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paarksunghoon · 9 months ago

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FIXED COMFORT | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you.

or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much.

NOTES: idk I just feel like someone should let him sleep for six months straight!!!

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.4K (4444 exactly—she’s a shortie).

WARNINGS: fluff on fluff on fluff.

***

“Hey, do you think you could come get Sunghoon from the bar? He’s been asking for you for the past hour.”

Jay’s phone call pulls you out from a deep slumber on a Saturday night that falls on a day with no plans other than pure relaxation. Sunghoon had been preoccupied with work and classes this past week and wanted to unwind by drinking at his favorite bar with his closest friends and all you wanted to do was sleep the weekend away.

Since the two of you started dating six months ago after being friends for a little over two years, you both agree on the notion that you’ve found a good balance between time spent together and apart respectively. Nothing fundamentally changed with the exception of kissing and touching one another in the way a couple would. He still respects your independence and you respect his time away from you as well.

Sunghoon learned quickly that you’re the type of person who values your alone time more than anything else. When he first started developing feelings for you, grappling with your absence wasn’t easy. He initially thought you weren’t interested in getting to know him the way he was with you because you weren’t afraid to decline invitations and telling people ‘no.’ Slowly, over the course of many months of pining and late night conversations, did Sunghoon learn that you’re typically your best self after a moment of isolation.

Your boyfriend is somewhere in between an introvert and extrovert. He tends to be shy when he meets people he isn’t familiar with while his loud, rambunctious attitude is typically reserved for those who know him best. He likes to keep to himself for the most part, giving some of his personality away when he feels his walls start to crumble naturally. You love that he has a good head on his shoulders and that he’s able to tell you about his feelings while maintaining an air of confidence. He doesn’t inherently need anybody; he likes your company and will do anything to keep it.

Moments like this are when your heart feels softer for Sunghoon than when the two of you were just friends.

“I know you wanted to spend the weekend alone but Hoon’s been saying your name all night,” Jay says. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re sure Jay can hear your brittle voice. “Are you guys at the bar near your place?”

“That’s the one. Thanks again and I’m really sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t sweat it. Cook me something next week if you still feel bad.”

“I can do that. Chili oil noodles with shrimp sound good?”

“It’s almost like you know me.” He laughs at your sarcasm.

“Drive safe.”

When Jay hangs up, you allow yourself a few minutes to adjust and wake up, stretching your body from the warm comfort of your blankets. You change out of Sunghoon’s shirt to put on pajama pants and another one of his stolen shirts, opting not to take a jacket since you figure you won’t be out for very long.

You thank your past self for filling up your gas tank before tonight after having put it off for a few days. Knowing Sunghoon, he would still scold you for allowing yourself to run nearly empty before filling it up even if he was inebriated. Somehow, knowing this about him brings a smile to your face.

Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who likes to have some control over certain things. He likes order and structure, often waking up at the same hour every weekday to build a routine his body can remember. He’s been like that since you first met him but you think it’s part of his charm. Even from two years ago, when you met him through Jake Sim, Sunghoon has maintained a level of confidence and control that he does now. On the heels of an impressive skating career before pivoting to focus on higher education, Sunghoon had his preferences and will stick by them.

His discipline is the first thing you noticed when you met him for the first time. Jay, someone you were already familiar with, agreed to cook dinner with your friend group under the condition that everyone helped him shop and chip in for the meal. Sunghoon held Jake back from buying unnecessary things like boxed chocolate milk and candy because Jay had desserts back at his place. He held a checklist of items whereas the rest of your friends ran up and down the aisles without thinking much about what needed to be purchased.

Sunghoon’s near-meticulous behavior is juxtaposed to your chaotic and rambunctious nature. You often follow your gut instead of setting a solid plan because you’re not concerned with meeting deadlines, sans education. Whereas you tend to lean towards a go-with-the-flow attitude, Sunghoon is the opposite. But that’s something he loves about you.

At a surface level distinction, it didn’t seem like the two of you would get along as well as you did. It surprised Jake when Sunghoon asked for your number so he could text you about seeing a comedy film with him as no one else in the group wanted to see it. Including you at an impromptu study session with him (Sunghoon was organized and neat while your pens were spread all over and your study methods, haphazard) felt like watching two people clash.

Rather, you and Sunghoon complement one another.

The idea of letting himself go with someone who wasn’t part of his friend collective was unheard of. Getting to know a girl who didn’t share similar lifestyles didn’t appeal to him before meeting you, and you’re inarguably the most chaotic person Sunghoon knows. But he finds that there’s order within your chaos—you know who you are and what you want, and you will not compromise yourself just to please other people.

It’s what Sunghoon loves the most about you. There’s a boundary you never let anyone cross under the assumption that your own safety net feels compromised. He’s watched you lose friends for this same reason and has always admired the way you carry yourself like you know you deserve better than people who disrespect you. He’s witnessed the grace you maintain when people who call you a friend voice words of kindness but speak ill about you behind your back. If anything, Sunghoon feels pity for anyone who crosses you to the point of anger. To be envious of another’s confidence is one thing. To make that known is another.

Sunghoon learns that you let your inhibitions go because holding control over yourself feels like a burden. It feels like setting a standard you will never be able to meet. He never thought of order in that way before getting to know you. Your approach to life sparked a new wave of emotions within him to the point where he was open and willing to let you farther into his life.

His days were ruled by guidelines he had to maintain and proper etiquette that followed him even off the rink. The poise he carried from his career on the ice bled into his personal life too. Although, he doesn’t mind that it does. Sunghoon values any form of structure because it makes him feel like he has a purpose and that there’s something to be accomplished at the end of the day.

Most times, Sunghoon’s feels like people judge him for his regimen and can’t fathom why he appreciates control so much. They tell him to let loose and enjoy his time away from his career. People always think he simply doesn’t know how to have fun because he’s set in his ways and won’t let other people coax him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. But not you. Sunghoon has never felt like you‘ve judged how he chooses to live his life.

Before he knew it, a year had passed and he started to call you one of his best friends. The friendship was gradual. Sunghoon didn’t have many close female friends in the way he does with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. You’re the first person since ending his career who hasn’t tried to pry into the why. In fact, Sunghoon enjoys that you didn’t bring it up.

(You did, in the form of cooing over his younger self skating in competitions for the first time or roasting all of the outfits he had to wear. But somehow, all of your jabs made him feel happier than when people complimented his performance.)

Eventually, being around you felt too right. He loved it when you took naps on his bed and felt comfortable raiding your kitchen pantry without permission. Sunghoon could leave you in his apartment without him being in it and feel at ease. In fact, he started to look forward to coming home to you. All it took was seeing you wear his hoodie because you got too cold and forgot your jacket, to make him drop his bag by the front door and ask you to be his girlfriend. He hasn’t regretted anything with you since.

The weather is cold outside since it’s approaching the middle of autumn. You let your car warm up and blast the heat all the way up while adjusting your defrosting settings before heading to the bar to pick up Sunghoon. You sift through your playlists and settle on soft indie melodies before you drive away from the curb.

You’ve never seen Sunghoon get drunk to the point of needing extra help. Usually, you’re the one who goes a little too hard whenever Heeseung brings out the alcohol or if Jake offers an edible or two. Sunghoon likes to sit back and stay sober (or sober up by the end of the night) when he notices you having too much fun. He doesn’t mind, though. Sunghoon likes taking care of you because sometimes it gives him purpose. You’ve never understood that sentiment but to each their own.

The only times you’ve seen him completely wasted are usually when you’re equally as gone, like on your first road trip as a couple. The five of you rented a lakehouse a few hours from Seoul and spent an entire weekend basking under the hot sun and chose to forget about university stress before finals would inevitably kick everyone’s ass. All five of you were cross-faded (but not without Jay and Sunghoon both prepping water bottles and snacks for when the munchies would hit prior to taking anything). You watched Sunghoon relax to the point where he was much quieter than he normally was and when you asked if he was doing alright, he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you for the first time.

I always have, I think, he said as he brought your hand to his chest. You might not believe me because neither of us are sober but I swear I’ll tell you in the morning.

Sunghoon gets affectionate when he’s drunk or high, often to the point of asking for reassurance. The rational side of his brain is temporarily disfigured. You don’t mind being there to tell him that he’s the love of your life and you’d never go anywhere when he gets like this. Although, you’re usually just as gone and gush all of your hidden emotionally-charged feelings, which pair well with Sunghoon’s need for validation sometimes.

Your friends love your relationship. They don’t think it’s too much or too little, going so far as to take photos of the two of you when you aren’t looking. Some are funny like the pictures of you sleeping on his chest with drool pooling out of your mouth. Others are romantic and whimsical, like the pictures of Sunghoon looking at you like you’re the sunshine to his moonlight. They can’t get enough of you two. Your friends love knowing people they care about are deeply in love with one another and your relationship is somewhat of a reminder that true romance does exist.

Thinking about this makes your heart swell as you park your car and tuck your keys inside your purse. The bouncer checks your ID and lets you inside the bar, and you already spot Jay off to the side.

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he gives you a loose hug. “And sorry for waking you up.”

You wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ve probably woken you up for worse.”

“Yeah, like the time you and Jake wanted ramen at 3am and wouldn’t stop calling me because both of you got a little too high.”

“Can you blame us?! You were like, two blocks away.”

“Yeah, but did you need to eat with me?”

“Duh. You’re like, the best person to eat a late night dinner with.”

The two of you laugh as he leads you to the group. You see Sunghoon slumped over the table with his head in his arms and the rest of your friend group tries really hard not to seem too excited when they see you standing next to Jay.

“Fucking finally.” Heeseung stands and gives you a quick side hug before Jake does the same. “Love you guys and all but he started to become unbearable when he kept showing us photos of you.”

Jake snorts. “Poor guy was almost about to cry.” That makes your heart soft.

“He looks so cute,” you coo, tilting your head to savor this moment. It’s abnormal for you to be the sober one but you’re starting to understand why Sunghoon doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this.

Jay comes to stand next to you. “He’s not cute when he drank half his weight in alcohol and wouldn’t shut up about how pretty your hair is.”

“What, do you don’t think my hair’s pretty?” The messy, unbrushed hair is enough to make the guys laugh.

“Nah seriously, thanks for coming,” says Jake. “We felt bad calling you but he refuses to get out of his seat.”

“It’s fine.” You wave him off and step closer to your boyfriend, who still hasn’t moved from his position.

“Do your thing and we’ll be here if you need help bringing him to the car.” Heeseung smiles gratefully at you.

Even the back of Sunghoon’s head is unfairly gorgeous. His hair always looks nice, although you credit that to his younger sister introducing him to a world of hair care products during his skating years. It feels soft to the touch as you stroke the back of his head until Sunghoon slowly comes to. You feel his body start to stir.

“Baby,” you say quietly, bending down until you’re next to him. “Wake up for me.”

“Hm?” Sunghoon mumbles from his arms. He feels the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair and pulls himself from the table, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth before realizing you’re standing next to him. “Y/N?”

“I’m right here.”

He pulls his head up until he’s sitting upright in the booth, squinting up at you to adjust to the bar lights that disappeared when he closed his eyes. Your boyfriend looks so innocent like this. He looks at you with a wide, round gaze as if you’d appeared out of thin air and he’s trying his hardest to figure out how you’re standing in front of him.

“Is it really you?” Sunghoon asks in a quiet voice. His tone makes your heart flutter and you reach your arms out until you’re cupping his jaw and rubbing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks. Sunghoon melts into your touch and you feel his body start to relax. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bug. Did you have fun tonight?”

He nods in your hands, “Mhm. Just tired now.”

“Jay said you were asking for me.”

“I always ask for you.” Your cheeks heat up and you try to ignore the snickers from behind you.

“Why don’t we go back to my place, yeah? You can sleep in my bed instead of this bar.”

“Can we? I love the guys but I just missed you.”

“Simp,” Heeseung whispers before coughing into his fist.

Sunghoon stands from the booth once you’ve taken a step back to give him the space to move. He’s surprisingly able to stand on his own and clutches onto his jacket as he makes his way to the door.

“Sorry guys,” he mutters to the guys.

“Yah, it’s fine,” Jay says as he waves Sunghoon off.

“Get home safe,” Heeseung says as he opens the door for the two of you. Sunghoon waves behind him until you guide him to the car.

“Can you put your jacket on for me?” You catch it in your hands after he nearly let them fall from his grasp.

“Shit, sorry.” You watch Sunghoon put on one arm and then the other. He looks so childlike in this moment as he concentrates his hardest to put the jacket on without stumbling.

It reminds you that he doesn’t show you this side of him often. Sunghoon, ever the poised individual who likes to know what’s ahead of him, has let his inhibitions down. Seeing his figure slowly push his body through the warm fabric has you biting back a smile.

“Need help?”

Sunghoon looks down at his hands that are trying to zip his jacket up to no avail. He feels like his hands are too big and the zipper is too small. “Please.”

Your steady fingers cover Sunghoon’s and take over the tedious task. The metal is warm from his fingertips. You can feel him looking down at you and you temporarily fumble with the zipper, which makes him laugh.

“Silly,” he mutters. “Ah, fuck. I don’t know if I can open the door.”

You roll your eyes and open it for him. “You’re funny.”

He slides into the seat as gracefully as he can without hitting his head on the roof. Sunghoon struggles, but manages to buckle himself in and grins up at you when he hears the click of the buckle. When you look down on him, the lamp post from above casts a soft glow on his face. He looks so youthful at this moment. Sunghoon has let go of his thoughts and couldn’t think about anything but the present moment even if he tried.

He waits for you and mumbles about how cold it is when you turn the engine on. The warm air starts to uplift his spirits and he looks at you with us head pressed to the headrest.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“What?” you ask. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Usually I’m the one taking care of you.”

“You don’t always have to be brave, you know.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He reaches out to envelope your hand in his and squeezes it until he’s holding it loosely in the quiet of the evening.

“I love you.”

Your heart blooms. “I love you right back.” He seems satisfied with your response and lets go of your hand so that you can drive back to your apartment.

When you park on the curb, Sunghoon’s sober enough to unbuckle his seatbelt and wait for you to turn the engine off before opening his door carefully. He steps outside and leans back on the car door until you walk around the hood of the vehicle and grabs your hands to pull you into him.

You feel his lips on your before you register what’s happening. He tastes faintly of pineapple soju and beer, and his mouth is warm. Despite his inebriated state, Sunghoon’s able to hold you between his hands as he moves to place them on your hips to balance your body after you’ve stumbled into him.

The kiss itself is slow. In fact, it feels as though Sunghoon has slowed time around so that the two of you could enjoy the late night kiss uninterrupted. You can barely hear anything besides the ringing in your ears after being caught by surprise due to your boyfriend’s abrupt movements. Your mouths move in slow tandem and Sunghoon nearly pushes his tongue inside your mouth before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

“My baby,” he whispers against your lips before giving you another quick peck.

“You are so cute.” You blurt out this confession like you’re still pining after him. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

The apartment is warm compared to the environment outside and Sunghoon slips off his shoes in favor of wearing his designated slippers. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time he does so, letting you pull him into the hallway until the two of you reach your bedroom. The hardwood floors feel better than the uneven pavement from outside.

He loves it here. It’s a sanctuary away from his apartment with the friends he will probably invite to his wedding. But something about your green comforter and hand-painted artwork adorning your walls makes Sunghoon feel like he would live by your side for the rest of his life. The scent of your room–warm peaches and vanilla–tugs at his heart strings. This is where he belongs.

Likewise, you love seeing Sunghoon behave like this. It’s not commonplace for him to let people take care of him in the way you are now. He’s used to people looking out for his career and best interest but he struggles with allowing others to handle him with such care. After a decade of enduring harsh criticism and physical endurance, Sunghoon struggles to relax and allow others to take the reins. It’s partially why he loves taking care of you. Being able to provide that kind of love and support makes him feel wanted and needed, even if you tell him he’s more than enough a thousand times over.

You leave him in your room to change his clothes taken from his designated drawer while you prepare skincare and the works. You hear him shuffle outside and fall onto the bed once, prompting you to hold your laughter in as you wash your hands and pull out hair clips for him to use.

“I can’t lie,” Sunghoon says as you emerge from the bathroom to see him in a big t-shirt and pajama bottoms, “I’m really looking forward to you doing my skincare.”

You snicker and pull your desk chair into the bathroom. “Now you know exactly how I feel every time I beg you to do mine when I’m drunk. Sit and close your eyes, please.”

He follows your instructions and leans his back against the furniture. Sunghoon doesn’t fuss when you pin his hair back until it’s secure and allows you to make him feel pampered in a way he typically wouldn’t.

“Did you have fun tonight?”

Sunghoon hums. “Yeah, I did. The guys picked me up from my place and we had lunch at that seafood spot we’ve been meaning to try.”

“Was it any good?”

“So good.” He licks his lips. “God, I’m still thinking about that shellfish soup. We ordered enough food to feed a village but it was so worth it. I wanna go with you.”

“We can go wherever you want.” He smiles at your soft tone.

“We also went to the beach and met some guys at the skate park by the highway. They were pretty nice and let us use their boards for a little. Heeseung got along with them the best, I think.”

“Heeseung makes friends with everybody.”

“He says he’s not social but that’s a lie.” Sunghoon twitches his nose when he feels a damp washcloth on his face. “We went to the bar afterwards and split it by round. I got the first and honestly, I don’t remember much after that.”

“How are you feeling now, though?” you ask as you finish patting his skin dry. “Do you still feel dizzy?” Sunghoon opens his eyes and watches you apply a serum before dabbing it all over his face.

“Not as much as before. I think I’m just tired.”

“And clingy, apparently.”

Sunghoon smacks the back of your thighs. “Shut up. You love it.” You silence him by kissing his nose.

While he brushes his teeth, you situate yourself underneath your plush covers and allow the weight of the blanket to fall on top of you. The sweet promise of a good night’s rest feels imminent, especially when you see your boyfriend emerge from the bathroom. He turns off the light and walks towards the empty side of the bed before he’s slipping himself beside you.

Sunghoon’s an equal opportunist when it comes to sleeping positions. He loves it the most when your head is on his chest and when your arms are tangled in one another because he likes knowing that the two of you yearn for each other equally. But when he gets like this, Sunghoon takes initiative to maneuver himself until half of his chest and head are on top of you. He situates his arm around your waist and pulls himself closer to your body until a deep, satisfied sigh comes from the back of his throat.

He hums in appreciation when your fingers begin to massage his scalp. Sunghoon’s hair is soft and silky and on most days, you’re the only person who gets to touch it. The slowness of your movements paired with the soft kiss you place on his temple makes his eyelids feel heavy.

“Sorry you had to come pick me up,” Sunghoon mumbles against you. “I know we agreed to give each other some space this weekend.”

“You should know by now that I’d do anything for you.” He feels you kiss the crown of his head. “Plus, we both know you’d do the same for me.”

Sunghoon nods. “I would. You’re my girlfriend. Duh.” His sleepy nonsense makes you laugh.

“You can go back to hanging out with the guys tomorrow if you want.” He shakes his head.

“I want to get breakfast with you.” Sunghoon finds your free hand and presses a sleepy kiss to the back of it.

“Whatever you want. We can get breakfast.”

“If we wake up early enough.”

You laugh again. “Yes, if we wake up early enough.”

Sunghoon mumbles a few incoherent words that you can’t quite make out because of your own tiredness. When your own eyes start to droop, Sunghoon feels your fingers start to falter and looks up at you to see you’ve fallen fast asleep.

He kisses the underside of your chin and falls asleep too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

#enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #kpop x reader #enha x reader #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon #my writing*

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reidsworld · 11 months ago

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Baby Fever

Summary: Max gets a case of baby fever after seeing you with his nephew. Based on this request.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!Teammate!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.1k

Mars speaks… Thank you so much for the request, I’m a Max girlie through and through so I loved writing this. I hope I was able to meet your expectations!

Masterlist

The race weekend was in full swing, and the paddock was buzzing with energy. You were sitting on a bench near the Red Bull garage, Max’s nephew, Luka, perched on your lap. The little boy was a bundle of excitement, his tiny hands gripping the steering wheel of a toy car as he made vroom-vroom noises, completely engrossed in his make-believe race.

“You’re getting really good at this, Luka,” you said with a warm smile, watching as he zoomed the car around imaginary curves.

Luka beamed up at you, his blue eyes—so much like his uncle’s—shining with pride. “When I grow up, I’m gonna be a race car driver, just like you and Uncle Max!”

You chuckled, ruffling his soft brown hair. “I don’t doubt it. You’ve got racing in your blood.”

Max stood a few feet away, leaning against the wall of the garage, his heart swelling as he watched the interaction. He’d always been close to his nephew, but seeing you with Luka stirred something deep inside him. There was a softness in your eyes, a gentle warmth in your voice, and it hit Max with a wave of emotion he hadn’t expected.

He could picture it so clearly—a future where you weren’t just his teammate, or even just his girlfriend, but the mother of his children. The thought filled him with a longing he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.

Luka looked up at you with wide eyes, clearly adoring the attention you were giving him. “Will you come to my races when I’m a big racer?” he asked, his small voice full of hope.

“Of course,” you replied without hesitation, leaning in conspiratorially. “I’ll be your biggest fan. And I bet Uncle Max will be there too, cheering you on.”

Max’s heart clenched at your words, a sudden rush of affection surging through him. He’d always been focused on racing, on winning, on pushing himself to be the best. But now, watching you with Luka, all he could think about was a different kind of victory—a life filled with love, laughter, and family.

You looked up and caught Max’s gaze, noticing the way he was staring at you. There was something different in his expression, something deeper. “What’s on your mind?” you asked softly, tilting your head in curiosity.

Max pushed off the wall and walked over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Just thinking about how good you are with him,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “He’s a great kid. It’s easy.”

“Yeah,” Max murmured, his gaze dropping to Luka, who was now focused on driving his toy car across your lap. “But it’s more than that. You’re… you’re amazing with him— not just him, kids have always been drawn to you. And it makes me think about… about the future.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you realised what he was saying. The look in his eyes, the emotion in his voice— it was all so clear now. “Max…”

He reached out and took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I want that with you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “A family. Kids. I didn’t realise how much I wanted it until now.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the weight of his words settling into your heart. “I want that too,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “More than anything.”

Luka, oblivious to the emotional moment between you and Max, suddenly looked up with a big grin. “Uncle Max, can I race with you one day?”

Max blinked, a laugh escaping him as he was pulled back to the present. “We’ll see, buddy. But for now, how about we get some ice cream?”

Luka’s eyes lit up, and he jumped off your lap, grabbing Max’s hand. “Ice cream!”

Max smiled down at his nephew before turning back to you, his eyes soft. “Come on, let’s all go.”

As the three of you made your way to the paddock’s hospitality area, Max felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. This was what he wanted—moments like these, filled with love and happiness, with you by his side.

Later, as you sat together at a table, Luca happily devouring his ice cream, Carlos Sainz and Daniel Ricciardo wandered over, spotting the three of you.

“Well, well, well,” Daniel drawled, a smirk on his face. “What’s this? Max Verstappen, the babysitter? Or should I say, dad-in-training?”

Max rolled his eyes, but the fondness in his expression was undeniable. “Funny, Ricciardo,” he said, though he couldn’t resist glancing over at you and Luca.

Carlos leaned in, catching the way Max’s eyes softened. “No, but seriously, Max. You’ve got that look in your eyes. You thinking of adding ‘dad’ to your list of titles?”

Max shrugged, trying to play it cool, but failing miserably. “She’s always been amazing with kids,” he admitted. “I guess I’m just now realizing it,” he said as he reached over and grabbed your hand.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, sharing an amused look with Daniel. “Wow. Mad Max, finally softening up. Who would’ve thought?”

Daniel shook his head, feigning disbelief. “This is wild. First, he’s all about winning races, and now he’s over here daydreaming about diaper changes. What’s next, Max? Minivans?”

Max shot them both a look, but it lacked any real heat. “Keep talking, and I’ll make sure to remind you of this when you’re the ones dealing with baby fever.”

Carlos clapped Max on the back, unable to resist a laugh. “Hey, I’m just saying—who knew you’d be the first of us to get hit with it this hard? You’re practically picking out baby names over there.”

Max’s gaze drifted back to you and Luca, who was now blissfully covered in chocolate ice cream. He couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. Daniel let out a low whistle. “Man, I’ve never seen you like this. Totally whipped.”

You reached out to wipe Luca’s face with a napkin, glancing over at Max and the other drivers with a knowing smile. “You guys really aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

Carlos grinned. “Not a chance.”

Max shook his head, but there was no denying the contentment in his eyes as he watched you. “Nah, but I wouldn’t change a thing.”

As the teasing continued, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement for the future. With Max by your side, you knew whatever came next would be just as thrilling as any race.

Mars speaks... (again) If you wish to be added to my taglist for max or anyone else that I write for, please feel free to ask! Thank you for reading and have a great day. Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x female reader #mv1 x reader #mv1 #carlos sainz #daniel ricciardo #driver!reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #fluff #fanfiction #request #reidsworld #max verstappen fanfiction

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elleaitch22 · 11 days ago

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Terms of Endearment

Chapter 16: Someone to be Chosen

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: Our girls are back! Please leave comments, reviews, or live reactions! Mostly fluffy family dynamics! I hope y’all love it!! xx Elle

Warnings: Mentions of emotional abuse, PTSD, effects of gaslighting, self-deprecation, elements of dom/sub

Word Count: 6.7k words

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Paige woke up with a smile. She woke up with a smile on her face for the first time in forever, and it was all because of Azzi Fudd.

They had another date. This one planned by Azzi. One she made sure Soleil was included in. “I just want to make sure she’s okay with everything before we get any deeper.”

They had their second date on a Tuesday afternoon, too excited to wait for the weekend.

It started with Paige picking Soleil up from school instead of Azzi.

“Mommy!” She squealed. “What are you doing hewe?”

Paige laughed warmly, “Me and Azzi wanted to surprise you with a family day.” She said, scooping her baby into her arms.

Lei gasped. “Does that mean Azzi is in ouw family?” She beamed when the woman nodded to her. “Like my othew mommy? I get two mommies?!” Her body vibrated with excitement.

Paige knew that her answer would break Soleil’s heart. “Maybe we can talk about it at lunch or dinner.” She paused at her pout. “Don’t make that face, Lei. She’s still in our family.” She pressed a kiss to her nose. “Come on, Azzi’s waiting for us in the car.”

“Azzi! Hi, Azzi!” Soleil shouted, climbing into her car seat. She fastened the top while Paige clicked the bottom straps into place.

Azzi turns to the back seat with a wide grin. “Hi Sunny Girl! Did you have a good day today?” She asked.

“I haved a good day, but it’s gonna me the best day because Mommy said we have family day today!” Soleil bounced in her seat.

“That’s so good, Lei! Do you wanna know what we’re gonna do today?” Azzi started. Soleil’s ponytails bounced as she nodded, “First, we’re going to go to my house to eat lunch, then we’re going to go paint, and then we’re going to go to the aquarium!” She spoke excitedly.

Soleil’s big blue eyes were bright with joy and anticipation. “Auntie Nika took me to the quawum one time! We saw the fishies!”

“You think you’re going to like our family day, Soleil?” Paige asked from the front seat.

The little girl was filled with energy, but that didn’t matter. As soon as Paige pulled onto the highway, Soleil was knocked out.

“It’s good that she’s taking a nap. Even though it’ll only be 45 minutes, it’ll help her be less cranky.” Azzi said, looking at the girl warmly.

A large hand landed on Azzi’s thigh, and while the skin to skin was nowhere near erotic, it still made her warm.

She turned her head back to the woman driving. Her jawline was still as perfect and sharp as the day Azzi met her. She was dressed casually in a pair of black cargos and a 90s style graphic tee. Her hair was down, natural waves flowing gently, and Azzi decided she really liked her hair like this. It made her look younger, softer somehow.

“You’re staring at me, Princess.” The blonde said, with a smirk on her face.

Azzi felt her cheeks darken. “You’re one of the prettiest people I’ve ever seen, Paige. Of course I’m staring.” She turned to look at the window instead. If she couldn’t admire her girlfriend’s beauty, she’d admire all the trees blurring as the rode.

Paige didn’t say anything, but at the next stoplight, Azzi could feel like heavy gaze of her eyes. She started at Azzi’s neck before looking at the skin of her bare shoulders. She’d only had on a cropped pink tank top and a pair of short overalls that were intentionally splatter painted. Azzi wanted her outfit to be symbolic of the fun they would have on their date. As Paige’s eyes reached the expanse of Azzi’s thick thighs and long legs, her thumb started to brush light circles into the tanned skin.

“You’re so sweet to me, Azzi.”

The praise hit her right in her chest. She didn’t think anyone had called her sweet since she was in elementary school. It was confusing, rewiring how she thought about herself, but if Paige kept saying things like that, her whole brain was going to end up rewired.

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As they rode the elevator to Azzi’s apartment, she hid a smirk.

Paige wanted to order food for lunch, “If I have the money, it doesn’t make sense to just buy the food, Az.”

“Eating home cooked meals is healthier. There’s less sodium, chemicals, and the food is properly seasoned.” Azzi paused and went in for the winning point. “I just don’t want Soleil to eat all those chemicals in processed food.”

She had already seen Paige hesitating, but the point about Soleil was the nail in the coffin. She almost giggled as how easy it was to make her girlfriend (!!) fold.

The blonde rubbed Soleil on her back, trying to wake her up as they walked down the hallway.

“WAIT!” Azzi exclaimed when they got to her door.

Paige stiffened, “What?” She said calmly, voice tight.

“You can’t come in yet! Give me ten seconds. Literally, just count to ten.” She scrambled inside and shut the door behind her, not even giving Paige a chance to follow her in.

Soleil’s head popped up, “Why is Azzi acting cwazy, Mommy?”

Before Paige could answer her question, the door swung open.

Azzi was holding two bouquets. The bigger one had pink and yellow roses, blue iris, and orchids, and the smaller was just sunflowers.

“Azzi got us flowews, Mommy!” Soleil wiggled until Paige put her down. “Thank you for the flowews Azzi!”

The brunette handed her the bouquet, “I got you sunflowers because you’re my Sunny Girl.” She grinned.

Soleil held her flowers proudly as she marched into the apartment.

“I’ve never been given flowers by a partner before.” Paige said, quietly.

Azzi’s smile softened, “Well, I think you should always get flowers. I’ll get them whenever I can.” She said softly.

“So, what’s my bouquet symbolize?” The older woman smirked, stepping close to her girlfriend.

“Appreciation.” A kiss on the cheek. “Affection.” A kiss on the other. “Trust.” A firm, but short peck on the lips. “Thank you for finding me, Paige.”

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The lobby of Color Me Mine was filled with the shrieks and giggles of a happy girl as Azzi and Paige swung her in the air.

“Welcome to Color Me Mine, what can I get started for you today?” The young girl at the register smiled.

Before either adult could respond, soleil had gotten on her tippy toes. “I wanna paint some cups fow my mommy and Azzi. And they gonna paint a cup fow me!” Her voice was filled with anticipation.

The girl’s smile faltered, looking at the women. “Um,” She started, eyes panicked.

“That’s fine, Lei. Just remember even though we paint them today, we can’t take them home until next week.” Paige reminded her.

The cashier breathed out a sign of relief. “Okay, so the studio fee will be six dollars for the child and ten dollars for two adults,” She mumbled as she hit a few buttons on the screen. “Once you go to the wall and pick your pieces, I can ring you up and get you guys started,” She smiled at the trio.

Soleil was already off, browsing the rows of mugs like an art critic. She silently pulled a plain unicorn into her hands, inspecting it before handing it to Paige. “For Mommy.” She said seriously, still looking at the other dishes. Her lips twitched at the sight of a mug with little indented hearts covering the outside. “For Azzi.”

Azzi and Paige both chose the mug they wanted Soleil to paint for them before deciding to customize another dish for each other. The brunette chose a big bowl that would be more aesthetically pleasing than the fruit bowl sitting on the counter at the penthouse. Paige decided on one of those big plates. Something that you could put on a coffee table or on display on a kitchen counter.

They carried the plain pieces back to the register. And when the girl said, “That’ll be 176 please,” Azzi had tapped her phone to the tablet before Paige could even pull her phone out.

The woman glared at her girlfriend, “Why would you do that, Azzi. We’re on a date.”

Azzi had never seen someone glare as prettily as Paige Bueckers did. Instead of a snarl or a grimace that made her fearful, Paige’s expression was kind of cute. Her brows pinched together a little, her eyes were laser focused, and her mouth was opened just a little.

“Yeah, but it’s my date. I planned it, so I pay for it.” She smiled; cheeks pink from her thoughts.

She turned away from the counter and gripped Soleil’s hand. “Come on, Lei Lei! Let’s pick a table.”

Five minutes later, Paige was no less upset. “Paige,” Azzi was met with a grunt and no eye contact. “Come on, P. Are you really mad at me?”

Blue eyes met brown before rolling. “We agreed to let me take care of you.” She huffed. “I thought that was the conclusion we arrived at last week.”

“You are taking care of me, Paige,” Azzi smiled softly. “It’s the only reason I could pay for this date.”

Soleil’s head popped up from the abstract painting she was creating, “What’s a date?”

Azzi shook her head. This was all Paige’s domain. “A date is when two people who want to get to know each other better spend time together.” She rose from her seat and nodded to the next table. The two women walked over so Soleil wouldn’t hear the rest of their conversation. “I don’t like you paying for things. If I’m taking care of everything, that includes everything.”

“So, what?” Azzi started, brows furrowed and nose scrunched. “If I want to do something nice for you, I have to ask permission first?” She glared.

“I gave you my black card, Azzi. You’re an authorized user.” Paige answered, bewildered. “I know I initially did it because you had to buy stuff for Soleil, but you’re my girl now.”

Azzi’s head went back like she’d just been slapped. “What does that have to do with anything?” She scoffed.

“I don’t want you to be in the same situation again.” Paige paused. “If you feel like you need to leave, if you want to leave, you should be able to. If you decide you aren’t happy here with us, with me, I need you to be able to leave and be okay financially.” She breathed deeply. “So, I need you to save your money. Keep your checks, just in case.”

Azzi’s whole body drooped like a wilted flower. “You think I’d just leave?”

“No, no, no, Azzi.” Paige said, leaning across the table to grab her hand. “I don’t think you’d ever leave, but I don’t know the future. I might end up doing something or you may just decide that this isn’t the life you want anymore. Which is valid. I just want to make sure you will be fine, even if you leave.”

The brunette nodded, understanding her girlfriend a little more. “But I need to pay for things I planned. It makes me feel…dirty. If I use your movie to buy something for you, it’ll feel make me feel like I’m just using you for money.”

“I hear what you’re saying, Azzi. So, if you pay for the dates you plan, will you let me pay for everything else?”

Azzi knew this was probably the best offer, so she just nodded her head.

“Thank you,” Paige breathed out, relaxing.

The rest of the painting date is filled with soft teasing, messy hands, and never ending giggles.

“Come on, Paige. Everyone knows that unicorns have rainbow hair, not just pink and purple.” Azzi smirked.

“Are you really just doing a plain, boring pattern, Azzi?” Paige questioned after Azzi’s second row of patterned hearts.

Azzi helped Soleil paint little smiley faces all over the mug the girl had created for her mom, while the younger woman begged the older to leave Soleil’s mug for her alone. She didn’t want anything extra added to the vase Soleil had spent so much time crafting.

The bowl Azzi made for Paige was going to be beautiful after it came out of the kiln. The patterns were clean, but the lilac shade added an element of ‘Paige’. Paige’s creation was yellows, golds, and neutrals. The piece would look good wherever Azzi decided to put it.

