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darkmatilda · 4 months ago

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𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer needs your help examining a crucial piece of evidence...but the moment he sees you, his mind goes blah blah blah...proper name, place name, backstory stuff...

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist! female reader, same reader as in pick your poison but you don’t need to read that first—there aren’t any major references, suggestion that the reader engages in casual hook ups, reader has a belly button piercing and a described outfit, spencer's pov only

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @trulymadlydarling it was slowly gathering dust in my inbox 😭 sorry!

"I think the threshold of my lab isn't exactly the best place for camping."

A woman's silhouette cast a shadow over Spencer as she appeared right above him in the dimly lit hallway.

Spencer sighed in frustration and hauled himself to his feet. As he brushed off his pants, he kept his eyes off the woman in front of him.

"Well, I didn't think you'd make me wait fifty-eight—"

"Oh, just say the hour. Is rounding numbers really that hard for you?" she scoffed, her voice carrying a trace of genuine curiosity. She swiped her access card, unlocking the door to the lab. With her back turned to him, he took in her appearance—an oversized fur coat draped over her shoulders, a designer handbag hanging from one arm. His gaze drifted downward, and to his surprise, he noticed…pajama pants and slippers?

"You should be grateful I even bothered to show up at this hour," she added.

"This is really important," Spencer replied as she led him inside.

She moved through the space with effortless familiarity, heading straight for the light switch. Well, this was her domain, after all—the place where she spent most of her days.

"I don't care," she replied. "Unless you've found proof that Marilyn Monroe was the Zodiac Killer all along—then, well, I care a little. Honestly, you have no idea how much you owe me for showing up..."

He rolled his eyes.

"Should I be thanking you on my knees, or...?"

"I could have been busy. I could have been out with the girls at a club. I could have been having the night of my life..."

"I get it, you made a huge sacrifice answering my request, but can you now—"

"I could have been in bed already. My own. Or not my own," she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Though in that case, I wouldn’t have picked up."

Spencer simply sighed. By now, he was used to it—the way most of their conversations followed the same pattern. How she always set the pace, steering the direction as she pleased. How she sometimes deliberately ignored his words and didn’t care if it made her seem rude. How, in general, she didn’t care what impression she left on others.

He had witnessed it countless times, found it irritating every single time, and yet—every single time—he kept the conversation going. Funny.

She switched on only one of the lights, leaving the room bathed in a soft twilight. Her handbag landed on the long counter beside one of the microscopes, and she tossed her fur coat next to it, completely unconcerned about knocking something over.

Sometimes, he watched her with quiet fascination—the effortless confidence in her movements—and wondered if she had ever, even once, smacked her hip against a doorframe. Or stubbed her toe on a cabinet. Those small, mundane humiliations and everyday mishaps simply didn’t seem to fit with who she was.

He tightened his grip on the plastic bag he had brought with him, the one containing something that needed to be examined. The team didn’t know about it yet.

The thought, the theory, had quite literally yanked him out of sleep. He couldn’t function without checking this lead immediately. But he knew that if he went through the lab, he’d have to wait until morning for the results…so he decided to ask for a friendly favor.

Okay friendly was a big word.

They had known each other for a few months, worked together on several cases, gone on a date, slept together.

Not necessarily in that order.

He was just about to open his mouth, say something, hand her the bag… when, for the first time, he actually saw her in better light than the dim glow—or rather, lack of it—in the hallway. Against his own will, his gaze started its journey over her.

From the slippers on her feet, up the loose pajama pants that ended just below the piercing in her navel, the black camisole with thin straps, to her face—completely free of makeup.

Until now, he had only seen her in two versions. One was her usual, elegant work attire. The other was her evening look—form-fitting, designed to turn heads and keep them there.

On second thought, there was also a third version. Without clothes.

But he had never seen her like this. Casual, comfortable, dressed for nothing more than wandering the walls of her own apartment.

She lifted her arms to tie her hair into a ponytail, and her shirt rode up slightly.

“If my piercing fascinates you that much, I can give you my piercer’s number,” she offered dryly, a fleeting smirk on her lips as she caught his stare. He immediately snapped his gaze back to her face, cursing internally when he realized he probably looked like he had been caught staring. Which, of course, he hadn’t been. “Excellent work. Full professionalism. Experienced hands…”

"I need you to check this stain," he interrupted, raising the bag.

They had been talking too much, and he really needed to know if his suspicions were correct.

She stepped closer to take the bag from him.

“Is this a crucial piece of evidence, or can I touch it?”

“You can touch it…”

She stopped just a step away, shifting her weight onto one hip and tilting her head to get a better look.Spencer instinctively straightened, feeling a strange tension along his spine.Earlier, he had been looking at what she was wearing. Now, what caught his attention was how she looked.

There’s a certain kind of beauty you never quite get used to, no matter how often you see it. The kind that, every time, knocks the air from your lungs for just a second—that fleeting disbelief that someone like this actually walks the earth.

She had it. She radiated it.

And she was just a step away.

She took the garment out of the bag. It was a red turtleneck sweater. She lifted it higher toward the light, furrowing her brow as she examined the stain.

Spencer’s gaze fell on her beautiful face, her eyes shimmering slightly, her lower lip slightly pursed in thought.

Suddenly, she scoffed, snapping him back to reality.

"Mystery solved, and I didn’t even need a microscope," she said, shoving the sweater back into his hands. As he took it, his fingers brushed against hers, catching him slightly off guard. "It’s foundation. I’d recognize that stain anywhere. So, hooray, happy to help, no need to put me in the case report, have a good night, and see you—"

He grabbed her wrist before she could step away, stopping her in place.

"This isn’t a joke," he said, his voice dropping, tinged with sudden irritation.She raised an eyebrow at both his tone and the way he—unintentionally—closed the distance between them. As usual, she looked him straight in the eyes, and as usual, it was hard not to be drawn in. But he tried, because this case was really consuming his thoughts. "Listen, I called you because I need someone to actually test it. Not just glance at it. It'll only take a moment, and then you can go back to crawling into bed with whoever you want. Can you do that?"

The second-to-last sentence made her expression shift slightly.

For a moment, they stood there, unwavering, eyes locked without so much as a blink. Then, the corners of her lips tugged upward—just barely. But it felt more like a forced gesture, an attempt to maintain her carefully practiced expression, rather than a sign of genuine amusement.

"Alright," she replied softly. Not to be mistaken for shyly. There was nothing shy about her, a fact he was reminded of constantly.

"I’ll test it, since it matters so much to you. And then I’m going back to bed." A slow blink before she yanked the sweater from his hands. "With whoever I want."

Why did swallowing suddenly stop being an automatic reflex and turn into something he had to consciously work through?

"That’s great," he said shortly, dryly. He could feel himself slipping into the trap again, letting her toy with him. "Have fun."

"I will."

With that simple assurance, she walked away, and the very particles of air around him seemed to loosen, finally allowing him to breathe again. He turned after her instinctively, the way a swivel chair spins when someone sets it in motion.

She crossed the lab table and leaned over an empty workstation—empty, like all the others. The entire width of the counter separated them now, along with the return of cool detachment to her face. Slowly, Spencer rested his hands on the smooth surface, watching as she got to work. Watching as her hair bounced slightly with the shift in position. Watching as her jaw tensed in concentration. Watching as she leaned over the workstation slightly.

"So," she began flatly, not pausing her work or even looking at him.

Spencer gave his head a small shake, realizing that this time, he really had been staring. At least she hadn’t seen it.

"What exactly am I testing?"

His gaze drifted to her again.

"Something related to the case."

"Wow, I never would've guessed."

He was too distracted to mentally slap himself for how pathetic he was.

"Uh, it’s not exactly groundbreaking," he began.

He could focus—he just had to try hard enough. He just had to clear the lingering trace of her scent from when she’d stood so close. Had to shake off the echo of her words. With whoever I want, she had said. The more he thought about it, the more accurate it seemed. He firmly believed she could have whoever she wanted. With that confidence. With that face. With that body…

"That’s why I’m checking it after hours. Just, you know…backstory stuff…"

A sound escaped her lips—somewhere between a scoff of disbelief and a startled laugh. She looked at him—no, she pinned him with her gaze.

"Backstory stuff?" she repeated, her lips curling into a smile. Not even a mocking one anymore. She was genuinely amused. "Did you, Doctor Spencer Reid, when asked what the evidence pertains to, actually respond with backstory stuff…?"

“No, I…I mean…”

“Oh God, it’s a good thing they don’t put you in front of cameras. Imagine you, at a press conference. Just casually dropping backstory stuff on national television…”

“I can handle myself in front of cameras,” he clarified, feeling an odd warmth creep up the back of his neck. “But there aren’t any here. And besides, I didn’t realize you wanted me to recite the entire case file from memory…”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said with another amused snort. “Backstory stuff is actually a surprisingly accurate term. You know, very professional.”

He rolled his eyes, feigning irritation, though what he really felt was more akin to embarrassment.

“Speaking of professionalism, maybe you could get back to work?” he suggested.

“I don’t have to,” she replied, flashing him a sweet smile. “I already checked everything. And I was wrong. It’s not foundation—it’s nitroglycerin.”

Spencer’s jaw practically hit the floor.

For the first time since stepping into the lab, his mind was running at full capacity.

"Nitroglycerin? Are you sure?"

"Well, I don’t get these things wrong," she said, almost offended.

"Nitroglycerin," he repeated in a whisper.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Suddenly, everything made sense.

She leaned her elbows on the table, watching him with interest.

He wanted to kiss her.

No—he did not—

"Thank you," he blurted out, her words becoming background noise as his thoughts raced. "Thank you for coming. This…this really helps. I have to tell the team—"

He turned toward the door, dazed by the realization.

Something stopped him.

"Spencer," she called gently.

She didn’t seem angry that he was leaving so abruptly. If anything, there was a certain soft glint in her eyes, a quiet fascination with his sudden revelation. Standing in the doorway, he looked at her one last time, feeling himself freeze in place again. He said nothing, sensing that she wanted to say something instead.

She tilted her head slightly.

"You owe me a favor," she said.

There was something about the way she said it—something that sent a slow, deliberate shiver down his spine. Not even a shiver. More like a careful march of cold fingertips down his vertebrae.

So, naturally, he did what any grown man with an IQ of 187 would do.

He parted his lips slightly and nodded.

#spence reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fic

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lowkeyren · 1 year ago

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reverse dating tropes w hsr men!

in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist

featuring — boothill, jing yuan, blade (separately) x gn!reader

✧.* — wc: total 1.5k, used up half my brain for this (the other half is for pt2 w aven sunday geppie!!), lovesick boothill + clingy jy + jealous blade fr, anyway pls enjoy! reblogs r appreciated <3

gepard aven sunday vers here!

boothill ꩜ .ᐟ

love at many sights with boothill whose memory card was tinkered with, and every time you meet, he thinks he's seeing you for the first time, so he falls for you over and over again.

when boothill returned from a dangerous mission, it was evident that he had endured significant damage. his once sleek and polished exterior was now marred by dents and scratches, and his mechanical limbs were either partially missing or severely damaged. the exposed wiring, usually neatly tucked away beneath scraps of metals, now hung in tangled strands, sparking occasionally with residual energy.

he looked barely salvageable. it's safe to say that the mechanics had a hell of a time fixing him.

though they were skilled enough to piece him back together, his memory card wasn’t as lucky. a tinkering in his system left him incapable of recalling or retaining information in his synthetic brain, temporarily —leaving the mechanics scrambling to find a solution.

weeks later, you find yourself walking down the familiar corridors of the laboratory where your favourite cyborg is being held for reparation.

boothill’s eyes immediately land on yours when you enter the lab. “well ain’t this a surprise! haven’t seen ya in a good long while.” boothill drawls, tipping his hat your way, his voice carrying a metallic twang.

"i heard you took a bit of a tumble, figured someone should come make sure you didn’t lose all your screws." you shrug nonchalantly, a smirk playing on your lips.

boothill's eyes flicker for a moment, taking in the curve forming on your lips. he thinks you’re adorable with that infectious smile of yours.

“heh, nothin’ bad, just had a r-r-run in with some cuties" he says, failing to hide the glitch that caused his voice to stutter. (and that damn synesthesia beacon! he swears he’ll get it fixed this time around…)

“guess you took more than a tumble huh...” you lean casually against the workbench, the sterile scent of machinery and the hum of various devices filled the air; your gaze sweeps over the freshly repaired parts of boothill's metallic frame, “anyway, glad to see that you’re mostly fine now."

“aww! do ya care ‘bout me?” he teases, his grin widening, revealing his pointy teeth peeking out mischievously. you don’t reply, your eyes glinting with the faintest hint of amusement dancing in them.

"boothill, we go through this every time, your memory card's still damaged. you forget things sometimes, so for the 5th time this week, yes i do care about you.”

boothill's expression shifts, a mixture of realization and sheepishness crossing his features. "right, right," he murmurs, scratching the back of his head with his metallic hand. "sorry 'bout that, sugar. guess i just keep forgettin'."

you chuckle and shake your head, finding the situation amusing. he feels like he might overheat from the sheer warmth radiating from your smile.

“you’re beautiful, date me.” (he didn’t mean to blurt that outloud)

you raise your eyebrows at the sudden compliment, “why thank you,” a surprised laugh escapes your lips.

“—and we’re already dating, silly.”

a shower of sparks erupts from his circuits, you can particularly hear the fans inside him sputter and whir. you rush to his side, concern etched on your face.

“wh- are you okay?! you’re short circuiting again!”

and this happens every time his memory lapses. you offer an apology to the mechanic on the next shift for the extra work required to fix yet another damaged wire after your visits. perhaps they should ban you from getting too close to boothill, lest he completely breaks down again like that one time where you told him, yes you actually kissed before.

jing yuan ୭ ˚.

"secret relationship" with jing yuan but he is completely unaware of how his public displays of affection towards you keep revealing the supposed secrecy of your relationship.

on the rare case that the general is found in his office, you are there too, beside him.

“pleeeease? just one kiss, really really miss you, darling”

“no jing yuan, not now…”

he wraps his arms around you as he leans in, caging you from the back. he rests his chin on your shoulder, “then how about a kiss on the cheeks?” he murmurs in your ear. you try to push him away, but he just chuckles softly against your neck, his arms still secure around you.

“no, and get off me before someone sees!” you protest, feeling your face flush from the close proximity, and the tightening of his arms suggests that he has no intention of releasing you just yet.

this stubborn man… you swear you’re gonna burst a blood vessel someday.

as if to echo your exasperation; he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, peppering it with nibbles and gentle kisses. jing yuan certainly knows how to test your limits, yet his affectionate gestures never fail to chip away at your resolve.

suddenly, a series of loud knocks come from the door, you freeze, and immediately attempt to wiggle your way out of his grasp. but he remains unfazed, his hold on you firm, and seemingly unbothered by the interruption.

the door bursts open, “general! there’s a situation at starskiff ha—ven...” yanqing trails off as his eyes widen at your position. the room falls into a momentary silence as yanqing's gaze shifts between you and his general, his expression reflecting a blend of shock and embarrassment.

clearing his throat awkwardly, yanqing stammers, "i-im sorry for interrupting... i’ll t-take my leave now!” with a hurried nod, he practically sprints out of the room.

oh bless that kid’s poor eyes…

you shoot a glare at jing yuan from the corner of your eyes, you just know that he has a shit eating grin on his face right now. nowadays, it’s probably common knowledge that the general’s most treasured person is you, evidently shown by how he latches himself onto you every time you’re within his vicinity. you wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of xianzhou knows about your supposed “secret” relationship.

“so… can i have my kiss now?”

aeons, he’s insufferable. (you love him tho!!!!!)

blade ؛ ଓ

"fake dating" with blade but you are actually dating —somehow everyone is convinced you aren't.

“blink twice if you need help.” march whispers-shout; dan heng leans against the doorway, blocking the way into your room, nods in agreement.

“this is absurd… i’m alright guys, really!” you try to reassure your friends, frustration edging into your voice. though no matter how many times you insist that no blade isn't holding you hostage and that you are indeed in a relationship with him, they seem convinced otherwise, somehow deducing that you're not able to speak freely.

you sigh in resignation, knowing that they aren’t going to relent anytime soon, and with blade idling in your room, you can't afford to keep him waiting any longer. “dan heng please, let me through, he’s been waiting for me for the past 10 minutes now…”

“good, let him wait.” dan heng responds curtly. (what a guy)

march takes hold of your hands, “do you owe the stellaron hunters something, and him out of everyone?! he looks scary…and totally not your type!”

“not their type?” a low voice rings out from behind dan heng, the three of you turn immediately and see blade looming at your doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

“stellaron hunter. stay back.” dan heng furrows his eyebrows, his stance defensive as he pulls out his weapon, positioning himself to block you and march. sensing the growing tension, you step forward, reaching out to gently grasp at dan heng’s shoulder.

(blade’s expression darkens at your hand resting on him)

“it’s okay dan heng, he means no harm.” dan heng hesitates, his grip on his weapon remains tight, but he doesn't move to strike. so you slowly move between him and blade, “see? i’m fine… he’s not gonna hurt me.” you smile reassuringly at your friends.

just then, as if to further aggravate dan heng, blade settles his hand on your waist. dan heng’s hand is visibly twitching now. “what? can’t i touch what’s mine?”

dan heng’s eyes narrow, “...we still don’t believe you, leave now. before it’s too late.”

before you can interject, blade grabs your chin, silencing any words of protest with a sudden kiss. caught off guard, your eyes widen as the unexpected gesture leaves you momentarily stunned. but you soon reciprocate his kiss, his intensity drawing you in.

(march quickly covers her eyes with her hands)

“there. now leave us alone.” and with that, he pulls you into your room, slamming the door shut behind, pinning you against it.

it’s just the both of you now, finally.

“did you really have to touch him.” his voice tinged with possessiveness. “blade, he would’ve hurt you, i didn’t mean—” he shuts you up with another kiss, more desperate this time, welp guess you’re stuck with him for the night.

though your friends might not believe that a person like you would “be in cahoots” with someone as dangerous as him; convincing them otherwise is a task for another time. tonight, he wants your attention focused solely on him, and him only.

✧.*

masterlist gepard aven sunday vers here!

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vroomvro0mferrari · 10 months ago

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LN4 | Happy Anniversary!

Summary: When Lando forgets the date of your anniversary, you can get over it. However, the pressure of his job isn’t a good enough reason to excuse all of his forgetful tendencies and lack of attention for you.

Based on this request!

Lando Norris x fem!Reader, established relationship

WC: 4.8K

Warnings: cursing, angsty, sad fic with happy ending

Masterlist

The soft morning sunlight peeks through the curtains of your bedroom, casting a soft rosy glow over the room. You take a deep breath, a gentle smile settling on your face at the realisation that it’s already been a year – a year of being loved, of sharing every thought and story, of new experiences and memories... One year of being married to the love of your life. It’s hard to believe.

You turn on your side to face your husband, propping your head on your palm as you watch him sleep peacefully. Your hand is softly stroking his chest while you smile with adoration. “Good morning, baby,” you say when you notice the change in his breathing.

Lando merely grumbles, not quite awake yet. Nevertheless, he pulls you closer to his side, letting you cuddle up against his warm body. Pressing your face against his chest, you leave a few kisses along the bare skin.

Lando sighs, stretching out his body. “Good morning, darling,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You smile excitedly, sitting up to look at the handsome man you get to call your husband.

“Do you know what day it is?” You whisper.

Lando frowns as he wipes his tired eyes, “What day?”

The confusion is evident in his voice. Regardless, you nod excitedly. Your smile falters as you watch the wheels turning in his head, gathering that he doesn’t remember. You move to the bedside table, rumbling through the drawer until you find what you’re searching for.

The expression on Lando’s face changes from confusion to guilt when you proudly show the present you’ve wrapped up so neatly, the realisation settling in. “Fuck. It’s our anniversary today, isn’t it?”

You nod, “I got you a little something, to celebrate,” you clarify. The smile on your face is gentle, comforting, and it nearly makes Lando believe you don’t care that he forgot.

“Oh, baby, I’m really sorry. I can’t believe I forgot our anniversary. God, that’s bad, isn’t it? The first year, and I’ve already screwed it up. I’m so sorry, love. Fuck.” Lando rubs a hand over his face, his expression pained.

“It’s okay, Lan. I know you’ve been busy,” you reassure him, “besides, it’s only the first year, we’ll have many more anniversaries.” You offer your gift again. “Just open the present, please? I want to know what you think of it!” You say enthusiastically.

