “you say a few places, and that just makes me think it’s not anywhere visible,” he pointed out, not jealous, just curious… maybe a little jealous. “she trusts you, aw,” he chuckled. “you found a new bestie, huddy?” he teased, taking a sip of his drink. he grabbed a chip and tossed it in hudson’s direction. “stop with the secret tattoos,” he mused. “i don’t care if you did them or not,” zayn added, brushing it off like he was totally cool about it. “the real question is, when are you going to give me a secret tattoo for free?” he finished, wiggling his eyebrows at hudson.

[saffron-evangaline]

Saffron watched him with a slow, knowing smile, the kind that said she’d already decided the outcome before he’d even finished speaking. She leaned an elbow against the bar, posture relaxed, utterly in control, eyes flicking over his face like she was committing every reaction to memory. “Oh, I’m not warning you,” she said lightly, voice smooth and amused. “I’m just being polite enough to let you know what you’re walking into.” Her lips curved. “And you’re right—I do love a challenge. Especially when someone thinks they might survive me.” At his comment about ruining lives, she laughed softly, head tilting. “Ruining is such an ugly word,” Saffron replied. “I prefer rearranging priorities of which I become the number one one.” Her gaze sharpened, playful but dangerous. “People tend to thank me eventually and tell me that I change their lives for the better." When he admitted that maybe that was just what he got from her, her smile softened—just a fraction. “Good,” she said simply. “I don’t need you pretending to be something you’re not.” She reached out then, fingers brushing his jaw deliberately, just long enough to feel him tense beneath her touch. She hummed when he agreed so easily, clearly pleased. Her fingers slid into the hair at the back of his neck, thumb resting there with intent. She held him there for a beat longer, close enough that he could feel her warmth, her presence—then, just as deliberately, she stepped back. She rose from her seat, smoothing her hands down her mini-dress sides as she stood, every movement unhurried, intentional. As she passed him, she brushed against him on purpose—hip, thigh, shoulder, ass —enough to make it impossible to ignore. Then she reached back, fingers curling around his hand, tugging him gently toward her. Her grin turned wicked as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Come on, Zaynie” Saffron said, voice bright with promise. “Dance with me?”

[zaynsharma]

hudson had warned him about her—everyone who knew her had—but there he was, ignoring every sign. he wanted the date to work, even if that meant giving up the little control he had over anything and handing it all over to saffron. he wasn’t in charge, and somehow that didn’t scare him the way it probably should have. “thanks for being this polite,” she chuckled, and he shook his head at her words. “i don’t think i’ll survive you, i’m just here to see how this goes,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, trying to swallow down his worries. “we’ll see if i thank you,” he challenged, even though he already knew he would. as she reached out, her fingers brushing his jaw, his jaw clenched, dark brown eyes locked on her like nothing else existed. when her fingers slid to the back of his hair, he leaned in slightly, already done for. but just as he thought she was going to kiss him, she pulled away, stepping back, and he let out a quiet sigh. he was so dead. she stood up, and zayn’s eyes followed her, every move feeling carefully planned. when she passed him and brushed her ass against him, he thought he might actually lose it. he reached for his drink again, needing more liquid courage, but she caught his hand and tugged him gently along. “anything,” he murmured, following her to the dance floor. once there, he placed both large hands on her hips without hesitation, smirking down at her as if he still had any control at all.

[hudson-everett]

Hudson barked a laugh at Zayn’s dramatics, lifting his drink like he was toasting to the ridiculousness. “Buddy, if you ever hear me beg, just pull the plug and take me out. That’s not a world I want to live in.” But the moment Zayn started waxing poetic about Saffron being an electric fence, Hudson snorted loud enough to draw a look from a stranger at the next table. “Yeah, she’s electric. She’s also the kind of hazard they put warning signs on. You’d lean in, lick the damn sign, and then complain when your eyebrows burn off.” When Zayn accused him of lacking purity, Hudson clutched his chest dramatically. “Wow. Straight to slander. I’ll have you know I am deeply pure. Pure chaotic energy, pure bad decisions, and pure disappointment. Triple threat.” The pretty‑boy line earned a slow blink from Hudson before he burst into laughter. “You’re not even the prettiest Sharma in your own house, bro." He took a sip to hide the way his pulse jumped at Angel’s name—just enough to mask it, not enough to be obvious. He shrugged casually, too casually. “Anyone with an actual brain wouldn’t let her slip. But what do I know? I’m just over here, being pure.” When Zayn called him out on his word choices, Hudson waved him off. “I contain multitudes. Vocabulary multitudes.” Then came the landmine: sisters are off-limits. Hudson froze for half a beat—just half—before grinning wide, masking the crack in his composure with bravado. “Confessing? Me?” He let out a dramatic scoff. “Man, I’d let you kick my ass. Hell, I’d probably even help.” Zayn tried to look intimidating, and Hudson lost it immediately. “Dude—please. You couldn’t scare a raccoon off a sandwich.” He gave his leg a soft kick, grin easy, voice light—covering just how close Zayn had stumbled to the truth. “I’m a lot of things,” he said, letting the words hang just long enough to make Zayn curious. “A great boyfriend is one of them… with the right person.” He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes glinting. Hudson grinned, shaking off the moment of honesty like it had never happened. “Anyway, back to Saffron,” he said, voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Has she given you a tattoo tour yet?" Hudson leaned back, spinning his drink lazily in one hand. “She’s got some visible, some hidden,” he said, eyes flicking up at Zayn with a grin. “Uncovered the layers yet?"

