⋆˚࿔ 𝐍𝐚𝐥𝐢 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

part 2 of everybody here wants you! ♡ brian q.

3286 words

brian didn't ask for your number. and you didn't ask for his. 

maybe you should have. 

most definitely, actually.

but something about the way the night unfolded made it feel like it would cheapen it—like putting a label on something that wasn't ready to be named. so, you let the moment end where it did, with a lingering glance at the bar’s doorway, the ghost of his touch on your cheek still warm against your skin. you walked one way, he walked the other.

brian told himself that was it. 

but later, when he finally crashed onto his bed, the scent of whiskey and faint traces of your perfume still clinging to his shirt, his mind refused to let you go. refused to let you become a figment of his imagination because you weren't. you were real. 

—

you were in his dreams. he dreamt of your hands first—soft but certain, pressing against his chest, fingertips trailing down and lower, slow but teasing. his breath hitched as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his jaw, neck, his cock, whispering things he couldn't quite make out but could feel everywhere. 

his hands were on you too—grasping, exploring, memorizing. the way you felt under his touch was unreal, or maybe too real like he had known you in another lifetime. he dreamt of your dress slipping off your shoulders, pooling around your feet, your figure was truly angelic. you looked at him then, your gaze heavy, knowing. 

“you want this?” you asked, voice nothing more than a breath. 

brian swallowed hard, his pulse pounding. “yeah. please.”

you smiled, you kissed him like you meant it, like you did the night before. like you wanted to ruin him. 

he let you. 

—

brian woke up with a sharp inhale, his body too warm, his sheets tangled around his legs. a tent in his pants. his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his mind still half-lost in the dream. the phantom feel of you still imprinted on his skin. 

“jesus…” he muttered, running a hand over his beard. he wasn't the type to let himself get caught up in a single night. wasn't the type to dream about someone he barely knew! but here he was, laying in bed with your name caught in his throat, his body aching with something unspoken. 

and worst of all? he didnt even have your damn number. 

— 

brian spent the next morning in a haze. his body was awake, but his mind was still caught up somewhere between sleep and the memory of you. the dream hadn't faded like dreams were supposed to, lost and forgotten. instead, it lingered—stubborn, vivid, replaying in the quiet moments of his day like a shitty song stuck in his head.

coffee didn't help. a shower didnt either. 

every time he closed his eyes, he saw you again—your skin against his, your lips parting just before you kissed him, the way you smiled at him in that knowing way like you had him all figured out. like you knew he’d be thinking about you right now, long after he told himself he wouldn't. 

“fuck, this is ridiculous,” he muttered. 

now, he just felt stuck. 

—

brian wasn't the type to chase after ghosts. but two nights after he saw you, he found himself back at the same bar, sitting at the same damn stool, staring at the doorway like a true idiot. he told himself that he wasn't waiting for you. that would be utterly ridiculous. he was just here for a drink, killing time before heading home. if you showed up? totally cool. if not? no big fucking deal. 

lies. all lies.

had you thought about him at all since two nights ago? had you woken up the next morning with your head full of him the way he was full of you? or had he just been some passing moment, something you left behind the minute you left the bar?

the thought alone was upsetting him. 

but then— he saw you.

and his breath fucking hitched. 

you didn’t see him right away. you walked in with a couple of friends, laughing at something, looking just as effortlessly beautiful as you had that night. maybe more. your hair was different—he noticed that immediately, and god, what did that say about him? that he had memorized you so well that he could tell what changed?

but then your eyes scanned the room, and the second they landed on him, you stilled.

your laughter faded.

he swore he saw the exact moment recognition hit.

for a second, neither of you moved. like you guys did the moment you met.

and then, without thinking, bran lifted his glass slightly, like some silent acknowledgment of whatever this was.

you hesitated. then, slowly, you excused yourself from your friends and made your way toward him.

by the time you reached him, his heart was hammering in his chest. stupid, considering he had never been the nervous type.

“you’re a fucking cliche.”

brian smirked, leaning against the bar. “classic me.”

you huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “you really came back here just hoping i’d show up?”

he took a sip of his drink, eyes never leaving yours. “seems that way. and here you are!”

you studied him for a second. you slid onto the stool next to him. “you knowww, most guys just ask for a number. it’s, like, common courtesy.”

brian exhaled, “yeah, well. guess i like to make things difficult.”

you laughed. laughed. “classic you.”