Lando’s not fully convinced yet, “But I haven’t got anything for you,” he protests.

“Doesn’t matter, I already got this for you. Open, please!”

Lando sighs, but doesn’t resist further. However, the guilt of his forgetfulness settles deeper when he opens the carefully wrapped gift. You had taken the time and effort to make something, rather than buy a present, and he couldn’t even bother to remember your first wedding anniversary. He felt like an asshole.

At his silence, you felt the need to explain, “It’s a jar of notes,” you take the jar from his hands and open it. “It’s got different things: my favourite memories of us, things I love about you, what reminds me of you, just whatever I could think of. Then, when you’re gone for work, you can pull one out whenever you miss me,” you demonstrate, grabbing a note from the full jar, “or you could just call me, or whatever.” You put the piece of paper back, close the jar, and look up to your husband.

“Do you like it?”

Lando smiles lovingly, “I love it! Thank you, baby. I love you,” he says before kissing you softly.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t get you anything. I swear I’ll make it up to you. In fact, I’ll make a reservation for tonight right now, we can go out to dinner together to celebrate, and if you want we can go shopping today too, I’ll buy you anything you want—”

You cut him off with a laugh. “That’s not necessary, Lan. I know you love me. Besides, I’d much prefer to spend today at home with you, while you’re still here,” you say, stroking his face fondly before you pull him in for a kiss.

Regardless of your objections, Lando still manages to make a reservation for tonight at your favourite restaurant. He doesn’t make a single comment when you order the salmon despite his dislike for fish, and for weeks after he anticipates every single need you might have before you can utter even a syllable. He brings you the snacks he knows you love most on his way home, makes homecooked meals for you (however bad at cooking he is – he switched to take away after the first two times), and watches your favourite shows with you even though he hates them. He does anything and everything he can think of to make you feel loved and appreciated.

Unfortunately, his efforts only lasted a few weeks. Now, you knew what you were getting into when you married Lando last year. You had been in a relationship with him for several years before the wedding, so you are well aware of the time he needs to put into his work, even outside of office hours, not to mention the amount of stress and anxiety that come with racing at such a high level. That’s why it doesn’t bother you that much that your husband forgot about your anniversary; you know the pressure he’s under.

However, lately, his work has become even more time-consuming, more stressful and he’s become less attentive. It’s no surprise with how well the last races have been going – Lando’s finishing on the podium every weekend – that pressures have increased. He’s no longer fighting for only the constructor’s championship, but he has an actual chance at the driver’s championship too. The team is excited, and working hard, and the same is expected of Lando. Additionally, the fans have been putting more pressure. You know how much Lando’s affected by the stress of it all; he doesn’t want to disappoint, and now that the car’s performing, the only factor that could cause a loss, is him. The pressure, stress, and anxiety are taking over his body. He’s becoming more forgetful and instead of spending his free time with you, his wife, he’s thinking about the next race’s strategy, working out to improve his performance, or practising the tracks. Formula 1 had taken over the number one spot in his life.

You get where he’s coming from, you really do, but one of the most important things, if not the most important thing, in a relationship is communication and recently, Lando wasn’t communicating with you. He doesn’t tell you about the pressure or anxiety, all you know is from reading the man. After the number of years you’d spent together, you know him well enough to be aware of his struggles without him having to tell you.

You’d address the issue, ask him to talk to you, but you don’t when. Lando’s gone so much that you barely see him. His early mornings and early nights don’t align with your schedule; Lando’s gone before you’re properly up and has already eaten when you get home from work. The both of you have always been busy before, but at least you’d always eat together, and talk about your day. Now that those moments are missing, you feel lonely.

Lando has no clue of the things running through your mind. After all, you never told him. Even during the summer break, you keep quiet about your feelings, not wanting it to affect Lando’s performance during the races when you know how hard he's working to do well. Besides, it does get better during the break; Lando’s home more often and his mind's not as occupied with thoughts about his work. Nevertheless, he’s gone most of the time. You had expected for Lando to spend his time off with you, but instead, he hangs out with his friends.

Although the break has positively affected his behaviour, Lando's forgetfulness remains the same. You had told him about your friend’s birthday party several times during the past weeks, asking him to come along. When he promised you would, you thought things were finally going back to normal. But now, as you are waiting for your husband to come home so you can leave for the party together, you realise nothing has changed.

It’s already quarter past eight. Fifteen minutes later than you had said you would leave. You are ready to go – makeup glowing, favourite dress on, present wrapped and purse checked – when you decide you won’t wait any longer. You had given Lando plenty of chances to show his care for you and to consider you in his plans. You always visited his friends with him when he wanted you to, and he couldn’t show up for one party you asked him to come to? You leave the house, no messages sent and your phone on do-not-disturb: let him worry.

You plaster a fake smile on your face when you arrive to your friend’s house, pulling her into a hug when she opens the door.

“Hey, girl! Happy birthday!” You say in a high-pitched voice. “I can’t believe you’re finally 25!” You continue, squeezing her tight.

“Thanks, babe,” she responds when you let each other go, looking over your shoulder. “Where’s Lando? Parking the car?”

“Uh, no, actually. He couldn’t come.” The awkward smile on your face says enough, she knows not to ask any further.

“Oh, okay. That’s too bad. I would have loved to see him. You know, congratulate him on his podiums, it’s been going well lately, no?” She walks you into the house as she speaks, turning her head to watch your reaction.

“Yeah, the team’s really improved.” Once again, the tight smile on your face is clear.

A frown forms on her face at your reaction and she’s about to ask further, whether everything is okay, when she’s interrupted.

“Hey, Y/N! I haven’t seen you in a while! How are you? You never come to the races anymore,” Carlos tells you with a fake pout.

You look at him in surprise. You always forget that everyone in Monaco knows each other. Carlos and your friend met at the golf club and had somehow become good friends. Usually, you liked seeing him, but tonight you would’ve preferred not to see him. Not because you don’t enjoy his company, but simply because you’d rather not talk about Lando, whom he’ll undoubtedly ask about.

And so, your mask shoots up when he pulls you into a hug. “Hey, Carlos. I’m good. How’ve you been doing?”

“I’ve been doing well. You heard the news? That I’m going to Williams next year?” You nod, saying a quick “Of course, congrats!” Naturally, you heard the news; everyone had. But this conversation was already heading in the wrong direction. “Yes, glad to have found a place that will appreciate me, even if the team’s not doing the best right now. Talking about the best, Lando’s been doing so well. You must be proud of him, hm?”

“Ah, yes, of course,” you say indifferently.

Carlos frowns at your reaction. “Everything good between you two?”

Your smile drops, apparently, you aren’t as good at hiding your feelings as you thought you were. “Yeah, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

Carlos shrugs, “Just the way you react, is all. You seem kind of tense…”

You sigh, letting a silence fall for a few seconds. You might as well tell him, he’ll figure it out eventually. “You’re right. Things… haven’t been so great lately.”

Carlos frowns at your comment. “Between you and Lando, you mean? He didn’t say anything was up, he seemed fine the last time I spoke to him,” he says confusedly.

You roll your eyes at the suggestion, “I’m not surprised. He seems to be clueless to what’s been going on.”

Carlos takes a sip of his drink, “Have you talked to him about it?”

“That’s the issue. Lando’s never home, we barely speak anymore. He’s been so stressed with work that nearly all his free time is dedicated to racing. He gets up early and goes to bed before I’ve even had dinner. I’ve had no chance to talk to him.”

The frown deepens, and he breathes out a puff of air. “That’s tough.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting this on you.”

“No, it’s fine don’t worry about it. Sometimes you need to get it off your chest.”

You look up at Carlos, hesitating to continue your story.

“Has the break not changed anything?” He pokes further.

Another sigh. “No, not really. Lando’s using his time off to catch up with his friends. And his forgetfulness has clearly not improved either.”

“His forgetfulness?”

“Yeah, he forgot about the party, clearly.” You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes again.

“What else did he forget about?” Carlos asks with a frown.

“I don’t know if I should tell you,” you hesitate, “but he forgot our anniversary. I told him it’s not a big deal, which it isn’t, but it’s just that everything is adding up. I feel kind of alone in the relationship at the moment, like he doesn’t really care about me anymore. How can I think otherwise, when we barely see each other, let alone speak?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. That really sucks.”

You smile sadly, as if to say ‘it is what it is’.

“It’ll work out in the end,” you tell him. You hope. “Maybe tonight he’ll realise he forgot something important, again. Maybe that’ll make a difference.” You offer an awkward smile.

Carlos breathes in deeply, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get your mind off it, huh?” he says while directing you towards the fridge.

You nod, follow him, and accept the drink he offers you. Tonight is not about Lando, it’s about your best friend and the fact she turned 25. You are not thinking about your husband until you get home.

– – – – –

You slam the front door of your shared apartment louder than necessary when you enter. Nevertheless, there’s no reaction when you enter the dark apartment. You switch the lights on, noticing Lando isn’t in the living room or kitchen. Did he really go to sleep not knowing where you were or who you were with? Whether you were safe or not? Lando obviously didn’t remember the birthday party or he would’ve come, yet he didn’t text you to ask you where you were? Does he truly care so little about you? Does he even love you anymore? It feels like a punch to the gut – like someone had ripped your heart out.

The man had been basically avoiding you for weeks, barely saying a word at the moments you did see him, but at least he was still awake to see if you arrived okay. Now he doesn't even stay up to check if you get home safely anymore? Or text you to ask where you are? To say you are upset is an understatement, you feel angry and neglected at his disregard. You feel lonely instead of beloved. The lump in your throat is a painful reminder of how close you are to crying. But you don’t.

You swallow the lump, blink a few times to get rid of the lingering tears in your eyes and go into the bedroom to take off your makeup. You lean on the counter, sniffling silently, and close your eyes. You breathe in through your nose deeply, before breathing out through your mouth. It’ll be okay. Right?

When you enter the bedroom you stare for a minute at the man sleeping peacefully before you. It feels wrong when you climb into bed next to him, nevertheless, you do it. It’ll probably take you a while to fall asleep tonight.

– – – – –

The situation hasn’t changed a bit when the racing season starts back up again. No matter how strained your relationship has become, you do want to say goodbye to Lando before he leaves for the next race. So, the morning he’s supposed to fly, you make sure to get up extra early. You don’t know how, but he still somehow manages to finish his breakfast before you’re even out of bed, the container already in the trash.

“Good morning,” you mumble, wiping your eyes as they adjust to the bright light in the kitchen.

Lando looks up from his phone in surprise, clearly not expecting to see you awake this early. “Hey, what are you doing up?” He asks in a soft voice.

“Wanted to say goodbye,” you say as you walk closer to the kitchen island at which he’s sitting.

“There’s no need for that, Y/N. I’ll see you again soon enough.” The smile on his face is sickeningly sweet, a clear contrast to the words coming out of his mouth.

You frown, “You’re leaving for a week… What do you mean, there’s no need?”

Lando sighs at your question, “Never mind, it’s kind of you to get up extra early just for me,” he smiles dismissively before getting up from his seat. “It’s time for me to go,” he says looking at his watch before grabbing his backpack and suitcase which are sitting by the door, “I’ll see you in a week.”

You’re left staring in surprise as the door slams closed. He didn’t kiss you goodbye. He always did that, even during the worst of fights. That’s your rule. Formula 1 is a dangerous sport, he could be hurt in a split second, never mind being killed. From the start of your relationship, he always kissed you before he left, just in case. You hated the thought at the start, but learned to think it was sweet; that, in case something happened, at least he kissed his girl goodbye.

You’re watching your marriage crumble before your eyes, and Lando doesn’t seem to have a clue, or pretends not to notice. This is it, you decide. This cannot go any further. As soon as he gets home, you will talk to Lando, no matter how badly it will affect his race. You can’t do this any longer.

However, somebody else is already one step ahead of you. Carlos had noticed the toll your strained marriage with Lando was taking on you, and couldn’t help confronting Lando the first second he saw him. It didn’t help either that Charles was way too curious about the relationship drama. He had been pushing Carlos to find out more to save his gossip-desperate soul after the radio silence during the break.

“Hey, Lando!” Carlos yells, jogging up to Lando and matching his pace.

“Hey, man! How are you doing? Had a nice break?” Lando asks, giving Carlos a quick hug.

“Yeah, yeah, I had fun. What about you?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. It was good to get some time off. I really needed it; finally got to see my friends again,” Lando grins while Carlos raises an eyebrow at the answer.

“What about your wife? Finally got to spend some time with her now that you didn’t have to travel so much?” Carlos asks.

Lando laughs awkwardly at his suggestive question, “You know it!”

Carlos ignores the casual response. “I actually saw Y/N last week, at a friend’s birthday party. Was surprised to see you didn’t come with her…”

A frown etches onto Lando’s face. “What birthday party?”

“I think she’s one of Y/N’s best friends, she turned 25?”

Lando’s eyes widen in realisation. “Fuck, yes, I remember now.”

“She told you about it?” Carlos asks, watching as Lando’s expression shifts from realisation to discomfort.

“Yeah… She mentioned it a couple of times,” he admits. “She didn’t tell me that she went...”

Carlos lets him ponder it for a moment before adding, “Well, she was there. We talked for a bit, actually.”

Lando feels his stomach tighten. He tilts his head slightly. “What did she say?”

Carlos hesitates, glancing around the paddock while he weighs his options. “Uhm, she said you’ve been distant lately. That you haven’t been paying much attention to her, that you missed your anniversary…”

Lando stops walking. “She told you about that?”

“Yeah, man.” Carlos sighs. “Look, she didn’t go into too much detail, but… she sounded upset. Maybe you should make some time for her, take her out on a date or something. It seems like she feels pretty lonely.”

Lando shifts uncomfortably, his heart sinks in his chest. “Lonely?” The word echoes in his mind, unsettling him. He knows the feeling all too well. He’s the reason his wife has been feeling lonely? The guilt settles deep within his soul as he mulls it over. He tries to laugh it off, but it feels hollow. “She knows how demanding the season has been. I’ve been swamped.”

“I’m sure she does, but… it’s more than that. She told me she feels like you don’t really care about her anymore.” The look on his face is serious as he says it.

Lando blinks, the weight of Carlos’ words sinking in. How could he have missed something so crucial? Why hadn’t Y/N said anything? More importantly, why hadn’t he noticed?”

“She thinks I don’t care about her?” He mutters to himself. His gaze is unfocused as he chews his lip, running a hand over his face out of frustration. “Why didn’t she tell me?” He says quietly.

“There was no opportunity to tell you, she said. You're never home.”

Carlos lets out another sigh. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, but I don’t want your marriage to be ruined. I know you love Y/N to pieces. I would be upset with myself if you guys don’t make it out together knowing I could have done something about it. That being said, I think you should talk to her.”

Lando nods absentmindedly. He didn't even consider that they might not make it out okay. “You’re right. Thanks for telling me, man.”

As Carlos walks away, Lando is left standing there, his mind working overtime. He had been busy, yes, but surely you understood that, right? He’d been working so hard for the both of you, to secure a future for you. But… had he been neglecting you without even realising it?

The conversation with Carlos continues to replay in his head throughout the day. Maybe he hadn’t been as attentive as he thought. Maybe all those nights out with friends, all those early mornings spent focused on racing had a bigger effect than he assumed. He tries to push the thoughts away, to justify it with the pressure of the season, but it doesn’t sit right anymore.

The rest of the weekend Carlos’ words echo through his head, ‘She feels like you don’t really care about her anymore.’ Lando can barely concentrate with the guilt that’s gnawing at his conscious.

– – – – –

By the time Lando leaves his hotel, he has formed a plan. He has rehearsed a dozen different apologies in his head. He’ll explain what happened, that he’s been so busy with work that he didn’t notice, and he’ll say sorry and change his behaviour. And after that, all will be well.

His plan is thrown out the window as soon as he gets home and sees his wife sitting on the couch, your face pale and tired as you watch TV. The state of you makes the practised words dry on his tongue. How could he not have noticed what was happening?

“Why didn’t you tell me you felt lonely?”

You look up in surprise at the abrupt question cutting through the silence. No ‘hello’, no ‘how are you’, no ‘I missed you, baby’, just the sharp edge of confrontation.

“What?”

“Carlos told me you’ve been feeling lonely. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You frown at his directness, “When was I supposed to do that, Lando? You’re always gone.”

“That’s not true—” he tries to protest, but you cut him off.

“There was not one moment I could have told you, Lando! You’re always busy with work and when you’re not, your friends take up all your free time! You haven’t made any time for me in weeks, months even!” You yell.

Tears well up in your eyes at the confrontation. You had kept your frustrations to yourself for weeks and now that he finds out about your feelings he decides to yell at you for it. How else are you expected to react?

Your words hit Lando hard, each one landing like a punch. His eyes flicker with guilt. “I’ve been under so much pressure. The team needs me—this season could be my best chance at a championship, and I—”

You cut him off, your voice soft. “I know, Lando. I know how important your career is and that this is your chance, but that doesn’t mean all your time should be spent on racing. You’ve no time left for me anymore; all your energy is drained when I finally see you at the end of the day.”

“I can’t help that my job is demanding! You know that, Y/N. You’ve always known that. It takes a lot of time to improve, and the team is finally performing. It’s my chance at a championship! I can’t pass that up!”

“I get that Lando, I really do. But I’ve felt alone in this relationship for months now. I never see you, we never talk… The night of the party you didn’t even text me to ask where I was, or who I was with. You were already sleeping before I got home! Weren’t you worried at all? Or even curious to know where I was, whether I was safe? Sometimes… Sometimes, I doubt whether you still care about me – whether you still love me, because it feels like you don’t.” The tears slowly fall down your face while you say it.

That’s when it hits him – truly hits him. Lando swears he could hear his heart break. He looks at you in shock, and you can’t deny you feel a little better because of it. Had he really fucked up that bad? Do you really believe he no longer loves you, or cares about you? You are the most important person in his life. How could this have gone so far without him noticing? How could he have made the love of his life feel like she wasn’t loved? He runs a hand through his hair in distress, trying to wrap his head around your admission.

“I’ve been patient, Lando. I’ve been understanding, but you’re just never present. Not just physically, but mentally, too. I miss you.”

Lando looks at you sadly from across the room, disappointed in himself. He quickly closes the distance, reaching for your hand. His voice is soft when he speaks to you. “I do. I do love you, Y/N,” he says, caressing your face softly, pulling your chin up so your eyes meet, his teary eyes staring into your red ones. “You’re the love of my life. I care about you so much. You’re the most important to me, above anything else, and you always will be. Don’t forget that, okay? Promise me you’ll never forget that, baby.”

You sniffle, wiping away the tears that are slowly making their way down to your chin, while you nod. The sound physically pains him, his heart twisting torturously in his chest. He vows to never make you cry again.

“I’m so sorry I let it come this far, darling. I’ve been so wrapped up in everything, trying to win, trying to be perfect for the team that I didn’t see what I was losing in the process.”

You interrupt him, “I don’t need perfect, Lando. I just need you to be here. With me. Because if it keeps going like this… I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

Her words hang between them, and for the first time in weeks, Lando realises the gravity of what he stands to lose if he doesn’t make a change soon. He nods frantically. “Of course, baby. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. You say the word, and I’ll do it. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t love you, because I do. So much. I can’t lose you, I don’t ever want to come this close to losing you ever again.”

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go; like you’ll walk away from him as soon as he does. You press your face into his chest, missing the feeling of him against you and his comforting scent. The last time he touched you, let alone hugged you feels like ages ago.

“I’ll be better, I’ll make time for you, I promise,” he mumbles, his mouth grazing over your hair, as he tugs you impossibly closer into his tight embrace.

You smile faintly through your tears. “I believe you.”

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missadangel · 2 months ago

Text

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 8: Trick or Threat

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Chapter Summary: You and Harry are officially together, and everything’s going really well. However, something else is on the horizon… What could it be? Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 9,5k, SMUT & ROMANCE & INTRIGUE, feelings!!! fluffy, rom-com, lust, passion, jealousy, dirty talk, love triangle, intrigue, funeral, mention about death, car, racing authors note: Thank you all for your support, asks, comments, reblogs and likes. I appreciate each and every one of you! Love you all!

"When I returned from France, I took the reins of the business. Gerardo, Maria's husband, had managed things in my absence, but I could tell it was tough given their divorce. We're still piecing things back together."