[zaynsharma]

zayn had to laugh at that. "no, actually, i want whoever you end up seeing to record you begging so i can savor it," he chuckled. "that’s not a world you want to live in, but i would love to see you beg," he teased, taking a sip of his drink. "you know what? sometimes i just can’t say no to a little danger. it’s like when i compete with my uncle to see who can eat the most chilies; i know my overshared business is gonna be burning like hell later, but i do it anyway," he laughed. "don’t ask me why, man, but if she asked, i wouldn't mind letting her take control. in fact, i bet that’s fucking hot," he confessed. as far as he knew saffron, there was no way he’d ever be in charge—and he wasn't even going to pretend he’d mind her being on top. they were playing her game, not his. zayn was about to bark when hudson started the whole 'i'm deeply pure' thing, but as he kept going, he just lost it. "that’s true, bro," he nodded. "and hey, take that back—i’m the prettiest sharma. it’s a shame your straight ass can't comprehend masculine beauty when it's right in front of you," he pointed a finger at him with a grin. as the topic turned to his sister, his expression leveled out. "yeah, stay 'pure' far away from her," he nodded, locking eyes with hudson before grabbing another cold chip. he shook his head at his friend. "hey, raccoons are fucking scary, don't mess with them," he laughed. "a great boyfriend? oh, don't make me laugh. i don't think i’ve ever seen you in a long-term relationship, which says a lot about your 'boyfriend qualities,'" he pointed out. "what surprises me is how tame you look. i hope you’re not keeping some pretty girl hidden from me, because i’d be pissed if i didn't know about that kind of stuff—especially after i told you about saffi." at the question about saffron’s tattoos, zayn just shook his head. "i’ve seen a couple. but the real question is, you seem to know a lot about those hidden ones," he said, raising his eyebrows. "did you do any of them?" he asked back, dodging the question to see if he could play the mysterious game too.

[saffron-evangaline]

Saffron was many things—pretty, a smart ass, annoying—but the part she liked most was watching him flounder just trying to keep up. She leaned just a fraction closer, letting her eyes hold his in a silent challenge. “Careful, I wouldn't ask if I were you,” she warned, her voice low, teasing, “I’m dangerous by design. And I like to win.” She leaned back, letting him squirm under her scrutiny. She took a slow sip of her drink, deliberately slow, each motion a show for him. She knew what she was doing. She'd practiced flirting with guys more than anything else. “You’d thank me for ruining your life?” Saffron’s voice was soft, almost a purr, but there was an edge to it. She leaned in just enough to let the heat of her presence brush against him, eyes glinting with mischief. “Sweet, delusional, but sweet,” she murmured, letting the words hang between them like a promise—and a warning. “Who said I want a gentleman?” Saffron leaned back, letting the corner of her smirk tilt upward, eyes glinting with mischief. She tapped her finger against her lips lightly, mock-considering, before letting her voice drop just low enough to make him shiver. “I taste good, by the way.” Every word was deliberate, teasing, and dangerous—she wasn’t flustered, she was performing, and he was already hooked. Every tilt of her head, every slow blink was a reminder: she controlled this game, and he was already playing by her rules. She tilted her head, letting her fingers graze his jaw lightly, enough to make him pause. “If I wanted you to look,” she said, slow, deliberate, dangerous, “I’d tilt your head and make you look.” Her smirk was razor-sharp, daring him to argue. “So don’t get ahead of yourself.” Saffron reached up, fingers threading through the back of his hair. She let her eyes roam over him with a teasing glint. Every inch of her said it without words: I do what I want—and you follow. "Where is the place, Zayn?"

[zaynsharma]

zayn had heard the stories; his best friend had made sure he knew exactly who saffron was. and even if a part of him was terrified of her, there was this other part that actually thought he could win her over and survive. it was crazy. they were both playing her game, and she was the only one who knew the rules, yet here he was—totally willing to lose. "you warn me, but at the same time, i bet you’re dying to tell me about this challenge," he said, trying to play it cool as he leaned his shoulder against the bar counter. "i wouldn't expect anything less from you," he confessed, a smirk playing on his lips. saffron was a show—one you had to watch from a distance if you didn't want to get burned—but everything she did was so precise it made zayn wonder if she was even real, or just some dream his head had invented. "i bet i wouldn't be the first person to thank you for ruining their life," he mused. it wasn't an accusation, just an observation. "maybe that’s just what you get from me," he added. he wasn't hudson; he couldn't play the bad guy. he could try, but deep down he knew that wasn't him, and he couldn't keep the facade up for long. every word that left her lips was enough to make him fluster, though he was glad he was at least decent at hiding it. as he felt her fingers graze his jaw, his muscles tightened. her words left him speechless; he had nothing to add, just a mix of awe and desperation. he had to stop himself from reflexively saying "sorry" to her. "sure," he nodded instead. when her fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his neck, he got goosebumps all over. "i don't think i even need to answer that. i’m pretty sure you already know where my head's at," he mused softly. "and we both know what i want isn't what matters. we’ll do whatever you want, because that’s just how your game works." with her hand on the back of his neck, he wanted nothing more than to lean down and kiss her, but he didn't move. that wasn't part of her plan, and he knew it. he was completely helpless.