Most people would have hated a date where they spent two hours painting dishes with their significant other’s child, but to Azzi, there was no other place she’d rather be.

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The aquarium went much better than their painting date. Paige watched with a smirk as Azzi paid for the tickets, then they were off.

The moving walkway was in a tunnel showing aquatic life swimming above them.

They let Soleil lead their excursion, and. She wanted to stop at each sign, and she asked one of the women to read each one.

“Azzi, that’s so cool that ottews hold hands so they don’t go away in the night!” Her nose was pressed against the glass. “I want to be with the ottews when I gwowed up!”

Then she paused and looked to the woman. “Can we hold hands when you sleep at Mommy’s house? She questioned.

“Of course, Sunny Girl.” She smiled brightly at the girl.

The next plaque to read for penguins was. Azzi looked at Paige as she read all of the facts about the birds. She was bathed in a blue hue from the water. Soleil was perched on her shoulder, too show to see inside the pod. She was such a good mother. As much as she worked, it was clear the two were obsessed with each other.

They drifted off to the coral reef exhibit where there was a touch pool. Soleil immediately darted over, excited to touch some of the animals she had been learning about.

“Can I touch the stawfish, Azzi?” She questioned nervously.

Azzi held the girls hand in hers, slowly guiding her to brush against the animal lightly. “We just have to be gentle, Sunny. They’re alive, just like us!”

Soleil’s tongue peeked out of her mouth as she focused on using her most gentle hands, not wanting to hurt the animal.

Like Azzi had done in the penguin room, Paige stood back and watched them. She smiled at how natural they looked, with Azzi kneeling next to Soleil, her hand guiding her daughter’s. Their comfort with each other wasn’t forced. It was natural.

They lingered a while, moving slow. Azzi didn’t rush Soleil, and Soleil didn’t seem to feel the need to bounce between tanks like she usually did. Paige wondered if this was how it would always feel. Like a shared rhythm.

In the jellyfish room, they all spoke in whispers, as if they’d entered a cathedral.

The tanks glowed like something from a dream; soft pinks, electric purples, tendrils swayed in time with the current. Soleil pressed her palm flat to the glass and let out a little gasp as Paige read the plaque.

“They don’t even have bones,” she breathed.

Azzi, beside her, murmured, “They don’t have hearts either.”

Soleil turned to her, eyebrows pinched. “Then how do they love?”

Azzi smiled. “Maybe they love with their light.”

That earned a small, reverent silence. Paige let it settle over her like a warm wave.

Then Soleil turned, eyes lighting up. “I wanna hold youw hands now. Both of you.”

Without hesitation, she reached up, sliding her small fingers into both of theirs. Paige looked down and saw Azzi’s thumb brush gently across Soleil’s knuckles. Their eyes met, just for a moment, and Paige couldn’t tell if the flicker in her chest was joy or yearning.

They passed into the oceanarium where the tank stretched stories high. A beluga swam slowly past, its pale body moving like a cloud underwater. Soleil pressed close to the glass, then turned to whisper, “That one’s my favorite.”

“Mine too,” Paige said. “She looks like she’s dancing.”

“Azzi,” Soleil said seriously, tugging at her hand. “You have to pick your favorite too.”

Azzi hummed, thoughtful. “I think I like the sea turtles. They’re slow, but they always get where they’re going.”

Soleil seemed satisfied by that. “You’re like a turtle.”

Azzi blinked. “Oh?”

“Because you’we safe. Like a shell.” Soleil didn’t even look up, just said it and turned back to the tank.

Azzi stared at her a moment longer, then swallowed and blinked fast. Paige reached out and laced their fingers together where Soleil couldn’t see. Just for a second. Just to say, I heard that too.

They wandered through the rest of the galleries slowly, drawn to glowing tanks and colorful fish. Soleil was getting quieter now, all her energy sinking beneath the surface. When they passed a small cart selling stuffed animals, she tugged at Paige’s shirt and pointed at a sea otter plush.

“That one,” she whispered. “So it doesn’t float away.”

Azzi handed over her card before Paige could say anything. “We’ll tie it to your wrist if we have to.”

As they made their way to the exit, Soleil holding her sea otter tight under one arm, Paige glanced sideways at Azzi. Her curls were a little frizzier now from the humidity, and there was a smear of something on her sweater, from Soleil’s snack probably.

She had never looked more beautiful.

“You okay?” Paige asked quietly as they stepped outside into the soft golden light of late afternoon.

Azzi nodded, smiling. “That was perfect. The otters, the jellyfish, the way Soleil called me her shell.”

Paige bumped their shoulders together. “You’re kind of my shell too.”

Azzi flushed, looked away, but her fingers brushed Paige’s again as they walked back toward the car.

And for just a moment, Paige let herself imagine a thousand days like this, soft, slow, full of light, and Azzi beside her for every one.

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Azzi chose a cozy restaurant for dinner. Little Wild had mismatched chairs and tables with fairy lights twinkling everywhere.

“Mommy, it’s like the staws!” Soleil turned to Azzi, eyes wide. “Aftew we leawn about the ocean, can we do staws?” She asked entranced.

She beamed when Azzi answered with a small smile and nod.

The dinner was filled with nervous energy that Soleil ignored or didn’t notice. Azzi was deep in her head, overthinking everything, so it wasn’t surprising when she stumbled over ordering her lemon thyme chicken dish.

Once the waiter brought their food out, Paige had pity on her girlfriend.

“Soleil, we wanted to talk to you about something.” She started.

The girl looked up from her bowl of macaroni and cheese, fork frozen in the air. “Am I in twouble?” She asked, eyes squinted.

“What? No,” Paige said, head jerking back. “Azzi and I have been going on dates. Spending time just the two of us because we care about each other a lot.”

Soleil’s brows raised, “Because you want to know Azzi bettew?” She questioned, referencing what Paige had told her earlier.

“Yes, Sunshine.” The blonde paused. “Is that something you would be okay with?”

The girl looked between the two of them, then beamed. “So you dating like on the tv? Like Kwistoff and Anna?”

“Sort of like with Kristoff and Anna, baby.” Azzi said, relaxing.

Soleil’s gasp, smile somehow wider, “So you get to be my other mommy!” She exclaimed.

Azzi’s entire body tightened with tension.

“Well, people date to get married, like how Anna and Kristoff couldn’t get married right when they first met.” Paige started.

At Soleil’s frown, Azzi went to hold her. “I would love that, some day. But for now, me and your mommy are still learning each other. And we’d have to talk about that together.” She paused, looking into the girl’s blue orbs. “But no matter what happens with me and your mom, no matter how we feel about each other, I’ll always be here. I’ll always love you and care about you like family.”

“But you do evewything Mommy does.” She pouted. “You bwing me fwom school. We eat lunch togethew evewy day. We do big naps on the sofa. You came in my fowt. You awe my Mama!” She cried, fat tears falling.

Azzi’s eyes widened. “I do that because I love you, Soleil. And I would love to be your Mama one day. I would love that more than anything.”

“I want you to be Mama, now!” She whined. She wiggled her way out of Azzi’s arms and into her mom’s. “Mommy!” She wailed.

Brown eyes blinked back tears. She didn’t think Soleil had ever scrambled to get away from her.

“I’m gonna take her to the restroom really quick.” Paige said, already moving.

When they got to the back of the restaurant, Paige planted her daughter on her feet and squatted in front of her. “Soleil Katheryn,” She said firmly.

“She doesn’t want to be Mama!” She sobbed.

Paige hugged her tightly. “You need to breathe, baby. Come on, Sunshine. Breathe with Mommy.”

The pair breathed deeply together, arms wound tightly around each other.

“Do you wanna tell me what made you so upset?” She asked her.

Soleil nodded into her mother’s chest before letting it all pour out. “I be a good giwl, Mommy! The goodest giwl, but she doesn’t want me!”

Paige leaned back slightly. “That’s not true, baby. Azzi loves you so much. She thinks you’re the best girl, not just a good one.” She started warmly. “Do you remember the book? Can you tell me what makes a family, Soleil?”

“Love.” She mumbled, face buried in the soft fabric.

Paige chuckled, “Yeah, Lei. Love is what makes a family. Does Azzi still love you?” She questioned.

“She said she would always love me.” She whispered.

“Right, so that means she’s already your family. Does it bother you that you don’t have two mommies?” Paige asked hesitantly.

“Well, my fwiend Jade at school have two mommies. And when we wead ouw books, you do Mommy things, but Azzi does too.” Soleil explained.

Paige nodded. So, it wasn’t anything they had done or hadn’t done. She was just jealous. The blonde breathed out a sigh of relief. That would make Azzi feel much better.

“Do you think there’s anything you should say to Azzi?” Paige questioned.

Instead of answering, Soleil gently pushed away from her mother and walked back to their table.

“I was not being kind, Azzi. I’m sowwy! I just want you to be my Mama, and I was being mean. I was just mad, but I love you.” She said sadly.

Azzi scooped the girls into her arms, lowly saying something in her ear. Whatever it was made Soleil beam with joy.

After the two reconciled, the girl was glued to the woman. She offered spoonfuls of her macaroni and cheese and bites of her chicken tenders. When dessert came out, the three of them shared an ice cream with Soleil still cuddled snuggly in the brunette’s lap.

Azzi even climbed into the back seat with Soleil, the little girl gripping the tanned hand tightly. The drive back to Aurelia was filled with a comfortable silence.

When Paige moved to help Azzi out of the back and to grab Soleil, she was greeted with her daughter asleep in her girlfriend’s arms.

“That went better than I expected,” Azzi whispered as they rode the elevator up to the 57th floor.

Paige’s eyes widened in surprise. “That went well to you? She had a meltdown.”

“Yeah. But she knows things are changing in ways that she wants, but it’s not all the way what she wants.” Azzi explained.

Paige pulled Soleil from her arms once they reached Azzi’s floor. Soleil nuzzled her head into her mom’s neck before stilling.

“I didn’t cry because she hurt my feelings.” Azzi started. “I cried because I didn’t know she felt so strongly – loved me that much. It caught me off guard, but it was a pleasant surprise.”

Paige nodded, just letting her continue as the slowly trekked down the hallway.

“I know it’s too fast. I know I’ve only know you all for a month, but it feels like it’s been a year.” She gulped. “It feels like…it feels like she could be mine. I love her enough to call her mine. I’m just –”

“Scared?” Paige interjected. “I understand. We are moving fast. But I told you I’ve never felt anything like this for anyone before. Especially not this fast.”

The women stopped walking, arriving to Azzi’s apartment. “Do you think I handled it right?” She muttered, afraid of the answer.

“Yeah. It feels right, but you’re trying to protect her heart by pacing it. She knows you love her, and that’s the only thing that matters.”

The blonde leaned down to kiss her forehead. Then her cheeks. Then her nose. Then her lips.

“Thank you for making today perfect.” She said, foreheads touching. “I’ll see you Saturday for the gala, yeah?” Paige finished.

Azzi was in a bit of a daze as she nodded. She could definitely get used to doing this for the rest of her life.

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Azzi fussed with her curls once more before going out to look in her full-length mirror.

Her hair was pinned up in a purposefully messy updo with a few pieces left down to frame her face nicely. Her makeup was soft and dewy with slight hints of pink on her cheeks and eyelids. Her dress was something beautiful, a silky dress Paige had sent up that afternoon. It had a high cowl neckline and an open back. There was a slit that went high on her thigh. It showcased her long, strong legs until ending on her gold heels. She wore dainty gold earrings and a gorgeous tennis bracelet.

It was the first gala she’d gotten ready for where she didn’t hear Grant’s voice in her head. She didn’t know if that had to do with the checklists she’d been doing with Paige, the affirmations on her bathroom mirror, or being Paige’s real girlfriend this time, but she wasn’t going to complain.

She smiled at the knock on her door. She was met with a bouquet of light pink peonies bigger than her head.

“Thank you, Paigey.” She smiled, taking the flowers to put them in water.

She looked back absentmindedly and stumbled. Paige looked amazing. She wore pink suede loafers that coordinated with her caramel-colored suit perfectly. There was a silk, ivory shirt that was perfectly tucked into her pants. The twisted gold chain shined in the overhead light, just like the gold huggies and diamond studs in her ears. But the best part was her hair. It was down for once. The gentle waves softened her look. She was perfect.

Azzi didn’t remember putting the flowers in water or getting in the elevator, but before she knew it, she smelled sandalwood and bergamot. Paige was buckling her in. Which was weird, she usually had Morgan drive to galas and events.

“You wanted to drive tonight?” She asked, confusion evident on her face.

Paige smirked, “I only use a driver when I need distance. This is real now; we don’t need any extra eyes.” She finished, placing her hand on her thigh.

Azzi didn’t know if she loved or hated the split on this dress. What she did know was that the warmth that she felt on her thigh was quickly spreading.

“Why you so quiet, Az?” Paige questioned, thumb softly stroking her leg.

“It’s our first event where I’m your actual girlfriend. I’m just a little nervous.” Azzi muttered.

A warm hand gripped her face, making Azzi face her. “There is no one else I would rather have here with me. Fuck anybody else who has shit to say about it.” Azzi’s eyes dropped and Paige’s grip tightened a bit. “You belong here. You belong with me. And if I hear you say something else negative about yourself, you’ll be receiving your first punishment. Understand?”

Azzi just nodded, breath heavy, thighs pressed together. When the grip tightened again, she opened her mouth. “Yes, Paige. I understand.”

“Good,” She said, pulling her in for a steamy kiss. “Let’s go.”

The hand that was previously on her leg now rested on Azzi’s lower back as Paige guided her into the Art Institute of Chicago. She had to remind herself to focus on keeping her jaw off the floor as she looked at the displays.

She led Azzi to their table, pulling the chair out for her. “I gotta go mingle, but I’ll be back in a minute, alright?” Paige asked, planting a quick peck on her lips.

Azzi straightened as she looked at the rest of the women at the table.

“Hi, I’m Charlotte LaSalle.” She smiled brightly. “My husband is the vice chairman at Kairos.”

Azzi returned the expression. “Azzi Fudd. I’m Paige’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, we know!” A new voice interjected. “I’m Francesca Reynolds. My fiancée is Gabriella Barrett; she sits on the board of directors. Gabi said she’s never seen Paige smile that much.”

Azzi blushed, “Thank you for saying that. We weren’t sure about going public, so I really appreciate that.”

“Susan van Ellington-Brooks. What do you, Azzi?” The woman was pretty, but she looked like she had a twenty-foot pole up her ass.

She unconsciously sat ramrod straight. “Oh, I’m Paige’s daughter’s private tutor right now, but I used to teach pre-k.”

“Ah, Paige is so generous, isn’t she? She always makes such unexpected choices. And it’s so important for children to have caretakers who feel passionate, even if those roles are temporary.” Everything the woman just said was supposed to be an insult disguised as a compliment.

Azzi didn’t know what came over her before she opened her mouth. “You’re right. Working for Paige is temporary. I’ll only be tutoring her until we decide to put her in school for the full day. But I should be having a new baby by then, so there would be no point in working.” She smiled.

Charlotte and Francesca stood quickly. “We’re going to the lady’s room. We’ll be right back!” They scurried away quickly.

Susan’s petty smile turned sharper. “I think it’s so lovely when people like Paige give back to those who aren’t normally apart of this world. Those who normally wouldn’t fit in our world.”

Azzi’s brows furrowed, but before she could respond, the older woman continued.

“Paige just has such diverse taste. It’s refreshing to see her bring someone so different into our world – helping us see more than one perspective.” She finished.

Azzi disguised the way her breath caught in her throat with a smile. “Yes, well Paige has been in this world for years, and couldn’t find anyone worthy of her time or attention. So, I’ll take that as a compliment.” She stood, Paige-like smirk on her lips. “It was nice to meet you, Suzanne.”

She walked away from the table, willing her ankles not to shake. She made her way to the restroom, rushing into the handicapped stall. She leaned over the sink and let her tears fall.

A few seconds later, a knock sounded at the door.

Azzi cleared her throat. “Someone’s in here.”

“It’s me.” Paige paused. “Open the door, Princess.”

She used a paper towel to dry the water lining her eyes before opening the door.

“What happened, baby?” Paige asked, stroking her cheeks softly.

Azzi sighed, knowing Paige wasn’t going to let it go. “Somebody said that it didn’t belong – that I was just a charity case for you. And – I don’t know. I’m just putting on a show. Being at these events just shows me that I don’t belong in this world.”

“Don’t say that, Azzi.” Paige said firmly. “You belong wherever I am.”

She yanked away. “I don’t even think you mean that Paige! You bought me all these clothes. You gave me a driver. You made me move houses. You’re trying to force me to fit into your world, but at the end of the day, you know I don’t belong.” She started pacing. “And in a few months, it probably won’t even matter. You’re going to get mad; you’ll see that Grant was right about me. You’re going to see how annoying, and stupid, and worthless. Then you’re going to take Soleil, and I’ll be all alone again.”

“What did I tell you, Azzi?” Paige said, cutting off her steps and gripping her firmly, not hard, just a way to show her she wasn’t going anywhere. “What did I tell you about talking about yourself like that?”

Azzi blinked out of her self-deprecating spiral. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. She just said so many things.”

“It’s okay. I don’t care if I have to do it every day. I will remind you who you are.” She rubbed her hands up and down tanned arms. “You are enough exactly how you are. I gave you those things because you deserve the best, not because I wanted you to look a certain way.” Paige continued. “Now, we are going to go back out there, and you are going to show everyone how worthy you are. Do you understand?”

Even with Paige’s encouragement, Azzi was quiet for the rest of the night. She contributed in conversation when a question or statement was directed to her. She laughed when she heard something that was supposed to be funny.

But for the most part, she clung to Paige’s arm. So, when Azzi’s grip tightened, Paige’s alarm bells went off.

She followed Azzi’s gaze to a woman with too much filler and not enough Botox.

That bitch was the one who had said those things to Azzi.

She racked her brain for the woman’s company, relative, or spouse.

Geoffrey Brooks III. They were supposed to be signing a contract in two Wednesdays.

“I just need to talk to one more person, then we can go home. Is that okay, Azzi?” Paige questioned gently.

Azzi nodded, relief clear in her brown eyes. Until she saw where they were going. Paige’s rage grew as she felt Azzi stiffen the closer they got to the table.

“Geoffrey!” She exclaimed with faux excitement.

The older man looked up at the blonde from his seat. “Oh, honey. This is who I was telling you about! Paige is going to sign on as a backer for the company.” He smiled. “Paige, this is my wife, Susan. And this must be your lovely girlfriend! Geoffrey Brooks the Third.” He thrust his hand out for Azzi to shake.

But the squeeze on Azzi’s hip told her not to take it.

“You didn’t hear the change of plans, Geoff?” Paige asked. Faux concern dripping from her voice. “We were going to sign everything in a couple weeks, but your wife said some truly unkind things to my girlfriend. Really hurt her feelings.”

The man gaped, turning to his wife. “Susan!”

“No worries though. Azzi is so kind, so generous, so forgiving that she didn’t even want me to know that it was your wife who said anything.” Paige smiled at her girlfriend. “But I’m not.” She said, smile vanishing. “I’m pulling out. Tell your wife, thank you.”

Nobody would ever get to talk to Azzi like that and get away with it. Not even Azzi herself.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

When they got back to Aurelia, Azzi was ready to just take a shower and knock out.

But she noticed the elevator going faster than normal. “Why are we going to your place?” She questioned.

“I told you, Azzi,” Paige started, looking at her in the mirrored doors. “If you spoke poorly about yourself, you would be punished. It’s punishment time.”

The elevator doors opened, and Paige guided them both to her bedroom. She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

“Go clean up. I left some clothes for you in there.” Paige said, leaving her alone in the room.

Azzi washed up quickly, not wanting to make Paige angrier. She didn’t think Paige would ever punish her. She was always so good to her. Maybe it would be a one-time thing. If she didn’t put her hands on her, Azzi could justify staying anyway.

Her mind was racing as she thought about all of the things Paige could do to harm her.

“Let’s go.” Paige called from the bedroom.

She was standing in the bedroom in front of her mirror. She’d showered too. Her damp hair was left out. And droplets of water ran down her neck to the plain black sports bra she wore. Her toned torso was left on display. There was something quietly hot about the band of her boxers left peeking out of her sweatpants.

Paige looked like she belonged in one of those lifestyle magazines.

Azzi felt inferior in the thin, oversized t-shirt and loose boxers Paige had left for her.

“Come here.” The blonde stated. It wasn’t a request.

They stood in front of the mirror. Paige’s arms wrapped loosely around Azzi’s waist.

Paige’s voice was gentle, steady. “Look at yourself.”

Azzi tried to look away. Paige’s hand came up to cradle her jaw, holding her still — not with force, but with care.

“Eyes forward, Princess,” she said softly.

Azzi’s breath caught. Her eyes flicked up to meet Paige’s in the mirror.

Paige leaned down, her mouth brushing the shell of Azzi’s ear. “Repeat after me. Be good for me.”

Azzi nodded once.

Paige’s hand slid up from Azzi’s waist to rest lightly at her throat. Not constricting, just anchoring.

“I am not what they say I am.”

“I am not what they say I am.” Azzi repeated quietly. Paige kissed her temple.

“I am not small. I am not disposable.” The blonde said, firmly.

“I am not small. I am not disposable.” The feeling of lips on her shoulder burned through the fabric.

Paige paused, locking eyes in the mirror. “I deserve love without conditions.”

“I deserve love without conditions.” Azzi repeated shakily. A kiss to the corner of her jaw.

“I am allowed to take up space.”

“I am allowed to take up space.” Her voice was a little firmer than before. A kiss to her collarbone.

“I am not a burden. I am a gift.”

Silence.

“Say it, Azzi.”

“I am not a burden. I am a gift.” She whispered. A kiss to her spine, right between her shoulder blades.

“Again.”

“I am not a burden. I am a gift.” She said louder, like she was starting to believe it. A kiss pressed to her lower back.

“I am someone to be chosen. Over and over again.” She murmured, rising back up.

Azzi’s eyes filled with tears. “I am someone to be chosen. Over and over again.” A kiss to her neck, slow and reverent.

“I am not broken.”

“I am not—” Her voice cracked. “I’m not broken.” A kiss to her bare shoulder, gentle and lingering.

“You’re going so good, Azzi.” Breathed by her ear. “I am safe now.”

“I’m safe now.” She said, barely audible. A kiss to the crown of her head.

Paige guided her to the bed and climbed in after her. The brunette moved closer to her instinctively. Paige got comfortable behind her, one arm tucked under Azzi’s head, the other draped protectively over her waist.

“Say one more,” she whispered, breath warm against Azzi’s cheek.

Azzi blinked up at her. “What?”

Paige kissed the tip of her nose. “Say: I am yours.”

Azzi hesitated, then smiled, faint but real. “I’m yours.”

Paige kissed her slow, like a promise. “And I’m yours.”

Azzi exhaled against her skin and let herself sink fully into Paige’s arms. Wrapped up in love, and light, and finally, finally, safe.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi fics #pazzi #paige x azzi #terms of endearment

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honeyhaeya · 7 months ago

Text

🎮03 | No Feelings Involved🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: smut, strong language (profanity), explicit language, petty arguments, mention of alcohol consumption, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor, suggestive content, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, jealousy, mature themes (alcohol, party scenes), angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. smut warnings: masturbation (both f and m), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (fictional context, not ideal IRL), rough sex, degradation (really slight. f being called "slut" once), overstimulation, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom) wc: 11,087 ♪ playlist ♪ : one of the girls (the weekend, lily rose depp, jennie), love me harder (ariana grande, the weekend), toxic (britney spears), kiss it better (rihanna), don't blame me (taylor swift).

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a vivid, merciless replay of every single humiliating detail from the night before. It wasn't just a hangover—it was the full-course regret special. You'd tried so hard to push the memory of last night into the furthest corner of your mind, but it refused to budge. Instead, it danced right in front of you, mocking you with every cringe-worthy second. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkk.

Groaning, you splashed cold water onto your face, scrubbing with an almost aggressive force as though that would somehow erase your mistakes. This is why alcohol is the devil.

You'd made this promise to yourself before—swearing off drinking after every disastrous night out—but this time, you meant it. Probably. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your thoughts racing. You couldn't let this ruin you. Vulnerability was dangerous. It was messy. It made everything worse. No, you couldn't afford that—not with Jeonghan, especially not with Jeonghan. You straightened your back, glaring at your reflection as if it could fight you back. Be your fucking self, you dumb idiot. But no matter how much you mentally pep-talked yourself, there was no escaping the glaring, undeniable fact: you tried to kiss your boss last night.

What the hell was wrong with you? Even worse, you'd been so drunk that your stupid, impulsive actions had no logic behind them. You didn't even know why you did it. And now you were paying the price. When you arrived at work, Jeonghan was... off. It wasn't his usual self—the playful, teasing boss who would occasionally poke fun at you for being "too serious" or "too good" at your job. No, today he was colder. Detached. His voice was clipped, his instructions sharp and curt. "Get my coffee," he'd said that morning, handing you a slip of paper with the name of some café that you realized, to your horror, was an hour's drive away.

"Wait—this is in another city." "I know." He didn't even look up from his desk. "Be quick about it." You wanted to scream. Was this some kind of punishment? Clearly, yes. But like the professional you prided yourself on being (even though you were currently drowning in humiliation), you'd complied. You got in your car and drove, cursing yourself—and Jeonghan—the entire time. By the time you got back, it was already afternoon. You placed the coffee on his desk, glaring at it because, of course, it had long since gone cold. He didn't even glance at it. "Is there anything else you need?" you asked, keeping your tone as even as possible, though your patience was fraying like a worn thread. "No." He didn't even look at you. "Okay." You turned on your heel, jaw clenched, heart pounding with a mixture of frustration and guilt. This coldness of his—this distance—was suffocating. You wanted to apologize, but how could you when he wouldn't even give you a chance? A text wouldn't cut it. That would be way too insincere. Apologies needed to be face-to-face, with your pride laid bare. But Jeonghan wasn't letting you anywhere near his walls. The day dragged on. The tension between you two was thick enough to slice through, and every interaction felt like walking on shards of glass. You were used to his teasing, his sly remarks, even his annoying requests—but this cold, indifferent Jeonghan was something you weren't prepared for. You only had yourself to blame. By the time the clock struck 6 PM, you were ready to collapse. Still, you lingered by your desk, scrolling mindlessly through emails, hoping he'd say something—maybe even address the elephant in the room. But he never did. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. This is hell. Finally, you mustered the courage to approach his office door, knocking lightly. "Jeonghan?" "Come in," came his voice, detached as ever. You pushed the door open, stepping inside. He was seated at his desk, looking over some paperwork, his expression unreadable. "I..." you started, but your throat tightened, and the words caught. His gaze flicked up to you, sharp and expectant, and suddenly, every ounce of bravery you'd scraped together began to crumble. You swallowed hard, your palms sweating. "About last night... I—" "Don't." His voice cut through the air like a knife. Your breath hitched. "I just want to—" "Forget about it." His tone was final, the authority in his voice leaving no room for argument. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of something unspoken, something unreadable—that gave you pause. You clenched your fists, nodding stiffly. "Fine." And with that, you turned and left his office, your chest tight and your mind spinning. If he wanted to play this cold war game, then fine. Two could play at that. But deep down, you knew this was far from over.

By the time you finally got home, you wanted nothing more than to curl up under a blanket and forget the entire day. But the universe had other plans. Your phone buzzed with a message from your mom:

Mom: I sent the caretaker home early today, so I'm alone. Could you visit, dear?

You didn't hesitate. Dropping your bag by the door, you grabbed your jacket and started toward the garage. But when you saw your car keys, you frowned.

The bus schedule was unreliable at this hour, and taking the car felt like a hassle. Your gaze drifted to the motorcycle in the corner—a sleek, black machine that hadn't been touched in months. Your chest tightened. The sight of it brought back memories you weren't ready to unpack. Nights spent speeding down empty streets, trying to outrun emotions you didn't want to face. Moments of reckless abandon that had cost you more than you wanted to admit. But tonight, practicality outweighed sentiment. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your helmet and swung a leg over the bike. The engine roared to life, the sound reverberating through the quiet garage.

When you arrived at your mom's house, the familiar warmth of the porch light greeted you. It was comforting, in a way that made your chest ache. But just as you were about to head inside, your phone buzzed with another notification. Mingyu had posted something on X—formerly Twitter—and tagged you. Against your better judgment, you opened the app. There it was: a group photo from last night's event. Mingyu had captioned it, "Last night was one for the books. Kitsunya, you killed it." Killed it? You wanted to scream. If by "killed it," he meant your dignity, then sure. Perfect phrasing. As if that wasn't enough, Seungkwan had chimed in with a reply: @/pledis_boos: Killed it?? She was on another planet with all that alcohol, LMAO. Your blood pressure skyrocketed. Of course, the chaos didn't end there. Your Discord server was in shambles with nonstop teasing:

[#general] min9yu: Streaming hangover queennn ho5hi_kwon: Who's taking bets she skips streaming again?? pledis_boos: After that karaoke performance? definitely. kitsunya: i hope you all die a miserable death

You clenched your teeth, heat flooding your face. Slamming your phone shut, you muted the server before they could fire back. You were already frustrated beyond belief, and their antics weren't helping. Taking a deep breath, you shoved your phone into your pocket and turned your attention to the house. You were here for your mom, not for these idiots.

Stepping inside, the familiar scent of lavender and warm spices immediately wrapped around you. It was as though time had stopped in this house. The same photos lined the walls, the same throw blanket draped over the couch. For a moment, the weight on your shoulders lifted. "Sweetie?" your mom called from the kitchen. "Yeah, it's me!" you replied, slipping off your shoes and making your way toward her. She was seated at the kitchen table, a teapot in front of her and her usual serene smile on her face. "You didn't have to come all this way." "Of course I did," you said, leaning down to hug her. "How are you feeling?" "Better, now that you're here." Her words were simple, but they hit you hard. No matter how chaotic your life felt, being here always reminded you of what mattered most. For the first time all day, you allowed yourself to breathe. You sat down beside her, letting the conversation flow easily, her calm presence grounding you. Maybe the rest of the world could wait. For now, you were just her child, sitting at the kitchen table, finding solace in the only place that had always felt like home.

The hum of the studio buzzed around you as you took a long sip of your coffee, letting the warm bitterness steady your nerves after dealing with the overly flirtatious model. His incessant chatter had been more of a hindrance than a distraction, dragging out a task that should've taken half the time.

You needed a moment to breathe, so you leaned against the far counter, watching the set come to life as photographers, assistants, and models swarmed like bees.

Your brief peace was interrupted by the chime of your phone. A notification lit up the screen, and your heart sank as you saw it was from X. Another tag. Another random mention. You opened it, eyebrows knitting together as you read the tweet. @/kitsunya is lowkey hacking, I've watched her gameplay on her streams. Your lips pressed into a thin line, and you hesitated before clicking the attached video. It was a screen recording of someone playing League of Legends, supposedly you. The movements in the video were eerily familiar to your own, down to the champion choices and gameplay style. But something felt... off. The clip showed a flawless streak of kills and maneuvers you didn't recognize. At one point, the screen glitched, a strange overlay flashing briefly—something that screamed "hacking" to anyone who didn't know better. "That's not me," you muttered, the words a mix of disbelief and annoyance. Your fingers swiped down to the comments, and your heart sank further at the sea of responses.

- "She's so fake. always knew she was too good to be true" - "Imagine trying this hard to be relevant. Cringe." - "cancel her, wtf."

You bit the inside of your cheek, scrolling further to find a glimmer of reason among the mob.

- This doesn't even look like her gameplay. I've watched all her streams—this never happened. - "Bro, this is so edited. Look at the glitching when has she ever used a cheat?" - "She's bad at LOL sometimes, lol"

A small, bitter laugh escaped you at the last comment. The defender wasn't wrong. If anything, your League skills were average at best. Shutting your phone, you exhaled slowly. This wasn't the first time someone had tried to drag your name into some petty drama, but this? Accusations of hacking? That was new—and exhausting.

Calm. Professional. Handle it later, you told yourself. Your hands tightened around your coffee cup, knuckles whitening.

The scandal didn't disappear as quickly as you'd hoped. By the time you wrapped up at the studio, your socials were flooded. Notifications pinged relentlessly, and your Discord server wasn't any quieter. Mingyu and Seungkwan, of course, had chimed in.

[#general] min9yu: Saw the scandal. Want me to 'accidentally' leak your bad League stats? Clear your name instantly. pledis_boos: Fr tho, why would they say hacking when you literally suck at dodging skill shots kitsunya: shut up

You slammed your phone into your bag, groaning as you walked toward your parked motorcycle. Their teasing was harmless, but the noise around the whole situation was eating at you.

You didn't even realize how tense you were until your phone buzzed again—this time, a DM from Wonwoo.

everyone_woo: Saw the video. Want me to handle it?

You blinked at the message, unsure how to feel. Wonwoo wasn't exactly warm—his jokes often toed the line of annoyance—but he wasn't a liar either.

kitsunya: handle it how? everyone_woo: Show proof it's fake. Or just flame them in the server. Your pick.

You rolled your eyes. The image of Wonwoo in your server flaming trolls was ridiculous—and oddly tempting.

kitsunya: thanks, but ive got this everyone_woo: Sure. Just try not to cry about it on stream later.

You glared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard as your blood boiled.

kitsunya: fuck you, jeon.

The typing bubble popped up immediately.

everyone_woo: You wish.

You groaned, shoving your phone back into your bag as you straddled your motorcycle. The engine roared to life, drowning out your spiraling thoughts for a moment.

Focus on fixing this later, you told yourself again. But as you sped through the streets, the frustration churned in your chest, mixing with a spark of determination.

Whoever thought they could drag you down with a cheap, fake video clearly underestimated you. And if Wonwoo and the others had their way, they'd probably make sure the trolls regretted it too.

You didn't know what the next stream would bring, but one thing was clear—you weren't going to let this slide.

As the hours dragged on, the noise surrounding the scandal only grew louder. You had tried ignoring it, but your notifications were relentless. Your phone buzzed with messages from fans, haters, and even a few friends teasing you. After scrolling through the endless comments, you decided enough was enough.

Opening X, you navigated to the original post causing the uproar. The video was still playing, and the comments section was an absolute battlefield. Some were trashing you, while others valiantly defended your honor. You smirked to yourself.

With a deep breath, you typed your response. Calm, composed, with a pinch of playful sass—your signature style.

@/kitsunya: Wow, I didn't realize I got a skill boost overnight. Wish I had this kind of gameplay in real life. But hey, next time you edit, try not to glitch the screen, it's giving 'rookie hacker.' 🥰 Stay safe, everyone! 💕

You hit post and shut your phone off with a smirk. That should shut them up for now.

Later that evening, you fired up your stream. The usual intro music played, and the chat instantly exploded.

Chat: - "OMG, she's here!!! 🔥" - "HANDLE THEM!" - "say the word and we'll roast them for you!" - "So you're a 'hacker' now, huh? XD"

You leaned back in your chair, your trademark fox ears headband perched snugly on your head. "Alright, alright," you began, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Let's address the elephant in the room—or, in this case, the poorly edited League of Legends gameplay."

The chat erupted with laughter emojis.

"First of all," you continued, "if you're going to accuse someone of hacking, at least make the footage look convincing. I mean, come on! That glitch was so bad, even my grandma would've caught it. And she doesn't even know what a mouse is, okay?"