In the morning, you two were lying in bed, just chatting and trying to unearth the smallest secrets lingering between you and Harry.

“So, was work really the reason you went to France or was it all about Lucy?”

Harry propped himself up on his elbow, looking deep into your eyes. “I can’t deny it; I was hurt. That much is true. But it didn’t last long. I threw myself into work to keep the melancholy at bay. But then I realized how unfair I was being to myself. Why should I mourn someone who wasn’t worth it?” His hand glided over the cream satin sheets. “So, I decided to move back to New York, even though Maria was always pushing me.”

“What about the matchmaker thing? What prompted you to feel such pressure to get married immediately after returning?”

He smirked. “Maria... You see she has always been like a sister to me since I was a kid. She was convinced I needed to tie the knot ASAP and organized everything. I went on five blind dates before I met you, and trust me, they were all disasters. It seemed like all they cared about was what I could offer them for a comfortable, luxurious life—totally loveless and insincere. Maria and I agreed to one last date, and if I didn't find what I was looking for, she promised to cut me loose.” He gently stroked your cheek. “When I saw Melanie Johnson’s profile, I was so relieved; it felt like just the evidence I needed to convince Maria. But when I came across your photo, something felt off about the information. Your appearance warmed my heart. I felt like there had to be a mistake, so I took a chance and wanted to meet you in person.”

You laughed. “Wow, looks like your instincts were right.”

“I think it was the best decision I’ve ever made,” he said, smiling as he slid his hand down your shoulder and along your arm, finally cupping your hand and leaning in to kiss it.

Your fingertips danced delicately across his lips, tracing their curves. "What about that Stella, the girl in the photo Maria baited me with?"

He sighed, a hint of a frown crossing his face. “I promise, it was nothing serious. That lasted just a week. She was always caught up in the modeling world, and honestly, I think I was too old to keep up with her glamorous lifestyle.”

“Well, now you’ve got me wondering—how many women have you been with? I’m almost afraid to ask,” you teased, narrowing your eyes playfully.

He tilted his head, clearly thinking it over.

His thinking phase made you tense.

“Too many to even remember.”

Your jaw dropped in mock horror. “Slut,” you teased again, nudging him with your shoulder.

Well, he was a really handsome guy—why would that surprise you?

He chuckled. “Okay, your turn, baby. Spill it.” His voice was low and teasing as he traced his nose along your cheek to your chin.

“Hmmm, way too many to count; it’s like counting grains of sand on a beach.”

Suddenly, he stopped, looking at you with a serious expression. You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at how intense he looked. “Stop giving me that look. I’m just joking with you—relax.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his temple.

“That was worse than I thought,” he murmured with curiosity in his tone. “So how many?”

“Only three,” you admitted shyly. “All back in Atlanta—if you count high school. The second was a summer fling gone wrong. And the last one, three years back, was just toxic—emotionally draining, like an automatic routine... It felt like there was something essential missing. It had zero—”

“Passion,” he cut in for you, finishing your sentence.

You locked eyes, an electric connection sparked between you. “Yeah, exactly,” you murmured, your gaze dropping to his lips.

At that moment, he pulled you in closer and kissed you, pouring all his hunger and desire into it—just the kind of passion you’ve been talking about.

Yeah, passion was the word.

What a powerful force it was.

It felt like you were meant for each other, completely in sync. Being with him brought a sense of happiness you’d never experienced before. He didn’t just want your body; he craved your voice, your scent, every little part of you. It was like he found a piece of himself he thought he lost, and he was beyond thrilled about it.

What more could he ask for?

“So you're a chaste little kitten, huh?” he said, his lips brushing your collarbone. “Considering the dirty sounds you make with me, I was expecting something different.”

“Mmm, like what?” you teased, playing with his curls.

“I kind of thought many guys from your past would pop up.”

You chuckled lightly. “Nope. I’ve been so caught up with work that I barely have time to think about love. And let’s be real, I’m no beauty queen or model or anything—I’m not exactly turning heads everywhere I go.”

He pulled back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes alight with sincerity. “Are you kidding? You’re heartbreakingly beautiful. I’ve never told this to anyone before, but the first time I laid eyes on you, it felt like I was struck by lightning.”

You giggled, a playful spark fluttering in your chest. “That sounds like something straight out of a movie, or maybe even a cliché.”

“I know it does, but it’s the truth, believe me. I really appreciate the real Melanie for bringing us together, even if it was in a pretty strange way."

Your smile widened. “Same here. And about those sounds I make, I have to admit, no one has ever made me feel this alive before.” His lips tugged into a teasing smirk. “Now I’m the one sounding like a cliché, right?”

"I’ll gladly accept that as a compliment.”

"You should," you laughed and pressed your lips to his ear. "Because in my previous experiences I have often "pretended". But with you it's all real you slutty ol'man."

He laughed darkly. "I fluttered, baby," he said as he lifted the sheet off you, exposing your body to the sunlight flooding the room. He pressed you down on the bed with his weight, pinning your wrists over your head with one hand and holding your chin in the other. You swallowed hard, blinking repeatedly as waves of ecstasy and exhilaration surged through you. "I really hope you won’t be mad at me for doing my best to make you this old man's little slut." He leaned down, grabbed your lips, and sank forcefully into your mouth, spreading your legs with his knee.

"Harry." Fluttering your eyes open you searched his face silently pleading with him to ease the bubbling sexual tension built between you.

Pinching hard on your stiffened breasts he listened to you yelp. “Be a good girl and tell me.” He rubbed the tip of his hard cock against your slit, causing you to writhe and moan with ecstasy. Your body on fire, your breath filled with heat. “You wanna be my little slut?” He whispered sweetly.

With your body trembling, cheeks burning with heat, back arching, biting your lower lip you nodded frantically. “Yes,” you breathed harshly. Your body shuddered and flushed in anticipation at the thought of being filled by him.

And you were out of patience.

Your eyes flashed with a glint of mischief, pulling down your teeth crashed hard into his neck as you sucked roughly on his skin until you felt his hand leave your chest and clasped around your throat.

“Naughty kitten,” he purred with delight.

The sound of you moaning and mewing like a real kitten into his ear sent a churning sensation through his stomach, sending him dangerously over the edge.

Not so soon, he thought himself, eager to make it last longer.

He turned his head to find your lips once more and pulled them close to his, devouing your mouth eagerly, passionetly. Grabbing your thighs tightly, he plunged himself deep with your dripping pussy. “Fuck-” he groaned “-that never gets old.” He started into a pulverizing rhythm of pulling himself almost completely out and then pushing himself as deep within you as your bodies allowed.

It was that moment of struggle again, he felt incredible inside you, he felt alive, indestructible, but he couldn't wait to get to the grand finale, eager to spill himself inside you, desperate to feel your walls close around him, and once again, he was caught in the middle.

It felt like he could never get enough of you, not at all.

Egged on by your gasping for breath he switched his hand positions from your waist to your hips to bring you both closer to the edge.

Your eyes glazed over with ecstasy watching the muscles on his arms and chest flex as he pounded into you mercilessly. You loved the way his brow furrowed in concentration as you made love. His body was perfect, like a statue sculpted by the many hours spent.

“Mmmh—I don’t mind being your slut—if this is the view,” you choked between his brutal thrusts, gripping his biceps wildly. “Fuck your little slut harder!"

“You’re so—mmh—you’re so fucking dirty, baby. I love it. Gonna come—.” Letting out a loud groan he felt your walls contracting hard around his throbbing member. His arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the bed, pulling your body close to his.

“Me too,” you replied breathlessly, wrapping your arms around his neck, your nails dug into the back of his neck. Hopping onto his lap violently up and down caused your nails to graze his skin painfully, and he groaned loudly.

However, he didn't even mind if you almost made him bleed.

You could do whatever you wanted with him; he was yours to take.

Ragged breathing halted as he poured himself into you. His movements slowed as you held onto one another. He leaned your bodies back down to rest against the bed.

Your lips sucked softly against his flesh, tasting the glistening salty tang that coated his body. Gratefully, he returned the favour, licking your neck up to your chin, biting, sucking, savouring your sweet taste and the moment itself.

Feeling his heart beat returned to its normal steady rhythm you looked up to see his face looking down smiling at you. "I love you, baby," he purred.

"I love you too, Harry."

He smiled before leaning down to kiss you. “Shower?”

“Count me in,” you said, laughing.

His mouth broke into a playful, cheeky grin this time. "How about a hot shower?"

He asked as if you hadn't just had incredibly hot sex.

You widened your eyes in surprise. "Seriously? It’s been like 5 or 6 times since last night, and you're still being greedy, mister."

He buried his nose in your hair, breathing you in. “You bring it out in me, baby.”

"Okay, but let’s make it quick; I need to be ready for work soon."

He lifted you effortlessly into his arms. "It’ll be the fastest and hottest shower ever—buckle up!"

You both giggled all the way as he carried you to the bathroom.

As Harry dropped you off at the hotel around noon, a wave of relief washed over you. Alan wasn’t lurking around, and that was a small victory. You couldn't bring yourself to share the weight of what Alan had told you last time—not yet. The prospect of creating unnecessary tension made your stomach churn. Besides, he would surely come to understand the seriousness of your relationship in time, and he would give up, wouldn’t he?

Before saying goodbye, Harry mentioned he had a special event to attend that evening and invited you to join him. Your instinct was to decline—after all, you had a million things to do—but his persistent charm won you over. You didn’t want to disappoint him, so you reluctantly agreed. That meant you had to cut your work short to prepare, which sent you rushing into the hotel, straight to the kitchen.

In the midst of the chaos, Bruno reminded you about the upcoming fair. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he explained that if you launched your own bakery brand in time, it could be the perfect opportunity to promote it. That news felt like a double-edged sword. On one hand, you had promised Harry you would leave your cleaning job behind, meaning you’d spend the entire week at the hotel—including those dreaded Mondays and Thursdays. Your internship was finally nearing its end. But on the flip side, the thought of starting your own brand meant you’d need to open a shop soon, which required financial support. Harry was eager to help, but you felt a deep sense of obligation that made accepting his generosity uncomfortable.

And, of course, with your renewed schedule, you’d definitely run into Alan more often.

Just what you needed.

Shaking off the worry, you reminded yourself that you were close to achieving your dreams; patience was key. But the moment you spotted Alan in the dining room, anxiety flared up again. The memory of your last conversation haunted you, and just seeing him sent your nerves into overdrive. Then you noticed Maria seated across from him, her expression growing increasingly troubled. Each time she glanced at him, her frustration deepened, and when she abruptly stood up, you felt compelled to go after her.

“Maria!” you called out, sprinting after her. She turned around, and your heart sank—she looked on the verge of tears.

“Are you okay? What happened?” you asked softly, touching her shoulder gently.

“It's nothing, really,” she replied, pulling a handkerchief from her bag, but her eyes revealed a different story.

“Come on, Maria. You look awful. What’s going on between you and Alan?”

Her lip trembled as she fought to mask her anger. “He’s an asshole—a truly wicked, evil man.”

“What do you mean? What did he do?”

“Just forget it, okay? I’m begging you, please don’t tell Harry you saw me here, especially with Alan.”

“But if he asks me—”

“Please,” she interrupted, almost pleading.

Seeing her like this was shocking; she was usually so strong and fearless. “Okay, of course, I won’t say anything,” you assured her softly.

She pulled out a compact mirror, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll catch you at the reception tonight,” she said, turning towards the exit.

You watched her leave, your mind swirling with questions about what had happened to upset her so deeply.

After work, while waiting for Harry to pick you up in the hotel lobby, you decided to give Zoe a call. Thankfully, her ankle had fully healed, and she told you she'd be back at work on Monday.

“Oh my God, I can't believe you two are finally official!” Zoe's excited voice rang through the phone.

“Yeah, it's about time,” you laughed. “So, how did everything go with John?”

“It went amazing! Just so you know, we're officially a couple now. Our first date is lined up for next week.”

“That’s fantastic, Zoe! I’m so happy for you.”

You couldn't help but wonder if John had shared everything with her. You knew you should ask her in person instead of over the phone.

“Since you’re at your boyfriend’s place now, when do you plan to pick up your things?”

“Whoa, I’m not moving in just yet. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Wait a sec... Are you trying to rush me or something? Or is John thinking about moving in?”

She fell silent for a moment.

“Babe, don’t you think this is all moving a bit too fast? It feels kind of early, right? I mean, does it really make sense to move in together when you’ve just started dating?” You were running your fingers through your hair when you suddenly noticed someone next to you. You hung up just as you caught Alan giving you this awkward smile. “Call you back…”

What the hell?

How long had he been standing there, and did he hear any of that?

Avoiding his gaze, you got up, acutely aware of his eyes on you.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk today. How have you been?”

The jerk acted as if nothing had happened.

Why would you want to talk to him anyway?

That was the real question.

"Fine," you replied coldly, looking away, your tone sharper than intended, fingers tightening around your bag's strap. Just then, he reached out, his hand clasping yours.

“What happened to your hand?”

Oh right, when you were rushing around in the kitchen, you accidentally splashed hot oil on yourself.

Bruno had treated the burn, it wasn’t serious but still.

“It’s nothing,” you said, trying to pull your hand back, but he held on tight.

You looked away as he examined your hand, and your heart nearly stopped when you caught sight of Harry through the glass windows at the entrance. Panic surged through you, and you tried to tug your hand free from Alan's grip with all your might. Immediately, you regretted it—the sudden burn stung painfully against his skin, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan.

At that moment, Harry spotted your expression and strode through the revolving door toward you, shoving Alan away.

Alan stumbled back, initially shocked but then laughing angrily.

"What the heck are you doing to her?"

"Harry, calm down."

But he didn’t hear you; the two men were locked in a tense, unwavering stare. Alan casually adjusted his tie. “Don't be so dramatic, Castillo.”

Harry turned to you and stepped protectively in front of you. “Why are you always lurking around her? What's your problem?”

People in the lobby were watching intently, all eyes glued to the unfolding scene.

“Don’t be ridicolus. This place is mine. It’s my hotel, and she’s my employee.”

"I wonder if you’re equally concerned about your other employees?”

You grabbed Harry’s arm, “Harry, please, let’s just go.” You tugged at him as the curious gazes around you felt more pressing.

But seriously, he wouldn’t even look at you.

What the fuck?

“I warn you. Stay away from her.”

“And if I don’t?”

Harry was fuming, and you gripped his arm tighter.

"Alan, cut it out!" you snapped at him. With all your strength, you pulled Harry toward the exit. “Let’s just get out of here. Everyone's staring at us.”

“Keep away from my girlfriend, Finnigan,” he warned, pointing his finger at him, his voice low and threatening.

“Did you bother to mention your family background to her? I’ll bet she’ll walk away the moment she finds out.”

That crossed the line for Harry. He grabbed Alan by the collar, his fury erupting. “You say one more word, and I'll make you regret it.”

Alan shot back with a smirk, “Ooh, I’m really scared, Castillo.”

You stepped between the two men and pushed them both apart with an assertive shove. “Enough! Just stop it!”

They turned to look at you, along with the doorman and a few others. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and frankly, I don’t care. But I’m not going to stand here and watch this nonsense,” you declared, pivoting on your heel and striding toward the exit.

Harry shot Alan a glare, pushed him aside, and quickly followed you outside. “Wait, please,” he said, reaching out to grab your wrist and turning you to face him. “Let me see your hand.”

You turned away from him. “Oh, now you’re concerned? I guess you were too busy bickering with Alan to notice.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, but when I saw he was touching you, it really ticked me off.” He examined your hand. “What exactly happened?”

“It’s just a little burn,” you replied with an exasperated huff.

But as you saw the worry on his face while he tended to your wound, your anger began to wane. “This is becoming really tiresome, Harry.”

He looked straight into your eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I want you to explain what’s going on between you and him. It clearly goes back a long way.”

He glanced at your hand again. “There’s nothing to explain.”

“Oh yeah? It certainly doesn’t look that way to me.”

He brought your hand to his lips, planting a gentle kiss over the bandage. “Baby, I promise I’ll tell you everything later, but right now, we really need to go. Come on,” he said, taking your other hand and leading you to the car.

Harry stood behind you in the softly lit dressing room, carefully helping you zip up your dress. The fabric clung to you perfectly, and as you turned to admire yourself in the mirror, you felt a rush of excitement. He stepped closer, his presence both calming and electrifying. He gently brushed your hair back, a tender gesture that made your heart flutter. He fastened a delicate pearl necklace around your neck, the cool beads contrasting with the warmth of his kiss on your cheek. “You look absolutely stunning, darling,” he whispered, his lips brushing tantalizingly against your shoulder. His gaze locked onto your reflection, and he frowned slightly. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs gently caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “This is our first formal event as a couple, and there will be many more to come, so you might as well get used to it." His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. “Maybe someday you’ll be attending as Mrs. Castillo?” He grinned at your reflection.

You turned to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I would love that."

With a grin broadening across his face, he leaned in for a kiss that ignited a fire within you, passionate and consuming. His strong hands slid from your waist down to your hips, pulling you against him, trapping you between his body and the wardrobe door.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your heart racing. “Harry, we really should stop, or we won’t make it to the reception at all.”

He chuckled, his laughter rich. “Right,” he said, reluctantly releasing you and stepping back.

“It’s a good thing my lipstick is waterproof,” you joked, shooting him a playful smirk.

He licked his lips. “I loved the taste.”

“Strawberry,” you said, linking your arm through his.

“Mmm, that's nice,” he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes. “But nothing beats your own taste; you’re ever so much more delicious.”

You covered his lips with your hand, giggling softly. “Shut… up,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “You’re about to get me dangerously wet, ol' man.”

He kissed your palm before gently removing it from his mouth. “So, we’ll continue where we left off later?”

“Deal,” you giggled once more.

Before leaving the room together, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and whispered in your ear, “Can’t fuckin' wait, baby.”

“Everyone's staring at me,” you murmured, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you stepped into the hall where the event was taking place, with Harry right beside you.

“Of course they are; you’re the most beautiful woman here,” he whispered in your ear. It was sweet, but it didn’t do much to calm your nerves.

The room buzzed with chatter, the light baroque music playing softly in the background, glasses clinking, and the upper crust exchanging eye rolls. Harry was right—it was a scene you’d have to get used to being with him.

But it was a struggle...

As you and Harry made your way to the center of the hall, heads turned and eyes lingered on you. Some of Harry's friends approached, chatting you up. Harry beamed with pride as he introduced you, one hand gently tracing your back, warmed by the exposed skin of your dress. His touch calmed you, reminding you of his presence. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him as he spoke earnestly to the others; he looked so handsome and charming in his suit. You could feel the jealousy of the other women in the room directed at you.

“Where could Maria be?” Harry murmured, his eyes darting through the crowd.

She said she was coming, you thought, almost speaking out loud before recalling that you had to keep quiet about seeing her at the hotel earlier. Just then, a familiar face approached—his friend from the last wedding, the groom himself.

“How’s it going, man?” Harry greeted him with a hug.

“Hey Harry,” he replied with a smile, then turned to you. “Aren't you the waitress from my wedding?”

“Yes,” you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“I owe you one. I heard from Lucas that you saved the wedding cake. Harry, you’re lucky to have such a diligent, versatil girlfriend,” he laughed heartily.

Harry turned to you, “I really am.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth at his words.

“So, are you a chef or something since you're so talented?” he asked.

“Kind of. I'm doing an internship to become a pastry chef right now,” you said with a smile.

“That’s awesome. I bet you make some really tasty scones.”

“She totally does. They all taste amazing; you wouldn't even believe it,” Harry added with a proud smile. “My amazing girlfriend will have her certificate soon and plans to open her own shop.” He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, and you smiled shyly.

Suddenly, a figure caught your eye—someone famous. Excitement surged through you as you recognized him. “It’s Sebastien Loeb, oh my God!” You turned to Harry, “Can I meet him, please?”

Harry squinted in that direction. “He’s a rally driver, right?”

“Yes! Nine-time WRC champion. His iconic car: The Citroën Xsara, but I can’t decide between the C4 and the DS3. I have to ask him how he aced that course in his last race.” You started moving toward him, leaving Harry momentarily behind.

His friend, clearly impressed, leaned in close to Harry. “She makes great desserts, watches rally racing, and knows about cars? Harry, you'd better marry her.”

Harry chuckled. “I absolutely will.” He winked at him before maneuvering through the crowd to catch up.

“Hello,” you greeted when you reached Sebastien.