[saffron-evangaline]

Saffron’s smirk widened, slow and deliberate, the kind that made it impossible for Zayn to look anywhere else. She laughed softly, that smoky, playful sound that seemed to curl around him. “Zayn,” she said, leaning closer so their faces were inches apart, “you’re cute when you’re flustered. But trust me — I’m not here to play nice. I like a challenge.” Her hand slid under his chin again, tilting his face just slightly as she let her gaze roam over him, sharp and hungry. “Scare you? Please,” she teased, a dark chuckle escaping her. “I don’t scare you?” Her smirk softened into a teasing grin. “You’ve got potential to keep me on my toes. That’s more than most people can manage.” Her fingers lingered just a fraction longer before pulling back, though the tension didn’t leave the space between them. “And don’t worry,” she added, letting her voice drop into something intimate and sly, “I don’t need anyone to share your attention. But I do love seeing you squirm when you realise I can make you feel… whatever I want.” She leaned back slightly, the smirk never leaving her lips, eyes glinting with fire and mischief. Her presence was magnetic, dangerous, and flirty. Saffron’s smirk deepened, sharp and playful, as she leaned just a fraction closer, letting her voice drop into that low, teasing drawl that made Zayn’s chest tighten. “You’ll thank me for it?” she echoed, letting the words linger between them like a dare. Her fingers brushed lightly against his jaw, tilting his face up just enough to keep him off balance. “Oh, Zayn… you already sound like you’re ready to,” she purred, letting a slow, wicked grin tug at her lips. Saffron tilted the glass to her lips, taking a slow, deliberate swig, the liquid catching the light as she swallowed. She let out a soft hum of satisfaction, eyes flicking up to Zayn with that familiar mischievous spark. “Mm, not bad,” she murmured, licking her lips lightly. “Why are you staring at my lips by the way? My tits are down here!” she joked, the grin on her face impossibly wide - pointing right at them.

[zaynsharma]

saffron was many things — pretty, challenging, smart — but the thing that kept zayn wanting more was the way she carried herself, like she owned every room she stepped into, and he’d been hooked since second one. “a challenge,” he hummed. “what kind of challenge do you want?” he asked, trying to sound steady. when her hand slid under his chin, he could swear his heart stopped. she was dangerous. “i have potential? i think i can do that,” he mused, pretending he wasn’t flustered out of his mind. she was too good with words; she had him unraveling just by promising things. “i’m pretty sure you can make anyone do whatever you want,” he admitted, fully believing it. that smile, those eyes—everything about her pulled him in, and when she leaned just a fraction closer, he thought it was going to happen. her fingers brushed his jaw, light enough to make every nerve in him stand at attention. “you could ruin my life and i’m sure i’d thank you for it,” he murmured. he cleared his throat. “ready to thank you already? so far you’ve done nothing,” he tried, attempting to shift from flustered to confident, failing miserably. he watched her take a slow swallow of her drink, his gaze dragging down her neck, watching her lips, and his stomach tightened. how could someone turn drinking into a damn performance? she was dangerous by design, he was convinced. “because even if i’m dying to taste you, i’m a gentleman—deep down, at least,” he said. with a sudden spike of courage, he leaned in close to her ear. “if what you want is for me to look down at your tits, this isn’t the place,” he breathed, dropping the words like a challenge. then he pulled back, grabbed his drink, and took a sip—not to tease her, but to drown how nervous she made him.

[hudson-everett]

"Oh, come on, Zayn,” he teased, voice low and playful, “you know I don’t just give out the golden touch to anyone. You gotta earn it.” He wiggled his eyebrows, clearly enjoying the way Zayn’s expression was changing. "And, I don't beg, much." Unless, it was to Angel, but he wasn't going to say that to Zayn. "Sounds like you’re volunteering yourself for a dangerous experiment, man. You sure you’re ready for that kind of hazard?" Saffron was a crazy chick. A good laugh too, but the girl was wild. When Zayn brought up his mom, Hudson couldn’t help himself—he leaned in, smirking, and let the teasing linger. “Ohhh, don’t act all shocked now. You know I’m just appreciating what’s in front of me. That’s all. Purely…artistic admiration,” he said, waggling his fingers like it was the most innocent thing in the world. Zayn lunged forward, mock-scary, demanding he take it back. Hudson just laughed, dodging slightly, letting the tension build. “Take it back?” he echoed, voice playful. “Sorry, man, no can do." When Zayn rattled off his list of no go's —Zara, Mom, Angel—Hudson leaned in with a wicked grin. “Angel into losers, huh?" Hudson took a slow swig of his drink, leaning back in his chair as he let his eyes drift just a little, imagining Angel laughing with other guys. His stomach tightened, and he couldn’t help but pull a face, a mix of jealousy and disbelief crossing his features. “Your sisters are attractive, ... all of you Sharma's are ... you've all got good genes,” he said, letting the words slip out with a teasing lilt, though there was a subtle edge to his tone, his mind still stuck on Angel. He set the glass down with a faint clink, leaning back further, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake the image that had popped uninvited into his head. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I shouldn't - don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, flashing Zayn a crooked grin, half-playful, half-mortified, hoping the comment would land as lighthearted teasing rather than reveal just how much Angel had him flustered.