Your playful tone had the chat spamming "LOL" and "QUEEN ENERGY."—You've never really liked being called that (queen), it was a bit cringe but if that's what your fans would call you, you'll gladly let them be. Besides, they just knew how you hated it, too.

You quickly pulled up the clip in question, dissecting it for your viewers. "Look at this," you said, pointing out the glaring inconsistencies. "That's not even my interface. I use a custom overlay, so nice try, but not quite. And these moves? Yeah, I wish I was that good, but y'all know I play like a bronze-tier gremlin on most days."

- "NOT THE GREMLIN LMAOO" - "She's roasting herself and the haters at the same time 💀" - "Petition to make 'bronze-tier gremlin' a merch line."

You shrugged, smirking at the chaos you'd stirred. "Anyway, to the person who made this... next time, put some actual effort into your smear campaign. This was embarrassing—for you, not me." You ended the segment with a wink before transitioning to your usual gameplay.

Throughout the stream, you maintained your signature IDGAF attitude, brushing off the drama like dust on your shoulder. As the games went on, the chat buzzed with renewed energy, rallying behind you with jokes and support.

By the time you ended the stream, you felt lighter. The haters had nothing on you, and your fans? They reminded you why you kept doing this in the first place.

As you signed off, you left one final remark. "To anyone still doubting me, feel free to stick around. You might just learn what real gameplay looks like. And to my fans—love you guys. Kitsunya out."

With that, you clicked the end-stream button, a triumphant grin spreading across your face. Let the haters try again. They'd never win against you.

The aftermath of the "hacker" scandal didn't deter you—it only made you sharper. Your streams saw a spike in viewers, curious to witness the alleged "cheater" in action. Meanwhile, your usual gaming circle hadn't changed much, except for one small, persistent annoyance: Wonwoo.

It started innocently enough during a group stream with Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Wonwoo. You were all queued for a round of Valorant, and as the match loaded, Seungkwan's voice filled the mic.

"Alright, team, let's get this W. Kitsunya, you got my back, right?"

"Always, Boo," you replied smoothly, earning a groan from Mingyu.

"Can you two not flirt on comms?" Mingyu teased.

"Jealous, Mingyu?" you shot back. "Don't worry, you can watch and learn how it's done."

But before Mingyu could retort, Wonwoo's dry voice cut in. "Can we focus on the game instead of this middle school banter? Some of us actually want to win."

"Relax, Jeon," you quipped. "You'll still bottom frag no matter how focused you are."

The chat exploded with laughing emojis and "OOF" comments as Seungkwan cackled. "Oh my god, she really said that!"

"Funny," Wonwoo replied evenly, his tone calm but with a hint of sharpness. "At least I don't need an entire fanbase hyping me up to stay relevant."

The mood shifted slightly. Mingyu let out a low whistle, and Seungkwan muttered, "Yikes, is it getting warm in here, or is that just me?"

Your grip on your mouse tightened. "Oh, I'm sorry," you said, feigning sweetness. "Is my relevance bothering you, Jeon? Don't worry, I'm sure someone out there appreciates your minimalist personality."

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Big words for someone who spent the last week crying over an edited gameplay clip."

"Okay, timeout!" Mingyu cut in. "Can we save the passive-aggressive flirting for later? We've got a match to lose."

"I'm not flirting," you and Wonwoo said simultaneously, which only made Seungkwan laugh harder.

Chat: - "WHY DOES THIS FEEL LIKE A KDRAMA?" - "Enemies to lovers speedrun when???" - "Wonwoo is spicy tonight, ngl"

As the matches continued, the banter between you and Wonwoo escalated. When you missed a critical shot, he chimed in, "Nice aim. Were you aiming at the sky for inspiration?"

"Bold of you to assume you'd know anything about aim," you shot back after watching him miss an easy shot of his own.

Seungkwan and Mingyu had a field day moderating the chaos.

"Guys, if you kill each other, can I have your streaming setups?" Mingyu joked, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Not unless you learn how to aim first," you and Wonwoo snapped in unison, which made everyone lose it.

Chat: - "They're SO ANNOYING TO EACH OTHER I LOVE IT." - "Can someone clip this toxic energy? I'm obsessed." - "seungkwan is the only one holding this team together lol."

After the stream ended, you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. Fighting with Wonwoo was mentally exhausting, but you had to admit—your streams were a hit whenever he was around. The audience loved the dynamic, and a small part of you found it... entertaining, in a frustrating way.

Still, you were determined not to lose to him, whether it was in gameplay or banter. If Wonwoo wanted a war, you were more than ready to bring it.

Little did you know, Wonwoo was thinking the exact same thing.

Absolutely, the unresolved tension between Jeonghan and MC is still lingering in the background, simmering beneath all the chaos of gaming streams and playful (or not-so-playful) fights with Wonwoo. Here's how that thread can weave into the story while keeping it naturally integrated:

The banter between you and Wonwoo was in full swing during a round of Valorant. Jeonghan, ever the observer, stayed quiet for most of the game, only chiming in occasionally with sarcastic one-liners that set the group laughing.

However, every so often, you caught him cutting in with comments that felt pointed, though they were disguised under his usual casual tone.

For instance, when you accidentally botched a round by peeking too early, Jeonghan couldn't resist.

"You're usually so composed, Kitsunya," he remarked, voice smooth. "Guess all this stress is getting to you."

Your throat tightened for a moment, but you didn't let it show. "Or maybe it's because I'm carrying half of this team. Can't relate, though—I wouldn't know what it's like to sit back and let everyone else do the work."

Mingyu wheezed into the mic. "Oh my god, she went there."

Jeonghan only chuckled. "I must have touched a nerve. Relax, it's just a game, sweetheart."

The word hung heavy in the air, and the chat exploded.

Chat: - "sweetheart? HELLO???" - "Did anyone else feel that dagger???" - "Kitsunya is DONE WITH HIM LMAO."

You stayed professional, though your grip on your mouse tightened. "Relax? I'm so relaxed," you shot back. "It's not like I'm the one stalking people's streams to stir the pot."

The silence that followed was loud. Wonwoo laughed softly. "Alright, that was savage."

Jeonghan let out an amused hum but didn't respond directly. His lack of a comeback only added fuel to the tension.

You ended the stream with your usual closing remarks, ignoring the way your heart still raced from Jeonghan's presence. The moment you were offline, you leaned back in your chair, letting out a groan of frustration.

Why was he still getting under your skin? Why couldn't you just forget what happened? It wasn't like he'd even acknowledged it outside of these subtle, cutting moments.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. A message from Jeonghan:

Jeonghan: You've been sharper lately. Don't let it ruin your aim.

You stared at the text, unsure whether to laugh, scream, or throw your phone out the window. Instead, you settled on typing a curt reply:

You: thanks for the unsolicited advice, boss. ill try not to let your words haunt me.

You hesitated before hitting send. Was that too much? Too little? The overthinking was exhausting.

No reply came. Typical.

Jeonghan continued to act as if nothing had ever happened. He still handed you ridiculous tasks—like picking up coffee from the other side of the city—but now, there was an added layer of... something. Whether it was tension or amusement, you couldn't tell. At one point, while delivering a report to him, you accidentally brushed past his desk. The proximity made your pulse quicken. Jeonghan looked up, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "Careful," he said smoothly. "You're spilling your coffee." You glanced down, realizing you'd almost tipped the cup in your hand. "Right. My bad." His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. "You're distracted. Anything on your mind?" You shot him a glare, but it lacked your usual fire. "Nope. Just trying to make sure you get your perfectly brewed coffee without having to lift a finger." Jeonghan hummed. "Good. Keep up the hard work, sweetheart." There it was again—that word. It set your teeth on edge, but you refused to let him see how it affected you. Instead, you plastered on your best fake smile and left his office without another word.

Jeonghan reclined in his sleek office chair, the dim glow of his second monitor lighting his face as he watched the stream playing out in front of him.

Seungcheol was supposed to be live, but the man was nowhere to be seen, and instead, Jeonghan found himself once again on your stream. He didn't know how or why he ended up there, but he wasn't about to click away now—not when you were in the middle of what seemed to be an increasingly fiery exchange with Wonwoo. "You call that a headshot, Kitsunya?" Wonwoo's voice cut through the audio, calm and sharp as always. "Maybe you should stick to being a cheerleader for the team." Your scoff came out quick and biting. "And maybe you should stick to solo play since clearly you don't know what teamwork means. What are you, allergic to assists?" The chat exploded with laughter and emotes, and Jeonghan couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at his lips. You were quick, sharper than most, and he hated how entertaining it was to watch you put Wonwoo in his place. Wonwoo's response was dry, but there was a hint of amusement. "Big words for someone whose accuracy is about as consistent as Mingyu's cooking skills." "Oh, that's rich coming from the guy who got sniped by a bronze player last week," you shot back effortlessly, the grin evident in your tone. Jeonghan's jaw tightened. He should have closed the stream. He should have focused on his work. But instead, he found himself gripping the edge of his desk, irritation bubbling under the surface. Since when had you and Wonwoo gotten so... close? "Sweetheart, don't you think you're taking this roasting thing a little far?" Wonwoo said casually, the pet name clearly meant to get a rise out of you. You didn't skip a beat. "Don't call me sweetheart. I'm not your sidekick." Jeonghan's smirk vanished. He'd been calling you that for weeks now—using it as a way to get under your skin—but hearing it from Wonwoo suddenly made it feel... wrong. Why did it bother him so much?

Jeonghan sat in his office, staring blankly at the report in front of him. The words blurred together, meaningless against the din of his own thoughts. He clenched his jaw, shoving the papers aside as his mind betrayed him yet again, wandering back to the stream last night. To you and Wonwoo, bickering with that effortless chemistry that felt so... natural. Too natural.

The knock at the door startled him. He straightened, a carefully neutral expression slipping into place.

"Come in."

You entered, your movements brisk as you carried a stack of documents. "Here's the draft you asked for," you said, your tone cool.

Jeonghan's eyes lingered on you for a fraction longer than he intended. "Morning, sweetheart," he said, the words coming out smoother than he felt.

You froze for a split second before shooting him a glare. "Don't call me that."

He smirked, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. "Why not? You didn't seem to mind when Wonwoo called you that last night."

You blinked, confusion flickering in your expression before it hardened into annoyance. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he replied, his tone calm but biting.

"Jeonghan," you snapped, crossing your arms as you stared him down. "What's your problem?"

"My problem?" He tilted his head, feigning nonchalance. "I don't have one. Just an observation. You looked... comfortable with him."

The tension in the room thickened, but you didn't back down. "So what if I was? Are you keeping tabs on me now?"

His smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of something darker, something raw. "I don't need to keep tabs. It's obvious."

You stared at him, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. "Obvious?"

"You're distracted," he said, his voice softer now but no less cutting. "Is it him?"

Something inside you snapped. "If you have something to say, Jeonghan, say it. Stop with the mind games."

His expression flickered—anger, frustration, guilt?—before it settled into something unreadable. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he looked at you with a rare vulnerability. "You've changed," he murmured, almost to himself. "You're different around him."

You inhaled sharply, his words hitting deeper than you wanted to admit. "Don't act like you care," you said, your voice shaking with suppressed emotion.

His eyes darkened. "And what if I do?"

The silence that followed was deafening. You opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss. Finally, you turned on your heel, your heart pounding as you headed for the door.

"You kissed me," his voice stopped you cold, low and quiet but filled with an edge that cut through the air. "And then... you act like it meant nothing."

You froze, your hand hovering over the doorknob. When you turned back to him, your eyes were blazing. "You think I don't know that? You've been shutting me out ever since, Jeonghan. So don't you dare act like I'm the one who walked away first."

The words hung between you like a fragile thread, taut and trembling.

Jeonghan stared at you, his carefully crafted mask crumbling. "Maybe I thought it would be easier," he admitted, his voice rough. "If I pushed you away. If I let you go."

Your throat tightened, but you refused to let him see you falter. "Well, congratulations. It worked."

Before he could respond, you turned and walked out, slamming the door behind you.

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, his head tipping back as he stared at the ceiling. His chest felt heavy, his thoughts a mess of regret and longing.

What the hell am I doing?

He was the one crossing that barrier, when he has been pushing you away on the past few weeks. Over and over again.

The week had been chaotic, as usual. Between balancing work, streams, and trying to ignore the mess of emotions that had been haunting you since that damn drunken kiss incident with Jeonghan, you barely had time to breathe. Friday rolled around, and you were finally looking forward to a weekend of peace—just you, your PC, and maybe a new game to dive into.

That was the plan, at least, until Seungcheol called you earlier that week.

Monday

"Hey," his voice was casual, but you could hear the grin behind it. "I'm throwing a party this weekend. Just a small thing, you know, close friends and streamers. You in?" You hesitated, already knowing what your answer would be. "Thanks for the invite, Seungcheol, but I've got plans this weekend. Sorry." "Come on," he replied smoothly. "It's been a while since we all hung out. You could use a little break, don't you think?" "No can do," you said firmly, giving a polite laugh to soften the rejection. "But have fun." He didn't push further, just chuckled and left it at that. You thought that would be the end of it. You thought wrong.

That should've been the end of it.

It wasn't.

By the time Wednesday came around, Seungkwan and Hoshi had picked up the torch where Seungcheol had left off.

Wednesday

The VC comms were alive with chatter as you queued up for another Overwatch match.

"Okay, but seriously," Seungkwan's voice broke through the din, incredulous and a little too loud in your headset. "Why aren't you coming to the party?"

"Yeah," Hoshi chimed in, just as exasperated. "What's so important that you're ditching us?"

You groaned, adjusting your mic as you loaded into the game. "I told you. I have plans."

"Plans to do what? Sit at home?" Seungkwan asked, disbelief coloring every word.

"And what's wrong with that?" you shot back, your tone clipped as you lined up a headshot on an enemy.

"It's antisocial, that's what," Hoshi said, as though he'd just diagnosed you with some grave illness.

"You're turning into Wonwoo," Seungkwan added, laughing.

"Leave me out of this," Wonwoo's voice cut in dryly, though you could hear the faintest hint of amusement.

"Listen," you interrupted, your patience thinning. "I've already said no, like, a million times. Can we drop it?"

But they didn't drop it. Of course, they didn't.

Thursday

By the next evening, their campaign of peer pressure had reached ridiculous heights.

You were halfway through a stream, your chat buzzing with energy, when Seungkwan's voice came through the VC again.

"Alright, hear me out," he began, his tone taking on that wheedling edge that set your teeth on edge. "What if we make a deal?"

"No," you said flatly, sniping an enemy with practiced precision.

"You didn't even hear the deal!" Hoshi whined, sounding genuinely offended.

"I don't need to," you retorted, eyes locked on the game. "The answer's still no."

"Okay, fine," Seungkwan said dramatically, as though he were deeply wounded. "Then I guess we'll just spend the whole party talking about how lame you are for not showing up."

"Seriously?" you muttered, incredulous.

"And maybe," Hoshi chimed in, "we'll tell everyone about that time you ulted yourself into a wall."

"Will you shut the fuck up?" you snapped, finally losing your cool.

"Fine," Seungkwan relented eventually, though the grin in his tone was unmistakable. "But we're not done with you yet."

In the middle of your stream that evening, as you queued for an Overwatch match, their voices rang out over the VC comms. "Okay, but like, seriously, why aren't you coming to the party?" Seungkwan started, his tone incredulous. "Yeah, what's so important that you're ditching us?" Hoshi chimed in, sounding equally offended. You groaned, adjusting your headset as you focused on loading into the game. "I told you, I have plans." "Plans to do what? Sit at home and stream?" Seungkwan pressed. "And what's wrong with that?" you shot back, your tone clipped. "It's antisocial, that's what," Hoshi said. "You're turning into Wonwoo." "Hey, leave me out of this," Wonwoo's voice cut in from the other side of the comms, calm but with a hint of annoyance. "Listen," you interrupted, trying to steer the conversation away. "I've already said no, like, a million times. Can we drop it?" But they wouldn't let up.

Thursday Night By the next night, their persistence had reached new heights. As you streamed another late-night session of Overwatch, the VC comms lit up once again with Seungkwan and Hoshi's relentless chatter. "Okay, hear me out," Seungkwan started, his voice taking on a wheedling tone. "What if we make a deal?" "Absolutely not," you replied instantly, sniping an enemy on-screen with precision. "You didn't even hear the deal," Hoshi whined. "Don't need to," you said, eyes locked on the game. "The answer's still no." "Fine," Seungkwan said dramatically. "Then I guess we'll just spend the whole party talking about how lame you are for not showing up." "Seriously?" you muttered, your tone dripping with disbelief. "And maybe we'll tell everyone about that one time you accidentally ulted yourself into a wall," Hoshi added with a snicker. "Will you two *shut the fuck up*?" you snapped, your patience wearing thin. "It's been three fucking days of this. Take a hint." The chat lit up with laughter and emotes as your viewers enjoyed the chaos.

Chat Highlights: - "LMAOOO THEY'RE SO RELENTLESS 💀" - "Poor Kitsunya can't catch a break." - "I stan the peer pressure."

"Fine, fine," Seungkwan said finally, though his tone suggested he wasn't done. But for the rest of the night, they managed to keep the nagging to a minimum—at least, until the match ended.

Friday Morning

You woke up to your phone vibrating on your nightstand.

[#general] - 8:13 AM pledis_boos: [image attached of your Overwatch avatar] Look at this, Hoshi. Doesn't this remind you of someone? ho5hi_kwon: Yeah, someone who doesn't know how to have fun. pledis_boos: Right??? ho5hi_kwon: Definitely not naming names though.

You groaned, burying your face in your pillow before tossing your phone aside.

DM from [fuckass bitch dickhead] - 8:30 AM Wonwoo: You're coming to the party, right?

You blinked at the screen, caught completely off guard. Wonwoo never texted first unless it was something gaming-related or directly relevant to a stream.

You: why do you care?

It took him a full minute to reply, which in Wonwoo time meant he was probably rolling his eyes at your response

Wonwoo: I don't. Just figured someone should ask before Seungkwan harasses you into blocking him. You: hes not that bad Wonwoo: Don't lie to yourself. I heard him last night practically begging you to show up. It was embarrassing. For you. You: why are you bringing this up anyway? didnt peg you as the party type. Wonwoo: I'm not

You waited, watching the three dots pop up, disappear, and then pop up again before his next message finally came through.

Wonwoo: I just think it'd be funny watching you try to survive a party without gamer brain kicking in. Bet you'd get the itch to stream mid-conversation and ditch. You: are you serious right now? Wonwoo: Completely. You: wonwoo i swear to god Wonwoo: What? Did I hit a nerve? Can't handle the idea of touching grass for once? You: if this is your idea of convincing me its not working fucker Wonwoo: Good, because I don't care if you go or not. You: THEN WHY ARE WE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION???" Wonwoo: Because it's fun annoying you. Isn't that what friends are for? You: i fucking hate you you should just die Wonwoo: No, you don't

You glared at your screen, scrolling through your options for a witty comeback.

Wonwoo: Look, if it's about him, don't let it stop you. Your fingers froze mid-type. You: what are you talking about Wonwoo: Don't play dumb. You: im not Wonwoo: Sure. Anyway, just saying—if you're scared of seeing Jeonghan, you should just suck it up. You can always leave early if it gets awkward.

Your stomach churned at the mention of his name. So Wonwoo noticed? He's always been perceptive.

You: youre insufferable Wonwoo: I try. So, see you at the party? You: still not going :p Wonwoo: Liar.

And just like that, he went offline, leaving you with nothing but your reflection in the black mirror of your phone screen and the uncomfortable knot tightening in your chest.

By noon, after hours of fighting with yourself—and your growing suspicion that Wonwoo might actually have a point—you gave in.

DM to Seungcheol - 12:47 PM You: fine. ill stop by for a bit Seungcheol: Knew you'd come around. See you there.

You sighed, already dreading what you'd gotten yourself into.

The Party - 8:30 PM

You weren't sure why you let yourself be talked into this. The thrum of music greeted you as soon as you stepped into the lavish apartment Seungcheol had rented for the evening. It reeked of overpriced cologne, faint perfume, and an energy you couldn't immediately name but recognized as too much.

Seungkwan was the first to spot you.

"YOU CAME!" he shouted, practically launching himself at you. He'd always been the overly enthusiastic type, but tonight, his excitement seemed to border on hysteria. "I knew you'd show up! You look so cute—who are you trying to impress?"

"No one," you muttered, brushing him off with a half-smile. "I'm here because I promised Seungcheol. Don't get weird about it."

"Sure, sure," Seungkwan replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He glanced over your shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially. "By the way, guess who's already here."

You kept your expression neutral. "Who?"

"Jeonghan," he whispered, his voice practically dripping with scandal. "And some girl."

Of course.

You scanned the room, your eyes immediately landing on him. Jeonghan stood near the bar, drink in hand, with a girl perched close, leaning into his space like she belonged there. He looked effortlessly put together in a dark button-up, his signature smirk in place as he responded to something she said.

"Why do you even care?" Seungkwan teased, following your gaze. "Wait. Don't tell me—"

"I don't," you cut him off, turning away sharply. "I need a drink."

Seungkwan giggled, but he let you go. You made your way to the kitchen. The faint sound of laughter and conversations faded as you poured yourself a drink and leaned against the counter, hoping no one would bother you.

"Called it."

The voice came from behind you.

You didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Wonwoo," you sighed, turning just enough to glare at him. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark hoodie and jeans making him look out of place among the more dressed-up crowd.

"What?" he asked, sipping his drink. "You're here, aren't you?"

"Against my better judgment," you muttered.

Wonwoo raised a brow. "And yet, here you are, pretending you're not dying to check if anyone's noticed you."

Your cheeks heated. "I wasn't—"

"Save it," he interrupted, smirking. "You're bad at lying."

You rolled your eyes, taking a long sip of your drink. "Why are you even here? Didn't think parties were your thing."

"They're not," he said, shrugging. "But someone's gotta keep you from self-destructing."

"Gee, thanks," you deadpanned.

"You're welcome."

Later That Night

You thought you were doing a decent job of avoiding Jeonghan until he appeared out of nowhere, stepping into your path as you tried to slip away from the main room.

"Leaving already?" His voice was smooth, a little too casual, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something sharper.

You froze. "Jeonghan."

He tilted his head, studying you. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

"Didn't think you'd care."

"Touché." His lips curled into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You've been avoiding me."

"I've been busy."

"Busy avoiding me?"

You glared at him. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Maybe." He stepped closer, his gaze dropping to the drink in your hand before returning to your face. "Someone thinks you're trying to prove a point by showing up tonight."

"Let them think whatever they want," you said, your tone colder than you intended.

Jeonghan smirked. "So it's not about her?"

"Not everything is about her," you snapped, your frustration bubbling over. "And if you're just here to play games, don't bother. I'm not in the mood."

For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, he leaned in, his voice dropping low.

"You think you know the game we're playing," he murmured, "but you don't. Not yet."

Before you could respond, he stepped back, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your mind spinning.

From across the room, you caught Wonwoo watching, his expression unreadable.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every time you turned your head, it felt like someone's gaze lingered a second too long—whether it was Jeonghan's cryptic smirks or Wonwoo's occasional glances, like he was trying to piece something together.

But you didn't have time for either of them. Not tonight.

Not until Wonwoo found you again.

"Drinking alone?" he teased, appearing in the hallway where you'd gone to catch your breath.

You scowled at him. "Are you stalking me now?"

"No," he said easily, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. "Just thought I'd find you sulking somewhere. You're predictable."

"And you're annoying," you shot back.

"Funny. Didn't stop you from talking to me."

You opened your mouth to retort, but he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost teasing tone. "Let me guess. He said something to piss you off."

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb," he said, tilting his head toward the party behind you. "Jeonghan. You've been dodging him all night, but I saw the way you tensed up earlier."

You swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of how close he was. "It's none of your business."

"I know," he said, his gaze sharp, searching. "But it's entertaining. Watching you flinch every time he's near."

"Go to hell, Wonwoo," you muttered, turning away.

You barely made it two steps before his hand caught your wrist.

"Let go," you hissed, yanking your arm, but he didn't budge.

"Why do you let him get to you like this?" Wonwoo asked, his voice calm but cutting.

"He doesn't," you snapped, though even you didn't believe it.

Wonwoo's grip loosened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smirked. "You're such a bad liar."

Something about the way he said it—like he knew exactly which buttons to push—made you snap.

You shoved him, hard enough to make him stumble back a step. "Why do you care, huh? You don't even like me."

"You're right," he said, recovering quickly, his smirk widening. "I don't. But that doesn't mean I can't have fun messing with you."

"Oh, screw you—"

Before you could finish, he closed the gap between you, his hand cupping your jaw as he kissed you.

It wasn't gentle.

It was heated, rough, and full of the frustration you both seemed to carry whenever you were around each other.

You didn't even realize you'd kissed him back until your back hit the wall, his hands on your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair.

The kiss was deep, his tongue licking at your bottom lip, seeking for entrance to your mouth. Without even thinking to process things, your mouth responded almost too immediately while his tongue explored yours to a rhythm.

He kissed you good, and you can't even deny it right now. Your heart was beating fast—faster than you'd ever imagine.

Make-out sessions like this was never a problem to you, but why are you feeling something different now?

This damned man.

And just like that, you were out of breath. With Wonwoo leaning his face closer as if he doesn't want you to get away just yet, you didn't mind. You were too into the kiss that you weren't even trying to pull away.

The kiss was messy, electric, and entirely unexpected.

"Wonwoo," you managed to gasp when he pulled back just enough to let you breathe. Your lips glossed with both of your salivas.

"What?" he murmured, his voice low, his lips brushing yours. His eyes locked to yours then dropped to your swollen, plumped lips. He looked at you differently—at least now.

"This—" You shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts. "This doesn't mean anything."

"Obviously," he said, smirking again. "But that didn't stop you, did it?"

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, silencing whatever protest you might've had.

Wonwoo pulled you into a nearby room—thank god it was even vacant. The whole time, he didn't even lean away from the kiss. He kissed you as if he was trying to swallow you whole. But then again, it was hot as hell.

"So fucking sweet," Wonwoo thought to himself as he carries you on the hips and places you on the nearby table. He stood in between your legs.

Screw it, you can't even think right now—not when his hands keep roaming around your hips. It sent a shiver to your spine. It's like his hands were touching you through your dress. Is that even possible?

The way your tongues swirled, entangling to each other was felt incredibly good.

"So soft," he murmured in between the kiss. And he's doing it again. His head kept pushing towards you when you're not even trying to move away.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, while your legs found itself encircling his waist. You swore you can feel Wonwoo's smirk that always made you want to punch him in the guts for. But now, you find it attractive for once.

Feeling his bulge like this, you're soaked. Fuck, you're so wet it felt like you were pissing through your underwear. It's been like this since he placed you on the damned table.

After what felt like an eternity, Wonwoo pulled away for you to catch your breath—partly to catch his breath. He stared at you, his eyes moving to your already swollen lips glistened with his saliva while you panted crazily.

"You're wet." Shit. He noticed? Yeah. He noticed

You couldn't reply. It's like the words got stuck in your throat. You wanted to retort. But it'll all be useless.

"...Fuck you." Really? That's the best you can say? You earned a smug scoff from Wonwoo that's for sure.

He just stared at you with a somehow teasing look on his face. But you were too embarrassed to even speak again. So why the fuck did you speak again.

"H- help me..." You mumbled, eyes turning away and cheeks heating up.

Wonwoo's smirk widened, but he raised a brow, looking at you with innocence as he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Help you with what, exactly?" He knew exactly where to push your buttons.

"Such a fucking tease," you muttered under your breath. He knew that.

"I can't help you if I don't know what it is."

"F- Fuck me.. Wonwoo." Your words came out in a stumble. You went from fuck you to fuck me, that's a revolution.

Wonwoo chuckled, but then his gaze darkened. You couldn't quite point what is. A look of lust? Or is he teasing the fuck out of you again? "Come again?"

"Wonwoo, please.." You sighed, head dropping to his shoulder with frustration. You're so wet you want to start touching yourself. It's like your pussy is on damn fire.

But Wonwoo won't budge until you state exactly what you're asking for.

The heat of your body radiates his when his lips found your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin that sent electric waves through your body. That was your final test.

Your hand moved under your dress and you started rubbing your wet clit through your underwear.

Wonwoo leaned back just a little, looking down at you with a smirk on his lips. You swore you'd kick his balls after this.

Your fingers moved under your underwear and that's when you insert one finger in. You held back the moan, biting your lower lip.

"Shameless slut. That's hot," he says kneeling down as he looked up at you with the same gaze he had earlier. "Need help?"

"P-please..." You replied, tears rolling down your cheeks. You were so frustrated you can punch his damn handsome face right now.

"You're really ruined." He unzips your dress from the back and removed it. Fuck he found your bra really cute. He spread your thighs open before he starts working on it, his lean fingers entering your slippery, glossed pussy. "What the fuck? It swallowed right in, babe." You couldn't tell if the pet name was to annoy you or what. Doesn't matter, cause your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The same fingers he used for typing on his keyboard were inside you right now.

This shit feels too good to be true.

"So wet for me, huh?" he started moving his fingers deeper. You were so wet that his finger slipped in your pussy almost too easily.

Wonwoo reached that one spongy texture. "Fuckk.....!" You moaned out, panting crazily.

His fingers fucked your pussy so well with his thumb running circles on your clit, you squirted. He's moving his fingers in and out of you so fast that you almost reached the depths of heaven.

You came. His hand soaked with your fluids. He pulled out his fingers and licked it. "So pretty seeing you like this. You're sweet, Kitsunya."

Before you can even get back from pleasure, his head was in between your thighs, already licking your pussy clean. And he received a harmonious moans out of you. He loved the sounds you made. He can listen to it all day.

Then his tongue entered your pussy.

"Wonnie... S- so good.. Don't stop." You panted, the sudden nickname making him throbbing hard below. While your fingers entangling through his soft locks, pulling his head so he could reach deeper. And then you came again, on his face, moaning like crazy.

He licked all your fluids before pulling away, licking his lips as he stood up again to look down at you.

"You taste so fucking sweet." He held your chin—making you look up at him as he captures your lips again, tasting yourself.

Wonwoo was devouring you at this point. His tongue working in your mouth. While his hand went to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him, and the other already unclipping your bra.

Then he carried you onto the bed, dropping you on the mattress without pulling away. He started taking his hoodie off while you messily unzips his pants. He helped you pull it down.

He was fucking huge. You knew it already when you felt his bulge earlier, but didn't imagine a length like this.

He pulled away, his cock throbbing with pre-cum. You stared at him, panting, cheeks fucking red.

"Safe word?" He asked, his hands massaging your breasts. You forgot to think for a moment.

"Fox." You replied and he smirked.

With that settled, he spread your legs open—leaning in between your things. His fingers prepping your pussy.

Once wide enough, his tip was placed on the entrance of your pussy, rubbing your clit. he was leaking already.

"F- fuck me rough, Wonwoo." You said, begging like you never usually do.

And that was his last straw. He slammed his cock but entered you slowly, your moans filling the room. "So fucking tight, the hell?"

"Y- you're too fucking big," you muffled, tears of pleasure running down at the stretch.

He pulled his cock and slammed it in you again, this time, it felt good it already reached your g-spot. He was huge.

After a few slow thrusts, Wonwoo felt you adjusting to the stretch, and that's when he started roughly fucking your pussy. You held onto him for your dear life, moaning loudly this time.

"Your pussy is swallowing me so fucking well." He muttered, grunting when he felt your walls clenching around his cock. "Don't fucking cum until I say so."

He took it out before you can even come. You cried.

Then just like that, he slammed his cock in you again—hardly that the sounds of your skin slapping to each other filled the room.

He thrusted in and out so fast you were begging to cum with tears running down your cheeks at the frustration.

"Wonwoo, please..!" You moaned out, head going back as your fingers dug onto the flesh of his shoulder.

Wonwoo didn't stop entering you fastly, his hips moving crazily fast, his cock reaching your g-spot. "Don't fucking.." he grunted out. "..cum yet."

You squirted. You were sobbing, not because it hurt, but because it felt too good yet frustrating at the same time.

But the way he's ramming into your pussy was enough to cloud all the frustrations away.

He shut you up when he captured your lips—tongue kissing you too well. He felt your walls clenching around him again. "Cum all over me, baby."

"I'm cumming!" White fluids almost pushing his dick off. And not long after, he took out his cock and his hot load went all over your stomach. You were panting crazily, covering your face with your hands.

Wonwoo patted your head. He didn't call you names anymore either.

Being called "slut" never made sense to you. He didn't repeat it either.

You went in the shower first, your vagina and legs were so sore you felt numb. And when you finally went out—the room smelled like sex and his faint cologne. You didn't look at him until he threw your dress to your face.

You glared at him, covering your body with the towel you were holding as Wonwoo enters the bathroom next.

In the bathroom, Wonwoo was still hard. He just couldn't help it. When you came out of the shower smelling good as fuck, shit... You were even prettier without make-up on. Thinking of it makes him want to fuck you again.

But now, he just had to settle back. This was nothing. And yet he's fucking his hand at the thought of you.

When Wonwoo emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead, he looked entirely different. The stark simplicity of his black t-shirt and sweatpants did nothing to diminish how effortlessly good he looked.

His glasses caught the faint light of the room as he fixed them, his expression unreadable as he walked toward the bed and sat at its edge, towel slung lazily over his shoulder.

"Jerk," you muttered under your breath—though not quite loud enough for it to sound like a challenge.

He arched an eyebrow at you, but said nothing. The silence stretched, the air between you heavy.

He looks hot.

The thought crept in uninvited, but you shoved it down quickly, pretending to fiddle with the zipper at the back of your dress.

It wasn't cooperating.

Wonwoo noticed. He stood silently, his presence looming behind you. Without a word, he reached for the zipper, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pulled it up smoothly.

You caught his reflection in the mirror—the sharp lines of his face, the faint furrow of his brows, and the way his eyes lingered, just for a moment, before he let go.

"You didn't have to," you mumbled, your gaze dropping to the floor.

"I know," he replied simply, stepping back. His tone was devoid of sarcasm, yet it felt loaded with unspoken meaning.

He handed you an oversized jacket without waiting for you to ask. "Here."

You took it wordlessly, slipping one arm in, then the other, the fabric engulfing you like a shield. As you turned back to the mirror, fixing your makeup and on attempting to dry your hair as quick as you can, you felt his eyes on you.

Your gaze flickered up to the mirror, catching him already staring.

He didn't look away.

Your cheeks warmed under his scrutiny, and you quickly broke eye contact, muttering something incoherent as you turned toward the door.

"Wait," Wonwoo said, his voice low, stopping you in your tracks.

You barely had time to react before he closed the distance between you, his hands bracing lightly on either side of the doorframe, trapping you.

"What?" you asked, your voice wavering more than you'd like.

He didn't answer right away. His gaze flickered over your face—your swollen lips, the faint color in your cheeks, the way your breath hitched as he leaned closer.

"Nothing," he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Just wanted to see if you'd leave without saying goodbye."

"I should've," you shot back, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice betrayed you.

"Maybe."

And then he kissed you again.

This time, it was slower, deliberate, as though he was testing just how far he could push you. His hands slid to your waist, tugging you closer, and you melted against him despite every voice in your head screaming at you to stop.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, lips tangled, the world outside fading into irrelevance.

The kiss involved your tongues again, your head hitting the door behind you—while Wonwoo was pushing his head closer to you again.

But eventually, reality crept back in.

"I—" you started, putting hands on his chest to push him slightly away just enough to catch your breath.