“Hello there,” he replied, offering a friendly handshake. You gave it a squeeze. Just then, Harry showed up behind you, and he and Sebastien did the handshake thing too.

“I’m a huge fan, Mr. Loeb. It’s too bad you’re no longer racing. We need more talent like yours,” you said admiringly.

Sebastien laughed shyly. “I was surprised to see a lady watching the races; I’ve been surrounded by men all night,” he said, glancing at Harry, who smiled but seemed a bit uneasy. “May I ask what your favorite race is, ma’am?”

“Rally de France, bitche 2—your 60th victory and 7th championship, of course. What an incredible finish, passing Dani Sordo at the last moment. Racing in all that mud must’ve been challenging.”

“It certainly was; it was a memorable yet tough rally—I’ll never forget it,” he leaned in closer. “Between you and me, that race is my favorite too,” he said with a wink.

"What was your setup at that race btw?"

He rasied his eyebrows in surprise but continued. "Well for the alignment (Rear) Camber Angle -1.00 °. And brakes, force was 3030 Nm. And gear..."

"6th I presume?"

"Exactly."

"Perfect."

"Wow, I've never encountered a woman so enthusiastic to learn about car setup," he laughed.

You couldn’t help but giggle.

Harry forced a smile, but inside, he was drowning in jealousy.

Was Sebastien flirting with you?

“Darling,” he said, pulling you closer. “How about we grab a drink over there? I’m sure Mr. Loeb has plenty of people to chat with, right?”

Sebastien nodded. "Meeting a woman who knows so much about cars and is genuinely excited about them is a rare treat. You’re quite fortunate, Mr. Castillo."

Harry's grip on you tightened. “Absolutely—it’s fantastic to have such a unique woman. You can’t imagine how special she is to me."

You sensed the rising tension and extended your hand to Sebastien. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Loeb. You’re a legend and always will be,” you said, shaking his hand again, but Harry was pulling you back toward him.

“The honor is all mine. Just call me Sebastien next time we meet, and I really hope it’s soon.” He gave your hand a friendly shake.

“All right, Sebastien,” you replied, waving goodbye.

As some guys walked up to him, you turned to Harry while Sebastien was still chatting with them. “What's up with you, ol' man?” you asked.

“Are you seriously just going to talk to him all night?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous.”

He shrugged and grabbed a couple of champagne glasses from a tray held by a waiter. “I'm not.”

You took the glass he handed you. “Harry, he’s a 52-year-old married guy with a kid.”

“Good,” he replied, looking away while taking a sip.

You laughed, took a sip yourself, "I can't believe it." Then leaned in a bit closer, your fingers lightly brushing his collar. “You know... That’s actually kind of hot,” you said playfully, giving him a flirty look.

Harry met your gaze. “If you keep looking at me like that, baby, I might just scoop you up and dash out of here without caring who’s watching.”

You chuckled playfully and leaned in closer to him, bringing your lips near his ear. "And if you keep talking like that, mister, I'll get so wet I'll might have to take my panties off."

He swallowed, and you grinned at his look. "Fuck," he said quietly, realizing he was becoming hard. When you noticed what was going on, you put your hand to your lips and giggled. "Oops I didn't mean that."

"Naughty kitty," he said, laughing. "I have to punish you when we get home."

You playfully brushed against him with your thigh, a teasing smile on your lips. "Hmm, I can’t help but wonder what kind of punishment you have in store ol' man."

He reached back and squeezed the part of you that was touching him, his voice low and sultry. "I’ll be thinking about that all night long, baby." He followed up with a lingering kiss on your cheek, sending your heart racing.

Fortunately, people began to approach, chatting and mingling, which helped ease the sexual tension between you and him a bit.

Melanie and her mom made their way over, and even though you tried to tune them out, they invited you to join them. You decided to go along while Harry caught up with some friends for business. Still, even from a distance, you and Harry exchanged smiles and playful winks, the sparks between you never quite fading.

Melanie's mother, as usual, didn’t hold back in her uncouth and disrespectful manner, leaving your pride wounded as she continuously pointed out that, among other women, you worked as a housekeeper in her home. After excusing yourself, you stepped into the women's restroom, glanced at your reflection in the mirror, sighed deeply, and muttered to yourself that you had seen this coming, reminding yourself to stay calm. This was simply how the world worked, and it always would be; nothing truly mattered as long as Harry was by your side. Yet, your pride still stung—after all, there was no shame in earning a living through hard work.

Did they truly build their fortunes through their own hard work and determination?

Nope.

Some got lucky by being born into rich families, while others just married someone wealthy.

Those ruthless bitches.

Just then, the last person you'd hoped to see approached the sink next to you—Lucy. She turned on the faucet and caught your eye in the mirror, her expression a mix of complexity and calm. “You must be having a tough time,” she said while washing her hands.

“Excuse me?” You refused to meet her gaze as you dried your hands off.

“Those women—they're all about high society, luxury cars, opulent homes, and designer clothes. Their conversations make it feel like you come from a different world, right? It must be hard for you. Even though you dress like them, you don’t quite fit in,” she remarked, glancing at your dress and necklace while opting to dry her hands with a paper towel.

“Nothing changes with what you wear or where you live; it all comes down to who you are. If your heart is in the wrong place, you can drape yourself in the most beautiful outfits and still be ugly inside.”

She let out a laugh, one filled with disbelief. “You can preach all you like, but that doesn’t change reality.”

“I’d rather hold onto the truth I believe in,” you replied.

“There you are!”

You both turned to Melanie’s voice. She was glaring at Lucy, fury radiating from her. “You little snake! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Melanie, what are you doing?” you interjected.

Ignoring you, she zeroed in on Lucy. “This bitch is trying to set Nate up on a date. What is it? ‘Perfect match’? Now I'm going to make your face perfect match with my palm!” she shouted as she lunged at her.

You quickly grabbed her arm.

“Are you out of your mind? Your parents are right here! You need to snap out of it. Whatever issues you have with her, just try to talk it out.” You attempted to calm her, but she remained agitated.

Lucy quickly shook off her shock. “I’m just doing my job, helping my client, Miss Johnson,” she explained.

“Really? He’s my boyfriend, you bitch! Do you honestly believe he wants to marry? He’s just looking for a hookup!”

Well she had a point, it was Nate after all.

Lucy tucked her purse under her arm and glanced back at her before stepping out of the restroom. “I don’t know; he seemed sincere to me. Besides, he’ll definitely want to get married when he meets the right match I’ve found for him. I’m confident in my skills,” she said with a smug smile.

"You bitch!" she barked.

You grabbed her again but she was hard to restrain.

"Don’t yell! People will hear you. Do you really want to make a scene?"

She looked at you and asked, "Why are you covering for her?"

"I’m just looking out for you and your family. I don’t want you to embarrass your dad."

"Right. That girl you're defending was just talking to your boyfriend."

You stopped and pulled your hands away as she laughed, adjusting her dress. "Oops, huh? I heard they used to date. You’re mad at her, aren’t you?"

"There has to be a reasonable explanation," you insisted, though your frustration was hard to hide. "Keep on being reasonable, polyanna, but I'm gonna kick her ass," she said it and took off after her.

“Melanie! You really…” you called out, chasing after her.

Despite all your efforts, Melanie, as immature as ever, lunged at Lucy from behind, grabbed her hair, and yelled, acting like a cheap prostitute. At that moment, everyone turned to look at Jack and his wife. Anger, annoyance, and frustration were etched on his face, matched by the condemnation in the gazes of those around them. He didn’t deserve this.

Just as you were about to intervene with Melanie, a hand grasped your arm and pulled you back.

“Stay out of this; let her parents handle her,” Harry said, his voice as firm as his gaze. But it softened when he turned to you. "I think the night is over. How about we head out now?"

You looked at him and nodded. “Yeah,” you agreed. He wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked together toward the exit, but your eyes were still on Jack, Melanie, and her mother.

The people who had been focused on them were now absorbed in their drama, and you couldn't help but feel a little sad for them.

As the driver took you to Harry's house, a comfortable silence filled the car, even though your hands were intertwined. You were about to break the quiet and ask him about his conversation with Lucy when he turned to you at the same moment, both of you beginning to speak simultaneously.

"Lucy—"

"Why—"

You both chuckled at your coincidental timing.

"You go first."

"No, you tell me first," he replied, flashing a smile.

"Alright, I was curious about what you and Lucy talked about," you said, pressing your lips together, pressing your lips together, feeling a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

"Actually, that’s what I was gonna say."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that so?"

‘Look, I generally brush her off in situations like this, but this time, it was about you, and I let her speak.’

"What did Lucy say about me?"

"She said there was something going on between you and Alan, and that it was messing with their relationship." He looked at you, his face serious.

"Harry, I—" You tried to argue, but he interrupted you with a gentle touch to your hair. "I know you wouldn’t do anything like that, and I get that he’s got this weird interest in you, but I really wish you would’ve said something."

"Harry, there’s nothing to say. He’s my boss, and I’m just putting up with it until I leave his hotel—nothing more."

"What do you mean, 'putting up with it'?"

Oops, wrong choice of words.

Damn it.

"So until my internship is over—"

"Did he say something inappropriate to you?" His tone turned angry.

You took his hands in both of yours, "No, don't worry, it’s nothing like that."

He seemed to search your eyes for the truth, remained unconvinced.

“But it’s not fair.”

"What’s not fair?"

"You want me to spill my secrets while you keep yours hidden. You said you're gonna tell me everything between you and Alan."

He let out a deep sigh. "You’re right. Alright, then I’ll share. Our families have known each other for a long time—our fathers were good friends until some tension grew between them." His expression shifted, as if he dreaded what he was about to reveal. "His father had feelings for... my mother, or at least that’s what my mother has said. She doesn't want to talk about it much. My father passed away when I was ten, so I never learned the whole story from him and I'm not sure about the details."

"Alan’s father had feelings for your mother? Was he married at that time?"

"Yeah, I was six—I have only faint memories of his father, and Alan was around my age."

"Well, that certainly clears things up."

"Every time we crossed paths at family gatherings, events... whatever they were, there was this fragile veneer of civility, yet beneath it, the tension simmered, thick and palpable. The gossip—my mother weathered so much of it. That’s why she hasn't stepped outside since my father passed. And since..." His voice quivered, breaking as shadows of the past lingered in his eyes.

In that moment, your heart ached for him. "Since what, Harry?"

He released a long, shaky sigh as if trying to exhale his sorrow. "Since my sister's death."

Your eyes widened in disbelief, a chill running through you. "Harry, I... I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry."

He looked fragile, a storm of emotions battling just beneath the surface, and without thinking, you slid closer, wrapping your arms around him, offering solace. He bowed his head, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your hair, grounding you both in that moment. "It’s alright, baby. I was young; it’s been a long time." His fingers grazed through your hair, a comforting gesture, before he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. A faint smile broke through the sorrow. "I should take you to meet my mother. She can’t leave the house, but we can go see her."

You froze, feeling a rush of tension. "Don’t you think it’s too soon?"

He caressed your cheek with his knuckles. "Too soon for you, perhaps, but late for me. I’m an old man remember? I don’t want to miss a single moment with you, darling. We should embrace everything life has to offer, fast and fully as a couple.” His voice lowered to a whisper in your ear, filled with sincerity, before he leaned down, capturing your lips with a soft kiss. "You’re my everything.”

The week flew by, and at last, Chef Bruno announced that you would be able to wrap up your internship the following week. A wave of relief washed over you—not only would you finally be free from the daily trek to the hotel for work, but you also hadn’t seen Alan in days.

Now, the focus shifted to working hard until the fair, where you planned to build your brand by creating original desserts and baked goods to showcase. Thankfully, your billionaire boyfriend Harry had a spacious kitchen that you could use. Since you were planning to move in with him anyway—especially after Zoe and John's relationship sped up your decision—the transition felt exciting.

The day you left home with your suitcase to move into Harry's penthouse could easily have been the happiest day of your life. Both of you seemed thrilled that your relationship had reached this milestone, and everything was going smoothly.

Throughout the week, while Harry was at work, you were busy at home, baking as many desserts and pastries as possible. When he returned, he devoured them all and offered his critiques.

On the weekend, you realized you were low on supplies and had to hit up the supermarket for a big grocery run. Harry stepped in to help, and you both went to the mall together, like a married couple.

He also mentioned that he wanted to try baking cupcakes for the first time, which you found cute and encouraged him to do. While you were busy whipping up the cream, the oven timer chimed. Harry slipped on his oven mitts and carefully pulled a tray of cupcakes out of the oven. “Here’s my first solo batch,” he said with a proud smile.

As you looked at the cupcakes, you noticed they were a bit too light in color. “Hmm, babe, don’t you think they look a little undercooked? They probably need more time in the oven,” you suggested.

Dipping your finger into one of the cupcakes, you lifted it up to find the batter still runny. Licking your fingertip, you joked, “Here’s a little advice: if it’s still runny, it’s not a cupcake; it’s a beverage.” With a chuckle, you returned to whipping the cream on the counter.

“Alright, I’ll pop these ‘runny’ amigos back in the oven,” Harry said, putting the tray back.

“And please increase the time,” you said without looking at him.

But he couldn't help but gaze at you from behind, admiring how you looked while cooking. Out of the blue, he wrapped his arms around you and showered your cheek and neck with quick, playful kisses.

“Harry, stop! You’re going to make me spill the cream. What are you doing?”

He gently swept your hair to one side, revealing your shoulder, and you felt his lips caress your skin. “I can’t resist; you look stunning, whipping up delicious treats in my kitchen, like you're already my wife,” he murmured softly, making you giggle.

His hand slid up your thighs beneath your skirt, lingering just above your hem. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to keep my hands to myself when you’re wearing that dress?"

Your heart began to race. "Harry..." you murmured.

He lifted the hem of your dress and pressed himself against you. You gasped as you felt how hard he was. You almost dropped the cream container.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, spun you around, and lifted you onto the counter. Before you could even process what was happening, he pressed his lips against yours. What started as a sweet kiss quickly turned into something much more passionate, and without thinking, you instinctively draped your arms around his neck, spreading your legs for him. He leaned in closer, drawing you to the edge of the counter. One hand rested on your hips while the other gently traced its way along your thighs. He let out a soft moan as you wrapped your legs around his waist, his clothed cock teasing you in a delightful way.

Now you were as eager as he was, consumed with a sudden desire.

What a beautiful persuasion, what a beautiful surrender.

"All right," you said, breaking the kiss with difficulty. "But let's hurry, there are lots of cupcakes and desserts to make." you said as you tried to take off your kitchen apron, but his fingers had already reached behind you and untied the apron string.

"We've got 15 minutes."

His hands reached under the skirt cupping your ass, picked you up, then turned you around, reset the timer, and turned the heat down a bit. "Make it 30," he said with a smirk

You raised one eyebrow, "Slow cooking... Hmm, that could totally be a new way to get a better crust. I can’t wait to try these."

"Me too but first, I want to relish on that sweet pussy of yours," he said kissing you again, sending delightful shivers through your spine.

His words were enough to turn you on.

It was hot... so damn hot..

With that, he carried you in his arms to the bedroom, taking your panties off and throwing them only-god-knows-where on his way.

Your moans and giggles echoing around the hall.

“Now, get ready guys… here comes the red velvet cake—the angel on the outside, the devil on the inside.” You proudly presented your dessert to everyone gathered around Harry's large table in the dining room, where Maria, Mia, Oliver, Zoe, John, and Harry were all eagerly tasting and voting on the treats you had whipped up throughout the evening.

Maria was the first to raise her hand. “I’m giving this dessert an 8, darling, I’m not a fan of the sweetness from the white chocolate.”

“I’ll try adding agave next time; I’d love for you to give it a shot,” you replied with a smile. “How about you all?”

Oliver chimed in, “I’d give it a 9.”

Zoe followed, saying, “I also give it a 9.”

"I think it’s a 9 for me too," John added, sharing a smile with Zoe.

You turned to Mia. “What about you sweetheart?”

“I think it’s a 9 as well,” Mia said.

All eyes shifted to Harry, waiting for his verdict. “I’m giving it a 10, it’s fantastic. Can we even go higher than that and give it an 11?” He grinned at you, and you laughed, leaning in to give him a quick kiss.

Maria rolled her eyes. “You’ve been giving everything a 10 that your girlfriend has made tonight. I’m not sure how objective you’re being.”

Shrugging, “But she did make everything amazing,” Harry said, lifting your hand and kissing it softly. “You’re going to shine at that fair, baby.”

"Yeah, I know you’ll do great," Zoe added supportively.

“Did you find the brand name?” Maria asked. “Mia and I put together a list for you, didn’t we bunnie?”

“Yeah, here it is,” Mia said, pulling out her tablet and setting it on the table. You quickly glanced at it.

“Wow, this is all fantastic, ladies. Good job, It's tough to choose, though.”

“Honey, we should probably get going,” Zoe said as she stood up.

You looked at her, “Okay, thanks for coming, guys,” as you hugged both her and John.

“Good luck at the fair,” John smiled at you.

“Thank you John."

“Good night, everyone! See ya,” Zoe called as the others waved goodbye.

“See you later,” Harry said as you followed them towards the door.

“Thanks for being cool about John coming along,” you said to Harry as they stepped into the lift.

“When I say ‘let me into your world,’ I mean that John is part of it since he’s your cousin’s boyfriend. It’s all good. Besides, everything between us is just a minor blip from the past,” he said.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and sighed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, mi amor,” he said softly, pulling you close and kissing you.

Just then, a throat clearing interrupted the moment. You both pulled back and turned to see Maria standing there, her phone in hand.

“Harry, you need to see this,” she said, handing him her mobile.

The smile faded from Harry’s face as he glanced at the screen before returning it to her.

“What happened?” you asked, feeling a knot of worry forming.

“Alan…” he mumbled.

“His mother has passed away,” Maria added.

Silence hung in the air as you studied Harry. “Are you going to the funeral?”

“No, it wouldn’t feel right for me to go,” he replied.

You gently touched his arm. “But you’re not responsible for what happened in the past, Harry. Besides, it’s a funeral.”

“Still, I don’t think I’d want to see him if I were him,” he said.

“Harry is right, I’ll go,” Maria suggested.

Sensing an undertone in Maria’s voice that left you uneasy. She was somehow keeping something from Harry about her conversation with Alan earlier that day, and it made you feel uneasy.

Finally, the day you had eagerly anticipated arrived. It was the end of your internship, and Chef Bruno was set to hand you the letter for your certification. Harry had been called away from the company early that day, so you decided to go on your own.

The walk wasn’t far anyway.

Upon entering the hotel lobby, you were taken aback by the sight of a crowd gathered there. You recognized the doorman and approached him. “What’s going on? Why is everyone gathered here?”

“Mr. Finnegan,” he replied, his voice laced with distress. “He’s declared that no one can enter the bar or dining room, and the customers are absolutely furious.”

“Is he okay?” you asked, remembering he had just lost his mother. You understood the pain of loss all too well.

“Honestly, I've worked here for 20 years, and I’ve never seen him like this before,” the doorman replied.

“Is Bruno around?”

“Not yet.”

“Alright, I’ll wait in the kitchen, thanks.”

As you made your way toward the kitchen, murmurs of anxiety rippled through the air, the tension palpable. You pulled out your mobile phone, scrolled through your contacts for Bruno’s name, and pressed call. As it rang, you took off your coat, draping it casually over a chair, while casting glances at the other waiters, whose faces mirrored the stark worry that filled the room. They were nervous about Alan, how he had secluded himself in the dining room for hours, demanding solitude. When Bruno called to say he would be late, your anxiety heightened.

What a last day at the hotel!

It was supposed to be a celebration in the air, but instead, there was worry, sadness, and frustration.

You started to feel bored waiting in the kitchen with the other waiters. You decided to glance through the door to the dining room, and it shocked you. Alan sat at a table, his clothes disheveled, hair in disarray, and clearly upset. Despite your previous feelings toward him—you clearly didn't like him—a wave of pity washed over you.

Marvelous.

After a while, he called out to the waiters, who exchanged worried glances. No one seemed brave enough to approach him in his current state.

You made a decision that you suspected you might regret later. “I’ll go,” you said, trying to reassure them while putting yourself in a highly tense situation.

As you stepped into the dining room and walked toward his table, he didn’t look up initially, but once you stood beside him, his gaze met yours, surprise evident on his face.

“I’m really sorry for your loss,” you said softly, barely above a whisper but sincerely.