[zaynsharma]

zayn rolled his eyes at his best friend. “much?” the little appreciation at the end of his words made him pause. “curious little word to add to that statement — now i wanna know when you do beg so i can absolutely mortify you with it,” he joked. when hudson mentioned saffron being a safety hazard, zayn let out a laugh. “she’s electric. i wouldn’t mind getting burned, or whatever the hell happens when you touch an electric fence.” there was something about saffron that kept him orbiting her — she was terrifying, too bold, but she had that spark that made him willingly walk closer just to feel the burn. “there’s nothing pure in you, hudson,” he snorted. “rude, though — you’re not even looking at me like that when i’m clearly the prettiest sharma.” he fluttered his eyelashes dramatically, then shivered. “okay, that was too much even for me.” thinking back on the list of ex-boyfriends angel had brought home, zayn had long since decided her taste was basically “certified losers.” they all looked cool but deep down, they were pathetic for letting his sister slip away. “for sure she is,” he said of saffron. “who in the world lets her go for someone else? and then plays it cool? that’s major loser energy.” he mirrored hudson, taking a sip, still leaning lazily against the table. “shouldn’t? man, what’s going on with you and those words lately? choose a lane,” he teased. “sisters are off-limits, you know.” he squinted at him. “i hope you’re not confessing something, or i’m gonna have to kick your ass right here, everett.” he tried to look intimidating — failed immediately — and cracked up. “i’m not good at being scary when you look at me like that, man.”

[hudson-everett]

Hudson leaned back in his chair, grinning like he’d just pulled off the best prank. “Oh, come on, Z,” he said, shaking his head with exaggerated disbelief, “you act like you’ve got some kind of golden touch or something. She's going to end up eating you alive, dude." He wiggled his eyebrows, letting the smirk linger just long enough to annoy his bestie. Hudson leaned over the table, letting his hand brush against Zayn’s shoulder as he gave his arm a quick, friendly pat. “Good luck with Saffron,” he said with a mischievous grin, eyes sparkling like he was sharing a secret. “She’s… batshit crazy.” He laughed softly, leaning back and letting the words hang in the air, just enough to make Zayn question whether he was joking—or giving a warning. The gesture was casual, but the teasing in his tone made it unmistakably Hudson: part bestie, part troublemaker, all charm. When Zayn brought up his own mom, Hudson’s grin stretched wider, teasing, hands raised in mock surrender. “Whoa, whoa, take it easy, dude," he laughed. Hudson leaned back a little, then suddenly leaned forward again, dragging his hand across his face like he was struck by some tragic love story. He let out a low, exaggerated sigh, eyes rolling dramatically as he made a goofy, in-love face. “Momma Sharma in that one tight looking outfit… goddamn,” he said, voice dripping with mock adoration, just enough to make Zayn groan and shake his head. He leaned back, smirking like he knew exactly how ridiculous he looked—and loving every second of it. “I’m just saying, man… respect where it’s due.” Hudson’s smirk faltered just a touch when Zayn mentioned anyone else with the last name Sharma. He leaned back, lifting his drink to his lips, and took a slow sip, eyes glinting with mock nonchalance. “Yeah… sure, man,” he said casually, the tiniest edge in his voice hinting he wasn’t about to talk about that. "I don’t take back on the Mom comment, though,” he said, voice teasing but sincere in its own mischievous way. He tipped his head toward Zayn with a smirk. “Your mom’s… hot.” Hudson suddenly grabbed his hand and started fanning his face dramatically. "Your dad's a lucky man."

[zaynsharma]

zayn raised his eyebrows at hudson. "you don't know if i have a golden touch—do you want me to touch you?" he asked, eyebrow cocked, a playful smile on his lips. "if that's all you need to be happy, you just have to beg for it, man." "honestly, she's so hot i don't mind if she eats me alive and then spits me out," he shrugged. "some experiences are worth it." he grinned. "thanks — i feel like this is your way of encouraging me because you tried before and she didn't even give you the time of day," he teased, knowing it wasn't true but loving to rile hudson anyway. he knew his best friend wasn't joking: saffron was dangerous, the way she moved and played with people. still, if he was honest, he didn't mind—he wanted to see where it could go, and if it failed he'd at least have a good story. seeing hudson about to win the argument made him bristle; when family was involved hudson could get under his skin. "and can you stop telling me how good my mom looks? ew, hudson," he said, leaning back and pretending to be disgusted. "stop imagining my mom—you'll be banned from my place," he threatened, covering his face with his hands in mock desperation. "take it back," he insisted, leaning closer with a mock-scary look. "can we stop talking about my family? please, keep your distance from everyone." he shook his head. "zara has a boyfriend, mom is married, and…" he stopped, pointing at hudson. "angel's into losers, so keep your tattooed ass away — wait, that doesn't bother me, she could eat you alive if you tried anything with her; i think she has good taste."