“yeah,” he admitted. “it is.”

you leaned in slightly, elbow propped on the bar, your voice dropping just enough to make his stomach tighten. “you pretend to be laid back, but really? you overthink things. you could've just asked for my number, but no—” you swayed your pointer finger in his face. he wanted to bite it. “---you just had to make it complicated. had to hope for a moment like this to happen.”

brian blinked, a slow smile spreading across his face. he looked pretty. “damn.”

“what?” 

“god, that was scarily accurate.” he huffed a quiet laugh, “alrighty then,” he said, voice a little rougher now. “if you've got me all figured out, tell me this—what am i thinking right now?”

you didnt even hesitate. you held his gaze, and said, “you wanna kiss me.”

brian didnt move for a second. because you were right. 

so fucking right, he wanted to kiss you just for saying that.

his fingers twitched against the glass. he should've played it off, should've smirked and said no, but instead, he swallowed, his eyes becoming a little shiny. “yeah,” he admitted, voice low. “i really do.”

you didnt look away. “so why don't you?”

and that was it. 

brian couldn't think anymore—he just moved. like he was having an out-of-body experience or some shit like that. one hand slid to the back of your neck, the other settling against your waist as he pulled you and that seat in. the kiss was slow at first like he wanted to make sure this wasn't one of his wet dreams again, that you were really here this time. but then—you sighed against his lips, fingers curling into his shirt, and something in him snapped.

the kiss deepened, his grip tightening, his heart pounding so hard he swore you could hear it. and just like that night at the bar, just like the dream he couldn't shake—he was lost in you all over again.

it was better than any dream. real. warm. messy in the best way. your fingers twisted into his shirt like you didnt want to let go, like you'd been thinking about this just as much as he had. 

and shit, maybe you had. 

but you weren’t going to admit that, just yet, at least.

when you finally pulled away, your lips were swollen, and brian had to fight the urge to chase after you, to steal another kiss just because he could. instead, he breathed sharply, his hand still resting against your waist, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the fabric of your shirt smooth.

“damn,” he breathed out, he ran hand through his hair, exhaling an uneven sigh, “was hoping i didn’t just imagine that.”

your eyes gleamed beneath the dim bar lights, something unreadable behind them, you leaned against the counter, fingers tracing the rim of his glass absentmindedly, “you dreamt about me, didn’t you?”

brian dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head as if that would erase the way his stomach tightened at your words, “i’m never living that down, am i?”

“not a chance in hell.”

a breath of laughter pushed past his lips, and he dropped his gaze to his drink, rolling it between his hands, “that cocky, huh?”

you inched closer slightly, voice low. “i was right, wasn’t i?”

yeah. of course you were.

but brian wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of hearing him admit it. instead, he took a slow sip of his whiskey, letting the burn settle in his chest before setting the glass back down with a quiet clink. he tilted his head slightly, watching you from beneath his lashes, his expression unreadable. “maybe,” he mused, tapping his fingers idly against the counter. “or maybe i’m just really good at wishful thinking.”

your smirk faltered for a second—just long enough for him to catch it.

this wasn’t normal. wasn’t casual.

and neither of you could pretend otherwise anymore.

you watched him carefully, then, after a moment, pulled your phone from your pocket, tapped a few times, and slid it across the bar toward him.

“go ahead,” you said, tilting your head. “make it easy this time.”

brian stared down at the screen. your contact info, already open, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

slowly, he picked it up, fingers hovering over the keyboard for half a second before typing in his name.

then, with a smile, he added:

Brian (the guy you dreamed about too)

you rolled your eyes, snatching the phone back, but he caught the way your lips twitched like you were holding back a laugh.

and for the first time in a long time, brian felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

brian couldve left it at this—end the night with your number saved in his phone, his door cracked open for whenever you wanted to spend the night. but that wasnt enough. 

he reached for his drink, downing the last sip before setting the glass aside and shifting to face you fully. “you hungry?”

you arched a brow. “are you trying to get me to go home with you?”

he laughed, a restrained amusement flickering behind those eyes. “depends. if i say ive got leftover pizza, does that make it better or worse?”