"Yeah," Wonwoo said, his voice equally quiet, though his smirk lingered.

You didn't bother finishing your sentence. Instead, you slipped out of the room, your heart pounding and your mind racing.

The oversized jacket he'd given you hung loosely over your dress, a silent reminder of whatever had just happened.

The noise of the party hit you like a wall, jolting you back to your surroundings. You avoided eye contact with anyone as you wove through the crowd, heading for the kitchen in search of water—or an excuse to keep yourself busy.

But then you felt it.

A pair of eyes.

When you glanced up, there he was.

Jeonghan.

He stood near the bar, leaning casually against the counter, a drink in hand. His expression was unreadable, but the slight tilt of his head and the glint in his eyes told you he'd noticed something was different.

Your lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked in the opposite direction, your pulse racing.

Wonwoo stayed behind, leaning lazily against the doorframe. His hair was still damp, his smirk a little too self-satisfied.

He watched the closed door for a moment longer before turning back toward the bed, dropping the towel onto the chair in the corner.

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he checked the time.

A message popped up from Seungkwan in his DM.

Seungkwan: Bro, where tf are you? Jeonghan keeps asking about Kitsunya. Says she's acting weird. Did y'all fight or smth?

Wonwoo stared at the message, his smirk fading into something more contemplative.

"No," he murmured to himself, tossing his phone onto the same bed you two had sex on. "We didn't fight."

The party could wait. For now, he needed a moment to think—or to figure out why he'd let himself care.

You had barely taken a sip of water when a voice interrupted your solitude.

"Long night?"

You froze, clutching the glass tighter. Turning slowly, you met Jeonghan's gaze. He stood a few feet away, his usual confident demeanor wrapped around him like a second skin.

"What do you want?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

He stepped closer, his expression soft but his eyes sharp. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

"I don't follow."

Jeonghan tilted his head, studying you. "You're wearing someone else's jacket."

Your stomach dropped. "So?"

"So," he echoed, his lips curving into a faint smile, "it's not like you to borrow things. Especially not from... whoever it is you've been sneaking around with tonight."

Your cheeks burned. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Jeonghan's tone was light, teasing, but his gaze pinned you in place. "You've been avoiding me all night. And now you're practically running from the room. It's not hard to connect the dots."

"Drop it, Jeonghan," you snapped, your voice low.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, stepping closer, he leaned down slightly so his face was level with yours.

"I will," he said softly, "when you stop looking like you've just been caught."

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he straightened and walked away, leaving you alone with the weight of his words.

Back in the room, Wonwoo debated rejoining the party. The chaos didn't appeal to him, but the lingering hum of your presence in the space did.

He'd kissed you twice.

Three times, if he counted the one that had blurred into more than just kissing.

And now, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

When he finally pushed himself off the bed and headed back into the main area, the atmosphere was heavier than before.

The music was loud, but the tension in the room was louder.

He spotted you almost immediately, standing near the kitchen entrance talking with Woozi. Jeonghan was a few feet away, talking to someone else, but his attention kept flicking to you.

Wonwoo's jaw tightened.

Woozi excused himself by patting you on the head. "I'll be over there with Hoshi if you ever need me."

And you hummed, nodding as he walked away.

"Having fun?"

Your eyes snapped to his, wide with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a party," he said dryly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "What do you think?"

You glared at him, but before you could retort, Jeonghan appeared.

"Wonwoo," Jeonghan said smoothly, his smile as sharp as ever. "Didn't expect to see you hanging around here."

Wonwoo shrugged, his gaze steady. "Didn't expect to see you keeping tabs."

Jeonghan's smile didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Just looking out for my friends."

The unspoken implication hung in the air, and you felt yourself shrinking under the weight of it.

"Sure you are," Wonwoo said, his tone light but his posture tense.

You couldn't take it anymore. "I'm going to get some air," you muttered, brushing past them before either could stop you.

The cool night air hit you like a slap, cutting through the heat that had built up inside.

You leaned against the railing, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Running away again?"

You turned to find Wonwoo behind you, his hands in his pockets and his expression unreadable.

He's been around you since the night had started.

"Don't you have better things to do?" you asked, your voice sharp.

"Probably," he said, stepping closer. "But this seemed more interesting."

You sighed, turning back to the view. "What do you want, Wonwoo?"

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. "You tell me."

You frowned, glancing at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said, his voice soft but firm, "you've been acting like I'm the problem when you're the one running circles around yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, stepping closer. "You're mad at Jeonghan, mad at me, and probably mad at yourself. But you're not doing anything about it. You're just... stuck."

His words hit a little too close to home, and you hated how right he sounded.

"So what?" you snapped. "What do you want me to do? Forget everything and pretend like it doesn't matter?"

"Maybe," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Or maybe just stop pretending you don't want something different."

Your breath caught as he closed the distance between you.

How can he see right through you? it was unfair.

"Wonwoo—"

He kissed you again, cutting off whatever you were about to say. This kiss wasn't rough or teasing—it was deliberate, almost careful, like he was testing a boundary he wasn't sure he was allowed to cross.

You didn't even try to pull away. Allowing him like you both were a couple or something.

This wasn't even anything to begin with. And that's exactly the problem.

His hand went to the back of your head, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with delicate kisses.

You were kissing him back, deepening the kiss.

He tilted your head a little to the side to get a better angle of the kiss, while your hands hesitated if you should wrap it around him or not.

Screw that, you did anyways. Something felt different. The same feeling hit you like a truck.

Maybe it's because you were in the public, making out with the same man for the past few hours. It was electric—the way he kissed you.

When he pulled back, his gaze searched yours.

"You can keep running," he said quietly. "But I'm not going to chase you."

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone under the stars.

He kept saying that, then why is he always around you? You sighed.

This was an unknown feeling you never had when you were around him or his circle

When you returned to the party, Jeonghan was waiting.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his tone light but his gaze too sharp to be casual.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

He stepped closer, his smile softening. "You know, if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

"Thanks," you said quietly, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice.

But as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, you couldn't help but wonder if he'd seen more than he was letting on.

And if he had, what would he do about it?

a/n: writing 10,000+ words every other day is not as easy as i thought. i feel stupid for even thinking that. balancing school, work, and life is exhausting tbh. BUT i hope i can make it up by updating a chapter ! might take me a while to write a new one but i swear i wont leave this work unfinished. (its exam week so yeah i've been really busy)

i will be posting (if i can by this week) the req actor jeonghan x actor reader i swear it'll be worth it. im battling writers block and due homeworks with my sucked up job.

if you want to be added to the taglist, reblog / comment on this post / teaser / part-time lover masterlist and you'll automatically be tagged on every chapter.

taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896

@october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me @elegantdevill1 @shidily @angel-ishere (thankyou for reblogging !)

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minkieater · 5 months ago

Text

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

004 》 HAN JISUNG

you needed a night out, you needed to have fun— at least that’s what yunho told you. when chan invites your group to a music festival where his curly headed roommate would also be, will it be what you need to get you back on track? or will you start from square one, again?

wc 15.5k my bad y’all its getting serious now | drinking, smoking, kissing, suggestive, music festival vibes, sadness, tiny gets fucked up. vomit but not descriptive. hanjis sexy

“have you guys ever thought about your wedding?”

of course you thought about getting married, your wedding, every little girl does— walking down the aisle next to her father, meeting the love of her life at the altar… all of it seemed so futile after your father passed, you haven’t thought about it as a true reality since then, more of a pipedream.

you didn’t know if you were simply driving yourself insane or if you really were obsessed with mingyu, but every single waking thought you’ve had since saturday was about getting married, knowing you were nowhere near that stage of your life but for some reason… questioning it. maybe even excited for it.

everything with mingyu has felt meant to be so far… maybe it was.

the entire table looked at you in silence– eight pupils staring into your soul, wondering where the fuck that came from. yunho was quick to shut you down.

“i don’t even want to ask, tiny.”

“i’m serious! have you even considered what you’d want in a partner? what your wedding would look like?” you were in dreamland, sparkles in your eyes and everything as you stared up at the high ceilings of your kitchen. yeosang and san had brought over dinner, which led to the five of you seated on barstools around your kitchen island in silence, up until now.

“sexy and rich,” yeosang didn’t even look up, mouth full as he digged deeper into his meal.

san nodded in agreement– “my wedding will be big enough to make everyone attending jealous, small enough to make others wish they were invited.”

“you’re both shallow,” you grumble, picking at your plate, moving your food around. you glance at your twin, “ace, what about you? do you think reia’s the one?”

ace lets out a nervous chuckle, one that sounds exactly like yours, “i– uh, maybe. possible.”

you pop a brow, sitting back in your stool, straightening your back. you weren’t the only one that picked up on it, the entire table noticed his shift in energy, the change in tone. yunho asks, “what’s going on?”

ace groans in defeat when there was never an argument to begin with, elbows hitting the granite, palms digging into his eyes. “i think reia’s going to break up with me.”

“why?” your voice is loud, surprised. you take it down a notch, “what happened?”

he leans back, moving his hands away from his face and you notice that he looks tired. bags under his eyes, his skin looked dull, his freckles weren’t freckling like they usually did. you blamed it on school and the stress he’d been under– you didn’t think reia had anything to do with it. last time you checked, how ace felt about reia is how you felt about mingyu.

“she’s been saying shit like how i’m not giving her enough attention, not seeing her enough, all i care about is school and when i’m not doing homework i’m with you guys,” he huffs, his voice sounding weak now that he’s finally admitting it.

“why doesn’t she come hangout with us?” yeosang asked, but you were sure that’s what you were all thinking. “she’s usually here all the time, and your workload for school hasn’t changed.”

“i guess she’s been feeling this way for awhile,” ace stretched his arms over his head, lifting his eyebrows, expression saying he’s had this conversation already– with her. “we don’t have enough one on one time.”

yunho leans over the counter, palm holding up his baseball cap covered head, “get an airbnb for a weekend, take her somewhere nice, just the two of you. she’s probably feeling underappreciated and overwhelmed with her own schoolwork.”

“that’s actually a good idea,” ace marvels, a semblance of light returning to his eyes, “you’re so good with girls, bro. incredible how you’re still single.”

yunho smiles, “incredible how i manage to fight ‘em off me.”

yeosang rolls his eyes, “can we circle back to why teens is asking about marriage?”

“no,” the three boys say in unison, all eyes landing on yeosang.

“okay, fine, riddle me this,” yeosang sits a little straighter, index finger pointing to the air in front of him, “tiny, whose never gone on a date before a month ago, shows up to dinner with her prehistoric boyfriend and starts talking about marriage. no one wants to ask any questions?”

you gasp, “yeosang! he is not—”

“that’s actually a good point,” san shrugs, “we haven’t talked about him yet.”

“how old is he anyways?” yunho asks, both elbows on the table now, long fingers folded over one another on the top of his palms.

your cheeks flush, near mumbling as you redirect your attention back to the food in front of you, hoping no one notices the warmth on your skin. you were waiting for this question, scared of this question. “thirty.”

“tiny.” ace’s tone is firm, disappointed even if he only said your name— the underlying message is clear to you. you break your staring contest with your plate to look up to him, there are a million words on his tongue, but he says none of them.

your face burned in embarrassment, you were scrambling for something to say, small tuts leaving your lips instead. you didn’t know how to defend it, defend him— you were still debating it yourself. they didn’t know this was currently a sensitive topic, that you’d been non stop questioning your relationship with mingyu for almost forty eight hours, worried that it won’t work out because of that very reason.

san giggles, “we knew you had daddy issues, teens, would’ve never expected you to fuck someone old enough to be one. props to you, actually.”

your world went silent, the insult flipping a switch within you. your train of thought skipped right past anger to hurt, tears quickly filling your eyes. you fled from the kitchen— two palms flat on the granite countertop pushed you off of your stool, legs racing through your hallway. you only heard yunho scold san with a stern drag of his name as your legs took you to up your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

that wasn’t the conversation you intended to open by asking that question. you were once again putting your foot in your mouth, regretting sharing your thoughts, it was as if san had that statement locked and loaded–– ready to hit its target. your boys had always said whatever they thought, feelings be damned, you forgot how much it hurt to be on the receiving end.

it felt like you were younger when they’d tease you relentlessly, only stopping when ace made them. you haven’t felt that way in a long time, their teasing now was lighthearted, and you did it right back— it’s been years since you’ve been in tears in your bedroom over something one of the boys said.

as you laid on your back, sprawled across your mattress, you began to think, and what san said started to make more and more sense as you thought about it. daddy issues— your tears dried without you noticing. mingyu’s age, his career, his stability, the pet names, how he took care of you already, his dominating nature that ‘only came out with you… you ate up every moment— you loved it, even.

but it was all because of one thing, and as much as you hated it, san hit it right on the money.

“teens?” he spoke before he knocked, three rhythmic taps of his knuckles against your door.

“go away, yunho,” you frown, turning on your side with your back facing the door even if he couldn’t see you.

“let me in,” he urged, you could see his scowl through the wooden slab that separated you. “i’m sorry for what san said– san is sorry for what he said. please let me talk to you.”

you sighed, you knew he wouldn’t go away, he’d sit there until you opened up whether that be in one hour or six. you got up, unlocking your door, but you didn’t open it. you let him open it himself as he followed you inside your room, you plopped onto your bed lifelessly, your body a dead weight. he followed you, sitting at the foot of your bed, resting a hand on your ankles that laid one over the other.

“he shouldn’t of said that,” yunho started, “it was fucked up. he crossed a line.”

“he’s right,” your throat constricted, words fighting their way through. your words become quieter, a strain on your vocal chords, “i thought mingyu was perfect.”

“what did i tell you?” yunho leaned across your legs so he could see your face that was laid on the pillow. you looked down at him as he said, “you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important.”

you blinked, tears returning to you, filling up your waterline. “he does all of those things, he makes me feel that way, and now i’m supposed to be normal when i know the only reason i feel this way about him is because my dad is dead? because matt fucking sucks?”

yunho purses his lips, his body stiffening on top of your legs. “tiny, there’s eight years between you. he’s fooling around with you, it’s not right.”

“i know our age difference already!” your voice raises, “he’s done everything right, yunho. you don’t know him, you didn’t even try to get to know him when he was here, instead you sulked in your bad mood like a child. what was that even about?”

“don’t get pissed at me because of something san said,” he sits up, his weight lifted from your legs, his eyes looking everywhere but at you as he continues. “i was just in a bad mood saturday, it wasn’t about anything.”

“you’re lying, jeong yunho. you forget that i know you,” you sit up, too, facing him feet apart on your mattress. he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, he wasn’t expecting you to call him out.

“you’re missing the point,” he sighs, looking down at your mattress, reining in the topic at hand. “i don’t know him, but i don’t need to. eight years of life is longer than you think, he knows a lot more than you, you just started going on dates. you don’t know anything, tiny.”

“i know enough,” you shake your head, “i know that i like him a lot and that’s enough for me.”

“so what, you want to be married within the next two years?” he looked back up to you, his face was unreadable, but his voice was firm, truthful. he meant every word he said. “miss out on being in your twenties? miss out on dating? learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things. learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?”

you blink, “is that why you’re single? experiencing life, dating around, fucking who you please because you can? sounds boring to me.” your words are curt, intended to sting. “i’d much rather learn and experience with someone, grow together as a unit.”

“be realistic, think like you’re twenty two, not like you’re still seventeen,” he bites, sending the sting right back to you. after a moment’s pause, he speaks, his voice soft. “i’m single because i’m waiting.”

“for what?” you ask, eyebrows knitted together, tears still dancing down your cheeks. “how do you know? …what you’re waiting for?”

“it’s not for what, tiny— it’s for who.”

────── ꨄ︎

“i have an idea,” chan was smiling ear to ear, you wondered if the two of you would ever pay attention to your lecture again, two weeks in a row spent talking the entire class. “me and my roommates are going to a music festival this weekend, you should come.”

your lips form a line, “chan, if this is about–”

“hear me out!” he interjects, a finger coming up between you, silencing you. you sit back in your chair, crossing your arms as he continues. “i know you’re seeing someone, but this will get jisung off my back and you can get a feel for him without making it an actual thing.”

seeing someone feels sour, you ignore it— “okay, let me hear your plan.”

“it’s a music festival, so it’s not like it’s some private, real date like going to dinner or something. you can bring your friends, i’ll be with mine, we can meet up and it can be a group thing so you have people to hangout with if you aren’t into hanji,” he raises his eyebrows with a smile as he awaited your response, “not bad, right?”

you think about it for a second– it’s not a terrible idea, and you did owe chan for your own date with him. you nod, “when is it?”

“saturday, i’ll text you the link for tickets. me and my three roommates are going, jisung jihoon and jeongin, everybody’s single,” he winks, “they’re all music people.”

“and all of their names start with J,” your eyebrows furrow, “how did you manage that?”

he shrugs, “me and jisung were roommates, jeongin and jihoon were roommates, we got an apartment together sophomore year and it just happened to be that way. i’m the only non-music major and the only one whose name doesn’t start with a J,” he brings his attention to his laptop, pulling up the website for the music festival.

“it’s all weekend long, you probably don’t want to go all weekend so just come for one day,” he says, pulling up the lineup on the screen. you scan the list and you know several artists, it seems fun, and the idea was well thought out. it wasn’t necessarily a date, but instead a place you would just happen to be at together– you would barely have to talk to jisung if you didn’t want to.

you didn’t have to tell mingyu, either— not that he’d have an issue if you did. being wednesday now, you haven’t seen him since sunday morning, and since monday night… there was no way he couldn’t tell something was off. where you were usually bubbly on the phone with him, over text, you’d turn monotonous without even realizing. the whole relationship began to feel stale after what san said, after your talk with yunho. you weren’t sure if any of your feelings were legitimate anymore.

chan texts you the link and you immediately send it to your groupchat, telling the boys to clear their schedules and to buy their tickets (you tell san to get one for you, too. he owes you). you were met with no pushback, all of the boys agreeing except ace— he was taking reia away for the weekend, using yunho’s idea.

“i’m so excited,” chan beams, scrolling through the website, “it’s really cool, we’ve gone every year since we started here. tell your friends that my roommates are single.”

“i’ve never been to a music festival before, just random concerts here and there. you’ll have to show us etiquette,” you snicker when you realize exactly what he’s implying with his roommates— you didn’t think any of your three boys had gotten any in awhile. “i will definitely let them know.”

as you walked out of class and into the brisk, october air, a certain car stuck out like a sore thumb in the parking lot. sitting idly and illegally was a BMW pulled up beside the curb, closest to the building of your class— completely blacked out, tinted windows with a gold seventeen decal on the back window on the driver’s side… that car belonged to one person and one person only.

he stepped out of his car as soon as you walked out of the building, dressed in all black business casual attire, sunglasses on his face. you bid chan goodbye without as much as a glance, feet drifting toward mingyu so fluidly and without thought you could’ve been floating all over again. maybe he did cast a spell on you.

mingyu stepped around the vehicle to open his passenger side door, greeting you with a smile, “hey, princess.” he kissed you on the head before you slid into the seat, the smell of his cologne and fresh leather hitting your nose as he shut the door behind you.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as he got into the driver’s seat, putting the car into reverse. you began feeling awkward, confused, your talk with yunho came to mind again– mingyu’s presence made it too easy to forget all of your worries.

“don’t sound too excited, i’m taking you to lunch,” he shot you a tight lipped smile as he put his car into gear, pulling out of the parking lot.

“mingyu,” you breathed with a small shake of your head. you hadn’t even gotten all of your thoughts in order, you wanted to wait before you talked to him, you knew it was coming eventually— he did, too.

“don’t say anything,” he kept his gaze on the road in front of him, the sun shining through his windshield, kissing his soft, golden skin. he let his hand fall to your thigh. “just… let me do this.”

“okay,” you said, flushing as the weight of his palm hit your skin. electricity shot through you every time you were with him, every time he touched you— it had to mean something.

or did you just want it to?

he pulled into the parking lot of a diner, a small one near your campus. you loved diners, you used to go with your family growing up once a week— every sunday morning, stopping shortly after you turned twelve. your blood thrummed in excitement under your skin.

you sat in a booth, a quietness consuming the two of you, you thought maybe he didn’t know what to say— you definitely didn’t. mingyu broke the silence first.

“you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“there’s nothing to tell, nothing going on, i mean,” you barely looked up from your menu when you knew what you wanted to order in the parking lot. how do you tell someone that the only reason you’re interested in them is because you’re wired to?

he sighed, laying his menu down on the table. the waitress comes and takes your orders, leaving you to silence once again.

“the only way this is going to work is if you’re honest,” his voice is more serious than it usually is. you have nothing to hold in your hands anymore— it feels like you’re back at that expensive restaurant when mingyu first brought you on an impromptu lunch date. you feel exposed.

you run a hand through your hair, “i don’t know, mingyu.” you pause, then internally said fuck it. “you said you won’t rush anything with me, but what if i’m just holding you back?”

“how would you be holding me back?” his eyes were full of concern as he leaned forward, arms folding across the table.

“you’re thirty, ready to get married, start a family,” you shake your head, “i’m not even close to being there yet.”

“i met you two weeks ago,” a chuckle leaves his lips, trying to relieve the tension brought by your statement, “why is that on your mind?”

“you shouldn’t be wasting your time, mingyu. you’re fooling around with a twenty two year old,” your own words weren’t leaving your lips— they were yunho’s.

“fooling around?” his eyes were raised as if you insulted him. “if i was fooling around i wouldn’t have made so much of an effort. wouldn’t have cooked for you, met your family, i would’ve fucked you the day i met you and never spoken to you again.”

the gears turn in your head, he said it so simply, you knew it was to help put you at ease— it hurt instead. he continues, “i’ve been serious about you since the day you met me for lunch. i like you.”

“and what happens when you meet someone who’s ready?” you bite, your brain swirling with mingyu’s testimony but also the advice from your twin. “if your ex comes back to this side of the country, if you meet someone who doesn’t have a dead dad, someone actually meant for you.”

mingyu laughs— the chuckle was not out of amusement, it was dry and venomous and knowing. “there it is.”

“what?” you ask, shifting in the old leather booth as if you were in the hot seat.

“they got into your head, didn’t they?” he shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his face, “i knew they didn’t like me, your friends, your brother— you would never say that on your own.”

“nobody ‘got to me’, mingyu,” you argue, your fingers twisting on the table between you because they did get to you and you know that, but you think they might be right. “how do you know what i would say and wouldn’t say? like you said, we met two weeks ago.”

his face hits his palms as he sighs, they slide over his skin in frustration, “was it yunho?”

“what?” your back presses against the cushion of the booth, “was what yunho?”

the waitress brings your food to the table, halting your conversation or argument. a part of you wanted to thank her for cutting you off, you didn’t know if you wanted him to continue— not when yunho was brought into the conversation. he did, though, as soon as she walked away from the table.

he cut into his meal– “yunho doesn’t like me.”

“he has never once said that, mingyu,” you respond, cutting into your french toast. diners were best for all day breakfast.

“he doesn’t need to,” he was smiling again, not out of happiness, you couldn’t place his emotions based on his face. his words didn’t match it. “game’s game. this whole conversation is ridiculous, can’t you see that?”

“what are you talking about?” your eyebrows blend together, so furrowed in confusion you were sure you looked animated, “what am i not seeing?”

“it’s besides the point,” he pays attention to his food again, his tone laced with irritation. “i like you, i’ve been trying to be consistent with showing how much i like you— how much i want to do this the right way.”

“i understand if you think we can’t be together because of our age, because of your past, things out of your control, but i want you to know that i don’t agree. i don’t think any of that should be used to factor whether we work or not because i think we work really well.”

“i think we get along really well, too,” you said, sounding like you were the one trying to convince him now – you snapped yourself back into reality, what you felt, what you knew, not the bubble mingyu put you in. “in the long run i… mingyu i don’t know if i’m ready for all of this.”

“all of what?” he was getting frustrated now, furrowed brows and a tight jaw, “i haven’t tried to take this even one step further. are you scared of what it could turn into?”

“yes, it feels real,” you shake your head, “it feels really real.”

“in any other situation that’d be a good thing,” he takes a hand through his hair, sitting back in the booth, “maybe you’re right. too young, i guess.”

regret washes over you like a bucket of cold water, but you don’t falter in your words, reciting them from someone else’s mouth. “eight years is a lot longer than i thought it was, you know more than i do– i just started dating.”

he nods, lips pursed, but he says nothing for a few moments. you stare at him with flushed cheeks, an uneasiness sitting at the pit of your stomach. it was fight or flight, and there’s nowhere to run– literally.

“finish your meal and i’ll take you back to campus,” you couldn’t read his tone, but it was definitely not happy.

like you always did with mingyu, whether you wanted to or it was installed in you, you obeyed. you spent the rest of your meal wishing you could say something else, words at the tip of your tongue that you couldn’t find the voice to say. he paid for your meal, a gentleman until the end, and drove you back to campus.

“before you go, can i just say one thing?” he says as he turns to you, flipping his sunglasses on top of his head. you nod.

“you don’t have to listen to them,” he says and your mouth parts to speak, but he cuts you off. “you may think they know everything about you because you grew up with them, but they don’t know how you feel. they don’t know my intentions for you, they don’t know how much i like you.”

“i know you’ve been through a lot in your life and they were there for you every step of the way, but i’d treat you so fucking well. i would never pressure you into marriage, or having kids or whatever worries have been put into your pretty little brain. i’d do whatever you wanted– if you wanted to travel, i’d take you on trips, we could explore every little school on the opposite side of the world. if you wanted to open your own damn school, i’d do that with you, i’d help you. i don’t want you to walk away with the idea that i’m not the one for you— we both know this would’ve worked if you let it.”

jaw slack and eyes filled with tears, you stared at him. you blinked once, twice, then your lips were on his before you could even process that you had moved an inch.

you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important.

isn’t that what this is? isn’t this what you’ve been looking for? your brain whirled, mingyu’s tongue licking into your mouth, his huge palms holding your wet cheeks.

learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things.

tears flowed down your skin, onto mingyu’s fingers, he just kissed you harder.

learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?

there was only one way this could end– you needed it to end, now, or else you’d never leave his car. you pulled away from mingyu, wide eyed and so fucking confused. you hated yourself in this moment– it felt like being pulled into your living room when mingyu was in your kitchen. being pulled towards comfort and familiarity, when what your future could be was waiting for you, missing you, hoping you’d stay.

“i’m sorry,” was all you could get out before you were pushing the car door open and racing towards your own.

────── ꨄ︎

figuring out an outfit for a music festival was hard to begin with, you had too many factors adding onto it that made the task a thousand times worse. you could barely get yourself out of bed this morning for starters, you hopped in the shower half past eleven when you needed to leave at one. because it was late october and most music festivals were held in the summer, even pinterest wasn’t helping you with inspiration. on top of that, having three men in your bedroom without a lick of a feminine fashion sense made it borderline overstimulating, they threw ideas at you while their outside clothes laid all over your unmade bed– it tipped you over the edge. the only good part was that it’s cold outside.

you went casual– you needed to, you’d be outside for hours and alcohol can only heat you up so much. baggy jeans, a hoodie and an oversized jacket on top, you accessorized with a baseball cap and some sneakers and you were set. a mini purse with nothing but your ID and some lip gloss sat on your shoulder, sunglasses on your face, you’d be warm, comfortable and cute.

when you walked downstairs to the three boys sitting in your living room, you realized you were all wearing different versions of the same outfit. you copied them without even realizing– naturally, they noticed, and had plenty to say about it. you didn’t care enough to change.

the drive to the festival wasn’t terrible, little traffic until you got closer to the venue, yunho drove with loud music playing through the speakers and the other two singing along in the backseat. when you arrived, you immediately sent a text to chan letting him know you arrived.

“i want a drink,” you said as soon as you walked through security, yunho on your left and the other two on your right. “who’s paying for it?”

“why can’t you pay for it? you should buy us drinks,” yeosang huffed, digging his hands further into his pockets.

“you’re in the clear,” you moved a little closer to yeosang, bumping your shoulder against his. “i didn’t bring money, the other two are responsible for ruining my relationship with mingyu, so they get to buy my drinks all night.”

san gasps, “i am not responsible–”

“surfside?” yunho asks, eyes already scanning the area for the nearest bar, not wanting to begin that conversation again. his figure stood over the massive crowd already formed around you, your group definitely did not get there early.

“yes, please,” a small smile sat on your face as you followed yunho towards the nearest bar, pleased with how quickly he agreed, he bought drinks for the two of you– leaving san and yeosang to fend for themselves.

san grumbles, “you should buy me a drink for how mean you’ve been.”

you point your eyes at him and he shrinks under your gaze, voice growing small as he said, “i’ll buy the next round.”

you walked through the crowd, so many different kinds of people surrounded you. a range of ages, dressed in clothes much more appropriate for a music festival than yours. the energy of the space was so bright, so welcoming, it was beckoning your mood to brighten– you wished you could let it.

you stayed close to at least one of the three, keeping your eyes peeled under your sunglasses for a blonde boy no taller than five foot eight. he was nowhere to be found, as you assumed since the venue was so massive. you walked up to the first stage, the main stage which was one you wanted to see, a small indie band. you knew some songs, but you wouldn’t know an entire setlist– the show you really wanted to see wasn’t until later.

being after three and you hadn’t ingested anything other than your morning (afternoon) coffee, the surfside you had taken about four sips of was already going straight to your head. you wore a disinterested look even though the stage was good, the band was putting on a great show, you’ve been miserable since wednesday. you missed mingyu, even if your time together was short– you figured that you might be perpetually stuck between if your choice was right or if you regret it completely.

“drummer’s hot,” yeosang comes to your side, bumping his shoulder into yours again.

you shoot him a tight lipped smile, “he’s alright.”

“bro, cheer up,” he frowns, “if you were normal you’d be drooling over him right now.”

you roll your eyes, “cheer me up instead of complaining, then.”

“where’s the whiskey date guy? aren’t we supposed to be meeting up with him?” yeosang asks and you pull out your phone from your pocket, four texts from chan filling your screen.

chan: UR HERE!!!! chan: wya

chan: hello

chan: were going to the main stage meet us there

already being at the main stage, you typed back a quick response then looked around through your shaded lenses, the blonde nowhere to be found. you nudged yunho’s side, asking him to look for chan instead, he could see a lot better than you could. as he looked out into the crowd farther than your eyes could see, chan found you first.

“hey!” you heard to your left, a voice that belonged to the one you were searching for. you whipped your head around, a genuine smile surprising you as it filled out your cheeks, waving him over.

“you found me! i just texted you back,” you said as he wrapped you into a short hug of greeting.

he stepped back, looking around you, “where are your friends?”

“here?” you said with eyebrows raised, yeosang, san and yunho coming forward to stand at your sides. “this is san, yeosang and yunho.”

“oh,” a questioning look grew on his face, then he stepped closer to you, speaking quieter so only you could hear. “when i said bring your friends, i was not expecting a bunch of…dudes?”

you giggled, “surprised i’m not with a group of girls?”

“for some reason, it explains a lot,” he shrugs and you raise your eyebrows, asking him to explain without verbalizing it. “you aren’t… shy in the way a lot of girls are, i guess, i don’t know, you talk about your relationship problems with me. plus, we’re in the same outfit.”

you look him up and down, realizing he is yet another person you’ve stolen fashion inspiration from. you smack a hand over your mouth, “oh god, you too?” giggles threaten to slip through your palm, before you shrug and say, “i’m one of the guys, i guess.”

“ew,” he physically cringes, “never say that again.”

three guys approached behind chan and you first spot jisung, the one you didn’t meet at chan’s apartment. he looked the same, a mop of brown curls sat atop his head, big, thin frames on his face, a hoodie and baggy jeans on his body. he looked just as cute as the day you first saw him, like a chipmunk you’d spot outside of your living room window on a spring day.

he wasn’t sexy, he wasn’t massively muscular, he wasn’t six foot three or thirty years old— he wasn’t mingyu. no one could be.

“these are my friends,” chan pointed to each friend as he said, “jisung, jeongin and jihoon.”

“ah, the J’s!” you introduced yourself to the three of them, your groups quickly merging to create small talk. chan stood close to you, guiding your conversation with his roommates, you talked about the festival, what bands were playing, until you settled into a layer of comfort to speak freely. the surfside was definitely helping.

you quickly realized the three boys were more reserved, unlike chan– or they were at least not comfortable enough yet to cut through san and yeosang’s voices, who were quickly dominating the conversation with chan.

“the next band playing is really good,” jihoon finally interrupts, looking around the group with a gaze which didn’t seem shy, instead calculated, like he was waiting for the right moment to speak. he was shorter than everyone, long, black hair laid over his shoulders, you could see the muscles beneath the black tee he wore, nearly masked by the black jacket sat perfectly on his shoulders. he gave the vibe that he had his shit together– clean, healthy, confident. “do you guys want to stay? who are you here to see?”

“jungle is playing later,” you reply, “on stage B i believe, at eight? i want to see them the most.”

“TV girl is playing at six,” yeosang cuts in, warm brown hair that’s gotten noticeably longer was falling over his temples now, “still woozy plays in about an hour.”

“you like still woozy?” jeongin asked yeosang, as if hearing jihoon’s voice gave him the confidence to speak up himself. the two were just about the same height, yeosang was maybe an inch taller than jeongin. his face was insane, to say the least– sharp jaw, high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes that curved up ever so slightly at the edges. he was the other one out of the four that resembled an animal in the most gorgeous way, black hair laying across his forehead that made the shadows of his face deepen further. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a model, if not a fox turned human– you wondered if he had any interest in you.

“where have you been keeping them?” you say in chan’s ear, leaning closely into his side. chan chuckles, looking down at the ground, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie.

“i keep them locked in their rooms, they’re only allowed out during feeding time,” he jokes, a wide smile on his face, voice turning to a hushed whisper as he says, “stop ogling them, jisung will get jealous.”

“then jisung should do something about it,” you retort as you bring your gaze back to the group– jisung couldn’t see who you were looking at anyways, you still had your sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose.

“let him get a few more drinks in him, he will,” chan nods nonchalantly as he looks away from you. you rolled your eyes under the shades– you didn’t care either way, but the outright admittance of jisung needing alcohol to talk to you rubbed you the wrong way.

your group travels to another stage, watching a different group play while waiting for still woozy to start their performance. jisung trailed behind the group with jihoon, the two seemed to be a pair so far, then yeosang, san and jeongin had split off to the side. you walked between yunho and chan, three quarters of your surfside had already heated you up enough to where the bite of the air was more of a light nibble on your cheeks.

“i need another,” you said in san’s direction, wiggling your can that had little liquid left in it.

san frowns, “already?”

you threw the last bit of liquid back, swallowing it quickly, and handed it to san. “yes, please.”

he grabs the can from your hands and turns to the group, wearing a look of irritation even if he doesn't care at all– he’ll let the act go on for as long as he deems necessary. drama queen. “anyone else need another?”

chan and his roommates hadn’t gotten drinks yet, and yeosang needed a refill– leaving you alone with yunho, where you stood watching the random band playing on the stage.

“the curly headed one is interested in you,” yunho comments without looking at you, voice flat as he brings his beer to his lips to take a sip. it should catch you off guard how quickly he noticed without you and jisung having any interactions so far, but you were done with being inside yunho’s head.

you let out a sound of amusement instead, “and?”

“just letting you know,” he looks down at you, “it seems you know already.”

you shoot him a pointed look before turning back to the stage, the two of you falling into silence. your stomach grows warm, the drink you’d already chugged down had begun fulfilling its purpose– warming you up first and foremost, helping you forget how miserable you’d become second.