You felt uncomfortable under his intense stare and quickly looked away.

“Please, sit down,” he urged, almost pleadingly.

Usually, you wouldn’t have done so—after all, he wasn’t your boss anymore. But given his distress, you took a seat.

“Alan, you really need to gather yourself,” you said coolly.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be alright soon. Don’t worry.”

“Not that I’m worried, but your actions are really causing a stir among the customers, and the staff are starting to feel uneasy. And let's not even get started on the reporters hanging around."

“Do you really think I care about them? I’m done caring about anyone or anything,” he said, his tone stern as he focused on you. “Except you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, don’t start that again.”

“Oh, honey, I haven’t even begun yet, trust me.”

Your arms crossed defensively. “What in the world are you talking about?”

He leaned in closer, his face getting serious. “Just end things with Harry.”

What the fuck?

What on earth was he saying?

“Alan, I think you should—”

“You won’t? Fine. Then I’ll ruin him.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you tried to comprehend his words. “What are you even talking about?”

“My mother died because of his mother.”

“Harry isn’t to blame. This is something that happened ages ago.”

“My mother fought cancer for years; she couldn’t cope with my father’s betrayal. She meant everything to me. Now I’ve lost my mother, my all, and he will lose everything too.”

You stood up abruptly. “Look, you’re clearly too upset and possibly drunk to understand what you’re saying.”

“No, I’m completely clear-headed. I’ve waited years, held back by my mother’s presence, but that’s over now.” He rose, taking a step toward you. “I’m going to make the Castillo family pay for what they did to mine.”

Anger bubbled within you; this was too much. “Alan, snap out of it. You aren’t solving anything this way. I get your pain, but this is excessive.”

He laughed hysterically. “Excessive? Is that what you think?” Then he grabbed your shoulders. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like to watch my mother suffer in the hospital for all those years?” he shouted, startling you.

Just then, Bruno entered the dining room. "Mr. Finnegan."

“I’ll be there in a minute,” you said nervously.

Bruno took in the situation with a disapproving look but nodded and returned to the kitchen.

But Alan wouldn’t let you go, gripping your wrist tightly. “Let go of my arm, now,” you said through gritted teeth.

Instead of releasing you, he tightened his hold and leaned in close to your ear. “Don’t forget, every moment you choose to stay with him only brings more trouble for him. I’ll make sure of that.”

You jerked your arm free from his grasp. “Your eyes are clouded with anger. You’re not thinking clearly. I love Harry, and nothing will come between us. I'm not leaving him, no matter what you do, understand?”

A wicked smile crept onto his face. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so confident, honey. You have no clue what I’m capable of.”

“Do your worst,” you shot back.

“I will,” he replied ominously.

You couldn’t despise him more at that moment.

Throwing him a disgusted look, you turned away and strode out of the room with quick, determined steps.

Yet, deep down, an unsettling worry clung to you like a shadow, gnawing incessantly at your thoughts about Harry and his family.

After you left, Alan took his cell phone out of his pocket and called someone. “Start foreclosure proceedings.” After hanging up, he let out a soft, almost sinister chuckle to himself.

“You’ll have no choice but to come to me, sweetheart.”

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suhsweet · 3 months ago

Text

double kisses ⟡ csc

wc: 5.7k+ | pair: idol!seungcheol x nonidolf!reader | genre: angst, fluff | tags: 65% sadness & 35% fluff, breaking up but getting back together, mention of divorce as a lighthearted joke, mention of being in the public eye, long-distance relationship, it is cute til it aint and then its cute again

summary: you and seungcheol, the leader of a world-famous boygroup, come up with a signal that he can use to let you know he's thinking of you even in front of the whole world... but is it enough?

authors note: i have reborn. yeah we rushed it but it's still something noooooo?

No one said dating an idol was easy. Probably because doing so would be admitting that they were dating an idol, and risk their partner's career.

However, you are dating an idol, specifically Choi Seungcheol. You of all people would know that it was challenging. Not only was he the leader of Seventeen, but Seventeen was taking over the world at a rapid pace— demand for them was at a high. This meant that you basically had to share your boyfriend.

The irregular schedules made it hard to see him. When he wasn't with you, he was either working or touring. Hours were irregular, and being apart never got easier.

You spent many nights alone wondering if this was all worth it. You had someone who you found to be your other half, who was devoted and loyal to you like no other. You desperately wanted to shout it out from the rooftops:

Seungcheol is mine!

Yet the world would come down upon the two of you if a whisper of your relationship came out. As sweet as Carats are, you feared the paparazzi or sasaengs who would take advantage of something so special to you. Most of all, you didn't want to risk Seungcheol's career. It was a dream that he worked so hard on ever since he was a teenager.

In front of the TV, his body is snuggled to your side, his head a welcome weight on your shoulder. His hair tickles your cheek as you glance down at him, to his lashes and down his nose. It's a reminder, physical evidence that he's right here with you.

You aren't paying attention to the screen. You know he isn't either.

His tour starts tomorrow. Two nights in Incheon, then he's off to Japan, and then the rest of the world. Two months of touring in a completely different continent, and then he's back for a month to promote the group's next comeback. Then he's back on tour once more.

You had a list of clocks, all set to each country that he'll be visiting on your phone. The both of you shared locations. You even had the widget app that lets you draw or write little messages to each other.

Seungcheol's left a whole basket full of his clothes for you to wear when you miss him. He has a bottle of your fragrance, one of your beanies, and a pair of your favorite Gentle Monster sunglasses.

The two of you have prepared the best you can to be apart for months on end– little pieces of each other to make up for the oceans that will separate you.

You've been trying to remain optimistic, but you know it wouldn't be enough. Knowing that it's 3am in Singapore won't make up for the loss of his arms around you. Seeing his cute little drawings appear on your phone screen won't make up for the lack of his sweet kisses.

A pressure presses from behind your eyes, and you quickly blink the moisture away. It doesn't work. A tear escapes. And then another. With your eyes squeezed shut, you bury your face in your lover's hair and inhale his scent, the one you've associated to home.

You don't want to cry. To leave Seungcheol with this image of you – unhappy and upset, is cruel. You need to be excited for him to travel the world and meet people who adore his group. He's going to be doing what he loves every night! Being on stage and performing with his family! Why are you crying?!

It's not like he's going to be gone forever. He's told you that he wants a future with you. One day, he'll retire. You'll get married, have a tonne of kids, and travel the world for as long as you want.

You just need to be patient. Don't be selfish.

Except you are.

All you want to do is beg him to stay, not to leave you. You want to tell him that you're scared he'll forget about you. You trust his loyalty, but you can't help the doubt that tickles the back of your mind.

A ragged breath escapes you, and Seungcheol's head immediately jerks up. His hand is on your wrist before you can block your face from his view.

"Baby," he breathes.

"I-I'm sorry," you whimper pathetically, and then you're immediately gathered in his arms. Now that he knows that you're crying, it's as if your body has given you no choice but to let the floodgates open.

You grip his shirt, just above his heart as he tries to soothe you. Sobs rack your body. Seungcheol squeezes you close to him and presses his lips to your head.

Deep down, in the deepest, ugliest depths of your conscience; you want to beg him to quit. You want him out of the public eye and to live a quiet life with you.

As soon as the thought enters your mind, you immediately shove it away. Shame floods you. You knew what you were getting into when Seungcheol asked you to be his girlfriend. He warned you.

Don't be selfish.

Your sobs eventually evolve into whimpers and sniffs. Seungcheol's hand smoothes circles across your back, and it helps you pull yourself together.

The two of you are silent for another five minutes. The sounds coming from the TV fills the room, the noise becoming a little clearer while the thundering of your pulse in your ears quiets.

Seungcheol, ever so patient, murmurs 'I love you's repeatedly, and presses kisses into your hairline.

When he sees that you've calmed down, he cautiously asks if you want to talk about it. When you look at him and see the concern in his gaze, you almost cry again.

But you don't. Instead, you nod quietly.

You explain your fears of him being away. Won't he forget about you? Won't the time apart make him bored of you? He'll be too busy to think about you, let alone set time aside for calls and messages.

Seungcheol immediately stops you. His thick brows are furrowed, as he wills you to look at him. He makes sure you're looking into his eyes. "There is never a moment when you aren't on my mind. When I'm on stage, I think about you and hope that you're watching. When I exercise, I think about how I want to impress you with my muscles. When I'm on a plane, I wonder if you've eaten and if you're safe."

Your heart squeezes. Every word sounds like a vow. You believe him. How could you not? His expression is imploring, imploring you to believe him because he desperately wants you to know it's true.

"When I'm with the guys, I think about how much you'd be giggling if you were there to witness their bullshit. They always ask about you, so I can't even forget about you even if I tried! When I go through hair and makeup, I think about the looks that you liked and ask the stylists to recreate it.

I don't want you to ever think that I'll forget about you. You are my life. Everything I do is for you."

Your lips quirk up into a small smile. "You're my life too." Yet, a part of you is still unsure. "Two months is a long time."

"It'll feel like years. But you'll be on my mind for every second."

"I'll be watching every single one of your fancams that gets posted," you warn playfully. "Don't flirt too hard with the fans."

He throws his head back to laugh, and it's a beautiful sound. A giggle of your own joins it.

He looks to you once more, a soft smile on his lips and his eyes sparkling with what could only be described as adoration. "We should come up with a signal for me to use."

Your head tilts in confusion.

"You said you'll be watching every fancam of me. Give me a signal I can use to show you that I'm thinking about you."

You suck in a gush of air as your chest warms at his eagerness to make you happy, even while across the world from you.

"You'd do that?"

"You seriously think that I wouldn't? C'mon! Give me something."

You rack your brain for an idea. You think about the little habits that you both have, and ways in which you can turn them into a gesture that can easily be overlooked, but unique enough to know that it's purely for you.

Immediately think about his habit of kissing you twice.

His lips press against yours once. "One kiss for you." He leans in once more. "One kiss for me."

You're walking in the park at night, when there is hardly anyone out. He brings your joined hand to his lips, pressing two kisses into the back of your hand.

As soon as he steps into your apartment after a long day at work, you're in his arms. He buries his head into the crook of your neck and kisses it twice: once to let you know he's home, and again to let him know that he's finally reunited with you.

With your hand flat, you tap your fingers to your lips twice and bring your arm out as if blowing a kiss.

His gaze softens as he recognises where you got your idea from. One for you, and one for me. He double taps his lips then brings his arm away to blow a kiss in one fluid move. "Like this?"

"I think it's good. Looks natural."

⟡

It's the first song of the concert, and as soon as the camera shows Seungcheol on screen, he's sends a double kiss.

You're sitting next to Jeonghan dressed like you're part of the staff. The face mask you have on hides both your identity, and your blush from the cheeky gaze of Seungcheol's right hand man.

"Can't believe you find him more attractive than me," Jeonghan teases. You knock your shoulders with his. "I might be doing my military service, but at least I'll still be in the same country as you."

As the concert goes on you look out for your signal and you're impressed by the way Seungcheol makes it look so natural. Sometimes he only double taps his lips, looking into the camera with a knowing look.

He'll explain to you later on that if he only does the original signal, it is a little repetitive but he still wants you to know that he's thinking of you. You'll tell him that he doesn't have to do it for every song or every time the camera's focused on him. He'll pout and tell you that he's brainstorming of other ways he can do your signal without completely transforming it.

At the end of the concert for the encore, all Seungcheol can do is send double kisses to the camera of every fan he can see. As Aju Nice turns into Fighting, he starts sending double kisses to the upper floors of the stadium.

Finally, he sends them to the balcony. The fans think that he's sending them to Jeonghan but you know they're for you. Some of the other members notice and join him. Most of them simply blow kisses but some of the other observant members, like Mingyu and The8, send double kisses the same way Seungcheol does. Dokyeom in particular makes a show of blowing kisses in an excessively flirtatious manner, only stopping when he sees Vernon’s confused stare from the corner of his eye.

The sight has you feeling like you're glowing. This is enough, you decide. To see Seungcheol surrounded by his dearest friends, doing what makes him happy, reminding you that he's thinking of you.

⟡

"Hi baby!" Seungcheol greets you, it's awfully bright wherever he is. The phone lights up your darkened room.

"Hi Cheollie," your voice is hoarse. It's four in the morning, where you are. You have a few hours of sleep left before you have to wake up for work.

"Shit, were you sleeping?" Seungcheol's concerned expression fills the screen. "I'm sorry baby, I thought the clock said it's four pm in Korea... Go back to sleep baby, I'll call you later."

"Okay... I love you." You nod, already feeling sleep come to you.

"I love you," he responds. Your eyes flutter close. Faintly you hear the sound of Seungcheol kissing the phone twice, and the sombre sound of the call ending.

⟡

"How many fancams did you find today, baby?" Seongcheol asks.

He's snuggled in bed just as you're walking home from work.

"Hmm, around eight I think. I didn't get to look properly because of work," you hum. "I don't think it works for Super."

Seungcheol laughs. "I told you, I'm thinking of an alternative for the cooler songs. I even enlisted Hoshi to help me."

"Great, so now Hoshi knows that I'm insecure and needy," you joke with a pout.

"No love. To Hoshi, I'm the one who's insecure and needy. Did you see my sign during God of Music?"

You laugh, "I did! You were so cute."

Seungcheol preens from your praise. A drunken smile is plastered on his face, one that lets you know that he's exhausted. His words are slurred together. "I miss you baby."

"I miss you more," you promise. "Nine days to go, but who's counting?"

Cheol smirks. "Time will fly. I can't wait to have you sit on my face again."

"Cheol!" You scold.

He cackles into your AirPods. "Hey! Two months is a long time! Lotion and my hand are nothing compared to my gorgeous, stunning girlfriend. You've ruined me."

"Gross!"

"I miss you," Seungcheol sighs again once the comedic air of your banter settles.

I miss you so much more. It hurts so much. I don't ever want you to leave again, you want to say. Spend a week in bed with me to make up for your absence.

Instead, you ask about his schedule once he gets home. You want to see if you'll have at least a full day with him. You don't even need to go out or do anything special. You just want to be with him.

The upcoming comeback schedule ruins your hopes. Every day, there is something happening. Between practice, fittings, music show pre-recording, variety show filming, and radio interviews; the only time you'll get to spend with him is whenever he's home. There are days where he won't even be able to go home to sleep.

You carefully control your facial expressions from showing betrayal, and grief. You nod slowly, and try to give him a genuine smile. He sees through your act, but stays quiet. He knows there's nothing that he can do to help. Instead he tells you a funny story from tour that he hopes will distract you. It works.

⟡

The grief of your heartbreak is consuming.

It's been a week since you and Seungcheol have broken up. A week since he left to go back on tour, and a week since you've told him that you can't handle him leaving again.

You couldn't eat, or sleep, or let alone breathe ever since you left your shared apartment with a duffle bag of your things. Seungcheol insisted that you stay since he's going to be gone for a while anyway but you refuse. To be surrounded by your memories, by what could've been your future, was to torture yourself.

On the day that he flys out, you try to forget that he won't be in the same country as you. The members send you messages as well but you try to be brief in your messages in case they find a way to convince you to get back together with Seungcheol. You try to stay busy, but he seemed to live in your mind.

In the month that he was back in Seoul, you hardly got to see him. His schedule was so jam packed that he might as well have been overseas again. Most nights, sometimes well after midnight, you'd hear him come into your room. He'd press two kisses into your temple, and tell you that he loves you. You'd pretend to be asleep. You didn't want him to deal with you crying after being at work for long hours.

He leaves to sleep on the couch, so as to not disturb you.

In the morning he's gone once more.

You had a massive fight on the last night that Seungcheol was in the country. He tells you that he knows you've been pretending to sleep. You tell him that he should've slept in the same bed as you. You don't know what you want from him, since he can't do anything for you. It's a bitter truth that the both of you have to face. You're the one who brings up the idea of breaking up, and he doesn't stop you.

You don't want Seungcheol to deal with the ball and chain he's left back home. Seungcheol doesn't want you to deal with waiting around for him to return.

Now, an ever repeating cycle continues. You wake up, realize that you and Seungcheol have broken up. You give yourself a minute to cry, or just stare blankly at the bedroom wall. You remember that said wall doesn't belong to the home you had with him. You get out of bed, get ready for work, and then work. Sometimes you have dinner with friends or family. Other times, you have dinner alone. You go for walks, or play badminton. Badminton reminds you of Seungkwan, and thus reminds you of Seungcheol. You stop playing badminton.

Sometimes, the days are long. Those days are the days where the Seungcheol's absence are even more profound and you grieve what could have been your future with him. Other times, the days fly by and you wonder what you're doing with yourself.

On the tenth day since your breakup, you give in to the need to see Seungcheol. You open your social media for the first time in a while and are immediately presented with a fancam of Seungcheol from the night before.

The familiar chaos that is Aju Nice fills your room, as you watch Seungcheol interact with fans. He does his signature lopsided smile, looks into the camera, and sends a double kiss... It's unmistakable. He taps his lips twice, before swinging his arm out towards the camera.

'his energy seems a little down today... i hope he's okay :(', one of the replies say.

'scoups has been interacting with fans like crazy this time! i'm so jealous'

In another fancam, he tilts his head back, taps his lips twice with both of his hands and thrusts them towards the ceiling. Briefly, his face is cracked with vulnerability and remorse before it is fixed back into his charming, idol smile. Some will interpret it as him as thanking whatever deity for allowing him to live the life that he has. Really, he's just asking for a second chance.

Your heart twinges when you watch it happen. More than heartbreak, you feel the devastating guilt of breaking Seungcheol's heart when he's done nothing wrong.

What was the point of breaking up if you were happier together? But that's the thing isn't it? You wouldn't actually be with him. He's timezones away, and hardly around for you to truly feel like you're with him. You couldn't let yourself go through that. However, was not having him at all better than having pieces? Fragments?

Certainly, it hurt to be away from him during the first two months of tour. But now that you've broken up with no contact, the pain is even worse.

⟡

A week later, your phone lights up. You expect it to be your friends, or one of the members who’ve decided to call themselves ‘children of divorce’.

Instead, it’s Seungcheol. Your heart lurches at his name, and your mind shuffles through a million different reasons as to why he's texting you.

cheol 💕: hey, just checking in… how are you?

you: i’m good, how about you? how’s tour?

cheol 💞: could be better. tour’s been fun, just got to italy. the kids want to drag me to the colosseum so i can experience rome the way they did.

Your heart warms, knowing his members are taking good care of him. He tells you about what's been going on. You tell him about work, and what's going on with your own friends. It's like you haven't broken up at all, and you almost ask him to FaceTime before you remember that you're no longer entitled to that privilege.

Ten minutes of catching up quickly pass by before he has to leave. You immediately wonder if he'll text you again soon. Or if you should.

⟡

You're at Dongdaemun, doing some shopping for some new clothes. Retail therapy didn't work, but it was a nice distraction. You try not to think about what Seungcheol would think of the top you're holding up. He'd like it... Not that it matters. You throw the garment over your arm, deciding to buy it but not because your ex would like it.

Ex... You hate having to call him that. You haven't texted him since he reached out after the break up. You try not to be sad about it, you broke up with him after all.

Over your shoulder, you hear someone call your name.

"Mr Choi," you start in surprise.

"Please," his smile is warm. As if he doesn't know his son's heart is broken because of you. "I told you to call me abeoji. Dad."

"Abeoji," you correct yourself hesitantly.

“How are you? It’s been a while,” the man asks gently.

"I'm..." Broken, hollow. Irrevocably sorry for hurting Cheol. "Okay. How are you?"

"Could be better. I'm going to get myself something to drink. Would you care to join me?"

The cafe is located on the upper floors of Hyundai City Outlet. It overlooks the entrance to the building, and allows you to look at Dongdaemun Plaza. At night it's a beautiful sight.

"Seungcheol told me about what happened," Seungcheol's dad says, getting your attention.

Your heart skips a beat upon hearing Seungcheol's name. The hollowness in your chest deepens. Immediately you look down at the beverage in your hands, afraid to see the disdain you expect on his dad's face. "Oh. I-It was the hardest decision I've had to make. I want you to know that I didn't want to hurt him, but I think this is how things should be."

"I know, I warned him about this happening," Mr Choi responds.

You look up at him, and his smile is still warm. There's a tinge of sadness, or pity. But no hatred. The similarities between Seungcheol and his dad has your heart squeezing painfully. You miss him so much.

"I don't know how you do it. Having a son who is hardly there to see you..."