you exhaled through your nose, pretending to think it over with your finger pressed to your chin. “you got a good reheater? cant eat cold pizza.”

he pushed away from the bar, nodding toward the door. “im a man of my word. come on.”

his place wasnt far, the ride passed in a blur of headlights and quiet conversation. by the time he unlocked the door and nudged it open, the city noise faded into something softer and warm. the apartment felt super lived in. shelves were covered in figurines and comic books, real nerdy. a denim jacket thrown over the back of the couch. 

you toed off your shoes near the door, glancing around. “cozy place this is.”

brian huffed, heading towards the kitchen. “i’ll take that as a compliment?”

you laughed, watching as he pulled open the fridge and grabbed a couple of takeout containers. “couldnt take me anywhere nice…”

brian shot you a look over his shoulder, biting back a smile. “yeah, well, youre lucky im feeding you at all. second, this is a quality meal, i even splurged for the extra toppings.”

you peered over his shoulder. a pizza box sat on the counter, it was still promising. “from where?”

brian grabbed a couple of plates, stacking them one-handed. “best spot in the city. you wouldn't know it.”

you hummed, skeptical, but reached for a slice anyway. the cheese stretched as you pulled it free, and you took a bite without waiting for him to sit down. brian leaned against the counter, watching you attentively. “Well?”

you chewed, dragging it out just to mess with him. then, with an exaggerated sigh, you nodded. “pretty solid choice.”

he pressed a hand to his chest, mock relieved. “thank god!”

you rolled your eyes, grabbing another slice and making your way toward the couch. you bet brian spent a lot of time in his apartment instead of just existing between work and sleep. a couple of throw blankets were bunched up at one end of the couch, and a stack of books balanced precariously on the coffee table, with an open bag of chips and an empty glass. 

you sank into the cushions, setting your plate on your knee. “you always keep this place so clean?” brian scoffed, sitting beside you with a soda in hand. “obviously. real neat freak over here.”

you glanced at the mess, then back at him, with a smile.

he grinned, stretching his big arm (drools.) along the back of the couch. “alright, so maybe i wasnt expecting company.” you licked a bit of sauce off your thumb, giggling. “didnt think id actually come home with you?”

brian hesitated just a second too long before answering. “wasnt too sure actually.”

you leaned back against the couch, letting your head rest against his arm as you studied him. the dim glow of the TV flickered over his face, catching the thoughtful crease of his bushy brows, few of the moles across his face, and the slight part of his lips like he wanted to say more but hadnt figured out how. 

for someone who made a living out of making a fool out of himself, he looked serious now.

brian caressed your head slowly, “i guess…i guess i didnt expect it. didnt wanna jinx it or something.”

that made you smile. just a little. “supertititous now arent we?”

his gaze flickered over to yours, eyes warm. “only when it comes to things i really fucking want.”

you felt your stomach dip, slightly. he wasnt playing around now. your voice was quieter when you spoke again, “and you wanted this?”

he swallowed, his throat bobbing slightly, “a million times over, yeah i did.”

neither of you were laughing anymore. 

nothing about you two was supposed to be serious. this heavy. and yet, here you were, sitting in his apartment, your face in his hand, and it felt like you two had something other than half-drunk kissing in a shitty bar. 

you exhaled softly, “im bad at this.”

brian’s brows furrowed, he didnt think he heard you correctly. 

your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to tell him. “i dont—” you wanted to hold his hand. he laced his hand into yours. his fingers flexed beneath yours before he turned his hand palm-up, letting yours slip against it. holding. not taking. not pulling. just…holding.

“i swear i know the feeling”, he murmured. 

the words seemed to tangle on your tongue. you inhaled sharply, feeling the weight of his voice settle deep inside your chest. it wasnt just what he said—it was how he said it. like he had been carrying the same ache, the same want, the same fear of reaching too far only to find nothing waiting on the othr side. that was how his love life seemed to go until he met you a few nights ago.

your fingers flexed against his, pressing, testing the waters. he let you. he let you take what you needed, hell, he would give you anything you wanted. and god, he was so real. not just a face in a bar. not just a man you made out with. but this. a man sitting in front of you, giving you his hand when you needed it most. 