“i don’t know what to say to you to make things better,” yunho admits, keeping his focus on the band. his mouth twists to one side, discomfort sitting on his features, you two hadn’t really spoken since wednesday.

you came home the day you ended things with mingyu in tears, anger replacing every atom in your body as if you’d become a pot overflowing with boiling water– you lost it, all of your feelings were directed at both san and yunho. they were sitting on the couches in your living room, completely blindsided when you decided they alone were responsible for how your relationship with mingyu ended. both boys had fought you on it.

ace didn’t have it in him to mediate your argument, he had his own relationship issues to work through, instead he and yeosang watched the three of you yell at each other for minutes until you fully broke down. not once did either of them tell you to make up with mingyu, to reconsider their words, but instead they consoled you for the two week long relationship you were clearly grieving– it pissed you off even more.

after you had time to process the argument, you realized all you wanted was their approval– you wanted them to tell you to get back with him, you wanted them to like him as much as you did, as much as you do. for three days now you've been sitting with your anger, only giving curt responses around your house, spending most of your time in your bedroom, you considered not even coming today.

you needed to get out– you needed a boyfriend before thanksgiving.

“there’s nothing for you to say,” you shrug, then cross your arms over your chest. “even if i reached out to him now, i don’t think he’ll ever see me as anything other than an immature twenty two year old. it’s done.”

he sips his beer again. “you are an immature twenty two year old.” you snap your gaze up at him, ready to bite back, but he continues. “that’s what you’re supposed to be, this is how it should be.”

a dry laugh escapes you, one that lets him know there was nothing funny at all. “how it should be? at a music festival waiting for a guy to get the balls to speak to me?”

he speaks through an exhale, “at least this guy is your age, tiny.”

you step to the side, giving yourself space from him, not wanting to slip into a fit of anger and ruin the day for everyone, you know you will if you continue the conversation. your mind whirls as you keep your gaze locked on the stage, not hearing one beat of the drum nor a single strum of the guitar, ears ringing as you try to calm yourself down.

“i’m sorry,” he says as he steps closer, his voice quiet, only for your ears. “i didn’t think you’d be this hurt, i guess.”

“i came home bawling my eyes out and screamed at you,” you said, baffled, not fully believing him. you hadn’t argued over anything more serious than what you were having for dinner in years. “you didn’t think it hurt?”

“i’ll stop meddling,” he pulls his lips together, forming a tight line. you see the group of boys returning to where you stood from behind yunho, drinks in tow, you turn to face the stage again.

“you won’t have the chance to meddle again, i learned my lesson for good,” you say flatly, and he sighs. the sigh was both long and loud, he was truly defeated– he didn’t know how to handle you. you couldn’t comprehend why he felt the need to in the first place.

“we should head to stage C,” chan says as soon as he returns, san right on his tail to hand you your drink. you were grateful yunho didn’t have the time to continue the conversation. you slap a smile on your face and thank him for the drink before asking chan who’s playing at stage C.

chan smirks, “weezer.”

“oh, brother,” you laugh, “let’s go.”

you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or if you were starting to have a good time, but the time you spent watching weezer while you waited for still woozy to come on seemed to break up the dark cloud looming above you. chan stayed close, he was bleeding positive energy that you didn’t know if he was pushing onto you on purpose, or if it was just him. either way, the smile that sat on your face became more and more genuine, less forced as time went by.

by the time you made it to still woozy’s set, you were past the level of comfortably warm and leaning towards hot. you stopped at the bar again after weezer, you were just tipsy enough to buy all eight of you a round of shots– the plan was not to get drunk, but that seemed to be the direction the day was going in, who were you to stop it?

just before the set began, jeongin and yeosang had pulled your group by the wrists to fight through the crowd and get as close to the front as you could. you let yunho and san guide you into the mass of people, two walls of muscle and height to give you a path, the crowd didn’t bother you one bit. your smile was more than genuine now, you couldn’t wipe it off your face– this was a music festival, seeing bands you never would’ve thought of buying tickets for, a group of people gathered in one place that enjoyed the same music as you. you were already thinking of going to more.

swaying side to side, singing a song you’d heard on repeat in yeosang’s car at the top of your lungs, you almost didn’t catch the eyes that couldn’t leave you. attached to a mop of curly brown hair, behind massive lenses, a gaze of chocolate brown accompanied by a small smile seemed entranced by you. you smiled back when you noticed, then turned your head back to the band– jisung took that as an invitation.

walking up beside you, jisung didn’t say anything at first. his head nodded along to the song, curls bouncing across his forehead, fingers wrapped around a plastic cup. with a stomach full of vodka, you were almost excited– you wanted to encourage him, give him the confidence, tell him to say something.

but you didn’t– and jisung still said nothing after the entire song.

after the song ended, there was a moment of silence amongst the crowd, the inbetween waiting for the next song to play. you glanced around for your friends– yeosang and jeongin were mid conversation, yeosang’s body leaned into jeongin’s but not quite touching, his body language saying you weren’t the only one who found jeongin attractive. damn.

yunho and jihoon stood behind everyone, the height difference between the two almost made you giggle, where san and chan stood next to them. the four weren’t speaking, but holding their drinks and watching the performance instead, all shooting you a warm look when you caught their eyes.

you turned to jisung, “can you do me a favor?” he nodded, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “can you hold my drink while i take my jacket off, please?”

he nodded again and you handed him your can, slightly struggling to get your jacket off over your sleeves. when you got it off, you threw it over your forearm, and jisung handed you your can back.

“do you, uh– want me to hold your jacket?” he asked, his eyes wide and sparkling– his tone seemed unsure of his own words, but he still said them.

“no, no, don’t worry about it,” you beamed, “thank you.”

as the next song started to play, a few strums of the guitar woke up the crowd, screams erupting around you. one of the screams had come from yeosang, who had his hands shaped in an oval around his mouth, making his yell that much louder.

you giggled and turned back to jisung who was also smiling in yeosang’s direction, “he really likes still woozy.”

“i would’ve never guessed,” he says sarcastically, his smile never dropping. “you seem to like them, too.”

“i do, but not as much as yeo. he should be up at the barricade,” you point your chin in the direction of the front of the stage.

“i think jeongin should go with him,” jisung shrugs, “they seem to be a pair.”

“by the end of the night someone will have to rip yeo off of him,” you joke, and jisung laughs. a soft chuckle, but you sense a wall come down, another shred of confidence popping through his reserved demeanor. you smile.

“what about you?” jisung asks, eyes still moon-shaped, as if he was scared to ask the question.

your eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side, “what about me?”

“chan said you had a boyfriend, he isn't here?” jisung’s lips form a line as if he was scared to hear the answer, your face immediately mimics his, but for an entirely different reason. you didn’t think jisung knew about mingyu, unless chan filled him in and didn’t tell you. you hadn’t filled chan in on the recent developments concerning mingyu, either.

“i don’t have a boyfriend, i’m not seeing anyone,” you shake your head and turn to the stage. jisung felt the shift in mood, stepping forward, into your view.

“sorry if i overstepped,” he shook his head, “chan said–”

“chan didn’t know, doesn’t know, you're fine,” you give him a weak smile, and the conversation runs flat. you took the last swig of your surfside– you needed this feeling gone, as if mingyu never happened in the first place.

“do you want another drink?” jisung asks as soon as the can leaves your lips, “my treat.”

you give him a singular nod, and before you could process it, jisung was leading you through the pack of people. you didn’t tell a soul where you were going, you walked right through the wall of boys as if they were waiting for you to run off with jisung. where the crowd was more condensed, jisung took a pause, making you stop in your tracks behind him.

“gimme this,” he muttered as he grabbed your jacket and your empty can, then took your hand with his free one. “stay close to me.”

your cheeks flushed as you nodded, the heat that was already consuming your entire being only grew in temperature. maybe he’s the type that’s only shy at first. your eyes stayed trained on your linked fingers, his hands were soft, calluses on the tips of his fingers that laid over your knuckles.

“do you play guitar?” you asked as you made it to the outskirts of the crowd, jisung took a pause that had you flipping his hand over, inspecting the tougher skin atop his fingers.

“uh— yes,” you glance up, his cheeks pink, the ends of his curls lying along the frames of his glasses. “i make music, i’m studying composing, songwriting, all that stuff.”

“chan told me,” you smile as you let his fingers go, nearing the feeling of cuteness aggression the more you look at him. all you could muster was a breathy “that’s cool”.

his smile grew and he tugged on your hand again, rough fingertips laid on your knuckles once more as he pulled you towards the bar. behind it was a man who you, at first, couldn’t believe was a bartender— black hair that touched his broad shoulders, a slender figure with a muscular structure that seemed too curated for bartending to be his career. a black long sleeve shirt clung to every inch of him, baggy jeans that hung loose on his hips, an outfit you’d definitely be taking inspiration from.

his face was nothing short of beautiful, plump lips, a white smile that sparkled when he asked what you’d be drinking.

jisung turned to you with an eyebrow raised, a questioning look. you cleared your throat, “a surfside, please.”

“miller, please,” jisung nodded towards him and the bartender shot you another smile before he was opening your cans. you were mesmerized as he grabbed the bar key with nimble fingers, cracking the tab with practiced movements, a speed that told you maybe this was his full time career.

jisung paid as promised and you took your time making it back to stage C happily with small talk and a lazy stride, choosing to hang at the back of the crowd instead of fighting towards the middle where you stood before.

jisung’s presence had enveloped your mind quicker than you thought it would, once you broke the ice it was easier to talk to him, speaking as freely as you would with someone who’d been your friend way longer than just a day. you didn’t talk of anything personal, not school, your family, your friends, your interests, your intentions, but instead small talk that came too easily, standing close while you swayed to goodie bag.

it was comfortable— it wasn’t forced, it wasn’t staged, it wasn’t planned. it wasn’t even obvious that jisung was interested in you, there were no pickup lines, no quick-witted flirting, yet you knew and you might even like it. maybe what you need right now is simplicity.

when your friends came out of the crowd in laughter and giddy smiles, you felt lighter, the energy around you felt brighter, the air felt clearer, you almost forgot you walked into the venue miserable. with TV girl playing shortly at another stage, there was no time to stand and talk, you and jisung quickly slipped into the crowd of your friend group mid-conversation as if you never ran off in the first place.

“what’s your guys’ favorite song?” yeosang asked the group, bouncing on his feet as you approached the already formed crowd, jeongin at his side.

“the whole french exit album,” you were first to answer. “birds don’t sing, louise, lover’s rock, the blonde.”

“tiny’s a romantic,” you heard san announce, and it brings a smile to your face— whether it was sarcasm or a dig you didn’t care, maybe now you were a romantic. “i only know lover’s rock.”

“tiny?” jisung asks, turning to you, an eyebrow raised. “that’s you?”

“unfortunately,” you nod, “been tiny since the womb, practically.”

“fitting,” jisung smacks his lips together and flattens his brows in contemplation then quickly to understanding— you couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed.

jihoon turns to chan, “you listen to TV girl a lot, right?”

chan nods towards him, “you should know more than lover’s rock, i play their music all the time at home. better in the dark?” he glances around to empty stares, he raises his eyebrows with expectancy and sings, “the lighter makes a spark, but i look better in the dark.”

jisung, jihoon and jeongin all simultaneously release a dragged out “oh” in remembrance, and chan rolls his eyes. he turns to you, “they don’t remember shit. too much weed, they smoke.”

you giggle, then tilt your head to the side, an idea coming to mind. “did anyone bring any?”

jihoon shoots you a lazy smile, “of course i did, you smoke?”

you shake your head, “not particularly, but i’m down to.”

jihoon reaches into his pocket, pulling out a black leather wallet, several joints tucked into one of the folds. he plucks one out, wasting no time as he holds it between his fingers, your group tightens its circle around jihoon as if he was holding gold.

yunho eyed you from the opposite side of the circle, where you were standing between chan and jisung, he was between san and jihoon. his eyes were observing, debating, a pointed look that forced you to notice it. you shrugged him off, smoking at a music festival just felt right— you didn’t want or need him to parent you, even if you had been drinking already.

jihoon was quick to light the twisted end of the joint, the red hot flame of his black lighter was enough to color all of your faces an amber hue. you stood like kids, huddled around jihoon like he had a secret to tell, where he took three puffs of the joint to get it burning. your eyes widened as you watched his technique, how he blew on the end of the joint to keep it burning evenly, pink lips tightened to a perfect O shape– a gorgeous sight.

the circle opens up as you begin passing, a sweet melody in your ear and a pungent smell in your nose, forcing your body into moving to the beat. jisung, beside you, sways his hips in the same motion as yours, a fit of giggles erupting from your lungs as you move in unison. too focused on jisung, you didn’t realize chan was holding the joint out to you.

you inhaled slowly, you hadn’t smoked since the last time you were at the frats, that had been months ago. you knew the basics, you kept your hits of the joint small, especially since you had a few drinks in you, you were never really a smoker. socially, in the kitchen of a massive frat house, or on the balcony of the only person you consistently hooked up with at school, that only lasted just shy of a month.

the burn in your lungs and the cough that fought to break through your lips felt nostalgic, you felt so light you could float up to the clouded night sky. immediately immersed into a sense of calm, like stepping into a bath of warm water, you smiled as you passed the joint to jisung. every bone in your body told you you needed that.

your ears perked to the conversation happening around you, yeosang, san and jeongin in some sort of debate, the joint had made its way to yunho by now. you could feel everything slow down, your eyes hooding, sitting at half mast just from two hits.

“ah,” jisung tilts his head back in delight, “that strain fucks, hoon.” you couldn’t stop the small giggle from leaving you at fucks.

jihoon smiles, confident as ever, “right?” he looks around the group before he adds, “i grew it myself.”

san’s jaw drops as he takes the joint from yunho, “you grow it?”

“right in my backyard,” jihoon nods, “it’s better that way.”

you check out of the conversation, your focus back on the crowd, not a thought in your brain, yet instead paying attention to the hues of blue and pink that lay over the crowd like blankets. you could see backs of heads and nothing more, shaded eyes not quite reaching the stage, but the light show that cascaded over the mass of people was enough.

you almost didn’t notice the presence next to you, you hadn’t even realized you moved, as jisung planted his feet directly next to yours, your neck nearly snapped up in surprise.

“so pretty,” he says, eyes glazed over as they stared out into the crowd, his thoughts probably matched yours.

“the lights?” you asked, flipping your sunglasses atop your head so you could see clearer.

“you mainly,” he looks down to you and you meet his eyes, not missing the pink that kissed his cheeks, “but yeah, i guess the lights, too.”

your own cheeks flush– this was the first he was showing interest. you smile through a giggle, “that was smooth, jisung.”

“wanna get closer?” he asks you, reaching for your hand again before you had a moment to answer.

as he pulled you along, you asked, “are you sure you don’t want to keep smoking?”

he looks over his shoulder and it nearly takes your breath away, he’s so cute you think you’d follow him around all night, especially if he keeps looking at you like that. as if he’d go anywhere with you, as if he didn’t care about anything else, you saw his feelings in his eyes. he was into you. he smiles, “do you?”

“let’s go,” you nod your head and pull your sunglasses over your eyes again, headed behind jisung into the crowd that was packed like sardines. mumbles of ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ left him as he cut through people, keeping you close to him with a firm grip on your hand, you could feel the calluses on your knuckles so much more.

when you made it somewhat towards the middle, a pocket of space amongst the crowd, jisung finally stopped and turned to you for approval. you put your sunglasses atop your head again, tucking your hair behind your ears, your view was so much better now.

the music was louder, the lights were clearer, now it was just you and jisung– you weren’t sure if you were at the festival anymore or if you were up in the clouds. the only thing that could make this better would be if you could actually see the stage. you wish yunho had followed you.

as if he heard your thoughts, jisung’s voice was loud when he asked, “can you see?”

you shook your head, “the lights are so pretty, it doesn’t even matter.”

“you're going to think i’m crazy, don’t think i'm crazy,” he prefaces, bracing himself for rejection with a shy smile, “do you want to get on my shoulders?”

you laugh in disbelief, loudly, looking at him with wide eyes and jaw slack. he raises his eyebrows, “you’re tiny, right?”

“i am tiny but not like that,” you wave your free hand in front of you, “i don’t want to hurt you.”

he rolls his eyes with a cocky smile, “if you could see what was under the hoodie you wouldn’t be saying that.”

your eyes widen impossibly further, that was the last thing you expected to leave his lips. a smirk appears on your own, “oh, now you’re confident, huh?”

“is it working?”

“maybe.”

“then get on,” he squats down, your jacket still folded over his forearm but he’s careful not to let it touch the ground. you suck in a breath– this could go one of two ways, especially since you both drank and smoked, either you’ll have an incredible view or everyone will watch you fall to the dirt.

fuck it.

you swing a denim covered leg around his neck, slightly hopping up to straddle his nape. you giggle as you do, the action was almost sobering, the amount of focus it took you to balance. as he stood up your hands flew to his curls, the only thing you could think to grab onto to steady yourself, a slew of apologies leaving your lips after you accidentally tugged.

“jisung!” you yelled, “i didn’t know what else to grab.”

you could hear the shake of his shoulders as he laughed beneath your thighs, “i could make a terrible joke right now, but i’m not going to.”

it takes you a moment to catch on, but when you do, you laugh. “nothing but a man.”

“a man that has you on his shoulders,” he bites back, “enjoy the show.”

you finally looked up and the stage was finally clear– shrouded in blue light, the members visible, the music so loud– it was nothing short of exhilarating. the thought crosses your mind that maybe this was what yunho was talking about, being in your twenties and experiencing, you don’t know if you would have ever made it onto mingyu’s shoulders in the crowd of a TV girl concert. you guess you’ll never know, and for the first time since wednesday, the thought didn’t fill you with dread - you supposed you have vodka and weed to thank.

instead you screamed– an excited scream, for the band, for the show, for how fucking good their music is. definitely high, more than a little drunk and nearly seven feet in the air, you were positive your night couldn’t get any better. there was nothing better than this.

“hey!” you heard from beneath you, stealing your attention fully. jisung turns to the side, which turns you to the side, your entire friend group beneath you with wide grins and red, glossed over eyes.

“hey guys!” you yelled back, your smile reaching ear to ear, “i’m up here!”

“we see you,” yeosang is smiling, “how’s the view?”

“incredible,” you’re gleaming, “this is so fucking cool!”

san, yeosang and yunho all watch you with soft eyes, warmth in their bodies, you could read their emotions from their faces— superpowers only granted to those who have been friends for two decades. the other three boys stared at you with something like surprise on their faces, for that you could only guess what for, and you didn’t have the brain power to think that deeply about anything right now. you caught chan and yunho locking eyes, yunho shooting chan a dry nod as if to say ‘i told you so’.

you cocked your head to the side for a moment before the thought was gone. you take a sip from your surfside, this one going down much slower than the last ones, and ask the group, “do we have any more weed?”

“i don’t think you need any more,” san says through an amused smile, with a small shake of his head. he was done being a drama queen. “you’ll fall off the boy’s shoulders.”

“yunho’s here,” you shrug, “he’ll catch me. did you guys know yunho is actually spiderman?” a fit of giggles slips through your lips, your head falling back in laughter. it throws your balance off, making jisung take a step back, and the whole six of them lunge forward. you grab onto jisung’s curls again, stabilizing yourself, “whoa, sorry, i’m getting too comfortable up here.”

“you should get down,” yunho says with concern as the group walks forward, making something like a crowd around you and jisung without it being obvious it’s to catch you if you fall. “you’re fucked up, teens, you’ll fall.”

“boo,” you frown, throwing a thumbs down in yunho’s direction. “i like it up here. did you forget you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore?”

yunho’s jaw tightens, his eyebrows flattening. he chooses not to answer, instead yeosang steps in, saying your actual name in a warning tone.

“what?” you ask, dumbfounded, “i just wanna watch the show.”

you bring your attention back to the stage, one hand in jisung’s hair, mindlessly twirling chocolate covered curls around your finger as the other hand brings your surfside back to your lips. you missed the way yeosang, san and yunho shared a look, how the three of them began to realize where tonight was headed, none of them looking forward to it.

when TV girl’s set ended you were back on the ground, staying close to jisung’s side as you walked toward stage B, excitement flooding you that jungle was next.

“i can’t wait,” you bounced next to jisung, a wide smile on your face, “do you like jungle?”

“love jungle,” he nodded, “back on 74? banger.”

“my favorite is i’ve been in love,” you beam, “i know every word, i think there was a three day period where all i listened to was that song.”

“three days of one song?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows and eyes that looked like the moon hung above you, full and bright, “i would lose my mind.”

“we listen to music differently, though,” you counter, “i bet you hear a bunch of stuff i don’t. how it’s made, background stuff, lyrics, i just like it when a song sounds good.”

he smiles, “music’s heard differently by everyone, that’s the cool thing about it. i couldn’t live without it.”

you groan, “a world without music?” you emphasized your words dramatically, hopefully to humor the boy who knew more about music than you ever would, “that’s called hell.”

he laughs loudly, hunching forward a bit to catch his mouth with his hand, “i can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

“i’m serious!” you laugh too, accidentally stepping over your foot and bumping into his side, “sorry. but i am serious, i couldn’t live in a world where music didn’t exist.”

you step into the line for the bar without even thinking or discussing that you would, you didn’t know where everyone else had gone. something about the food trucks by the main entrance.

“have you been friends with them for a long time?” jisung asks, moving in front of you, and your eyes glaze over his figure. his clothes fit him so nicely, his hoodie perfectly oversized, jeans lying over the laces of his sneakers at just the right spot. “you seem like you’ve been friends forever.”

“ever since i can remember, they’ve been in my life,” you nod with a smile, head tilting to the side. your eyes felt heavy. “they’re my brothers, basically.”

“i only have one older brother,” his lips form a tight smile, “must be nice to have three.”

“four,” you correct him, stepping forward in line, “i have an actual brother, he’s my twin.”

“and you’re all friends?”

“our parents are close friends, so naturally we are, too,” you nod. wanting to change the subject, with a devilish smile you ask, “should we get shots?”

jisung lets out a huff of amusement through his nose, “can you handle shots?”

“i fear i might need shots,” you say through a breath, you felt like you were slowing down. if you slowed down any further, the sadness would creep back in. “i’ll get this round.”

he looks at you inquisitively, like he wanted to ask but didn’t know if he should. instead he waves you off and says, “nah, i’ll get them, if you need one so badly.”

you smile and lightly slap his bicep, “now you’re making me sound like an alcoholic, it’s just been a tough week.”

he nods as you step forward again, one group in front of you in line. “i can understand that, this is good timing, then. the festival, and me.”

your head snaps up to look at him like a deer caught in headlights, fumbling over your words, “no– i–”

“don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head, “let’s just have fun.”

you take a second to close your mouth, and nod with a weak smile. he orders you tequila shots and hard liquor drinks this time– go big or go home, his words. as you sipped through a tiny straw on your way back to stage B, you realized he was right, shots and a drink drink were much needed– go big or go home, indeed. your brain was even foggier as you approached the dark stage, jungle wasn’t playing just yet, but you could see small shadows of people setting up the stage from the back of the crowd.

“should we go up there?” you ask jisung, referring to the crowd, slurring your words ever so slightly.

the corner of his lips lifted up into a smile, his eyes glossed over just like your own, he’s keeping up with you. “i think we should definitely go up there.”

fingers linked again, pressing through bodies in the crowd, the rest of your friends weren’t a thought in your brain. a wide smile on your face, all you could think was jisung and jungle. he was the perfect person to rip you out of whatever funk you were in.

jisung got you both closer than you’d been the entire time you were at the festival, it was condensed but not as packed as the first twenty rows of people– you still had wiggle room. he tugged on your hand to bring you even closer to the stage, but you didn’t feel like being a sardine, you had pulled his back to keep you both in the spot you deemed perfect. he’d pulled his phone out to take a picture of the stage, most likely to send to one of his friends to let them know where you were, but you kept your phone in your purse, selfishly hoping they wouldn’t find you. you just wanted to be, here with jisung, watching the show together.

as the lights came on, screams erupted from around you, also from you and jisung. the crowd collapsed inward, pushing you into the people in front of you– a meek yelp left your lips as people behind you pushed into you. jisung was quick to grab your wrist and pull you in front of him, wrapping his arms around your front over your shoulders, laying one wrist over another in front of you.

you tilt your head up, fear still lingering in your eyes from almost getting crushed, “thank you.”

he gave you a tight lipped smile and you swooned. his hoodie was so soft, so warm, his arms wrapped around you made you feel safe, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. your back pressed to his front, your head laid back on his chest right under his chin, your fuzzy brain wouldn’t let you stop smiling. jungle opened with back on 74 and both you and jisung sang along with the rest of the crowd, swaying side to side, your heads tilted upward to watch the stage.

you weren’t careful of how much you leaned into him, you couldn’t, that power left you a drink and a shot ago. you completely relied on jisung’s strength to keep you held up as you relinquished the little core strength you had, your fingers on one hand gripping your jacket laid on his forearm, the other holding your drink. his body was sturdy, strong, it felt good pressed against you. your lips stretched to one side, the alcohol was hitting you more than you thought it would– from how often you’d been getting laid, you’d worked up something like a routine with your body, and here jisung was.

“you comfortable?” he asked in your ear, deep voice sending vibrations through your entire body.

you answered with a mhm that came deep in your soul, you were more than comfortable– you wanted him.

your mind travelled as jungle played through their setlist, three songs deep now, you began to wonder if jisung wanted you, too. you tested the waters, pressing your back into him a little harder, but he stayed solid. you rolled your head to the side, let your fingers travel up and down his cotton clad arm, humming along to the song playing.

his hands finally moved, fingers traveling down to your waist, to your hips, moving with you. a smile grew on your lips as you kept swaying to the music, body still pressed against him– you should be embarrassed with the amount of people around you, they could be watching you, eyes glued to the way your hips were moving on jisung. the thought was fleeting, you didn’t care– jisung, wanted you, too, that’s all that mattered.

jisung and jungle.

his head came down to reach your ear again, “you know what you’re doing, right?”

you smiled, an innocent one that he couldn’t see, “you said let’s have fun.”

he laughed from behind you, a quick chuckle that had your neck bending to look up at him. his smile was intoxicating if you weren’t already, his lips so pink and plump, you wondered what they tasted like. he caught your eyes, seeming like he could read your mind, but he caught your eyes as they dipped down to his mouth and back up at his own. that only meant one thing.

something unreadable crossed his face before he was leaning down, attaching his lips to yours. his speed took you by surprise, as if he mentally said fuck it, but you were even quicker to reciprocate. opening your mouth ever so slightly you deepened the kiss, warmth spreading across your body, momentarily giving you reprieve before the awkward angle and the urge to have more of him consumed you.

your drink fell to the dirt before your hands came up to cup his cheeks, body completely turning to face him so that your front pressed to his instead. his hands came to your hips again, planted firmly against your jeans, the tips of cold pinkies slipping underneath your hoodie, the chill of his fingers making you shiver.

it was electric– it was exactly what you needed. your favorite band playing in the background, kissing a boy you’d only met today, this is what yunho was talking about. this was being twenty two, living, experiencing, doing things for the fuck of it… you were starting to hate when he was right.

“hey,” he said between kisses, making you pull away, catching your breath. a hand came up to wipe at your wet bottom lip as he pressed his curl covered forehead against yours, your breaths still coming out uneven. his eyes were darker, even more glazed over, you wondered how that was even possible. he smiled, that same smile that just did you in moments prior, “i like you.”

you didn’t miss a beat as you said, “then keep kissing me,” and found his lips again.

he took a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head back, tongue slipping through your lips. you moaned, not a care in the world for the people around you. you would’ve asked him to take you in a port a potty if you weren’t interrupted a moment after.

“damn,” you wouldn’t have bat an eye if it didn’t come from a voice you recognized. chan was giggling as he got closer to you, “i don’t know how we even recognized you, if you got any closer you might’ve merged into one.”

you literally jumped, cheeks flushing as if you were a child getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. chan wore the widest smirk on his red cheeks and you couldn’t help but scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. a grumble left your lips, “cockblocker.”

following him were the rest of the boys one by one, slipping through spaces in the crowd to take their places around you as if they’d been searching for you. out of breath, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed as you and jisung took a step closer to one another again. you caught his eye, he wore the same look you did– horny, frustrated, disappointed.

after your shared look you bit your lip out of annoyance, then your eyebrows shot to your hairline as you brought your empty palms out in front of you. you looked up to jisung, “where did my drink go?!”

jisung threw his head back in laughter before he pointed to the ground, your now empty cup crushed and covered in dirt. you pouted, “i dropped it?”

“you don’t even remember?” he was still giggling, hand covering his mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“here,” chan said, pushing his cup into your hand– whiskey, neat. you stared at the cup in your hand, face immediately falling, eyebrows furrowing and not because you didn’t like whiskey. you looked back up to chan and his eyes widened, hand lurching forward to grab it from your hands. “my bad, i’m sorry, ohmygod.”

another drink replaced its spot in your hand, a surfside, freshly cracked, still cold. you looked up to yunho in front of you, the one who put it in your hands, and he gave you a warm smile. “better, right?”

“much, thank you,” a smile replaced your frown as you took a sip, body whipping around to watch jungle again. a heavy hand rested on your shoulder, yunho standing directly behind you.

he bent down to your ear, much like how jisung did minutes ago, his voice lowered as he said, “pretend we’re not even here.”

you thanked him with your eyes, body moving before you could process it, skipping to your spot in front of jisung again, where he immediately laid his arms over your shoulders. you hung your head forward, looking around for your group, jeongin and yeosang were holding hands now, san and chan standing too close for that to be nothing, yunho and jihoon silently watching the band.

you smiled to yourself– despite being annoyed by their interruption, chan damn near pulling you off of jisung, you liked this. you liked chan’s friends being with yours, a blend of people you never would’ve expected hanging out, and enjoying it on top of it all. you wouldn’t mind if you did this more.

as the familiar tune of i’ve been in love reverberates throughout the crowd, you gasp. “jisung!” you exclaim, your smile massive as you look up at him, “they’re playing it!”

he beams, eyes full of warmth as he looks down at you, “they knew you were here.”

you start rapping along, head leaning back onto jisung’s chest. to your surprise, he raps along with you, the two of you going word for word with the band. you looked up to him with shock written all over your face, the two of you getting louder as realization set in, as the song continued. you couldn’t help the stupid smile that you couldn’t wipe off your face, not that you tried– not that you even wanted to try.

as the song nears its end, you thought over yunho’s words again. pretend we’re not even here.

if they weren’t here, you never would’ve stopped kissing jisung– you already missed his lips on yours. you tilted your head up, doe eyes to doe eyes, jisung was already staring back down at you. you smiled as you glanced down to his lips, a question on your own, one you didn’t have to ask because he wanted it, too.

warm and soft, already slick with his spit, you could focus on how he felt this time instead of your drunken need overpowering your senses. with newfound clarity, the outcome was just as damning, getting lost in jisung’s lips was just as easy as the first time. keeping a loose hold on your can, you swung your body to face him without breaking the kiss, your other arm wrapping around his shoulder.

“you’re so hot,” he mumbles into your lips, hands traveling up to your waist, beneath your hoodie. a chill racked through you as a soft noise left your lips, too gone to answer, too lost in the way he made you feel, the temperature of his fingertips against your skin.

“leave with us, stay over tonight,” a statement that was also a question, jisung’s voice was heavy, a depth to it told you he needed you just as bad.

“maybe,” you kissed him again, your voice airy, not here nor there. your surroundings had left you— it was only you and jisung in that moment, that’s all you cared about. you couldn’t think about after, you couldn’t think about mere minutes from now, all you could think was how you never wanted his lips to leave yours.

you missed how yunho watched from his peripherals, how his eyebrows flattened, how his lips formed to a thin line. he couldn’t focus on the band in front of him, he knew you loved them, which made him love them, too, yet you weren’t even paying attention. yunho was dumbfounded— with you, with himself, with his own emotions— he didn’t know what to do.

after decades of knowing you, his bright eyed, favorite girl, he didn’t think there was this much of you left to figure out. he��s watched you grow up, he himself grew up alongside you, he’s seen you through every phase, every change, but nothing could’ve prepared him for this one.

random hookups throughout high school, college, none of that actually mattered— you already consumed his mind day and night, but after you started dating, he picked himself apart piece by piece, hoping to realize what you didn’t see in him.

yunho looked to his left, yeosang was kissing jeongin now. that didn’t take him by surprise.

yunho looked to his right, san was looking at chan with a hunger yunho had never seen in his eyes before. that should've been more surprising than it was.

in front of the two boys were you and jisung, that made yunho want to crawl out of his skin. he saw you kissing him moments prior, he even told you to do so in other words, for a moment yunho thought maybe he was a masochist. a glutton for pain, for torture, whatever this feeling was as he stared at you, eyes closed, fingers tangled in that boy’s hair.

yunho had to let go. he’d already fucked up, he’d already let too many of his feelings slip through the reins of his self restraint, he’s already endured you screaming in his face once, he’d die before he hurt you enough to do it again. he told himself this is just another phase, another change, you’ll come out of it smarter, more experienced, different. he can’t help but be a little scared that you’ll actually succeed in finding a boyfriend.

as your face detaches from jisung’s to take a breather, yunho can see your glazed over eyes, your expression that read all of nothing, you’d been drinking for hours now without a morsel of food in your stomach. he’s seen you drunk, hammered, hurled over a toilet for hours on end— but you looked happy, which you haven’t in days, yunho didn’t want to interrupt but he didn’t want you throwing up in the dirt, either.

yunho was at a crossroads. as jungle wrapped up their set and you unwrapped yourself from jisung’s embrace, your face changed, the knit of your eyebrow told him something wasn’t right. he was quick on his feet, two long strides had him at your side, asking you what’s wrong.

“i dunno,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing, your free hand coming up to your face, cold palm pressed against your hot cheek. even through your mask of inebriation, he knew that look, he could read it all over you— this wasn’t about the boy, this was about mingyu.

“let’s go home,” yunho bent down, level with your face to look into your eyes, he could see the tears before they formed. it put a knot in his stomach.

“okay,” your voice was strained, raw. yunho felt like he’d been punched in the gut. he should've told you not to smoke, especially after drinking so much, he shouldn’t have brought you that last drink— he should’ve warned you that drinking wouldn’t fix anything.

he looked up to jisung whose eyes were wide, eyebrows raised in confusion and concern. his voice was raised in pitch as he asked, “is she okay?”

yunho nodded quickly, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed to say she’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. your face hit his chest and he wished he could physically stop his heartbeat from quickening. years of loving you, spending time with you, being close to you, touching you— he always reacted the same.

chan bounced over, worry in his voice, “hey, hey, hey,” he placed his hand on your back and it took every ounce of strength yunho had to not pull you away, but since chan is your friend, he’d allow it. chan leaned closer, “you okay?”

you picked your head up to look at him, yunho couldn’t see your face but the look on chan’s told him enough, his eyebrows furrowed even further with worry. “did jisung—”

“no,” you sniffed, “it’s not jisung, just needa go home,” you slurred, shaking your head, “drank too much.”

chan, who had heard the whole story from san earlier while waiting in line for the bar, looked up to yunho in understanding. for only knowing you a short time, he seemed to know a lot about you. yunho didn’t have the time to dissect the thought.

yunho lifted his head up, yeosang and san already looking at him, at you, concern living in the crinkle between their eyebrows. yeosang stepped forward and yunho shook his head, knowing you’d be mortified in the morning if this became a bigger deal than it needed to be.