"The way I see it, my blood runs through him, so I'm with him wherever he is... My wife on the other hand? She's my other half. When we're apart, I can't even breathe. As Seungcheol's partner, you must be going through something similar.”

You note the way he doesn't say 'ex'.

"How is he?"

"Looks as heartbroken as you, probably feeling the same as well."

Nausea mixes with the guilt in your stomach. You don't know how to respond.

"I'm not telling you what to do, but wouldn't it be better to have him in your life than not at all?"

At your silence, he sighs and goes quiet for several beats. “His mother and I are flying out to watch his concert in LA in three weeks. If you want to come with us, we’ll get the company to organize something. He doesn’t even have to know. You can just go to see how you feel.”

“Abeoji…”

“His mother misses you, you know. If not for him, consider going for her. Call it a family trip.”

⟡

It’s been three weeks since you broke up with Seungcheol. On the days when your reserve is weak, you give in to watching recent fancams of his. Unfalteringly, he continues to do your signal.

He hasn’t forgotten you at all. The thought crushes you inside.

If you got back with him, what would have to change? You’ve been telling yourself that there was nothing either of you could do. Were you okay with dealing with the irregular schedules? The fans? All eyes on him?

You've come back to your apartment with the intent of picking up a change of clothes and doing some laundry. The left side of the closet has all of your things, while the right has Seungcheol's. You suck on your bottom lip in contemplation as you consider taking one of his jackets. It's not like he'd know since he'll be gone for another couple months.

Your broken heart encourages you to give in. So you do. You pull out one of his cardigans, your favorite, from the back of his stuffed closet. Your heart squeezes at the familiar scent, and you hug it to yourself. Then you hear the sound of something crinkling in the pocket.

It's a balled up piece of paper with faint pen markings. Flattening it out, your breath is drawn from your lungs.

All across the page are random words and scribbles, but they manage to make you choke out a sob nonetheless.

park?

restaurant?

holiday?

jewellers — ask uncle

sizing – to check

seungkwan sing? > Get tissues for him

diamond > check her ig and pin > bigger = better ㅋㅋ

family? private

mr and mrs choi

honeymoon locations?

mrs choi.

my wife ♡

⟡

The distant sound of screaming fans seem to embody how you're feeling perfectly in that moment. Eomeoni, Seungcheol's mother, has her arm linked with yours and her warmth, weight, and energy are grounding. Abeoji is next to her. The three of you are walking down the private hallway to enter the section with your seats.

Eomeoni sits between you and Seungcheol's dad, the woman constantly turning to you as if checking that you haven't run off yet. She places a warm hand on your knee, gently soothing your jittery leg.

Joshua's family comes to join your section, sitting in the row behind you. Josh's mom and Eomeoni appraise each other after being apart for so long. They turn to you.

Eomeoni leans in to say something to the other woman, but you can hardly hear because of the pre-show music blasting from the speakers. Whatever she says though, Josh's mom looks intrigued.

You introduce yourself to Joshua's mom and family just as the show begins. The show goes as well as it did back in Incheon. You notice minor differences, improvements that the guys have made after months of touring. You try to train your expression when you spot Seungcheol.

He doesn't do the double kiss for every song, but it takes your breath away every time he does. Your gaze flickers to his parents, and they hardly react. The signal really is something only for the two of you.

Towards the end of the show, you forget that you know the group personally and become absorbed as a Carat. You borrow Abeoji's light-stick and wave along to the songs. You laugh in delight as you jump with Seungcheol's parents to the encore song and translate the members' English ments for the non-English speaking family members.

Later on you can’t keep your eyes from the door of the waiting room. Waiting inside with Seungcheol and Joshua’s families, the conversations milling around you is all white noise.

“Mom!” Dokyeom wails as he spots you as soon as he steps inside. The others greet you with a mix of happiness, excitement, and apprehensiveness.

“You guys did really well,” you say as you grab the phone off Eomeoni, who silently gestured for you to take a photo of her and Abeoji with Chan and Seungkwan.

“Oh let me in too!” Dokyeom yelps as he stumbles into the frame.

You don’t even bother taking a photo with the members, too concerned about the one that is the sole reason you’re even here in the first place. So you sit in a corner of the room that has a set of sofas, joined by a couple of Joshua’s cousins.

You’re asking about one of the cousin’s outfit for a party they’re going to as you do a quick headcount of the boys, and of the managers. One manager missing, one member missing.

“Where is he?” You sigh to yourself.

“Doing leader stuff,” Mingyu says as he sits on the arm of the couch beside you. You smile at him in greeting and he pats your head softly, knowing why you’re here.

You sink into the sofa, letting your head fall back on the headrest of the couch and letting Mingyu’s large form block your view of the door.

He’ll come when he’s ready.

But then you hear the delighted exclamations of Eomeoni and you couldn’t stop your head from perking up even if you tried.

All sound fades as you watch Seungcheol enter the room. He’s smiling about something with the manager accompanying him as he rips out his in-ears and grabbing a water bottle from a nearby table. Then he spots his mother and his face lights up with the toothy grin that you haven’t seen in so long.

You can't stop the tears the well up, or the sudden tightness in your chest as it brims with emotion. The loss that you've managed to sweep under the rug is suddenly coming back to you full force.

He reunites with his parents, accepting their kisses and warm embraces. Abeoji rubs soothing circles into his child’s back, and Eomeoni has Seungcheol’s face in between her small hands.

Sound comes back to you while you watch the family of three catch-up.

Mingyu nudges you. “You gonna say hi or what?”

“Nope. I think I’ll hide.” You slump in your seat and duck your head behind Mingyu’s knee. You rub a soothing palm over your chest… Has your heart ever beaten this fast before?

Mingyu chuckles and gets up. You watch with growing horror as the tallest member approaches the Chois, clapping a hand to Seungcheol’s shoulder and muttering something into his ear. When your ex-boyfriend’s gaze darts over to where you sit, you smile awkwardly and then your eyes dart down into your lap to avoid seeing his reaction.

In your peripheral, with much fear, Seungcheol’s form slowly grows closer to you, until his feet are placed in front of yours and you can see his legs are standing in front of you. And then he squats down to look up at your face.

“Hello,” his voice is precious. It’s so full of warmth, and hope… And fear.

You look at him and suck in a breath. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him. His eyes gleam as they gaze up at you and his lips are spread thin in contemplation.

“Hi,” you whisper, sending him a timid smile.

“You wanna go somewhere to talk?”

You nod, despite the nerves that set in as soon as you hear his words. He stands up and offers you his hand, and you take it. As your palms meet and fingers slide into place, it’s like you’ve completed a jigsaw puzzle. All the pieces are fitting into place and your heart warms. How were you crazy enough to give up on this? On him?

Looking up, Seungcheol’s bittersweet smile seems to express the same sentiment.

⟡

1.5 YEARS LATER

“Whatcha doing?”

You pointedly rustle the magazine in front of your face. “Doing some light reading.”

“Oh yeah? What about? Looks interesting.”

“Yeah there’s this super hot idol who just announced his engagement to this amazing, stunning, angel-on-earth of a woman…”

“Wow, what a lucky man,” Seungcheol settles onto the sofa next to your feet, pulling them onto his lap.

“Seems like his fiancée’s the lucky one: ‘I’ve always said that my members and my family come first before anything else’,” you say in your best imitation of your future husband. He laughs then shoves your shoulder lightly.

The engagement band that he proudly wears on his left ring finger catches the light, and your chest never fails to warm at the sight.

In the fire-escape of the venue where Seungcheol just performed a sold-out concert with his group, the two of you sat on the stairs for what must've been an hour. In short, you both agreed to never go for that long without the other ever again. For the rest of your lives.

Things didn't work out immediately. For a few months, your relationship still struggled as the two of you worked out how best to go about your long-distance relationship, but when you figured it out? Oh, was it good.

At the end of that year, on Christmas Eve, Seungcheol proposed to you. It was adorable; the two of you bundled up in thick puffer jackets with wooly scarves and beanies and masks so that only your eyes were visible. You were taking a walk along the Han River, a ridiculous idea since it was winter, but the festive lights made it all worth it.

You cried as he bore his heart out to you, his beautiful round eyes glistening with tears. You knew that the hand holding up the little velvet wasn't trembling from the cold, but from nerves.

As soon as the ring slid onto your finger, Seungcheol was immediately tackled into a conveniently placed pile of snow nearby.

A little while after the proposal, you propose to Seungcheol as well. Call it feminism, or equality. Really, he just told you that he wanted an engagement ring of his own.

Immediately, news agencies hear tips about a peculiar silver band that never seems to part from Seventeen's S.Coup's ring finger. Fans notice his latest contents include him having a cute, dazed smile. His instagram posts always seem to feature a photo of his left hand.

The one thing that hasn't changed though, is that he continues to give you all of his double-kisses.

#svt #svt imagines #scoups x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seventeen scoups #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol fanfic #scoups fanfic #scoups imagines #seungcheol images

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lavnder311 · 11 months ago

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The Tides of Temptation

Female reader during ovulation week??? Oh I think so.

Warnings: suggestive topics, female reader being feral for her husband, husband Nanami, mentions of ovulation, feeling horny. Not proofread, female reader x Nanami.

———————————————————————————

You looked at the time on your phone, sighing in disappointment when realizing it was still 30 minutes before your lover came home from work.

You get up from the sofa and make your way to the kitchen, trying to find a way to distract yourself or make the time pass by. All that was on your mind was the way his biceps flexed when he lifted you with ease, the way his veins popped out when he held a knife, cutting something as simple as fruit.

The way his thick fingers flipped a page of a book he was reading, the look on his face when he was concentrated, his jawline ever so prominent as he fixated on his baked bread.

Those same fingers that were knuckle deep in you the other night, the same arms that held you down as he hovered over your frame, those same long, blueish greenish veins on his di-

You shouldn’t be thinking this, no, you definitely shouldn’t. You took a piece of bread your lover had made earlier in the day, taking a piece of it into your mouth, savoring the taste. When had you gotten so worked up?

Alas, nothing you did would erase the intruding thoughts that were in your mind, replaying the events that occurred a couple nights ago. You sigh, looking at the time once more and rolling your eyes when seeing it had only been 13 minutes that passed. You go back onto the sofa, looking through your phone to find another way to distract yourself.

Yet, you found yourself going through your camera roll, full of pictures of your lover. It didn’t help that his muscular and large build were evident in almost every photo, making it hard for you to compose yourself.

You squeeze your thighs together, replaying visions of his eyes on you as you squirmed under his touch, his hands on your thighs slowly making their way to your sensitive spots, his lips kissing your neck as you moaned in pleasure.

Being so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear your lover come through the front door.

“Darling, are you well?” His deep voice sounded through the silence, pulling you out of your mind and in reality. You look up at him with wide eyes, almost embarrassed he caught you in such state.

“Ken! You’re home!” You said with an unsteady voice, a grin on your face. Your cheeks were painted red from the embarrassment, and the nervous laugh that escaped your lips didn’t help you.

“Hello, love.” He said, slightly raising a brow as he pulled you into his embrace. His scent was so manly, and his large frame in comparison to yours wasn’t helping your case. “Darling, what’s getting you so worked up?” He asked, looking down at his watch.

“I’m okay, hon.” You lied, shifting yourself in his arms with unease, attempting to hide the wet spot in between your legs. “I was just.. thinking.”

He knew something was up, of course he did- he knows you too well- and pulled back from the embrace, still holding onto your frame as he looked into your eyes, examining you.

“Darling, I have a suspicion there’s something going on in that head of yours,” he said, bringing you in for a kiss on your temple. “don’t expect me to think I don’t know this behavior.” He finished, teasing you with a smile.

He pulled out his phone, looking at the date, then softly smiled, knowing full and well exactly why you were acting odd. When he looked back into your eyes, he moved his hands from your shoulders to your waist, slowly bringing you in as he never broke eye contact.

“Honey, if you’re ovulating, why didn’t you bring your thoughts to me sooner?” He brought a hand to your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He slowly moved closer to you as his eyes were on your lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I have no issue addressing your thoughts.” He finished, kissing you instantly.

“K-Kento.” You cried out, almost begging him to continue. That look in his eyes told you all you needed to know, allowing him to completely take over.

“Don’t worry, love. Why don’t I fix us some dinner and I’ll handle the rest after, hmm?” He said, bringing his hand through your hair, moving a piece away from your face and smiled down at you.

Safe to say, you were well taken care of that night after he prepared you both a fancy dinner, in the comfort of your shared bed.

———————————————————————————

Ugh idk I’m lowkey scared to full on write smut but here’s a step towards that. Anyways I hope you enjoyed 🩷

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami fics #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x reader fluff #kento x y/n #jjk kento #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x you #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #jujutsu kento #kento x reader #nanami x reader fluff

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gdinthehouseee · 4 months ago

Text

Fan Wars: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: after managing to keep your relationship with ji-yong private, fans catch wind of potential evidence and refuse to let it go, so he decides to give them something real to talk about...

word count: 1341

tags: smau; fluff, established relationship, sneaking around, making out in semi public

You had done everything right.

Separate exits. Baggy hoodies. Sunglasses even though the sun had long set. Taking the longest possible route back to the car. And yet, here you were, sitting on Ji-yong’s couch with your phone blowing up, as the internet lost its collective mind.

“Ohhh, they are going insane,” Ji-yong muttered, scrolling through Twitter with an amused smirk.

You buried your face in a pillow. “I don’t wanna know.”

“No, but you have to.” He turned his phone toward you. “They’re dissecting everything.”

You peeked over the pillow hesitantly… only to immediately regret it.

User: I swear I just saw GD at this tiny restaurant… and he wasn’t alone 👀👀

User: Okay. So. Evidence thread 🧵⬇️

This blurry ass video from tonight? Yeah. That’s DEFINITELY G-Dragon.

The person next to him? I compared their walking pattern to Y/N’s past airport footage. IT MATCHES.

In the video, Ji-yong laughs. I ran it through software that compares audio frequencies. IT’S HIM.

The hoodie he’s wearing? He posted it on Insta a month ago. Y/N had a suspiciously similar background in her IG story the SAME DAY.

User: IT’S REAL!!

YGFamily_Updates: 🚨 Some fans are convinced G-Dragon is dating Y/N after being spotted together tonight. Others refuse to believe it. What do you think?

User: that should’ve been me </3

User: He could do waayyy better…

User (reply): you think you're better than y/n?? you should pursue comedy

User: am I the only one who thought he was gay??

User: SHE'S NOT WUH LUH WUH???? NOOOOO </33

User: Whatever makes her happy ig

User: she settled for HIM????

User (reply): ppl like you are why they kept it a secret

User: i can’t be the only one who thinks they’re rlly cute together :(

User: now they really are the parents of kpop

User (reply): i wish they were my parents

User: their kids would be so cute!! They’d have the best life fr

User: y'all are insane...

As much as you want to hide, you can’t seem to take your eyes off his phone. Not even when he continues scrolling through the battle of the fandoms to stumble across some diehard fans trying to piece together more of the timeline.

That one interview from three years ago where Ji-yong was asked about his ideal type, and he gave a vague answer that suddenly sounds a lot like you. A music award show from an entire decade ago where he held the mic for you and fans swore he was looking at you differently. One year ago – a rehearsal clip where you and Ji-yong were standing next to each other, not even talking, but somehow that was now evidence.

“They’ve gone too deep,” you groaned, finally managing to tear your eyes away.

Ji-yong chuckled, continuing to scroll, while he wraps his other arm around you, pulling you into his side. “They always do.”

“How are you so calm about this?” You turned to face him fully. “Half of your fanbase is ready to burn me at the stake, and the other half thinks I’m too good for you.”

He smirked. “Sounds balanced to me.”

You shoved him. “Ji-yong.”

He caught your wrist easily, pulling you closer until you were practically nose-to-nose. His voice softened. “Jagiya, it’s okay.”

Your lips pressed into a tight line. “What if this doesn’t blow over? What if they keep digging?”

He exhaled, brushing his fingers through your hair. “Then let them.” His tone was steady, unwavering. “We don’t owe anyone an explanation. They can talk all they want—we know what’s real.”

You searched his eyes, finding nothing but warmth and certainty. The tension in your chest loosened, just a little.

“…You’re really not worried?”

He smiled. “No.”

You hesitated. “You’re not gonna post anything cryptic and make it worse?”

Ji-yong laughed. “Tempting. Very tempting. But no.” He kissed your forehead, lingering there for a second. “I just want you to feel safe.”

Your heart melted. You sighed, relaxing into him. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

“And yet,” he murmured, his lips grazing yours, “here you are.”

Outside, the internet burned. Inside, you were home.

That was, at least, until your next event.

You knew from the moment you stepped onto that damn red carpet that tonight was going to be hell. The flashing cameras. The way certain interviewers perked up when they saw you. The way the entire internet had spent the past three weeks analyzing your every move, convinced that your so-called “secret relationship” with G-Dragon was either a definite reality or the greatest fan delusion of the decade. And now? Now you were both in the same room. At the same event. With hundreds of thousands of eyes watching.

You had never been more aware of your own facial expressions in your entire life. Every breath, every blink, every slight movement of your lips—someone was watching.

Across the room, Ji-yong sat with Seung-hyun, Youngbae, and Daesung. Not even they knew his real relationship status, while the man in question was completely unbothered, sipping his drink like he wasn’t currently the center of a full-blown fan war.

Seung-hyun tilted his glass toward him. “So… are you gonna acknowledge her tonight?”

Ji-yong smirked. “Who?”

Seung-hyun let out a slow breath. “God, you’re insufferable.”

Daesung, who had been watching you like a hawk for the past ten minutes, leaned in. “Okay, but why hasn’t she looked at you even once?”

Youngbae scoffed. “Because she knows people are watching.”

Seung-hyun nodded. “Which only makes it more suspicious.”

Ji-yong just swirled his drink, looking far too entertained. “You guys think too much,” he mused.

“And you think too little about how insane you make people.”

Ji-yong just smiled in response before pulling out his phone.

Slowly, carefully, you glance down.

A message. From Ji-yong.

You hesitate. You know cameras are on you right now. You know people will read into whatever expression you make. You know that someone will try to zoom in on your screen. But still…

You freeze. Before you can stop yourself, your eyes flicker across the room and meet his. It’s only for half a second. A single heartbeat. A blink. But it’s enough. Because he sees you and, to make it worse, he smirks.

After that split second of eye contact, Ji-yong tilts his head ever so slightly. A silent invitation.

You swallow. Pretending to check your phone, you slip out of your seat and disappear into the dimly lit hallway. As much as you really shouldn’t be doing this, you can’t help the way your heart’s pounding with excitement, fluttering at the thought of being sneaky like this. Then— A hand grabs your wrist. Ji-yong pulls you into a darkened corridor.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” you whisper, peeking up at him.

“And yet, here you are.” Before you can retort, his fingers graze your wrist, trailing up your arm slowly, deliberately. His touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake. “You look too good tonight,” he murmurs, voice husky.

“Ji-yong—”

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he interrupts.

He moves you backwards, pressing you against the wall behind you, and his mouth finds yours. It’s slow at first; teasing, testing your patience. But your hands instinctively reach up to grab his jacket, pulling him closer, and his own restraint is thrown out the window. He loses it. His own hands slide over your waist, gripping, exploring, pressing you firmly against him. His lips move against yours with urgency, hunger.

“Missed you,” he mutters between kisses, trailing down your jaw, your neck. His breath is hot, his hands possessive.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” you whisper breathlessly.

Ji-yong laughs softly, kissing you again. “Let them.”

You shudder. Your hands clutch his blazer, pulling him back up, crashing your lips to his in another heated kiss. This time, he’s the one who shudders. His hands roam lower, tighter, needier. And just as he presses even closer—

A loud camera shutter clicks.

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @mattsturniolosbabymama @redhoodedtoad @bettelaboure @cinnamonbear22 @xxxicddbr88 @infinetlyforgotten @babygirlewis @loveesiren @tulentiy @petersasteria @allthoughtsmindfull

#kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader #kwon jiyong #gdragon #bigbang x reader #bigbang #kpop #kpop x reader #smau

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koralira-kira · 3 months ago

Text

CAUGHT IN 4K ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆k. bakugo⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

pairings : k. bakugo x reader

genre : crack, slice of life, secret established relationship

synopsis : For months, Y/N and Bakugo have vehemently denied any romantic involvement, brushing off their friends' relentless suspicions. But when the duo continuously ditches group plans at the exact same time, the squad smells something fishy. Determined to uncover the truth, Mina and the gang launch Operation: Busted Lovebirds, a full-blown spy mission complete with disguises, walkie-talkies, and the worst secret-agent skills imaginable.