[saffron-evangaline]

Saffron’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as she watched Zayn’s gaze flicker between her and the bartender. “Oh, you think you’re smooth, don’t you?” she purred, voice dripping with playful challenge, yet laced with a teasing edge that made him lean closer without thinking. Her fingers brushed lightly against his arm again, just enough to spark heat, and she leaned in, letting the warmth of her body press subtly against his. “Not everyone’s up for it… not everyone knows how to give me what I want.” Her smile deepened, part devilish, part vulnerable, as if daring him to prove he could. When Zayn’s compliment hit—those drinks, that nickname—her chest rose with a soft, teasing laugh. “Filthy and strong, huh?” she murmured, leaning closer, letting her hair brush his shoulder, the motion casual but charged. “Angel face… now that’s dangerously flattering.” Her voice dropped, almost a whisper, letting him feel the pull of her attention like a physical thing. She let her fingers slide down his arm slowly, teasing, needy just enough to make him wonder if she’d always been this intoxicating—or if tonight was her magic in action. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?” she asked softly, almost coaxing, her lips curving into a wicked grin. “Because I don’t share well… and I don’t do subtle.” Every glance, every brush of her hand, every sultry tilt of her head was a deliberate play—devilish and flirty, hot and just slightly vulnerable, drawing him in, making him helpless to resist the orbit she’d created around him. Her lips curved into a wicked smile as she arched an eyebrow. “And paying for our drinks?” she murmured, voice low, sultry, and teasing all at once. “I’d say you’re flirting with me. Can’t get enough, Zayn?” Saffron’s fingers slid under Zayn’s chin, tilting his face up so he couldn’t look anywhere but her eyes. Her grip was firm but teasing, a challenge wrapped in sultry warmth. She leaned in just slightly, her voice dropping to a soft, teasing purr. “Do I… scare you?” she murmured, letting the words linger, her gaze sharp and daring, but impossibly magnetic. Her lips curved into a wicked, flirty smile, eyes glittering with mischief and heat. “Or… do you like it?”

[zaynsharma]

zayn noticed the smirk tugging at her lips—it was impossible to miss that she was enjoying herself. “not as smooth as you,” he murmured, half teasing, half admitting defeat. hudson had warned him about her—the way she worked people, how effortlessly she could read and reel them in—but none of that had prepared him for this. for her. the way her fingers brushed lightly against his arm made something in him short-circuit; every instinct screamed to stay right there, in her orbit, for as long as she’d let him. “you think i’ll just give you what you want?” he asked, raising a brow, though his voice wasn’t nearly as steady as he wished. ordering their drinks had already been a bold move—describing her the way he had, giving her that nickname—it had slipped out smoother than he expected. his gaze flicked from the bartender back to her, unable to help himself. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promised quietly. “why would you ever have to share me?” his tone dropped just slightly, the tease almost intimate. “i bet you’re more than capable of keeping my attention on your own.” and it was true; she already had him hanging on every word. “am i?” he echoed when she accused him of flirting, pretending not to know, even though he absolutely was. then her hand was under his chin, tilting his face toward hers, and the world just stopped. no one had ever done that to him—so casually, so confidently—and yet he couldn’t imagine wanting her to stop. her eyes burned into him, and he felt himself melt beneath that steady, dangerous gaze. “you don’t scare me,” he said, though the tremor in his chest betrayed him. he was scared—but not of her. of what she made him feel. “i do like it,” he confessed, voice softer now. “no one’s ever had the confidence to do this before.” he drew in a slow breath, gaze flicking down to her lips for a fraction of a second before finding her eyes again. “and honestly? i feel like it doesn’t matter what i say—you’ll do whatever you want with me anyway. and i’ll probably thank you for it.”

[zaynsharma]

✧ family lunch ✧

the sharmas were hosting a family lunch, which meant the kind of organized chaos that could only come from cramming more than twenty relatives into one house. the siblings had been through this routine enough times to know that as soon as their parents announced it’s at our place, it was less an invitation and more a command. every able-bodied sharma child was drafted into the unspoken army of preparation. first came the tidying—books yanked from the couch and stacked neatly, random shoes banished to closets, spare blankets folded even though no one would touch them. then the vacuuming, each sibling covering a section of the house until the hum of the machine echoed like background music. angel, the most thorough of the three, finished off with the mop, moving from room to room in smooth arcs, her forehead already damp with effort. “no one walk on this floor or so help me—” she muttered, glaring as zara tried to sneak through to grab her phone charger.

the kitchen, though, was forbidden territory. their grandmother’s presence reigned supreme there, and everyone knew the unspoken rule: stay out, unless you wanted a lecture about how “the masala will never taste right if you measure with spoons instead of your heart.” everyone, that is, except zayn. somehow he had been exempted from the ban, the only one trusted not to “ruin the food,” as grandma put it. the privilege went straight to his head, of course. while angel sweated over the floors and zara set out cutlery with a dramatic sigh, zayn moved freely in the kitchen, chopping, stirring, and frying like he was born for it.

it wasn’t just the cooking, though—it was the soundtrack. zayn hummed under his breath as he worked, bollywood songs he claimed to not really know, even though the rhythm was perfect, even though his lips shaped words when he thought no one was looking. when zara leaned against the doorway and caught him mid-verse, her grin spread like wildfire. “oh my god, you know the lyrics,” she sing-songed, pointing at him like she’d uncovered the world’s greatest scandal.

zayn’s shoulders stiffened, and he deliberately turned his back to her, stirring the pot with unnecessary focus. “i don’t,” he said flatly, but the hum slipped out again, and this time it was unmistakable.