“you think i do this all the time?” you said, fragile in a way you werent usually used to being. “yeah, maybe ive been with people before. but one thing is, i dont do this.” your thumb traced over the back of his hand. “i dont know how to do this—how to want someone this much and not screw it up.”

his breath caught. 

his hand flexed in yours, and he laughed, quietly. “i don't want to mess this up either,” he admitted, almost to himself. his eyes met yours again, desperate and honest. “i don't wanna rush this, believe me, don't want to do something that makes you walk out that door and never look back. but i also know that i dont want to sit here and not want you.” he let out a rough breath, fingers tightening against yours. “and i dont want this to be just another night. i cant—wont—let it just be that.”

you never heard him sound like this before. unsure. raw.

your fingers curled against his jaw, “it doesnt have to be like that, brian.” you said. “you dont have to wonder if this is juat a moment. if this disappears when the sun comes up,” your voice trembled but you kept going. “i feel it too, brian. and i dont want to let that go.”

then, barely above a whisper, he said, “ya mean that?”

you nodded, brushing your lips over his, slow and careful, sealing a promise between the two of you, “you never have to wonder, not with me.” the second those words left your lips, he closed the space between you, capturing your mouth in a kiss that sent heat spilling down your spine. it made your lungs burn because neither of you wanted to break away.

his hands moved, slowly and deliberately, tracing your back, your waist, pulling you onto his lap. your fingers slid into his hair, tangling in the dark strands, holding on like you needed him to keep you steady, which you did. he moaned softly against your lips, the sound reverberating through your chest, and you felt yourself buck into him.

the kiss turned hungrier, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, his hands gripping tighter at your hips, guiding, pressing, feeling. heat curled low in your stomach, pooling, spreading, and when you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, he chased after you—like he couldn’t bear the space, like he needed you closer, always closer.

“brian,” you murmured, voice barely there, drowned out by the sound of your breaths mingling, by the quiet hum of the city beyond the apartment walls.

his name on your lips wrecked him. you saw it in the way his eyes darkened, in the way his grip tightened like he was grounding himself in you.

he didn’t speak, just shifted, hands sliding beneath your thighs, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. a small gasp left you, but you wrapped yourself around him instinctively, your arms locking around his shoulders as he carried you down the hall. his lips never left you—pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck, setting fire to every inch of skin he touched.

the bedroom door pushed open, the room dimly lit by the glow from the city outside. he lowered you onto the bed, following close behind, his weight settling over you in a way that felt inevitable. like you were always meant to be right here, tangled in each other, with nothing between you but want and warmth and the promise of something neither of you could name—but both of you could feel.

everybody here wants you! ♡ brian q.

2288 words ! all fluff

you had come here with friends, but the moment you saw him in the bar, it seemed like everything shifted, narrowing until all that remained was brian. he was leaning against the counter, fingers curled around a sweating glass of whiskey, eyes half-lidded as he listened to something his friend was saying. but then—like some cosmic pull, almost destiny—he looked up right at you. and you, for all your careful walls and well-practiced indifference, felt something unspool inside your chest.

the neon glow of the bar lights flickered over his profile, casting warm amber hues across his beautiful face. then, the smirk. slow and lazy, like he knew that you noticed it too. you blinked, willing yourself to look away, but it was already too late. 

he lifted his drink slightly, a silent acknowledgment to you. your fingers tightened. you weren't the type to fall into this—meeting some random guy at a bar, scratch that, you guys haven't even talked, and the possibility of taking him home. but there was something about him, something about the way he looked at you like he knew exactly how this night could go. 

“i was starting to think you were just gonna keep staring at me all night,” he said as he moved towards you. you met his eyes, “and here i thought you enjoyed the attention?” you retorted.

his smirk deepened, his ring tapping against the warm glass. “oh, i do.” he took a slow sip, watching you over the rim. “especially when it's from girls i meet at the bar.” 

you scoffed. “that a line you use often?” he huffed a small laugh, shaking his head as he set his drink down. “i don't know what you mean by lines.”

you narrowed your eyes slightly. “right. Because you just happen to say things like that on instinct.” he gave a half-shrug, tilting his finger against the bar. “what can i say? im just better at conversation than half the guys here.” 

“and yet, somehow, that isn't very convincing.” his smile twitched wider as you said that. “you saying you don’t believe me?” 