Their investigation leads them on a wild chase through cafes, parks, and trains—culminating in what they believe is undeniable evidence of a secret relationship. But just when they think they’ve cracked the case, Y/N and Bakugo drop a bombshell: they knew they were being followed the whole time. Oh, and they’ve been dating for five whole months.

Cue the collective meltdown.

warnings : nothing (but lemme know if there's any)

wc : 896

notes : Doing another fic! (as if i don't have my finals tomorrow🤡) Anyways hope you enjoy this one LOL. This not rlly one of my best works cuz of the upcoming finals situation going on, but hey! at least i got to write this thought out. I'm rlly finna be busy around this week and the next fam, cuz school rlly be hurtin me rn (pray for me).

---

“We’re Not Dating!”

It had been months. MONTHS of relentless teasing from their so-called “friends.” Every time someone so much as breathed in Y/N and Bakugo’s direction, there’d be smirks, winks, and not-so-subtle comments.

“Come on, just admit it already!” Kaminari whined, flopping onto the common room couch.

“We ain’t got time for your shitty fantasies,” Bakugo snapped, arms crossed.

“Yeah, you guys are delusional,” Y/N added, rolling her eyes.

And yet, something wasn’t adding up. Because every single time there were group plans—arcade nights, mall hangouts, even a simple movie night—both Y/N and Bakugo would mysteriously back out.

“I got something important to do.”

“Same, can’t make it.”

It had become a pattern. And patterns? Patterns were SUSPICIOUS.

The Investigation Begins

Mina was the first to piece it together. “Guys, do you realize that every time we hang out, they suddenly have an ‘important thing’?”

"These two have been avoiding group plans at the exact same time for months. MONTHS!"

"Coincidence? I think the fuck NOT," Kaminari added, pointing accusingly at nothing in particular.

Sero furrowed his brows. “You’re right. It’s like, synchronized.”

Kirishima rubbed his chin dramatically. “Ain’t that kinda… odd?”

“We need to get to the bottom of this,” Uraraka said, slamming a hand on the table like they were in some FBI meeting.

Jirou smirked. “Oh yeah? And how do you propose we do that? Interrogate them?”

Mina’s grin was borderline evil. “No, Jirou. We follow them.”

Silence.

Then a chorus of “OOOHHHH” filled the room as everyone leaned in closer.

“That’s actually genius,” Kaminari said in awe.

“Of course it is,” Mina replied smugly. “We’re going undercover.”

A few minutes later, the friend groups were split into teams, armed with walkie-talkies (because, obviously, espionage is nothing without proper communication).

“We tail them the next time they ‘coincidentally’ ditch our plans,” Mina explained. “Everyone, get your disguises ready.”

And so, Operation: Busted Lovebirds was born.

It started with Y/N leaving the dorms. Hoodie up. Casual outfit. Very suspicious.

“Target has left the building,” Uraraka whispered into her walkie-talkie.

“Copy that. We have visual,” Jirou responded from a different location.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the campus, Bakugo was heading in the exact same direction—also in casual clothes.

“Bro, he’s going the same way,” Sero said, squinting through his sunglasses.

“They’re so busted,” Kirishima muttered.

And so the chase began.

The squad, dressed in the most unsubtle disguises imaginable (think sunglasses, hoodies, and even fake mustaches for some reason), followed Y/N and Bakugo through multiple stores, on and off buses, and even into random side streets.

The entire time, the walkie-talkies were alive with whispered updates:

"Suspect is currently looking at flowers. I repeat, flowers. Is this a date thing? Are we looking at romance??"

"Negative. Subject has walked past the flowers. I repeat, NO FLOWERS PURCHASED. Romance is still questionable."

The groups followed through alleyways, parks, and even boarded the same damn train just to keep up with the two. They were like a squad of extremely unskilled secret agents.

“Status update?”

“Target is stopping near a coffee shop.”

“Target is ORDERING COFFEE.”

“SHE PICKED A TABLE FOR TWO.”

“…DO YOU THINK IT’S A DATE?”

Mina glared at Kaminari. “No, she’s obviously planning to have a deep philosophical discussion with herself. OF COURSE IT’S A DATE.”

Fifteen minutes later, the bell above the coffee shop dinged.

And in walked Katsuki Bakugo.

Silence.

Then—

“TARGET TWO HAS ARRIVED.”

“HE’S SITTING ACROSS FROM HER.”

“HOLY SHIT.”

Phones were out. Pictures were taken. Evidence secured.

Following the Lovebirds

The “couple” continued their day, completely unaware that their friends were on their tails.

Coffee shop? Check.

Walk in the park? Check.

Mini shopping spree? Check.

Train ride back to the dorms? Check.

The spies had seen ENOUGH.

---

The next day at school, Y/N and Bakugo sat at their usual lunch table, completely unbothered.

Too unbothered.

The entire squad, however, was dying to spill the tea.

“So…” Mina started, barely containing her excitement.

“So?” Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“We know, you sneaky little bastards,” Kaminari said, pointing dramatically.

Y/N blinked. “Know what?”

“We followed you,” Jirou smirked, pulling out her phone. “Busted.”

The two glanced at each other, then at the group.

And smirked.

“Yeah, we saw you idiots,” Bakugo said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink.

Silence.

“EXCUSE ME?” Mina nearly choked.

“Yeah,” Y/N added. “Like, after the second train, it was obvious.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING?!” Sero cried.

“Because it was funny watching you all stumble around like a bunch of morons,” Bakugo snorted.

Uraraka gasped. “So you mean to tell me we went through all that for nothing?!”

“Oh, it wasn’t for nothing.” Y/N smirked. “It was very entertaining.”

“But wait—how long have you guys actually been together?” Kirishima asked, eyes narrowed.

Bakugo leaned back with a cocky grin. “Five months.”

Five. Months.

Dead silence.

Then—

“FIVE MONTHS?!” Everyone collectively screamed.

“You guys are the worst,” Mina groaned. “We were out here thinking we cracked the case when you’ve been dating this whole time?!”

Bakugo just smirked, throwing an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “Better luck next time, dumbasses.”

And with that, Operation: Busted Lovebirds ended in absolute defeat.

---

fin

#kira writes #x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakusquad #sero hanta #denki kaminari #kirishima eijirou #mina ashido #katsuki bakugou bnha

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beiasluv · 1 year ago

Text

— op81, cs55, cl16, ls2

a/n: spent so long on the graphic 💀

yourinsta

liked by mclaren, landonorris and 49,183 others

yourinsta call me pitbull cuz I’m mr worldwide 🤫 (+🇦🇺🇪🇸🇲🇨🇺🇸)

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landonorris coppiers

yourinsta you’re my og 🫶

landonorris just og? 😔

username I swear if oscar gives us nothinggg

username MY BABY IS SHY OKAY?

username GOOD DAY TO BE A LOGAN SARGEANT FAN 🦅🦅🦅🦅

username I could only pray the Spanish flag is for Fernando 😩

— oscar piastri

Nervously sipping on his emotional support orange juice. Maybe too much nervous sipping.

“So, what’s your type?”

“My girlfriend?”

“Tell her she’s mine too.”

“WOw, will do.”

Cheeks turning red, munching on the fries like a little chipmunk he is.

“I mean– I have three sisters so…”

“That’s a green flag.”

“Thank you?” a piece of chicken in, a smile comes out. “That’s it?”

“Maybe if he’s…Australian, maybe.” you shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“And if he’s…wait. what sign are you?”

“Don’t know..I think it’s kinda nonsense.”

“That’s a red flag.”

“Sorry?” cheeky.

The orange juice was left unattended for a minute. Good sign. Chuckles were still evident.

“Let’s get serious here…” shifting in your seat.

“Yeah.”

“You drive for a living?”

“Yeah, I go around in circles ‘nd stuff,” juice pause. “I could drive you around Melbourne..if you’d want to–”

“And you’ll take me back by eight? Maybe offering your hand as well?”

“Yeah,” squinting face. “I could do that.”

“Lovely.”

— carlos sainz

Does that thing with his eyes, bending down to take the fries in…while keeping an intense eye contact.

“Smooth operator, you like that song?”

“Everyone favorite song no?”

“Hard choice.” pausing your fries mid air. “Spanish songs that I have no idea what they’re talking about could be up there.”

“Really? Tell me one.”

“The one from fast and furious.”

“A lot of them,” throwing his head back. “Can you sing it for me?”

“Asking for me to sing already. You’re in a hurry Carlos?” a sip of your Diet Coke. “Fast Five?”

“Eh..Danza Kuduro?”

“How could I know?” you shrugged. “What’s the song about anyways?”

“Something like…dancing…er…with tight ass.”

“Make sense.”

Looking confused as ever with that big, brown eyes. Mouth agape and shut every time few seconds, curling into a smile most of the time.

“So you’re still looking for job next year?”

“Huh?”

“Lewis Hamilton? Looking for job?”

“Eh..” leaned back in his seat. “Could be. Are you offering?”

“I’m a pretty busy girl..”

“Really? How busy?”

“So you’re up for it? That’s fast.”

“I’ll have to talk to my manager,” raising his eyebrow. “What is your requirement?”

“A Ferrari driver.”

“Sure.”

— charles leclerc

Trying to not laugh his ass off every five seconds or just completely blanks out. Chicken tasted good though.

“Charles, I have to ask you one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“How do you pronounce your last name?”

“I don’t..I don’t care, really.” Shrugging his shoulders. “Charles. Le. Clare.”

“Hm…maybe just use my last name instead, it’s easier.”

“I– yeah?”

“What?”

His chicken was pretty cleaned up the first few minutes. Plenty of confused chuckles.

“Do you think you are a committed person?”

“I…I…it’s a hard question no?” he put his hand together, in an Italian – sorry, Monegasque way. “I like to say I am.”

“I could tell.”

“Really? How?”

“Your contract with Ferrari.”

— logan sargeant

He was used to burger and fries but maybe he could just tolerate chicken and fries for your pretty company.

“What’s your ideal date?”

“Hm..definitely chicken shop dates.”

“Really? Where’s best chicken you ever had then?”

“This one.”

“That’s not an option.”

Subtle stares here and there, his cheeks might be hurting from all the grinning though.

“What’s your ideal type?” munching his ketchup-ed fries.

“So you don’t do researches.”

“I am now.”

“You know…starting to have a thing for Americans. You have any recommendations?”

“You could start by going fishing in the Keys with me,” stretched his arms.

“I’m not into fishy things.”

“Just boat rides?”

“I could do that.”

Coke break.

“Your thoughts on frat boys?”

“They’re fine,” he shrugged.

“And you’re not like a..secret member? Is it like a One Direction..thing?”

“Maybe better looking?” smirked. “I could see myself being one if I wasn’t racing.”

“Dreams do come true, Sargeant.”

“Ouch,” clutching his chest. “Ah– well– Maybe this other dream could come true as well?”

“You being better looking than One Direction?”

tell me who should be in chicken shop dateee 😩😩

– @namgification @jsjcue @c-losur3

Today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagines #charles leclerc imagines #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant

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lucky-bucky-boy · 4 months ago

Text

Casual

Paring: Techbro!Peter x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count: 6564

Summary: What happens when you finally aren't with your shitty ex of two years?

moodboard here

Warnings: 18+, afab reader, limited use of Y/N, LOTS of pet names (pretty girl, baby, babe, good girl), praise kink, consent talk, oral f. receiving, techbro!(fuckboy)peter au, talk of drinking and joints

A/N: this ended up way longer than i expected. it's my first longer piece in a while, and definitely poorly proofread so sorry in advance.

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost any of writings for any reason. Comments and reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

Warm lights highlighted the cozy atmosphere of the bar, the chatter a pleasant background noise to fill any lull in the conversation - not that there was one. The once clean round table top was becoming slightly sticky, evidence of a good night in the form of mixed drinks and dripping beer mugs; broken soft pretzels, half-drank beers, and crumpled napkins nearly being forgotten as laughter filled the table in rumbling spurts.

Gwen had orchestrated it all, making sure that schedules lined up to finally get everyone together. It was desperately needed. Not only had it been over a month since the metaphorical stars aligned, but it had been just over two weeks since Jake.

Jake, or “jake-ass” as MJ has recently dubbed him, and his absolute gull had the wonderful idea of breaking up with you during the week of midterms. Almost two years being washed down the drain, your hands trying to desperately cup the dissipating water and subsequently making you barely pass your midterms. Who knew opening your boyfriend's phone to take a silly picture during a study break would reveal his betrayal? Or that he would leave relieved while you sat in your bed heartbroken?

But, who needs Jake-ass when there's vodka sodas and friends? Surely, not you.

“Come on,” Harry’s hand softly hit the table as Gwen continued recounting the next bullet on her list of everything that was wrong with Jake. The relationship was over, which meant a round of roasting the fateful ex with all cards being left on the table. His voice cut Gwen off, staring at you intently from his spot further in the booth. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on a man who- who,” his hands flailed some, his disbelief evident in the way his mouth was gaping.

“Who wouldn’t wash his hands after shitting? Didn’t believe in climate change? Had shit stains on his underwear?” MJ piped in from her spot in-between Harry and Peter.

Peter’s shock resulted in a snort of a laugh that drew your attention to the man next to you, his hand coming to cover his face as he shook his head.

“Or, that you spent over a thousand dollars in less than three months? Who’s family you didn’t meet even after two years of dating?” Gwen added, her tone a little more sharp as she reminded you of the more concerning things of the questionable relationship.

“Who couldn’t make you cum?” MJ added one last note before the table erupted in laughter, your skin burning hot at the admission that didn’t even leave your own lips that night.

The thought immediately had you grimacing the moment it conjured a hint of a memory. “I could strangle the both of you,” your words coming out as a mutter before bringing your straw to your lips and downing what was left of your drink. You had only planned to drink two vodka sodas before switching to water, but that was being thrown out the window as the heat of embarrassment still warmed your ears.

Harry must’ve sensed your discomfort because he was sliding you the rest of his beer before waving down the waitress. In a blur of a few moments, the table was cleared and fresh drinks were being sat in front of you, feeling like an oasis in a desert of your messy mind.

Peter clicked his tongue, drawing all the attention to him. His hand held the top of his beer mug, his frosted tips from his previously bleached hair falling into his face as he shook his head in disbelief. “You three really know how to pick ‘em,” he sighed out, his hand flexing down around his mug as he brought it to his lips.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of the way the light bounced off his rings, an accessory he’s been wearing more since he started working at Oscorp full time last year. The observation was cut short as MJ’s disbelief cut through, “Might I remind you, that you and Gwen date-”

“In high school.” The two in question rang out in unison.

“Besides, it would have never worked out long term.” Gwen finished, hand reaching out for her own drink. Despite the friend group being close, that subject was always a bit convoluted. There were days you wondered if what-if’s filled them, or if they were both satisfied with the friendship they had.

Peter let out an amused scoff, “We’d be so boring if it did.”

There was a moment of laughter, but the second it died down the aforementioned memory threatened to plague your thoughts, Harry’s question repeating itself in your mind. You looked over to him, taking a quick sip of your drink and relishing in the way it warmed you before speaking, “It’s not that I’m hung up on Jake. It’s just that-”

“You need to get laid.” MJ quickly quipped, “Girl, I am telling you once you get laid, you won’t even think about that prick.”

The scoff that left Gwen had you laughing, “No, she does not need to get laid,” she all but exclaimed, “She needs to process that loss of the relationship she wasted two years on.”

There was a burst of bickering between the two girls, going back and forth with their logic. Admittedly, they both had points, but they were points you weren’t currently interested in processing. The back and forth pulled the attention from you, and without much thought you found yourself opening up your phone gallery.

However, the moment your fingertip lifted from the phone after pressing on a photo you definitely should have, a ringed hand reached out, slender fingers wrapping around your phone and swiping it away. “You’re not gonna be a party pooper when it’s our first time seeing you in weeks. You’ll get your phone back when we leave.” Peter said firmly, pulling your gaze to him.

You couldn’t stop the rolling of your eyes as you held your hand out to him, expecting him to immediately cave and give you your phone back. Instead, he doubled-down in his efforts, slipping the device into his pocket. You really should have known better. Peter was never one to bend, not easily at least. If anything, you’ve learned he was as stubborn as a mule and the biggest tease you’ve ever met.

All he did was grab his mug and take a long swig, gaze holding yours over the rim as he did. For the first time in months, there was an echo of heat that ran through you, subtle enough that it definitely had to be from the vodka, right?

There was a sudden vibration, pulling your attention from Peter over to Gwen who let out a sigh before putting her phone away. Her demeanor shifted, slumping back against the booth seat. “This is the last round. I need to be in the office by 7 am tomorrow now.”

The door of the bar closed behind you, creating a barrier to the warmth inside as the wind of the city hit you. The evening had been nice, but the fully dark sky paved the way for the cooler temperatures. As much as you had been dreading coming out originally, it felt like your legs wanted to take you right back into the bar.

The alcohol made it easier to feel normal. Weeks of constant limbo, constant questioning years of your life, constant critiquing every square inch of your appearance, put on pause. It was a relief, one that felt miles away with each step you were taking since leaving the table. There was an itch to tell them you were going to stay later, but you knew that wouldn’t fly.

Gwen was always especially pressed about the rule that if you all went together, you left together. Over a decade of being Peter’s friend had made her even more gravely aware of what could happen, and even though her overbearing concern could be frustrating, all she wanted was for everyone to be safe.

It wasn’t until Peter was invading your space, his lanky frame leaning closer as he threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to his side, that lopsided grin you had grown to know him for pulling at his lips had you realizing they had all been talking about something while you mind wandered. “You all know who I am,” the statement earned groans from the other girls, Harry snickering at them. There was a moment of confusion in you before he continued, “I’ll get Ms. Heartbreak home safely.”

The nickname immediately made your eyes roll, nudging his side just slightly and pulling a chuckle from him. Your eyes glancing back at Gwen and M.J. “I can get home fine,” You offered, smiling softly at them. Gwen’s concern was written on her face. “And I’ll text you when I do, assuming someone doesn’t kill me with his antics.” You narrowed your eyes up at Peter, his hands coming up in faux defence as he backed away.

The dramatics didn’t stop there as Peter moved his hand to his heart, falling against a lamppost and slowly collapsing to the ground, all while wearing a pained look on his face. “Oh, how you wound me, fair maiden.”

Harry snorted out a laugh, M.J. following suit with her own giggles, and Gwen sighing. This was how it always was with them, ever since you joined their unorthodox friend group a few years ago. ”Fine, fine! Text me when you get home, and MJ and I will see you Sunday for brunch.” Gwen conceded, a small smiling gracing her lips, “Keep her safe, Parker. Please.”

“I will, I will.” He jumped up from the ground, dusting himself off. “You say that every time.” He commented, “As if we don’t live in the same direction and I don’t walk her home every time we come to this bar.”

MJ nodded, her face contorting as she held back laughter at her friend’s annoyance, “He’s got a point, Gwen. Just like Harry always gives us a ride to our apartment.”

“Yeah, I would just feel better if (Y/N) would finally cave and get an apartment with us.” Gwen muttered, ensuing another round of lighthearted bickering between them.

There was a comment that quickly died on your tongue as Peter’s arm wrapped around your shoulders again, turning you around towards the direction of your apartment. “Alright, love you dorks, have a goodnight.” He called back as your steps fell into a comfortable stride and his arm fell from his place on you.

The walk was comfortable, a quiet routine set into place after countless times of taking the same route home. Cars bustling by, muffled conversations, the occasional street cat and comically chasing a cat down an alleyway. A train or cab would definitely be quick this time of night, but there was something nice about walking off the alcohol and bar food that felt refreshing.

Cool air prickled your skin, the cars throwing additional gusts of wind at you, only briefly blocked by Peter’s frame. It had been so warm and nice out, but the current temperature had you regretting your disregard for a jacket, missing the warmth of the bar from just 20 minutes ago. Another 10 minute walk, your apartment building finally coming into view a few blocks down as you two crossed the street and rounded a corner.

Peter moved from your right side, falling a pace behind you before reappearing on his left. The sight of his bare arms in your peripheral making you do a double take before his was maneuvering his hoodie onto your shoulders. The suddenness had you pausing in your steps, the scent of his cinnamon and woodsy cologne enveloping your senses as he lips pulled, adam’s apple bobbing in amusement at your slightly bewilderment.