“you ready to go home?” yunho tipped his chin upward in the direction of his two friends, keeping you tucked under his elbow in front of him.

san and yeosang nodded silently, he watched as yeosang pecked jeongin goodbye, as san began walking away without another word to chan. for you, they’d do anything, they’d drop anything— it didn’t matter.

“will you guys be okay getting home?” chan asked yunho, shoulders back, chin tilted up.

“yeah, you?” yunho answered, already turning on his heel, barely giving chan time to respond. he needed you out of here, out of the crowd, he needed to get you air.

“tell her to call me when she feels better,” chan calls behind you, and san responds, but yunho barely hears him.

the group of them shuffled through the crowd— why were they so deep in, anyways?— tucked under his left armpit, yunho was basically dragging you through the dirt. you were slumped into his side, mumbling something, feet barely carrying you. he debated putting you on his back.

“what are you saying, tiny?” yeosang asked, just a step behind you, closer to your ear than yunho was.

“my jacket,” you said a little louder, strain on your voice, “jisung has it.” a sob leaves your lips and yunho almost smiles, the fact that your jacket was the icing on the cake is so you. even completely done up you stayed unapologetically yourself.

“should we call ace?” san asked from yunho’s other side, his eyebrows still knitted together.

“what the hell is ace gonna do?” yunho replied, his tone curt, “let him have his weekend with reia, he doesn’t need to know. tiny will be fine.”

as you got to the outskirts of the crowd, yunho was bending down in front of you, his arms reaching behind him to hoist you onto his back. you were a deadweight, head slumped over his shoulder, arms limp around his neck. he carried you through the venue towards the main entrance without a word.

you groaned when you finally reached the parking lot, followed by, “yun, i don’t feel good.”

“ah, fuck,” he muttered under his breath, coming to a stop. “can you wait until we get home?”

“put me down now,” you said hurriedly, fear apparent in your tone, and yunho bent down right away, standing back up when your sneakers hit the pavement. you crouched down, yeosang had caught it before yunho did— he stood behind you, your hair wrapped into a ponytail in yeosang’s fist as you emptied the contents of your stomach where yunho had just been standing.

the four of you didn’t say another word until you were five minutes away from your house, the drive spent in silence— you’d spent it with your head halfway out the window, your sunglasses halfway down your nose, eyes shut. if it weren’t for the tears that streamed down your face every now and then, yunho would’ve assumed you were already knocked out.

“should i call him?” you asked the car, everyone already knew who, eyes still closed as you sat back in the cushioned seat. “i miss him, jisung was nothing like him. i wish he was there.”

yunho was lucky you couldn’t see him— he physically winced at your drunken words. san eyed him from the passenger seat, but he paid his friend no mind.

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, teens,” yeosang said calmly from the backseat, sitting close to your side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. yunho watched as you laid your head on him, you didn’t answer him— maybe you fell asleep. he hoped you did.

san carried you inside your house bridal style and laid you on your unmade bed, but yeosang was the one who had dressed you for bed. it became his responsibility the few times he’s had to do it— an unspoken rule amongst you.

after a hot shower, yunho decided to check on you once more before heading to the guest room for bed. you were sitting over the side of your bed, eyes closed, chugging water from the bottle he’d placed on your nightstand. he only peeked his head in, but you caught him.

“yunho?” you asked weakly, your voice small.

he cursed under his breath, but he inched forward, coming into view. he looked around, clothes were strewn about your floor, clothes hanging out of the hamper— he didn’t realize until then how upset you really were. “you okay, teens?”

you mumbled a mhm then laid back on your sheets, head falling onto your pillows. you turned your head to look at him, eyes crescents, “why can’t i find anyone that’s good for me?”

yunho sighed and walked forward, sitting at the edge of your bed. “you will.”

“kissing jisung didn’t make me feel any better about mingyu,” you paused, yunho didn’t know if you’d continue. your lip trembled, “he was good for me.”

yunho pulled his lips into a line— as much as he hated hearing it, if that's how you felt, he wouldn’t argue with you anymore. “why don’t you try calling him tomorrow?”

you whined, then closed your eyes, pulling your duvet over your body, up to your neck. “i’m tired of being mad at you.”

yunho smiles at that— “i’m sorry i made you mad at me.”

“will you stay with me tonight?”

yunho’s eyes shoot open, his lips parting, his mind running a mile a minute. “what?”

“please,” you opened your eyes a little wider, they were still glassy— he was scared you might cry again if he said no, not that he wanted to say no.

he couldn’t ask why, he couldn’t ask any questions at all. as you pulled up the corner of your duvet, in his tee shirt, all he could muster was “okay.”

wanna go on the next date?

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags: @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy @yusalterego @velvetring00 @minvxq @moonlightgrleric

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chaosartic · 3 months ago

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A furry surprise | AA23

word count: roughly 1k

warning: fluff, pet names, slightly suggestive at like one point

summary: You’re finally able to give Alex his birthday present. But what do you give an F1 driver? Correct, a kitten.

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEX ALBON! And I’m continuing with my small (full season) project. I finally redid my masterlist so now everything is sorted correctly.

You’re not panicking, why would you? It’s not like you were picking up your boyfriend from the airport today. But that’s not where the anxiety comes from. No, it’s because of something else. Due to your tight work schedule you weren’t able to be there during the race weekend and his birthday. You remember the look in his eyes when you told him the news. Yes, he was upset but it was ok, at least that’s what he told you. You’re already at the airport waiting for the plane to land, alongside Alex you are also picking up George. Since he helped you organize your boyfriend’s birthday present you offered to drive him to wherever he needs to be after the long flight.

You and Alex got together about six months ago so it was the first time that you have to get him a birthday present. When that realization fully settled in you started panicking. What does a Formula One driver need that he couldn’t get himself? For sure not a new watch or fancy clothes. He can just buy those himself whenever he needs. So you turned to his best friend for advice. After a lot of back-and-forth and thinking you finally found the perfect gift, at least that’s what you hope.

You know how much he loves his pets and how much he misses them whenever he leaves Monaco. Nowadays it wasn’t uncommon for him to stay at your place and since you don’t reside in Monaco or anywhere near there he sees them less than normally. Sure that wasn’t the long term idea but for now the long distance has to work. The birthday present idea, get him a pet that stays at your place. So whenever he visits you and work drags you away half the day he has some company to spend the time with.

“There you are!” the excited voice of your boyfriend rings through the almost empty airport. You are immediately pulled into his warm embrace, a small sigh leaving your lips having missed being in his arms. Your head is resting comfortably on his shoulder taking in the familiar scent that is just purely him. “Alright love birds leave that for later in the bedroom,” George jokes, “someone promised me a ride.” You reluctantly left Alex’s arms and gave George a quick hug, congratulating him to his podiums.

You dropped George off after a short ride. Before that he assured you again though that the gift was a good idea and that Alex would love it. However, the closer the two of you got to your apartment the anxiety started coming back. What if he thought it was too much? What if he didnt like her? Before you could overthink it too much Alex turns towards you, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh. It was unusual for you to drive but every now and then, especially after a long flight, he enjoys being a passenger princess. “So happy to see you again sweetheart,” he says, a permanent smile on his face.

“Baby you know that I love you, right?” you start carefully. “Of course I do,” he answers with a slight confusion visible. “Can you promise me not to be mad at your present? No matter what it is.” The request shocked him visibly. Why would you request that from him? What was this present? “Sweetheart of course,” he starts, “but now I want to know even more what you got me.” The anxiety in your stomach settles down a bit at his words. His hand is moving small circles on your thighs in hope to bring you comfort.

The car ride was over sooner than you probably want. Alex didn’t hesitate a second to lean over the center console and kiss you. His lips moving slowly against yours having missed this a lot. After you both pull away he gets his stuff out of the trunk. He takes your hand in his, guiding you to the apartment. He tries to hide it but his excitement is clear.

The apartment was dark when you entered it. Upon turning on the light both of you saw a little furry ball rushing around. “What was that?” His voice was high pitched. His eyes sparkling with excitement and love already. You don’t answer him, instead you walk after her. “Alex, meet May,” you introduce her. The little tuxedo kitten is now resting comfortably in your arms. Alex squealed a little before rushing over to the both of you. “Your birthday present,” you confirm even though he already guessed that in his head.

One of his hands is resting on your upper arm, the other stroking the kitten slowly. “But… but why?” he asks, still confused. “It’s stupid really. But I know how you miss yours whenever you’re here,” you start a blush now creeping up in your cheeks, “thought you might want one here too to keep you company when I work.” Now that you say it out loud it sounds like a stupid idea.

Before you can overthink it again his voice calms you down. “I love this and you and her.” His eyes are still sparkling with love and excitement. He carefully takes the kitten out of your arm and presses a small kiss on her tiny head. He put her down on the ground before pulling you into his arms. He kisses you full of passion again. “Thank you so much, I love you both so much.”

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I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is appreciated!

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #alex albon x reader #alex albon #alex albon fic #alex albon imagine

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mattslilies · 6 months ago

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✩ criminologist!reader - matt asks her to move in with him ✩

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you spent most of your time at matt's house. that was no lie. you loved to be around him, even when you weren't right near each other. you both enjoyed the knowledge of each other's presence.

you spent a lot of time with nick and chris, given that they were always over at matt's place. they had only just recently moved into separate apartments, and of course, you wouldn't dream of not having them over.

you'd become so close to all three of them, and there were times that matt would text you, asking what you're up to, only to find out you were out shopping with nick, or driving with chris to go get food.

he'd never felt so confident and comfortable with a choice in a partner, and he just had a good feeling about you.

he couldn't deny how good it felt to walk through his door after filming, or hanging out with his brothers, or just generally being out, and seeing you there. and also knowing that if you weren't there when he got back, you would be home soon.

he had started referring to you coming over as you coming home. that's when he knew.

he wondered if you considered it your home too. he hoped you did, considering that you were almost never at your own, always opting to be around matt.

your anniversary was coming up, and matt had the perfect gift to add to the few he was already giving you. but this one he would give you early.

you were more than surprised when you came back later that day to find a small, thin, box with a bow on it, your name scribbled in matt's handwriting on the placard.

"matt?" you picked up the box, wandering around the apartment, attempting to find him.

"yeah? what's up?" he wandered out of his room, his hair a complete mess. it was obvious that he'd fallen asleep, only being woken up by the sound of you opening and closing the door behind you.

you held up the box. "what's this?"

he smiled at you. "an early anniversary present. go on, open it."

you did, suspicion clear in your eyes as you unraveled the bow and lifted the lid of the box. matt just continued to watch you with a fond look in his eyes.

your mouth fell into a small "o" shape as you saw the silver key sitting in the box, a short note attached to it that read "move in with me?"

you let out a shocked laugh, taking the key out of the box and smiling at him.

"so?" he watched you, a little anxiety in his eyes, waiting on an official answer.

"yes! oh my god, i thought you'd never ask!"

taking the key from your hand and swiping your car keys off of the living room table, he quickly attached the two, placing it on his key hook by the door.

his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you into a hug that quickly turned into a passionate kiss.

"perfect. i'll help you pack this weekend."

you smiled, completely giddy with love and happiness, knowing you now shared a home with the person you called home.

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a/n - just a little thought that popped into my mind, and here's a fic on it! hope you liked!

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #mattslilies

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sydwritess · 21 days ago

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Monza Mistake

Kimi Antonelli x fem!reader

Summary: Kimi was having a good weekend in Monza until FP1, where he took a bad crash. After that, he changes, feeling like he lets everybody down.

First Person POV

Warning: swearing

Kimi was over the top, excited to race in Monza. He even invited his whole family to watch him race. Right now, I was standing near the fence, separating the track from the stands, watching Kimi drive around with his dad, holding a big Italian flag behind him.

They made one full lap around the track before pulling near the garages and getting out.

"Oh, Kimi, sono cosi fiero de ti quindi!" His mom said, running up to him and hugging him tightly.

"Grazie, mama." He said, hugging back.

"You are going to do wonderful son." His dad said, patting him on the back. His family went off, exploring the paddock.

Kimi stood there, his arms in his pockets, starring off into the abyss.

"You okay?" I ask him.

"Yeah. Just nervous." He said, sighing.

"Your going to do great. I get its nerve wracking." I said, he nodded. "For now, just focus on dinner with your family." I said, he smiled.

"I will. Are you going?" He asked.

"What? No, it's your family. I don't want to-"

"Please. It will be fun!"

"Okay, if you insist." I said.

"Yes!" He said, hugging me.

"Tonight at 6, at our house. My mother is cooking." He said.

"Okay, I will see you then." I smiled.

"Great." He smiled back. The rest of the day went normally, press all around. Pre-race interviews for tomorrow. Team meetings, the works.

"Will I still see you tonight?" He asked as we walked to our cars.

"Yeah, of course. I will see you there." I said smiling.

"Perfect, I can't wait to see you." He said.

"Your seeing me now aren't you?" I teased.

"You know what I mean." He said, laughing a bit. We both said our goodbyes. I had walked through the hotel, walking to my room, and I got ready for dinner. I put on black jeans, and a black crop top. I straightened my hair. Then I got my shoes and my car keys, and left.

I eventually got to Kimi's house. I barely got out of the car when I saw Maggie running down the driveway.

"Y/n! You came!" She screamed, wrapping her arms around me.

"Of course I did! How are you?" I ask, crouching down to her level.

"I'm better now that your here. Come on, I got a new game to show you!" She said, grabbing my hand and dragging me up the driveway.

I followed behind her through the door where.

"Guess who came over!" Maggie said with excitement. Kimi got up and came over to us.

"Wow, already stealing my girlfriend, yeah?" He said to Maggie.

"She likes me better anyway." Maggie said, pointing to herself. Kimi just laughed.

"How are you?" Kimi asked, stepping by Maggie to hug me.

"I'm good." I said, hugging back.

"Will you please play a game with me?" Maggie said, tugging my arm.

"She will Mag's let her step into the house, yeah?" Kimi said.

"Okay." Maggie said slowly. We went to the table and sat with Kimi's parents.

"Y/n, dolce! How are you?" His mom said, coming up to hug me.

"I'm good how are you?"

"Good, good." She said happily, sitting down across from me.

"Y/n! You need to try my brownies I made!" Maggie said, running to the kitchen. She ran back quickly holding the treat in my face.

"Oh, it's very good." I said, taking a bite of it.

"See I told you." Maggie pointed at her brother.

"Maggie why don't you go play in your room, si?" Marco said. Maggie went up to her room quickly.

"You could have said it was bad you know?" Kimi said.

"Awe, I didn't want to hurt her feelings." I backed. He laughed.

"Well, if she ever ruins pasta, she will no longer be invited to the paddock." He said, laughing. We talked more about the race.

Elisabetta went to go cook dinner, and Maggie ended up watching TV.

"This is so good!" Maggie said, melting into her seat when she took a bite of pasta.

"Your mother always does good. Part of why I married her." Marco joked. Elisabetta gave him a stern look. "And- and you are kind." Marco said, stuttering over his words. We finished dinner and it was almost time for me to leave.

"Y/n, you should spend the night." Maggie said, hugging my waist.

"I will see you tomorrow don't forget." I said, crouching down.

"Can I go with you?" She said, hugging me.

"I think your parents would be very sad about you leaving." I said.

"Okayy." She sadly said.

"Don't worry. You will see her at the track yeah?" Kimi said. Maggie went back into the living room.

"I think I lost you to her." He said, letting out a small laugh.

"Don't worry. She is cute and all but you still have me." I laughed.

"I will see you tomorrow." He said, giving me a hug goodbye.

"Yes, I will see you." I said, hugging back. Then leaving.

Me and Kimi were in the Mercedes garage, he was going over some last minute things with his engineers.

"Y/n! Y/n! Your here!" A voice said behind me. I turn to see Maggie entering the garage.

"Hi Mag's!" I said, giving her a hug.

"I have to go. Will you see us later?" She asked.

"Of course I will. You be sure to find me okay?" I say.

"Oh I will." She said, then walked out of the garage.

"You ready?" I ask Kimi as he walks to me.

"Ready as I'll ever be. Excited." He said smiling.

"You'll do great. I'm sure of it." I said.

"Thank you." He said, he got pulled away by one of his engineers and got into his car, lining up at the starting line. Everybody got out, getting into their spots, and finally the lights went off. The drivers rushed off down the track fast.

Kimi was doing great. Around 10 minutes in, he started going fast around a turn and ended up sliding off the track, taking a hard hit to the barriers.

"Oh my god!" I said, looking at the computer in front of me.

"Kimi, you okay? Are you okay?" Wolff asked quickly.

"Fuck. Yeah. Fuck, sorry." He said

"Kimi, all good. All good Kimi." Wolff answered back. The safety car went out to the track. The medic team ran out to his car. Luckily he got out okay, but needed help walking. He reached the garage, people tried to talk to him but he just shoved them off.

He was in the medical center for a while, getting all sorts of tests done, I was in the hallway when I saw the doctor come out, shutting the door quietly.

"Excuse me, doctor." I said, he turned to me. "Um, how is he?" I asked quietly.

"He unfortunately has a concussion. But, breathing on his own." He said with a half smile. "He has asked for no visitors." He said.

"That's it? Why?" I asked.

"A couple of bruised ribs, but he is okay. He seems pretty shook up. All we can do is request his needs." He says, then walks by me.

I pull out my phone to text him, but my notifications get flooded with news articles.

'Kimi Antonelli crashes at home GP race.'

'Kimi Antonelli has a big fallout in Monza GP'

'Kimi Antonelli has a serious crash at the start of Monza GP'

"Jesus." I mumble to myself. I hear quiet footsteps behind me, turning around I see Kimi's family.

"Hi." I say quietly. "Um- he said, he doesn't want anyone with him." I said. All the sudden Maggie ran up to me, hugging me tightly while crying.

"Oh Mag's, he's going to be okay. I promise." I said, crouching down and rubbing her back.

"Is he hurt?" She asked, her lips quivering.

"He's okay. He's just feeling a bit tired right now."

"Are you sure?" She asks, looking at me.

"I'm sure." I said, nodding. "Look, why don't you, go into the garage, maybe you can sit there while your brother rests." I said, she nodded and left with her parents.

'Are you okay? Do you need anything?' I text Kimi.

'No.' He types back.

'Just, let me be. Tell my parents I'm fine.' He types. I nod to myself. I sat down on a bench in the hallway, leaning my head back against the wall. I sat there for a good thirty minutes, doctors running in and out of his room.

Once the doctors all left the hallway, I went into his room quietly.

"Kimi?" I say, seeing him laying face down on the bed. I walk over and put a hand on his back, rubbing it gently.

"Are you okay?" I ask. He shakes his head no.

"Do you want your parents to come in?" I ask.

"I can't- I can't face them after... after what I did." He said, his voice breaking.

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was out of your control."

"I let them down." He said, there was a moment of silence.

"There worried about you. Especially Maggie."

"I can't. It will hurt her to much." He said.

"Okay. Do you want me to stay with you?" I asked. He nodded. We sat there in silence, his heart monitor beeping. We didn't talk, just sat there. Which was all he wanted. Doctors came in and out again for another good thirty minutes, before Kimi spoke up.

"Are they disappointed in me?" He asks.

"No, they are worried though."

"I don't care about that. It was my home race." He said, he flips over so he's lying on his back. I saw his tear stained pillow.

"Oh baby. It's okay." I said, lightly hugging him.

"I just can't believe I did that." He said, crying on my shoulder.

"It's going to be okay. I swear."

"Do you think they could face me?" He asks.

"They could. I think Maggie is most worried about you." I said.

"Can you get them?" He asked. I nodded, and waked out into the hallway, walking out to the Mercedes garage.

"How is he?" Marco asked first.

"He's better, sad." I said, they gave me a look. I sighed. "He's worried you are disappointed in him." I said slowly.

"Oh my." Marco said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We would never be disappointed." He said quietly.

"That's what I said."

"Can we go see him?" Elisabetta asked.

"You can, he actually asked if he could see Maggie first. If that's okay." I said. They both nodded and me and Maggie walked down to the medical center.

"Okay, a few things before we go in." I said, standing in front of the door. She nodded. "You can hug him, if he wants, but just try not to touch him. He's in a lot of pain." I said, I noticed she starting tearing up.

"Oh honey it's okay." I said, hugging her. She latched to me like she wanted me to carry her. "Want me to carry you?" I asked with a smile. I felt her nod. I lifted her, and walked slowly into Kimi's room, shutting the door behind me.

"See? He's okay." I said, she started crying more. "He's perfectly fine Mag's, look." I said, bringing her closer to the bed.

"Mag's there's no need to cry. I'm here." Kimi said.

"You scared me." She cried out.

"I'm sorry. I know I did amore." He said.

"Do you want to sit with him?" I ask.

"I don't want to hurt him."

"Okay, we can sit next to him." I said, pulling a chair next to his bed. siting her down on my lap.

"I'm okay. I promise." Kimi said in a whisper.

"Can you come home tonight?" She asks.

"I will. And when we get home we can lay on the couch and watch movies, yeah?" He asks, she nodded and wiped her tears away, leaning her back into me.

"And when your done with the movies, you can cook him some of your amazing brownies." I whispered. Maggie and Kimi got talking for a while, Kimi trying to cheer her up as much as possible.

"How about you go with mama and papa, go explore while you still can." Kimi said, reaching out for her hand.

"Okay." She said, getting up.

"Why don't you wait in the hall. I'll be right out." I said, she nodded and went out in the hall, closing the door behind her.

"I can't believe it." He said, rubbing a hand over his face. "I scared her a lot." He said.

"It's okay. She's better now. She knows your okay." I said, grabbing his hand.

"Thanks for coming to visit." He whispered.

"I always will." I said, leaning down to kiss him.

"I'll be back after I walk her out. Just, get some rest. Please?"

"I will. Thank you. I don't- know, what I'd do if you didn't come in." He said.

"Your welcome. You know I'm always here for you." I said. He gave me another quick hug. I then walk out, taking Maggie back to her parents.

After I went back to Kimi's room, and we spent the rest of the day talking, mostly reassuring him that everything is going to be okay.

Hey loves! Hope you like this one! Comment to be added to the tag list!

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sonyaheaneyauthor · 1 month ago

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Trump seems to be finally realising that Putin thinks he’s an idiot

Let’s hope that The Donald is as mad as hell, and will put the boot in where it will hurt Putin the most.

By Charles Moore.

With the peace negotiations poised to re-start, Russia launched a massive drone and missile strike against Ukraine this weekend. This capped a week that has seen continuous attacks against civilian targets. The Kremlin insists, of course, that Russia is attacking military targets, but even the most cynical Russian supporters would choke on the idea that every hospital and school in Ukraine is full of tanks and missiles. Even President Trump seems to have eventually concluded that Putin is taking him for a fool, after his vitriolic outburst on Sunday against the Russian leader.

On Sunday the US president ranted that he “does not like” what Putin is doing, and called him “absolutely crazy”. To add fuel to the fire, Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov suggested in response that Trump was suffering from “emotional overload”, and Russian newspapers are leading with the story that the US government is sanctioning Europe with high tariffs but not Russia.

The Russian papers may be full of anti-Ukraine and European rhetoric, but they are also full of the perilous state of the Russian economy. Everything except tank production is in free-fall downwards – and tank production is still nowhere near enough to match the grievous losses of the war. If Saudi and US threats to drive oil prices below $50 a barrel are realised, the Russian war machine is likely to grind to a halt by this year’s end.

Worryingly, there is also widespread assertion in the Russian media that “legally” the Soviet Union still exists, and the Special Military Operation in Ukraine is an internal matter. According to this logic that would also be the case if Russia invaded the Baltic States and Poland – as those countries expect, which is why they are building up their forces as fast as possible.

But, finally, President Trump seems to have realised that the Russians think he is an idiot. They are now openly goading him and the penny has finally dropped. The US president has belatedly realised that the “bad guys” are in Moscow and not in Kyiv and other European capitals. The big mistake Moscow has now made was to neglect Trump’s vanity. This is an error that Vladimir Putin may live to regret. Trump, in his anger at the obvious Russian disrespect, may now push the sanctions button and deprive Moscow of the vital oil revenue which allows it to sustain its massive army and creaking economy.

Frankly, I hope – and most outside the Kremlin are probably hoping with me – that Donald Trump is now as mad as hell, and will put the boot into Russia where it hurts the most. That’s the best chance of ending the war, rather than trying to negotiate with Putin.

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2025/05/26/trump-crazy-putin-ukraine-strike-war-idiot/

#russian invasion of ukraine #us politics #maga morons #russia #ukraine #war in ukraine #russian imperialism #russian colonialism #trump #putin

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steddielations · 2 years ago

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Dom Steve Fic Recs

Strange as Angels (soft dom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie hasn't been able to get himself off in months, and now he's high, sweaty, and horny, thinking about the very man sitting in his room in nothing but a wife beater and a pair of tiny athletic shorts, and he thinks he might die. Steve notices. Of course, Steve fucking notices, what, with all the squirming Eddie's doing. Steve offers to help get Eddie off. As friends do. (As long as those friends are completely in love with each other.)

Like The Hero Who Never Ran (dom awakening series) by callmejude

While Steve and Dustin are searching for survivors, they're surprised to find Eddie alive, hiding out in Rick's cabin. Steve takes up the task of caring for him while staying in his trailer.

Genius Loci (dom bottom, magic steve) by @sayesayes

It’s 1986, and Steve falls in love with a boy who is leaving. It’s 1990, and Eddie comes back home. The fic where Steve is a selectively mute, homesteading, truck-driving witch with head injuries and also somehow it's canonverse.

(Don't) cream your pants (soft dom steve awakening series) by @corrodedbisexual

“Don’t know how to cream your pants, huh?” Steve asks, unable to conceal a smirk. He hears a quiet whine as Eddie seems to try and make himself disappear inside the couch. “Want me to show you how?”

Gilded (dom steve, blindfolds, ice play) by @cheshiredogao3

Steve and Eddie are looking forward to a weekend all to themselves, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Trouble Looks Good On You (wip, spanking, kink discovery) by me indelicate

It happens like a fever dream. The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, it’s obviously just an old jock habit that’s stuck with him. It wasn’t meant to have Eddie’s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harrington’s hand, or— Nope, because Eddie’s not even into that. But then, it happens again. Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddie’s new kinks.

You Make Me Feel Like I Am Whole Again (wip, dom top and dom bottom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie has never felt like his body belongs to him. It gets worse after he's nearly mauled to death, left with scars and healing wounds, a lopsided chest, and more trauma stacked on top of everything already wrong with him. Steve Harrington finds out Eddie's trans by accident after the bats, and Eddie finds out Steve's surprisingly okay with it. More than okay with it.

Bite Through These Wires (soft dom steve's strap game series 🤭) by @steves-strapcollection

“Wouldn’t you be Ken, though?” Steve had hoped Eddie would ask a question like that and he had to refrain from punching the air and ruining his punchline. “I come with all the coolest accessories, so clearly I’m still Barbie,” Steve retorted, his voice going just a bit deeper as he leaned closer to Eddie.

Relax (Lay it Back) (soft dom yoga instructor steve) by @wynnyfryd

Five times yoga instructor Steve teaches Eddie how to chill the fuck out, and the one time he learns his lesson.

Melt Me On Your Tongue (soft dom, bathing) by me indelicate

“This okay?” “Yeah it’s— shit, it’s more than okay, Steve.” “… you’re crying, Eds.” Eddie can’t hold back a choked off noise then, somewhere between an overwhelmed laugh and a sob. “No one’s ever done this to me before.” He doesn’t know if he means no one’s ever given him a bath, or braided his hair, or just any of the things Steve does for him, really. Eddie's never had a Steve before.

Kiss Me (Beneath the Milky Twilight) (pleasure dom steve, virgin eddie) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Eddie has never been kissed. Steve apparently would very much like to volunteer to fix this.

Getting Lost in the Dark is My Favorite Part (wip, masochist virgin eddie, kink discovery) by queerontilmorning

After his near-death experience, Eddie decides it's time to get rid of his pesky virginity and heads to a gay bar. It leads to some... realizations... for both him and Steve.

You're a Sweet Shot of Kerosene (When I Threw it Back, it Poisoned Me) (wip, mob boss steve) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Whatever fucked up shit Eddie’s father had inadvertently roped him into simply by being what he was — a shit-stain excuse for a sperm donor who preferred sticking a needle in his arm to taking care of his family — well, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about to be him that pays that price. And maybe Eddie’s delirious, because by the time it’s apparently his turn and they’re dragging him down some hallway (and yeah, it’s not like Eddie’s not trying to put up a fight, but it feels almost performative at this point considering he’s pretty much hogtied here), the only real thought he has when they deposit him on yet another cold, wet tile floor is this: Uncle Wayne is gonna be so pissed at me if I get shot in the head tonight.

closer to you (soft dom steve) by @natesfwl

“C’mon baby, where's my little rockstar?” Steve spanks him, groans when he feels Eddie tense up around him from the impact, “Perform for me.” “You let me penetrate you” Eddie stutters out the line as he lifts himself up with his knees. “There you go,” Steve whispers, watching as Eddie fights to keep his eyes locked onto Steve’s when he sinks back down. or the really self-indulgent fic of steddie fucking to the song closer by NIN.

Destroy The Silence (drummer steve) by @artaxlivs

Steve becomes the drummer for Corroded Coffin and Eddie can't handle his thirst

Trouble and Temptation (series wip, businessman dilf steve) by @heartharps

“Come on, Harrington. I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly.” When Steve looked up, he was glaring, as stern and serious as ever. “Eddie, let me remind you that as far as I'm concerned, nothing has ever happened between us other than of a professional nature.”

Sting, and Other Brainworms (series with switching) by @riality-check

“Do you need to go down, baby?” Eddie gets like this, sometimes. Stuck between overwhelmed and incredibly bored. Steve watches until he remembers that they have a way to fix this. Eddie calls it a hard reset. Steve calls it fucking him until he can’t see straight.

Edification (sadist steve) by aristal

“Alright Munson.” She bares her teeth and grins like a wolf. “Tell the class: what’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” A slow smile creeps into his features, and his dark eyes flash. “Oh, you’re asking the good questions, Wheeler.” He takes another long pull of his joint, dragging the moment out for dramatic effect. Steve doesn’t care. He wants to know the answer. He needs to know. Eventually, Eddie blows out the smoke, eyes a little hazy as he grins at the ceiling. “I’ve always liked the idea of being slapped around and choked in someone’s car.”

In My Boxers, Half Stoned (dom bottom Steve) by eddywow

"You can," Eddie said, almost sounding like he was nodding along to his words. The image was too pure for Steve. "You could say anything you want to me and I'd- I think I'd be into it. Because I saw your pics and like, I know your face isn't in them but- but I really like them. Is it okay that I liked them?"

Insatiable (public, skirts, cages) by @cheshiredogao3

When their club ritual is rudely interrupted, Steve and Eddie make a point of proving their bond—rather publicly.

Done Deal (series with switching) by @morningberriesao3

Steve Harrington doesn't have any money with him, so he offers to pay Eddie Munson some other way.

Lovebite (sub vampire eddie) by hellcore

It shouldn’t feel so good, being tasted.

* The next few don't have the tag but in my opinion they have dom Steve vibes and I want to include them here (:

Cyclical (wip, time loop fic, rimming, switching, lots of smut with plot) by @cuips-not-cute

steve keeps finding himself back in the boathouse where everything started, wrapped up in the arms of a boy who can’t stop dying. he's desperate to rewrite the timeline, trying everything he can think of to fix it. including falling in love.

Dirty Words by @morningberriesao3

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Memorize My Number, That's Why I Got A Phone (phone sex) by queerontilmorning

while on tour with Corroded Coffin, Eddie makes an important phone call to Steve.

My Right Hand Man (spanking, kink discovery) by @entanglednow

In which movie night takes an unexpected turn, and it's surprisingly easy to just let it happen.

Shot Right Through (pierced eddie) by @entanglednow

Steve overhears a conversation between Eddie and Robin, and then spends a few weeks trying to think of anything else.

Pleased To Meet You (demon steve) by midnightdrive

Eddie accidentally summons a demon who is bound to fulfill his every wish. He, somehow, gets more than he had bargained for.

#for the baddies that get it #i'm sure i missed some great ones please feel free to add on <3 #steddie #steddie fic rec #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dom steve harrington #sub eddie munson

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writersblockedx · 6 months ago

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Winter's Protection: Chapter Two

Pairing - Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader Summary - Your bodyguard takes things a little too far when you're threatened at a party. Warnings - Reader experiences sexual assault, violence, drinking Words - 2.4K

Read Part One Here Masterlist

It was a strange norm to get used to. Coming down to the solider cooking, reading, living a life in your own room - without any invitation. You barely spoke. Odd bickering moments when you begged for privacy, but he always won such with the threat of your father.

But of course, the time came when you were once again invited out for drinks with your friend group. A time when you would usually let loose, leave any kind of security and escape into a free city. Alas, you highly doubt the winter soldier was going to let you go so easy. You did as you always did. Getting ready without even mentioning the fact you were leaving. Maybe then he would let you slip away, maybe.

Though, it hadn't taken him long to realise what was going on when you wandered downstairs with your hair in rollers and your glamour makeup glistening. "You're going out." The soldier observed, taking in your frame for just a moment before he stood from the sofa.

You pulled your handbag over your shoulder as you faced the man, "Is that a problem?" His head shook. He stayed silent; how predictable. "And, let me guess, you're coming with." Another silent nod of recognition that he had heard you.

A sigh fell from your lips as you headed for the door, the soldier trailing behind you. "If you've got to join, will you at least drive me?" You turned to him, uncertain of his response.

He gave no nod or shake of his head. He took a moment, and thought on it, before speaking, "Sure."

The soldier slipped into the front seat, slowly revealing his metallic hand that was once hidden beneath the safety of his leather glove. You watched him carefully, placing your bag at your feet in the passenger's side. "Where to?" He requested, switching on the engine, barely glancing at you.

"Roxie's." Your eyes followed him cautiously like he couldn't be trusted. The truth was, none of your bodyguards had ever driven you anywhere. Most of them didn't care to do so, some of them too incompetent. "It's downtown area, near the east quater-"

He cut you off, "I know where it is." He answered ever so bluntly.

So you kept your lips shut as he drove, taking all the back roads and shortcuts. You pretended as if you weren't wondering about how the Winter Solider knew where everything was, how he knew the bar you and your friends attended religiously every weekend. Each thought you had seemed tainted with blood. That seemed your only answer as to why the Winter Solider would ever attend anywhere you had been. He didn't have his freedom, he didn't have weekends, he didn't have nights off, he just had orders. Orders to kill. Or, in your position, to protect.

Even to your surprise, he was able to grasp a spot right outside the front doors of the bar. You didn't move until the engine was switched off. From there, you threw open your door, heel grazing the concrete pavement as you grazed over the neon light which seemed ever so inviting at this time of night. You took one step to the right as to join the queue which waited behind a red rope.

And then a firm grip took a hold of your forearm, forcing you to a stop. "No." He stated and guided you towards the front door.

He ignored your resistance. "What are you doing? You can't fight your way in." Your words were hushed but angered nonetheless. "It's fine, I don't-"

Your words became silenced as you faced the security of the bar. "What can we do for you?" One of them asked, obviously irritated at the pair who had stopped her from doing her job of letting in the crowd of customers.

You could only watch as the soldier placed his metallic hand on the woman's shoulder. It wasn't so much of a threat, it was an introduction: he was the Winter Solider. She quickly sucked in a breath and nodded, "Just through this door." She pointed behind her before stepping out of the way for yourself and the Soldier to walk through.