“i’m saying you have a look about you,” you mused, tilting your head as if you were actually about to consider it. “like you know how to get exactly what you want when you want it.” his gaze flicked over you, slow and assessing before settling back on your eyes. “and what if i do? what if i know what i want? what’s so bad about that?” 

you didn't answer right away, you just held his gaze, let the moment settle, let the weight of something unspoken between the two of you simmer. because the thing was—you knew that look. knew the way people must've gravitated towards him, how he probably had conversations like this all the time, he knew how to get his way like the back of his hand, and that made you unsure, but intrigued, to say the least. 

but that wasn’t what this was, was it? there was a pull here, something warmer, slower, than what you have ever experienced with guys. you let out a quiet breath, shaking your head slightly. “then i think you’re going to have a hard time with me” you said just loud enough for him to hear over the sounds of the bar. 

brian hummed, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his glass as he considered that. “ya think so?” 

“oh, i know so.”

he exhaled a laugh through his nose, something rich and warm, and then—without breaking his eyes from you—slid his drink aside and leaned in just a fraction closer. close enough that you could catch the scent of whiskey, the faintest hint of something that you could gather from this stranger that just made him him.

“guess i’ll have to stick around to see, then,” he commented. you could’ve laughed it off. could have turned away, minutes ago, and let this be nothing more than a passing exchange in a dimly lit bar. you could have been one of the hundreds of people he could’ve chosen to flirt with tonight

but you didn't. instead, you just tilted your head, and let the smallest smile ghost the corner of your lips. 

“i guess you will.” and now he was looking at you like he wasn't so sure what to do with that. not in a way that suggested hesitation—no, there wasn't anything hesitant about the way brian looked at you. it was more like he was settling into the moment, waiting to see where this could go without forcing it. you then wondered if he was always like this, if his charm was always this effortless, or if it was the whiskey speaking, or both. it could be both, you thought to yourself. 

“you don't seem like someone who just hangs around,” you mused. brian quirked a brow. “no?” you shook your head. “you strike me as the type to lose interest quickly, to not call the morning after. if something isn't fun and loose, isn't exciting, you move on.”

his lips pressed together like he was fighting back a smirk like you had caught onto something. but then, after a moment, he tilted his head slightly. “you think i’m here because i’m looking for excitement?”

“well, isn't that the point of the bar, friend?” you said. brian exhaled a small chuckle, running his tongue over his teeth in thought. he didn’t answer right away–just let this gaze sweep over you to what felt like the 10th time tonight. you didn't mind it though. 

“maybe,” he admitted, voice softer now. he raised his hands in defense, “not in the way you might think though.” you arched a brow, “no?”

he shook his head, then leaned in just enough for his voice to dip a little lower, the sound curling warm in your chest. “if i wanted something to come to me easily, i wouldn't be standing here still

he shook his head, then leaned in just enough for his voice to dip a little lower, the sound curling warm in your chest. “if i wanted something to come to me easily, i wouldn't be standing here still talking to you. i would've gone through maybe 3 girls by now,” he said. he was lying, but he just couldn't resist.

you weren't naive. you knew how this game worked. there was always something just on the edge of moments like this—something that could either dissolve just as quickly as it formed or stretch out, slow and lingering, until you didn't know how you got there until you did just now. 

but brian didn't rush. he just waited, watching you, letting the weight of his words settle.

damn him and his stupid look on his face. 

if all he wanted was something fleeting, he would have moved on by now. and, quite frankly, you would have done the same. 

“you gonna make me work for it?” he said as his fingers idly tapped against the bar top. your lips curled at the edges, “what fun would it be if i didn't make you work for it?” that finally pulled a full laugh from him, low and warm, something that sank underneath your skin in a way you weren't quite ready to admit. he shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. 

“i like you,” he said, voice easy and sure. it was such a simple thing, but it settled in your chest, deeper than it should have. you exhaled slowly, “then i guess you should stick around and see where this goes.” 

“yeah, i guess i should,” he murmured, eyes never leaving yours. he was looking at you like he had all the time in the world like he was unbothered by the noise surrounding the two of you, the way people passed and laughed and spilled their conversations into the sweaty air. 

like you were the only thing here in this whole damn place worth paying attention to. 

“you always do this?” you asked, keeping your voice light despite the way your pulse thrummed loudly at your throat. he raised a brow, chuckling. “do what?” 