“Put the damn thing on properly,” he laughed out, “Don’t say you don’t need it. You’ve been rubbing your arms that past two blocks.”

Had you really been rubbing your arms that much? You slipped your arms into their designated space, adjusting the fabric some. The gray material fell against you, immediately enveloping you in warmth and sending a wave of heat that amplified the echo from earlier through you.

Once he was seemingly satisfied with your obligingness, he turned to continue his stride, nodding for you to continue on with him. “So, what did John do to make you finally leave him?” Peter’s hummed out.

The sigh you left out was quickly met with a soft chuckle. He hadn’t arrived yet when you had been recounting to Harry the scene that played out, and by the time he did get there the conversation was already in full swing that the only explanation he was given was “They finally broke up.”

“Jake cheated,” the shrug you gave did nothing to ease the anxiety that was swimming in your chest, filling your lungs with smoke and your throat with discomfort. “Found out while studying for my midterms. And, he left me, by the way.”

Peter tripped over your admission, glancing at you with furrowed brows before recovering, “So, let me get this straight, you found out but he left you?” The click of your tongue was enough of a confirmation for Peter to let out his own sigh, “Babe,” the pet name, albeit common in his vocabulary, sent a rush of heat through you, singeing the anxiety in is path to sitting lowly in you, “He was a grade a piece of shit. Couldn’t even be honest with what he wanted and you wanted to stay?”

“Coming from the resident fuck boy of the friend group?” The words came out more acrimoniously than you anticipated, but they did nothing to Peter but make him shrug and laugh. It was oddly comforting to see how much he’d grown, how words seemingly rolled off his back now when they used to all pierce him.

“At least the people I see know what I want. I don’t expect to have my cake and eat it too,” he offered, never faltering from it’s normal lackadaisical tone. It never came off as disinterest or indifferent with Peter, but in the way that you could tell he was confident with himself. Other people’s opinions didn’t matter.

“Is that how you did it?” Your question was seeming incomplete, but the indication was still there. It always was whenever someone brought up exes.

“Did what?” There was a dryness to his tone that was serving as a warning. Clarify, or turn away from the can of worms that everyone looked at but never opened.

But, if you had to spend the entire night recounting your past relationships, someone else should too. “Got over Gwen.” You clarified, hands tucking into the front pocket of the hoodie.

Peter came to a stop, turning to look at you fully. The streetlight hand overhead, bright and yellow, washing him in an angelic like brightness while the bulb on your doorstep flickered softly. “MJ is right. You need to get laid.”

The deflection was answer enough. Yes, and no, and no he wouldn’t be talking about it. His gaze never left yours, waiting and anticipating your next move.

His breath of relief wasn’t lost on you as you turned to your lobby door, pulling your keys out to let the two of you in. Gwen wouldn’t be satisfied unless Peter watched you go into your apartment, and Peter wouldn’t be satisfied until he heard the lock of your deadbolt.

The ascent up the stairs was quiet, the sense of something looming heavy on you. Peter’s steps were in line behind you as you climbed. First floor, second, then third, your apartment door coming into view as you reached the landing. The gimmicky Spiderman doormat he’d gifted during a white elephant exchange was like a beam against the dingy floor, the ‘go away’ sticker above your peephole making you smile softly with the relief of home being so close.

Just as you unlocked your door and started turning the handle, Peter’s voice broke the silence, “Shit wait-” as you were turning to look at him, he pulled your phone out of his pocket and held it out to you. “Here.”

Something about the exchange cracked a piece of you. Your phone acting as a token to remembering the way he looked at you over his mug. Reaching out to grab it, your fingertips brushing along his and the coolness of his rings, inhibitions died. “You said I need to get laid, right?”

Your movements were quick, shoving your phone into your jean pocket and preparing to flee at the first sign of rejection, eyes looking anywhere but Peter’s face. The package in front of your neighbors door, Peter’s untied shoe, the suggestion of a bulge twitching underneath his zipper.

Was it desire or anxiety that was making your mouth water, skin warming with anticipation, breath short and halted as you waited for his response. “Look me in the eye and ask that again.”

Peter’s tone was firm in a way you had never heard before. Commanding but warm and inviting, the type of tone to have your eyes shooting up to meet his to make sure you heard it correctly. He was otherwise emotionless, his own gaze studying you as if he was assessing the pros and cons of the situation being presented. “You said I need to get laid.”

He nodded curtly, foot bouncing incrementally. It was subtle, other than the sound of his jeans moving against the fabric of his shoe. “That, I did.”

“Do you want to do something about that?” You weren’t even sure your voice made it above a whisper, hands becoming clammy as they flexed at your sides.

“Do you want me to?” He countered.

It felt like a chess match, each of you moving a pawn on the board as you figured out what was worth sacrificing. One of you should forfeit, call bluff and turn away, but neither of you made the indication that backing down was an option.

“I asked you fir-” You were cut off by Peter lips, hands moving to cup your jaw as all space between you two disappeared.

Feverish. That’s the only word that could come close to describing the way he was moving. Slightly chapped lips from the cold, the taste of rich beer and the minty gum he always chewed, one hand moving to hold the back of your neck to keep you against him while the other was reaching for the door handle.

He moved you two inside like he’d done it a million times, or at least thought of it million times. Your back was pressed against the wall, his foot kicking your door closing and reaching for the deadbolt. His hand waved a few times before he pulled away with a displeased grunt, reaching over to lock the metal into place with it’s infamous screech.

Peter looked back at you, mouth slightly parted and tongue swiping along his lip as if he was trying to taste your own against his still. “Tell me this is what you want.” His voice was breathless, quiet, but something lay beneath it. It was a type of yearning you hadn’t felt in months, maybe even years if you were being honest.

“Well, obviously.” You offered, baffled that he would even ask.

As you reached up to grab at his shirt, he stopped you, his own hands holding your wrists in place between the two of you. “No. I need to hear you say it. Tell me this is what you want. Tell me you want me to fuck you or I’m leaving.”

It didn’t sound like a threat, but your heart still started beating like it was one. Your ears burned hot, feet becoming clammy and the mere thought that he could be trying to find a way out, that he actually wanted to leave. Eyes wide and lips puckered out in a pout, trying to process his words.

Your hesitation broke something in Peter, the look on his face softening as his grip let go of your hands. One hand cupped your chin, palm spreading wide and cold rings cooling your heated skin, the other wrapping around your waist as he pulled you from the wall and closed some of the space again.

“I want to get on my knees while you lay on your bed, legs spread wide for me while I eat your pussy until you’ve cum on my tongue. Then, I want to fuck you nice and deep until your legs are shaking and you’ve cum again. Does that sound good to you, baby? Can I do that for you?” Peter's voice was raspy, scratching an itch you didn’t know you had.

Once you nodded, Peter smiled, placing the softest of kisses to your cheek, then your nose, then your other cheek, and finally your forehead. His breath came out fanning against your skin, eyes fluttering closed. “Then, you are going to look me in the eye and tell me you want this, that you want me. Yeah?”

With another soft nod from you, Peter pulled back, your eyes opened, voice feeling lost in your body as you breathed out, “I want you to fuck me, Peter. I want you,” he didn’t need to know for how long, you weren’t even sure for how long you’ve craved him. That was a conversation for later.

“Good fucking girl,” he purred out before pressing his lips to yours again. This time, with a soft fervor, more exploratory as his tongue slid between your lips, hands moving to your hips and his thumbs rubbing soft circles against your jeans.

Everything about Peter, about this moment was dizzying. It was more dizzying than the vodka earlier, his touch lighting every inch of skin in his wake ablaze. Between his heady scent and the beer you could still taste on him, you questioned if you had ever actually been drunk, ever actually knew what intoxication felt like. The drinks you shared, joints you’ve passed back and forth, nothing could quite touch the way his kiss alone was making you feel.

Peter’s lips left yours, trailing along your jawline and down your neck, soft kisses becoming little nips as he began guiding you backwards throughout your apartment. It wasn’t hard to get to your room, the small space working in your favor for the first time since moving in. Somewhere along the way, he had toed off his shoes, his hands already deftly unbuttoning your jeans the moment the back of your legs his the edge of your bed.

He pulled back, much to your dismay, a small laugh leaving him as he felt you trying to chase after his lips once they left your skin. “So needy,” he hummed, a hand coming up to hold your chin, lidded eyes darting from your lips to your eyes, “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

The question sent a wave of heat through you, almost reminiscent of embarrassment as your thighs clenched tightly, seeking any sort of friction. “Okay,” you breathed out, an unexpected whine leaving you at the sound of how breathy you were.

The noise that left you had Peter’s jaw clenching, his lip pulling between his teeth for a moment while he gathered himself. “Lay down for me, pretty girl,” Peter commanded, eyes holding your gaze as he slowly knelt down in front of you.

The image was worth committing to memory. Peter’s fluffy hair was slightly disheveled, lips glistening and kiss swollen, eyes lidded and dark with desire, sitting back on his calves with his hands clasped in his lap, waiting patiently. There was something so intimate in the way he was sitting before you, a subtle desperation with how his fingers were twitching to touch you again.

You couldn’t look away from him if you tried, couldn’t bring yourself to deprive him even if you wanted to. “Do you wa-”

“Just lay down,” his resolve broke a little, hands reaching up to grip your thighs, massaging softly. “I’ll do the work this time, baby.”

This time. He said it like he was already planning on their being a next time, like he’d been waiting for this time.

Peter’s hands gripped a little tighter as you sat down on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your elbows to keep your gaze connected with his. It felt like a million years as his hands worked their way up your thighs, gripping the top of your jeans and pulling them down, leaving your panties in place as he helped you out of the restrictive material.

“Fuck,” he let out a heavy breath as he settled himself better between your spread legs, “So wet and all I’ve done is kiss you.” His hands returned back to your thighs, squeezing at the fat of them softly and relishing in the way you squirmed.

His hands reached for the band of your underwear, eyes taking in the way you looked in his hoodie with your underwear soaked through. The coolness of his rings was a stark contrast to the heat of your skin as his fingers hooked around the fabric. “Can I take these off?” He asked, eyes flicking back up to yours.

There was something about the way he was constantly checking in, the slight restraint in his movements as he made sure you were still wanting this. “Yes,” tilting your hips up some, Peter pulled them down, maneuvering your legs until your panties had been tossed somewhere and your thighs had been sat atop his shoulders.

That was the last big of resolve Peter had though, hands gripping your hips again and pulling you towards him. His hands wrapped underneath you, hands gripping at your ass as he held you up to his mouth, just slightly off the bed, and the perfect height for him to close the space between the two of you. He wasted no time, tongue swiping from your weeping core to your aching clit, a pleased noise vibrating against you as he messily licked up everything you were offering to him.

From where you laid, Peter looked like he was experiencing heaven on Earth. His eyes had fluttered close, hand gripping you like if he loosened up even the slightest you’d squirm away. In his defense, it was damn near impossible to stay still, his contentment to be knelt between your thighs having your hips jutting in pure desire.

“Peter,” his name tumbling out of your lips, had his eyes open, looking up at you just as his lips wrapped around your clit. The moan that left you sounding exaggerated even to your own ears and your hand reaching down to card through his hair.

He hummed against you as your nails scratched his scalp softly, sending vibrations through you that somersaulted you closer to the edge. It was humiliating how quickly you felt that high coming, especially when you were admittedly doubting his ability to make you cum with his mouth. It had never happened before, but here Peter was feasting on you like you were his last meal, like a man who just walked days in the Sahara and you were his first drink.

“Peter- I-” your words were lost between moans, the glance down to him revealing his intent gaze still locked on your face. Even with him still buried between your thighs, you could see the sheen of arousal coating his nose and cheeks that poked out from between your folds.

There was no other warning as pleasure ripped through you, washing over you like a tsunami as you reached your high. Peter didn’t let up, moans ripping from your in breathy pitches, broken with squeaks and almost giggles as his ministrations bordered on overstimulating you. It wasn’t until you were pulling his hair in an attempt to pull him away that he stopped.

Peter pulled away, sucking in a deep breath that fanned across your soaked skin as he breathed out. The entire bottom half of his face was slick with your arousal, lips puffy from sucking and kissing at you. He gently sat you down, pressing light kisses to your thighs as he did. “You taste so fucking good,” he suddenly wrapped and suctioned his lips to the sensitive part of your inner thighs, sucking roughly and nibbling, instantly pulling a shocked gasp from his lips.

The moment he felt you tug at his hair he stopped, his eyes glancing over the mark he left on your skin - faint now but sure to blossom into a bruise to remind you for days to come. “Couldn’t help myself,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the spot before glancing up at you, “‘m sorry.”

It was obvious by his lidded gaze that he was, in fact, not sorry. Not that you could care at the moment. It was quick after that, Peter standing from his kneeling position as he discarded his shirt and jeans, his boxer briefs leaving little to the imagination as his dick struggled against the fabric, a darkened stain where precum leaked from him. He shuffled you back, helping you to take off his hoodie and your shirt, fingers making quick work of your break the second he could and tossing it along with the other forgotten clothing.

“Look at you,” he hummed out as his hands started trailing along your sides, his body moving to hover over yours as he settled atop you on the bed. “Might actually need to thank Justin if I ever see that bastard again.”

You weren’t going to correct Peter this time, you didn’t even want to be thinking about that asshole. Not when Peter was in your bed, and especially not when he just made you cum in a matter of minutes. Reaching up to card your fingers through hair and pulling him close to shut him up with a kiss.

Peter didn’t complain, lips and tongue kissing back with messy need. He tasted like you, cheeks sticky with the remnants of your release. One arm planted next to your head, his free hand roaming along your side. As he trailed it upward, his thumb bruised along your breast, tentative and experimental. His touch moved inward with each motion until he was brushing your nipple, flicking the hardened nub softly.

The soft touch sent waves of pleasure, lighting a whole new level of desire in you. It was making you nearly insatiable, like every touch was making you spiral further from wanting and closer to needing him. It wasn’t until you were squirming and whimpering against his lips that he pulled back some, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Sound so pretty and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” the kiss he pressed to your nose was a drastic juxtaposition to the filthy words leaving his mouth, “You gonna let me, hm?” He asked, kissing your cheek and lips moving towards your ear, “Gonna let me stretch you out?”

Your nod was instant, eyes opening to stare at him as he pulled off of you. Your complaint died on your lips as he reached for his jeans, watching as he pulled out his wallet and the subsequent metallic wrapper of a condom. His eyes glanced at you, your chest heaving, thighs glistening with your own arousal, the image causing his cock to strain and twitch in the confines of his boxers.

There was silence as he ripped open the condom, pulling down his boxers to finally reveal his cock. It was embarrassing the way your mouth watered at the sight. He was easily the longest you’ve had, a drastic difference to the last one, bright red and leaking pre-cum, a strong vein running along the underside, curved up just slightly.

He was on you again before you could protest, wanting to admire him just a little longer. He was quick, hands gripping your hips and pulling you down to where he was kneeling, pulling the tiniest squeak from you. He watched as you trying to instinctively wrap your legs around him, but he stopped you, moving your legs until your calves rested against his shoulders, legs encasing his face like a picture frame.

“Please,” you whined, squirming slightly as you felt his tip grazing your sopping folds.

“Such a quick learner, but you’re gonna have to be more specific than that.” His tone was dripping with tease, the slightest thrust of his hips forcing his tip to just barely nudge inside you.

“Please fuck me,” you whined, “Please , Peter, I-”

The moment you said his name he was thrusting inside of you with one push.Thick cock pushing inside, tight walls squeezing him, the lubricated condom and sheer wetness between your legs allowing him the ability to spear himself in. He didn’t wait, a loud groaning leaving him before he was pulling all the way out and pushing right back in.

His pace was brutal. Sharp thrusts causing his thighs to slam against yours with a slap, the loud, wet squelching noise every time he pulled out indication of just how much you fucking loved it. There was no denying it even if you wanted to, back arching each time he hit a spot you honestly didn’t believe existed, loud moans leaving your parted lips as you eyes threatened to leave his gaze and roll back into your skull.

Peter leaned forward some, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper as his thrusts were starting to turn into a deep grind. His hand moved one of your legs to wrap around his waist, leaning down even more until you could feel his weight being held up by partly your leg still against his chest.

“I can feel it,” his voice was more gravelly than you’ve ever heard it before, his palm sitting against your lower abdomen now and pushing, the pressure sending your mind whirling. “Can you, baby? Can you feel how deep I am?”

His words made a whine leave your lips but when you didn’t answer, he started pressing even harder, “Answer me, and I’ll rub your pretty little clit until you're cumming on me.”

The thought had a choked noise leaving you, desire like a hot iron rod piercing through you with his every move. You were so close, and his offer would be the thing to undoubtedly unravel you. “Y-yes- So deep, Pe-Peter. So fucking deep,” your hands reached under your thighs, desperate to touch any part of him, nails digging softly into his skin and trailing down towards his knees, leaving angry marks in their wake.

Peter groaned, his own eyes fluttering at the scratches and head tilting back some. The hand on you ventured lower, thumb parting between your folds and rubbing figure eights on the sensitive bundle. Four, maybe five goes before the breath was stuck in your lungs, body seizing up as pleasure wreaked havoc on every nerve in your body.

His hips faltered at the way your walls were starting to grip him, sucking him in impossibly more. Moans were falling past your lips with stuttering breath, broken and loud. Your nails anchoring into his skin for something to hold onto once your hips begin rocking against his, riding out your own orgasm with the intensity of a storm.

The scene alone with your mouth parted, a sheen of sweat on your skin, and watching you rock against him pushed Peter towards his own high. You could feel the way his cock pulsed inside the condom, a strangled whimper and moan leaving his own lips.

With a shaky breath, he moved your other leg to wrap around his thigh, collapsing softly on top of you with his cock still buried deep. Immediately, a soft giggle left your lips, baffled and amused once reality finally hit. Your best friend just fucked you.

Peter glanced up at you, his eyebrows furrowing and lips twitching to fight his own laughter, “What’s so funny?”

“This,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling bashful despite what just transpired. “Never in a million years did I think this would happen.”

There was a ghost of concern on his face, one of his arms moving to hold himself up so he could get a better look at you. “Do you regret it?”

The softness of his words sent a pang of guilt through you. Do you regret it? Could you regret it? “No,” you answered softly, “Though I- I’m just- What do we do after this?”

Your answer seemed to relieve him, a breath leaving him before he pressed a quick kiss to your nose and was moving again. Peter softly pulled himself out, standing and tying the condom up before tossing it in your trash bin by your desk. “Depends on what you want. We can never talk about it again, or keep it casual if you’re looking for something low risk,” he shrugged as he offered.

It wasn’t lost on you that he wasn’t looking at you as you spoke. “What does casual entail?” You found yourself asking a little too quickly.

Peter looked at you for a moment before turning to leave the room, his sudden, and naked, departure confusing until he returned a minute later with a washcloth. He came back over to you, spreading your legs and moving you like some doll as he wiped you clean, not missing your thighs as he did before doing the same to himself. “Casual is exactly as it sounds. You’re one of my best friends, but we can fuck every now an then, whenever you need it or the mood strikes. Could be next week, could be months.”

You found yourself sitting up, throwing the blanket over yourself as you watched him start getting dressed. “And I’m assuming we tell no one?”

Peter chuckled softly, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks, “Not no one, necessarily, just not our friends, ya know? Don’t want it to make the friend group messy.” It made sense, and it would be nice to have someone competent to scratch the occasional itch without needing to put your safety or sanity at risk. Peter pulled his shirt on before looking back at you, “So, choice is yours, babe.”

You let out a shaky breath, pushing down the cloud of anxiety that was threatening to swirl a storm in you. “Casual it is then.”

Peter smiled, something closer to a smirk but softer, and like it was meant only for you. “Casual.” He nodded in agreement. He grabbed your pajamas that had been sitting on your desk from the previous night, tossing them to you. “Come let me out so you can lock the door,” he requested, heading out of your bedroom. From where you sat you could see him toeing his shoes back one.

Pulling your pajamas on, you followed behind him, offering him a hushed goodbye that he gave in turn with a kiss to your hairline before making his way out your door. Once he heard the noise of your deadbolt twisting into place he was gone, leaving you to wander back to your bed as you began processing what just happened.

It felt surreal, but the sight of his hoodie hanging off you bed was the confirmation you brain needed.

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