“you totally do,” zara pressed, stepping into the kitchen despite knowing grandma would scold her if she walked in too far. “don’t even try to deny it—i heard you say tere naina just now. your secret bollywood playlist is showing.”

angel, still holding the mop like a weapon, poked her head in from the hall. “wait, zayn sings?” she asked, eyes wide with mock surprise.

zayn groaned. “i don’t sing. i hum.”

“humming with words is called singing,” zara shot back, practically bouncing with the joy of teasing him. “oh my god, you’re like the mysterious bollywood hero who pretends he’s too cool but secretly knows all the shahrukh khan songs by heart.”

angel smirked. “next family karaoke night, i’m putting your name down first.”

“absolutely not.” zayn pointed a spoon at both of them like it was a sword. “if you tell anyone else, i swear—”

“you swear what?” zara cut in, raising her brows. “you’ll serenade us with tum hi ho? please, i’m begging you.”

angel laughed so hard she nearly slipped on her freshly mopped floor. “grandma’s going to be so proud when she finds out her golden boy isn’t just the kitchen favorite, but the family’s secret playback singer too.”

zayn groaned louder, setting the spoon down with a clatter. “why did i even agree to cook?”

“because you’re the favorite,” zara teased, ducking just in time as he tossed a kitchen towel in her direction.

“and because you love us,” angel added sweetly, leaning on her mop.

zayn rolled his eyes, cheeks just a little pink, and muttered something about how the food wasn’t going to stir itself. but the humming didn’t stop. if anything, it got louder, almost defiantly, and the sisters exchanged a look that said they’d won.

and when grandma finally peeked in to check on him, she found her grandson at the stove, humming a perfectly in-tune line of a song she recognized instantly. she didn’t say anything, just smiled to herself and walked away, because some secrets were too sweet to ruin.

the sharmas’ house was alive in the way it always was during family lunches — doors opening and shutting, cousins darting through hallways, uncles arguing about cricket, aunties comparing recipes in the living room. zayn kept to his usual territory, the kitchen, where the scent of cumin and coriander clung to the air. he stirred a pot with focus, hoping the noise outside would keep people occupied long enough for him to finish cooking in peace.

no such luck.

zara and angel were the first to start, leaning against the counter with identical mischievous grins. “you know,” zara said loudly, just as two aunties walked in, “zayn spends way too much time in here. maybe he’s hiding a girlfriend he doesn’t want us to meet.”

“or a boyfriend,” angel added innocently, shrugging. “we don’t judge.”

zayn nearly dropped the spoon. “can you not?” he muttered, glaring at both of them, but his sisters were sharks — once they smelled blood, there was no stopping them.

the aunties lit up like Diwali lamps. “girlfriend?!” one of them gasped, delighted. “zayn, my boy, why didn’t you tell us? when do we meet her?”

“there’s no one,” he said firmly, ladling sauce onto the chicken like the food could shield him from their questions.

“oh, come on,” another auntie chimed in, her bangles clinking as she settled against the counter. “handsome boy like you? good cook? you think we’ll believe you’re single?”

by then, the cousins had caught wind. meera poked her head in from the doorway, practically vibrating with glee. “what’s this about zayn having a secret romance?” she yelled down the hall, ensuring everyone heard.

“meera!” he barked, but it was too late. within minutes, the kitchen was packed. cousins, aunties, even an uncle or two, all crowding around as if zayn were some rare spectacle.

zara, of course, poured fuel on the fire. “he’s so private, you know. always going for walks alone. who knows where he goes, who he meets…”

angel crossed her arms, eyes twinkling. “exactly. suspicious behavior if you ask me.”

“the only thing suspicious here,” zayn snapped, “is why you two haven’t been told to set the table yet.”

they ignored him, because by now the entire room had joined the game. “don’t be shy, zayn,” one uncle said, grinning. “your dadi was just telling us how she wants to see you married before she…”

“uncle!” zayn cut him off, cheeks hot, voice sharper than he meant. grandma, who had just walked in, smacked the uncle’s arm with her cane. “don’t say such things. i’m not going anywhere.” then, turning to zayn, she softened. “but it would be nice to see you happy, hm? someone to share your cooking with.”

that hit different. the cousins laughed, the aunties kept prying, but her words lodged somewhere deeper. zayn masked it with a groan, muttering under his breath as he ushered everyone out of the kitchen, finally slamming the door behind them for a moment of peace.

later, when lunch was served and the chaos mellowed into the clatter of plates and chatter around the long dining table, zayn sat between zara and angel. they kept nudging him, whispering fake names for his “mystery partner,” trying to get him to break. he ignored them, head bent, quietly eating while his family carried on around him.

but even through the teasing and noise, he couldn’t shake his grandmother’s words. someone to share his cooking with. he’d laughed it off, but deep down, maybe she wasn’t wrong.