“this whole thing.” you gestured vaguely between the two of you. “finding someone across a bar, making them feel like they're the only one in the room.” his smile didn't falter, but there was something behind it that was unreadable. “is that how i make you feel?”

you inhaled softly, yes. 

because he truly did. 

yes, he did. 

and the worst part was that you weren't sure he was even trying. you licked your pink lips, looking away briefly as if breaking eye contact could lessen the tension threading through you like a burning fire. “you didn't answer my question.” you said.

brian shook his head slightly. “if i did this all the time, i wouldn't still be here, now would i?” the answer was simple. uncomplicated.

he was still here. and that meant something. 

“you ever notice how people always want things that they can't have” you blinked at the sudden shift i conversation. “i mean—” he exhaled, he seemed like he didn't want to admit this. “you ever feel like the more someone pulls away, the more people want them?”

you thought about it. about how some people were like stars—how they seemed untouchable and a thing of wonder in a crowd. meant to be admired but never held. then you thought about brian. the way people watched him when they passed by you two. the way they probably only wanted him in pieces, just enough to say they had him but never enough to know him. never really loved him. and you thought to yourself—maybe he was tired of that. 

maybe he was asking if you were going to be the same. you held his gaze, searching for whatever was underneath him, that ease, the way he carried himself when he was with you. “i think people mistake distance for mystery,” you said finally. “they think if they chase something hard enough, it’ll let them in.”

his expression didn't change, “and what about you” he asked. “what about me?”

he tilted his head, mimicking the way you do it each time. “are you the type to chase?”

no, you weren't. you werent the type to beg for someones attention, to run after something fleeting just for the thrill of it. that’s what you say to yourself when you want some peace for the night. and you weren't sure if he expected you to. 

so, you just exhaled, slow and measured, before shaking your head. “no,” you simply said. his lips twitched like that was the answer he’d been waiting for. “good,” he murmured, almost relieved. 

brian’s fingers tapped idly against his glass, his gaze still fixed on you—not in the way most people stared when they wanted something, all hunger, and urgency. no, this was something else. something slower, something patient.

he was taking his sweet time with you, and he enjoyed that for what felt like the first time he’d ever experienced something like this. he knew he had to keep you.

you wet your lips, glancing down at his hand, the way his fingers curled against the wood of the bar. “why is that a good thing, hmm?” you asked, voice softer now, more curious than challenging.

je huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly, but there was no humor in it. “because i don’t think I’d like it if you did.”

your brows furrowed, not quite understanding him. “if you were the type to chase,” he clarified, his face catching the dim light. “then this wouldn't feel real.” the words hit you and you understood. like brian said, people always wanted things they couldn't have. but brian—maybe he was tired of being a thing to be wanted, something to be reached for but never held.

and you–maybe you didn't want to be another person who tried to take pieces of him just because you had the power to. the bar had faded into nothing by now, just into hums of conversations and distant music. you let out a small breath, “and what do you want this to feel like?” brian considered this. “i don't know just yet,” he admitted. “but i know i don't want it to feel like something normal and casual if that makes sense” he smiled softly. 

he was right—this didn't feel like every other night. 

you hadn't planned on this. on him. on being drawn to someone in a way that felt like a slow dance. he leaned in, catching the scent of whiskey and something else on him, maybe pine, like late nights and something easy. “i was serious when i said i liked you,” he said. “not in a way people say it just to say it. i mean, i like you.”

it wasn't a line. it wasn't a trick either. it was just the plain and simple truth at this point. 

and for some reason, you believed him. 

you didn't pull away and instead,

you closed the space between the two of you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that felt more like a confession than anything you could have said out loud. it wasn't rushed; it was sweet and slow, almost reverent, as if neither of you wanted to break away, afraid it would slip away like sand through your fingers. his hand found its place on your waist, pulling you just a little closer, his touch tentative but sure. you felt the warmth of him, the scent of him—you found it. 

whiskey, pine, and candles ??? he smelt good, that's all that mattered. 

he pulled away first, breathless but smiling. “that felt right.” he chuckled as he touched your face. you nodded, still processing the way your heart was running at impossible speeds, the way your world had changed just enough to make everything feel like it had meaning.

 “yeah, it really did.”