The two of you slipped into the sea of flashing lights and booming house music. One of which should have helped you ease. Alas, you found yourself in the mix of drunken youth, glaring back at the man. "What the hell was that?" You snapped at him, fury building up within your pupils.

"You wanted to party," He said, nonchalantly. "You're welcome."

You bit your tongue as to not let more anger fall from your lips. You didn't know what might happen if you were to fight back against the Winter Soldier. For now, you were happy not knowing, not testing the limits.

"Y/n!" Came a booming voice from behind the two. You turned, facing your friend once again, she smiled your way until her lips snuck into a smirk at the sight of the bodyguard once again. She gazed him up and down like she about to bite her bottom lip. If she wasn't your friend, you might rolled your eyes. "See you've brought your bodyguard, once again. What's your name, pretty boy?"

The soldier didn't reponce, barely seemed to even have it in him to look down at the girl. "Where are we sat?" You interjected, sensing the irritation that your bodyguard suddenly extruded. Though, it did have you wandering what the Winter Soldier name truly was, if he even true, if he even cared to remember a past memory.

At such question, your friend interlocked your arm with her own. "This way." She pointed to a back booth where old money kids and inspiring lawyers mingled. Also known as your only group of friends. "Oh, and you should know," Her voice became hushed before she continued, "Ryan's here."

The soldier must have sensed the way your chest tensed at the name drop, before you knew it, he was right at your side. You swallowed, "What-? What do you mean? I thought we all agreed to stop inviting him." You protested against the thought of such a touchy man slivering his way back into your life.

"He sort of just invited himself." She shrugged before tugging you along. "Come on,"

The two of you, with the Solider right behind, wandered up to the booth. It was already littered in empty shot glasses, glitter and vapes. Your friends all invited you in, even Ryan passed you a smile which you didn't return. One of the boys, one which came from a famously wealthy family, smirked at he gazed at the bodyguard. "Whose this? New boyfriend?" The soldier didn't move an itch but you still caught the way Ryan seemed to grit his teeth.

"New bodyguard." You answered, taking the glass of champye which was offered.

One of your other friends scoffed between her red lips, "Thought you were ditching all that?"

You gulped at your drink, "Can't upset Daddy dearest anymore, think he'll throw me in a cell if I run away from any more bodyguards." You explained, intending to leave out the part where said bodyguard was in fact a nortious assian for the taskforce your father ran.

Ryan drew forward towards the soldier, a firm hand landing on his shoulder. A movement of which was returned with a harsh glare. "Well, I hope you no how to have fun." He was silent. You watched carefully, wandering if he was about to snap. A moment passed. Ryan let his hand drop from the shoulder and grazed past your figure. "What great company you've brought us, Pierce." He laughed to himself. "Why don't you entertain me on the dance floor?"

There was a sick tone in his voice that made you want to throw up. "Never happening." You snapped back.

"Really?" Ryan smirked to himself. "I recall you having quite the night last night we danced together."

The memory flooded your brain in blurs. It was still disconnected after the month which had passed, still parts missing, yet the thought of what you did remember made your skin shiver. "I was drunk." You seemed to have to remind him - not that he seemed to care.

"Sure," He replied before returning to seats in the corner of the booth.

What you hadn't realised was that the expressionless soldier, had been listening to every word. He was smart like that. Trained to be an eavesdropping, trained to gather information. He watched as you tugged at your friend's arm, dragging her away from the wanna-be lawyer. "Hey, can we go somewhere else?" You begged.

"Bar?" With your nod, the two of you practically rushed away from your group, towards the back of the bar where you placed an order.

For a second, the solider lingered, his eyes trained on Ryan and then way he seemed to be flirting with every girl sat at the table. When he had enough of watching such, he returned to your side. "I want to punch him." He heard you say.

"I know." Replied the friend before offering you a shot of something alcholic. "Here."

You sucked in a breath, chugging the substance as it burned your throat. "I still want to punch him."

And so, another drink was handed your way. This time, with mixer. "It's a double, don't worry." Your friend assured.

Sipping at your drink, you leant your back against the bar, staring across at the crowded booth. "I can't go back up there."

"Okay, so don't." Your brow raised at her comment. "Come here." She extended a hand out for you to take. When you did, even with reluctance, she dragged you towards the sea of flashing lights and intoxicated customers.

From there, the two of you sipped at your drinks while letting yourself sway to the music. Smiles gracing at your lips, focused on nothing but each other. A while back, the two of you would have been on the hunt for someone to make your night worth wild. Alas, for this night, all you needed was one another. And the solider that still watched from afar, not seeming to dare let his eyes from your body.

But such bliss was short-lived. The booming chatter of voices your recongised soon came into earshot. Your entire group had moved from the booth onto the dance floor, Ryan included. Your eyes glanced to your friend, worry written in your pupils. You preyed he kept his distance. But that wasn't ever in Ryan's nature. For the first couple of songs, he kept his distance. For a second, you even relaxed. Maybe he wasn't about to try anything.

"I'm gonna get another drink!" Your friend yelled over the far to loud music.

Even when you shouted back, "What?" She didn't hear. Before you knew it, she was walking away, leaving you seemingly unprotected.

It didn't take him long. He clocked on to your vulnerability the moment your friend left. And like that, he swooped along side you. "You don't seem to want my company tonight?" Ryan observed, his words whispered against your ear.

"No, I don't." You thought you had made it abundetly clear. Maybe he was just dim-witted, or maybe he thought you we're playing a long game of hard to get. Knowing the size of his ego, you were betting on the latter.

"That's just too bad." He continued to speak into your ear. As his words left his lips, you suddenly felt the presence of his hand on your hand. You wanted nothing more than to swat it away, but your body seemed to bretay you; you froze in the same way you did whenever you thought of your last night out with the boy.

Your breath hitched. "What are you doing?" Seemed to be the only question you could muster, despite the desperation to yell at him to get his sticky fingers away from your body.

"Nothing." His smirk returned, as did your sudden want to throw up.

Such only worsened when his hand slipped further down. And it kept going. "Ryan don't-"

"What?" He acted smug, like he wasn't making your whole body crumble from the inside out.

When you felt his hand on your arse, you forced yourself to snap out of it. "Ryan." His name said with a stern snap. He didn't stop, we you felt him pinch, you shoved him away from you. "Ryan!"

Even with your words, he wasn't giving in. His smug expression never left his eyes. "What? Come on, I'm just having fun." You wanted to scream, and you wanted to punch him now more than ever. But God forbid a woman make a scene.

You put a firm hand at his chest, pushing him away with enough force that his hands finally let your skin. "Yeah, well I'm not." You snapped back at him.

You barely had a chance to take another breath before Ryan was suddenly bleeding. A harsh punch to his chin, enough to cause a brusie in the morning. Everyone stopped, staring at the soldier and his metallic hand, now tainted in spots on red. No one had time to do anything before Ryan was thrown onto the floor, alerting the fellow dancers of the scene. Several punches in and more blood casted against Ryan's sickly pale skin.

It wasn't long before a sea of the bar's security crew rushed in. But either their attempts to prey the soldier off were futile. So you found yourself stepping forward, "Stop!" Your hands gripped at his arm, yelling once again, "Stop."

When the soldier raised his hand for the next punch, he slowed. His furious eyes turning to yourself. They seemed to ease. "I'm going." You tugged at him further, a silence instruction that he needed to follow, because they were his orders, not to continue punching some egotistical dick. "Leave him." Suddenly, you felt a rush of power. Oneof which always made you feel sick. Having a human at your will, for whatever you needed, to obey anything you requested. A role you dad had seemed to take on effortlessly in the past.

And so, with the winter solider at your side, you slipped away from the scene. Your body still shaking. Though, you weren't sure if that was at the fault of Ryan's behaviour or watching how easily the Winter Solider could have broken the man in two for you. You wondered what else he had done to men. How easily he seemed to let his hands turn red, dripping with blood. You wondered how you would sleep at night knowing that was the man who now lived alongside you for every breathing moment.

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binniebakery · 1 year ago

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ʚ thinking about going to the beach with bf!gyu on your anniversary ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` ) ʚ he'd originally want to make it a surprise but has a bit of trouble finding a proper beach house so he asks you for help </3 ʚ regardless,, you were touched that he even came up with the idea ʚ bf!gyu who helps you shove all your stuff into his car and drives you an hour out to the coast ʚ and it's beautiful!!! despite it being spring time, the weather isn't too hot or too cold so swimming was really up to you guys! ʚ of course the minute you guys arrive, he's jumping out of the car and running to the passenger's side to open the door and pull you out to lift you into the tightest hug ever ʚ the scent of your boyfriend mixes with the salty air and it's so comforting <3 the way the breeze gently carries your giggles and light whines for him to let you go because 'you're squeezing me too tight beomie--! I'm gonna explode!' ʚ bf! beomgyu who ignores your protests for a few seconds longer because he can't resist the way your hair gently sways from the gentle wind and the smile on your face as you stare at him with stars in your eyes ʚ that grandma walking her dog flashes you both a sweet smile as she passes by because you're both just too cute <3 ʚ after beomgyu chases you around with a water gun you had no idea he had packed and multiple stolen kisses you both finally managed to unpack all your belongings and are ready to take on the weekend! ʚ and its already dinner time!! you both offer to make each other dinner and after your brief debate, you both agree on making it together! ʚ of course he's a tease,,, wrapping his arms around your waist as you bite your lip in an attempt to focus on the stir-fried veggies in front of you. ʚ your breath hitches as his warm breath tickles your neck and you remind him that as much as you would love to do something else you both need to eat after your drive! ʚ bf!beomgyu who wakes you up the day of your anniversary with your favorite flowers (courtesy of the small shop that was near by) and you can just feel your heart swell from the gesture :(((( ʚ he's just so sweet,,, and ofc you make breakfast for him to eat in bed (because he's spoiled!) in return ʚ bf! beomgyu who sits with you on the sandy beach, you both find a nice place by the rocks and he's grinning ear to ear as he watches you stare at the sunset ʚ you look at him curiously, "what is it?" you smile (he's thankful you can't hear the way his heart is hammering in his chest) ʚ he stares silently for a few seconds more. as if the breeze blowing by would whisper his thoughts to you :(( <333 ʚ bf! beomgyu who shakes his head, long hair swishing around as he lets out a chuckle. "nothin'." ʚ you shrug and look back at the ocean, arm wrapped around his. ʚ bf!beomgyu who continues to stare at you because to him you're definitely a view more worth seeing ʚ and it's like you can read his mind, you find yourself smiling wider as you rest your head on his shoulder<3 ʚ because although beomgyu masks that sincere and thoughtful side to him with his silly persona, deep down his mind is just like the ocean you find yourself staring into. if you look deep enough you'll find treasures and beauty beyond anything you could imagine <3

♡ Recipe Notes: last part was actually based off of a dream i had with gyu a while ago LOL

#Free Samples♡🍓#THIS WAS LONGER THAN INTENDED FGHAFDSFD #but i had so much to say and i miss beomgyu #sobbing for this man i need him in my life #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt fluff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader

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grogumaximus · 1 year ago

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It works like this: Verstappen already announced last year that he would have a motorhome built so he could stay in it during European races.

Nice and close to the circuit, in relative anonymity and fully equipped. This weekend in Imola he will retire to it for the first time.

Internet connection tested

Of course, a good night's sleep is incredibly important for a sportsman, so Verstappen didn't waste any time and chose an excellent bed. But the most important part has been installed in his motorhome in recent days: a simulator to participate in sim races. And, not a small detail either: the internet connection has already been extensively tested.

With his Team Redline, Verstappen is participating in the virtual 24 Hours of the Nürburgring, which starts on Saturday. Only, he also just drives a qualifying and the next day a race at Imola?

"Of course I don't have a lot of time, so we have to see how it works out. I expect that there will be four of us 'sitting' on the car. I'll probably do two stints between two and four hours. No, of course not at night. I have to go to bed on time and get my hours to start Sunday well rested.”

Verstappen is an avid sim racer and gamer and regularly sits behind his computer during Formula 1 weekends, and this weekend in his own simulator, to relax. Given his track record in Formula 1, it is clear that his performance on the real track will not suffer.

“Whether I had to ask permission? No, ultimately I decide what I do. I also can't decide for other people what to do on a Saturday evening. People can go somewhere to eat or drink and do crazy things. It's my free time. I am professional enough to see for myself what is and is not possible.”

He calls the fact that he now camps near the Autodromo Enzo e Dino Ferrari 'more relaxed'. He is also not afraid of any comments if the Grand Prix on Sunday turns out to be a disappointment and people say that he has not been focused enough.

“Then people just say that, it doesn't matter to me. Like I said, I'm professional enough. I also don't think in scenarios like: 'I did something yesterday, so that can influence today'. Look, if you don't go to bed and you don't sleep, it's not going to be good. But with so many years of experience, I really know what I can do. In the last few matches I also started playing games in my spare time and you don't hear anyone about that.”

#this is soo funny afaghdn #'excellent bed' n 'internet being tested' 😭😭😭#he is actually INSANE #like he said im not slacking i know what im doing 😭#let him play his video games <3 #max verstappen

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lowrisemiller · 3 months ago

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she keeps me up 𐚁₊⊹

no outbreak!joel x fem!reader

chapter 5- cabin fever | masterlist | main masterlist |

summary- reader’s dad invites her, her friend and the Millers on a cabin vacation getaway from real life.

word count- 6.6k

a/n- bill & frank mention!! sorry this took awhile I've been busy :p

warnings- feelings, dare I say yearning from Joel and reader. smooching n making out & almost getting caught.

The drive was long and boring. Alex was here with me but she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the headrest of my dads old truck. Thankfully Joel is driving separately from us because I wouldn’t know how to act around him.

He, Tommy, and Sarah are joining us on our cabin getaway for the weekend. They’re driving in Joel’s truck that is trailing behind us. Following my dad.

If I turned around, I’m sure I’d catch a glimpse of Joel’s focused expression, trying to concentrate while Tommy talks his ear off.

The road started to narrow, trees pressing in close on either side like they were guiding us somewhere secret. The air felt cooler up here, and the sun was beginning to dip lower, casting long shadows across the dirt path. I could feel that familiar flutter of excitement start to rise in my chest—the kind that only came with being away from everything.

We rounded a bend, and there it was: the cabin. Tucked between tall pines, just as I remembered it. My dad’s truck crunched to a stop on the gravel driveway, and not even a minute later, Joel’s pulled in behind us.

Alex stirred beside me, blinking awake like she had no idea how much time had passed. “Are we here?” she mumbled, stretching with a yawn.

“Yep,” I said, climbing out and taking in the stillness around us. It smelled like pine, old wood, and the faintest hint of smoke in the air—probably from a nearby fireplace.

Joel hopped out of his truck, Sarah right behind him, and Tommy was already shouting something about dibs on the best room.

And just like that, the weekend had officially begun.

One weekend of this, I keep chanting to myself in my head. Just one weekend. I can survive that, right?

Alex and I are sharing a room down the hall—directly across from Joel’s. Of course. Just my luck. Tommy had loudly claimed the room with the bunk beds the second we stepped inside, saying something about “old traditions,” and Sarah was quick to throw her stuff on the bottom bunk before anyone could argue. That left Alex and me with the smaller room and Joel with the one in between.

I tried not to read too much into it. Tried not to let my mind spiral into all the what-ifs and definitely-nots. But still… knowing Joel is going to be right across the hall? That I’ll hear his footsteps at night or maybe his voice in the morning, low and tired?

How am I supposed to act normal with that kind of proximity?

He’s always so calm, so unreadable, and meanwhile I feel like I’m buzzing just being near him. Every time I catch a glimpse of him—sleeves rolled up, hair a little messy from the drive—I have to remind myself to breathe.

I can’t let it show.

I’ll be fine. I’ll keep to myself, enjoy the weekend, and not let any of this ruin what’s supposed to be a chill, cozy trip with friends and family.

Yeah… I’ve got this.

Little do I know Joel is thinking the damn same thing.

From the other side of the hallway, he sits on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. He can hear the muffled sound of Sarah laughing down the hall and Tommy unpacking way too loudly. But his mind’s somewhere else entirely.

She’s right across from him. And he’s trying real damn hard not to think about that too much.

He didn’t plan on staying this close. Would’ve taken the pull-out couch downstairs if it meant keeping some space. But the moment he saw her step out of the truck, hair messy from the drive, eyes catching his for just a second—he knew space wouldn’t do shit.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

He’s supposed to be relaxing this weekend, not battling the mess in his head. He’s been trying to do the right thing, keep things casual. Distant, even. But that dance at the bar? The way she looked up at him like he was someone worth the trouble? It’s been stuck in his head ever since.

He can’t stop thinking about how her laugh feels like something he wants to hear every day. How she gets along with Sarah like it’s the most natural thing in the world. How he catches himself staring way too often.

One weekend, he tells himself.

He just has to get through one weekend without saying too much. Without wanting too much.

But as he glances toward the door—toward the hallway that separates them—Joel already knows he’s in trouble.

My dad’s voice breaks through the haze in my head.

“Y’all better come help unload before it gets dark!”

I flinch a little, then blink hard, trying to steady myself. I’d been so caught up in my thoughts—thoughts I probably shouldn’t be having—that I’d nearly forgotten where I was. Across the room, Alex lets out a groggy whine and rolls onto her back dramatically.

“We just got here,” she mumbles, throwing an arm over her face. “This is vacation, right?”

I huff a laugh, but it comes out weaker than I mean it to. My legs feel heavy as I stand, dragging myself toward the door. The hallway is still and dim, the air smelling faintly of old wood and pine. My hand rests on the doorframe for a second longer than it should, and I hesitate.

I can already hear Joel’s voice outside. Not clearly—just enough to know it’s him. That low, steady tone that makes my heart beat in ways I really wish it wouldn’t. He’s probably helping Sarah out right now, probably half-listening to whatever Tommy’s going on about. Probably smiling that half-smile that creases the corners of his eyes.

And I hate that I know his expressions like that. I hate that I’ve memorized the way his laugh sounds different when it’s for her versus when it’s for me. I hate that I’m already trying to figure out where he might be standing when I walk outside so I can either avoid him completely—or catch his eye without meaning to.

Get a grip, I scold myself, brushing my fingers through my hair quickly and heading for the front door.

It creaks open before I even touch it, and there’s my dad, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“You girls plan on helpin’ or just loungin’ around while the rest of us carry all your snacks inside?”

“Alright, alright,” I mutter, slipping past him and stepping onto the porch. The cool air hits me like a wave, crisp and biting and way too refreshing.

And then, down by the truck, I see him. Joel. He’s hoisting a cooler from the bed with one hand, his sleeves pushed up, forearms taut. He says something to Tommy and laughs—not the quiet kind, the deep, full one that makes my stomach twist in the most frustrating way.

I force myself to look away before he notices I’m watching.

Just unpack. Focus on the bags. The food. Anything but Joel Miller.

Yeah. That’ll be easy.

“Y’all better not be tracking mud past the porch, I don’t wanna help clean again!”

Everyone turned. There they were—Bill and Frank. Bill, looking exactly how you’d expect: flannel, grumpy face, arms crossed like he’d rather be anywhere else. And Frank, trailing just behind him with a basket of something covered in a cloth, waving like we were old friends.

My dad chuckled. “Oh here we go.”

“Oh my god,” Alex whispered next to me. “It’s the apocalypse husbands.”

Bill scowled deeper. “I heard that.”

Frank smiled, completely unbothered. “Hi, I’m Frank! We live just a couple miles out, figured we’d drop by and say hi before you all got settled. Brought some fresh bread—don’t ask what’s in it, just eat it. It’s good.”

Joel gave a nod and small smile, like he didn’t quite know how to respond. Dad immediately walked over and shook their hands like they were celebrities. “Man, haven’t seen you two in forever. Still got that ridiculous garden going?”

“Ridiculously successful, yes,” Frank said proudly. “Bill installed drip irrigation last summer.”

Bill muttered, “Frank.”

I tried to hide my laugh behind the cooler I was carrying. They were like night and day—Frank warm and chatty, Bill ready to shoot anyone who got too close. But somehow, they made sense. They didn’t stay long, just dropped off the bread, chatted a bit, and reminded my dad to keep the kids off the western trail—it cut too close to their fence.

“Also, don’t touch the mushrooms out here,” Bill added, throwing a meaningful look at Sarah and Alex. “Unless you wanna hallucinate and scream about ghosts for three hours.”

Frank patted his shoulder. “That only happened once.”

Then they turned and headed back into the trees, disappearing as quickly as they came.

I glanced at Joel, expecting a raised eyebrow or some smart remark. But he was just watching them go, lips twitching like he was amused.

I tore my gaze away from him when I felt Alex get closer to me.

“Those mushrooms sound like a hell of a lotta fun!” I chuckled as she giggled.

The evening had come and gone, and now we were all sprawled out in the living room. The fire crackled in the hearth, throwing flickering light across the cabin. My dad was lounging on the couch, feet up, and Tommy was sitting next to him, cracking jokes and stealing glances at Sarah. Alex had her book in hand, curled up in a chair by the window. As much as I tried to get comfortable, there was an underlying restlessness that I couldn’t shake.

Joel was stretched out on the opposite side of the room, his usual calm demeanor unchanged, though I could feel his presence in the space between us. It wasn’t overwhelming or intrusive, just… there. Like an undercurrent that I was hyper-aware of.

We’d decided to pop in a movie, something lighthearted for the evening—nothing too serious, just a way to wind down after a busy day. It wasn’t much of a movie night; more like background noise as we all went about our own thing. The kind of film that doesn’t require too much attention. But it was hard to focus on anything other than the warmth of the fire and the way the light played on Joel’s face every time he laughed at one of Tommy’s jokes or shifted in his seat.

I found myself stealing glances at him more than I intended. Every so often, our eyes would meet across the room, and the tension would build in the quiet way only we knew. No words, just a silent acknowledgment that there was something between us. But we didn’t speak about it. Not out loud.

Not yet.

The movie dragged on in the background, everyone getting sleepy, slowly letting the quiet fill the space. Alex had long since passed out, her book dropped beside her. My dad was snoring lightly, his beer empty beside him. It was only the crackling of the fire that punctuated the silence now.

I looked over at Joel. He had shifted a little, getting comfortable, one arm draped across the back of the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. For a moment, I thought he might’ve actually been asleep too. But then he shifted again, catching my eye just as I was about to look away. That small, knowing smile flickered across his lips. The kind of smile that made my heart skip, that told me everything without saying a word.

Later that night, after everyone had trickled off to their rooms, the cabin felt quieter, the night pressing in around us. The fire crackled softly in the living room, its warmth still lingering in the air. But I couldn’t settle. I had that restless energy that kept my mind awake and alert, and when I couldn’t take it anymore, I quietly slipped out of the room.

I wasn’t sure where I was going, but the kitchen was the first place I found. A glass of water was the only thing I thought I needed, just something to ground me. I barely noticed Joel standing by the counter until I was already in the doorway.

He didn’t hear me approach, his back to me as he fiddled with the bottle of whiskey in his hand. The dim light above made the shadows on his face seem deeper, more intense. It wasn’t until he shifted, catching me in his peripheral, that his attention snapped to me.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” His voice was low, almost rough with the night.

I nodded, stepping further into the kitchen. “Yeah… just needed a change of scenery.”

Joel’s lips quirked slightly, and for a moment, I thought he might say something else. But instead, he just gestured toward the cabinet behind him. “Water?”

I nodded again, a little too quickly, and he moved to pour me a glass. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if taking his time with every action. The silence stretched between us, comfortable yet heavy, like there was something both unspoken and understood.

When he handed me the glass, our fingers brushed, just enough to make my pulse stutter. His eyes lingered on mine for a moment longer than necessary. I could feel the weight of that brief touch, how it seemed to hang in the air long after.

“You okay?” Joel asked, his voice low, almost teasing, though I could hear the undertone of something else—something more genuine beneath it.

I took a slow sip of water, trying to steady myself. “Yeah. Just… a little too much going on in my head.”

He nodded, watching me with that steady, quiet gaze. “Yeah, I get that.”

I could feel him moving closer without him actually stepping forward. The space between us felt smaller, like gravity had shifted, pulling us together without either of us making a move.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “I don’t know how to act around you.”

Joel’s eyes flickered, surprise flickering across his features before it was masked with something more guarded. “What do you mean?” He asked, voice still soft but with an edge of curiosity.

I shrugged, trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck. “I mean… this whole thing. It’s just... I don’t know how to handle it.”

There was a pause. Then, without warning, he leaned in a little, just enough to close the distance between us. His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes.

“You don’t have to handle anything,” he murmured, voice so close it made my breath catch. “You just… feel it.”

The words hung between us, thick with meaning, and for a second, I thought he might lean in, kiss me, something I wasn’t sure I could stop.

But instead, Joel took a slow step back, his eyes still locked on mine. The moment felt charged, fragile in a way I couldn’t quite explain. The quiet of the kitchen wrapped around us, intimate and full of unspoken things.

“I should probably go get some sleep,” he said softly, breaking the tension but not the connection between us.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“Goodnight,” Joel murmured, his voice gentle, but the undertone was unmistakable.

“Goodnight,” I whispered back, watching him linger by the counter for a second longer before he turned and left the kitchen, the door clicking softly behind him.

The quiet of the cabin settled back around me, but that moment—our brief, intimate exchange—kept echoing in my head, leaving me with a feeling I wasn’t sure I knew how to name.

The next morning came too quickly. I barely slept, the quiet of the night still lingering in my mind, the memory of Joel’s eyes, his words, hanging in the air. As dawn cracked through the window, I found myself awake and restless, tossing and turning in the dim light of the room.

I tried to lie there for a while, willing myself to drift back off, but the more I thought about the night before, the more awake I became. Eventually, I gave up, slipping out of bed as quietly as I could so I wouldn’t wake Alex. The house was still and peaceful, the only sound the occasional creak of the old floorboards under my feet as I padded down the hallway.

I figured I’d sneak downstairs, maybe grab a coffee and have a few moments to myself before everyone else woke up. It was still early enough that the quiet felt almost sacred.

But when I reached the kitchen, I froze.

Of course it was him again.

Joel was already there, sitting at the counter, the soft light of the morning spilling over him as he cradled a mug in his hands. He looked different, somehow—softer, more tired, like the night had taken something out of him too. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was a little messier than usual, his eyes half-lidded as he stared at the steam rising from his mug.

I wasn’t sure if I should say something or just slip past him. But before I could decide, he looked up, catching my eye. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Mornin,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep, the sound of it warm and familiar.

“Morning,” I replied, trying not to feel too flustered. I shuffled over to the counter, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and filling it with coffee. The scent of it was comforting, something to steady my nerves.

“You sleep okay?” Joel asked, his voice still lazy but genuine as he watched me pour the coffee.

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Truth was, I didn’t sleep at all—not well, anyway. My mind had been too full of everything, too full of him. But I wasn’t about to admit that.

“Yeah, I slept fine,” I said, offering a quick smile as I turned back to him.

He didn’t say anything at first, but I saw the faintest flicker in his eyes, like he didn’t quite believe me. There was something in the way he was looking at me, different from usual—intense, yet still quiet, like he was waiting for something.

After a beat, Joel tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving mine. “You sure?” he asked, a slight edge of curiosity in his voice. “You look like you’re still half-asleep.”

I laughed softly, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, just... didn’t get much rest. All good, though.”

For a second, the silence hung between us, thick and charged, like we were both holding back something we couldn’t quite name. And then, just as I was about to say something to break the tension, he spoke again, his voice lowered this time.

“You know, if you ever need help with anything, I’m here,” he said, his words casual, but the way he said it made my heart stutter a little. “I mean, I know things are... weird right now, but I’m not going anywhere.”

His gaze softened again, like he was trying to reassure me without saying too much, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more beneath his words, something unsaid.

I nodded, the small smile still on my face, but my chest ached at the way he was looking at me. “Thanks, Joel,” I murmured, unsure of how to respond, but knowing the simple words didn’t quite feel like enough.

He met my gaze for a moment longer before leaning back in his chair, his eyes flicking back to his coffee as he let out a quiet breath. The air between us felt thick with the unsaid things we were both trying not to acknowledge.

I turned to grab the sugar, needing something to focus on, something to distract me from the way he was still looking at me, like he was seeing something more than I was willing to show. When I looked back at him, though, he was already looking away, back into his coffee, but I could still feel the weight of his attention.

I know this moment would linger with me for the rest of the day, his words and the way he’d looked at me. Something had shifted between us, even if neither of us said it out loud. And as I went about the rest of the morning, it was like the air around me was just a little heavier, a little more electric than it had been before.

I heard my dads heavy footsteps and next thing I know he hooked Joel into conversation. I just sat down and drank my warm cup of coffee and zoned out.

The morning passed in a blur of coffee and light conversation. After a quiet breakfast, with everyone moving slower than usual, my dad suggested we head down to the lake. It was just a short walk from the cabin, and the weather was perfect for it—bright sun with a cool breeze. The idea of swimming sounded like the perfect way to shake off the heaviness of the last few days, even if I wasn’t sure how well I’d be able to relax around Joel.

Everyone seemed eager, so we gathered our things—towels, sunscreen, and a cooler full of drinks—and made our way to the water. The path to the lake was winding, surrounded by thick trees that gave way to a clearing with a peaceful, shimmering stretch of water.

The moment we reached the lake, Tommy was already running toward the water, splashing his way in without a second thought. Sarah followed, laughing as she tried to keep up with her brother. Alex and I lingered at the edge, setting down our bags and trying to figure out how much of a swim we actually wanted to get in.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the full experience yet, but I did want to cool off. So, I pulled off my shirt, revealing my basic black bikini, and waded into the water slowly. The coolness of it was refreshing, washing away some of the tension I’d been carrying all morning.

When I looked up, Joel was standing on the shore, clearly debating whether he wanted to get in. His shirt was already off, and for a second, I couldn’t help but notice how much the warm sunlight made the muscles in his arms and back stand out. I quickly looked away, hoping no one noticed my reaction.

“C’mon, old man!” Tommy called from the water, splashing him with an exaggerated kick. “The water’s fine!”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head but finally stepping forward into the lake, the cool water immediately splashing around his ankles. He looked over at me with a grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing—challenging me to go in further, to get out of my head for a minute.

Everyone had already jumped in—Tommy doing cannonballs off the small dock, Sarah squealing as Alex tried to splash her, laughter echoing across the water. I stood at the edge of the rock for a moment longer, toes curling over the edge, the cold biting just slightly at my skin.

Then—before I could talk myself out of it—I jumped.

The shock of the cold stole my breath for a second, but it was perfect. The kind of cold that cleared your head. When I came up for air, Joel was already in the water a few feet away, hair wet and slicked back, looking way too good for someone just casually floating in a lake.

I swam past him at first, just to give myself some space, but of course, that didn’t last long.

“You took your time,” he said, drifting closer. His voice was low, but carried easily over the water.

“Was enjoying the view,” I said, not thinking before it slipped out.

His brow lifted slightly. “That right?”

I felt my face heat—not from the sun—and ducked under the water for a beat, trying to buy myself time. When I came back up, he was still there. Still watching.

“You always this flirty before lunch?” he added, teasing, but there was something behind it. Something careful. Like he was testing the waters in more ways than one.

“Maybe I’m just flirty around you,” I said, matching his look and letting it linger. Two could play this game, even if my heart was in my throat.

But the silence that settled between us wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Electric. Even with the shouts and splashes echoing across the lake, it felt like we’d drifted into our own current—some place quieter, more dangerous.

“I used to come to lakes like this when I was younger,” Joel said, his voice low, like he wasn’t even sure why he was telling me. “Back when the world felt big, and I didn’t.”

I turned toward him. “You don’t strike me as the small world type.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I used to be.”

And there was something in the way he said it—like regret buried under too many years and too many miles—that made my throat tighten.

“Do you miss it? That kind of quiet?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. I just wanted to hear him say it.

Joel looked at me then—really looked. Like he was trying to figure out what I was doing, asking him questions like that. Like he was deciding whether or not to cross some invisible line we’d both been dancing around since the moment we got here.

“Yeah,” he said. “I miss it more than I should.”

And for one sharp second, it didn’t matter that we were surrounded by people. That there were reasons we weren’t supposed to be doing this—thinking this. It was just him and me, suspended in a moment that felt like it could tip over into something else if either of us moved.

That’s when the splash hit us. Hard. Tommy again.

“You two gonna kiss or what?” he called out, grinning.

I scoffed, wiping water from my face, but I didn’t look at Joel right away. I didn’t need to—I could still feel the way he’d been watching me, like something had shifted. Like we’d both noticed it. And now we couldn’t pretend we hadn’t.

I shot Tommy a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “Real mature,” I called back.

“Hey, I call it like I see it!” he shouted, tossing another splash in our direction for good measure before turning to help Sarah stack flat stones near the water’s edge.

Joel shook his head, lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Remind me why we let him tag along?”

“Because without him, who’d ruin all our almost-moments?” I muttered, too low for anyone else to hear.

Joel caught it, though. Of course he did. He looked at me sideways, eyebrows raised, eyes a little darker now. “Almost moments, huh?”

Fuck.

“Just sayin’,” I said quickly, shrugging like it was nothing, like I hadn’t just admitted something I wasn’t supposed to even be thinking. “You’re not exactly subtle, Joel.”

He gave a quiet laugh, deep and amused, and waded a step closer, the water shifting around us. “And here I thought I was being real careful.”

I looked up at him then—really looked. His hair was wet, dripping onto his shoulders. Sunlight streaked across the scruff on his jaw. He looked… good. Too good.

“You’re not,” I said, voice low, smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Careful, I mean.”

Joel tilted his head, watching me like I was a puzzle he’d almost finished but didn’t want to rush through. “And if I said I didn’t want to be?”

God.

I didn’t get the chance to answer—Sarah shouted something from the shore, and Joel blinked, like he was snapping out of whatever spell we were under. He glanced away first.

“We better head back,” he said, voice rougher now. “Your dad’s gonna start wondering if I drowned you.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst way to go,” I joked, grabbing a piece of driftwood and tossing it toward the shallows.

Joel laughed—an actual laugh—and it sent a ripple through me I didn’t know what to do with.

As we trudged back to shore, shoulder to shoulder, I could feel it building between us again. Not just heat. Not just want. It was that dangerous kind of thing that could turn into something real if we weren’t careful.

And Joel wasn’t trying to be careful anymore.

Neither was I.

That night, long after the firepit had burned down to embers and the voices inside had faded into the hush of sleep, I found myself wide awake.

Dinner had come and gone—grilled burgers, sunburned noses, my dad making everyone laugh too hard over beers. Sarah passed out early after hours in the water, curled up in the bunk bed. Joel had stayed close to her once we got back from the lake, quieter than usual but always with half an eye on me, like he didn’t trust himself to do more than that. Like he wasn’t sure if he already had.

And me?

I’d spent the rest of the evening pretending not to feel the heat still crawling under my skin. Pretending not to replay every second of our swim—the way his voice had dropped, the way his eyes had lingered, how it felt to walk beside him while something heavy and electric buzzed between us.

I tried closing my eyes. Tried counting the seconds between the creaks of the cabin settling, tried not to think about the way Joel had looked at me in the water.

Eventually, I gave up pretending.

I slipped out of bed, pulled on a hoodie over my tank top, shoved my feet into sandals, and crept through the old floorboards like a thief.

The dock was slick with dew, silver under the moonlight. I moved slow, careful, the night air cool against my legs. I thought I’d be alone.

But there he was.

Joel.