[hudson-everett]

“Confidence isn’t about blowing your own horn, bro. It’s about knowing you don’t need to.” His grin widened, smug as hell. He knew where the conversation was heading, and he knew how to steer it. The shift was subtle, but Hudson’s expression told Zayn everything. He was onto him. His eyes glinted with amusement as Zayn set the stage for what was coming next. Then, Zayn leaned back, that familiar smirk making Hudson chuckle under his breath. He could tell his best friend was completely hooked, even before the full story spilled out. Zayn launched into his tale about the girl, the one who seemed like she could burn down the world and leave it smiling in ashes. Hudson didn’t interrupt. He just listened. When Zayn mentioned how she’d beaten him at pool, a low chuckle escaped Hudson, but his tone was one of knowing. “She beat you fair and square?” Hudson quirked an eyebrow. Zayn’s description of her as a "mermaid with tattoos and a devil smile" had Hudson shaking his head, grinning wider. “Dude, you’ve got it bad. Sounds like you’re in deep.” Hudson was half-joking, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes, an understanding. He couldn’t exactly blame Zayn. Hudson knew better than anyone that certain women had the power to ensnare a guy without him even realising it. Zayn's sister had Hudson hooked unbeknownst to Zayn. But then, Zayn flipped the script on him, and Hudson felt the sting of his words. Hudson threw a sarcastic smile Zayn’s way. “At least my hand knows what it needs to do. Dare I say it's better than some girls that's been on it before." Hudson wasn’t backing down. He had changed. “I’m not boring, man,” Hudson said, his voice steady, almost playful, but there was an underlying confidence in his words that couldn’t be ignored. He shrugged, letting his eyes flick over to Zayn for just a second before continuing. “I’m just not sleeping with every girl I meet like I used to." He could see Zayn trying to process that, probably waiting for him to crack or follow up with some half-assed excuse. But Hudson wasn’t done yet. “I still have my fun, though,” he added, his smirk widening, the words rolling off his tongue like a dare. “Just a little more... low-key, you know? No more wild, reckless nights that end with me waking up with a hangover and a girl I can’t remember.” Hudson leaned back, tossing his drink in his hand as the smirk on his face turned devilish. He’d been waiting for the right moment to drop it, and Zayn was giving him the perfect setup. “You know who I thought looked really hot the other night?” Hudson’s voice was smooth, casual, but there was a wicked edge to it. “Your mom. Mrs. Sharma. God damn.” He let that hang in the air for a second. Hudson’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the chaos he’d just unleashed.

[zaynsharma]

he leaned closer to him, arms resting on the table. “fair and square, i couldn’t concentrate — i’m the worst pool player, but she was using all her charms to make me miss every single shot, i swear,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “i’m not deep, i just don’t know where i am,” he mused, leaning back with a sigh. “she’s not easy to read, she told me i’m fun to play with,” he added, “she gets what she wants and she destroys anyone who gets in the way.” when zayn joked about his hand, he laughed. “better than some girls? are you that good? i feel like you’ve been at home too many nights, you’re getting delusional,” he teased, a smirk in his voice. it was obvious he’d changed — not in a bad way; he wasn’t the same hudson from a couple years ago, zayn could tell. he listened to his friend; hudson hadn’t been as wild as before, but he still had fun, still went out and made out with cute girls — most nights didn’t end in his bed, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy himself. at the remark about his mom, zayn’s eyes went wide. “take that back, asshole — ew, how can you even say that about my mom?” he snapped, shaking his head. “that’s disgusting. take it back, everett,” he warned, pointing a finger. “say it now or i’ll kick your tattooed ass,” he added playfully. “and stay away from anyone with sharma as their last name, got it?”

[saffron-evangaline]

Saffron didn’t need to try to be anything—she just was. Dangerous in heels, with a smile that promised either sin or destruction (usually both), she moved like she had the whole damn room wrapped around her little finger. She tilted her head, a slow, amused smirk playing on her lips. “Good,” she purred. “Other guys bore me easily. You, though…” she trailed off deliberately, eyes raking over him with interest that was just believable enough to burn, “…you’re fun to play with.” Then came that little whisper of warning from him. About how she needed to tone it down or he’d end up in the ER. Her grin widened, slow and wicked. “Baby,” she murmured, stepping just close enough to let her perfume cloud his thoughts, “you’re already halfway there. But if you’re lucky…” She leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “…I might kiss whatever hurts better." And just like that, she turned on her heel, hips swaying like she knew he was watching—because he was. They always did. When he asked if she wanted a drink, her response came with a toss of her hair and a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Sure,” she said sweetly, “but make it strong. I like my drinks the way I like my men—tall, dark, and a little reckless.” By the time he caught up with her, she was already leaning against the bar like a scene from a dream you weren’t allowed to have. She looked at him from under her lashes, playful and smug. The moment she stepped up to the bar, the bartender’s attention snapped to her like a magnet. His eyes went wide for a split second—then he was already wiping down a glass, looking to her with that mix of admiration and anticipation she got so used to. With a slow, deliberate turn, she pulled herself away from the bartender’s lingering gaze. “I got his attention,” she said smoothly, leaning in just enough to let her words brush Zayn’s ear. Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she placed her hand on his arm, her fingers trailing down it in a way that made sure he felt every second of it. “Order up before he tries to hit on me.” Her touch was soft, but her words were like a playful dare—challenging him to step up, to take what he wanted. She leaned just a little closer, letting him feel the heat of her proximity. "Show him who's boss."