Sitting at the edge of the dock with his legs dangling just above the water, one hand curled around a chipped enamel mug, the other loosely resting on an old guitar that lay across his lap like it had been there for years. He hadn’t played it—at least not that I could hear—but his fingers traced the wood like it was muscle memory.

He didn’t look surprised to see me.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice soft, eyes still on the lake.

“Something like that,” I said, easing down beside him, just close enough that our knees didn’t touch. Not yet.

The silence was easy. Comfortable in a way it shouldn’t have been.

Joel looked up at the stars. “Used to bring Sarah out places like this when she was little. She’d try to catch fireflies, but she’d never wait long enough. Too excited. Kept clapping her hands before they landed.”

I smiled, trying to picture it. “Sounds like her.”

“She once fell right off a dock like this chasin’ one,” he chuckled. “Scared me half to death. She came up laughin’, though. Always was tougher than I gave her credit for.”

I glanced over at him, watching the curve of his mouth, the way his thumb tapped absently against the side of the mug. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Joel didn’t say anything right away. Just took a slow breath. “I don’t always feel like I got it right. Lotta times I don’t.”

“You love her. That counts for more than you think,” I said, and before I could second-guess it, I let my shoulder rest lightly against his.

He didn’t move away.

Didn’t even flinch.

He just let out a long exhale, like maybe he’d been holding something in too long.

“I keep tryin’ to be careful,” he said quietly, voice low, meant only for me. “But it gets harder every time you look at me like that.”

My breath caught, but I didn’t pull away. Didn’t pretend to misunderstand.

“Maybe I’m not trying so hard either,” I said, my voice almost a whisper.

Our knees brushed. Warm. Intentional.

Neither of us moved.

And in that quiet, in that space between confession and consequence, it didn’t feel reckless.

It just felt real?

The dock creaked beneath us as a breeze stirred off the lake, carrying the scent of pine and smoke. Joel didn’t say anything else right away. Just let his head tilt slightly until it was brushing mine—temple to temple. I felt the weight of it, how steady he was, how close.

The guitar shifted in his lap when he moved, the soft scrape of strings filling the air like an accident and a memory all at once.

“You ever play?” he asked, voice a little rough now.

I smiled, barely. “Not well.”

“I could teach you,” he said, turning just enough for me to feel the heat of him down my side. “If you wanted.”

I should’ve pulled away. Should’ve laughed it off. But my hand found the edge of the guitar instead, fingers trailing over the strings like I meant it.

“You’d be a terrible teacher,” I teased, not trusting my voice to do much more.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh and set the guitar aside. “Probably.”

The space between us disappeared.

Not all at once—just slow enough that neither of us could pretend it wasn’t happening.

His hand found my knee.

He didn’t grip it. Didn’t push. Just rested there, steady and warm and intentional, the calluses of his fingers brushing skin.

I looked at him, heart in my throat.

“Joel—”

“I know,” he murmured. “I know we shouldn’t.”

But he didn’t move.

And neither did I.

“You’ve been good,” I whispered. “We both have.”

“I know,” he said again, this time like it hurt. “But I keep thinkin’ about you. Every night.”

My breath hitched. “Joel…”

“You lean your head on my shoulder like it’s nothing,” he said, barely louder than the wind. “You laugh at my dumb jokes. You watch me like I’m somethin’ worth watchin’. And I’ve been tryin’ so damn hard to ignore it.”

I swallowed, hard. “Me too.”

His hand slipped higher up my thigh—still slow, still careful, but no longer hesitant. My blood was rushing so loud I could barely hear the lake anymore.

“And tonight?” I asked.

He looked at me like he already knew the answer. “You came out here.”

“And you were already here.”

He leaned in just enough that I could feel the whisper of his breath against my lips. “That feel like an accident to you?”

I didn’t answer.

I kissed him.

Just once—soft and stupid and way too short. But it was enough to set everything on fire.

Joel pulled me in like he’d been waiting for permission he didn’t think he’d ever get. His hand cupped the side of my neck, thumb tracing my jaw, and when he kissed me back, it was slow and sure and impossibly tender, like he wanted to savor every second.

Joel didn’t move when I leaned in again. Didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate—he just met me there, hand firm on the side of my face like he couldn’t believe I was real.

This time, the kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful.

It was heat and months of tension and every second we’d spent pretending we didn’t feel what we felt.

His fingers slid up into my hair, tilting my head, deepening it—claiming it. My hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer until our knees bumped, until I was nearly in his lap, until the dock stopped existing under us. There was only him. Only the scrape of his stubble against my skin and the low sound he made when I bit his bottom lip just enough to drive him crazy.

His other hand found my waist, fingers splayed against bare skin under my hoodie, dragging me tighter against him like he’d finally let himself stop being good.

God, I wanted to climb into his skin. Wanted to lose myself in the way his breath stuttered when my hips shifted, how he kissed me like he’d been starving for it. Like he was making up for lost time.

"Jesus," Joel muttered against my mouth, forehead pressed to mine now, breath uneven. "You’re gonna ruin me."

"You’re already ruined," I whispered back, not even trying to hide the smile that curled against his lips. "Just admit it."

His hands slid lower, thumbs pressing into the dip of my hips like he wanted to brand himself there.

“Say it again,” he rasped.

“What?”

“That I’m ruined cus of you.”

I leaned in until our noses brushed, teasing him, torturing myself. “I ruined you Miller”

Joel’s mouth was on mine before the last word was fully out—rougher this time, messier. His hand gripped my thigh and tugged me fully into his lap, and I didn’t resist, couldn’t. I kissed him like I meant it, like I’d been waiting for this exact moment, like I wanted to undo him.

And I did.

His chest rose and fell like he was barely hanging on, like if I moved just right, said just the right thing, he’d fall over the edge.

“I should stop,” he said against my jaw, though his hands didn’t move. “I should.”

“You won’t,” I breathed, running my fingers through his hair, tugging just a little.

He groaned—actually groaned—and dropped his head to my shoulder, laughing low and ruined.

“I’m so fucked,” he muttered.

And I couldn’t stop smiling.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” I said, voice light, teasing, full of trouble.

Joel lifted his head, eyes burning into mine. “You really think I can kiss you like that and just go back to bein’ good?”

“No,” I whispered. “I really hope you don’t.”

The silence stretched between us again, but it wasn’t empty this time—it was full of heavy breathing, shared looks, and the slow realization that nothing between us was going back to how it was.

When we finally pulled apart, the night felt different. Charged. Dangerous in the best way.

Joel reached over and brushed his thumb along my bottom lip, gaze lingering like he couldn’t help himself.

“I ain’t gonna sleep a damn minute tonight,” he said.

“Good,” I murmured. “Neither am I.”

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of bacon and the low murmur of voices downstairs.

I blinked against the morning light, the memory of last night still clinging to my skin like Joel’s hands had never let go. The dock. His mouth. The way I’d leaned into him without even thinking, and how he didn’t move—didn’t flinch—just let it happen like he wanted it as bad as I did.

God.

I sat up too fast, dragging a hand over my face. My body still aches in that stupid, secret kind of way. Like I’d slept with a smile on my face and now had to pretend none of it meant anything.

Downstairs, someone laughed—Sarah.

I forced myself out of bed, threw on a hoodie, and tied my hair up, heart thumping harder than it had any right to. The second I opened my door, I could smell the coffee. Hear the clatter of pans. The hum of a normal morning that didn’t match anything I was feeling.

I padded into the kitchen to find Sarah and my dad hunched over the skillet like two food critics, bickering about how crispy bacon should be.

Joel was leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand.

He looked up when I walked in.

And for a second—just one—something passed between us. That same quiet pull. Like we were the only two people in the room. Like the world hadn’t kept spinning after last night.

But then he looked away. Sipped his coffee like it was just another morning.

“Hey,” Sarah said, grinning at me. “Dad made pancakes. Don’t eat the first one, it looks like a crime scene.”

Joel shot her a look over the rim of his mug. “You want me to make you a real crime scene?”

Sarah snorted and threw a napkin at him.

I sat down slowly, trying to act normal, trying not to look at the man I melted into the night before. He was right there. Right across from me. Same tired eyes. Same scratchy voice.

But I could still feel his breath on my collarbone.

Sarah gave me a slow side-eye, chewing thoughtfully. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Just… I took a walk last night. Needed some air.”

Joel’s jaw ticked.

Sarah didn’t notice. “It was so pretty out! I wanted to stay up but Dad made me go to bed. He said—”

Joel cut in. “Said if you didn’t get some sleep, I’d throw your butt in the lake first thing this morning.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

I smiled, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

Because underneath the laughter and pancakes and dad jokes, I could feel it. Still there. Still sharp.

Me and Joel.

And the day hadn’t even started yet.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel tlou #pedrohub #pedro x reader #tlou hbo #no outbreak au #no outbreak!joel miller #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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vent-blogin · 2 months ago

Text

Another Suits fic Rating: Explicit

Summary: “I trust you,” Harvey gasped, panting now. “Please, Mike, I’ll be so good- just, just let me-”

Harvey Specter needs someone to take care of him, Mike Ross is happy to volunteer.

Dom Mike/Sub Harvey

Harvey Specter was pretty fantastic at a lot of things, including stress relief, but that didn’t mean there weren’t times where he needed something extra to take the edge off. An argument with Jessica, Louis shitting the bed, a particularly incompetent client- all things he could deal with easily enough on their own, but all three? And don’t even get him started on Mike Ross, who had made enough mistakes today to almost outweigh the huge advantage he got to Harvey right before he left for the day. It was enough to fix Louis’s mistakes and get him out of the doghouse with Jessica, but Harvey couldn’t shake the leftover energy from his near constant cortisol high throughout the day. He should be exhausted, relieved, but he’s not, and a few glasses of scotch wasn’t doing anything to soothe his manic mood.

Harvey sighed as he slid files into his briefcase to take home for the weekend, calling Ray to meet him and making sure he could be on call for the next few hours. Ray agreed, of course, because Harvey Specter did not skimp out on overtime pay, and Harvey forced himself to stay still and not pace while waiting in the lobby of Pearson Hardman.

The traffic wasn’t great, despite the late hour, on account of it being a Friday night in New York, but it wasn’t the worst it could be. Harvey told Ray he needed him back in an hour as he stepped out of the car, snagging his briefcase and heading into his building. He spent the elevator ride trying not to pace, and once the doors opened, he was off. Harvey had his nightlife routine down pat, so he made quick work of cleaning himself up, changing into a more… clubbing friendly outfits, and having another scotch- it was a vital part of the routine, okay? Prevented him from being a coward and backing out, because God knows that sometimes Harvey felt more anxious about actually going out than whatever was driving him to go out in the first place.

He never felt like that when going out for a drink, or to pick up a girl. No, this routine- and the anxiety surrounding it- was explicitly for when Harvey decided to go out with the specific urge to blow off some steam. It was always the same club he ended up in, because they had the best privacy policy he could find, and comprehensive rules for anyone engaging in a scene, along with a zero tolerance policy. He had yet to decide if he actually wanted to find someone to fuck, to fuck him, or to just watch, but that decision could wait.

Harvey gave himself a onceover in his bathroom mirror and nodded. A quick check of the time on his phone revealed he was right on time to meet Ray, as he predicted he would be- after all, a memorised routine is one that runs on time- and left his apartment. He gave Ray the address as he settled into the backseat, and went through his email during the drive. As they pulled over slightly up the street, Harvey noticed a bike outside the club and gave a huff of laughter. What kind of person rides a bike to a BDSM club? That’s the kind of shit Mike would pull- and there goes his temporary good mood. He’s not really mad at Mike, afterall Harvey is responsible for his actions and fuck ups, but he doesn’t want to think about work at all during this, it’s the only way it actually works.

Harvey told Ray that he would probably get a call within the next couple of hours before exiting the car and crossing the street. The club was busy, but not incredibly so. Harvey got checked in, and got asked the dreaded question.

“Are you planning on participating in any scenes tonight?”

“Yeah.” Harvey replied simply, because even though he was still unsure, he could always change his mind. She wrapped a green wristband around his wrist and admitted him to the club. He was tempted to grab a drink, but he’d already had a few before coming, and any signs of drunkenness would get him banished to whatever colour wristband meant he wasn’t participating. Harvey just wanted to keep his options open.

He snagged a table to sit at, far in the back, and passively watched the scene going on onstage. The pair clearly had an established relationship, and Harvey found his thoughts turning more self-deprecating by the moment, so he looked around. He noticed a few familiar faces, people he wouldn’t turn down but didn’t feel like seeking out himself, and then he caught an extremely familiar face. As in, the face of his associate who he saw mere hours ago.

Harvey quickly looked away, lest Mike feel his eyes boring holes into the side of his head and look his way. This was an absolute worst case scenario, the worst case scenario. Could nothing in his life be sacred? Be untouched by the ever encompassing Mike Ross, who put his grimy little hands all over every other aspect of Harvey’s life, and was now apparently doing it to the one form of stress relief Harvey had that didn’t make him think of his associate?

Harvey risked another look towards Mike, who was talking to two people that Harvey recognized all too well, and he was startled by the flare of jealousy he felt watching Mike lean into their space, clearly flirting. And then Mike was looking at him, their eyes locked, and Harvey’s mouth went dry. The whole main room had dim lighting, so it was possible that Mike didn’t realize who it was staring at him, but given the fact that he stood up from his table, Harvey wasn’t that lucky. Harvey suddenly wishes he had gotten that drink, afterall, if only to have something to do with his hands while Mike made his way over.

Maybe he could have gotten up, fled, looked anywhere else, but Harvey couldn’t take his eyes off of Mike as the man weaved through tables and gave smiling apologies as he squeezed between people, until he was sliding into the seat across from Harvey, looking devastatingly handsome. Mike clearly had come here straight from work, or only briefly stopped at home, because though he was missing his suit jacket and tie, his shirt was the same, and Harvey could assume his pants and shoes were as well. The top few buttons were undone, sleeves rolled up, and Harvey wanted- but this was Mike. Not a fling, Mike, his associate, his lackey, his puppy.

“Harvey.” Mike’s voice was all casual, with an edge of giddiness to it. Harvey couldn’t be surprised that Mike would take joy in knowing another one of Harvey’s secrets, it was one area that Mike excelled at.

“Mike.” Harvey nodded, leaning back and feigning relaxation. “I was just leaving, so you can get back to that conversation you were having.” Mike leaned forward, giving Harvey a knowing smirk that Harvey recognized from many speeches about having saved the day that ended with a file being tossed onto Harvey’s desk.

“You just got here,” Mike corrected, resting his chin on his hand and tilting his head, giving Harvey an innocent look. “And you can come join the conversation if you like, I was just talking about my boss at work, and how he’s a total hardass.” Harvey rolled his eyes, giving Mike an annoyed look that did nothing to reduce the smugness radiating off the younger man.

“Maybe I could talk about my subordinate and the fact that he’s a migraine and an ulcer wrapped into a neat little package.” He retorted, licking his lips and watching as Mike’s gaze shot downwards from his eyes. Harvey knew how to flirt, how to get what he wanted… but he didn’t know what he wanted from Mike. The last thing Harvey wanted was to ruin their working relationship, because Mike was brilliant and Harvey enjoyed his presence in the office, and he didn’t know if he could have this and keep that. “Listen Mike-” Harvey began with a sigh, but Mike interrupted him.

“Ah ah.” Mike cut in, voice sharp, and Harvey’s breath hitched. He settled a little lower in his chair, pupils blown and face flushing as Mike stared him down. “I know today was hard for you, Harvey, and that I was the cause of a.. not insignificant amount of that stress, so would you let me relieve some of it?” Mike’s way of asking was gentle, giving Harvey an opportunity to turn this into anything but a proposition, but Harvey didn’t want it any other way.

“What did you have in mind?” Harvey asked, his voice tight with desire and the slightest hint of fear. He trusted Mike absolutely, and knew that he would never do anything Harvey said no to, but Harvey rarely subbed for anyone, and it had been… a while since the last time. Not since Scottie's last visit.

“This is about you,” Mike replied, but his grin turned into something more thoughtful as Harvey hesitated. “What do you normally like for stress relief?”

And Harvey has explained his wants- his very niche wants- to several people at this club, to Scotty, but Mike is different. It would be easy to respond with “Bondage.” and let Mike go crazy, or ask Mike to edge him until he can’t see straight, but Harvey doesn’t want to lie. He hates lying to people’s faces- not bluffing, bluffing is different- but actually lying, he can’t stand it. And yet, it would almost be worse to tell the truth, because it’s Mike . Harvey had curated a very specific persona that Mike has been repeatedly bashing at with a sledgehammer since the moment they met, and this would be handing him directions to the weak point in the wall and helping him line up the shot.

“I want you to fuck me.” Okay, easy part over with. Here goes nothing, “And-” Harvey looked away from Mike, chewing on his lip. He couldn’t go through with this- it was too open, too revealing, and Harvey still needed to be able to face his associate on Monday. “And I want you to-” Anything but take care of me- “take care of me.” Shit. He looks back over to Mike as the man gives a huff of laughter.

“Of course I’ll take care of you Harvey, I’ve got you.” Harvey blinks at him, and is both relieved and slightly disappointed that Mike hadn’t picked up on what Harvey had actually requested. It usually took some explaining, but Mike had brushed it off easily without question, and Harvey wasn’t feeling particularly forthcoming, so he let Mike think what he wanted.

“Right. Let me call Ray.” Harvey murumed in reply, ignoring the way Mike’s gaze turned curious and prying.

Ray wasn’t too far, so within a few minutes Mike and Harvey were settled in the backseat. Mike made small talk with Ray during the drive, with Harvey adding the occasional comment but mostly staying quiet. He was going to have sex with his associate. He was going to sub for his associate. This has to be a massive HR violation, and Harvey momentarily considers asking Ray to just drop Mike off at home, but one look towards Mike and Harvey know’s he won’t be doing that. He doesn’t want to. He wants Mike.

“Thanks, Ray.” Harvey called as Ray parked, “Have a goodnight.” He adds, exiting the car and waiting as Mike does the same. Ray replies in kind, and then Harvey is having the very real thought that he is bringing Mike Ross into his apartment for sex, but before he can start overthinking it, Mike’s hand is in his, and he’s guiding Harvey to the elevator.

The elevator ride is quiet- they’re both getting themselves together, preparing for the night's big event, but Mike doesn’t let go of Harvey’s hand, and Harvey lets himself put his trust and faith in Mike, even though the vulnerability is scary. Tonight will go however it goes, and Harvey will end up on the other side perfectly okay, as he always does.

“Do you want a drink?” Harvey offers upon letting them into his apartment, pouring himself a glass of scotch and drinking it far too quickly to appreciate it. He would feel guilty if he wasn’t preoccupied with Mike Ross standing in his living room. Mike shakes his head, so Harvey nods and sets his own glass down, leaving against the island and shifting from foot to foot. Mike doesn’t look any better off, anxiety radiating off of him in waves. Maybe this was a mistake- Harvey should offer him the master bedroom, banish himself to the guest room, and they can pretend this little lapse in judgement never happened.

He opens his mouth to offer just that, but closes it when Mike suddenly draws himself up. “Are you okay with no or stop meaning no and stop?” Mike asks, approaching Harvey and settling opposite from him, mirroring his position of leaning against the counter.

“Yeah.” Harvey answered, voice raspy, and Mike nodded once.

“Good.” Mike murmured, and Harvey couldn’t hide his reaction to the tidbit of praise if he wanted too. It was embarrassing, the way that single word sent shivers down his spine, made his face flush and ignited a warmth in his stomach.

“Of course you like compliments,” Mike laughed, crossing around the counter and standing directly next to Harvey. Harvey turned to face him, curious as to what Mike was after. “Let’s see if you like this, hmm?” He cleared his throat and looked directly into Harvey’s eyes, stare intense and serious in a way that has Harvey tensing in anticipation. “Be a good boy for me and kneel .”

Harvey complies easily, dropping onto his knees and leaning back on his heels, looking up at Mike with half lidded eyes. There is a sliver of pleasure in doing what he’s told, but the true ecstasy lies in the praise that will- hopefully- follow. Harvey knows how to be a brat- he is one, really, in his day to day life, but when he’s subbing? Harvey chases the high of praise harder than anything else, it is the most important part of the experience.

“Good,” Mike coos, bending down to grab Harvey’s chin and drag him up into a kiss. It’s gentle, and sweet, and Harvey wants more . He chases after Mike as he pulls away, and gets a firm, “ No. ” for his troubles. Harvey’s bottom lip coming up in a pitiful pout and deep, brown eyes growing shiny. Harvey is trying not to crumple like a wet paper bag in the face of Mike’s disapproval, and failing miserably. He isn’t sure why he’s already feeling so… emotional, with Mike, and he doesn't know if it’s good or bad, but Mike cups his cheek and he’s floating.

Mike brushed his thumb over Harvey’s bottom lip. “You really do need this, don’t you?” he murmured softly

“Yeah.” Harvey sighed contently, he would be fine doing this all night. On his knees, Mike praising him, loving him.

Mike pulled back, his expression sharpening along with his tone, “Then earn it.”

Harvey’s brows twitched, confused, but Mike was already walking away, disappearing down towards where Harvey’s bedroom is. If Mike wanted something specific, Harvey would have been able to help him, was tempted to help him but… He didn’t want to get in trouble again. So, Harvey remained on his knees, zeroing in on a small smudge on his wall and keeping himself in the perfect posture. A few minutes later, Mike returned, and crooked a finger in Harvey’s direction.

“I want you on the bed,” Mike said, voice calm as Harvey stood, trailing behind him as Mike began to walk towards Harvey’s bedroom. “Clothes off first, then lie back. Don’t touch yourself. You’ll get what you want, but only if you let me give it to you.”

Harvey’s breath hitched, pupils blown as Mike opened the door to the bedroom and let Harvey enter first, closing it behind them. He pulled his shirt off over his head, averting his eyes from Mike’s as the man positively leered at him. Normally that would give Harvey a burst of confidence, but he was feeling oddly self conscious. He folded the shirt and set it down at the bench at the end of his bed, the cool air of the bedroom making goosebumps rise across his arms. He went to take his belt off next, and hesitated for a moment, but quickly continued. He assumed Mike wouldn’t notice- or if he did, wouldn’t really care, but he was proved wrong.

“Harvey, hey.” Mike called, bringing Harvey’s attention back to where he was leaning against the wall. “Are you okay? We can stop anytime, you know that right?”

Mike. Kind, loving, caring Mike. Understanding Mike. “I know. I’m fine.” Harvey replied, and was entirely grateful when Mike didn’t point out the way his hands trembled slightly as he slid off his pants and boxers, neatly folding them with the rest of his clothes. He wanted to do this, wanted the relief of having his brain take a back seat to pleasure, the release of everything he had bottled up during the day, but it was terrifying. Harvey was better at taking control than letting it go, even if the release of control made him feel better, in the end.

Shaking away his thoughts, Harvey continued forward with Mike’s instructions. He laid back on the bed, hands twisting in the sheets as he looked towards Mike, shivering at the approval he saw in his eyes.

“Okay?” Mike asked, stepping closer, one knee on the mattress.

“Okay.” Harvey mirrored back, voice cracking around the word.

“Good.” Mike cooed, leaning over Harvey, but not touching him yet. He let his breath ghost across Harvey’s chest. “You’re so tense, Harvey. Will you let me help?”

Harvey nodded, unable to speak. His shoulders dropped, tension bleeding out of him one breath at a time, like he was finally exhaling something he’d held all day. His thoughts had been reduced to a low level buzz in the back of his head as he looked into Mike’s eyes, mouth falling slightly open as Mike leaned down and licked a strip up his chest. A whine punctured the silence that had fallen between them, and it took Harvey a moment to realize it was coming from him. Mike gave him a smirk, sitting back on his heels, hands sliding Harvey’s legs apart slowly, teasing.

“You don’t get to think tonight, that’s my job now. You just feel. Understood?” As he spoke, Mike stroked Harvey’s skin, dragging his fingers across his upper thighs and stomach, and it served as an incredible distraction. Harvey hardly thought about his next words before they were falling from his mouth.

“Please.”

“So needy,” Mike teased, and Harvey went to retort, but found his words drained away when Mike grabbed his cock and gave it a squeeze. Harvey choked on his words, gasping and bucking up into the touch, but Mike let go, returning to his gentle teasing from before. His fingers ghosted over Harvey’s hips, his stomach, down his thighs. Harvey trembled beneath the attention, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, his breathing shallow. He wanted more, but Mike didn’t seem inclined to give it to him, at least not yet.

“Good,” Mike murmured again, and Harvey could hear him give a huff of amusement as Harvey’s cock jumped at the praise. “Now, hands above your head. On the pillow. Keep them there.”

Harvey obeyed slowly, stretching out in the most comfortable way possible. He was half tempted to ask Mike if he wanted to get out the handcuffs, but figured that might be best left till next time. He dug his fingers into the pillow, letting himself feel slightly frustrated at the length of the foreplay. If it had been anyone but Mike, anything but this, Harvey would have likely already gotten what he wanted out of this evening- perhaps even before he left the club, but he would channel patience for this.

“That's it,” Mike praised, settling between Harvey’s legs, hands warm and sure on his thighs. “You don't need to think. Just listen to my voice.” Harvey exhaled shakily, tension ebbing away with each word. He wanted to be good, which meant doing what Mike said. Let his thoughts fall away, but it was harder than he had anticipated. Harvey almost always had this problem when he subbed- he let his thoughts trail along and distract him, and take away from the moment. “Okay?” Mike asked again, his tone firm and low, commanding.

“Okay.” Came the choked reply.

Mike smiled, and the look he gave Harvey was nothing short of reverent. “Good boy.”

Harvey’s breath hitched again, but not from nerves. The praise shot through him like lightning, lighting up body and making him shudder in pleasure. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, jaw slack.

“Are you feeling taken care of?” Mike asked, voice soft and a little teasing. He leaned in, brushing his lips over Harvey’s collarbone, then his throat, not quite kissing, just breathing him in. “Don’t worry, Harvey. You’ll get what you want soon.”

Harvey swallowed, but the lump in his throat didn’t go away. His senses felt like they were dialed up, he was far too aware of every drag of Mike’s fingers, every inch of his body that wasn’t being touched but could be. The anticipation burned hotter than the touch itself.

Mike’s fingers grazed up Harvey’s side again until they circled the soft skin just below his ribs. He watched the way Harvey’s muscles twitched beneath his hands, how his breath caught and hitched in his chest, and how, despite his obvious desire, he didn’t move his hands from the pillow.

“That’s it,” Mike whispered gently, voice a low purr now. “You're being so good for me.”

Harvey let out another shaky breath, part relief and part desperation. He wanted- God, he wanted, ached, yearned- but Mike’s voice was a strong current, pulling him deeper into that quiet place that he could only achieve like this.

Mike leaned over him again, pressing the lightest of kisses to the corner of his jaw. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered. “You don’t have to think. I’ve got you Harvey, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Harvey shuddered, whining softly before he could stop himself. As much as he was enjoying the teasing and praise, he wanted Mike to touch him- to fuck him, like he said he would. He leaned into Mike’s touch, letting his thoughts fall away in search of getting more, in feeling more.

“There it is,” Mike said, smiling like a secret. “You're starting to let go.” Mike pressed a kiss to his sternum, then lower, trailing the path with maddening patience. Harvey’s legs shifted restlessly, but he didn’t dare move his hands.

“How are you doing?” Mike asked again, barely above a whisper now, breath warm against Harvey’s stomach.

“Perfect,” Harvey exhaled, voice thick. “Please don’t stop.”

“Oh, I’m not going to stop,” Mike said, chuckling softly. “But I need you to be patient, understand?”

Harvey nodded, desperate, pleading. “Yes. I understand.”

“Good boy.”

The words were so simple, so unassuming, and yet the sound Harvey made in response was pure arousal and ecstasy. Mike rewarded him with another kiss, just above the crease of his thigh, before moving lower, taking his time kissing along the sensitive skin of Harvey’s inner thigh, alternating between feather-light brushes of lips and firmer presses that made Harvey’s hips twitch involuntarily.

“You’re shaking,” he croaked, dragging his nails lightly down Harvey’s thigh. At least Mike isn’t as unaffected as he had been appearing. “You want to ask for it, don’t you?”

Harvey gasped as Mike suddenly bit his thigh, teasing the skin between his teeth before moving on. Harvey knew he was supposed to say something, but the words were out of reach, drowned out by the thrum of arousal and desire.

Mike sat back just enough to meet his eyes, and Harvey mourned the loss of touch. “I asked you a question, Harvey. Come on, use your words.”

“Please,” Harvey begged, eyes glossy. “Please, Mike, I- I need you.”

Mike’s expression softened immediately. He reached out and cradled Harvey’s face in both hands, just for a moment, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones. “You’re doing so well,” he said, voice rich with affection. “I think it’s time I gave you a reward for your good behaviour.”

Then, at last, he slid his hands beneath Harvey’s thighs and guided them fully apart, settling between them with purpose. Harvey moaned, low and drawn out, at the first true touch- Mike’s mouth closing over him, hot and slick and devastatingly slow. The sudden intensity left him gasping, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure shot through him. His hips bucked, but Mike didn’t seem to mind, taking Harvey with a practiced ease.

Mike didn’t rush, he was painfully slow as he worked his way up and down Harvey’s cock. Harvey wanted more- but Mike kept his own pace, drawing it out until Harvey was squirming beneath him.

“Please- Mike- Shit-” Harvey gasped as Mike swallowed around him, muscles tense and taut as he grew close. “Mike-!” Harvey cried as the wet warmth previously enveloping him disappeared as Mike pulled off. Harvey glared at him, the pleasure he had been feeling dissipating and leaving him feeling distinctly unsatisfied.

“Relax, Harvey.” Mike soothed, but Harvey could tell he was amused. Dick.

Or maybe not. Harvey’s bad mood evaporated as Mike captured his mouth in a kiss, and Harvey could taste himself on Mike’s lips, on his tongue. When Mike pulled away, Harvey stayed firmly put, displeased but not willing to disobey Mike in the same manner he did earlier.

“Where do you keep your lube?” Mike asked, in the least sexy way possible. Harvey rolled his eyes, and gasped sharply when Mike slapped his inner thigh. It wasn’t particularly hard, barely even stung, but Harvey felt the earlier fuzz return full force where it had faded in his annoyance.

“Bedside table drawer, near the front.” Harvey answered, his voice trembling with pleasure and embarrassment in equal parts. Punishment was a common part of play, Harvey knew that, but he didn’t- it didn’t normally make him feel like this, properly chastised and ashamed of his actions. As Mike crawled across him to reach the drawer, Harvey took a moment to picture Mike putting him over his knee and quickly banished the thought, lest he come right then.

Harvey watched Mike douse his fingers in a generous amount of lube before gently pressing one against Harvey’s hole. Harvey tensed, but forced himself to relax- it was best to let the body naturally relax, but Harvey was impatient and needy and the sooner Mike could finger him the better. Once Mike had one finger in, he began opening Harvey up, adding a second, and then third finger. He only brushed against Harvey’s prostate once- he was avoiding it, and Harvey was getting desperate again.

“Mike,” Harvey rasped, voice raw and needy. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams. “Please. I need-”

“I know what you need,” Mike interrupted, eyes flashing darkly, and Harvey went breathless. “I just don’t think you’ve earned it yet.”

Harvey’s whole body arched at that, another involuntary tremor rushing through him, vibrating with tension. The restraint, the denial, it was driving him mad- he just wanted Mike to fuck him properly. Mike leaned forward again, lips brushing Harvey’s ear as he murmured, “You just need a little more patience, Harvey. You’ll get what you want, trust me.”

“I trust you,” Harvey gasped, panting now. “Please, Mike, I’ll be so good- just, just let me-”

That did it.

Mike pulled his fingers out and finally divested himself of his clothes, his movements no longer slow or dragging, but propelled with an urgency, by his own needs. Mike wasted no time in slicking himself down and pressing his tip against Harvey’s entrance. “Keep your hands where they are,” Mike instructed, voice rougher now, thick with arousal. “I want to see you come apart for me. Just like this.”

Harvey nodded, helpless. He barely registered the first push, the hot stretch as Mike slid inside him, slow and careful at first, giving Harvey’s body time to adjust.

And then-

“Oh fuck,” Harvey gasped, as Mike bottomed out, the fullness robbing him of breath, of thought, of anything but feeling. The sensation of Mike inside of him, filling him up.

Mike stilled, giving Harvey a moment to adjust to the feeling, looking down at him. “You okay?”

Harvey nodded again, frantic this time. “I’m fine please- Mike, just fuck me already!”

The thrusts started shallow, then deeper, and soon Mike was repeatedly slamming in Harvey’s prostate. Harvey sobbed out in pleasure, utterly wrecked, his cock hard and untouched between them.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Mike groaned, leaning in to kiss him again, sloppier now, desperate. “So fucking good. You don’t even know.”

Harvey could feel it closing in, his orgasm building fast now with every deep, perfect angled thrust, every filthy praise-laced whisper in his ear. He didn’t think to vocalize it- couldn’t think at all anymore- but Mike saw it in his eyes, in the way his thighs trembled and tensed, and his eyes grew glazed.

“Come,” Mike commanded, voice shattered. “Come for me, Harvey.”

And Harvey did- his back arched, mouth falling open in a loud cry of Mike’s name as pleasure exploded through him, white hot and all encompassing. He heard himself sob Mike’s name, again and again, as he came untouched, just from the feeling of Mike inside of him, breaking him open.

Mike wasn’t far behind. He fucked Harvey through his orgasm and straight into one of his own. He groaned low in Harvey’s ear, spilling inside him as he collapsed forward, bracing his weight carefully. He pulled out after he had softened, looking at Harvey with a blissed out expression. Harvey’s face likely matched it, if not even more destroyed. He felt entirely fulfilled, all thoughts of the stress of the work day entirely out of mind, even if there was an emptiness now that Mike had detached them.

Mike had collapsed beside him for a moment, just long enough to press a kiss to Harvey’s temple and stroke a hand down his side. Then, he was up and moving, leaving Harvey by himself. For a terrifying moment, Harvey thought Mike was leaving, but then the mattress dipped as Mike returned with a warm washcloth, slowly cleaning them both up gently, wiping away the tacky, half-dried mess on Harvey’s stomach.

“There you go,” Mike murmured, voice low and soft as he worked. “Just relax.”

Once Harvey was clean, Mike tossed the cloth into the laundry basket in the corner of the room, and slid back into bed, curling up beside Harvey, guiding him close until Harvey’s head rested against his chest. He pulled the covers over them. He used one hand to thread into Harvey’s hair, carding through the strands that were damp with sweat. The other settled at the small of his back, rubbing slow circles.

“You did so well,” Mike whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”

A choked noise slipped from Harvey’s throat, something that might’ve been a sob if he was anything but completely drained. Mike held him a little tighter, wrapping his arm around him and squeezing tightly..

“You with me?” he asked, checking in again. Harvey sighed contently, rolling so that they were face to face and he could bury his face in Mike’s chest.

“Mmhmm.” Harvey hummed, smiling against Mike’s skin as Mike pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Good. You can just relax, I’ve got you.” Mike whispered against Harvey’s head. Harvey closed his eyes and let himself be held, and God, he needed that more than he’d ever admit aloud. They laid like that for a while, long enough that Harvey fell into a soft doze, assured for the night that he was safe, and cared for.

#suits #suits fic #suits fanfiction #suits tv #Harvey Specter #Mike Ross #Harvey Specter x Mike Ross #sub Harvey specter #Dom Mike ross #sub harvey

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