[zaynsharma]

zayn had no idea what kind of spell saffron had put on him, only that it was working. his best friend’s warnings echoed faintly in his head, but the reality in front of him was louder—her confidence, the way she moved like she owned every inch of space, it was intoxicating. her words replayed in his mind: fun to play with. not fun, not charming—fun to play with. his brows lifted, half disbelief, half thrill. “fun to play with, huh? so others don’t give you what you want?” he asked, like he didn’t already know no sane person would dare deny her anything. she was blunt, dangerous, magnetic—and he was already stepping closer before he could stop himself. and then came that nickname, slipping from her lips like temptation itself. it threw him off balance, made his pulse jump. before he even had a chance to respond, she was already moving toward the bar, and he—like the idiot he knew he was becoming—followed. saffron leaned against the bar, effortlessly drawing the bartender’s gaze. hell, zayn was sure the whole room’s gravity shifted to her, and he was caught in orbit. her hand brushing his arm snapped him back into the moment, and he looked down at her, trying to breathe steady. “a strong filthy martini,” he ordered smoothly, then glanced down at her, smirk tugging his lips. “and an angel face.” the cocktail name rolled off his tongue like a secret, his tone husky, deliberate. his free hand slipped into his pocket as he leaned down, voice low just for her. “those two drinks might describe you perfectly.” then, pulling out his card, he tossed it onto the counter with easy confidence. “open a tab for me, buddy.” he wasn’t sure if he’d survive the night—but he already knew he’d let her destroy him if she wanted.

[saffron-evangaline]

Saffron arched a brow as the cue ball went flying off the table, landing somewhere with a dull thud. Her lips parted in a slow, amused smile—sharp as a blade but sweet enough to make it dangerous. She didn’t bother hiding the way she watched Zayn squirm, not even a little. “End you?” she repeated, voice rich with amusement, soft and sinfully slow, as though she was tasting the words on her tongue. “Zayn, if I wanted to end you…” She leaned in, her breath grazing his ear as her voice dipped to a whisper, “…you’d already be dead. But lucky for you, I’m feeling generous tonight.” She pulled back just enough to let her gaze drag down his chest, then back up to his eyes with a flirtatious gleam that didn’t even try to be subtle. Slowly, lazily, she walked around him and back to the table. Every step was calculated—confident, grounded, with just the right amount of sway in her hips. “Honestly?” she said, resetting the cue ball with a flick of her fingers, “I don’t think you’re bad at pool. I think you’re distracted. Which, I mean… I don’t blame you.” She glanced at him with a flash of teeth, then bent over the table again, slower this time, perfectly aware of his eyes on her. “I’ve been told I’m… difficult to ignore.” Then she straightened, walking her fingers across the edge of the table as she approached him again. Her voice softened, flirtier, almost faux-sincere. “But I appreciate the effort. Really. Most guys crumble a little faster.” She brushed past him again, deliberately slow—just enough contact to make his breath catch. Her hand slid briefly along his arm. “You’re holding up surprisingly well.” Then came the deal. Saffron gave a soft, delighted laugh. It was low, unfiltered, and it made her eyes sparkle like she’d just been handed a game far more fun than pool. “Exactly.” She tilted her head. “See? You get me already. Let’s call it a little social experiment. You… playing the doting boyfriend. Me… showing Daddy that I am, in fact, still the worst decision in the room.” Her smirk deepened. Then she leaned in, letting her voice drop again, smoky and dangerous in the best way. “So?” she called over her shoulder, cue stick in hand, hips swaying. She leaned over - putting the last pool ball into the last hole. “You in, Zayn?"

[zaynsharma]

it was easy for zayn to tell saffron was the devil in a mini skirt and heels—the way she walked, the way she talked, she was dangerous, and there was no sign of her ever wanting to change that. she owned the room and she knew it. when she confessed that if she wanted to end him, he’d already be dead, he swallowed hard—not out of fear, but because somehow, that worked for him. the way she talked was hot. everything about her was. he couldn’t look away as she swayed her hips and leaned against the table, clearly doing it on purpose. "you’re difficult to ignore, but i’ll have to blame it on my bad game," he said with a crooked smile. he didn’t know how she managed to do everything and still look like a goddess—the goddess of chaos and hotness. he had no idea how he was supposed to survive the night when every word out of her mouth was calculated, deliberate. "i won’t say i’m not like other guys, what’s the point in that?" he shrugged, breath catching as her hand slid along his arm. he was really trying not to crumble at her touch, melting like she was fire and he was just wax. and he was sure she knew it. when she laughed at his words, zayn furrowed his brows. her plan was flawless—if the goal was to get his ass kicked. if she wanted to piss off her dad? perfect. but as she lined up her shot and sank the final ball, he knew this was a fast track to the er. "i’m a man of my word," he sighed, shaking his head. "i can’t back away now." he leaned over her, arms braced on either side, body brushing hers just enough to make his point. "tone the dangerousness down, or i’ll be sent straight to the er," he whispered in her ear before pulling back, retreating to lean against the pool table with a crooked grin. "do you want a drink?"